“Who took him?” I asked.
She waved her arms in the air wildly pointing all directions at once. “They! They!”
“The Army?”
“I’m not telling you. You.” She took a step forward. “You. Can’t get me to talk. No way.”
“Maybe I can help.”
She smiled at me a crooked smile, with missing teeth. “You can’t help. No one can help.” Her head swung low, shaking back and forth. “Nope. No help.”
“Why not?”
She swung her head up, so quickly that I thought the momentum would throw her head over heels on her back, and whispered, “Cause we’re already dead.” OK. This was getting bizarre. “Like on that show from when I was a kid. Umm. Ummm. Umm.”
“The X-Files?” I said, trying to help.
“No. No. No. The one with the island.”
I knew which show she meant. “Lost?”
She nearly jumped ten feet in the air and pointed, excitedly at me with crooked fingers. “Yes. Like Lost. All dead.”
“That’s not what happened on Lost. The plane crash didn’t kill them. They were on the island. They all survived. The ending is only confusing if you don’t realize that time doesn’t matter in the afterlife.”
She looked at me as if I spoiled her lunch. “What?”
“The ending only showed what happened after all of the survivors died at different times. Since, you know, we all die at some point. Sooner or later,” I said, while also wondering why am I discussing the end of a fifteen-year-old show in the middle of a refugee camp.
“Huh?” I lost her. She turned away from me and continued muttering to herself as she headed toward the interior of the camp, every now and then turning her head toward me, maybe afraid I would follow her. I watched her go with what must’ve been a goofy grin on my face.
One fragment of her rambling stuck in my mind as I continued with my expedition. Where did her husband disappear to? Typically, I would’ve chalked it up to a drug-addled mind, but I had seen a man dragged off against his will and I began to wonder if that situation was unfolding throughout the camp. Did her, no doubt, drug-fueled husband get dragged off to some unknown destination as well? If I had not seen what I saw, when I was the one dragging off unsuspecting men in the middle of the night, I probably would’ve ignored it. But, I couldn’t. It was there in my mind like a small splinter stuck on the bottom of my foot.
I arrived at my destination just before noon. The main intake tent for the camp. The one place I knew I would find Army personnel. At the opening of the tent facing the camp, I saw two FEMA persons, both were chatting with each other as I approached. They stopped talking as I approached.
“Can I help you?” the young blonde-haired man to the left of the opening said.
“I hope so,” I replied. “I am looking for the man in charge.” I laughed at myself internally after I said it. It was a ridiculous thing to ask. But, I was in a sarcastic mood, and it was worth it to see the blank expression on their faces as if I asked them to send me to the moon.
“I’m sorry what is this concerning?” the lovely brunette to my right asked.
“I have some questions that need answering about our tent?”
“We can help with that,” the male said. “What is it you need?”
“Was it the wind?” the female said.
“No. Not the wind. And no offense, but I don’t think you two are the ones in charge.”
“No. Maybe not. But we are authorized to help in any way we can,” the female brunette said. “What do you need with your tent?”
“I was hoping to discuss this with someone inside the tent your standing in front of.”
This seemed to throw them for a loop. Both looked at each other waiting for the other to take charge. “I am sorry that is not possible. This tent is for authorized personnel only,” the male said.
“Well, can’t you go inside and ask if someone would come out here and speak with me? Someone in charge? A boss maybe?” They both, again, looked at each other. They probably thought I was on drugs.
“The only people inside are part of the Army,” the female said.
“Perfect. That is exactly who I want to speak to.”
They were beginning to become annoyed with me. Tension began to creep into their facial expressions, and the tone of their answers became firmer.
“That is not gonna happen. They are only here for protection. Not for matters concerning your tent,” The male said.
“I think they are the people I want to speak to. You see, the problem with my tent is I want to leave it.”
“You want to move to another tent?” the naïve brunette asked.
“No. I want to leave the tent and all the tents in this fucking place. I want out of this camp.” The expression on their faces made this so much more fun than I anticipated. Their brows furrowed. Their eyes peered down to the ground. Both trying to find the correct answer from their training. “Come on. I can’t be the first one to ask?”
Before they could respond, a soldier burst out of the tent, looked at me and then to the young FEMA workers to each side of him. “What is going on?” He was about six feet, with what I guessed a permanent grimace on his young, yet mature, face.
“This man wants to talk to someone in the Army,” the brunette said.
“About what?”
I stepped up to him and said, “I was wondering if you guys had any plans for moving us out of this camp.”
He gave me a once over, then turned to the now cowering FEMA volunteers. “Move him along.”
“Aww. You don’t know either,” I said. “Can you at least let me talk to someone who does know what’s going on? A Major? Lieutenant? I don’t expect a private such as yourself to know the answers to such important questions.”
He had his back to me and was about to enter the tent, when he stopped and turned back to the brunette, “Get him out of here.” He then entered the tent in a pronounced movement, equivalent to slamming a door. The Army tent cloth gave no satisfaction.
The FEMA personnel now had their hands on their hips, wrapped around the taser gun I saw used a few days ago. “Sir, your gonna have to leave now,” the male said, losing all the niceties previously in his voice.
I raised my hands and backed away. “No need to get angry. I found all the answers I needed.” I bowed a mock bow while raising my left hand in the air in a flamboyant gesture. “Thanks for your help.” I turned and left.
That went about as well as I expected.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
11/22/2024 - 11/28/2024
For the next week, a routine was set. After breakfast, two groups went about in a grid-like fashion, trying to gather as much information from anyone that we could find. The other group stayed behind with the children. After lunch, the alternate team would head out. We did our best to not approach the same area twice.
What have we learned after a week on the job? Jack about squat. Oh, we learned what we already presumed. The FEMA volunteers oversaw the camp where it concerned organization, security, and procedures. The Red Cross and other non-profit organizations monitored the food, water and other supplies, such as clothing, blankets and the wonderful TV’s we all were to receive. The Army remained on the outside of the camp. Except at the intake tent or in emergency situations, like high winds knocking over lights. Or a disturbance inside the camp that needed a more powerful hand. Such as a brawl that erupted in section D, that everyone was talking about, yet no one had seen.
As for my part? I spent the afternoons walking the camp. I never went back to the intake tent. I passed the tent often but never attempted to discuss our request with anyone. I knew it was pointless. After dinner, we would all gather around inside one of our temporary homes, or outside, depending on the weather and discuss our daily inquiries.
On the Wednesday night before the scheduled Thanksgiving feast, we, again, were all outside, in the space between the two tents and were discussing that day’s investigat
ions. (When we first had these loud and sometimes boisterous discussions, I worried that Big Brother was not only watching, but listening. If they were listening, I am not sure they cared, because nothing came of it and after the second night I thought nothing more of it.)
The night was chilly, but refreshing, and lit by a nearly full moon. Jenna and Ethan said they talked to a lovely Red Cross lady in section BB, who empathized with their plight, but could only offer a “Well, if they have your request in the system, I am sure they will grant it soon.”
Drew and Alicia talked to multiple FEMA workers in section D, but all they got was, “Well, we can’t give you a timeframe, but I am sure there will be a movement towards a more permanent location forthcoming.” I am positive that was an interpretation of what was said since I can’t imagine one of the young FEMA volunteers using the word “forthcoming.”
Zero and Kaitlyn, an odd pairing for the day, that made me smile, reported that Zero tried, unsuccessfully, to hit on a young FEMA volunteer. Kaitlyn said, “I had to drag him away and apologize.”
“Hey, I was trying to get an in, with the enemy. You know, sleeping with the enemy, is the best way to get information,” Zero said. All the guys laughed, the women not so much. So, another day and night came and went, without any additional information gathered.
“We can’t keep going like this,” Drew said. “We are gonna get in trouble.”
“Trouble?” Zero asked, “We’re just asking questions.”
“Look around. This is not the place to ask questions. We may ask the wrong question to the wrong person and find ourselves disappeared.” I told the group about my encounter with the disturbed woman by the fence, and how she was looking for her husband. We also heard rumors from some of the other families in our section, specifically those we shared our eating times with about other people who had family members disappear.
“Those are just rumors,” Jenna said. “We don’t know if that is even true. Maybe they took that woman’s husband for health reasons. Nursed him and now he is back with his crazy wife.”
“Okay, maybe they are not stealing people in the middle of the night like Blake said what happened at the camp in Syria,” Drew said. “But, if we keep harassing people, it’s gonna get some attention, and attention is not what we need. It could eventually lead to people asking questions to the wrong person, and that may lead back to us.”
Drew may have stumbled over the meaning, but I knew where he was coming from. The last thing we needed to do was draw attention to ourselves.
“So, we just sit here and do fucking nothing?” Zero said. “Sit on our asses. Wait for our shiny new TV’s and for them to tell us how everything is great and sooner or later we may or may not be able to go.”
“No. That’s not what I mean. But, I do think we should pull back on our question asking,” Drew said.
At this Zero turned to storm away. “Hold on Zero,” I said. “I think Drew is right. We do need to stop harassing people who have about as much information as we do.”
Zero turned to me and said, “Then what do we do?”
“We keep our ears open. But, the questioning is getting us nowhere.”
“I can’t live like this,” Zero said, with a pleading note in his voice.
“I know. That doesn’t mean we stop trying to find a way out. But, we may have to change our tactic.”
“What do you suggest?” Drew asked. Jenna, Kaitlyn, and Alicia were quiet, seated on one of the cots that we brought out for these conversations. Ethan stood next to them, quiet as well.
“I don’t know. Not yet. For now, we need to hold off on the inquisition. Wait till after Thanksgiving dinner. Maybe there will be an announcement then. I doubt it. But, for now, just keep cool. We will think of something.”
I had nothing. It wasn’t too hard to sneak out of the camp in the middle of the night. But then what? Miles of the desert all around. We couldn’t just hop into Zero’s truck, without being seen at some point. We couldn’t walk to Utah. That was the reason the fence was only eight feet tall, they knew it was pointless to sneak out. So, I would have to think of an escape plan that could get us to the truck and out, without being seen and that would not get us all killed in the process. For now, I had nothing.
“Fine,” Zero said.
We heard tires pull up between the tents and for a brief second, I felt the fight or flight rush of adrenaline. I saw it was a golf cart and two FEMA volunteers. One of them exited the cart with a clipboard in hand. Connected to a hitch on the back of the golf cart was a small wheeled platform and on the platform, was a collection of small rectangle boxes.
“You all in tents thirty-six?” he asked. In the dark, it was difficult to discern facial details.
“Yes, thirty-six and thirty-seven,” Alicia said. “What’s going on?”
“We have your TV’s to install,” he said, with a goofy grin.
“Okay. Go for it,” Zero said. The man stood still for a second, maybe waiting for a thank you or a tip. When none was forthcoming, he turned around and went back to the cart. Alicia went inside her tent to get the children, who had been inside during our conversation.
Twenty minutes later, we found ourselves seated inside the Welles family tent staring at a thin thirty-inch TV mounted on one of the tent poles to the left of the entrance. Broadcasting on the television was an episode of the show Friends, “The one with...” whatever. There was no remote, and we had to walk to the TV to adjust the volume and turn it off. We complained, ever since they were announced, about the TV’s and how it was just a distraction to keep us placated. Well, it seemed to work. As we watched, all our cares and worrying were replaced by laughter. After Friends, we watched an episode of How I Met Your Mother, followed by Blackish, Modern Family, and Joe’s Life After. I knew it was no coincidence they were all sitcoms. Who wants to watch a serious drama in these circumstances? At ten o’clock the TV announced it was time for curfew and the programming would resume at 7 a.m. As I went back to my tent, I couldn’t help but feel guilty. Yet, it did feel good to sit down with everyone and just have fun. It was a remarkable thing that such a simple device could make everyone feel better. Ominously, I knew that was exactly the point.
By noon the next day, the mood had changed for the better. Or for worse depending on perspective. Even Zero, who was so adamant about not selling out to our TV providing overlords, was in a cheerful mood after a morning cartoon dose of Steven Universe, which was one of our favorite shows throughout our senior year in high school.
As we waited for lunch time, another announcement was made over the invisible loudspeakers. “Good afternoon residents of Zone C,” Residents? “As you all know today there will be a Thanksgiving feast at 5 p.m., in every section.” There was a slight pause. “To clarify a few things. Everyone will eat at times printed on your I.D. cards. The five o’clock celebration will be a special presentation and announcement, celebrating this American holiday. You can view this presentation at every mess hall or from the comfort of your own tent on the televisions provided. Don’t worry if you don’t make it down to your mess hall at five, there is plenty of fantastic food for all, during your designated time periods.” Another awkward silence. “Thank you. And have a good day.”
Zero, who had been sitting on the floor watching Full House, with the children, along with Alicia and Kaitlyn, was the first to speak. “What the fuck was that about?”
Alicia punched Zero in the arm and said, “Please watch the language.” The kids didn’t seem to notice, as the audio from the regularly scheduled program had returned. Drew, Jenna, and Ethan had gone for a walk.
“I think they had second thoughts about having everyone gathered in one place after the brawl in one of the other sections,” I said.
“Did that really happen?” Alicia said.
“Who knows,” I replied. “Either way, if it did or didn’t. I think after the foul mood in the camp over the past week, they didn’t want to risk it.”
Zero who a
sked the question in the first place was now laughing with the kids about something Uncle Joey was doing, so I went outside, and Alicia followed. Kaitlyn stayed inside, not watching TV, instead appeared lost in her own thoughts.
“We gonna go?” Alicia said once we were outside in the sun.
“I don’t see why, if we can stay here,” I said. “I guess once everyone gets back we can discuss it, but I don’t see the point.” She did not follow up. “Well we have lunch in a half hour, then showers between two and three. So that will keep us busy. You plan on showering, right?” She didn’t have to answer; the raised eyebrow was enough. “Right,” I said.
“Also plan on doing some laundry while there.”
“Good.”
At lunch, we all agreed to skip the Thanksgiving festivities. We would head down to the mess hall at our usual dinner time. Lunch was another ham or chicken sandwich depending on preference. The main difference was the smell drifting from the many trailers behind the mess hall: Turkeys in ovens. And the smell was a dose of aromatic nirvana.
The showers in the camp were just off the mess hall on the north side. Made of wood, they reminded me of a dressing room, at a department store. A door, that opened to a two by six area, with a bench and hooks along the wall to hang your clothes. On the left, another entryway to the four by six shower. It was well made and provided decent privacy. Our shower days were Thursday and Sundays, two to three in the afternoon. Some poor souls had 9 p.m. or even worse 6 a.m. shower times. So, we counted ourselves lucky. Usually, there was a line, but we never waited more than fifteen minutes. We estimated about twenty-five people were assigned each hour.
Outside the shower was a FEMA rep who would scan our ID cards and hand out fresh towels. On this day, it was a young woman, who wore a permanent smile like most of the FEMA volunteers. Drew and his entire family were about to enter together.
The Ending is Everything Page 17