“Don’t push me,” she said. “Let my husband go!”
“Ma’am. Please back up. We will sort this out.” I could see the eyes of the FEMA volunteers, widen at the sight of the growing throng. A group began shouting for them to let the woman’s husband go.
From behind us, we heard a truck approach, Alicia and I turned around and saw a military vehicle approaching. We moved aside to let it pass. As it pulled up six Army soldiers jumped out the back, with their rifles ready. The crowd instantly backed up.
Two soldiers approached the two men on the ground and grabbed them each by their elbows and stood them up. The FEMA officer administering first aid said something to the soldier, but the soldier appeared to ignore him. The soldiers began walking the two men away, toward the truck.
“Where are you taking him?” the wife asked. She tried to follow but was blocked by a soldier. He didn’t say anything, just stood in front of the woman motionless. “Let me go.” No response. She tried to push past him, but the soldier grabbed her by the elbow and, with a curt shove, flung her into the dirt. The rifle was then pointed at her. She began to cry in the dirt. Others came to her aid, trying to get her back to her feet, but she just sat there, tears streaming down her face, hands digging into the dirt. Then the soldier turned and climbed into the back of the truck with the other soldiers and the two prisoners. The FEMA volunteers were already in their golf carts, speeding away. Finally, the Army truck started up and headed north.
The whole incident took five minutes.
“Where do you think they took them?” Alicia asked.
“I don’t know,” I said.
We continued on our way. But the appeal of the hike had left our steps. The incident was on my mind. How did they respond so quickly? Surveillance cameras? I looked around and saw nothing that would indicate a camera. So, I asked Alicia, “Do you see any cameras anywhere?”
“No,” she said, looking to and fro. “Why?”
“FEMA responded almost immediately. They had to have seen.” We both looked around again. We saw tents. Signs indicating tent numbers or sections, nothing on the fences.
“I don’t see any, but that don’t mean much. Cameras today are so small they could be anywhere and everywhere,” Alicia said.
“Yeah. I think they are everywhere.”
We stood still for a second. I wondered if Big Brother was watching us now. Wondering what this young, brown-haired man and red-haired woman were doing wandering along their fence line.
“We should head back,” Alicia said, probably battling her own bout of paranoia.
“Yeah. I don’t think there is any more to learn about the camp. The fence is the same the whole perimeter.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
11/19/2024
Two nights later, there was no sleeping for anyone in the camp. The Santa Ana winds had returned with a vengeance and were blowing desert sand and dirt high into the air. Finding cracks and crevices to push their cold and dust filled breath into every tent.
I found myself snuggling up to Kaitlyn underneath the thick cotton, Army green, blanket, to keep warm. No longer in our comfortable positions after an awkward encounter the previous morning, when my friend below my waist stiffened in the morning and woke her with a poke in the back. Now, we were back to back. It was enough to feel her warmth radiating from her body and into mine.
I heard someone stirring, and then the lamp in the center of the tent flicked on, casting a pale blue light around the tent. My eyes picked up the change in light as a glow behind my closed eyelids was visible.
“Fuck me.”
My eyes flickered open at the voice. I saw Zero standing straight in the blue light, and all around him was a fog of dirt. Dust particles flying in the air as the winds battered and shook the whole tent. The sound was akin to a group of annoying teenagers dancing around the tent hitting the canvas exterior with their fist all at once.
The lantern in the center of the tent was a circular device that was permanently attached to the center table. It also doubled as a heater, and the warmth felt wonderful as the winds depressurized the tent with frigid air.
I slowly swung my legs over the edge of the cot and sat assessing the situation. Zero was moving suitcases to the northeast corner of the tent. A smart move. I arose and grabbed my bag and drug it over to the corner with the others.
Soon, my eyes adjusted, coherent thought returned, and I saw how bad the dirt infiltration had become. My mouth could taste it, and my eyes began to sting. The culprit was the tents one flaw. While the tent was one heavy-duty cloth wrapped around sturdy tent poles, where it connected with the ground was not sturdy. There was no floor, except the desert dirt. A cheap twenty-dollar tent would’ve had a plastic floor. Not these tents. The wind was flowing beneath the tent with flapping pieces of cloth creating the loud music.
Zero was attempting to stop this infiltration by placing the suitcases along the bottom edges. It wasn’t easy, as the cloth had to be pulled straight down and stretched to its limit before a suitcase could be placed on top of its bottom edge. We spent ten minutes with different configurations until we had the bags piled high, creating a small wall at the northeast edge of the tent. We spoke not a word. Just grunts and pointing.
I attempted to go back to bed, and after playing around with the light, we figured out a way to leave the heater on and dim the light to its lowest setting. The warmth felt good. I asked Kaitlyn if she wanted to switch positions so she could be on the side facing the heater. She just shook her head and hid beneath the blanket. Only the top of her brown hair was visible.
It was no use attempting to sleep. While we had stymied most of the dirt from entering the tent, the noise was unbearable. When a large gust arrived, the tent shook, and I feared the whole contraption would come tumbling down on top of us. Every instance of sleep was awoken instantly by a gust of that foul wind.
By morning I was exhausted. Five minutes of sleep here and five minutes of sleep there. The winds had been relentless and seemed to have picked up their pace by the dawn. I looked at my watch seated on the edge of the cot. It was 6:42 a.m. I stretched a bit and saw Jenna staring at me. She and Ethan were sleeping back to back. The blanket was pulled up to the curve of her bottom lip, and the exposed parts of her face had a thin layer of dirt. When she pulled the blanket down, you could clearly observe a line just below her nose. I gave a quick smile, and she smiled back but did not get up. Was my face also covered in dirt? I touched my forehead with my forefinger and looked at the residue on the tip of my finger. Everyone was coated in the desert sand.
I grabbed my jacket and stepped outside the tent. The decibel difference was like walking out of a loud club. Inside the tent the sound was constant. Outside, the noise was all around but less intense. The sun was just peaking over the eastern skyline behind the small hill that led into the valley of our imprisonment.
To my left, twenty tents down, I saw several FEMA personnel and many residents attempting to put a tent back together. A golf cart drove toward me from that direction with two more FEMA officers in tow. A strong gust of wind almost tipped the little cart over, but the driver kept his cool and kept it steady. I stepped aside as the vehicle passed.
I pulled my beanie down lower on my head. All around the camp similar scenes were unfolding. Tents collapsed, people trying to get the tent upright, and poles back into the ground. Some were with FEMA help, others on their own. I stopped and helped a family whose tent had collapsed on the north side. I didn’t say much, just helped. They thanked me, and I went on my way.
When I reached the edge of the camp and saw the fence, I found another emergency scenario unfolding. Half the large lights that surrounded the camp had been toppled by the wind. Soldiers swarmed the area like ants around a fallen candy bar. Many trying to put the lights back up, others just appeared to be checking the fence, for any insecurities. One soldier caught me watching and nodded. I nodded back and turned around.
By lunchtime, the winds had
died down. The camp began to operate as normal. Since we had skipped breakfast, our little band was eager to eat. Huddled together we now, officially, looked like refugees. Dirt was caked all over our faces. Jenna had that dirt line framing her face. The children looked like they had played in the dirt all morning, dirt streaks streaming down their face from where they must’ve been crying. Even Zero seemed to have a permanent frown on his face. Looking around, the rest of the residents appeared to have the same look. Even the Red Cross volunteers looked miserable. Good thing our scheduled shower day was tomorrow.
“I’m going to sleep in Alicia’s tent with her family from now on,” Said Kaitlyn, as we waited in line, standing behind me. It wasn’t surprising, but the timing was.
I turned around and smiled. “I understand.” I did. It was one thing to sleep in the same bed in extraordinary circumstances. It was quite another to begin to develop a routine. I felt the change over the past few days. Comfort. Love. It was the practical and rational thing to do. Yet, I felt a sting down in the deepest depths of my tired heart. I missed her, and I forgot how much I had loved her, until these days together.
“You sure?” she asked.
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
“Okay,” she said.
We had reached the front of the line. Ham sandwiches, a bag of chips and bottled water. Nothing more, nothing less. We ate in silence, on a dust covered table and chairs, at the back of the mess hall. Every now and then a gust would arrive, not as destructive as that morning, but enough that it had all of us reaching for our paper plates to make sure they didn’t fly across the table and into the desert.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” Zero said breaking the silence. I had not thought about what it must’ve been like for a free bird like Zero to be stuck in this monotonous camp routine. I spent years in a routine. It was a way of life in the military. Zero had no such discipline. He came and went as he desired. If he didn’t like a job, he left. If he wanted to go to Vegas, he went. He was also alone. I had Kaitlyn or at least I did. Jenna and Ethan had a long friendship and now seemed closer than ever. Zero had all of us, yet none of us.
“Easier said than done,” Alicia said.
“What about demanding they let us go? We’ve got some place to go. We told them so when we got here. Why keep us, if we don’t want to be here,” Zero said.
“We could ask them?” Kaitlyn said and hesitated before continuing. “But, who do we ask? I don’t think the FEMA people would know or care. I have only seen a few soldiers.”
Ethan interrupted, “It’s as if they are all in charge, yet none of them are.”
Another blast of wind interrupted our conversation, and it was our time to move on anyways, we had to make room for the one-thirty lunch crowd, so we went back to our tent and piled everyone inside.
“Who do we go to then?” Alicia said. “The Army, FEMA, Red Cross?”
“All of them,” Zero said. “I don’t give a shit. Take a shot at all of them and see if we can get out of here.”
I had remained silent. I knew, intimately, that it was futile. The camp was designed with multiple divisions so not one of them could be held accountable or could know all the answers. If we asked FEMA, they would pass us on to the Army. The Army back to FEMA. And the Red Cross would direct us to either one.
“Let’s set up a plan then,” Drew said, seated on one of the cots, next to Alicia. The kids, while providing no ideas themselves, were preoccupied in the corner playing tic tac toe. A game they must’ve just picked up, since kids born in the twenty-tens did not play games with a stick and dirt, yet there they were. I was standing by the entrance. Jenna and Kaitlyn on the cot to my left. Drew and Ethan to my right. If someone walked in, they would’ve thought I was giving some sort of sermon. Yet, I was the one silent.
“We all try and talk to someone from each branch,” Alicia said. “Army, FEMA, and Red Cross. Try and find out who the bosses are and we can go from there. We should be able to find out who is in charge for each branch and then we can talk to them about getting out of here. Or at least if they have a plan for us.”
“Good,” Zero said.
“Okay. How do we want to attack this?” Alicia said, looking at each of us. Unfortunately, I had already checked out. I would go along with whatever their plan was. I knew it wouldn’t work. But, for the first time since we arrived, I heard something in their voices, that I did not want to take away. Hope.
After much deliberation, assignments were handed out. Since I was in the Army, it was my job to try and find out information about the distribution of power here at the camp from someone in the Army. I argued for a bit, saying that because I was in the Army, I should not be the one looking for information from the Army. This did not make sense to the rest of them.
“Do you think there is a chance?” Kaitlyn asked me, a few hours later, alone in the tent together.
“It might,” I said.
“That’s what I thought,” she said, reading between the lines. It was a familiar feeling. We could always talk to each other without saying what we meant, and yet we would always understand the truth behind the lies.
“I’m sorry. It’s just, I think we have to accept that we are not getting out of here unless we force our way out.”
Kaitlyn raised an eyebrow and nodded. I began to walk away when she grabbed me around my waist and pulled me into a crushing hug.
“I’m glad I am here with you.”
“Me too. But, that’s selfish. You should be with your family.”
“I miss my baby girl.”
“I know.”
“Damn Jeff and his stupid work trip, that I just had to tag along with.” She pulled away, her arms still around my waist, and stared into my eyes. I could feel the stirring in my heart again. She was always so beautiful with those full green eyes. “Yeah. I think it’s better that we don’t sleep in the same bed anymore.” She pulled away, averting her eyes.
Echoing across the camp came a voice, a loud male voice and in surround sound. “Zone C residents. This is your weekly update.” The voice seemed to be coming from everywhere, yet nowhere in particular. “I know it’s been a tough week or for that matter a tough month. But, we do have some good news. Next week on Thursday. It will be Thanksgiving. And in honor of this uniquely American holiday, we will be serving a special turkey dinner. And gathering at 5 p.m. in all your individual sections for a celebration. To repeat, a special Thanksgiving dinner will be prepared at 5 p.m., on Thursday the twenty-eighth, for all residents in each section.” Kaitlyn and I looked at each other with the same expression, one raised eyebrow and crinkled brows that expressed a cynicism that almost made me laugh out loud. “In other good news, and one that I am sure every one of you will appreciate. Each tent will be provided with a television. That’s right, each tent will be getting a TV which will broadcast news, movies and TV shows broadcast directly to you. Only one channel, but better than nothing, right? That is all for this week. Thanks, and have a good day!”
The execution of the announcement reminded me of high school, during homeroom, when the annoying PA system would announce school news, that no one cared to hear. But, the damn voice was always so excited to announce the band would be selling candy bars for a fundraiser.
Kaitlyn and I looked at each other, wondering what strange planet we landed on. A television? Why? No news on what is going on in the outside world? Who attacked us? Did we counter attack? Are there any plans to move us to a more permanent location? To let us go on our merry way? Any actual news? Instead? Thanksgiving dinner and a fucking TV for our tents.
“What the hell is going on?” Kaitlyn asked.
“Keep the local systems in line,” I said.
“What?”
“It’s from Star Wars. Except instead of using fear to keep us in line, they will use distractions.” I forgot Kaitlyn was not as ingrained in the world of Star Wars as I was. “My guess is they felt the depression going through camp this morning and wanted to give eve
ryone a lift.”
“Smart,” she said.
Yes, it was, I thought. Zero entered the tent in a huff, and smacked his hand on my shoulder and said, “This doesn’t change a thing, right?”
“Not that I could see,” I said.
“Good. I’ll be damned if they buy me off with a fucking TV.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
11/21/2024
Two days later, I found myself alone, attempting to follow through on Zero’s plan. But, finding anyone in the Army to speak with was becoming a mission unto itself. They just did not show themselves in the camp. I spent the morning walking the perimeter and saw not one fatigue-clad individual.
I set off by myself, despite my insistence we go everywhere in pairs, thanks to the uneven number of adults and wanting to be alone. The last six months of my life I spent by myself, except when I was at work, which I may as well had been. Being cramped in the tents, with, now, three other people was exhausting. A man needs his space.
As I approached section A (northeast corner of camp), I saw a woman talking to herself or to the exterior fence. She wore a filthy jacket that was tucked into her dirty jeans on her right hip. She turned toward me as I approached. Her face was still covered in dirt from Tuesday’s wind storm. Her eyes darted around me, up and down, as if giving me an x-ray. Then she turned her whole body swiftly in my direction. It was a jerky turn as if her arms and torso understood the command before the rest of her body.
“Have you seen my husband?” she asked as she approached. I thought about the question for a second and almost laughed at the absurdity of it.
“Not that I’m aware of. What does he look like?” Maybe I had.
“Oh, you know,” she said and cocked her head sideways, looking at me with only her left eye. “Are you military?”
“No.”
“You look military?”
“Do I?”
“Hmm,” she said. Growing up in the Inland Empire and in a mobile home park, one tends to recognize a person under the influence of drugs. Or, as on this occasion, one on the influence of withdrawal. She could not stand still. One leg kept moving up and down. She would switch eyes to give me a look. Right eye. A pause. A head turn. Left eye. One arm always grabbing the other arm, again in an alternating pattern. “I know they took him.”
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