by N. C. Reed
“How’s your back?” Jesse asked, nodding his agreement.
“Hurt’s like a sum-bitch,” Roland admitted. “I’m hoping the hot water will help.”
“Might do,” Jesse nodded again. “Don’t fall.”
“I’ll try not to.”
-
Roland stood under the hot water for a long time. It was a decadence in their situation, but Jesse was right. He wasn’t able to operate like this. He had allowed himself one morphine ampule from the well-stocked bag given them by the medics at the armory, and that had taken the edge off his pain. He wanted to get clean and lie down before it wore off, because he wouldn’t allow himself another.
James had showered and left, never saying a word. Roland hadn’t tried to get him to talk. Not tonight when the pain was still fresh. He’d try tomorrow, if James was open to it. Forcing him to talk wasn’t an option Roland knew from firsthand experience. People had tried to make him talk. All it had done was make him irritable, and then angry.
His thoughts turned to the woman who’d arrived earlier. He realized he didn’t even know her name. To be fair, getting some food into her and her children had seemed more important than social pleasantries at the time. It was clear that they had been traumatized. He wondered absently if they had been in the house when the tornado destroyed it. Probably not, he decided. Most places in this part of the country had storm shelters for days like today.
He wondered if she had anyone to take her in. Odds were she had family somewhere around, but you never knew. If she didn’t, well, she could always stay here, he figured. Homeless was homeless, no matter what your age.
Homeless. That word bounced around in his head for a long time. Roland himself was homeless, unless you counted this place. He’d never had a real home, anyway. The Army had been his home.
Funny, he thought. If I had stayed, I’d be in pretty good shape, probably. Three hots and a cot, and all that. But if I had, where would these kids be? Would anyone else have stood up for them?
Probably not. He might have let down his First Sergeant when he left, but surely the old soldier would look at what he’d done since and be proud. He was protecting innocent civilians. Wasn’t that what the Army was all about? Protecting Americans?
Probably couldn’t tell that in recent years, of course. It was difficult to see how what he’d been doing the last seven years had anything to do with protecting Americans. But he was now.
Roland shut the water off reluctantly. His back was about as good as it was going to get, now. His reluctance wasn’t the loss of the steaming hot water. It was the realization that he would have to go back out into the school. For a few precious minutes of introspection, he hadn’t had to focus on his troubles.
It was a rude awakening to realize they were still there. He was still here. Drying off, he dressed quickly, shivering slightly now that the effect of the hot water was wearing off. He headed back to the cafeteria to see if the woman was out of the shower. Might be a good time to talk to her, and see what her story was.
When he entered, the only person there was Maria. She was sitting at a table, nursing a hot cup of something. That made Roland wish he had a cup of coffee, or even better, hot chocolate. He didn’t, so he shrugged it off and went to sit down opposite the young woman.
“How you doing, Maria?” he asked softly.
“I am well,” she shrugged, looking up at him. “How is your back?” she asked, eyes showing her concern.
“it’s better,” Roland lied. “Hot water helped. Where’s our guests?”
“They have turned in for the evening,” she replied, taking a sip from her cup. “Her name is Andrea Turner,” she provided. “Son’s name is Bryan, and infant daughter Alyssa. Their home was completely destroyed by the storm today. Those two bags were all they could salvage alone. Clothes, a few toys and pictures, and a handful of diapers.”
“Wow,” Roland murmured. “That’s rough.”
“We do not have diapers,” Maria told him. “I do not know how to get any, either. Perhaps we can make some?”
“Do you know how?” Roland asked. This was about the nicest conversation the two of them had ever had. Roland found himself enjoying her company for the first time since. . .well, ever.
“I believe there are a few sheets the Army gave us that would be heavy enough. But we will need safety pins for them, and I have none.” Roland nodded, thinking about that.
“Could we sew buttons on them?” he asked. “I mean could you. I don’t know if that would work, but...”
“Perhaps,” Maria nodded, clearly thinking about it. “It would not be perfect, but it would work, perhaps. Excellent suggestion, Roland,” she smiled. Roland realized with a start that Maria was actually very pretty. Especially when she smiled. He’d never noticed that before.
“Well, I have to do something to earn my keep,” he shrugged, smiling back.
“You have done far more than that,” Maria told him softly. “I owe you an apology, Roland Stang. And I am sorry.”
“For what?” Roland asked, genuinely puzzled.
“I have doubted you from the start. Not just because you were gringo. That was a convenient excuse, and true as far as it went. But. . .you frighten me, sometimes. You are a very violent man, Roland, and in my doubt and fear, I worried that you might be so with us. I also could not understand why a man such as you, one who could clearly survive in this time of trouble, would burden himself with such responsibility. I looked for an ulterior motive in all that you did, wondering what your plan really was.”
“Yet, this morning, you never hesitated to risk your life for Todd and Cassie. You didn’t know them, they weren’t your family, and you had no obligation to look for or protect them, other than the one you placed upon yourself. But you did it anyway. Without a thought to your own safety.” She reached across the table hesitantly, and placed one small hand on his much larger one.
“Thank you,” she said simply. “I hope you can forgive me.” He squeezed her hand slightly before letting it go.
“Maria, I told you. I’m not really a good man. I haven’t been in a long time. Maybe I never was. I was still working through that when things went to hell.” Roland paused, making sure he worded this right. “All of you are my family now, Maria. I’ve never had one before, I told you. Maybe the Army, in a brotherhood kind of way, but never a real family. I can’t remember my parents; I was so young when they died. My earliest memories are of foster care, and that was no picnic. People take in foster children for many reasons. Some genuinely love children, and want to help them any way they can.”
“Others, they want the money the state gives them for taking care of us. Money that should be, is supposed to be, spent on the children in their care. That doesn’t always happen. And you’re a scared kid, with no one to look out for you, so you don’t say anything. You get by as best you can, waiting for a chance to get away.”
“When I realized what was going on in that warehouse, I had to do something. Had to try, anyway. All of you dependent on those scum bags, basically at their mercy, made me think of the times when I was in a bad home. No one was there for me. I… I couldn’t let the same thing happen to all of you.” He looked at her.
“And you didn’t have to be there either,” he said softly. “You could have left at any time, made your own way. But you stayed for the rest of them, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” she almost whispered. “I had nowhere to go, and they needed someone. I know that some of the parents died while looking for food and water for the children. I am not certain, but I think Wright may have killed some of them, especially the women.”
“Some of the parents, though, I think just left,” she continued sadly. “They were without hope, for themselves or their children. And some of them didn’t really seem to care. As if the children were a burden they could no longer support. Or no longer had to support,” she added with a tinge of bitterness. “They just left them. I have often wondered how it was that s
o many children were gathered in such a place. I suppose the warehouse was out of the way, and therefore seemed safe, but I do not know. Some were found on the streets and brought there by people trying to help, even when they couldn’t seem to help themselves. Some, like James, Deena, and the others, made their way on their own from wherever they had been when things turned bad. I do not know how they found the place, they just did,” she shrugged.
“Well, however it happened, we’re all here, safe and sound, at least for now,” Roland said. Maria looked up sharply at him.
“I know, we lost Cassandra,” Roland held his hands up. “That was no one’s fault but mine, either. It never even occurred to me to plan for what to do during a storm like that. And it should have. I lived in this area, well all over it, really, until I joined the Army. First thing you learn around here is watch the sky.” He sighed, dejected again.
“I should have made a plan for that. We should have drilled the kids on what to do, and where to go. And we will, now, because this could easily happen again. We can’t. . .can’t bring Cassandra back,” his voice broke a bit. “But we can make sure we don’t lose anyone else in the same way. It’s all I know to do,” he admitted sadly. “I messed up, and I can’t fix it. All I can do is make sure it don’t happen again.”
“You are no more to blame that I,” Maria said mournfully. “I should have kept up with them better. I should have counted them as we came inside. Tomorrow I will have the children select play buddies. In an emergency such as today’s, they will all find their play buddy. When I see someone alone, I will know someone else is missing, and who it is. As you say, it will not bring Cassie back, but it will, perhaps, prevent another loss like hers.” She paused, and then laid her hand on his once again.
“You did save Todd, Roland,” she told him softly. “And that is not nothing. It is very much something, in fact. We could have lost two children today, if not for you.”
“James was there, too,” Roland shook his head. “He blames himself for what happened to Cassandra. He was out there, in the middle of the tornado, looking for her. What more he could have done I just don’t know.”
“There was nothing more,” Maria said simply. “I have not said anything to him, but I plan to tell him so tomorrow. He was very brave to do what he did. He deserves to be commended for that, rather than berated for her loss. He has much courage, that one,” she said firmly.
“Yeah, he does,” Roland agreed. “I think that’s a good idea, Maria,” he added. “I planned on speaking to him too. Maybe between the two of us, we can convince him.”
“We do make a formidable team,” she smiled wanly.
“Well, I’m off to bed, I think, before the hot water wears off completely. Have Ralph turn off the hot water heater before he turns in. Jesse on watch?”
“Yes, and James will relieve him, and then wake me for breakfast. You are to rest. We cannot be without you, Roland Stang.”
“Why, Maria, you almost sounded like you meant that!” Roland joked, grinning at her.
“I almost did,” she replied dead pan, and then laughed.
“Good night, Maria.”
“Sleep well, Roland.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The next morning was beautiful. As was usually the case, the storm front had moved on through, leaving clean, crisp air and clear blue skies behind it. It was cool but not cold, and the day promised to be a pretty one.
There was still a dark mood around the school building after yesterday’s emotional events, but at least the children were talking as they filed into the cafeteria for breakfast.
Roland eased into a chair at the side of the room, observing but not intruding. He hadn’t been there long before Maria was in front of him, a bowl of oatmeal in hand.
“Good morning, Roland,” she smiled down at him, setting the bowl before him. “I hope you still like oatmeal.”
“Love oatmeal,” Roland nodded. “You didn’t have to do this, Maria, but I really do appreciate it.”
“You are quite welcome,” she smiled again, before heading back to the kitchen. Roland watched her go, realizing again just how pretty she was, then dug in. Jesse was probably still asleep, and James might be, he hadn’t checked. Things were quiet this morning, and so Roland decided to just go with the flow.
He was about half way through with his oatmeal when Andrea Turner walked in, her baby in her arms, and son by her side. She looked around in dull shock, her eyes finally coming to rest on him. She walked over to where he sat.
“May we join you?” she asked hesitantly.
“Sure,” Roland replied, gesturing to the seats opposite him. The woman sat down tiredly, the boy sitting beside her.
“I wanted to thank you,” Turner said at once. “I was so tired last night, we all three were, that as soon as we ate and got cleaned up we were asleep. Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for,” Roland assured her. “I went to clean up, and pretty much did the same thing. How are you this mornin’?”
“I. . .I'm in shock, I guess,” she sighed. “Still sinking in. We’re lucky to be alive, so it’s hard to be angry. But we didn’t have much to begin with, and now it’s gone.”
“We can head over there sometime today, and see if we can salvage anything, if you want. I can understand either way.”
“I don’t think there’s any point,” she sighed. “I looked for a long time to get what we did. Like I said, we’re lucky to even be here.” She suddenly looked down at Bryan. “Honey, would you like to go sit with the other children?” A resounding shake of the head was the boy’s only answer. She sighed again, and looked back up at Roland.
“Will it be okay if we stay here another day?” she asked hesitantly. “I don’t know if I can find...” she stopped as Roland held up his hand.
“You can stay as long as you like, so long as you’re peaceable and willing to work. We put a large garden in, if you know anything about gardening.”
“Oh, we’ve always raised our own food,” Andrea replied. “Sure, I know how to do that. And to can, and preserve if you have the equipment.”
“I doubt we do, but maybe we can come up with something,” Roland replied. There was something they could sorely use. “Maria is trying to come up with something to make cloth diapers out of.”
“She is?” Turner looked surprised. “I… I don’t know what to say! All of you have been so good to us.”
“Well, we’re good people,” Roland smiled.
“You sure are,” she smiled back. “Well, I guess I need to get these two monkeys fed, and then see what I can do to be useful.” She stood.
“Thanks again.”
“No problem,” Roland answered as she headed for the kitchen. Roland was suddenly wary, for no reason he could fathom. It bothered him, but he didn’t know why, and that bothered him worse.
He was still working on it when he finished his breakfast.
-
Roland decided to sit outside, lounging in a chair, and soak in the sunshine. He hated to admit it, but his back was hurting like hell. He’d taken some Extra Strength Tylenol earlier and that was helping, but it still hurt.
He could tell that it was strain rather than a more serious injury by the way his muscles tensed. He was grateful despite the pain. Getting something like a serious back injury fixed now days would be dicey at best. And he’d be out of action for a long time. Maybe permanently. He had too many to look after for that to be the case.
So deep in his own thoughts, Roland was uncertain of when James had decided to join him. The teen was deadly quiet when he wanted to be. He saw him out of the corner of his eye.
“Mornin’, James,” he said calmly.
“Morning, Sir. Roland,” he corrected, and that brought a grin to Roland’s face.
“How you feelin’ today, kid?” he asked.
James seemed to think about that for a moment before answering.
“I don’t really know,” he finally admitted. “I’ve never be
en responsible for someone dying before. Not like this.” Roland caught the inflection, but pretended not to. There was a lot lying under the surface of this kid.
More like you than you know, he heard Gran Fuller’s words in his head.
“You weren’t responsible for Cassandra dying, James,” Roland said gently, but firmly none the less. “I was. I knew what happened yesterday could happen, and I didn’t do a damn thing to plan for it. That’s no one’s fault but mine.”
“I was hiding under a truck while she was drowning,” James said bitterly.
“So? There was a tornado, James. Hiding under the truck while it passed over was the smart thing to do. Showed good sense on your part. I’m proud of you for thinking so smart.” James looked up at him.
“But I failed,” he protested quietly. “How can you be proud of me when I failed?”
“How, exactly did you fail here, James?” Roland asked him. “How is it that you’re responsible when there are adults all around you supposedly smarter and knowing better? You ran into a storm to search for her. That’s not failing, James.” He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. This had to be done just so.
“Sometimes things are just beyond our control, James,” he said finally. “It doesn’t matter what we do, how well we do it, nothing. We still lose. That’s life, kid, and it ain’t fair. I shouldn’t have to explain that to you.”
“When I was nineteen, I was in a firefight in Afghanistan. It was tough going, and a buddy of mine took a round in the belly. I patched him up, just like I learned in class, got the bleeding stopped. He was talking to me, the whole time, telling me how he was going to enjoy being out of the desert for a while, looking at pretty nurses and getting sponge baths while I was still getting shot at in the heat and the dust.”
“I slung him and started for the aid station and he’s still talking away. He got quieter as we got near the medic station and I figured the pain was finally hitting him, so he was trying to be still.” Roland looked at something in distance, remembering.