Chapter 33

 

 

It promised to be a crazy, busy day. Ben had checked his itinerary at least three times while eating breakfast. It was five-thirty in the morning. He had to be in Albuquerque by eight-thirty in order to get Nathan to the airport by nine for an eleven o’clock flight. Then, lunch at noon at the Indian Hospital—a catered affair of tacos with all the trimmings. Every indication was that they could easily expect seventy-five to a hundred Pueblo volunteers to show up and offer their services to help with Chief Billie’s search and rescue plan for the Navajo reservation. They just might run out of tacos.

Then, allowing extra time to get to Santa Fe, Ben would be back on I-25 by one-thirty for the three o’clock meeting with Governor Lujan. It would be tight but he’d allowed a spare half-hour here and there for the unforeseen—which usually meant traffic problems.

“Ben, look.” Nathan had just opened the front door after dragging a stuffed suitcase from the bedroom. Everything and anything that Zac had left behind, from a catcher’s mitt and several t-shirts, to a relatively new down jacket was on its way to being returned.

“There.” Nathan was pointing to the light dusting of silt that covered half of the porch. Right in the center was the imprint of two pointed-toed hooves.

“You know what Zac would call this?”

Nathan nodded. “Yeah, ghost dust. And he’s sort of right. The Pronghorn Antelope is the mark of my uncle. I think he’s saying goodbye. I think he’s saying it’s okay for me to go.”

“He wants you to have a good life.”

Ben felt a moment of relief. Had another Skinwalker taken over the persona of Nathan’s uncle? Maybe. Still, the ghostly imprint seemed positive. More than one person wanted Nathan to succeed. Now Ben wouldn’t worry about Nathan leaving his home, this last symbol of the break made things easier, positive and hopeful.

Once he started his new life, there would be no looking back, Ben believed that. Both Raven and Zac would be meeting Nathan’s flight about the time Ben would be taking off for Santa Fe. Zac had been beside himself. He must have called Nathan five times since he’d found out that his friend would be joining him.

“I’ll be right back. I want to say good-bye to Trini. I think her grandsons might like Apache and Rain. I want them to have a good home.”

Ben had wondered what he would do with two horses, but giving them to Trini was a great idea. He picked up Nathan’s suitcase and headed toward the truck.

 

* * *

 

Ben relaxed for an hour at the airport with Nathan and a third cup of coffee to wash down a sugary pastry. In a weird sort of way, Ben was envious of Nathan’s situation—a new life, a family to give him support, schooling that would prepare him for college if he chose to go. Ben hoped he’d assured Nathan that he was always welcome to visit him and Julie wherever they might be. Any sustained conversation was interrupted by more calls from Zac, who simply couldn’t contain his excitement. Finally, it was time for Ben to head to the Indian Hospital. A handshake turned into a hug and a heartfelt “thank you.” Nathan adjusted his mask, pretending like something had fallen in his eye and it wasn’t tears threatening to spill over his lower lids. A last wave and Ben turned to go.

 

* * *

 

The moment Ben turned off of Central and onto Vassar Street, he knew the chief’s project was going to be a success—the hospital parking lot was overflowing. No one had talked about maybe having to turn people away, and he doubted that would happen. They could probably use as many able bodies as volunteered. The lack of tacos would be their only problem.

The chief had set up five, six-foot long tables for signing up—each line correctly spaced, both at the table and while waiting. It wasn’t a long wait before each person gave his name, phone number, e-mail address if he or she had one, and preferred days to work. Most were putting down ‘whatever needed’, Ben noted. Each applicant also received a booklet of maps of the reservation outlining the proximity of clusters of houses, schools, clinics and various landmarks like upper and lower pastures and wooded areas. There was also a page of phone numbers and emergency contacts, including Chief Billie and several doctors at the camp.

The chief was busy talking with those in line, answering questions, and announcing that there would be a short meeting as soon as everyone had signed up. Dr. Black was directing several maintenance men who were setting up electrical equipment on a cobbled-together platform at the south end of the parking lot. It appeared there would be a couple mics on the ground in front of the pretend-stage for audience use. Ben checked his watch. He’d probably have to miss most of today’s meeting but not the next one.

With the electric working and mics in place, Dr. Black climbed on stage. He said he hoped to answer most of their questions from the stage, but that there would be a Q and A period when he finished. First, he mentioned that the next meeting would be at the camp in five days. Then, teams would be assigned. Each team would consist of three people. Everyone would be tested daily and expected to wear masks—everywhere and at all times—and if contagion was suspected, then full protective gear. All PPE would be provided by Indian Health Service. There were known hot spots of virus break-outs around the reservation. Teams going to those designations would have a medical person with them—a nurse, emergency responder, or at the very least, a lab tech to administer testing.

Checks would be issued at the end of every five days’ work. Gas vouchers would be handed out to all those bringing their own vehicles. Trucks and SUVs were recommended. Meals would be at the Two Sisters café and box lunches would be prepared if requested twenty-four hours in advance. Overnight facilities in the FEMA trailers would be scarce and on a first come, first served basis. Sleeping bags, pup tents, or mattresses that would fit in the bed of a pickup were encouraged. The theme of social distancing was repeated and underscored. Safety first. Personal phones were required, or if not available for everyone, at least one phone per search vehicle.

Dr. Black announced that flu shots would be administered at the field hospital and at all clinics on New Mexico and Arizona reservations beginning September first. He highly recommended getting one. Likewise, testing for the virus would be available daily in the triage area at the camp. Each volunteer would be given a set appointment time to receive the test—and all volunteers would be monitored judiciously. All results would be shared with participants within twenty-four hours. Anyone testing positive would be quarantined at the camp for fourteen days so as not to spread the virus outside the boundaries of the reservation. Likewise, anyone exposed to someone who tested positive, would also be quarantined. Socializing would be encouraged to include only the three-man search team each person had been assigned to and not others in the camp.

Everything seemed to be going well, so Ben helped hospital personnel empty trash receptacles from the parking lot into bins in the alley before taking off. He’d left his jacket and tie in the truck and was pleased that he didn’t see any spatters of salsa on his dress shirt. It wasn’t every day that you had an audience with the governor.

A lot was riding on his plan. He needed to articulate a good, workable approach to providing tangible help by way of supplies delivered in a timely manner and matching what was ordered. He wasn’t being melodramatic and hoped he wouldn’t be perceived that way. He hoped the governor was aware of the consequences if his plan wasn’t put into action. It would be a major step in saving money and lives. A deep breath. He could do that—convince the powers that be to invest by providing the New Mexico National Guard as helpers. If the governor agreed, it was back to Albuquerque to meet with several dealerships.

** *

Success! He had the promise that New Mexico’s National Guard would be activated to protect the large shipment of gear that the reservation was desperate for. No one thought he was embellishing the facts. Yet, the governor simply had no idea that shipments of PPE meant for the reservation were either stolen or misdirected and replaced with inferior goods, or that drivers of delivery vehicles had been killed or maimed. Was it more important that a safe delivery was made? That the reservation would receive the supplies they so desperately needed or was it of paramount significance to find the killers? Thieves who let nothing stand in their way? Ben knew he had to trust law enforcement. But he was apprehensive and found himself looking over his shoulder. He’d be glad when this convoy was successful and safe on the reservation.

But how many knew of the threats, veiled, but nonetheless real? It always astounded Ben with the amount of inflammatory and shock-factor news that daily made headlines, the desperate plight of indigenous people literally living in the same state as those who could help never got the attention it needed. Could people be so callous as to ignore what would be an obvious strain on any health system that had to meet the needs of hundreds of thousands of individuals spread across miles of bad roads and inferior infrastructure?

He was feeling like a broken record, just repeating and repeating the needs of thousands of people. How many times had he presented the problems of a lack of sanitation, a decent water supply, or just simply funding by the federal government that in no way even began to alleviate the struggles on most reservations to have an audience refuse to believe in the severity of the problem. People would say things like, ‘that just couldn’t happen in the United States’, and he was blamed for simply blowing a situation out of proportion to receive sympathy or as some saw it, more funding. He got tired of being branded a liar. Yet, here the Governor never questioned him but instantly saw what needed to be done. In addition to safeguarding the PPE, she was releasing state emergency funds to be used as he saw fit.

After finalizing the particulars and giving an estimated date of enacting the plan as ten days out, Ben borrowed an office and touched base with the car dealerships in Albuquerque to outline a time and meeting place. If Dr. Black was true to his word, and he was able to procure government issued PPE, it would be flown to Albuquerque and held in a guarded hangar at the airport before being loaded into vans and trucks to begin the trek west. The Governor promised ten, steel-reinforced, armored personnel carriers—one for every two transport vehicles. And guards would be armed. At last the plan was set in motion.

No one seemed to question the need for armored cars and armed escorts, and Ben wasn’t going to share. Was it right to keep the ugly, dangerous side of the mission a secret? The possibility that there could be a threat to lives? He had more than a twinge of conscience and had to tell himself that this was a need that simply had to be met.