Jo-Jo poked him in the arm. Rocca looked up from the frayed edges of his blue shorts. He saw a girl wading out into the ocean. She began to bob up and down in the water, drifting away with the current. Seemed like somebody was going out to drown every day now, he thought. He tried to remember if it had always been like that.
"Not there," Jo-Jo said, gesturing to the north. "Over there." Rocca saw two figures ambling along the shoreline. The taller one was dressed in a blue work shirt and jeans. The smaller one wore a dirty white shirt and tan slacks. They weren't beach people, that was for sure, but they weren't grimmies either. They were by themselves, which was strange. Then he noticed a glint at their waists. Revolvers, he thought, and the tall one had a rifle slung over his shoulder. It was clear that they didn't have to stay in a group to protect themselves.
Jo-Jo eyed them carefully. "They got guns," he said. "They got other things too, then."
"Forget it," Rocca replied. "You want a hole in your gut?"
"They gotta sleep sometime."
A freckled hand shoved a bottle of beer in front of Rocca's face. Tina and the Snake were back. "Six beers," the Snake said, "and some meat they dusted the flies off of." He sat down and parceled out the food, tearing off equal-sized pieces and giving one to each. They could take the bottles back afterward and get a piece of cheese, and that would be it.
"Planning time," Rocca said to the others. "We gotta head for Titusville tomorrow."
The Snake sighed. "That's hard. We gotta go around and—"
"What if we don't go around? What if we go south along them old roads and through the scrub?"
The redheaded boy stared at Rocca. "You must be off your head. It's haunted down there."
"It ain't. I never seen nothing there."
"You never went through, Rocca. You always went around. I seen ghosts moving around there."
"You're full of it."
"Anyway," the Snake went on, "we'll starve before we get to Titusville."
Rocca gnawed at his meat. "Naah," he responded. "Jo-Jo's still got the food tabs, and Tina's got water. And we can always build a fire and boil some river water."
"Why can't we go somewheres else?"
"Because I know Titusville," Rocca said. "We might get in trouble somewheres else."
"You shouldn't of waited until now," the Snake said.
The Snake, Rocca thought, never did understand me. The guy just didn't know that it wasn't worth making plans and moving around until he had to. Rocca had always had trouble doing anything, until his stomach or something else drove him to it. If he was going to plan all the time, or do work, he might as well be back in Titusville for good.
"Maybe we oughta stay in Titusville this time," the Snake said, as if thinking the same thing. "There's ways to make a living."
Rocca shook his head. "Who needs it?" Once again, he wished that Steeb was still here. Someday, the Snake and the others would do what they wanted to do and he'd be stuck. But he didn't want to think about it.
The two strangers had seated themselves nearby, hardly thirty paces away. Rocca gestured at the two remaining beers. "See them? See them two over there? I'm gonna take them beers over."
"Aah, come on, Rocca, what for?"
"I ain't giving them away, if I don't get nothing for them, I'll bring them back." He finished his meat and drained his bottle of beer. "I want to check them two out."
"They got guns," Jo-Jo said.
"I know, I know." Rocca picked up the beers and started toward the pair. As he approached, the man eyed him warily. Rocca held up the beers. "Hey," he shouted. "Wanna trade?"
The man pulled at his beard and said nothing. His companion watched Rocca with huge dark eyes. He came a little closer to them, then squatted in the sand. "Look," he said, "everybody on the beach is gonna know just from looking you ain't beach people, and that's dangerous." No sense mentioning that the iron the two were packing would probably keep the others at a distance. "Now if you stick with my little band, you might be safer."
The man smiled. "And how do I know whether or not your little group will try something or not?" The man's accent sounded strange to Rocca, harsh to his ears, and the man spoke so rapidly it was hard to catch all his words. Rocca thought: I bet he ain't from Florida at all.
"You don't know," he drawled. "But ain't it easier to keep an eye on us instead of watching out for everybody?"
"Who's in your group?"
Rocca pointed to the others. "That's them."
"Not exactly an imposing band."
Rocca frowned, not understanding what the man meant. "Listen, you want this beer or not? You with us or not?"
"What do you want for it?"
"Got some coins?"
"No."
"What about that there?" Rocca pointed to a thin gold chain around the man's neck.
"It isn't worth anything."
"Worth two beers." And more than that, he thought, some food and other stuff. The grimmies liked jewelry.
The man took off the chain, and Rocca handed him the beers. He twisted off the top, lifted the bottle to his lips, and drank it quickly.
Rocca motioned to the others. They rose and ambled over, sitting down near the strangers. "I'm Rocca," the boy said. "That there's the Snake, and Jo-Jo. She's Tina, and her doll's Myra."
"I'm Simon, and she's Aisha."
So the other one was a girl. Hard to tell, even though she had one of the prettiest faces he'd ever seen. "You ain't from Florida," Rocca said, "that's for sure."
The man named Simon shrugged.
"They all wanta get where it's warm," the Snake said. "Only trouble is, most don't have no money to do it." He watched the pair carefully.
"We don't have any money."
"Don't you," the Snake muttered.
"We had to pay a guy to bring us down in a boat. He took it all."
"So where you headed now?" Rocca asked.
Simon was quiet for a moment. He looked over at Aisha, then turned back to Rocca. "We're trying to get to Miami Beach," he said.
The Snake hooted. "Miami Beach! They hit you for ten just to take a shit. You could go to the moon easier."
Simon smiled. "If I can get down there, I'll get in."
Rocca pondered that bit of information. It could be worth something. He turned it over in his mind, trying to examine it. But there was no way he could help these two. He sighed. He had never liked long-range planning much; it was too much like work.
Well, he thought, I have his chain, we can get food and stoke up for the trip to Titusville. They might have other things to trade, and their weapons would protect his group.
"Where'd you get this?" Simon asked, waving his beer bottle.
"Grimmies," Rocca replied, waving his arm at the lean- to. He lay back on the sand, stretching out his arms and legs. "Aaaah," he said, clawing at the sand. "Aaaaah."
"Oh, shut up, you'll wake up Myra," Tina said.
"Look," Jo-Jo muttered. Rocca raised his head. Three children stood at the water's edge. Their arms trembled and their legs wobbled. They staggered out into the water until only their heads were visible. They drifted away slowly, flailing about with their arms, then disappeared under the blue-green surface.
"They'll drown," Simon said.
"It happens," Rocca said. "But I ain't never seen three go at once." He lay back again and closed his eyes. The warm sunlight soaked into his limbs and chest. Tina was humming to Myra again. The tuneless, monotonous sound settled over him as he rested, content for the moment.
Rocca did not like the night. It got colder, and someone always had to be alert for trouble. Sometimes his mind would get the better of him and he would feel frightened of every sound and chilled by every breeze. He remembered curling up next to Steeb. He missed her most at night.
He sat behind a small mound of sand with the Snake. The others lay around them, asleep.
The Snake motioned toward Simon and Aisha, then drew a finger across his throat. Rocca shook his head.
"It'd be simple," the Snake whispered.
"They got them guns," Rocca whispered back. Simon suddenly opened his eyes and looked straight at them. He got up and crept over to the two boys.
"I'm the look-out," the Snake said. "I can't sleep so good anyway."
"Then I'll keep you company," Simon said. The Snake looked disappointed.
"We got to go tomorrow," Rocca said. "Then you won't have to watch us no more."
“Where to?"
"South."
"Then maybe we'll come along."
"You won't like it," the Snake said. "We gotta go around a lagoon and look for the old highway, and we go right near that old spaceport, and it's haunted."
Simon looked curious. "Haunted, huh?" He didn't sound as though he believed it.
"He's full of it," Rocca said. "There ain't nothing there."
"There is, I seen it."
"What's there?" Simon asked.
"A ghost," the Snake replied.
"Where'd it come from?"
"There was this man, is what I was told," the Snake whispered. Rocca shivered, wishing that the Snake wouldn't tell his story now, in the dark, but unwilling to show that he believed his friend's tale. He forced himself to be silent. "This man was powerful and everyone in the whole world knew about him. Then he said, I can go anywhere in the world, but I want to go to the moon.' So he had people build these big tall things."
"Where?" Simon asked.
"South. He built the old spaceport, and everybody helped him because they loved him. Then he told them he was going to the moon, and they put him in a giant ship and sent him there and he came back."
"What bullshit," Rocca muttered. The night air seemed colder. He wrapped his arms around his legs and tried to ignore the Snake. He had heard the story before, but hearing it in the dark made him afraid.
"Anyway," the Snake went on, "then the moon and the sun and everything in the sky got mad because they didn't want nobody up there. So some people say they sent someone to kill the man who went to the moon, and other people say he wasn't killed, but people got afraid and took over things and sent the man far away. Then the sky sent a big star to warn the whole world to stay here."
"And some people say that's a bunch of shit," Rocca said nervously.
"I see," Simon said. "And what about the ghost?"
"When the man died, they sent his spirit to the spaceport. That's his punishment. He has to stay there and guard it so nobody goes to the moon again. I seen him."
"He never saw him," Rocca said, " 'cause there ain't no ghost."
"I seen him. His head is almost to the sky. Ain't nobody goes over there. Some's like Rocca, they say it ain't true, but I don't see them going there."
"We ain't going to the spaceport anyway, just around," Rocca said, trying to reassure himself as much as Simon.
"I don't believe in ghosts," Simon murmured.
Rocca sighed in relief. "Listen," he said to the Snake, "I don't want you telling that story to Jo-Jo and Tina tomorrow."
"They heard it before."
"They ain't hearing it when we have to go around there." Rocca got up. "I'm going to sleep." He went over to Tina, curling up on the sand near the girl. He lay there, listening to the ocean, smelling its saltiness. Soothed, he finally fell asleep.
They had set off at dawn, right after Rocca had traded the gold chain for some dried meat and three oranges. They had trudged along the barren shoals, traveling south along the narrow strip of land separating the river from the ocean. The Snake had been acting quiet; Rocca wondered what he was thinking. Tina lagged, weighed down by the food and water in her pack. Simon and Aisha hadn't been any trouble; Rocca, thinking of alligators, was glad the two were armed.
By noon, Rocca had found a dirt road. They headed southwest along it, stomping through the ferns and brush that were already threatening to cover the road. The cooing and quacking of birds unnerved Rocca, and he began to wish he hadn't decided to come this way.
Tina still lagged. He stopped and waited for her to catch up. Simon and Aisha sat down, and Jo-Jo pulled out his knife, sharpening it on his stone. As Tina approached, Rocca grabbed her arm.
"Listen to me," he said, shaking her, "if you slow down again, I'm gonna take Myra away and feed her to a gator. You want that?"
Tina sat down abruptly and began to scream. She screamed on one high-pitched note, paused for breath, and screamed some more.
"Oh, shit," the Snake muttered, sitting down too. Rocca knew they would just have to wait until she stopped; hitting her would only make her scream more.
Simon was talking to Aisha. Rocca tried to hear what he was saying, but his Northern accent, stronger when he spoke to the girl, made him hard to understand. Tina suddenly stopped screaming and took off her pack. The Snake rummaged through it and took out the oranges, dividing them with his knife.
"We better eat quick and get going," the Snake said. Rocca felt irritated; he, not the Snake, was the leader. He bit into his orange, sucking out the juice and chewing the pulp. He looked up and saw an eagle flying overhead. The bird began to circle them. Then it dove at Jo-Jo, beak thrust forward as it streaked past Rocca.
Jo-Jo screamed, stabbing at the bird with his knife. Simon jumped up, clutching his rifle uncertainly. The eagle, wings flapping, dug at Jo-Jo's shoulder with its talons, then released him. It flew away toward the trees. Simon shot at it and missed.
Jo-Jo was bleeding, his shoulder marked by scratches and claw marks. Simon handed his rifle to Aisha and went to the boy, tending his wounds.
Rocca was afraid. He wondered what else was waiting to attack them. He began to wish he had taken the long route to Titusville; he'd made a bad mistake, coming this way. The Snake was watching him, squinting at him with his blue eyes. "Let's move," the red-haired boy said.
Rocca nodded.
They found the old highway in the early afternoon and followed it west. Grass was pushing its way through the cracks in the concrete; weeds and ferns covered the road's shoulders. Tina sang as they trudged over the pocked road. Jo-Jo kept pulling at the cloth Simon had tied over his shoulder and arm. Rocca looked around at the trees on each side of the highway, thinking of bobcats lurking in the darkness, waiting for night.
He kept his head down, staring at the road, careful not to trip over the loose pieces of pavement. His sandaled feet were blistering; his legs ached from the long walk. He wanted to stop and rest again, but that would just make it harder to walk afterward. Something screamed, hidden by the trees; his muscles tightened.
"Hey!" the Snake shouted. Rocca lifted his head. The Snake waved his arms. Up ahead, the highway divided, one road continuing west, the other south. He trudged after the red-headed boy.
"Let's stop and rest," Rocca said as he approached his friend. The Snake shook his head. Simon and Aisha stopped near Rocca and gazed down the south road.
"Where does that road go?" Simon asked him.
Rocca wasn't sure. The haunted spaceport was south of them; the road might lead to it. "I think it goes to that haunted place," he said at last.
Simon pulled Aisha to him and whispered something. She nodded, looking worried. Simon turned back to Rocca.
"We're leaving you," the man said. For a moment Rocca did not understand. "We're taking the south road. There's no point in following you."
The Snake said, "The ghost'll get you."
"I don't believe in ghosts." Simon turned and started to walk south, Aisha following him. The Snake watched them, fingering his knife. Rocca could see the boy thinking: could he throw the knife into Simon's back without getting shot? The Snake shrugged and let go of his weapon, apparently deciding he could not.
"Let's go," Rocca said wearily, disappointed that his band wouldn't have guns now.
"I thought you wanted to rest," the Snake muttered.
"We can rest later. I wanta get out of here."
The Snake motioned to Jo-Jo and Tina. They stood next to him, watching Rocca. "We got something to
decide," the Snake said. "Let's do it now."
"What?"
"We wanta stay in Titusville this time. We can't live on a beach forever. We're telling you now."
"Shove it, Snake, I'm the leader."
"Maybe you are, maybe you ain't." The Snake had his hand on his knife. "I think we need a new leader. You can say I'm the leader, or we can settle it here."
Rocca looked at Jo-Jo and Tina. They retreated a bit, standing behind the Snake. "Why don'tcha say something?" Rocca shouted.
"Ain't up to us," Jo-Jo replied. "You guys settle it." Rocca watched the Snake, wanting to cut him, wanting to stick his knife in his gut and see him bleed all over the road. He put his hand to his waist. The Snake pulled out his knife. Rocca had seen him throw it before; he was good. Rocca might be able to kill him, but not before the Snake had at least wounded him; he could bleed to death out here.
The Snake nodded. "You gonna decide things here or not?"
Rocca sat down, scraping his leg against a piece of concrete, and shook his head. It was over.
"It's decided," the Snake said, backing away. "We're staying in Titusville." He kept backing down the road, still holding his knife, Tina and Jo-Jo hurrying ahead of him. Rocca watched them retreat, thinking of Steeb again, missing her even more. The three grew smaller as they moved away from him. Rocca sighed. He could go after them, but he'd seen the look in the Snake's eyes. The Snake would kill him sooner or later. A gang couldn't have two leaders.
He got up. He could not stay here and he didn't want to be alone. He thought of the Snake's tales about the ghost and shuddered. But he didn't believe the story, he'd always said so. Still, he thought, it was easy not to believe it when you were far away and didn't have to worry about it.
The Sudden Star Page 10