The Country of Ice Cream Star (72 page)

‘Ho,’ I say at last. ‘How you known you need her on that Massa search? For they enfants. Always wondern this.’

Now he get defensive looks. ‘Ain’t known that. How I known?’

‘Yo, why you bring her then?’

First, I expect he never answer. Will give some talk on mouthy females, got no brains to hush.

But he say low-voice and rough, ‘She been my only person, why. Others all been dead.’

This catch me in surprise. ‘Of Armies?’

He shrug. ‘How it is.’

A moment, I be only puzzling, watching on his face. Think to
mention Crow – but Crow ain’t Army right. Be Sengle. Yo, of anything, I never guess this been some freak of sorrow. But sure, if only Keepers been alive of all my people, I ain’t leave her from my sight.

I put my hand up to his cheek. He flinch, but allow this gentleness.

And I say soft, ‘Thought I been yours.’

Expect he mock, but he look to me seriose and glad. ‘Ya,’ he say quiet. ‘And be yourself.’

72

THE FLIGHT FROM ARLINGTON

Be some sorry time while we both dress, he gather up his kit. He checking magazines and fix them in convenient pockets. I keep hush – ain’t want him to distract from carefulness. But penals start to noise outside, ain’t worrying this question. Try the door against the bolt, knock rude.

Yo, when I stepping from this room, they startle like no mice. Take a thinking minute before they know me. Stoop their courtesy. Then every child look to the NewKing shy in gratulation. Mouths working strange, how they attempt to eat their foolish grins.

Mamadou ignore these shows. Go yelling most like Hatter done, the day I fight at Buckethead. Soon be penals running out and in and all directions. Even Crow go by. He stumble at my sight, then call a feary salue and scatter out. Mamadou never look to me, but keep one hand upon my elbow. Hold jalouse like love – but then he loose me with no difference. Yell instructions while I miss his hand.

Yo, before I guess, the NewKing stalking to the outside field. Give one backward look, too quick for no expression seen. Then can only hear his voice, go good feroce into the night.

I still be gazing footless when First Runner appear, led by a bigger penal I ain’t know. She lost her neatly looks in these hard weeks, is skinny and unwash. Her face bewept and furiose.

Penal stoop his courtesy to me, say muttern Panish. Then he tell
First Runner, ‘Look at that. Maria’s here to take you. Look at that.’

First Runner narrow to me resenting. Say in stuffy voice, ‘Been with the NewKing?’

‘Sure,’ I say. ‘He said I take you, child.’

‘He slept?’

This touch me sharp. But I lie, ‘He resting bone, yo sho.’

Penal loose her hand. First Runner come to me in duty manner. But her eyes keep peevish and when she come up close, she muttern, ‘Ain’t want you.’

Penal shake his head and give me pology smile. ‘Senyora, you best go. She don’t know how to walk the streets, so you got to allow for that.’

‘Foo. How she got in here?’

He make a face. ‘Marines.’

I laugh soft. ‘They bring her?’

‘Yeah, she’s a smart kid.’ He look to her. ‘You told them a couple of lies, didn’t you?’

‘Ain’t lies,’ First Runner say. ‘Thought he will want me.’

‘You see him by,’ I say. ‘When he come back.’

Then she only nod, face closen to its private hurt.

How she ain’t know the maze, we head to Pentagon tunnel by the trenches. First minutes, these be crowden wild. Be dodging backward–forward through Marines who swear impatient; edging past artillery guns and heapen ammonitions. But soon we go beyond these preparations into lonely place. Walk in the trenchen darkness, and be like we treading underwater in some nighten river, see the light suspending soft above. First Runner go ahead – I keep her in sight, against no last escapes. Ya, she walk stooping, in betrayals of her smallish heart.

My dooms of earlier night be by. Now I be lost in fantasies, of how my lie on nuclears work. The Russians leaving now, without no harm. The war be done. Moon show middy night – this ain’t exact, but cannot be much less – and been no incident. Yo, as we
walking farther, every sound be gone but our own feet. Silence be uncanny in its sweetness, like a singing note.

I magine how the roos depart. Ya, Polkovnik sending me the cure, like promise word. Cures be only ten, but if we living every years, be chances to discover more. We find some way to Europe. Buy this cure by bellious Africans. Can even be a gift from better roos.

I live beyond, and Mamadou live beyond. We flee Marias City. Ya, how Armies gone, no child think mally to our love. He get a baby with me – belly device be gone somehow, I getting enfants every year like seasons. We live, can see these enfants grow. Will be like Russian parents, caring for their every want.

And I watch First Runner small and vally, how she pace the night. Magine her our enfant grown, and luck her in my mind.

We come beneath Pike overpass, gone in its blacker shadows, when First Runner halt her step. Look perilous to me, then turn her eyes back to the night.

‘Roos be there?’ she say.

She looking north, and without thought, I shake my head, point to the west. She round to this, say scary, ‘Near?’

Truth, ain’t know how close they lurk, what ground we lost this day. But I say like confidence, ‘Ain’t near. Can be a mile.’

‘We leave before they come?’

‘Shoo,’ I say in forcen cheer. ‘I thought you come to war, my ten.’

Then she lose her face entire. Break in sobbing tears and say, ‘Other time, he want me. I ain’t known. Ain’t need to rid me like that.’

I put hands on her small shoulders, start in calming talk. Say how I prefer to fight myself, but been no help. How any child respect her bravery. Ya, and Mamadou do. But be instructions also. Sure she know.

Through this, I heed the quiet night. Feel how the time go long, and nothing be.

Last I say, ‘He love you like himself. You be his people, child.’

She snuff her nose. ‘I know.’

‘I going to bring you safe. Why he given you to me. He never done, if it ain’t right.’

Then she nod reluctant. Rub her nose and look back to the west. Yo, as I look along, a heavy beat sound toward the river. We both flinch back. A blink behind, it shiver underfoot.

It beat again, and beat. The sky flash gentle, weirden blue. This flash repeat in trembling, then it fickle everywhere, while gunfire jitter and spread its noise across the broad horizon.

‘What it is?’ First Runner say in breaking voice.

‘Shee, we late. Keep forward. Go!’

Her enfant manners pass like blinking. She break in run, yo I run gratty on her sprinting heels. We flee simple from the war.

The beating–jittering grow, and now the ripping skree of planes begin. Sky keep shivering wrong. Yo, as we pass the Pentagon, a light dart angry in its ruins. Flash and spit there. Loose a huff of blackish smoke above.

Then everywhere ahead, be flashing, pounding, gusting dirt. My ears be screaming, and the wind keep hitting hot and wrong. First Runner lose her sprint. Jump to a wall and hold there, crouching strange. I hunker to her, touch her shoulder. She hit my hand away, turn yelling, as the overpass explode behind.

We both knock scattering to the ground. Air shove wrong in my lungs, my ears, can feel it press at my shut eyes. Dirt sting my face, and I go sneeze. Then I be blinking, scrambling free. First Runner there, is whole. Stare panic to me, while dirt still spatter down on her shock face.

I yell,
Come on!
, but hear no voice, hear nothing. Ears be dumb. Nor First Runner heard. I grab her hand in brainless fright. Pull her to her feet, and stagger on into the flashing silence. Be thinking only of the tunnel. We getting underground, and all be right. Can still be right.

But when we come to our next turn, the trench be full with rubble earth. Ahead, the tunnel gone. A scrap of Pentagon sit huge
upon its missing place. Sky be bleary above with dust. Moon glown peculiar red.

And all I know, next tunnel we can reach be to the west. Roos will hold the trenches there. Ain’t safe to use these now. Must crawl between, on open ground.

My ears be full with weirdo ringing. Hear bombs again, but only as weaker thumps, like littlish foot. To this, the earth be shaking restless, like it dance its nerves. First Runner tugging at my arm, ain’t comprehend why we ain’t run.

I yell, big as I can, ‘We got to crawl above! You heed?’

She say something back, deaf in my hearing. I shake my head and move her hand. Fasten this to my leg. Hold till she take the pants cloth in her grip. Her eyes stare terrify at nothing, but when I start to crawl onto the rubble, she come right. Clutch to my pants and pick her way.

Then the pounding only lengthen through all helpless minutes. Be crawling knees and elbows, bellying down to close explosions. Can feel First Runner yanking on my leg in terrify jolt. Air thicken with sprawling dust, with smoke; moon vanish in this pall. Come to the land-mine patterns, and be miseries to find their shape. Must squint through tears, eyes stinging. And come a new explosion, and it flash, ring sickening through my guts. Keep thinking it must quit, ain’t bombs enough. But it keep on, while I pick at the ground, clear snow with numbing fingers. Scout the land for walking roos. Scout for my right direction.

At last, through clogging smoke, can see a blacker cliff that rise ahead. It be the Henry Overpass. Cannot see who lurk beneath. But beyond its danger, land be thick with standing evacs. Is trees to hide and bushes, every wonderful object for our help. Then be three minutes’ walking to the tunnel. Be no distance.

Once this relief become, I realize we crept beyond the bombs. Sky only flash behind in distance. This hit me with elation like a pain. Ain’t even think of life, I only madden that we can leave this place. Be somewhere without terror. And I crawl faster, feeling a
strength, how everything be done correct. First Runner’s hand still clutch my leg. We living, can be right.

Come to the overpass along its side, in scrabble bush. Yo, as we near its opening, I halt. Check to First Runner. Her face be panics, she stare blank. Try gesture explanations, how she stay while I go forward. But she only clench, eyes tearing. At last, I push her from me. Hold her down until she keep there. She weeping, trembling through herself. Yo, then I recognize, we stoppen on a patch of bones. She cringing all her arms, lie on these bones but hate to touch.

Ain’t time to worry this. I crawl ahead. Check backward and she still be there, a hand press to her face. And I go careful on, try to beware my noise without no ears. Come sideward to the overpass tunnel, cautieuse in shadow.

And when I come along its concree side, peer in the spreading tunnel, be three rooish soldiers there.

They watch the flashing sky, like this be festival display. Smoke cigarettes, and talk beyond my deafness. Laugh their mouths.

First instant, I grip to Kalash. My nerves be mad to shoot, to rid them. But I hold myself. Feel down Kalash with sweating hand. Check her switch. I crave her every-bullet setting – will shoot them any hundred times. But I only got one magazine, can be no waste. I put her to three-bullet, bring her slow and slow to her right pose. Creep, elbowing, until I peer direct into this tunnel. Roos show clear against the farther light, and I rest my gun solid on a scrap of broken road. They never notice, never look. All their attention be the farther trenches, ya the bombing sky.

I find my aim. Breathe short with terror, feel the earth that chill my belly. Yo, as I stare, one roo step by, reach to his pants. Undo these with particular motions. Turn himself to piss.

Then my heart leap queery. I sight upon a different soldier, who ware outward, gun in hands. Before I can think anything, I shoot.

First child be hit and hit and hit – Kalash’s sweet three bullets. I
gasp exhilarate as the roo beside him wheel. His gun stare all directions. I shoot again. Miss awful, and he turn straight to my rifle flash. Shoot when I also shoot. And he be hit, go cringing. Lift his gun again, and I feel how my voice cry out in anger. But before I shoot again, he fall. Slip from the light.

And be a second when I only want the final roo to vanish. Cannot bear no more, cannot. But he turn from pissing pose and grab his rifle also. Pants gone clumsy round his legs, but he shooting toward. Is panicking–shooting, pitching huffs in earth around my face.

It take four tries to down this roo. Be a hopeless always, while his bullets seek me, blast the dirt. I miss and miss again. He ducking to the wall, lose out of sight. I shoot the air. Be breathing rage that he ain’t die. Must die, he need to know.

When at last I hit him, all my brains be gone in rage. I stagger to my feet. Run stupid to they roos – and one come sitting, clench his gun. I shoot him again, in chest, in face. Go round to shoot another roo again. Ain’t trust they dead. But all my bullets gone. I standing helpless, terrify, in my sweat.

Roos be still. The sky flash silent, framen in the overpass. Smoke drift black across the wester sky.

Be an evil second when I cannot think. All plans be nothing. A roo lain with no face, his yellow hair still whole. Is Pasha. But it ain’t. It ain’t. And cannot hold for this, ain’t time.

Then my mind come back like pain returning to a frozen hand.

I duck to a blooden roo. Seek his clothes until I find a rifle magazine. Try this to Kalash, and it be right. I seek his pockets more. Find another, then I need to turn away to puke. But nothing come, ain’t eaten. I only choke my gut, and spit, and hate this wasten time.

When I got three magazines, I stalk back where the overpass be open into violent sky. Ain’t see First Runner nowhere, but I got no panics left. I only yell my lungs until I see a stirring in pattern snow. Eye find her there as she raise up her head.

I wave her to. Wave again–again, while she still stare and cringe
her arms. At last, she start to crawl – when I remember, she ain’t know her path. Be land mines still.

Yo, First Runner jump up sudden. She sprinting toward with all her legs, while I scream desperate that she stop. Wave arms. Then I recognize the kicks of dirts around, the gunfire.