The Sudden Star (9 page)

Juan was frightened now; he would have to speak. "Uh, can I—" He stopped. His voice was cracking. "If things are so good there, why do they come here?"

"What do you mean?"

"People from the farms, they keep coming here."

"Because there isn't enough room for everybody there," the old man answered. "You have enough people to run the farms. The rest of them have to come here to work. So you have to work out there, but you can have something, at least."

Juan sighed. He wanted to run away and disappear in the streets, but then he'd have to start all over again, and his chance to make contacts would be gone. He looked down at the floor, feeling trapped. He had to talk to Ildy, ask her what to do. He looked over at Aisha. Her knuckles were almost white as she clutched the book, pulling it to her chest.

René said, "You can read now."

Juan was discovering that travel made him sick. He closed his eyes, feeling his ass bump against the seat under him. The truck rumbled as it bounced along the road. Ernie Mathen, the big man driving the truck, had cuffed Juan when he asked him to stop for a minute. Ernie was only nice to him when René was around, and René had been loaded, with a mattress, into the back of the truck.

The old man had decided to leave the city right after getting papers for all of them. He got the papers fast; Kathleen Ortega had seen to that. Juan tried not to think of Aisha's predictions, because Ildy had told him not to listen. Aisha had said Ortega would settle things in New York and then send someone to kill them all. Ortega had to, Aisha had argued, because René would still control much of their food supply, and the business it involved, with the farm. He had to believe Ildy when she said not to worry, because there was nothing else he could do. He hated her for convincing him. Without Ildy, he would have been in the streets now instead of in a truck, ready to vomit. The ride would kill him before Ortega could.

They had driven up the West Side of the city, stopping only to have their papers checked. They had been stopped one last time before leaving the Bronx. Ernie had paid the sergeant who stopped them, let him search the trucks, and then they were off, heading toward the Tappan Zee Bridge. A helicopter would have been faster, but René wouldn't set foot in one, so they were traveling in a convoy, three trucks loaded with bodyguards and provisions. Juan decided he hated René too. They had crossed the Hudson, passing several estates the army had confiscated, then had driven north for a while, and then turned west. The roads were filled with potholes, which meant Ernie had to drive carefully.

They bounced and Juan moaned. He opened his eyes; it was getting dark. He leaned against Ildico. "I feel awful," he whined.

"Slam it shut," Ernie said. "You get sick in this truck, and I'll be giving you something else to be sick about."

"Don't worry," Ildico whispered. "We'll have to stop soon, put in more gas, get some rest."

That didn't make him feel any better. The trees loomed above them on the side of the road; he thought of wild animals, lions, bears, tearing them apart in the night. He'd rather take his chances with robbers. He held on to Ildy. They bounced again and a sour taste filled his mouth.

Ernie suddenly turned, driving off the highway onto a bypass, then onto a dirt road. The road climbed a hill overlooking the highway. The truck, groaning and creaking, trundled up the road while Juan hugged his stomach and Ildy stroked his head. I'll never get in a truck again, Juan swore silently.

The truck stopped in a clearing. Ernie got out. Juan lay against Ildico. "Come on, get out," the blond girl said. "You'll be all right in a minute."

She lifted him, dragging him out, and dropped him on the grass. He sat there, waiting for everything to come out of his guts. Aisha, he noticed dimly, was climbing out of the second truck; she didn't look too steady. He took a few breaths, then realized he wouldn't be sick.

He looked around the clearing, seeing now why Ernie had stopped here. They could see the highway and had a clear view of the dirt road, which ended at the clearing. Beneath them, on the other side of the hill, was a wooded area. Someone could hide there, but could not approach the trucks without crossing an open area. Not that anyone would be stupid enough to do that, he thought, gazing at the guards. René had brought twelve guards, two machine guns, and several rifles.

Aisha wandered over to him on shaky legs and sat down abruptly; her head was hanging between her shoulders. Ildy was stretching. She put her arms over her head, then leaned over to touch her toes. Ernie came around the truck and stopped in front of Juan.

"Now you kids listen," the big man said. Juan stared at Ernie's black boots. "No lights after dark except if you're inside a truck. No wandering outside this area without you tell somebody where you're going, and no going where you can't see the trucks. You can piss behind that bush over there. Get some sleep because we leave at dawn." The booted feet walked away; Juan saw a hole in the right sole.

He was beginning to feel hungry now that he was feeling less sick. He hoped the guards would pass out food before long. "We should have run for it when we could have," Aisha said softly.

"Ildy said it would be—"

"Well, she's wrong."

"Look," Juan said, "when we get to the farm, we can figure out what to do." He looked around for Ildico. The blond girl was standing near the bushes that bordered the clearing. She stood very still, her head turning slowly as she surveyed the forested land. She leaned forward, as if hearing something, then turned around and came back to them. She sat down.

Then he noticed the silence. Except for the murmur of the guards as they talked, there was no sound except for an occasional twittering or a brief summer breeze rustling the leaves. The silence pressed against his ears.

"Strange, isn't it?" He jerked up, startled. "I mean, the quiet," Ildico said. He nodded and wrapped his arms around his legs, resting his head on his knees. It was cool out here in the country, cooler than the city; he wondered why.

Ildico crawled over to Aisha and put an arm around her shoulder. "It'll be all right," Ildy said. "Take my word." Aisha said nothing.

There they sat, Aisha's dark head on Ildico's shoulder. Their faces were shadowed. Aisha's red scarf, long and tasseled, fluttered against her white shirt and tan slacks, then settled on Ildy's pink blouse. They looked so pretty that Juan wanted to sit there forever watching them. He smiled, thinking about how much he loved them. They would all be together; the farm couldn't be that bad as long as they were with him. If the two girls would only smile, the picture would be perfect.

But Aisha only stared, and Ildico did not smile.

Juan lay wrapped in a blanket under the truck. He had a hard-on and he couldn't sleep; the ground was too hard. He recalled being able to sleep in alleys; now he knew he was getting soft. The silence thundered in his ears.

He reached for Ildico, touching her shoulder, then pushed his body against her. She didn't move; she was dead to the world. He sighed and turned toward Aisha's blanket.

The blanket was there. Aisha was gone. Startled, he propped himself up on an elbow; he hadn't even heard her move. He rolled out from under the truck slowly. Still hugging the ground, he looked around the clearing.

Two guards had been posted. They circled the area slowly, looking out over the highway and then around at the woods. One of them motioned silently to the other. They stood together near the end of the dirt road.

Then he saw Aisha. She was standing against a truck, almost invisible in the dark; she had covered her white shirt with a dark jacket. She looked over at the guards, then suddenly took off in the opposite direction, heading toward the woods.

He scurried after her, trying not to think of how threatening the dark trees appeared, or of what the guards might do if he was seen. Aisha slowed as she reached the woods and moved slowly among the trees. Juan, seeing the leaves and twigs before him, hoped he could step through them silently, without alerting the guards. The darkness was thick; he could barely see. A tree loomed over him; startled, he stepped back.

He huddled in the blackness under the tree, wishing he was back in his blanket under the truck. This was too much to suffer, even for a friend. He turned his head and saw her, standing nearby, a dark shape lit by moonlight. He moved toward her. She turned and saw him.

He went to her, almost stumbling as his foot hit a rock. His big toe hurt. He seized her arm, pinching the skin. "What're you doing?" he whispered, digging his fingers into her muscles.

She shook him off, then leaned toward him. "How do you know," she said, so softly he could hardly hear her, "that they aren't waiting until we're all asleep to kill us?"

For a moment, she seemed reasonable. He shook his head. "Why should they?"

"It's a good spot for it. Ernie's close to Ortega."

Juan shook his head again. "Nah," he whispered. "Too many guards the old man trusts are here." He grabbed her sleeve and pulled her back into the shadows. "You got to stop it," he went on. "We better go back before they know we're gone."

"They won't check. What if we wait here until morning? If nothing happens, we can go back."

"We'll get in trouble." He was terrified now. He heard leaves rustle and crackle and thought of wild beasts. You're safe in a crowd, he thought frantically. It's when you're alone you're in trouble. He heard a twig snap; then he froze. Only ten feet away, someone, or something, was standing, outlined by the moonlight.

Juan shrank against the tree. His legs wouldn't move. He wanted to scream. The figure moved closer to them. Maybe it couldn't see them in the darkness. The dark figure raised its right arm, pointing it at them, and Juan realized they were finished.

"Come out of there," a soft voice said. "Be very slow and very careful about how you move."

It was a man, and he had a gun.

He motioned them through the woods and down a small hill until they reached a brook banked by slabs of stone. He told them to sit on a stone and they did, careful not to move too quickly.

He was a slender man. In the moonlight, Juan could see a lean face covered with a short dark beard. The stranger threw a piece of rope to Aisha. "Tie the boy up." She tied his hands, then his feet. She was doing her best, he knew, to make him comfortable; the rope was not too tight. He sat there, hands between his legs, wrists tied to ankles, and was not grateful. If it hadn't been for her, he thought angrily, I wouldn't be here.

The man checked the rope, took Juan's knife from his belt, then tied Aisha's hands behind her back. "Now I need some answers very fast," the man said softly. "How many people are up there and what are they doing?"

"There's an old man, a girl, twelve guards, rifles, machine guns," Juan answered as quickly as possible. "And the guards check all the time. They could be coming here right now." He was sure the man wouldn't believe the lie even as he spoke. The guards were probably sitting on the dirt road sharing a butt. If I get out of this, he thought, I'll never help anyone again.

"I know you," Aisha said to the man. Juan's heart sank. "You didn't have a beard then." Juan prayed that Aisha would shut up. "You're the doctor. I was there when they took you away. I thought you were in prison."

"Why don't you just shoot us and get it over with?" Juan whispered despairingly, hoping the stories he'd heard about heaven were true. But if they were, he thought sadly, he wouldn't go there anyway. And the man wouldn't shoot; it was too noisy. He'd cut their throats and leave them for the animals. Juan huddled on the rock, hoping at least that the man killed Aisha first so he could watch her bleed; it was all her fault.

"I escaped," the man was saying. "They were supposed to hang me, but they never do that until they work you to death on Thruway repair first."

"How'd you get away?" Aisha, Juan thought, was brave or crazy. He felt calmer. If she could keep him talking, they might have a chance; the guards might notice their empty blankets.

"Ten of us made the break. We had outside help. We were supposed to meet near here and pick up new clothes and papers. Only two of us made it. I wound up with five sets of papers, these clothes, and a gun."

"What kind of papers?"

"Migrant worker. You're mighty inquisitive." The man peered at Aisha's face. "You're the girl who was with René, aren't you. Who's up there, one of René's gangs?"

"René's up there," Aisha said.

The man stepped back. "Is he, now? He could have saved me, he had enough pull." He put his gun in his belt. "I don't have time to stand here talking." His hand was on his knife hilt.

"Wait," Aisha said. "Take me with you."

"You're crazy. Why should I?"

"You've got extra papers. And if you have a kid with you, it'll throw them off. It'll help you."

"Didn't the old man treat you right?"

"I was trying to get away," she replied. "I just didn't have a chance before. Please, I can help you."

The man looked around nervously. The woods were quiet. "I don't have time to argue," he said at last. He untied Aisha. She got up, rubbing her wrists. "Do one wrong thing, and it's a bullet for you, just remember that." He reached again for his knife. "I'll handle the boy."