The Country of Ice Cream Star

by Sandra Newman

  Doors come open to the empty hall. Only a moth be flickering at a dandelion light above. Can hear male voices from the entrance hall, in Panish talk. Ya be strangers, all these voices strange.

  I go out precarious, clutching hands into my skirt. Ankles be unstrong with fright, must concentrate to walk correct. And as I come out to the hall, all soldiers round on me.

  Be mostly fifty soldiers there. I balk my step, feel like my blood depart in flying dizziness. Need to run, to crouch behind some object, but I hold. I only make a throaten yelp as they all turn their guns.

  A dozen soldiers run toward. Bigly child with stubble face get to me first. He grinning like some hate insanity. Aim his rifle in shooting posture, straight into my eyes.

  A second, I be dead in mind. My body terrify to nothing, like it turn to absent water. Above this, I be thinking, Nay, must be some way to live. Then the child loose down his rifle, laugh in gloating voice. Another soldier grab my arm.

  Be a sickness moment when I know them for Inúds. Can see it from their mustache face, their looks of wealthy feeding. Yo, they mostly wearing scarves of eagle flag like Lopez. Be Pedro’s men. Know this, and I wince eyes from them. Is like their looks be poison self.

  Only then I notice Pasha by the doors, with soldiers round. I lose my panic then, twist my arm free. Say high, ‘Ain’t need that.’

  Inúds raise up their guns. But when I walk toward Pasha, they only follow, waring rifles.

  I go to him with every madness noisy in my head. Feel everything be right, once I can only be by Pasha. They kill us, but I lose my terror. Death be safe in comfort – and I walk to him on feet like cotton, feet without no blood. Yo, Pasha watch me come like I be everything he fearing worst. Got marks of beating on his face – blood in his corner-mouth and reddish scuffing on his temple. His eyes be senseless bright.

  When I get near, he reach to me. Then I go smiling terrify, and take his hand in mine. Some child say annoying Panish, but they never hinder.

  And I say to Pasha, in my slow rooish, Why you ain’t hid? Should hide.

  First he stare on me unheeding, trancen with his grief. Then he say, How I can hide?

  Go to Lowells. How we said.

  His hand tense in mine. Without yourself? Lowells never take me.

  Sure they done.

  They risk themself for me?

  I look to his bluish eyes, and this go desolate through my blood. Forget my rooish, and I whisper, ‘Be sorry. I ain’t thought.’

  Then his eyes soften weak. He muttern, ‘Nay. Ain’t never left you, truth.’

  Now come some Panish shouts behind. Our closer soldiers push at Pasha, point us to the doors. Another soldier open, and the wind come freezing in. Pasha loose my hand, and we go through, all soldiers shoving round. Come out to honest cold. The Cember wind grip in my flesh.

  On the upper step, Inúds all halt in gathering. Me–Pasha caught among. Some child nose his gun into my arm, most like he seek attention. But when I look to him, he staring pointless at my breasts. I cross my arms. Dread risen stiff and bright along my sweaten nape.

  Then a groaning start along the street. Is cars in haste approach – and for a breath insane, I think these cars be help. Be friendly soldiers, callen by my guards or be Simón somehow, with Loisaidas for our rescue.

  But Inúds look toward the noise like normal expectations. Ya, three cars come driving in. All blue the same, with Barrio de Inúd writ on their paint. They slow up to the step.

  Two soldiers trot down to the first car. Open its hinder door, and in its seat, can see a child in shadow. Their hands go in to catch him, and he move like cringing, skree complaint. But they grabbing at his arms, they haul and struggle him out. He fall on knees in snow, and be a roo.

  Roo be barefoot, and even in darkness light, can see these feet be wrong. Is purplish, and they swollen big like shoes. As the soldiers drag him to the steps, he keep on handsen-knees. Strain anyhow to hold these feet above the hurting ground. While he fight, he looking wild around for any help. Yo, his eyes find Pasha. He rear and scream his voice in beggary.

  Pasha only stare to this. The other roo start struggling, screaming, catching at the steps. A soldier point a gun into his face, and he flinch back annoying. Cry in peevish voice, Brother! What they want with me?

  Now Pasha seem to wake. Gather himself in breath and yell, Fight how you can! They kill you!

  A soldier beside us turn his rifle. Swing it rough and club my Pasha in the head with its thick stock. Pasha hunch, grab to his head with nuisance face. The other roo swear high.

  Soldiers by the other roo now grab him by the arms. Go dragging him up the steps on knees and belly. He fight backward with his weight. Can hear his yelping breath. Yo, Pasha watch, one hand still touching to his injure head. Ain’t show no feeling, he only stare attentions. But when the soldiers drag the roo into the Ministerio doors, Pasha’s face go soft in hurt. He look to me and say, ‘Now they can kill you.’

  It take a puzzle breath before I comprehend his meaning. Then I laugh surprising, weak. ‘Ya, be a Christ. Can see.’

  Pasha make impatient face and look back to the cars. I want to say some vally joke, how they be morons neverless. Kill every person here, and still they fuss to make a new Maria. But cannot think no words to this. Is only skew insanities, how God survive when we all kilt. How any person worship gods, when gods ain’t even brave to die.

  Then sudden, the soldiers shove us forward. The clubbing soldier point his rifle close to Pasha’s head, so it keep nosing in his hair as we go down the steps. They bring us to the roo’s car, and Pasha duck inside before they ask. His whole body be disgust now, like he hate this imbecile work. I creep in behind, and scare peculiar when the seat be warm. Look back, flinching to a touch, and find a fifteenish soldier tucking my long skirt inside. He startle back with pology face. Say whispern, ‘Lo siento.’ Another hand go slam the door.

  Car got a wiren barrier between the forward and the hinder seats. Nor it got no inside handles. Be like the car that brought us to Marias first. A simple trap.

  As I notice this, the driver open up his door. Stand out from the car, and walk back toward the cars behind.

  Then Pasha touch my arm. Say whispern, ‘Ice, can need your diamonds.’

  ‘Ho, think the driver trade for this?’

  He shake his head with obvious face and gesture to the car’s back window. ‘Can break.’

  I sigh preciation. Work the jewlerie hasty open, pull it tugging from my throat. Then Pasha wrap the diamond string against his knuckles. Put this diamond fist in pocket, then look back to me. ‘Can be, we jump out while they drive.’

  I nod and reach down to my feet. Pasha watch this doubtful until I unhook my first heely shoe, show it to him.

  ‘Hurt you,’ he say soft. ‘Bare feet.’

  ‘Be Sengle feet. They tough.’

  Then he stiffen somehow, staring to the window over me. I look up scary, and find Anselm standing by the car.

  He talking Panish with our driver. Got a carboard cup in hand, and as I watch, he sip from this. Look jittery, and his other hand keep rubbing at his shaven head. His pointy eyes glance to me and pass on, while he still talking.

  At last, the driver nod. Come climb back in the car, clap his door shut.

  Then Anselm turn, look to me straight. Through the dirty window, his chub face be tired resenting. He call, voice dim behind the glass, ‘I wanted to save you, santa reina. I was trying.’

  Then all my terrors break in rage. I scream, ‘Ain’t want your saving, filth! How many people need to die so your unwanten life continue? Nobody want you living! You an unwant cockroach! Cockroach!’

  While I be yelling, Anselm turn himself with tensen body. Walk to the car behind and climb inside. Slam its door loud.

  Then I sit back in breathing misery. Pasha got his worry face. Ya, the driver laughing to himself, look at me in his mirror. I call to him in trembling voice, ‘Ho, where you taking us?’

  The driv
er only lose his smile. Reach forward and he start the car. I scoff, bend down to rid my other shoe. Yo, as I get it free, the car hitch forward. I sit up, look back scary where the Ministerio swerve away. Its lights pass off behind and start to lose behind the parque trees.

  Among these trees, I see, in sudden tininess, Tamara. Is walking seriose, alone beneath the bosky shadows. My heart go strange to this. I look back to my Pasha, where he sitting tense.

  He whispern, ‘Going northward. Metro, can be.’

  ‘Prison there.’ I whispern. ‘Where they killing us, can guess.’

  ‘Ya,’ Pasha say distracten. He raise a shushing finger, look back to the following cars. I look back self, and spy my Anselm in the car behind. He in the forward seat, but got his body twisten back. Is arguing something, wave one arm. His cup held stiff apart. Then we pass beneath a light, and everything erase in glare.

  Pasha bring out his diamond fist. He muttern rooish, We go in the woods. Can hide, then see.

  I nod and turn to brace myself. Look anxy to the passing street, how it slip fast behind.

  Then the driver shout. The car pitch violent, squealing noise. Quick as punching, Pasha–me thrown into the wiren barrier. My breath chuck out, and I fling back again into the bouncy seat. Pasha fall on my wrist somehow, and I gasp rough with pain.

  Car rock back, and all be still. I lain half on the seat, can only see my Pasha waring. His mouth be dripping blood again.

  Then the gunshots start.

  I cringe down. Yell Pasha’s name, ain’t got no knowledge why. He duck, then rise again. Punch heavy to the backward window. His fist skeer off, ain’t even make much sound. But he gather and punch again. The window changen crazy. It hold a second, webben white, then fall in shatters down. I squinch my eyes as glass wash tickling down my face. The gunfire risen sharp, like loud complaint against this wreck.

  I look back panicking, blinking glass, and find the wiren barrier got a glossy wet upon. Is red in streetlight, it be blood. Got time to only notice the driver’s skewen head, his face be wrong, then Pasha pull me back. He yelling, ‘Ice! You follow! Now!’

  ‘Ya, I know!’ I say in brainless fury. ‘Yes!’

  Then he go barging all his force back through the shattern window. I take a scary breath and climb out after, clumsy in my skirts. Lace catch somewhere as I land my hand down on some spearing glass. Yo, I keep scrambling on its sticking pain, I tear my skirt, be free. A soldier running past, and as he look to me, a gunshot louden. He snag in air, pitch forward.

  And I pitch forward, knowing awful, this been someone shot. I slip down from the car’s hind end, land soft on Pasha’s back. He grab me rough, be hissing rooish. Push me, until I comprehend and crawl beneath the carren belly.

  Expect he follow, but he leap away. His shadow vanish. I lie into the slushen grit, behind a wheel its scaly flank. My breath come fast in bursts, I peer out to the glistening street. Be craving to know what guns these be, to spy some face I know. That Julio–Bean be there. Simón.

  First, all I seeing be the soldier shot. He curling, still alive, around his hurt. Seize and stretch and seize, like worm that struggle on a hook. A gunshot ring against the car, and all its metal wince. I flatten myself harder, fist my hand unthinking on that glass. Pain recognize in distance, but then some feet go running past, and it be Pasha’s churching shoes. I creep forward, till my face press to the rubber wheel its dirt. Try seeing where he gone. The snowy wheel be wet against my cheek.

  Then a body fling down on the road. Is Anselm, scrabbling on his back. Feet seem tanglen in his long brown skirts, his throat be blood. His face be inches from my face, and in this brainless second, I take breath to call to him that he crawl under with myself. But then a soldier’s feet run in. One boot come down on Anselm’s chest, ya Anselm grab its ankle weak. A rifle nose slip into sight, and shoot in Anselm’s face three times. Blood fly warm into my eyes, wet chunks hit stinging at my brow. Be squinting blind against, is only unbelief in me. My mind keep saying loud that this ain’t been.

  Then someone grab my foot. I kick in panic, yelping breath. And Pasha yell behind, ‘Come! Ice!’

  I scrape around in panic, bang my shoulders to the carren belly. Skirt lace catch again and rip again with gratty ease. I fling into the scary open, where my Pasha wait in crouch. Got rifle now, and both his hands is dark, is red. He wave forward, and I leap with him, run quick on hurting pebbles. Be steep exhilaration now to run, to flee like I been needing. But Pasha pull me sudden back. I come stumbling, swearing. He push me at an open car door.

  I yank resisting, but he force me harder, yelling rooish. I dive in, swearing madness, and he push in big behind. Slam up the door, grab me again. I struggle thoughtless as he force me to the carren floor. Flatten himself above me, and the car begin to move.

  First moments of this journey, I be only trembling, breathing tears. Ain’t even sob correct. Only be a shivering through myself, and breathing out in wet. Keep rubbing at my face, think how these tears wash Anselm’s blood away. I find some glass left on my cheek, and flick it from me panicking, like it be a piece of death on me. In my mind, I see how Anselm lain. How he grab the soldier’s boot like beggary. The gun come down. It flash and flash. Be trying to think of justice, how he taking us to kill. But nothing righten in my mind. Any evils Anselm done, they been enough. Ain’t want more evils. I only crave the hour before, when no killings been.

  At last, I notice Pasha stroking on my shoulder. I swallow at my throat, and open eyes. See the floor its dust, a flatten cigarette end there. My diamond braid hang by. Still got a speck of glass among the hair, shine brighter than its gems.

  Then Pasha say low, ‘Ice, you hurt?’

  Take a breath, and I surprise when my voice come like normal. ‘Nay. You hurt?’

  ‘Nay. Ain’t need to frighten now. We bone.’

  ‘Ain’t frighten.’ I swallow at my throat, say weak, ‘You crushing me.’

  He ease his weight away, push up to lie along the seat. I turn myself, look wary up. Car got one shattern window. Glass remain in jags, crush into sparkle toward its hole. From here, the wind come mean on my wet face. I clutch against myself and say in whisper, ‘Who they be?’

  ‘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 foo
tless. ‘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?’