Carla arrived at the shanties shortly after seven that morning, a formidable day coordinating the distribution of food, clothing, medicine, and information ahead of her, even with the help of Eunice Prendergrast’s network. Time was also going to be an issue; when the Square got going sometime in the late afternoon, everything else would stop.
Carla grew increasingly troubled as the morning wore on. The truck arrived with clothes, and Eunice’s women were ready with distribution lists, but the scene inside the shanties was making deliveries nearly impossible. The narrow lanes hummed with the movement, not of children, but of adults carrying loads or calling out to this person or that, making plans. Many people weren’t in their shacks, and the women just left the clothes in the hopes that the occupant would return to get them.
“Are all these people going to leave?” Carla asked Eunice as they stood outside Eunice’s shack drinking her thick coffee.
Betty Askins, who had been assembling the children and adults in need of medicine or vaccines in the Square, arrived, looking stricken.
“The kids, they’re in the Square?” Carla asked.
Betty nodded. Eunice ducked into her shack to get Betty a cup of coffee.
Betty whispered so that Eunice could not hear her. “I can’t believe that people are abandoning the Community because of a dream; a superstition.” Betty was trembling with frustration.
Carla nodded, having no words.
Eunice returned with the coffee, and the three women drank in silence amid the chaos around them. Finally Eunice said, “Betty, are you coming to the Square? It may be the last time.”
Betty looked at her.
“Come to the Square, dear,” Eunice said. “You’ll see why you’re not really one of us.”
* * *
Frings arrived. Carla watched him approach, the sweat darkening his jacket, running down his face; the exhaustion in his pouchy eyes. Something else, too—a grimness to him.
Frings greeted Betty and Eunice with tight nods, met Carla’s eyes. Carla said, “Excuse us for a minute. Dr. Berdych should be getting to the Square soon. I’ll meet you there.”
Frings escorted Carla gently by the forearm down the alley. She let herself be guided, concerned by what she sensed in Frings. They found a gap between two shanties and slipped in. It was tight and the sun reflecting off the tin walls made it almost unbearably hot.
“What is it, Frank?”
Frings put his hands on her shoulders and told her.