Chapter 38
Father Hernandez appreciated that he never had been on an extended train excursion. Even though he could walk from car to car, being confined in the silver passenger tubes was exhausting. The undersized pillows barely provided comfort for him to rest his head. The oversized seats were flat, firm, and without ergonomic consideration. The longest of any of his previous rail jaunts was on the Metrolink commuter line when he made short trips around the Los Angeles and Inland Empire areas. The trips were for extended vicar backfill duties or supporting special events at sister-diocese parishes. Now the Father found himself on an Amtrak heading to New Mexico knowing this assignment equated to a demotion. His final stop would be El Paso, Texas; a vehicle from the treatment center in Las Cruces would pick him up. Taking a glimpse at his watch, he estimated another two or three hours before arriving at his station. Although the reclining coach seats were oversized and allowed for a pseudo-sleeping assemblage, Father Hernandez found he could only sleep for a couple of hours in the makeshift bed. The loud snoring from the overweight college student who’d boarded in the middle of the night didn’t help. There was more than enough time to head down to the lounge car and grab something to eat if it was open this early.
No one was in line to be served. Grabbing a breakfast sausage sandwich from the small shelf refrigerator, a bag of salt-and-vinegar flavored chips just below, and a large cranberry juice, he walked around to the lounge car cashier station and handed the attendant his entrée selection. The attendant put the sausage sandwich in the aged silver microwave with only seven large white buttons down the front side, closed the door, and selected the third button from the top; 45 seconds showed on the dim LED display. Waiting for the time to elapse, the Father paid for his food, collected several napkins, and accepted the heated sandwich.
He chose an empty table near the end of the car and, glancing out the large window, saw the morning sun’s corona peeking off in the distance just above the desert floor. Looking across the aisle out the opposite side of the train, the pitch of night was still framed in the window; flickering stars resisted the coming morning and made their last stand of glory before the full revelation of the sun. Off in the distance, the shadow of hills and mountains draped the awakening view. Father Hernandez watched a young lady, blond hair uncombed and matted, wearing several layers of worn, wrinkled clothing, walking back and forth down the aisle holding a book that she appeared to be reading aloud. The more she spoke, the more fragmented and unintelligible her sentences sounded. He thought maybe she wore a Bluetooth earpiece and was engaged in a unique conversation. During her next pass, he noticed she put special emphasis on each proper noun and he saw no electronic device or ear buds. She continued through into the coach car. The Father dismissed her until she returned several minutes later, still reading what sounded like the same pages she had when she’d passed through the first time. She moved ahead to the dining car.
Father Hernandez finished his meal and returned to his seat through half-empty cars. Passengers tossed and tussled in their seats as the morning sun penetrated the windows with open curtains. In one pair of seats, a middle-aged father fed his baby son a bottle while the mother still slept. Several rows later, an elderly woman the Father remembered as being spritely when they boarded in Los Angeles was lying across two seats yawning and stretching her arms. Behind her, a young child played with his portable game machine while his mother frantically dug through one of their three backpacks, relieved to find a prescription medicine container.
Arriving at his seat, the college student sitting across the aisle was still snoring. Looking out the window at the rustic environment, he decided now would be a good time to catch up with some more reading. He pulled from his briefcase the profile information forwarded on the mission, background, staffing, and patient makeup at his new assignment, the Dawles Psychological Hospital and Treatment Center, which had recently been built just down the road from the minimum security federal corrections facility where many of the patients originated. The treatment center provided support for those suffering through addictions and minor mental disorders. It was billed as one of the largest in the West for rehab, treatment, and psychological research away from the influence of large cities or universities. The center sponsored several desert retreat centers nearby to provide isolation for those with severe addictions to minimize accessibility. Before heading out to New Mexico and talking to several staff members to get an idea of what to expect, they all pretty much said the same thing, it tended to be extremely busy.
According to his assignment paperwork, he would play the perfunctory role of chaplain for both staff members and patients. Father Hernandez wasn’t sure why he’d previously overlooked a section stating, “He would be working in a pluralistic environment and must be sensitive to the religious needs and beliefs of the other religious denominations and faith groups.” Father Hernandez thought his assignment was to a facility owned or sponsored by the Catholic Church; it now appeared it was more ecumenical in its staffing and operation. Demotion now cemented in his consciousness.
He thought of acclimating to his new environment once arriving at Las Cruces with the same reluctance he’d had when accepting the assignment of finding out what happened in what would now be called the Los Angeles Angel Incident. Content and not wanting anything to change, he just wanted to be left alone to work diligently to serve the Church by ministering to his congregation. Having previously succumbed to Bishop Grielle’s subtle strong-arming, Father Hernandez found himself being unwillingly reassigned as a punishment for attempting to present what he considered the truth of what he’d discovered.
After reading the paperwork on the facility, and then reading his daily devotionals for nearly an hour to counteract the emerging feelings of being spurned by the Church, the Father was bored and weary of the trip. He decided to head back down to the lounge car, now brimming with more activity, and the line for food possessed more passengers than when he’d come down earlier. Finding an open table, he took a seat by a large window and looked at the vista of the Painted Desert-like landscape flitting by. Glancing at his watch, he saw he’d be arriving at his stop soon.
The Fallen and the Elect Page 66