My My Little Prince

by Rod Lacy Rod Lacy

  “No exactamente, ¿por qué?”

  “Hay muchos Americanos aquí en la ciudad ayudando los pobrecitos. Hay muchas personas con lesiones en la clínica.”

  Pierre looked at Campbell and said in English, “Maybe my family is here. I need to see.” He turned back to the man and held out a few more pesos, but remarkably, the man refused the money. “Do'nde estás la clínica,” he asked the old Dominican. The man pointed to the corner and said to turn left there and go about a kilometer and that it could be seen at the top of the hill.

  About ten minutes later they saw a large building on top of the hill, just like the helpful Dominican had said. Tents were already spread everywhere and flags from several countries could be seen hanging listlessly. The place was lit up with artificial lights and trucks were hustling all over the place. A huge American transport helicopter kicked up all sorts of debris as it was landing at a make-shift helicopter pad all lined with sand bags. At least twenty people, in various pastel-colored scrubs and clinic jackets were scrambling to get prepared for the landing and to transport the new incoming patients. People were scurrying everywhere and there was a lot of shouting. It was helter-skelter!

  In minutes the back ramp of the helicopter opened and Campbell and Pierre watched as five crews; all toting gurneys, immediately entered the helicopter. A quick few minutes after this they all come out rushing back out again, each with a patient on a gurney and all racing towards the clinic, bending low under the still rotating ‘copter blades.

  Pierre and Campbell parked a safe distance from the commotion and got out of the car. They walked fast toward the two-story building toward what appeared to be more of an administration entrance than triage area; although the entire field was littered with the injured.

  On the way to the entrance, Dr. Pierre stopped one of the men following behind one of the gurneys and asked who was in charge. He filled him in very briefly about his family. The doctor immediately pointed toward the entrance and told him he can enter there, but there are no real records. “If your family is here they would either be in the receiving area downstairs or in the Post Op area over there. They could even be in the one of the tent villages springing up ... or the morgue he added softly.”

  He then pointed to a one-story building on the other side of the compound. It was past all of the tents where the volunteers slept. Pierre gestured thanks because at that moment the helicopter was taking off again making it impossible to hear any words.

  Pierre grabbed Campbell’s arm and tugged him and began to almost run to the entrance. Once inside he raced through the receiving area searching every which-way for his family. Seeing nothing, he headed for the Post-Op area.

  Later, after looking frantically through the hundreds of patients sitting all over the Post-Op area he said to Campbell, “no luck here; … well, maybe it is good luck. The people here are obviously some of the worst, so maybe my family is ok.”

  Pierre looked at Campbell, crestfallen, but still positive. He pulled him out of the way of two running nurses and said. “They could really use some help here!” He quickly explained to him that maybe they should stay and help out some, just for a couple hours. Basically the medical team was only rushing to do the bare necessities ... just saving lives as they were not set up for any more. They were sewing people up and setting bones where they could and just amputating the extremities of others when needed. That is relatively fast, so maybe they should volunteer and help.

  A startled Campbell almost choked and stuttered, then said, “Well yes, I suppose, of course.”

  Pierre again grabbed his arm and led Campbell into one of the American surgical suites. Not really surgical suite as one might think, but an area blocked by sheets and equipment. There were many areas separated by sheets to separate the various groups that had come to help.

  The group next to the American area was from Mexico. Pierre pushed the sheet aside and interrupted the surgeon as he had begun to cauterize a peripheral artery in preparation for the amputation surgery. “Doctor,” he started, “we are surgeons from Santo Domingo on our way to Port-au-Prince.”

  The doctor looked up and said, “Great, can you take that patient over there?” He pointed to a patient that was next to the wall, laying on a gurney. The young girl was conscious, but she was moaning and rocking back and forth. There did not seem to be any family members nearby for support, and her right leg was wrapped in blood-filled gauze, “Please prep her for surgery. She is next.”

  Pierre and Campbell walked over to the patient as does a nurse and an anaesthesiologist. The nurse looked at Campbell and said, “Doctor where would you like to work?” She pointed to an open area in the hallway and gestured, “is that ok?”

  “Perfect,” he agreed. They rolled the gurney over and Pierre immediately began to undo the gauze. He stopped quickly as he realized that the gauze was wrapped very tight, to serving as a tourniquet too. Pierre turned to flag down a supply man that was pushing a cart from table to table delivering gauze, needles, lidocaine and other basic supplies. As he turned back, Campbell, trying to look busy, had loosened the gauze some not knowing what he was doing and thinking that he would continue what Dr. Pierre had started. With the Posterior Femoral Artery re-opened, the entire gurney was floating in blood within seconds. Campbell stood there in shock. Pierre pushed Campbell out of the way as the other surgeon almost dove across his patient to help.

  Pierre grabbed the patient, rolled her over and the other surgeon grabbed a large pan of haemostats and began jabbing them into the area where the most blood was spraying out. The patient was screaming and screaming as he stabbed the haemostats into her legs over and over again, finally finding the artery. He squeezed the haemostats, stopping the blood flow as the patient passed out from the pain and the huge instant loss of blood.

  Pierre yelled for someone to bring two bags of blood stat. He quickly looked at the patients chart and noted the blood type and yelled it to the supply guy.

  He looked at Campbell and said, “We are both tired. Maybe we had better leave and come back later when we are rested. Besides, I really should be getting to Port-au-Prince ASAP.”

  As they walked out, the nurse that set up the IV to replenish the blood loss asked the other surgeon what that was all about. He responded by saying that he was not sure, but that it is a good thing they were leaving before they killed someone.

  They made it back to their car and Pierre looked at Campbell for a few seconds, not speaking. He thought that what had happened was extremely weird for a doctor of any kind with so many years of experience, very weird. It was something that could not be explained in his head no matter how many times he went over it.

  After a very few more minutes of driving they reached the border. Pierre still in deep thought about the clinic incident focused his eyes through the heavy dust being produced by all the trucks and cars scrambling over the rocks and through the pot holes. Everyone there was wearing dust masks or hospital masks if they had one. He could finally see the guards at the border’s gate behind the long line of vehicles.

  “There it is, the border. Look through the dust if you can. I can hardly see between the dust and all this artificial lighting.”

  “Go slow.” Campbell said. He could not look at Pierre.

  “I have no choice, look at the road, it’s all big rocks. Now I know why the Haitians have a hard time coming into the Dominican Republic, look at those mountains, no one could climb them, and the pass is so small. Ok, get ready.”

  At the entrance, there were several Dominican soldiers with M16 rifles; they were opening the gates for truck after truck. All were wearing the cheapest mask ever made, basically worthless.

  There were people all over, selling out-dated food, old clothing and anything they could while others were moving boxes from truck to truck. “Just like the news said, total chaos,” Dr. Pierre said as he eased the car forward. “Look at all the kids; they are all over the place.” He inched forward another couple inches and conti
nued, “And they have no parents, they are the kids of the streets. It is terrible but you can buy one if you want.”

  “That is terrible,” Campbell agreed as he was thinking, “buy one, hum, never thought of that. Nah, don’t have time for any little shits, I like the bigger ones with money.”

  They jockeyed behind a large 18-wheeler truck that said “United Nations” on the side.

  “Great” Pierre said, “Where in hell is he going to go?”

  “Right there,” Campbell said and pointed.

  At that moment one of the guards flagged them around the truck and pointed them to go through the border gate. Pierre seized the moment. He went around as directed and continued to go through without looking anywhere but straight ahead. “Phew, that was stressful but was actually fairly easy,” Pierre said. “And we did not have to pay anyone off. Damn, look at the road, just as we expected, no road, just holes and ruts.”

  They drove most of the night on dirt and gravel roads going no more than about fifteen KPH. They shared the driving and they tried to get some sleep, each in their own turn but it was pretty miserable going. They never saw any hotels or restaurants so they ate from the supplies Pierre had brought, chewing thoughtfully. They were both wondering what would happen next. They drove on and on silently until the sun began to come up. Pierre sighed, “Wow, what a night that was. I never thought we would ever see daylight again.”

  “What was that we hit back there?” Campbell asked as he turned his head to look behind them. Perhaps he thought whatever it was would still be dragging behind them. Perhaps it was another posterior femoral artery following them and it was spraying blood everywhere!

  “I think it was a goat; but I’m not sure. At least I hope it was a goat. If it was not a goat it was a little kid and I wasn’t about to stop. Did you see the people coming out of the wood work to see what happened?”

  “Yeah, I did, and it looked like they were coming for us!” Then Pierre added, shaking his head in wonder, “This is a living hell here. Let’s get in and out as fast as we can; that is if we can.”

  Campbell almost yelled as he excitedly pointed a little to the right and straight ahead. “Look, a sign. We have only 10KM until Croix Des Bouquets it says ... and according to this old guide book there is supposed to be lodging there.”

  “God I hope there is.”

  “You call this a town?” Campbell asked a while later?” He had nothing but disbelief on his face. “And that is lodging?”

  They pulled over and got slowly out of the car, their muscles punishing them. They walked up to the entrance, or what looked like an entrance. Walking in they were assaulted by one bright light bulb. They both made the mistake of looking at it a little too long and as they moved forward they bumped blindly into a small desk. As their eyes came back to near normal they saw an old black lady sitting in a worn wooden chair. She is staring into nothing. Maybe she looked too long in the light bulb too Pierre thought. “What do you want?” she asks in broken English. “You are white. Why are you here?”

  Pierre answered in Spanish, “We want a room with a shower and we want to sleep for six hours. We do not want any trouble. We are going to help with the earthquake victims.

  She looked up and said, “a room and shower. Ain’t got a private anything. Water is on for one hour at eight am and one hour at eight pm. Want it? Roaches and mosquitoes are free.” She hacked a laugh at her own joke and spit into a dirty cup.

  “What time is it now?” Dr. Pierre asked. If his tired shoulders drooped any more he’d trip over them.

  “Seven-thirty AM.”

  “Yes we want it. How much?”

  “Three dollars ... American. And if you want a towel that is another fifty cents American for each.”

  “We want two ... two rooms and two towels”

  “OK, that’s eight dollars American. Go down the hall, the second ...”

  “Hey, you said three dol ...” Campbell stopped and shook his head. The old woman was laughing so hard she started a coughing fit ... big joke. “Ok gringo, seven dollars.”

  “Everyone’s a comedian I guess. Well, I’m in no mood! Just give us the keys.” he said with disgust.

  The woman reached behind her and grabbed two keys. “It’s the rooms on the right. The shower is outside on the left.” She looked totally pleased with herself.

  Pierre looked at Campbell and quietly asked, “Did you see the way those three locals were watching us?”

  “Yes,” Campbell replied out of the corner of his mouth. He continued, “Glad we have a gun and the money is under the battery. I’m thinking once they have the money they would kill us.”

  “After we wash you sleep first and then I will. Only a couple hours, ok?”

  “Yes,” Dr. Pierre said through a stifled yawn. “Just tell me when you are rested, OK?”

  Hours later, Pierre patted Campbell on the back and said, “Time to go.”

  Campbell, groggy, looked at Pierre and asked, “has it been two hours already?”

  “It’s been three, are you ready?”

  “Yeah, ready as I’ll ever be.” The yawning was contagious.

  19

  “Can you believe it? My own apartment,” Sherine screamed out loud to herself. “No devils, no problems, no sister, no sharing, NO EMOTIONS; all by myself.” The apartment was located near Cape Kennedy in Titusville. It was a few blocks off A1A near the Dixie Crossroads Restaurant. She had found a tiny two bedroom on the second floor of a small building that housed a realtor on the ground floor. It even had a small balcony overlooking the paved street below and she walked out onto it now to enjoy her domain.

  The balcony was big enough for two small chairs. She’d stuck a small wooden box up against the railing and dressed this up with an old slightly yellowed doily she’d actually found up in one of the closets. She used this as a small table.

  The view wasn’t much, but it was hers. To her right, she could see a narrow dirt road where cars had to pull over and wait for each other when they passed.

  Looking across the street she could see into the bathroom of one apartment and the bedroom of another. She shrugged and picked up a can of bud from her little table. She took a sip and continued talking to herself. “Well, if I can see them … but who cares? It’s a great apartment for the money, only five-fifty a month.”

  “Surely I can afford this,” she thought, “even without hustling the bikers or dating men for money.”

  The furniture was rough but it would do. In one corner sat a small leather chair; very worn, with a small lamp on a boxy table sitting next to it. She’d draped a pretty orange and green scarf over the lamp. Very Blanch DuBoise if you’d asked her. It was her favorite movie and she leaned toward the theatric in her debatable design sense.

  Next to them she had moved an old couch. It looked bad enough that it could be bug infested but Sherine hadn’t noticed any; nor did she have any bites after she woke from a nap she took when she first moved in. She knew they were a big problem in Florida so she wanted to be careful.

  “The main reason the apartment is perfect,” she thought as she finished her beer, “is that it’s not near Michelle and no one knows I’m here except Dirt Bag!” Catching the bus got her to work in Merritt Island in only twenty-five minutes if her old Mustang would not want to start. And, it was within walking distance to the biker bar where she could stop by at times and get rent money if she was running short. She grinned as she got up to go back inside, “those dumb-ass bikers!”

  Suddenly she remembered she had to work tomorrow. She chewed on a thumb nail and thought, “Oh damn, that’s right, I start tomorrow. I wonder what this crap is about having an appointment with that lawyer. He wants me to deliver his suit? Ha! Looked like he wanted me to deliver more than that!

  “This may be ok though. He was good looking and he had to be somewhat rich or he wouldn’t have been buying suits there! Maybe it’s show-time again.” She paused for a few moments, swaying back and forth in the sliding
glass doorway. “Let’s see, this may be the first rich guy that I meet. First of many I wonder? Just like mom taught me. A roof, food and money, except this time no emotions. Never again! Yup, I’m sure it´s show-time again! Only this time I´m playing for more than a measly few hundred dollars. I want to land a good one that will give me it all.”

  Sherine decided that what she needed right now was a few more beers and a couple Tanqueray and Tonics. She kept up her running inner-dialogue. It was almost as if there was two of her in the room. “That sounds good to me,” she thought as she poured a cold beer into a frozen glass. “Yup, I’m on my own now.

  I wonder what’s going on at the bar. Anyone ready for some pool?” Within a few minutes Sherine was looking her best; high heels, a little makeup, incredibly short skirt, tiny thong panties and an attitude that would make any man bow and scrape. As usual she was an angel with the heart of the devil spitting fire and on the prowl with nervously shaking legs and a pounding heart.

  As she was entering the bar, she heard a biker whisper loudly to his buddy sitting next to him, “Isn’t that the same bitch that kicked Jimmy’s ass last week?”

  “Hell ya, that’s her. Very cool … ,” Then he asked loudly, “Hey beautiful, what’s your game? Do you want to try me on?”