The Sudden Star (5 page)

Kathleen Ortega smiled.

Karenga shouted. He dove through the window, shattering the glass. Simon watched the tall man run into the street. A machine gun chattered. Karenga, who was moving more slowly now, jerked, lunged forward, and fell, face down.

Simon felt a hand on his wrist, and turned away.

Three

Aisha Baraka

The images moved on the large screen, life-size figures swirling: Aisha Baraka felt the drums in her abdomen as their sound pounded against her ears. The golden man in the center seemed about to leap from the screen, away from the circle of silvery women. A group of children had gathered in front of the screen—some dancing, some seated on the sidewalk, others passing small bottles of pills to one another. Three policemen, holding their rifles carelessly, stood leaning against a tank in the street, watching the children.

Aisha stood next to Ildico Hannes. She glanced at Ildico and saw the blond girl sway her hips, look obliquely at the three militiamen, then turn back to the screen. Three boys near the screen were performing acrobatic feats, balancing on their hands, flipping backwards, turning cartwheels.

"They're good," Ildico said. "Somebody'll find them. They'll be on the screen, rich." Aisha was silent, thinking about money and fame. The three boys were working hard, sweat rolling down their bare chests, hoping that they would be seen by someone with connections.

Aisha toyed with her favorite daydream: Someone would find Ildico, maybe a rich customer or someone seeing her in the street. Ildico was beautiful and had presence; Aisha did not know what else to call it. And Aisha would be with her, since they were almost never apart and looked good together, fair and dark. They could not dance as well as the boys in the street, but they could learn, or they could be actresses. They would live in a penthouse and have parties and be friends forever and never have to fuck policemen and perverts ever again. They would not have to think about Lono or worry about what Ortega might do. Aisha would buy lots of books and both of them would have closets full of gowns. Juan could live with them and be the butler.

One of the policemen, muscular, brown hair in ringlets around his face, approached Ildico, watched her, glanced at Aisha, then looked back at the blond girl. Ildico grinned at him, shook her thick, fair hair, tapped her feet.

"How much?" he said to her.

"Ten credits," Ildico replied. She looked over at the other two policemen. "Twenty-five for the three of you."

"That's fucking high."

"So go find someone else."

The man walked back to his friends. They talked, then began to pull money from their pockets, handing it to the man who had spoken to Ildico. He walked back toward the two girls.

"Come on," he said. He looked at Aisha. "You, too," he said to her. "One of the guys likes your looks. You get ten for yourself."

Aisha said, "I'm taking the day off."

"Whores don't have days off."

"It's my birthday."

"It's her fucking birthday," Ildico said to him.

For a moment the man tensed, then relaxed and shrugged. No one ever seemed to stand up to Ildico—which, when Aisha thought about it, was strange. Presence, that was what Ildico had; she could sidestep trouble or melt it away. I wish I had presence, Aisha thought. Maybe it was just that Ildico, who was fifteen, was older and more experienced.

She watched Ildico walk off and climb into the tank with the muscular policeman. She turned back to the screen, trying to toss her head arrogantly the way her friend sometimes did. The three acrobatic boys were resting on the sidewalk, legs folded, bodies glistening.

"Want some?" a boy asked Aisha, passing her a small bottle of pills. She shook her head automatically and passed them back.

She walked over to the curb and sat down. Her throat was dry. It was getting hot in the streets, and soon she would feel the heat from the pavement through her sandals. She looked across the street and saw Juan Jones coming toward her, shorts hanging around his hips. The boy sat down next to her.

"Lono wants more work out of us next week," Juan said. "Says his costs are bigger. Bullshit."

"He gives us protection," Aisha said sarcastically. "He feeds us. Shit, he only beat me up one time." At least she could joke about that now.

"He says happy birthday." Juan snickered. "How old are you, anyway?"

"Fourteen."

"When I'm fourteen," Juan said, stretching his legs out in front of him, "I'm going to be running a whole street, and that fucker Lono's going to be working for me."

"I'll just bet." Juan was ambitious, that was for sure. She had been giving him lessons in reading and arithmetic for two years now, almost since they had met and he had found out she knew those things. And he worked hard at learning, she had to give him that. But he wasn't like her. He wouldn't go out of his way to read a book the way she did when she had a chance, losing herself in other places. That was her drug; she had the habit early, in a place and life she had almost forgotten. A lot of the books she read were about things the way they were before the star, when people rode in cars and had fine banquets and lived in mansions and went to the moon. Sometimes, late at night, in her own words, she would tell the stories to Ildico, who could not read. Ildico might not believe they were true, but she liked to listen. Juan was different. He wanted enough arithmetic so he could keep records without being cheated by somebody, and enough reading so he could read dream books and find out what he should do. He was practical.

Juan said, "Where's Ildy?"

Aisha gestured toward the tank. The muscular man had climbed out and a second policeman was climbing in. "She's in there."

Juan squinted at her. He ran a hand through his mop of curly black hair. "She's asking for trouble. Someday Lono's going to find out she's picking them up on the side, and he'll fix her."

"I do the same thing sometimes."

"You give him a cut. Ildy doesn't."

"Lono won't do anything," she said. "He wouldn't dare. He never touched her. No one can. She can make people afraid of her. You know that, you can see it. I bet even Lono's afraid of her. Nothing can hurt Ildico." Aisha sighed with pride, wishing Ildico were sitting next to her now.

"Yeah, but she's ignorant, just the same." Juan took out his knife and began scratching his initials in the grit next to the curb. He had been delighted when he first discovered that both his names had the same first letter. Two little girls near them were playing with a stray kitten, swinging it around by its tail while the creature mewed piteously. One girl finally let go; the cat sailed through the air and managed to land on its feet before scurrying into an alley.

In the street, two food trucks moved slowly, followed by armed guards in a Jeep, toward the ration center two blocks away. Across the street, groups of people, many clutching ration tickets, moved in the same direction. "Look at those ignorant bastards," Juan said in a singsong. "Off they go, stand on line, get their food and come home, lucky if someone don't steal it before they get there. Just like my old man. They don't care about bettering themselves. I don't know why they even feed those ignorant assholes."

The third policeman was getting into the tank. Juan watched, smiling a little. "He the last one, or is she fucking the whole street?"

"He's the last one."

"He better be." Juan lowered his voice as much as the noise would allow. "We're smart if we get out of here. I heard some stuff before I came over."

"Like what?"

"I heard Lono talking on the way out, to that guy Morris from the police. He said something about trouble on this street."

"What kind of trouble?" Aisha said.

"How the hell do I know? I wasn't going to stand there and get a belt from Lono for listening. All I heard is there's a bunch holed up around here planning something."

"Planning what?"

Juan jabbed her suddenly with his elbow, and she pulled away, tears welling in her eyes. He smiled apologetically, letting her know it was a friendly poke. She rubbed the sore spot between two ribs. "I don't know what, but it must be important or Morris wouldn't be telling Lono."

They looked back at the tank. Ildico was climbing out. She jumped down, waved at the policemen, and ambled toward Juan and Aisha.

They stood up. As Ildico approached, Juan began to speak, but Ildico motioned him to silence. "We got to move away from here fast," the blond girl said. They hurried down the street together. Aisha thought one of the policemen must have said something to Ildico. But then Aisha's friend never seemed surprised by anything, as if she could tell what might happen.

They crossed the street. As they reached the other side, Aisha glanced down the street and saw a tank and several Jeeps a block away, moving toward them. She grabbed Juan's arm.

"Look," she said, pointing. "They're army, not police." As she pointed, several policemen emerged from the subway entrance down the street. Ildico slapped her arm down and pushed her forward.

"Move your ass," Ildico said harshly. It was then that Aisha noticed the whirring sound of helicopters overhead. Ildico's three customers were climbing back into their tank. Ildico shoved Aisha and Juan again. "In there," she said. The three ran into the lobby of a crumbling tenement. An old woman opened her door and peered out.

"You get!" she shouted. "You better—" Ildico lunged at the door, pushing it all the way open and knocking the old woman down. Aisha and Juan followed her inside.

The old woman was on the floor. "Why, you little—"

"There's army out there," Ildico said. "It's going to be bad. Stay down." The old woman apparently decided to believe her, for she began to crawl toward a bed near the peeling wall.

Aisha looked around quickly. She saw an old man lying in the bed between graying sheets. A skinny young woman huddled in the corner, holding a baby. Juan locked the door, pushing bolts into place. "Get behind the bed," Ildico said to the skinny woman. "Get the old guy there too." The woman moved toward the bed, handed the baby to the old woman, and pulled the old man onto the floor.

Aisha went over to the small window, glass panes cracked and dim with dust, knelt, and peered out. A few young people stood on the sidewalk, shouting at the soldiers and police. They think it's just a patrol, Aisha thought, as she probably would have if Juan had not mentioned his suspicions. The children in front of the screen were dancing; the three acrobatic boys were turning cartwheels again. The tank stopped in the middle of the street; soldiers were climbing out of the Jeeps. Then the soldiers were running, taking cover. A woman screamed. Aisha saw a metallic glint in a window just above the screen. Someone was shooting at the soldiers. A female soldier near the tank lurched forward and fell. A red stain spread slowly across her back.

The tank guns exploded into the crowd of children. The screen was gone, replaced by a gaping hole. Aisha watched, numb and bewildered, her hands clutching the grimy windowsill.

"Get down!" Juan said, grabbing her and dragging her across the floor. He pulled her down near the bed. Aisha heard the tank rumble and the sound of Jeeps continuing down the street. Suddenly, machine-gun fire rattled through the window, smashing into the wall behind them. Aisha shook, praying to Allah that a tank would not aim at this building.

Then the street was quiet. The sound of moans reached Aisha's ears. Guns were still firing farther down the block. Ildico crawled toward the window and peered out. She turned to the others. "I think they're heading toward the ration center," she said.

Juan and Aisha got up. The thin woman was staring at Ildico with dead eyes. "My husband's at the ration center," she said tonelessly. The baby was crying weakly.

Ildico's blue eyes surveyed the room restlessly. She shook her head, then tilted it, as if listening for something. Aisha said, "I'm thirsty."

"We can't stay here," Ildico said. She looked around at the others. "Don't stay in here. Go outside. Get into an alley. Anything." The blond girl unlocked the door. Juan and Aisha followed her out into the hallway. "Follow me," Ildico whispered. "Don't run. If I tell you to, run, but not before." They went into the street. Aisha tried not to look at the sidewalks and almost tripped over a body. She ignored the cries for help. Turning slightly, she saw the young woman, still clutching her baby, herd the old couple into an alley.

They crossed the street. Another tank was rolling toward them. An explosion ripped through the center of the street. Stones and chunks of concrete rained around them. Screaming, Aisha fell, covering her head with her arms.

Ildico was pulling her up. "Come on!" Aisha forced her unresponsive legs to move. Her friend was dragging her past the shattered screen. They were in an alley now. Ildico let go, slumping against the wall. "Are you all right?"

Aisha was covered with dust. She shook her arms and legs; they were still working. "I think so."

"Someone in that building has hand grenades," Juan said. "We should get out of here."

Ildico said, "Wait." Then Aisha heard another explosion; the tank gun had fired. She turned and saw the tenement across the street, where they had taken shelter, crumble. The tank rumbled on its way.