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 tu
rned 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.
Sirens sounded in the distance. The battle had stopped. Now Aisha heard only sobs, moans, and screams. The street smelled of death.
Ildico said, "We can go now."
Aisha closed the book on her lap and looked over at the old man lying in the large bed next to her. He was asleep. He had been tired when she arrived, and had drifted off after only a few pages. But she couldn't leave yet. When René dozed off, he expected her to wait until he woke up. Then she would have to reread everything he had missed while sleeping.
Reading aloud to someone was not the same as reading to herself. She liked to wallow in a book, making pictures in her mind, imagining herself in the midst of it. She enjoyed rereading passages she particularly liked and trying to figure out words she did not know. It was harder to concentrate this way, and even worse if Kathleen Ortega came in. René would ask Aisha to finish a passage and she would have to read it while Ortega watched her with her pale eyes. She would wait while Ortega and René discussed business. Then Ortega would leave, sometimes glaring at Aisha as she closed the door.
Aisha was afraid of Ortega. If anything happened to René, if he should die while Aisha was in the room, Aisha knew Ortega would kill her. She always worried about that when the old man was sleeping, afraid that he might go into a coma again. Juan, who always overheard things, had told her a lot of people thought Ortega had tipped the police about the doctor who used to give René his insulin injections. The old man had another doctor now, but Aisha was sure he did not like the new physician. She had seen the doctor talking to Ortega, and wondered what they were plotting.
No one would risk mentioning any of this to René. Maybe he already knew and was waiting for Ortega to make a mistake. Or maybe he was too old and tired to care, and would let Ortega ease him into retirement so she could take over. Or perhaps he felt secure in the knowledge that at least a few of his associates might get rid of Ortega on general principles, even if he died a natural death. Maybe he believed that she would have to keep him alive, if powerless, to preserve her own position. Aisha wished that she did not have to think about it.
She stood up, stretching to relieve her stiff muscles, and walked over to the window which overlooked the street. In spite of the crowds, the street was calm, numbers runners amiably taking bets, pushers joking with their clients, young people dancing as a street band played. The air was cooler today. A summer storm had come during the night, washing away some of the dust and rotting garbage, cleaning away the blood on the streets a few blocks down.
René stirred. Aisha turned, ready to sit down and resume her reading. But the old man was still asleep.
Things could be worse, she thought. At least reading to the old man was easier than working. She didn't get paid for it, and Lono was unhappy about having one less whore earning money while she was here. But sometimes René gave her an old book. She had twenty books now; once she had more, but Lono had thrown most of them out.
Lono had come to her about reading to René almost half a year before. She and Juan had been huddled in a blanket at one end of their bed, shivering in the cold. She was giving him a reading lesson. Ildico was at the other end of the bed, staring into space, unaware of the cold. Ildico was a heavy thinker. The blond girl sometimes spent hours looking out their small window or listening to sounds no one else could hear.
Then Lono came to the doorway. He stood there, cape draped over his shoulders, purple over his red jumpsuit, rings shining on his fingers, knife and pistol hanging from his belt, his skin, in the dim light of the hallway, almost as purple as the cape.
She was nervous, afraid that Lono would get angry at her and Juan for using the light. It was a running battle. Lono would lose it whenever Ildico was there; he never stood up to the blue-eyed girl for long. But he always got even, usually by giving Aisha a particularly nasty john, a pervert or a crazy.
"Get dressed," Lono said. "Get your ass downstairs in five minutes. You're going to René."
"Why?" she asked.
Lono came to the bed, grabbed her arm, and twisted it, dumping her on the floor. He raised his foot to kick her, then stopped; Ildico was there. "You dumb bitch, you don't ask if it's René. Maybe he'll set you up. You be downstairs." He left the room.
Aisha had scrambled out of bed, shaking as she dressed.
"What a break," Juan said. "Maybe you can find out if he likes boys. Might be something in it for all of us."
"There could be," Ildico said, coming out of her trance.
"Shit," Aisha replied, "it just means trouble. If he doesn't like me, things'll be worse."
"He'll like you," Ildico said as if she were stating a fact. Ildico was right. Aisha had been surprised to find that René only wanted someone to read to him. He was going blind, and that had frightened her. She had expected a strong man. She wondered how long he could hang on.
The old man stirred again and opened his eyes. She sat down. He said, "You were caught in the disturbance yesterday."
She nodded.
"I had a very nasty call from General Rice this morning. She expects us to control these insurrectionists. She keeps threatening martial law. That would not do my businesses much good."
"Oh, I don't think you have to worry," Aisha said, trying to cheer him. "The mayor wouldn't let that happen."
"You think not? I think Rice is already telling him what to do." He turned on his side and looked at her, squinting as if he were seeing her for the first time. She fidgeted in her chair, crossing her legs.
"Aisha, why is a girl like you a whore?" It was the first time he had questioned her directly. She was disappointed. She had been asked that a hundred times.
She shrugged. "I have to eat."
"Bullshit. Don't talk to me like I'm a dumb john. You can read, you had good schooling."
"I just picked it up," she said nervously.
"Bullshit. How did you get the books? How did you find the time? You're not a roof kid. You don't have the manner."
She thought of Lono and twisted her hands nervously. Lono worked for René; anything she said might get back to him. "I don't want to get into trouble. Please don't ask me."
"I don't want to make trouble for you. I can guess, anyway. Your name. You're a Muslim."
"So what? I can't go back there now."
"You we
re safe there. Muslims are strong. They have their own police, their own farms outside for food. No one leaves that enclave. What happened?"
"I went over the wall. It was a dare," she answered. "I didn't know what it would be like. We didn't have screens. They said what was on them was sinful, so I used to read a lot." She paused. It was all so distant: her uncle's home, her five cousins. The star, long before, had been a sign to reject infidel ways, to gather together until the evil world around them died. Now she would die with that world, condemned. "Some guy grabbed me on the street and took me to Lono's."
She had screamed at Lono to take her home. He had locked her in a tiny room, then come to her hours later. He had beaten her into unconsciousness. When she came to, he had beaten her again. She had a lot of time to think as she lay in the room waiting to recover. She had realized she could die. She knew she did not want to be beaten again. Lono had put her to work after she was well and she had made money for him; a fresh, pretty ten-year- old had been worth something. She had worked hard, recalling his fists and the pain, which oddly enough had seemed worse after the beating was over. "Lono put me to work," she concluded.
"Why didn't Lono take you back home? Nobody makes trouble for Muslims, if they can help it."
"He said they didn't want me." Aisha looked down at her hands, not wanting to talk about any of this. "My uncle was sick then, and my aunt didn't want me." Her aunt had never wanted her in the first place. "An extra mouth," her aunt had said in her hearing. "And not even your brother's child."
Her father had died when she was five and her mother long before. Her aunt had said Aisha's mother had loved another man and that Aisha was a child of sin. Her parents were dead because of it. That was what her aunt had told her—her mother punished in childbirth, her father dead of a broken heart. Maybe it was why fate and Allah's will had sent her to Lono.
The Sudden Star Page 4