The Country of Ice Cream Star (32 page)

‘He ain’t. Got nothing like.’

‘Can mistake. Can happen so. Is normal.’

‘So soldat work mean, kill for nothing?’

His stillness feel like anger. I watch past him at the water, but all my nerves be in his cold respect. My heart peculiar close.

At last, he answer low, ‘It mean, keep living. Keep your people living.’

‘Kill any another child?’

Expect, he going to cavil this, but he say simple, ‘Yes.’

I take my breath. ‘Some bad cowardesse.’

‘I living. You be living.’

‘So, you be a bone soldat.’

Pasha’s shape go lower. Fingers come in bald moonlight, feeling in the dirt. He scrabble a pebble out and take this in his whitish fingers.

I say, ‘You sad as losing, roo. Every word you say.’

He sigh and toss his pebble. It clop in water, courteose small, send rings of moon along the brook skin.

I say, ‘Armies likely only take me anyhow. Ain’t murdering much. They rather rape.’

Pasha shake his head in gloom dislike. Can see, he prude this rape, like males will do.

Now mischief catch in me. ‘Can be best, they take me. I learn what happen to the children left in Massa. Guess I escape, sometime. Worser wear, but still can talk.’

Pasha say unhappy, ‘I ain’t let them take you.’

‘You ain’t want to know what been in Massa?’

‘Nay,’ he say flat. ‘Got no want.’

He chuck another pebble in the brook. It slap there angry, lift a splash.

‘Been only fooling with you. Shee.’ I sit back to the bank. Its cold touch through my jacket, send a tinge into my spine. I get my cigarettes out and count them over. Put them back.

Then Pasha say resenting low, ‘Mamadou ain’t your friend.’

I shrug, surprise. ‘Sure I know this.’

‘You tell me once, you got some love with him.’

‘Be other memories. Is done.’

‘So, why you protect him?’

‘Protecting no one. Shee, no wolf kill all those children. Ain’t for love, is person feeling.’

Can feel his unbelief. His hands shift nervy on his gun.

‘Goddamn,’ I say, ‘you got to know, I be with El Mayor these days. No Mamadou in this story. Done.’

Then hotness brighten in my face. Feel like swears inside, ain’t know how Pasha always get my secrets. I duck my head and touch my lips to Kalash’s friendly cold.

Pasha say cautieuse, ‘You be with El Mayor, like doing love?’

‘What else you think?’ I laugh into my gun.

‘I ain’t known this.’

‘Ain’t going to know. We kept this quiet to ourself.’

Can hear him shift behind, like he discomfort. I look back. He holding on his gun precarious now, like it be careful goods. When he catch me looking, his face change. He say, like he excuse, ‘Be bone child. El Mayor.’

‘He worthy, truth.’ I sit up. ‘Infantize me sometimes, but he bone.’

Then Pasha say unliking, ‘How, if you go pregnant?’

‘Foo, must be pregnant, sometime.’

Expect he going to mention fears again, our needful journeys. But he say, ‘You young for this.’

‘Ho, you dreaming fantasies.’ I huff a laugh. ‘Be almost old. Ain’t like to get no enfant when I be sixteen or seventeen. They never going to know me. I can die before they talking words.’

This hush him well. I watch the squirming water light, taken in worry dreams. Truth, I got no haste for enfants. Can see myself, all bellyish trudging, going to roos for robbing work. Must hope, I find the cure before I grow no heavy baby. But I got no sign of pregnant. Is always hope I got a molly belly, never get no life.

Then clear into the night, we hear a voice, come harsh in skree. We hand up our guns. Some time, we only listen scary. Hear every detail of the passing water, how its moods repeat. Then the voice come close and long. Is Keepers’ squall, go peaking terrify in the quiet woods.

Fast as thinking, I leap up. Ya, Pasha rear behind, we running, crashing, up the closer bank. As we come, can hear more voices
yelling, various in distance. And I know, these voices be of Sengles. Yell my name in fright.

First we see be Hate You Ka. She dash up anxy and call back, ‘She here! Ice Cream be here!’ Then Keepers run to, wild, with hammock hair and teary face. She barrel to me, crying, ‘Where you been? Was roos? Nay, where you been?’

‘Been no roos,’ I cosset at Keepers’ head. ‘Ain’t nothing like.’

Keepers slap my arm. ‘Nay, you been gone!’

Then Jonah sprint in from the road, with million terrors in his face. ‘Jermaine still looking. Someone got to tell him.’

‘So tell him,’ I say riling. ‘You all worrying for what?’

‘You lost!’ say Keepers.

‘Foo, ain’t lost! Been only by the brook.’

Then Jonah say in trembling voice, ‘The simper be by you?’

My heart misgive. Can see how Jonah’s tears begin, his brow knit feary.

‘Nay,’ I say. ‘She gone?’

‘Ya, and Piglet gone,’ say Jonah. ‘Army horse, he missing.’

Hate You say, ‘Our good child found them gone. And you was gone.’ Her face be set in fear confusion, like she wake in fright.

‘Be only Piglet gone?’ I say. ‘The other horses left to us?’

Hate You nod. ‘They left.’

I try to think how Soledad can take this horse herself. But she got no reason that she leave in secret from my brother.

Then Pasha say behind, ‘Armies. Been no guard.’

‘Sure I know!’ I say. ‘Been my mistake, you right. Think forward.’

‘Armies?’ Hate You say. She blink hard, like she try to focus this.

‘Got word from Crow, they here,’ I say in misery. ‘Come tonight. How long the simper gone?’

‘Ain’t know.’ She look skitty to the trees. ‘Our good child only woken.’

I breathe and try to find my thought. Leaf said, THE NEWKING COME FOR YOU. Cannot be meant for no one else. But Crow care for no simper. Ain’t figure he will, she Army goods by every definition.
And be sure, the Armies steal her back. Seen my stupidities, I ain’t think this sooner.

Then Hate You say uncertain, ‘Now they got her, Armies leave, you think?’

‘Nay.’ I breathe out harsh. ‘They wait for me.’

‘Why they waiting you?’ say Jonah.

‘Ain’t your problems,’ I say short. ‘They here, we still can get her.’

Hate You say confusen, ‘Get her?’

‘Get her?’ Jonah parrot. ‘How we get the simper? She be theirs.’

‘We getting her,’ I say frustrating. ‘Be no arguments, you heed?’

They stare reluctant faces back. Jonah wipe a tear away, eyes bright with sickness look.

‘Yo heed,’ I say in lower voice. ‘Me–Pasha going now, scout where the Armies be.’ I look to Pasha. ‘We be right?’

He frown uncertainties, but I say harder, ‘Yo we right. Hate You, go and wake they Lowells. Any jones who got a gun. See they ready when we come back.’

Here Keepers say in fright joyeuse, ‘Be murder war. They Armies perish.’

‘Damn!’ I say. ‘Ain’t be no murder, nor this be your parley, small.’

Jonah pinch his mouth, touch to the pistol at his pocket. ‘I got to come? Must fight the Armies?’

I sigh frustration. ‘Nay, ain’t got to come. But tell Jermaine. Now move yourself! Go on!’

They catch a second, gape at me, like they will beg for different orders. Then Hate You yelp and go. And Jonah swear, go running terrify like he flee his death.

I turn, touch Pasha’s shoulder, and start off. He come behind. But when we gone past hearing distance, Pasha catch my arm. I wheel to him, my fear gone angry. ‘What? Yo what you need?’

‘Ain’t got to come.’ His hand grip in my arm.

‘Nay, what you saying?’

‘You, ain’t got to come.’

‘I coming. Nor it be no needless killing. Heed my word.’

‘Ice, this ain’t your work.’

‘I coming, get no fool mistakes. I coming.’

His face grit hard. ‘Nay. We both stay here, if you be so.’

‘How? If I be so?’

‘Needless killing.’

‘Shee, we only scouting now.’

His hand close painful on me. ‘They can see us.’

‘So they seeing. And?’

‘Ice, why they come? They come for you.’ His bluish eyes gone bright with need.

I shake my head. Catch breath and try to figure. ‘So, they see us, we can fire in air. They running, like they done at Army camp.’

‘Ain’t think this. Or they never run.’

‘Damn, how my thinking be in this?’

‘Must shoot.’

‘Been said! I going to shoot.’

‘Nay, must shoot someone. Must …’ Can see him struggle with his words. My body be a white impatience. Pasha say, ‘I shoot first. They run, is bone. But cannot trust this. Ain’t going to shoot someone, you staying here.’

I shake my head, can feel my sweat begin. ‘Nay, if–’

‘Ice, I ain’t take you to be kilt!’

Then his bluish anger find my heart. Something weaken in me, was like a choice that vanish there. I say, ‘Be bone. I shoot.’

He loose my arm. I start to turn, but he grab to Kalash. Find her safety switch, and fix the setting to three-bullet. He say, ‘When you shoot, must aim again.’

‘Yo I know! Been hunting every years!’

He free Kalash and say, ‘Is right. Like hunting. Think like this.’

Now dawn be starting in the east. We stalk into its gray suspicion. Trees lean over their first shadows, and the dampen leaves go docile soft beneath our feet. Light be enough to find the prints of Piglet’s
hooves, but dim for hiding. Is perfect for our task, but all this weigh in my unwanting nerves.

Keep thinking restless, Pasha got no moods to only scout. He go to murder simple, if they see us or they ain’t. But truth, can see no other end. Armies never give their simpers, ain’t their honor so. We leaving Soledad, or must be war. Is Pasha right.

Try telling myself some worser stories of their Army rapes. How they done Soledad. Can be, they rape her now, is like themself. Fix this in mind, and I decide again to do this, shoot a child. Decide again. But behind, I see how Pasha aim on green Karim. Remember how the feather in the simper house jerk back and wheel. Fall through his falling blood.

And we going through the woods. Ain’t nothing. No unplace sound, no smell of smoke. Is only time. Pasha moving dreamen slow, his rifle conscious in his hands. Yo I feel like madness, slow beside. Once, a squirrel badge up by our feet, and we both jump like chickens. Come back to sense with rifles pointing wild. Then we go back to stalking. Ain’t even feel no smile at this. I only hear our telling noise and swear inside myself.

And time go into time, until it feel like a forever task. Must wonder if we pass the Armies somehow. If they heard us, and they stalking to, around. Yo, all this weaken and return to green Karim again. How I will aim, and shoot, and someone wheel into a flash of blood. If it be Mamadou. Be Crow. How someone turn and shoot on me.

Then I smell smoke. I stalk on for some steps, ain’t trust my feeling. Pasha walking on, ain’t notice. I squint forward scary. Ain’t see no motion yet, I start to wave my hand to Pasha.

Yo as I wave, I hear a rumbling sound come from my other side. Is like horizon thunder, but it grow and it continue. Come slow mysteriose, a constant grinding that rise from behind, and stay as one big blowing note. But ain’t no storm. No thunder: sky look perfect clear around. And then it passing forward big. Pass us again, again, in waves. Ahead, it jitter and change and hush. I hold in
unmeaning fear, like panics in a nightmare, where the dread ain’t got no self. Is only knowledge with no thing to name.

And Pasha standing still. His rifle weaken in his hands. Roo be looking big-eyed into nothing. The smell of smoke remain in this, like comfort I can hold to. Is smoke. Is Armies, something that I known.

Then a gunshot deafen loud. As I startle, come more gunshots, pounding into everywhere. We both gone flailing to the ground. I fall clumsy, belly down. Be scrabbling hard in panic, like I need some lower ground beneath. Gunshots kicking all my sense, be like a hundred guns at once. Pass a gasping madness before I find my hold upon Kalash. Look up squinting, almost blind. Eyes themself be fearing. Gunshots go in bursts, knock all my courage twenty ways.

But when I look up, Pasha kneeling. I stare at him unknowing, and he wave me angry up. Only then, I feel how nothing changen in the air. Shots ain’t come at us, be somewhere else – and then they stop. Stop like nothing been. Hear voices shouting somewhere. Be too far to comprehend.

First moment, I ain’t brave to move. Feel like any part I show will be shot into pieces. Then I grit my jaw, I creep one leg to rising pose. Yell swears in my head, and grip Kalash as I get to my feet.

I feel the nothing in my flesh. How the air stand calm around, ain’t nothing killing me. Voices dimmer in the woods beyond. A horsen neigh.

Pasha be standing in some staring terror. Rifle to his shoulder, but he got no aiming face. And I shoulder up Kalash. Go forward quick, ware angry in the trees. I stalk into my terror. Hear Pasha hasten noisy after, but I got no care for this. I only feel the smell of smoke. A rustling through the trees. Where those shots been.

Then in the woods before, my eye catch a moving shape. I startle jolten. Rifle falter as I start to duck. Then it recognize. A horse. It move at shouting distance, shape confusing in the trees. I ware my gun again, my finger slipping sweaty on the trigger. Watch feroce
until it feel like I must see through these trees. See everything I need. But I only see the horsen shape in shifting parts of brown.

Now Pasha stalking past. I go along, my rifle moving awkward to my walking. And we come toward this horse, and see the trees and see the horse. Be this and then there be some quiet smoke. Another horse beyond.

We stop in thinner woods, among a dozen nervy horses. A fire be burning low. Is various trash around, and no one there.

Now our paths confuse. We turning, seeking, aim guns every way. One moment, I turn round and touch my shoulder at a horse’s nose. It snort and back away, and when I look, I know the NewKing’s buckskin stallion, Beg-No-Pity. Is like a memory jump out from my head.

Then Pasha call to me, low-voice. I want to shout at him to hush. But I come along, see where he waring on the ground. My rifle loosen in my aching arms.

On the ground, lain curlen, be the feather red Malik. His cardinal feathers crush along the earth, and blood lie red behind. Blood gone particular on the fallen leaves, confuse their different shapes. Now it remember senseless, he First Runner’s brother born. Remember how I fight him once, and he start giggling foolish when I clout him in the eye with mud.