The Country of Ice Cream Star (70 page)

I huff my breath. ‘You saying Pasha kill me? Why?’

Polkovnik sigh. ‘I’m sorry, what I must say is ugly. Maybe he kills
you, when he finishes. Many soldiers do so. Toporov only is the worst. You understand?’

‘Rape?’ I laugh mishearten. ‘I hunt alone with him all weeks. Sleep in a room together. He want to rape me, need no monthen wait.’

‘You fed him? You protected him? Yes, I think. But now, you have very little to give him. One thing.’

‘Nay, you disgusting, all it is. Like talking to a pig disease.’

This he ignore. He shake his head, say soft, ‘Of course, I protect you myself, if I am there. It is my pleasure to do. And I am colonel, it is my power. You know, I am not a perfect man, but I am not Toporov.’

Then my whole blood chill in relief. I laugh out good. ‘Tell every pox on Pasha, so I save your life. It needing this!’

‘Yes, Korolyeva.’ He smile easy. ‘It interests us both that I am living then. It does.’

‘Interest me nothing, child. Ain’t fearing Russians much.’

‘You are so foolish? I don’t think.’

‘Ain’t need you nor Toporov Pasha. I ain’t be here, tomorrow day. I go back to Marias.’

Be lying for simple rudeness, but as I speak, it tempt in mind. Will go back. Sleep my misery with my Sengles, telephone cocktails. All this awful be forgot.

He nod like he expecting this. ‘Good. This is much safer. But you notice, I am asking for my life. So I give you other reason. When this war finishes, if we are both living, I give you medicine.’

I still be dreaming on Marias. Ain’t even thinking of the Polkovnik’s life, or what he trade for this. Take a painful minute before I comprehend his meaning.

Then my heart go agony red. I look by to the moon, lorn in stupidity.

Polkovnik Razin say unheeding, ‘It stops your disease, you understand. I can send you medicine for – what I think – ten people.’

‘Nay,’ I say lost. ‘My city be hundred thousands. Come there with ten cures, what this will be?’

‘It is what I can give. You see, I don’t lie to you. And again, it is my pleasure to do.’

I try to think objections, but my heart run to my Sengles, El Mayor. Ya Mamadou seventeen, can sicken any month. Nor I want Polkovnik Razin dead. Is easy trades.

But my mind grip sudden dark. Realize again, the Quanticos kill whoever they dislike. Can beg, but cannot force them. Be no help.

For a longer minute, I think desperations to this problem. How I cut his handcuffs. Rob the key, wherever it kept. But every plan be old. Consider all this already, any time the Quanticos hurt him worse. Cannot and cannot.

‘Nay, brother,’ I say low. ‘Will ask. But they ain’t going to heed.’

Been gazing past him to the monument, and when I look again, Polkovnik’s face be different strange. First that I seen, his cuts and bruises look like they belong to him. Can see all weeks he living so, in aching cold and torture. How he despair his life these days. How I been his one chance.

I say low in ruth, ‘Why you ain’t told them what they need?’

‘You are an idiot, all the same.’ He narrow on me tired. ‘Dear idiot, I told them what I know, when I first was taken. But it wasn’t what they need. It was the truth. So this must continue until I help them, or I die. But there is no help for them. There are not even happy lies, lies they can believe. There is no help.’

A wind kick up, and draw a sounding flutter through the flags. We both tense while this noise pass like soft gunfire. Then the wind die sudden. Can feel its silence in the grassen distances around.

I say soft, ‘Ya, see this.’

‘Good. Please, no more idiot questions. Instead, I ask a favor.’

‘Favor?’

‘It is not bad, Korolyeva. I really think you will not offend.’ His eyes light in some humor. ‘I only wish, you touch my face.’

I startle into smiling. Ya, he smile back. The creases deepen in his cheeks, his swollen lips go skew. ‘Yes, I am a person,’ he say
mischieviose. ‘It embarrasses you, of course. A person is always an embarrassment.’

I shake my head. ‘Ain’t that. Is only queery.’

We regard each other for a moment, smiling strange. Then I take my hand out of my pocket. Pause in sudden worry, he can bite this hand somehow. But he be still. Look to my face with quiet expectation. And I reach out careful, touch my palm against his cheek.

His face be cold in this dark winter, rough with scrabble beard. Ain’t even feel like skin, is all a harshness. But he lean gentle to my palm. Half shut his eyes, take breath in deep. Then slow, his eyes grow tears.

I almost startle my hand away. But I stop this gesture, hold. Watch how these eyes weep actual water. How he swallow his throat and grit his mouth against his tears.

Then he turn his face quick, kiss against my palm. Lean back away. Say hoarsen, ‘Thank you, Korolyeva.’

I put my hand back in my pocket. It feel peculiar there, is like he left some gift into my palm. ‘Yo, what your crimes been?’ I say soft. ‘Known all Pasha’s awfulness before.’

His tearen eyes catch humor. ‘No, please. I am still hoping you will cry for me.’

‘Foo, ain’t worry that. I cry for any moron thing. It be no flatteries, but I going to cry.’

He laugh. ‘I also. You can see. But I thank your cheap tears, still. And I tell you more. I trade you favor for your touch. Perhaps they will not kill me. It can be only threats, you know. If we are both living tomorrow, I give your medicine.’

‘Bone, be trade,’ I say in reckless mood. ‘If we both living, I come get this medicine.’

‘Yes, come. I will show you our beautiful camp. And I give you medicine for all the world. Toporov can carry it for you. Strong back. Then you work for us, it is no more problems. We eat good suppers together, good conversation. Perhaps we are going to beach.’

Be readying some nonsense answer, when a notion wake. Is
something of my Pasha Vampire, standing from his ditch to see the nuclear dust and fire. How Europeans send this bomb. Thought come like jokes at first, but sharpen to a vally foxerie.

‘But it is serious,’ he say on. ‘I give you what I can. It is a little problem to do. But how I am looking, I can ask many things. I am a wounded hero.’

Then my lying mind be ready. I make sorry eyes. ‘Be gratty for your wish. But truth, it be no chance to live.’

‘No.’ He make a chiding face. ‘I am being happy now.’

‘Nay, heed. Can be, Marines ain’t kill you now. But it be other problems.’

‘What problems? Not to die, I do not mind other problems.’

I look back to the monument and swallow nerviose. ‘Sure you know, your Russians ain’t the only people with all science.’

His face puzzle slightish. ‘It is a big world, yes. But how is this important now?’

I shrug. ‘You know. Is Europe.’

‘Korolyeva,’ he say in pity voice, ‘I think this is Toporov’s lies. This is the Europeans will save you? They come from sky like heroes? No, I know this lie.’

‘Foo, what they say–’ I catch my voice. Make face of caution nerves.

‘Who says?’ His voice come soft polite.

I keep frowning, thinking hasty, how this got to sound. But, before I start, he say, ‘Europe is a nice place. Rich, safe – it is wonderful place. But they have no interest in you. You think, because their skin is black, they care for you? You are again an idiot.’

I scoff my breath. ‘Can be, they never care for us. But they hate you enough.’

‘Korolyeva, I am tired for riddles. There are Europeans?’

‘Sure, they in Marias now.’ I fish another cigarette, light this with showing nerves.

Polkovnik laugh up sudden, ‘You are saying, they give you help already? Korolyeva, you are a bad liar.’

‘Nay, Polkovnik,’ I say sarcasty. ‘Quanticos been making nuclear weapons all themself.’ I suck my cigarette and spit out smoke, heed to his heavy silence. Then I go on, with sounding anger, ‘Sure, Europeans want this quiet. But I ain’t caring for their secrets now, no sho. Be late for this.’

When I look to him, his face be strange in pondering. He say, ‘I understand. You let me live, and I tell my people Europeans gave you nuclear bombs. What Marines threaten, it is always true. So we must run away, or it is nuclear bomb. I understand?’

‘Ya, tell. Be gratty that you live. But I ain’t guess your morons heed. Must die before you trust.’

He narrow on me with some pleasure in his beaten face. Eyes lost their loving stickiness, is clear with interesting mind.

At last, his face break into humor. ‘Korolyeva, I will tell you the most true thing. I am not interested if your story is lies. It is a good story, and I will tell it. And also, I will send you medicine. A girl like you must live.’

‘Must interest you,’ I say nervy, ‘if you all be kilt.’

‘My interest is not necessary, please. It is our rules to tell such stories. It is intelligence, you know. And this – someone will listen. Yes, it is a very wonderful story.’

I narrow on his ruin face, but cannot feel no certainty. Try thinking how I better my lie. But what I known of Europe, nuclears, mostly be an ignorance.

At last, I only say, ‘If it come wrong, I cry for you. Swear this.’

‘No, you will not have to cry.’ He smile into my eyes a moment, then nod toward the White House. ‘Now you will go and ask my life, I think. Before it is late.’

70

OF OUR LAST DESPERATIONS

I find the generals where I most expect, in Commandant’s West Wing office. Be grandy room of eggen shape with yellow-stripen walls. Got two standing flags – one stripy flag for old America, and reddish sort for their Marines. In middy room, two sofas face each other, long in yellow cloth.

Now, to these sofas, Commandant–Hatter–Verna sprawling loose. They dirty in exhaustion. Wear sweaten undershirts and muddy dapple pants, sock feet. Be Patricia also, sitting sloppy on the floor. She got one arm in stiffen cast, and one pants leg roll up to show a chubby bandage on her shin.

Room stank of feet and booze, and they all fisher drunk, with woozy eyes. Floor be a scatter of boots and guns and bottles. By Patricia be a crutch, akimbo over muddle coats. Strangest be to see their Verna Snakehead lying on a sofa, one leg spraddlen on its back.

When I come in, they startle wary. But when they see me clear, they change again and break in laughter. Hatter clout the Commandant on his shoulder, say, ‘You cheated somehow. We all know you cheat.’ The Commandant swat tardy at his hand, be laughing silly.

Patricia get her breath and call to me, ‘Ma’am, sorry. We had a little bet when you was coming. And if – what you wearing.’ Then she catch ridiculous again, grin while she say, ‘Don’t know why it’s funny, ma’am. I don’t.’

‘She’s no ma’am anymore,’ say Hatter. ‘She’s a – whatever Russian ma’am is.’

‘She’s a Russian’s fuckdog, like us all,’ say Verna, choking laughter.

‘Mouth, yow. Thass disgusting.’ Hatter slap at Verna’s foot.

Patricia grimace pologetic. ‘Don’t need to mind what we all saying, ma’am. We’re experiencing despair, see.’

‘Yeah, you got to despair,’ say Hatter. ‘Or you got to leave.’

I scout around their faces, wondering. ‘Damn, you drunk as something.’

‘Razor
sharp eye on that girl,’ Hatter say. ‘Need some kind of certificate, that.’

‘Foo,’ I say, ‘I only come to ask – you trading back they prisoners?’

They all go groaning various. Be a flutter of hands, grab for their booze. Verna muttern, ‘Fuck your prisoners. Jesus Fuckdog Christ.’

‘You can leave that language, please.’ The Commandant nod toward me. ‘Lady wants to know what’s happening.’

‘Okay!’ Hatter stand up to his feet and brandish his bottle round. ‘Commandant is always right, so I want to tell the lady the war news – finishing with her Russian prisoners, who is so dear to all our hearts. So, first triumph, we only lost
most
of Arlington. Didden lose every inch at once. We’re specially proud of that. Second triumph, we lost most of our artillery – now thass key for morale if you wanted to die. Meanwhile, we reaped so many enemy casualties, it is irregardless they killed more of us. Saying, three times more?’

‘Oh, shut up,’ Verna say.

‘I hear four times. Four times more. You see your typical Marine of the new age there.’ He point his bottle to Patricia. ‘Half-cast, half-man. And your people fought real bravely, ma’am, for about ten minutes. Up until they remembered how to run, they fought like lions. But, the good news is, this is the good news. We get to give the Russians back their prisoners, without getting any of ours.’ He make a puken face, sit down. ‘Thass where I started drinking, there. That conversation with the Russian general. I needed some disinfectant post that.’

‘Shoo,’ I say. ‘So what you trade for?’

‘We’re taking the little kids out,’ say Patricia flat. ‘Get a ceasefire up till midnight, and we get the kids out safe. Your folks are taking them in up north. Necessary precautions.’

‘Expecting you go also, ma’am.’ The Commandant turn sad eyes to me. ‘Iss a good long walk in those tunnels, but anybody show you. Go whenever you like.’

I nod uncertain. ‘Can be right. But heed, I had a notion. What it is, I guess it ain’t no nuclear weapons? Truth?’

Here all look to the Commandant. He be swallowing booze, break into coughing as we watch. Swallow hard at this and rub impatient at his throat. ‘No, ma’am,’ he say hoarse. ‘There certainly is not.’

‘Wouldn’t help much, if they was,’ Patricia say. ‘Be incinerating ourselves about now.’

‘Nay, is right,’ I say. ‘Been fear you need.’

‘Yeah, that didn’t all occur,’ say Hatter. ‘The fear part.’

I nod. ‘Think I can bring this fear.’

I start to tell them hasty what I learn of Europeans. How I fit this to their nuclear lie for the Polkovnik’s ears, and he sworn to tell this story onward, sans no question. Generals heed me frowning, strain to figure through their booze. But soon they nodding, warmer kept.

When I finish, the Commandant say, ‘You’re certain he believed you, ma’am?’

‘Ain’t swearing that. But he will tell. It give them doubt, the least it do.’

‘They’ll wonder why we hadden blown them up already,’ say Patricia.