Chapter 4
“Let me get you some hospital sheets and a couple pillows. You can return them when you get your own stuff. I don’t fault Dr. Black for not saying anything; I’m sure he has no idea how strapped for supplies we are out here. The trailers are pretty bare—only the basics—but the fridge, stove and microwave are new. We just don’t have the electricity to run them—not fulltime and only after a generator is fired up. So, right now, they’re just nice to look at. Each trailer does have a propane tank for the stove. At least that’s something.” The woman who seemed to belong to the desk in trailer one laughed. She had introduced herself as Trini Lovato, Administrative Assistant to the FEMA appointed logistics marshal. Probably forty-something with a messy bun on top of her head of shiny black hair, Trini was holding a phone to her ear with one hand while the other was rummaging through the top drawer of a file cabinet.
“I know I put the keys to the supply trailer in here somewhere. We’ll get you all set up. I really should be apologizing but we’ve been promised water and electricity late tomorrow. Fingers crossed that’s not a fib. We’re so indebted to Dr. Black for sending people to help. I don’t want you to think the only thing I can do is bitch. I really mean it when I say thank you for coming.”
“I want to help. We’ll be fine; I have my eleven-year-old son with me and it will be a great experience for him.”
“Camping like he’s never seen it before.” She chuckled. “He’ll survive. Kids are so much better at adapting than we are.”
“I tend to believe you, but I’d feel better if I knew how I was going to get groceries.”
“Oh, I’m glad you reminded me, the supply truck will be going into Gallup tomorrow. Make a grocery list and the driver will pick up what you need. If you can have the list to me by nine in the morning, he’ll pick it up before he leaves and should have your order to you by mid-afternoon. Now, let me see which trailer I’ve put you in. Trailer three. Come with me; I’ll walk you over.”
Zac had jumped out of the truck to join them by the time they’d walked across the open area and passed trailer two.
“Here we are—home sweet home and in the front row. You’re lucky getting in here a day early. By tomorrow, all thirty trailers will have occupants. We’re having to squash families of four or five into two-bedroom trailers—the relatives of those being hospitalized—their own communities so riddled with disease that they need a place of safety. And I’ve been told we can expect our second wave of virus patients—another twenty-five this afternoon. That first hospital tent is already full and the second will be a hive of activity soon. And, I’m sorry to say, it will instantly fill to capacity. We just can’t stay ahead of the illness.”
Ben liked being in the front row and not stuck a few trailers deep. He could only imagine this place once it became populated. “I can see why getting the electricity connected is a high priority.”
“Absolutely. Right now generators are saving our bacon, but they’re only meant to be short term and for back-up when needed. Here, I’ll get the door.” She pulled a ring of keys out of her pocket, slipping two off and unlocking the front door before turning to Ben. “Here you go, keys to the front door and back door. No rules about locking up—probably no reason to out here. We’re all working together for a common cause. I think we can be trusted.”
“Does anyone have a bike I could borrow?” Zac stepped up beside Ben.
“Bikes for transportation aren’t nearly as plentiful as horses. And horses make more sense. Say you fall off somewhere a ways from camp; that horse will always come home to eat, letting everyone know something happened. Are you a rider?”
“I’ve been on a horse once.” Ben could tell Zac wasn’t too excited about relying on a horse to get around.
“Well, I’m sure we can find you one to learn on. I’ll put the word out.”
“That would be great, wouldn’t you agree, Zac?” Ben got a very tepid nod in return.
“Let’s make sure everything’s in order.” Trini pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The single-wide was more of a modular than a trailer—sturdier, for one thing. And it was clean. Ben was surprised. He had pretty much counted on borrowing cleaning equipment and spending an exciting first evening just getting the place ready to move in, but outside of a little dust that had seeped in under the door, the place sparkled.
As if she could read his mind, Trini added, “It looks pretty good. It’s been disinfected and you’ll find a generous stash of Clorox wipes and hand disinfectant under the sink. Make yourselves at home. I’ll be back with the linen.” She left the door open, and Ben watched as she headed toward the office. Trini was thin, sinewy, with the long and lean body of a runner. From the back, a couple of tendrils of her black hair had escaped the bun to dangle past her shoulders. But it was her jewelry that caught his eye. It was spectacular—rows of pin shell heishe that belied a Pueblo heritage, interspersed with hand-carved Zuni fetishes of bone, amber, and semi-precious stones. In the center was a string of round, etched, hand-made, sterling silver beads graduating in size from a penny to a quarter. His grandmother used to call necklaces like that, ‘Navajo Pearls’.
Ben turned to Zac. “What do you think?”
“Makes me think I’m in Alaska—you know, tiny houses?”
Ben smiled. “I hadn’t thought of that.
You’re right, these would fit right in. So which bedroom do you
want—your choice.”
“Can I have the bedroom in front with the window and the bunk
beds?”
“It’s yours. Want to help me bring our stuff in?” The second bedroom had a queen-sized bed—much more appropriate if Julie ever visited. Ben smiled. Bunk beds wouldn’t really have worked out.
In addition to their two suitcases and a box of patient files that Dr. Black would be picking up, was the last of their lunch fixings—half a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, one of strawberry jam, chips, and another bag of stale Ritz crackers. Looked like this would have to do for dinner also.
Trini delivered the sheets and towels and had a young maintenance man bring over a cooler with ice, soft drinks and a half gallon of milk. “I begged a box of Cheerios off of Oscar here. He just got back from town so the ice should keep overnight and the milk will still be fresh. Don’t forget to get me your grocery list. Here’s a flashlight, and I’ll have Oscar fire up the generator so you’ll have lights tonight.” With that she was gone.
“Is there a TV?”
“No, we may not have reception out here.” Ben was glad he’d charged up their phones in the truck before they got to the camp. No electricity was beginning to become a problem. Oscar reported that the generator that would get them by didn’t seem to have gas. He’d check into it in the morning. And he wasn’t sure that the promise that there would be broadband support had been entirely truthful either. When he checked a map for T-Mobile on his phone, it showed only eighty-five percent of the reservation had service. If they didn’t have service, he wouldn’t have to listen to Raven and hear what a bad parent he was for endangering their son.
But there was enough power for Raven’s call to get through and between her yelling and tears, Ben was finally able to assure her that the situation on the highway was a fluke. They were now safe in camp and would continue to be safe. Zac talked to his mother and then handed the phone back so Ben could promise a call a day--if the electricity was turned on and they could charge their phones, and if they had more than half a bar of available service; otherwise, he said he’d make a trip into civilization and make sure they connected and she got an update. Appeased, or giving up—Ben couldn’t tell which—Raven hung up.
Ben walked out to the truck to call Julie. Amazing how clear the air was—not even a hint of the sandstorm just a couple hours before. Without clouds, the sky simply sparkled. He was tempted to stop and try to name some constellations, but it was getting late and tomorrow promised to be busy. He’d make a note to look up some material on star formations. Star-gazing might be a fun thing to do with Zac.