The Country of Ice Cream Star (54 page)

‘Ain’t know,’ say Pasha.

This catch me funny somehow. I laugh, and only then get conscience that I still be weeping. Rub at my face and say, ‘Goddamn. Been wolfen, that. Been wolfen?’

‘Nay.’ Pasha touch my shoulder again. ‘Sure you ain’t hurt?’

‘Yo, my hand.’ I open up my palm. Shard of glass be obvious big, and I go pick it out unthinking. Then sudden blood wash down my wrist. I laugh up thin, while Pasha swearing. He grab my hand and wrap it quick into my dressen skirt. Pull the lacy fabric tight, and close my hand upon.

Then a voice come from the forward seat, ‘You two all right back there?’

I shift to sitting. In the forward seat, it be two children. The first a Ministerio driver that I known, our Pepi. The other child a stranger, chub-face jones in soldier garb.

Pepi sketch his eyes back, say in anxy voice, ‘You got the message?’

‘Message?’ I say hoarse. ‘Nay, what you meaning?’

The stranger child laugh harsh. ‘Figures. Ricky’s an idiot.’

Pepi nod toward him. ‘This is Taco. It’s my brother.’

‘Ho, Taco,’ I say stupid. ‘Like the meal.’

Pepi–Taco laugh, but Pasha say impatient through, ‘Where we go?’

Taco stiffen at this. Look back disliking on my Pasha. ‘Just making sure we lost those Inúds. Then we’re going to Metro.’

‘Nay, we in Metro now,’ I say.

Taco bring his face to better courtesy. ‘Miss Maria, we just got to shake off anybody who’s following us. Don’t want them to know where you’re going. That’d be a whole other mess.’

‘But I want no Metro,’ I say. ‘What we wanting there?’

Pepi say, with sorry grimace, ‘Take you to Felipe.’

‘Felipe?’ I say footless. ‘Apostle Felipe?’

‘Yeah, that’s the one.’ Taco get a careful face. ‘So, Miss Maria, here’s the thing. Felipe wants you to show up at his church. It’s Nochebuena mass, so everybody in Metro’s there.’

‘Ain’t safe,’ say Pasha.

‘Oh, really?’ Taco squint at him. ‘I didn’t know that, thanks. Now I’m suddenly scared for the first time.’

Pepi say in worry voice, ‘You don’t afraid, senyora?’

‘Afraid?’ I clutch my injure hand. ‘Nay, of Felipe.’

‘It’s really just getting there,’ Taco say. ‘The bad guys don’t know Felipe’s left the team. So, you get in the church, you’re good. You got Felipe’s guards, you should be safe. And we’ll just disappear, so once you get inside–’

‘But hold,’ I say. ‘You saying, Felipe sent you? This be his?’

Taco biggen eyes. ‘You think Felipe done this? Serious?’

‘Then who?’ My voice come peevish. ‘Who you be?’

For answer, Taco put his hand up, show its scribblen back. Black among the soldier drawings be a fatten P.

I frown, think through all burrow names. Taco wait with mischief pleasure – like we play at riddles, and he choose his question well. At last, my wits come clear. ‘Goddamn, you penals? What it is?’

‘Yeah,’ say Taco. ‘Guys back there who saved you. Penals. Remember that.’

‘Shee,’ I say, ‘but how you known to come? My people told?’

‘Miss Maria,’ Taco say, ‘we didn’t know a goddamn thing. We thought we was picking you up from the sidewalk, peaceful. And I cannot believe Ricky didn’t give you the message. That’s some limp behavior.’

Pepi say with nervy laugh, ‘When we come, is soldiers everywhere. We don’t know anything. We must get other men, so quick.’

I shake my head. ‘But how Felipe be in this?’

Taco shrug. ‘Do we know? We don’t know. Mamadou said to bring you to Felipe, so that’s what we’re doing.’

‘Mamadou?’ I say footless. ‘Nay, was Mamadou sent you there?’

‘Yeah, you’re in Mamadou’s war.’ Taco grin. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Maria. That’s what’s happening.’

I sit back, staring foolish. Now the car, its darkness wind, feel like peculiar sleeps. Taco go lean down, can see him fishing up a bottle. Uncap the bottle and he drink, and all these shadow motions be a disbelief to me. Only the cold seem real, the forward seats close to my nose.

Then Taco squint eyes back to Pasha. ‘Mister Jesus, can you be a second gun for me? Just lying there … I mean, no offence, but she’s the one who’s got to live. That’s what we’re doing.’

54

THE SEARCH TO MASSA WOODS

For longer time, we going nowhere. Pasha–Taco keep their windows down, ware out with guns. I shiver and clutch my hand onto its blood, press back to Pasha’s warm. Car swing us to its weight in turning, rile its engine louden-soft, and Taco’s voice continue through the wind like comfort dream. He telling the story, how the search transpire in Massa woods.

The searchers been Juan’s guard of twenty men, with sixty penals. Ya, been Mamadou–Crow–First Runner, quiet kept from all. Bossing been apostle Juan. This child be a young sixteen, face still got looks of baby chubness. Most every penal–guard look huge beside his ungrown self. ‘So, how that always goes,’ say Taco. ‘Juan’s just got to show how tough he is. Kid’s never been near a gunfight, so don’t
nobody
tell him nothing. But basically, Miss Maria, that’s the definition of an officer.’

First night been easy journeys. Drive to Citgo camp took petty hours; our Massa horses there. Only been some trepidations when they choosing ponies. Marianos mostly never sat a horse before. Of all they children, only Juan be cleverish to ride.

Juan take the NewKing’s personal stallion, Beg-No-Pity. Choose this grandy horse for show, and suffer his bucking tempers. Mamadou–Crow take Army beasts; First Runner take my Money,
kickety mare who dislike strangers. The others find some Lowell horses, slow to any bother. Ya, it take some sweating work before they make these animals move.

Beyond these normal mishaps, been no trouble their first days. Was only on their third night out, no histories begin. This been a petty incident about the NewKing’s rifle, that he buying with my eary diamond.

From first beginnings, the child who sold this object get regrets. But his greed ain’t tolerate to trade the diamond back. Instead, he sneak around the NewKing, robbery in mind. But how it is, my Mamadou bewaring murders on this trip. Even in sleep, he leave Crow watching or First Runner. One always waking while the others rest.

This bring the penal – Sticks in naming – into bad frustrations. So, on this second night, Sticks wait until First Runner’s watch. Tackle her from behind and rob the rifle from her unsize hands. Then he stalk careless off. How he think, be any fight, his townie penals join with him.

First Runner stubborn as a rock, and all her mind be honor. Ain’t even comprehend no person do this wormliness. So she dog this penal’s heels, explain his fault with loud complaint. When Sticks only swearing back, her noise increase to yell. Soon every child be woken, griping, ya the NewKing first among.

Can think, the NewKing risen angry to this stealing problem. But he laugh like the others, how First Runner read this jumbo soldier lessons on his cowardesse. When Sticks swat a hand at her, she dodge, but never quit her scold. Soon be children shouting that he give the rifle back. Ain’t no one sleep without.

Taco tell us: ‘I think Sticks might have just done it. But Mamadou decides to make an issue. He gets up and says, “I fight you for it.” So, we all knew Mamadou had the broken shoulder, so people’s saying, “You can’t fight with all that.” But Mamadou won’t let it go. And Sticks, he comes out ready. So that’s what they done.’

Sticks be burglar people. All his boxing been with stubborn
windows. Yo, Mamadou scrapping every day of life, how Armies do. So this fight be quick and done. Soon Sticks be flubbering in the dirt with blooden nose and gasping breath. Mamadou kneel upon and rob my eary diamond from his pocket, fling it in yonder woods. Sticks spend the farther night in hunting for this small richesse.

After this, the penals hold the NewKing in regard. Nor they lose respects when Crow explain what Nat Mass Armies been. To them, the simpers be like sexy fantasies. Ya, tales about the feathers kilt – by roos, by Soledad – become their tragedy entertainments. They prize myself in admiration, that I save the NewKing; yo the NewKing be like sacred heroes, that Maria save him. All be mysteries of drama, better than no boring life.

Fifth day of this search, the expedition catch two roos. These fled the rooish army themself, behind some crime they done. Yo, they relieve to hear the Marianos talking Panish. Like Pasha, this be languages they learnt in earlier war. Juan and his closer guards go question them apart. They be an hour away, then Juan return with pleasing smile.

One capture roo, guards shoot direct. Ain’t hide this for no decency. The other roo, they hold and break his feet, to keep him from escape. Smash them with a rifle stock, while he scream and beg his life. Then they lift him, sobbing, feeble kept, to ride behind a guard.

How Taco say, this cruelty start a time of evil moods. All hours, can hear the roo his groans. When he must climb down, land on his feet, he scream like baby agony. And now Juan take a sideward road, without no explanations. Road be thin and overgrown, is mostly lost to trees. Yo, thick along its length be bandon towns.

‘That road was terrifying, serious,’ Taco say. ‘It was just empty houses, and you could see that people’d been living there. Yeah, you could
smell
it. Cause we’d come through a patch of houses and, my god. You try breathing through your mouth, and you could
taste
it. Just dead bodies. The penals was all praying, and these are not
religious people. And when you saw a body – sometimes they’d left them hung in a tree – at first, they’d look like they were moving, you know? But it was just all maggots. And that Russian crying and screaming. And all the time, he keeps saying in Spanish,
No, we’re going to the Russians here. Why are we going to them?
You know, he still prefers
us
. So, you start to think about that.’

At first, the penals see no necessary wrong, to go toward Russians. All known, they hunting roos to question. Only, they argue backen-forth, if two roos been enough. Their most suspicion be, Juan got no brains for warry task, and lead them pointless into danger.

But Mamadou born to evil ways. Worst guess will be his first belief. Yo he known Deema; known what roos expect from helpful children. Start working in his mind, and ask Juan’s guards some sneaky questions. Then it take no thinking hours before he comprehend. He tell his conclusions to the penals in his confidence, with certainty of pride.

At first, they shoo his notions. But their progress through dead towns prolong a day, another day. Soon no evil seem peculiar to belief. The corpsen pue keep sickening in their breath, the Russian’s wailing scrape their nerves. Camping at night, no child can sleep, go jittering up at every sound. Yo, Mamadou say and he repeat,
Juan bring us to the Russians now. We be his first payment
.

Second night of this, they come to woods beyond no houses. Is dusk, but ain’t no child got moods to camp. They dread the forward path, and dread the woods immediate around; dread the road behind with all its bones and horror stank. Yo, as the sun go quenching into blackness, they hear voices.

First, they only halt their horses, irresponsible with fear. Even Juan stare terryifying round and aim his gun at shadows. But slow, they start to hear correct – these voices be of enfant children. Is littles, squeaking harmless, somewhere in the forward dark.

Then Juan trot on forward. The others follow, laugh relief. Be magining some healthy place, some company from fear.

Through the inky trees, the town be normal in its looks. Houses
all sit close together, streets be trodden grass. But, as they ride in, a scream come up. All petty shadows scatter, vanish like some panic mice. The houses slam, the woods go crunching with all desperate feet. Time they come out to the clear, be only the houses with their unlit windows, dumb in silent woods.

Juan go yell, in Panish ya in English, promise friendship. This only bring a daring skree, ‘We got guns! Go away!’ Penals–guards try calling also, swearing various to faith. But be no farther word. Only can see a rifle pointing from a neary window.

Taco tell us: ‘So, Mamadou says he’ll send First Runner, and everyone else should back off. He just says this, like he’s in charge. But nobody’s got any better ideas. And yeah, she goes, doesn’t even say anything. Knocks at a door. And they let her in, and it’s like five minutes later, all these little kids come out. There was just little kids, that’s all it was there. Nobody over ten years old.’

Been most five hundred enfants in this clutch of twenty buildings. All be from the murdern towns beside that evil road.

Some was left by all their older children without violence. How this been, a roo appear, tell promises about the cure. Roo say it be one day of walking to their wonder hospital, where every jones can heal. But no littles can accompany. Place be risky for their health. So the older children leave, with only carrying enfants taken. Nor no whisper coming back. These children gone and gone.

Worser stories start alike. A roo appear with promises, but children slow to trust. His promises becoming threats, and when this ain’t succeed, the roo depart. Return a week behind, with hundred others, wearing guns.

Times they only herding jones together, shoot no child. But where too many people hide, they murdering for demonstrations. Will take whoever come obedient; then they hunting through the woods with hounds, kill who they find.

Ya, been one town where every child been murdern, small and big. Only one petty six survive, who hidden sneaky in a woodpile. Stay in this darkness, terrify, while shooting–screaming pass and dwindle. Come out to a world of dead, all staring, crawling strange with ants.

Now, ain’t no older child remain. In all these woods, is only brats. By fews and fews, they gather here, for comfort in their numbers. Ya, these weeks, the winter worsen into cold starvation. Now they eating moths and bark, whatever seeming most like food. Already some smaller enfants die from want.

These tales bring the Marianos into awful sentiments. Soon they given most their food away, forgot their practical minds. They sleep that night on floors, with littles cuddling to their warm. How Taco say, most penals–guards got enfants of their own. Can do some vicious manners, but they weakly for a baby.