Sandra Newman - The Country of Ice Cream Star

Leftward in its yard, there be a row of sprawlen bodies. All be roos, with furry hair. Each blooden at his head, the blood trail prettieuse in snow. Can see how they been kneeling in a line, particular correct. Then their neatness spoil by sloppy death.

Ya, here the rapists ease from us, lose backward in reluctance. Then the Kavkazkies lag behind. Soon only Bashir still stalk by me, despairing in his fury.

House got low steps in front, that lead up to a pillar porch. On these steps, be sat some twenty roos. They easy kept, be drinking-laughing. Got no drunken slobbery — is only loose in pleasure, like they laze behind a grandy meal.

Polkovnik Razin be sat middy to the steps. Face still blooden right, and both hands bandage into whitish mitts. He wear his dapple clothes, how every Russian clad this day, and look no different to the others. But can feel how every child attend him. Yo, as each roo notice me, he check to Razin nerviose. Can see, this be the Polkovnik’s house, his line of neatly murders. Be his unworld of rape and screaming dead.

Beside him on the steps be Pasha. Pasha rest one hand on Razin’s shoulder, easy in his body. Wear dapple clothes familiar to me from all days in Massa. But he strange to recognize, in all this thousand world of roos. Ya, he look to me with some expression that ain’t his. Can be fear, but ain’t his fear. And Pasha take his hand from Razin’s shoulder, stand up sharp. Polkovnik Razin glance to him, then turn his gentle eyes on me.

Bashir step back without no word. Turn down to the better shadows, to the better dead. Ya, I go on, rage gripping hot. My fear be rid. It be Toporov in my heart of blood. I come uncaring through the snow, its grub of cigarettes, red footprints. My eyes keep sharp to Razin. Ain’t want Pasha in my sight.

I stop at talking distance. Say in English, “Come for my trade, Polkovnik.”

An unknown roo ask something low. Razin answer rooish, clear in humor, “Be Toporov’s wife.”

Then roos around be laughing, look to Pasha curiose. I keep eyes on Razin. Know, if I look to Pasha, all my wolfen certainty be lost.

Razin raise a naying hand. Say English through their laughing noise, “You want your medicine, I understand. But I am sorry, Korolyeva. Of course, I send this to New York.”

As he talk, the other roos hush down. Heed to this English speech with squinting face.

I take a feary breath. “Gone to my people?”

Polkovnik pooch his nothing lips. “I am sorry, Korolyeva. The man who takes it… How you are not there, I don’t trust. He keeps it, I think. It is bad.”

My heart go vicious, helpless, but I hold my face correct. “Mean, you still owe me somewhat.”

“Of course,” he say with pleasuring eyes. He look up to a brown-head child, say some low explanation. The faces round begin to puzzle. Ya, I see Pasha stir in corner-eye, and flinch my hate.

Razin look back to me polite. “Ask what you want, Korolyeva. You see I am rich today.”

“Right,” I say. “Can guess, you got some prisoners?”

Razin’s face go thoughtful, like he measuring inside himself. “It is a good thought, Korolyeva. The least, I owe you four people. It is the right thing, to show we are not ungrateful.”

I grit, be thinking hasty, how I argue for more children. Magine how the penals going to beg, while I choose four. How Mamadou refuse to come, pride stronger than no fear. So it come like nonsense when Razin say, “But I think, your soldiers are male?”

“Ya, they boys.” My breath come short. “My Marianos be.”

He shaking his head before I finish. “Again, I cannot help you. Male prisoners, it is why we fight this unpleasant war. No, it will be an impossible thing, so I am sorry.”

I say, before my grief come full, “So girls left free? Or they all kilt?”

“This, it is something you know. We talked of this.”

Be a moment while I comprehend. Then all the world go blind. Be saying into rage and nothing, “Your children raping all they female prisoners. What you saying.”

“Of course,” say Razin in my blindness. “Today it is like that.”

“Yo filth,” I say in choken voice. “Nay, why you even living? Seen some ugliness, but Russians be like walking puke. How you never kill yourself, be some disgusting mysteries. Maggots, what you is. You—”

“No, Korolyeva,” Polkovnik say up loud. “Not like this.”

I catch my voice, grit to him with my cold hands shaking on Kalash. My spirit be a weaken thread. Like I already start to die.

He shake his head. “You must know, the hero gets three desires. You now lost two. I am a very bad person, you noticed this. I also noticed this, so I do not anger. I still give your last desire.”

All roos be fascinating now. They open-mouth in wishing they comprehend. Ya, I glance thoughtless to my Pasha. He watch me with disgusten face. His eyes be thin in anger. Ain’t nothing like himself, and for a moment, I think it be some other roo. Then I flinch my eyes away, tears starting in my throat.

“Bone,” I say rough. “Free they girls.”

Razin sigh. “Again, it is a bad choice. What happens now, I cannot change. If they live, they soon are free without your help. But now — to stop this, it will be a very bad fight. And my friends here also want to live.” He shake his head like disappointing. “You waste your three desires. It is a sad story, I think. It ends badly.”

I shrug against my wasting feeling. “Be no matter. Got no other wish.”

“You want nothing?” He raise eyebrows, smiling. “No, I can’t believe.”

“Ain’t going to beg my life. You kill me or you ain’t, be without this.”

“That is very good, Korolyeva. I think, you are like a wonderful actress.”

He turn by with pleasure eyes, begin explaining low in rooish. Russians heed with curiose looks to me, while I stand pointless. Begin to feel the cold again, and clutch my fingers in my coat.

Polkovnik finish, make sorry gesture. One roo say, Nay, is sad. Others laugh and nod, in preciation of this bony sadness. Polkovnik smile, turn back to me.

“My Korolyeva,” he say kindly, “we are all sorry for your desires. But I think, there is something more you want. This I will give to you, of course. You want to see your husband.”

I keep eyes on Razin cold. Heart be a throng of evils, but I only say, “I seen him. Got no other wish.”

“But you want to be with husband alone. I am a person, I understand. This I can give you.”

Polkovnik look to Pasha. Ya, my hands go harder to my gun. Begin to guess my last desire be Pasha Traitor’s death. But when I look up to his owlen face, I lose in weakness. And now the Polkovnik talk his rooish low. Russians wake in movement, all come gathering quick to me. Their faces bright from entertainment, got no angry mood. Nor I fight as they take my Kalash. The coat go with, and my belly come sudden freezing as they step away.

Then Pasha come toward. I clench with panic loathing. Look back toward the line of dead, the only children here I want to know.

Pasha take me by the arm without no word. Hand grip deep, is hard. I never look at him. But when he pull me, I go with.

He lead me past these roos — past the Polkovnik who look up with happy brownish eyes — up the steps, into the porchen shadows. He open the mansion’s door, and we go in a darken hallway, smelling cold with dust.

Then he fling the door shut hard. Close us in shadow darkness, where the outside noise be helpless dull. My throat gone tight with dread. I twist against his hold unthinking. But he drag me rough along, into an eating room, cold with unlife. Pass on, through one more door, and in this farther room, he leave me free. Shut the door behind, go hasty to a petty sofa. Drag this back against the closen door.