by Willow Rose
“Where is Danny? Why is he not here?”
“He needed some time with Junior. I think he’s trying to find the courage to tell him he has a sister.”
“Ouch. That’s gotta hurt,” Chloe says. “Got any food?”
I reach into my purse and pull something out. “Candy bar?”
“Sure. I’ll take it.”
“Looks like someone is stepping up,” I say, as a woman walks out of the crowd with a megaphone in her hand.
“Welcome, everyone,” she yells. “First of all, I want to thank everyone who has come out to support this important cause today.”
A vague bit of applause spreads through the crowd, then dies.
“Oh, my,” Chloe complains.
“Shh,” I say, while the woman with the megaphone tells us what is going to happen.
“Did she just say that we’ll be walking all the way to the country club?” Chloe says. “You’ve got to be kidding me! In this heat?”
“I gotta say, the idea doesn’t appeal to me either,” I say, as the woman is replaced by a big broad-shouldered guy that I recognize as Theodor G, the football player who started a fast food chain called Pull ‘N Pork, when he retired. Like Kelly Slater, he is one of the local heroes around here. We need them today.
Theodor grabs the megaphone and the crowd finally manages to applaud loudly. He talks about the river and how it has never been this bad and how he used to play in the water as a teenager and fish. When he is done, the crowd starts to walk, Theodor in the lead, chanting and singing.
I see many mothers with their children and feel a pinch in my heart, thinking about Maria and Tara. Where are they now? What has happened to them? Why doesn’t anyone care?
“I’m not walking that far,” Chloe says.
“Ah, come on,” I say. “You know…when in Rome and all that.”
“Kill me,” Chloe says, before she finally trots along behind me.
Chapter Forty-Five
April 2016
Boxer parks his car and gets out. His brother is right behind him. Minutemen is blocked off; no cars can go through while the rally is going on. The crowd is starting to leave city hall now and is walking towards the main street. Boxer and his brother grab the signs Boxer has made for them and join in. Boxer nods and greets some of his neighbors.
“Hi. How are you?” he says again and again.
His brother doesn’t know anyone and he stays behind Boxer. He is not very good with people. Not like Boxer is. Boxer knows how to talk to them, how to make them feel like he is one of them, that he is part of the community. Just like when he speaks to the girls online, he has a way of making them feel like they can talk to him.
Like he’s a nice guy.
“How do we find them? There are hundreds of people here,” his brother finally whispers in his ear.
“I showed you their Facebook pictures. Just look for them,” Boxer hisses angrily, trying to stop his brother from talking about why they are really there.
“But how? There are so many people?”
“I know,” Boxer says, and holds onto the gun in his pocket. “We gotta just wait for the right moment.”
“As you wish,” his brother says and trots along.
“Save our lagoon. Save our river home!” Boxer yells, along with the rest of the crowd. He is holding his sign up high in the air. “This is the future for our children. Save our water!”
They walk like this for about ten minutes when his brother starts to get impatient. “Where are they?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” Boxer hisses.
“Well, you should know. It’s all your plan.”
“I didn’t know there would be this many people, all right?”
“So, what do we do? All these women look alike. Many of them have children. Why don’t we just grab one or the other?”
“We can’t. I have a particular order for this one. I’ve been working on it for months. We can’t take any chances here. It’ll ruin everything. They have to be single moms and they have to be the ones I’ve picked out and the client has approved of,” he whispers, hoping his brother can hear him over the crowd’s loud singing and yelling. “Just trust me.”
“All right. All right. I just figured it would be easier if we…”
“No! Just walk.”
“All right. You’re in charge.”
Boxer’s brother finally goes silent when Boxer’s phone vibrates in his pocket. He pulls it out and sees a notification from Facebook.
“What is it?” his brother asks.
Boxer is smiling. “Someone tagged Paige in a photo. I’ve set it up so I get all notifications about her. If she posts anything or if someone tags her in something.” He touches his screen and a picture shows up of Paige and her mother standing by city hall holding their signs.
“It looks like it was taken before they started walking,” Boxer says. “But at least now we know that they’re here and what their signs say.”
Seconds later, the phone vibrates again. Another notification from Paige. It’s the same lady who posted the first picture, but this time it shows Paige with three other girls walking on their own.
“This one is newer,” he says. “Look, they’re right ahead of us. That building there is the school. Roosevelt Elementary. It’s no more than fifty feet ahead of us.”
Chapter Forty-Six
April 2016
I am keeping myself very busy during this rally and completely forgetting how far we are walking. I take pictures of everyone and post them on Facebook right away, trying to tag everyone, but it’s getting more and more difficult.
The latest picture I took was of four young girls between eleven and twelve years of age, walking with their signs and singing along. I thought it was the cutest thing, so I had to take their picture. I love it when young kids get involved.
I tag all four girls, then move on. I photograph an elderly lady who is walking steadfastly, keeping up with everyone else, and I interview her while we walk. She tells me she is ninety-six years old.
“The river has never been in this bad a shape,” she says, determined. “We’ve had fish-kills before, but not in this amount. It’s outrageous. I am here today to support my community and show my anger towards what is going on. Those politicians are sitting on their hands and doing nothing. It’s outrageous.”
I write her comments down. I want to use them both on Facebook and in the article I am writing for the blog.
Chloe is trying to keep up with me, but is snarling more and more the further we go.
“Are we there yet?” she keeps asking me.
I, on the other hand, am trying to make the best of it. I find that I am actually enjoying myself. And doing something like this makes me forget that nagging dread I have been feeling since last night. I am beginning to hope that I am actually wrong about this…that Chloe, Danny, and I are only seeing ghosts.
“If I’d known this was going to happen, then I would never have…”
“Chloe,” I interrupt her. “You’ve got to stop complaining. I am grateful that you are here, but if all you’re going to do is complain, then maybe it would be better if you went back home.”
“I thought you needed me here.”
“I thought so too, but as it turns out, I don’t. I am doing it all by myself. I love you. I am all for you. I love to hang out with you, but if you don’t want to be here, just go home and I’ll see you later.”
Chloe looks disappointed. I still can’t see her eyes, but I know how they look. I know her all too well. “So you’re saying you don’t need me here?”
I grab her and hug her, even though I know she hates people touching her. “See you later, Chloe.”
“All right. I guess I’m going back then.”
I wave and follow the crowd as it passes Chloe, who is now standing still. Some guy elbowing his way through the crowd accidentally pushes her aside.
“Hey!” she yells.
“Sorry,” he says and hurrie
s on.
I chuckle. That is so typically Chloe. Never was very good with people. And people were never very good with Chloe.
I turn around and start shooting pictures of the crowd. The guy who pushed Chloe is right in front of me and I take a few pictures, but mostly of his neck. I wonder why he is in such a hurry to get up front.
I am very pleased to see that the police have blocked off Minutemen completely for cars and they are all present by the blockade. I remind myself to put that in my article. How the local enforcement is backing up our protest. Should give them some goodwill. I need to stay good friends with them.
I take a few extra photos when something happens behind me. It starts with the unmistakable sound of tires screeching. It is followed by someone screaming. The scream makes me turn to look. I face hundreds of people who have started to run towards me. It’s like a stampede.
What the hell is going on?
Between the screaming and running people, I manage to spot a car. It seems to have driven through the police blockade and into the crowd.
There is blood on the front of the car.
Chapter Forty-Seven
April 2016
Boxer doesn’t look back. The people surrounding him all do. They turn to see what the screams are about while he continues ahead. In front of him, not very far away, he can see the girls. Four young girls walking in a line. They too hear the screams and the commotion coming from the back of the line and turn to look. Panic erupts as the stampeding crowd from behind surpasses Boxer and chaos is everywhere. The girls are pulled apart, some of them start to run, others are crying helplessly, calling their mother’s names.
Boxer’s eyes remain fixated on the girl, on Paige. She is standing still, frozen, while everything and everyone around her moves frantically like recently beheaded chickens. As he approaches her, their eyes lock.
She smiles, but not for long. The seriousness on Boxer’s face causes her to stop. He approaches her and grabs her by the shoulders.
“Something happened. You’ve got to come with me,” he yells through the screams. “Something terrible happened to your mother.”
Fear spreads in her eyes. “What? What happened?”
“Something terrible. She was taken away in an ambulance. Come with me. I’ll take you to the hospital,” he lies.
Boxer grabs Paige’s hand in his and pulls her out of the crowd. “I have my car over here, it’s parked behind city hall,” he says. “But we must hurry.”
Screams and panic continue behind them as they leave the main road and cross the parking lot. The girl is whimpering.
“Is it bad?” she asks. “Is she hurt?”
“I don’t know. But I gotta tell you, kiddo, it doesn’t look too good. She was in pretty bad shape when they took her away.”
“Oh. How did it happen?”
“A car drove through the blockade and hit some people.”
Boxer looks around to make sure no one is watching him. Not a single person sees them. They’re too busy screaming and running around. The officers present are all running towards the car that apparently did hit someone. Boxer has no idea who or how it happened or who drove the car, but he is very grateful to whoever it was. It was perfect timing. It was just the type of panic he was going for.
Boxer’s own plan had been to use the gun to fire a few shots outside the crowd and create chaos that way. But since the car did all the work for him, he didn’t have to.
“My car is right over here,” he says, and points at the white van. He looks around to see if he can see his brother anywhere, but he doesn’t seem to be there. Boxer opens the back door.
“You need to ride in the back. Jump in.”
Paige hesitates and looks at him, slightly skeptical.
“Come on,” Boxer says. “We’ve got to get out of here before everyone else gets into their cars and starts driving, then we’ll get stuck in traffic. You hear those sirens? Well, that’s your mother being taken to the hospital. You want to be there, right?”
Paige nods while looking at him with big brown moist eyes. He can’t believe how great a liar he is, how convincing his little act is.
“Well, get in then.”
Paige finally jumps in and Boxer slams the door shut behind her.
One down, one to go. Now where is that no-good brother of mine?
Finally, he spots him as he comes running towards the car. Boxer growls when he realizes he’s alone.
“What the hell are you doing?” he yells. “Where is the mother? You were supposed to bring her here. You were supposed to tell her that her daughter had been hurt and that she needed to come with you, where is she?”
His brother pants heavily and leans forward to catch his breath. “I’m sorry, Boxer. I really am. She…” he pauses to breathe. “She…I couldn’t find her.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
April 1975
The days are long and the food sparse on the boat. They have no water, only sodas, so they cook their rice in it and it tastes terrible. Danh is losing weight fast and so is his brother and especially his sister. But at least they’re being fed.
Far from everyone onboard is getting anything to eat or drink for days. Most of the people on the bottom of the boat haven’t paid the fare and therefore don’t get to get up on deck and don’t get anything. They’re getting sick down there and it is spreading fast. Danh sees it every day. More and more people are getting sick and they look like they’re all dying.
Danh feels awful for being one to get food, but Bao tells him to just ignore them, to be happy there is food and drink for him and his family. Long soon notices it too. That people are suffering. She doesn’t understand why they can’t just give those people some food.
“There are children down there,” she says, crying. “They’re hungry. They’re thirsty.”
“So are we,” Bao says harshly. “It’s them or us. We won’t survive if they drink everything we have. Don’t you understand anything?”
He has never been very good at talking to Long. He wants her to toughen up, he wants her to grow up, while Danh tries to keep her a child. He loves her innocence, her naivety, and would prefer she stayed that way all of her life. He simply loves it about her. So he tries to play games with her. As always, when he wants her to think about something else, he tells her it’s all part of a game. Using empty cola bottles, he plays music for her and hopes that will make her forget everything. Most of the days, they pretend to be royalty on a ship and they have to look for pirates. That forces her to look away from the sick people. They talk about dreams and about how they are going to bathe in water when they arrive at the coast.
“There will be so much food we’ll all get fat,” he says.
“Also ice cream?”
“Especially ice cream, your majesty. We won’t eat anything else for weeks. We’ll get so fat we’ll have to roll everywhere,” he says, putting air in his cheeks to look fat, then trying to roll around on the deck.
Long giggles.
“No one will even be able to carry us, so fat will we be,” she says, laughing her light childish laughter. The sound is like medicine for Danh’s tormented soul. He has lost count of the days, but knows it has been more than two weeks so far since they left the harbor. He is sick of the ocean and longs to see land again, to feel steadfast land under his feet. But, most of all, he wants to be able to drink as much water as he can. Drinking only sodas makes him want to throw up. Once he sets his feet on solid ground again, he’ll never touch a soda again. Especially not a cola.
But no matter how much Danh tries to make Long forget about the starving people at the bottom of the boat, it is no use. Every day, the smell coming from down there gets worse; the sick get worse and they all wonder how many are already dead.
Without anyone noticing it, Long rations her own portion of rice for days in a row and saves up, hiding it in the pocket of her dress. After a week, when Danh isn’t looking, when he is dozing off for one unforgettable second,
Long grabs the rice and walks down the ladder to the bottom, where she feeds a boy and his mother.
Danh doesn’t realize what is going on until someone from the deck starts to yell at her. He opens his eyes just in time to watch Bao go after her and pull her crying and screaming up on the deck.
“Don’t ever go down there again! You hear me?” He has placed his face close to hers and Danh can tell he is hurting her arm. “Never again! These people are sick. The captain won’t hesitate to throw you overboard if you get sick too!”
Chapter Forty-Nine
April 2016
I can’t believe what is happening around me. Such a peaceful rally, suddenly turned into an inferno of screaming people running like a mad shooter was after them. To be fair, I think most of them think that is what happened, but still. The panic is overwhelming. Kids are crying and mothers rushing them away to their cars.
Meanwhile, I am running to the scene to see what happened. I approach the area that is heavily surrounded by police and paramedics.
I can see someone lying on the ground. I see blood on the car and lots of people kneeling beside the woman who was hit by the car that accidentally ran through the police blockade.
I manage to get a step closer when I realize I know who it is.
It’s that woman that I photographed earlier. What was her name again? Nicky! Nicky Stover! Oh, my God!
I spot detective Fisher among the officers and elbow my way forward. He nods and approaches me.
“You can’t get through, Mary,” he says and stops me.
“Where is her daughter?” I ask.
“You know this woman?”
“Not very well. But I do know her name is Nicky and that she has a daughter, Paige. Who is taking care of her?”
“Right now, we’re just trying to keep her alive,” he says. “The car crashed straight into her.”
