The Country of Ice Cream Star

by Sandra Newman

  I light my cigarette with showing carelessness. ‘Took from where? I guess you heard this also.’

  ‘They said Massachusetts. Yes?’

  ‘Sure,’ I say. ‘We catch him there, ya been another Russian we kilt.’

  ‘Yes.’ He smile some knowing mischief. ‘You didn’t like him so much?’

  ‘Ain’t like no Russians in Massa.’

  He laugh. ‘But Pasha Toporov, this you like.’

  ‘Shee, ain’t necessary I kill all children I ain’t like. See Kirill living there.’

  ‘Of course, Korolyeva. But no one kills Pasha Toporov.’

  Can feel his poison start to come. I draw some smoke and hold it hungry, looking to the winter grass, its shab and mudden baldness. Get a chilly memory of the injure soldiers on the bridge.

  ‘Vampire,’ say the Polkovnik soft. ‘What we call him.’

  I shrug unliking. ‘Ya, he told this.’

  ‘Of course, he tells his wife. Secrets of the bed.’

  ‘Foo. Can be, they told you Maria do no sex. Ain’t normal wives.’

  He laugh bright at this, say something rooish I ain’t comprehend. I frown to him, and he take breath. ‘I’m sorry, Korolyeva. It’s only difficult to believe. The man I knew, he wasn’t so respecting.’

  ‘Pasha got other girls he doing with. Ain’t mysteries this.’

  ‘But he left you pure. I understand.’

  ‘This be your talk? I want some filth, got Kirill.’

  ‘No, listen.’ He shake his head, eyes easing soft. ‘I die in the morning. It is no reason I keep secrets now. And I think you need advice, since Toporov is going to live. The vampire always lives.’

  Want to give him nay, but this word secrets catch into my need. I swallow soft and say, ‘Sure, be advice. Ain’t caviling this.’

  Polkovnik nod like courtesy. ‘So, first, it is a question. Your city, it fights here for nothing. It is a difficult problem for me, I cannot understand. But when I learn Toporov is there, it is now very easy. So I ask you, Korolyeva, it is Toporov gives this plan?’

  I sour my face. ‘Heard no advice.’

  ‘You don’t like to discuss.’ He smile. ‘But please, I tell you, the Russians are very happy with this plan. It is difficult to take a city, you know. Very difficult war like this. So Toporov thinks, he brings what the Russians want. The soldiers only. Your soldiers come to open land, they catch very easy here. Also it does not need two wars, it saves much work. And then your city is left. No soldiers there, we walk in like our home. It is wonderful like big gift.’

  ‘But my soldiers rid your Russians,’ I say thin. ‘Forgotten this.’

  ‘It is brave to say, Korolyeva. Only, it is sad to be not true. But I will tell Toporov’s story. It is very necessary for you, I think.’ He sit back to his pole, with face of easy satisfaction. ‘First, he is from Volgograd. Perhaps he told you?’

  ‘Sure,’ I lie. ‘He told.’

  ‘But Volgograd says nothing to you?’

  ‘Been to no Russia, nay.’

  ‘We start with history lesson, so.’ Polkovnik nod with smilen eyes. ‘History, my Korolyeva. Our Russia fought two wars with Europe. The second war was foolish and small. It is not important for us. But the first was serious war. We thought then, we take Europe. It is not a big army there. But rich. It is wonderful war, everyone is thinking.

  ‘For few months, we win. The Europeans are afraid. They threaten they will fight with nuclear missiles. But we did not believe, because we win very well, and it is no nuclear missiles. We believe they cannot reach us with this, if they have. It is not so easy to do.

  ‘So they make demonstration. They bomb three cities. Chelyabinsk, Tula, Volgograd. It is not large cities, you see, it is more compassionate. Only two hundred thousand people die.’ He give his pleasuring smile, make all his injuries seem like harmless paint. ‘You understand nuclear bombs? I think, Marines don’t understand this much.’

  ‘Know somewhat.’

  ‘So you will know. These cities are gone. Toporov was fourteen. This day, he is in the forest alone. Walk on a small river, it is hills both sides. All this – fire, wind – pass over him. Parents, every person he knew, they are killed.’

  I stare on at the grass, show no impression. Only a coldness shiver in my breath.

  ‘Toporov, he has nothing,’ Polkovnik say in easy voice. ‘So he goes in the army. Good. It is what a boy will do. And he is intelligent boy, works hard. He does better school of military. Everything right, he does this.

  ‘Then he goes to Africa, eight years. You understand – the war here, it is unpleasant. What Africa was, you don’t imagine. Some battles, a thousand soldiers go, it is five come back. And many die very badly. A Russian is taken by Africans, it will be many hours to die. What we find, it does not look like a person. And sometimes, was no food, no good water. So it was common, Africans and Russians eat each other. Our soldiers hunt for food – it is animals, or it is people, the same. It was a joke we had, when a soldier dies and goes to hell, he does not notice. Eight years so – but the vampire lives.

  ‘Then he comes to fight for me in Venezuela. First, it is very good. Not like Africa. We are only taking people to work for us. Help them from their sickness, feed them. Very wonderful. But, Korolyeva, I don’t know why it is so, our workers are never grateful. Some weeks, some months, and they always try to kill us.

  ‘My men there, was two hundred twenty soldiers. Who is alive now – four. Three, we leave in a plane. We think Toporov is dead like others. We come back two months after, an army we bring. We find the vampire fat and whole, at our old camp. He has a hundred Venezuelans there, they call him “Papa”. They are feeding him, give him girls. They are dead now also.

  ‘And now I learn he comes to New York, where we lose every man we send. But the vampire lives. Always, the vampire lives. How you think he does this, Korolyeva?’

  Here he begin to go in stories of all Pasha’s crimes. These mostly be familiar – what Pasha telling me himself. But the tales be different in this hearing. I got the injure Marines fresh in my memory. Feel how the children kilt by Pasha scream the same, die in their terror. Polkovnik talk on cold, and the world become a vasty darkness, an ever night of weeping children, while the moon watch down its one cold eye.

  At last, the Polkovnik say, ‘But I am boring you. I will not tell the other stories, they are alike. And this is old to you, I see. He told his wife, of course.’

  ‘Sure,’ I say. ‘He killing people. Be soldat, is what he do.’

  ‘Soldat?’ Polkovnik laughing almost happy at this word. ‘Korolyeva, this person is an officer of spetsnaz.’

  I shrug. Look back at my Bashir, who lean against his post, stare empty. Can wish he say his angry rejections now.

  ‘I see,’ Polkovnik say in humor. ‘This also tells nothing to you. So I will help you. For Toporov, spetsnaz means, his work is to lie to people like you. You do what he says, it is useful. When you do not, it is something wrong, he can kill you very easily. This is his education to do.

  ‘He is very good at this work, people trust him very much. I will tell you my belief for why. People meet Toporov, they see the sad young boy from Volgograd. He has lost his parents, he is very sad and it is pitiable. But this finishes badly, I am sorry. These people always die, because the man Toporov is something other.

  ‘Now you are sad, your husband is going back to Russians. I am dying, so I tell you for a gift – he never left the Russians. What he did with you, it is work. When he is Jesus, he does this for Russians. Talks love to you, for Russians. And if it is good for Russians, he kills you and all your people in one night. And sleeps well after. Who your Jesus is.’

  I heed this with a creeping in my blood. Is certain, Pasha always lie. And when he change his stories, say, ‘Now this be truth,’ I go believe. Ya, first chance that become, he skit to Russians. Rid me with no word. And in this inkling cold, I doubt my war from its beginnings. Been Pasha’s plan, Polkovnik right. Bring al
l my children to this hell, and never I mistrust, how Pasha be a Russian self.

  Then all suspicions drop into a vasty loneliness. Magine how Pasha been fourteen. Step from this river ditch to see the world gone into nothing. An everywhere of fire, an everywhere of blowing dust. His people become a burning smut; his town blow in the sky as pointless dirt. Yo cannot watch this fire forever. Cannot only feel this fear. Come time, he must decide, where he will go. Walk away somehow, and be a vampire, wrong for life – so I despair, and watch the Polkovnik’s ruin face, his sorrow eyes.

  ‘But he gone back,’ I say at last, peculiar hoarse. ‘Ain’t need these stories.’

  ‘You need.’ Polkovnik nod. ‘Soon Russians take the city.’

  ‘Or they ain’t.’

  ‘No, it will be. You know. So, here is advice. Don’t trust Toporov that he keeps you safe. My Russians take a city, it isn’t good for girls. You understand. And if Toporov finds you – you learn what he is some harder way.’

  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.