The Country of Ice Cream Star (71 page)

‘Well, that was always the thing,’ say the Commandant. ‘There’s possible reasons, if they think.’

‘Grabbing at straws,’ say Verna thin. ‘If they believe that, I don’t know.’

‘It’s an okay straw,’ Hatter say. ‘If you didden have any other straws. It’s a straw.’

‘No, this is hopeful a little bit,’ the Commandant say. ‘Looks right, that we’re getting the kids out. That’s the right appearance. And any little dent in their morale, even if it’s just that.’

‘And the lizard colonel lives,’ say Verna. ‘Thank you, New York.’

‘Now, I’m giving this a yes. Thass all.’ The Commandant look to Patricia. ‘So, Captain, if you let the boys know what they’re doing.’

‘Sir, yes, sir.’ Patricia reach her crutch, go hoisting clumsy to her feet. Then she frown back to me. ‘And ma’am, if I could have a private word? It’s not anything, it’s just something.’

I follow her down the hall, back to the night its brittle cold. A snow beginning now, in heavy flakes that come down straight like aiming. Patricia stop beneath the jutting roof and ease her crutch. A minute, we only stand in silence. Worry to the night, the snow that fill the air with gentle lines.

Then Patricia sigh. Turn to me with conscience face. ‘What I wanted to say, ma’am. Verna didden want to tell you this – but the Commandant figures you got a right. So, avoiding all unpleasantness … thought I better talk to you alone.’

‘Can see.’

‘So, the little kids leaving, the Russians and everybody knows about that. But – unless your trick works, ma’am, which I certainly hope – everybody else is going, too.’

‘Foo.’ I take an icen breath. ‘All your Marines go flee?’

‘Well, it’s a couple battalions staying. By Fort Myer, Arlington Cemetery. They’ll do what they can, but thass one big distraction. The rest of us, we’ll be in the tunnels. Going out to the end of the line, at Glenmont.’

‘Glenmont. Be the north?’

‘Yeah. Verna figures that exit’s safe. No indication they know that’s there. It’s not what anybody wanted, you know that.’

‘Truth, I never thought you leave.’

Patricia nod unhappy. ‘Well, it’s not the end of the story, ma’am. When everyone’s on their way, our boys here set fire to the arms
depots. Got fire breaks around the Mall. Engineers are saying that Washington all be safe. But anything outside … well, it’s a lot of explosive in those streets.’

‘Ho, you burning District.’ I laugh thin. ‘Be spite to them?’

‘Something like that.’ Patricia shrug. ‘Thing is, it’s our people the Russians want. So we burn any supplies. Hole up in the woods, see who’s willing to starve the longest. Guessing that be us.’

She say this warry, but is something weakening in her eye. I nod slow in pondering, look back to the snowing night. Try to believe the roos discourage so, ain’t coming north in vengeance. In this, the cure remember, like a wisty desolation – remind when I expecting cure for every child. When victory been this.

‘Ma’am?’ Patricia touch my shoulder.

I startle to her. ‘Ya, is clever. Sure, they roos depart.’

‘Well, thank you, ma’am. But what I wanted to say, it’s about your Mamadou.’ I flinch, and she add hasty, ‘Don’t worry now, he’s fine.’

‘Bone.’ I sigh unsteady. ‘So what it be?’

‘What’s going on, your other people’s leaving. But Hatter wanted some extra soldiers for the operation tonight. So, what I unnerstood, any job like that, your people send the penals.’

I shiver somewhat, dig my hands in pockets. ‘Simón deciding this?’

‘Yeah.’ Patricia make a face. ‘Thass what I thought. It do have a taste.’

‘Taste?’

‘Thing is, Simón’s a fine general. He can do it.’ She pooch her lips. ‘But, mind telling you, I think that Mamadou’s a genius.’

‘Genius?’ I laugh nerviose. ‘What genius meaning in your people?’

‘Oh, you don’t think? Okay, lady, but your little stick-fight in New York was sharp. Some creativity there. On the part of Mister Mamadou, every time, what I saw. Put him in that Simón’s place, you seen something today. Why Simón wants him in the firing line, you want my opinion. Eliminate the competition. I know that game.’

‘Right.’ I frown back to the field. Snow gathering now, is like the
grass fill slow with gentle light. Yo, can only feel how children going to show against its whiteness.

Patricia touch my shoulder soft. ‘I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m only talking. Mamadou’ll be just fine. That type’s bulletproof, you know that.’

‘Ya.’ I force a smile. ‘Genius and so.’

‘I guess you got something on with him? What I was thinking.’

I look to her careful. ‘Something on. This meaning love?’

‘Yeah. Don’t want to assume on gossip. But those penal boys, they talk.’

‘Been something like.’ I shrug embarrass. ‘Most been forgotten with this war.’

‘Forgotten?’ Patricia grin. ‘Well, you’re casual. Don’t think I’d forget that boy so much.’

Cannot think anything to this. I only get a heaten face. Frown to the snowing night and wish into its blackish whitish stillness.

Patricia say beside, ‘I had a little case for him myself. But I couldn’t ever see it being anything real. Idden only that he never looked at me – thass facts, in case you’re worrying. But all that man ever talk about was war. He idden going to sit and hold your hand, I’m saying. Guess he’s like you – “forgotten with this war”. I like that.’

I look back to her, breathing better. ‘Ya, war be first. Is honor so.’

‘Honor, thass his word, all right.’ She make an innocent face. ‘So, I guess you wouldn’t be innerested where he is now? I guess not.’

‘How you meaning?’

‘Well, they’re up at Fort Myer. That ceasefire’s on till midnight.’ Patricia pooch her lips. ‘And now … well, it idden but eight o’clock.’

‘Ho,’ I say dumb. ‘Can see him.’

‘Well, you didden hear it from me, ma’am. Cause this here, the Commandant is
not
on board.’ She fish into her jacket pocket. ‘But, just so happens, I drawn you a map.’

71

FORT MYER, BY THE NEWKING

Must wait then through Patricia’s warnings, how I must return. ‘Midnight, that means midnight. Didden want to be your cause of death.’ Must skit back to my White House room and change to soldier garb, sling my Kalash for decency of war. Then I go running through the streets, in careful dance of land mines. Duck in Farragut shelter and I sprint between all littles’ beds, left nett in straight geometry – like they expect to fear the roos with their sheets’ perfectesse.

Yo, in the longer darkness that go underneath the river, I find the terrors waiting in my heart. Can feel, no one expect these soldiers left in Arlington will live. They sacrifice, so all the others flee without no harm. Mamadou give to roos like bait – all his bellesse, his wolfen courage. And Crow, who scarcely known no joy. They rid like nothing worth.

This mix into the greater horror of our war’s defeat. The Quanticos flee to woods, but sure they capture neverless. Marias taken quick behind. Whoever ain’t be kilt, will slave to wars of cannibals and tortures. And all our littles left without no help, in starving winter. My Sengle enfants left, to fight for scraps, to hunt with unschool hands.

Yo, Pasha convince me to this war. Told every careful explanation. But now I seen this war in life, I seen our petty rifles warring
with the rooish tanks and planes. It never been no hope. Roo got to know this, plain as eyesight. He live by Russian armies sixteen years.

And in the eyeless dark, Toporov Vampire coming real. He stare from every blackness, be like shadows of the nothing there. I walk through nightmares where Toporov killing Sengles for their meat. He stand on a murdern eight and grin – and this dead eight be Keepers.

Climb outside at last, and I be wrong besweaten, breathing thin. Must pause into the sanity of night, breathe to my townie stars. Then my heart come back again, my bravery return.

Come out by Pentagon exit, where the land lie flat, is bare of trees. The snow quit now, but done its harm. Land gleam white, and every stick show obvious by staring moon.

Ain’t want to walk the land-mine patterns, how they all confuse in snow. So I take the overpass road, that ride aloft a bridge of highway. One side, be the cliffy shape of Pentagon its ruins. This night, smoke rising from its yard, where soldiers tent for rest. Lift delicate white, and change itself in thinking complications – like this be a camp of ghosts that wandern innen-out of clouds. Yo, on farther hill, can see the peak of Arlington House. It only be a house, with normal pillars and triangle roof. But its pale looks still chill in me. Is like an evil fact that I be slow to comprehend.

Behind this sight, I run on quick. Want no more mally thoughts. Ya, be relief when I step to a housen porch at last.

This Myer house be bricky edifice, sizen like a Christing home. Expect it be some bossy child to meet me, but its halls be empty. Can only hear the woof of soldier talk beyond–above. I go toward this voice to ask – but then I see, each door here got a name writ on in charcoal. Is sleeprooms, give particular to each soldier who need rest.

NewKing’s door be easy found. It be the third inside. I pause before this door, gone shy with all distracting feelings. Think of knocking, but I never knock on doors before. Scarce believe that
any a child do this in actual life. At last, I bite down on my courage. Open the door in quick unthought.

Mamadou lain asleep. Be on a springy bed, the blankets pull up to his ear. Can hear his breath go deep and slow. Room seem like it sleep along; his hanging goods seem like some grayish objects in his dream. And it inkle strange in me, I never seen him sleep before. Ain’t seem like Mamadou somehow, that he sleep. My mind keep thinking this unsense as I close up the door behind. Crouch down, undo my boots. Unclad my coat and leave it to the floor.

Then I catch in different nerves, that he ain’t going to want me here. Child need rest. Is war to do. Stare at my coat, think how I still can leave. But cannot move myself. At last I look by to the NewKing’s face, like he will sympathy.

His eyes be open. Ya, they show a waiting fear – the same quick fear he shown when I come to him at the Reese. Expect, like any time before, he settle into scorn. But his face go only cautieuse. And when he speak, he say, rough from his sleep, ‘Door got a bolt.’

I go and fix the bolt without no word. Take off all my clothes in shivering haste. And when I come to him, can feel we both be frightening like no cowards. I even muttern foolish, ‘Damn, be cold,’ and press against him like it be his warmth I seek.

Then, in this hour stolen from the war, our love be worse beyond. We cling together with no words, until our scary silence be another nakedness. Is loving with no fight, is helpless. Every touch be words insane – and be the only truthful words I known. Be like a perfect name. Bed make its noise, and someone laugh outside – but no outside seem real. He in myself, without no difference, and this be my life.

And it be by. Our fear be by, and we lie simple in our bodies. He hold my face in his long hand. I hold his hand against my face.

Then I say soft, ‘I fought in trenches there, one day. Been nothing feary.’

Mamadou lying like he been, but I can feel his breathing sharpen. In rooms above, be footsteps now, and sounds of draggen loads.

I say, ‘Got my rifle also.’

Mamadou kiss my brow then, start to pull me closer to. I stiffen from him. Say up short, ‘Be saying, I can fight by you.’

His laugh come warm against my ear. ‘Girl, you Maria.’

‘Ain’t been Maria when – nay, be some nonsense words. Maria.’

‘Who you fighting by, be penals.’

‘Ya, be penals. So?’

‘They ain’t accepting this. Maria fight by them?’

I loose my breath. ‘Yo right.’

Out in the night, some male be talking now, in voice of cold instruction. Ain’t hear particular words until some hundred children answer unison, ‘Sir, yes, sir!’

I say weak, ‘Ain’t any means we fight by Quanticos? They ain’t care.’

‘Think that, you ignorant to fight.’

‘Nay, I know. Was only … sure, I know.’

Then Mamadou put his hand across my eyes. I grab up at his fingers, but he catch this hand. Can feel him laughing soft against me, and I say, ‘Yo fool. What you want?’

‘You fearing for me, Ice Cream Star?’

‘And so?’

‘Fear for myself.’

He put lips to my throat, say quiet, ‘We fight an hour, most it be. Ain’t even got to hold no ground. Fight till we lose, then leave across that bridge. All it is.’

‘Ain’t what Patricia said.’

‘I ain’t plan to die tonight. Ever Patricia said.’

Be a minute then, he kiss my mouth. I lose in darker thoughts, ain’t even heed this kiss its pleasure. Be mapping his battle in my mind. Fight at Fort Myer, then they must retreat through Arlington Cemetery. Cross the bridge to Washington Mall itself, then find a tunnel to flee.

I see the cemetery clear in memory. Trenches I dug myself; the gravestones that be extra hidings. But be the naked bridge.

At last, I pull away. ‘Yo, do me this. I meet you at the bridge. On Washington side, ain’t asking that I fight.’

He shake his head. ‘Nay, Sengle.’

‘Shee, ain’t no harm to you. I know they tunnels like my hand. I bring your penals safe from there.’

‘Nay. Got an ask myself.’

I grit impatient. Steel myself against his normal vanities. But he say only tired, ‘Need you to take First Runner out.’

Then all my nerves break into laugh. I sit up, pulling blankets. Ya, the NewKing catch this foolishness and start to wrestle, push me down. I shove my knee into his stomach, laughing breathless. ‘Nay, you bring her here? You mad as netten fish, you mad.’

He laugh back to me. ‘Ain’t bring her, shee. Child sneak behind.’

I hold, still clutching his arm in wrestling pose. ‘Foo, come sneaking?’

‘How she is.’ Mamadou shake his head. ‘Got a horse, she ride.’

‘Damn, she brought my Money here?’

‘Horse in the woods there, sure.’

‘Goddamn.’ Then we only smiling close. Thought come to me that we got only minutes, then is death to face. But I ain’t want this thought. I rid it silent from my mind.