He was not far from home when he noticed the two men. He approached the intersection with C Street, and they walked quickly toward him from behind, wielding two-by-fours brazenly propped over their shoulders. Later Ram would wonder if the wood had been sawed in his own mill, so that he had helped create the weapons used against him. He could not tell their intent until they were almost upon him, when he smelled the liquor on their clothes. His guilty mind made peculiar connections: These men were brothers of the cinema house girl. They knew he had spied on her from a distance. One man raised his arm, holding the piece of wood, and something (what was it?) told Ram to run, and he broke stride just as the arm and the wood came down. Ram saw the man’s face as he swung, cheeks bulging, teeth clenched, eyes large, a strange pleasure revealed—he was struck in the shoulder and he cried out, feeling his right arm go limp, and raised the other to shield his face. The second man hit Ram on the left side of his rib cage, unprotected and vulnerable. The pain from this blow overpowered the other, overpowered everything else, like the sun exploding behind closed eyes. He fell to the ground and was rolling and rolling and something struck the side of his head—was it the slab of wood? A stone on the road? One of the men cried out but Ram could understand only two words: Cheap labor! Cheap labor! Cheeeeaaaaaap! He knew they would hit him again. He wondered where the blow would land. Then he felt a shudder in the earth and heard the clatter of metal against metal. He raised his head as the trolley car rattled into the intersection.

Summoning all his strength, holding the side that had erupted in pain, he rose, swaying, then leaped for the trolley’s step, his boot catching the hard edge. He threw his body forward into the car and landed on his right side, which hurt less than the other, but his foot still dangled over the pavement. One of the men grabbed it, running with the trolley, cursing. Ram kicked madly and the man fell back. The car was empty except for the conductor standing far in the rear.

Ram shoved himself against the steps where he entered at the front, leaning against the doorway, hoping the conductor would not approach. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. Cheap labor, the man had yelled. There was also the girl. Why had he been attacked? Every movement hurt. A scarlet stain covered the front of Ram’s shirt. He wanted to know where it came from, it was damp and heavy and alarming, but he was afraid to look. There was a gash on his shin, and he did not know how he got it, but he could see the white bone under the skin. He thought he would faint, but somehow he willed himself to stay conscious.