The Country of Ice Cream Star (55 page)

Yo, every child expecting certain, now their journey find its end. Will bring these enfants back in rescue. Obvious be simple. With-without no cure, the city need to rid these Russians. It even be insistences, they kill their captive roo.

But in the morning, Juan say they must ride on. Enfants ain’t their care, they must continue with the search.

‘Now, if we
don’t
do what he says, we can’t go home. That’s the thing. It’s a disobeying orders thing, I don’t know if you know that. And it’s weird. That point, we all believed – the penals done – what Mamadou said, how they’d sell us to the Russians. But we all started down the road again. It’s habitual or some shit, I don’t know.

‘So I don’t know how far that would have gone. If we would have done something. Cause then Mamadou starts to come to us, and says he’s going to take Juan out. And we were, okay, that wasn’t no problem. That was good. And he says, when he does it, we should go back to the town. He’ll meet us there.

‘Well, we started hanging back right off. Cause we didn’t know
what the guards were thinking. Nobody’s happy, but what are they thinking? It could have been a whole firefight.’

How Mamadou rid Juan safe, been neater foxeries. He take a piney stick. Peel it particular to hurt. Then, in their normal progress, he trot up behind where Juan ride Beg-No-Pity. Raise arm and land this stick with force in Beg-No-Pity’s tender parts.

Horse hit out like bullet furiose, Juan clinging on. Ya Mamadou gallop after. Guards startle footless, take some time to even know their eyes. At last, they go pursuing, but they all be stupid riders. Only lose themself in trees, their horses sluggish to no chase.

Penals never wait. They turn back to the enfant town. After a minute’s ride, they hear some gunshots from the hinder woods. Get to the town at their slow trot, and Mamadou be there already. He riding Beg-No-Pity, and he raise Juan’s rifle in his hand. Pass this off to Sticks while all the others laughing wild relief.

And Mamadou say, ‘Whoever fear rebellion, go and find they guards. Ain’t need you. But whoever want to make this right, you come with me.’

From this moment, he been telling orders to them all. He leave some children back to bring the enfants to Marias, ya First Runner stay in trust. Others ride home quick. Infest the projects in the flood. Been there eight days, done every spying work, prepare their secret war. Now, how Taco boast, they take the city, rid these wrong apostles. Then they go to wolfen combat, kill all Russians born. Be histories to write about their missions wonderful. ‘Seriously, what we’re doing here? Who else ever done that? I’ll tell you – no one done anything like it, Miss Maria. What I’m saying.’

55

THE METRO SPEECH

While this news continue, my hand quit its nuisance bleeding. Taco reach us back his booze, and Pasha clean my face with this, rub with his inside sleeve. He find a cut above my eye, and I try to gladden, how I maybe get a bragging scar. But, ever Taco rest his voice, I see my Anselm in the dirt. The rifle nose come down. His dying blood hit on my face. Then I push back toward Pasha’s knees, gone shivering awful through myself. Once Pasha lean down and arm me round. We huddle in the dark, my head press into his warm throat, while shadows slipping over us, the cold wind ache its voice.

Taco’s story finish, and I be lying half in sleep, skirt wrap around my freezing arms, when the car come slow and stop. I open eyes to friendly lectric lights, good nighten softness.

Pasha say, ‘We here, Ice.’ He put his palm down to my forehead, like he check my fever.

‘Ya, I bone. Is Metro?’

‘Should be okay here,’ Taco say. ‘Unless you go in and Felipe’s dead all over the place. That’d be a bad sign.’

We all laugh scary to this. I sit up, rubbing at my head. Feel like it going to ache, but it be only weighten wrong. Pasha open the carren door, and I crawl out behind him, feeling bruises stiff down my left side. Step out on snow concree that ache into my naked feet.

Pasha slam the door, and our good car go driving off in roar. I
look back startling, feel some cheaten nerves that Pepi–Taco gone. Then Pasha touch my arm reminding. I come hasty on my painful feet toward the churchen steps.

At the doors, there be three Metros watching for us, perfect in their wealthy clothes. They do stooping reverence as I come. A fourteen girl in blackish furry coat hold out a cup to me. Say Panish, touch her chest. Male beside her say, ‘For warm, senyora.’

I take the cup. Is gratty hot in my stiff fingers. I think of poison, but I drink it neverless. Is heaten wine. Pasha fussing at my skirt, brush something from its cloth. Stand up again with worry eyes. I hand the cup back to this girl and whisper, ‘Gracias.’

Then we pass into the softer cold of this big church.

Be lit with thousand candles, set in spidery metal tachments on the ceiling and the walls. Even with this, the church be gentle with good brown darkness. Seats be full, ya children standing thick behind–around. All be in everycolor finery gowns and churching suits, and when they see me, they all kneel. Look like wildflower grass that flatten in wind. Yo, from this thousand, come a sigh. Is like the church itself moan wishful. Can hear a girlish sob among, and mutters of
Maria, Maria
.

Felipe waiting in the forward church. He shaven off his crafty beard, and he gaze naked on me, eyes religiosen weak. Silver robe hang like a mood of passion, fit his love. He beckon hand to me.

Pasha stay back by the door. Ya, I step lonesome through the hall, go forward conscious on bare feet. Skirt brush against the Metros, who still bow their heads unseeing. My sleepiness be gone, and now I feel myself a dirty fear. Can smell the blood on me again; the booze where Pasha try to clean it. Any Maria grace forgot. Be walking like a tired scratcher, come back sick from war.

As I come close, Felipe kneel. I know this ritual now, and I reach out my unhurt hand. He take it, kiss its ring, and rise up easy to his feet. Eyes shine like heavens, and he muttern soft, ‘Tell them, santa reina. About the cure, the Russians.’

‘You ain’t told?’ I whisper weak.

He shake his head with worship looks. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll translate for you.’

Then he turn to the kneeling crowd, rise somehow in his height. Cry up, and his voice sound heroic big, he ring the hall. Is Panish, wrong to comprehend, and I be only thinking desperate, feeling for my needful words. Yo, too soon, he turn to me. His eyes be shining expectations. I take a scary breath and face the crowd.

Speech begin from nothing – Massa woods its happy quiet, finding Pasha in the burning house. I tell about the cure, tell every evidence that drive us to our journey. Gather in passion as I tell about the clausen signing; how I ask apostles for a war against the roos. Yo, my voice come ragged when I tell the search its treachery. How Simón kept ignorant; how Anselm come to kill myself for only knowing what they do.

Ya, turn and turn, Felipe repeat in Panish, like a songly answer. Our voices echo, thin and full, the candles change their light.

Last, I say feroce in need, ‘Can know it be a wrongness to you, that I be Maria. But no one sell my people to their death. Ain’t going to be. And ever I be a stranger, I ain’t leave you from the cure. You all will live, or I ain’t live. I fight by you to my last blood.’

While Felipe repeating this, I gaze out to the spaniels. Their faces now be wondering stark. Is like they witness some impossible change – a moon that speak, a sky that part to show a face. Yo, I feel my heart again. Feel how I come on tired feet from Massa with this message. And in their scary faces, these rich worshipers be like myself; like all bad children callen to a goodness past all hope.

In sudden change, Felipe hush. Raise both his arms like victory.

Then all these Metros leap up to their feet, yell heart’s approval. Shout come exploding huge, then break in differences of voice. Be weeping, ya and laughter. People hug each other wild. Can see some mothers pull their enfants up to stand on stumble feet.

Ya, Felipe gazing at me footless, ravish lost. His face besweaten bright. His eyes be tears. Here I remind uncomfortable, this child
believe that I be god. Magine how he say some prayer insane, and I must answer.

But when he speak, he only say, ‘I’ve got a car waiting, santa reina. We decided it was safest that you come to my house.’

56

FELIPE HIS RELIGIONS

Felipe’s Residencia be a palace huge in white simplesse. Got garden trees around, and lights of Navidad along its brow; is sprucen decorations to its pillars. This night, be any dozen guards around the outside wall. They touch their hats as we pass by. Ya, while we coming up the steps, we hear the guns of our young war, a battering in distance. Shots thicken to a cicada trill of noise, then switch in hush.

Pasha walking by me, and I catch onto his sleeve. A moment, he only watch on me, is like he love my face. Then he say hoarsen, ‘Ice, we safe here.’

I shake my head, let go his arm. Been feeling how these warry murders mine, I ask them into life. But I got no words for this. I only look unhappy to Felipe. He halten tense before us, his silver dress swing into stillness. Say low exhilarate, ‘You know, all Loisaida’s come out for us? Simón Zelote’s with us, he’s got five hundred men out fighting. And all the southern barracks – I heard you sent your guards to raise them, senyora?’

‘Ya,’ I say distracting. ‘Guess I done.’

Felipe shake his head like wondering miracles. ‘It’s really happening.’

Then clack footsteps sound behind the door. A light flash on inside, and tall Felipe shrink somehow. Flinch as the door come open.

*

This problem be Felipe’s wife. Girl be prettieuse as heavens, clad in lily garments complicating pink with lace. Is showing pregnant, and even her pooch belly seem an ornament. Ain’t help but wonder if my El Mayor done love with her.

She lead us in with showing manners. Kiss my ring, do stooping courtesies to Pasha Jesus. Say we must call her by her name, Carola, like this be a gift. She take us to their tree of Navidad, explain its ornaments – and all these be some flatteries on Maria and her Christ.

But in this, her smile discomfort. Ever she look at Pasha, all her face go stiff like tasting mud. Keep skitting eyes toward Felipe, like she ask some needy question. Can guess without no words, she wish we never coming here.

When all emptinesses done, she take Felipe by his hand. Say something low in Panish that make Pasha frown his eyes. Then she–Felipe bicker soft, their voices habit bitter. Once, Felipe grimace to me, but this bring Carola worse. Her voice choke up on threatening tears.

At last, Felipe woof up loud, make stopping gesture with both hands. Carola take her breath, step back. Heely shoe clack loud, is like a stubborn last objection. But she force decency to her face. Say to Pasha thin, ‘My husband wants talk with our lady still. Please, you come with me, I find you a room for sleep. You want some meal?’

‘Sí, gracias,’ say Pasha shy.

Carola beckon her hand and turn with sour glance at Felipe. Roo grimace to me in by-salue. I muttern, ‘Save me food.’

The room Felipe bring me to be prettieuse bizarre. Walls cover entire by jumbo pictures, showing sleeper children easing in a parque woods. They romp on swings and hug each other in some puffety clothes. Room be lacy green with painten trees.

As we come in, Felipe pause. Unbutton his silver robe, and sling it careless on a chair. Beneath, he wear a fashion suit, elegant in
blackness. He tug this straight, sit on a sofa. I sit by with curiose mood. Be woken from my tired, like war bring its own feary morning.

‘Santa reina,’ he say soft, ‘I know this has been a difficult day. But I’ve been wanting to talk to you so badly.’

‘Could talk.’ I shrug. ‘It been receptions.’

‘But what I have to say to you …’ He cross his arms against himself, eyes shining. ‘And now I don’t know how to start.’

‘Shoo, you talking bone.’

‘It’s just, I’ve been praying to you so long. It’s just strange.’

I flinch queery. ‘Sure, your faith.’

‘Oh, I know you don’t believe that. El Mayor told me.’ Felipe smile. ‘I’ve figured out how it must be. Really
only
a true Maria would deny she was a true Maria. If you felt that you were acting for God, you would be eaten up by pride. It would corrupt you. So paradoxically, the fact that you don’t know is a proof that you’re genuine.’

‘Foo,’ I say discomfort. ‘I been God, I going to notice.’

‘No, it’s the spirit that’s in you, that I can see and you can’t – that’s the gift. It’s obvious – only not to you. That’s the essence of your purity.’

Feel some worse discourage. Be like arguing with glue. But I try, ‘Your other Marias, they denying this?’

‘That’s different.’ He make painful face. ‘Our other Marias were completely ordinary people. But the whole process was corrupt. The last Maria had two abortions, I don’t know if you know.’

I fidget nervy at my skirt. Find the patch of blood from my cut hand, gone stiff along the lace. Then I say low, ‘You known the other apostles’ plans? About the search in Massa?’

He flinch, look guilty to the floor. Nod with stricken face.

‘Yo, why you never told me?’ I say. ‘If I being God and so.’

‘Anselm told us that you knew.’ His voice come rough. ‘Of course, I see it now.’

‘Nay, I sent El Mayor to ask you. Why I asking, if I known?’

‘But El Mayor …’ Felipe look up nervy. ‘I didn’t trust him. The
way he appeared and wanted to be my friend … I thought he might be Anselm’s spy. And anyway, Mamadou came right after that. Did you get the message from Ricky?’

‘Been no message, shee. Ain’t even got no Ricky there.’

‘No, he’s mine. He’s …’ Felipe catch his voice, look miserable back to the windows. ‘Of course, you’re right. I should have seen. But you have to understand, it’s how we are here. It’s like we’re all asleep. We grow up, we fall asleep, and then the horrors that scared us before – we’re doing them. We’re the monsters in the nightmare.’ Now tears grown in his eyes. His knitten hands be clenching hard. ‘It took you to wake me, Maria.’