Anchored, page 11
I cleared my throat. “I was supposed to join my mom and dad here, at the refugee camp. When my friends and I arrived, I got a text from my dad. He said that they’d entered the camp a few days earlier. Then Mom got sick. She needed an operation. The doctors sent her and my dad to a hospital in Santa Barbara.
Dad warned me not to enter the refugee camp. It wasn’t safe. He texted that the military was planning to pull out soon. He and Mom got a ride to Santa Barbara, because there was room on a supply truck headed there. The doctors have run out of medicine. The base was short on food.”
Some of the refugees gasped. Others covered their mouths.
I continued. “My friends and I were going to turn around and leave, but I decided we had to warn the people who were waiting to get in. When they heard my news, they rioted. My friends and I tried to stop the riot, and the sailors arrested us.”
The man with the knife lowered it. He collapsed down on the nearest cot and held his head in his hands. “I knew something was wrong. Sailors I’ve worked with for weeks have been whispering, and now go silent around me. Some of them have told me they have family here in the refugee camp. How can they do this? How can they go off and just leave us?”
I grimaced. “I’m sorry, but I know it’s true. While looking for my friend in the hospital, I heard some doctors talk about leaving. They said they’re going to pull out, and soon.”
“We have nowhere to go. What are we going to do?” The knife man looked over at a frail older woman covered up in a cot behind him. “We should have stayed at home, and taken our chances.”
I stood next to the cot I’d been hiding in. “The military doesn’t have an endless supply of food. There aren’t factories making beef stew or Spaghetti-O’s anymore. Most of our Midwest farms are frozen over … but you can still learn how to fend for yourselves and live off the land.”
A woman in the back cried out, “We don’t live on a farm.”
“No, but you are close to a river. You are near the ocean. My brother and our friends have been living off the sea since the tsunami. It can be done.”
A number of people spoke at once. “We’re too sick… too old… we need help.”
“Tell her, Raymond,” a woman in the back said.
Raymond, the knife man, held up his hand. “Quiet, everyone. Let her speak.”
I began walking around the room. “You need to talk to Major Conrad. Tell him you know what he is planning to do. Ask him to help you move the camp to the beach, and near the mouth of the river, before he goes. And if he can’t or won’t help you, then get organized and do it yourself.”
A young man holding a baby stepped forward. “My wife is dead. It’s just me and my son. I’d go, but I can’t risk my son.”
I glared at the people staring at me. “Don’t you get it? When the sailors leave, there will be no more food or water. Your only choice is to leave.”
A middle-aged woman stood. “We’ve been out there. There are crazies running around. It’s not safe. We need protection.” She began to wobble and the man next to her helped her back onto her cot.
I kneeled beside her. “I’ve been out there too. You’re right. It’s dangerous. But there are more of you than there are crazies. Form communities. And ask if you can get some of the sailors assigned to help and protect you until you get settled. Vote for people you trust to lead you. Hunt, fish, and grow the food you need. If you work together, you will survive.”
A balding man who had been leaning against the wall in the far back, shook his head. “You’re just a kid. Why should we believe anything you say? I haven’t heard anything about the sailors leaving. How do we know that you and your friends weren’t part of some gang that robbed and killed to survive?”
I gritted my teeth. “I don’t care if you believe me or not. Sometimes I wish we’d just left, and not stayed to warn the people outside, and now you. If we’d stayed quiet, we wouldn’t be in the trouble we are. Go ahead and believe what you want. What’s important is that you leave here and settle in a place where you can survive. And at least ask the sailors to help you.”
Raymond put his hand on my shoulder. “What is your name, young lady? Where did you come from?”
“My name is Toni. I’m sixteen. My friends and I left Seattle on a sailboat, eighteen hours before the tsunami struck. We rode the wave before it crested. Ice and snow chased us down the coast. We avoided cities and searched for water. We fished. We ate seaweed. If we can survive, so can you.”
The balding man started to speak again. Raymond held up his hand up for silence, then motioned for me to come closer. “Would you be willing to speak to some other groups?”
I shook my head. “I don’t have time. And I don’t need to be accused of starting another riot. My friend is in the brig. My boyfriend is in the hospital. I need to get them away from here before they are brought up on charges.”
Raymond looked around the room. “I’ll go and speak to some of the other tent leaders. If what you say is true, we don’t have much time. I like the idea of a group of representatives going to meet with Major Conrad.”
Suddenly exhausted, I said, “I hope he’ll listen.”
The wobbly woman stood again. “How can we help you?”
I thought for a moment. “I need a hat to cover my hair, and a badge that will get me onto the base.”
Three people took badges off their jackets or sweatshirts and handed them to me. An older woman handed me a bottle of water and a protein bar. I took the water, the bar, one of the badges, and thanked them all.
A young woman holding a baby came forward. When she was close, she tossed a light blue stocking hat at me. “Tell the border guard your name is Jessie Woods. Thank you for warning us. I like your idea of living off the land. When my husband comes back, no matter what the others decide, we’re going to leave.”
“Good.” I stroked the baby’s cheek and was rewarded with a giggle.
I shoved my hair up under the hat and pinned the badge onto my hoodie. “There are lots of repairable boats and usable kayaks in the marinas. You should check them out.”
“Go rescue your friends. You are always welcome here,” Raymond said.
“Are you crazy? You’ll get us all thrown into…” the balding man began to complain. A number of people in the room shushed him.
I opened the flap, checked to make sure there were no sailors around, and left.
Chapter Nineteen
I felt confident heading onto the base. With my hair covered and a badge, I would easily blend in. My backstory if questioned, began to form in my mind. At first, I decided I’d say I was kitchen help. After a while that changed to laundry detail. If I made it to the laundry, I’d have a chance to find an even better disguise. Maybe even a uniform. But in the end, I decided to just take my cue from the others crossing with me. Whatever the people around me said their job was, I would say the same.
I was surprised to see the sky beginning to turn dark. I’d completely lost track of time. Panic filled me. There might be a curfew on the base. My concern grew when civilian after civilian passed me, all headed the opposite way I was going.
The crossing guard was busy checking the names of those who stood in a long line headed off the base, and into the settlement camp.
When I got to the check point, I joined a young woman waiting to get onto the military base. She was arguing with the sailor.
I stepped quietly behind her.
She gestured with her arms. “But you have to let me in. It’s the only jacket I have. I couldn’t leave it in my tent. Someone would steal it. Please. I know exactly where it is. I’ll be back in five minutes.” She had tears in her eyes.
The guard seemed unsure of what to do.
A man in the long line headed off the base, yelled, “Come on. Move it. We want to get home.”
I stepped beside the girl. “I need to get in too.”
The girl glared at me.
The guard shook his head. “That’s it. I’m not supposed to let anyone in a half hour before curfew. You’ll both have to come back tomorrow.”
“But I have an appointment!” I surprised myself as I blurted out an elaborate story. “The military attorneys want me to testify about the riot. They told me to come to the major’s offices as soon as I got settled. They said they would be working on the trial late into the night.”
“Major Conrad’s offices?” The sailor eyes got big.
“Check with him.” I sounded more confident than I felt. “They want this over quickly. They will be really mad if I don’t show up.”
“I’m not gonna stand here all night,” the man who’d yelled earlier shouted, and began shoving his way to the front of the line. “Let me through.”
The guard brought his gun around. “No one gets in or out unless I say so.” He motioned to the girl and me. “I need your names, then go. But you!” He spun to face the man who’d tried to bully his way in. “Get to the back of the line. One more word, and you’re in the brig.”
We gave the young sailor our names. Jessie’s name worked. We were through. The girl I’d joined walked swiftly down the road between the metal buildings and huge white tents. I had no idea where the brig was, and followed her.
She finally stopped and confronted me. “What’s your problem?”
“Problem?” I stuttered.
“Why are you following me?”
“Umm. I don’t know my way around the base. Where are you going?”
She narrowed her eyes. “None of your business.”
I shrugged. “Sorry. I just got here, and…”
She gestured at the huge tent on the right that had four guards posted at the door. “I think that’s HQ.”
“Okay. Good.” I glanced at the tent. “Do you know where the brig is?”
“Brig? You said you wanted Headquarters.”
I thought fast. “The attorneys are questioning the guys in the brig. Thought I’d check there first.”
“Then why? Never mind. I don’t want to know. The brig’s behind this tent.”
“Thanks.” I smiled and took off. The guards stared at me as I raced past them. I turned and checked. The girl was gone, but the guards continued watching me until I was out of view.
There was a roar in the distance and the sound of gunshots. I ran from one dark shadow to another, heading back toward where I hoped the brig was. I rolled under a parked jeep when a door in the tent near me burst open. Two sailors exited.
“They’re rioting again?” The tall sailor pointed toward the freeway entrance.
“Poor people,” a husky sailor replied. “They have nowhere else to go.”
“I’ve heard grumbling from the ranks. Some guys have girlfriends and extended family in the camp.”
“I’ve heard that too,” the husky sailor said.
The sailors stepped around the end of the tent, and disappeared. I sprinted in front of the brig door and leapt behind a large plastic garbage can when I heard voices.
“Hold the door open, will you?” a woman said.
I heard a rattling sound. “If we’re really going to leave soon, I bet they’ll have the trial in the morning,” another woman said.
“You think so? That’ll take forever. There are at least fifteen guys in the brig. And it sounds like they’re rioting outside again. That’ll mean even more arrests.”
A cart, with two women pushing it, rolled past me.
The deep-voiced woman sighed. “I don’t know where they are going to put them all.”
I peeked around the garbage can. They were headed back down the road toward where the Headquarters tent was.
I started after them.
“Wish we’d had time to grab dinner. Everything will be gone by the time we get back.”
The first woman shook her head. “I don’t know. Looks pretty awful. I wonder if feeding this to prisoners could be considered unusual punishment.”
Prisoners. These women sailors were taking food to the brig. I sped up. When I was about fifty feet away, I waved and yelled, “Excuse me.”
Both women put their hands on their guns.
I held my arms up. “The cook sent me to help you.”
One of the women checked her watch. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s almost curfew.”
“I know. I’m on my way home. Cook asked me to give you a hand with the trays. Said I should pass them out for you, so you two could get dinner. When I’m done, I’ll leave. You can come and pick up the trays later.”
“He didn’t say anything about that to us.”
I shrugged. “Okay. Fine. I’ll just go home then.”
“Wait,” She said to her fellow sailor. “What could it hurt? I’m starving.”
The other sailor moved away from the cart. “These trays are for the two guards inside and the prisoners. We’ll be checking that everyone got fed when we get back.”
“Of course.”
I could feel the women’s eyes on me as I headed for the brig. When they didn’t stop me when I entered, I started to breathe again.
Then one of the guards left his post and came up to me. He stared at my badge. “What are you doing on the base? It’s almost curfew.”
I paused. “I know. I’m supposed to drop dinner off at the brig and leave.”
“You have fifteen minutes.”
I stared up at him. “If you get out of my way, I’ll make it.”
The guard peaked at the trays. “Any extras?”
“Sorry.” I pushed past him.
The guard started following me. I put my head down and kept going.
“Wait!” he shouted.
I stopped and tried not to shake.
The guard strode past me. “Let me get the door.”
I pushed the cart through as he held it for me and grinned.
“Thanks,” I said with a nervous smile.
He left and closed the door behind him. I’d made it inside the brig. The heavy white tent fabric kept most of the light out and I paused for my eyes to adjust. Two sailors sat at desks off to one side. Bright, uncovered light bulbs hung over each of their desks. A long dark corridor was ahead of me. The sailors looked surprised.
“Who are you?” one asked.
“Isn’t it after curfew?” the other looked at his watch.
“Hope not,” I leaned over and pulled out two trays. “The kitchen asked me to drop these off before I headed home.”
The men stared at the trays. A pleasant aroma wafted up from the foil covered meals.
They pulled out their trays and rolled back the foil. A pile of rice, another pile of beans, and something that looked like sliced hot dogs filled the plate. Not the greatest of meals, but all I’d eaten that day was a protein bar. My stomach gurgled.
The first sailor carried his tray back to his desk and groaned, “Rice and beans, again?”
The other motioned for me to head down the corridor. “You’d better hurry if you’re going to make it off the base on time.”
I quickly headed toward the jail cells. They were made of cyclone fencing and plywood. There was no light inside the cells. An occasional light bulb hung over the corridor. When I came to the first cell, I picked up a tray and studied the wire.
“There’s room under the door. Slide the tray,” the prisoner inside said.
I passed a tray to him across a rough wooded floor. Digging Nick out wasn’t going to be an option. I stopped at four more cells. Every time I approached a cell, a sailor stepped into the light to receive his tray.
When I got to the fifth cell, two men dressed as civilians came forward. They politely took turns collecting their trays.
I hadn’t seen Nick yet and was running out of cells to check. My heart pounded harder with every second I didn’t locate him.
At my next stop, I handed trays to two young guys. I remembered them from the riot. They’d been throwing rocks at the sailors. I kept my face down and hoped they wouldn’t recognize me.
Then I heard, “Toni?”
I ran past the next cell and then the one after that. At the last cell in the jail, I found him. “Nick!” I stuck my fingers through the holes in the cyclone wire.
His fingers covered mine. “You’re okay?” Nick whispered. “Takumi?”
“He’s okay, but still in the hospital. I need your help to get him out.”
Nick chuckled softly. “I’d love to help, but I’m a little busy right…”
“Hey? Where’s our food?” a man I’d bypassed cried out.
“Be right there.” I stepped as close to Nick as the wire would let me. “How do I get you out of here?”
He gestured with his head toward the back of his cell. A man sat huddled on a cot. There was no way he wouldn’t hear us.
“Come back. Late. The guards fall asleep. They have keys,” Nick said softly into my ear. Then he pushed me away from him and spoke louder. “What’s going on out there?”
“The sailors are leaving. But before they go, there’ll be a trial. The three of us are the focus. They blame us for starting it all.”
“Hey! Come on. Our dinner’s getting cold,” a prisoner yelled.
“Starving here,” another cried out.
“I’ll be back. I’ll think of something.” I rushed over to the cart.
Heavy footsteps from down the hall were headed my way. I grabbed a tray and shoved it under a cell door.
“What’s going on back here,” the desk sailor stood behind me.
“Just passing out the trays. Almost done,” I said.
A sailor in one of the first cells yelled, “She was talking to one of the rioters.”
The guard grabbed my arm and pulled off my cap. “Blonde hair. Sailors have been looking for a blonde girl who escaped capture today. Up against the wall. Hands behind your back.”
“No!” I cried.
The other guard appeared and snapped handcuffs onto my wrists. I kicked and tried to head-butt them. They jammed my face against a wooden post. I struggled, but their grip was firm.
