Carla had come to expect a certain pace to the activity in the shanties—a certain pitch to the noise, a certain number of people in the narrow alleys. This day, though, the shanties were different—busier, louder, but also something less tangible—an urgency she hadn’t sensed in the past.
The air was beginning to develop the grasping heat of late morning. Humidity rose off the weeds and concrete, and Carla felt her skin flush, sweat dampen her forehead. A group of young men stood at the intersection of two alleys, passing a reefer between them. Carla recognized Billy Lambert, his face less swollen, among the group. It was funny, she thought, she hadn’t realized he was part of the Samedi group.
She waved to the men and they mostly waved back, recognizing her from past visits. She walked on into the maze, surprised to see the number of people and the purpose with which they moved. She walked sideways, hugging the walls for long stretches to avoid colliding with others carrying small farm animals, children, baskets of goods. Chatter came in quick patois bursts, the pitch somehow alarming. Even the menace that she so often felt walking through the shanties—or any other desperately poor place—alone, even this was different. The young men who so often seemed dangerous were preoccupied, not even noticing Carla. The place smelled of smoke from pungent wood. It felt like a prelude to an evacuation—or a siege.
Eunice Prendergrast met Carla outside her shack, her round face drawn with stress. Betty Askins’s mouth was a tight line. None of the other usual women seemed to be around.
“Eunice, what’s happening here?” Carla asked.
Betty Askins answered, her voice quavering as she tried to suppress her rage. “There’s a rumor going around that Father Womé dreamed that the Community burned to the ground. People are preparing to leave.”
Eunice wouldn’t meet Carla’s eyes. “There’s a ceremony in the Square tomorrow. We’ll be asking the lwa for protection.”
Betty gave an exasperated sigh and looked to Carla. “We need to do what we can today and tomorrow. Food, medicine, clothing; whatever we had planned, we need to do it before tomorrow night.”
Eunice nodded. “After the Square, I don’t know what will happen.”
A group of children slowed as they passed Eunice’s house, walking with backs straight and chins high. Once past, they ran again, laughing.
“You’ve got them trained well,” Betty said.
Eunice didn’t so much as smile. Carla made a mental list of contacts she’d have to make, people she would have to coax into action, to speed up their charitable efforts.
“I’ll send someone back later,” Carla said, “with an idea about when different things can be scheduled. Then you two can get your people to spread the word. We’ll do everything we can before tomorrow night.”
Eunice smiled grimly. “I’m worried about the Community. I’m worried this could end very quickly.”
Carla nodded. “I know.”