The Sudden Star (13 page)

Paula was alone. Her body shook; she was ashamed. She had no strength left to try to free herself. She pressed against the mattress, wanting only to hide, to burrow deep and disappear.

By the time Andy and Bert returned, she had rehearsed her story, having already told it to Elaine and the hired men. James had been the first to find her; Elaine had been brought to untie her. She had told them that Luis had forced her into the room at knifepoint, opened the desk, and left with the papers, including permissions to travel South.

Andy had listened wearily as she told the story again. She had been unable to look at Bert as she told it, recalling her words to him about duty and self-control. Andy had not said anything when she finished,

As they prepared for bed, Paula struggled to think of something to say. Andy stood in his pajamas near the desk, staring silently at the damage. At last she said, "We can call the army."

His head jerked up. "We can't afford it."

"We could use the money you were going to use for our trip." She was choking on the words. She sat on the edge of the bed, thinking of the distant fairy-tale city she would never see.

Andy said, "They took some of that money. I had it here, with the papers. And thanks to your son, I've had other expenses lately." He came toward her. In the shadows, his handsome face looked old and tired. "I didn't want them here in the first place, but I had to listen to you and your talk about poor scholars having to work. You always did think more of them than of ordinary people, didn't you?" He stood over her and she looked away. "And somehow they found out there was something worth stealing here, worth taking a risk. I'd like to know how."

"Andy," she said. Her voice shook. "Please. I would have liked the trip, but I can get over it. I don't really need a change. You don't have to worry about me."

He slapped her. Shocked, she recoiled, rolling across the bed, pulling at the sheets. "I didn't get those permits just for you." He was shouting. "Don't you think I wanted to go? Don't you think I ever wanted something besides thinking about you and Elaine and the kids and running this farm?"

Paula was crying. She brushed at the tears with the sheet. She would have to make it up to him, never complain, do everything well. She clenched her fists, firm in her resolve. She looked up at her husband, and saw a stranger's face.

At the end of October, Paula realized she was pregnant.

SIX

Rocca

Rocca sat on the sand and stared out at the ocean. The sea was greenish-blue today and calmer; the waves slapped the sand lightly as they rolled in. Time for a raid into Titusville, Rocca thought vaguely. He didn't like the idea, but it was a choice between raiding the walled town or trying to steal something from the grimmies who had set up along the beaches. Titusville was easy pickings, compared to that.

Sometimes he had a hard time remembering things. Nothing changed much out here so he had time to think. He used to live in Titusville, but that was before his father came at him with a knife. He couldn't remember what the fight was about. Other times he wondered if he was thirteen yet. It was fucking hard keeping track of a birthday or any other day. But he remembered enough about how to sneak into town and out, and what was easy to steal and where not to go, and that was all a guy had to know.
 

Rocca sighed. It was tough, having to decide things. At least he could talk things over with the Snake first. He glanced down the beach. The Snake, wearing a straw hat over his red hair, was walking in the wet sand of the shoreline, leaving a set of footprints behind. He hobbled along, pointing his toes in, then waddled, pointing them out.

Next to Rocca sat Jo-Jo and Tina. Jo-Jo never had much to say for himself. He was sharpening his knife, scraping it against the stone he always had with him; his black hair hung unevenly to his shoulders. Tina was singing softly to her doll Myra, rocking the dirty stuffed toy in her arms. She stopped, gazing at Rocca with her large gray eyes, brushing back a lock of sun-streaked brown hair. "Myra's hungry," she said sadly.

Rocca said, "I know, I know." He wished Steeb was still with them. Steeb always knew what to do. She was always the boss, up until the day she waded out into the ocean and drowned herself. Now Rocca was the boss because he was the oldest. He wasn't really sure he was the oldest, but he was bigger than the others, and they didn't remember how old they were anyway.

The Snake was walking up the beach toward him. The red-haired boy's nose was peeling again. Beach living, Rocca knew, wasn't so easy on the Snake. The skinny kid had to wear a hat and a shirt and long pants. He sat down next to Rocca.

"How much you got left?" he asked the Snake, who was their treasurer. The red-haired boy peered into the large pouch he wore at his waist.

"I got a ring we can trade for some beer and a couple of coins for candy."

"Any shells?"

The Snake shook his head. "All the good ones got picked over early."

"Get some dried meat and beer, no candy." Rocca's teeth always hurt after eating sweet stuff.

"Gator or dog?"

"Who cares? Take Tina with you."

Tina got up, put Myra into her pack, then hoisted it to her back, buckling it across her chest. She brushed the sand off her faded blue shirt and shorts, then followed the Snake up the beach.

Grimmies were up there in a driftwood lean-to today. He had seen their activity early that morning. A truck had arrived with a shipment and armed men. The armed men had set up shop. They would be there for a while until everything was sold, and then they would disappear for a week before they, or another crew of grimmies, took over the lean-to again.

Rocca thought about the grimmies, as he had many times. It was funny any way he looked at it. There were the grimmies, selling food to the beach people. The beach people, to pay for it, had to find interesting shells or something else valuable on the beaches. But there were never enough things to find out here, so the beach people had to make their way into Titusville or another city and steal something. The grimmies, after exchanging their goods for the stolen money or objects, would then skim off their profits, go back into Titusville or some other city, and buy more food. A lot of people bitched about it, but nobody did anything, because a lot of rich people had connections with grimmies and no one on the beach was going to be dumb enough to steal from a rich guy. Their security was too tight anyway. Rocca thought it was a good recycling system that spread everything around a little more. Besides, living on the beach was all right. A guy could go for a while not having to work, and it beat having his father come after him.

Rocca looked around the beach, putting one tanned hand over his eyes. Small groups of people sat on the sand. Beach people came in two kinds, basically; kids and old geezers. The old geezers were weaker, but they made up for it by staying in larger groups or teaming up with kids. A couple of times Rocca had been lucky, finding an old dead guy before anyone else got to him, taking his clothes and shells. But usually the other old people got to them first. Rocca squinted. He wished he still had his sunglasses, but he had lost them running from another gang of kids days ago. But, he could always steal another pair in Titusville.

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.