Travis sighed deeply.
“I guess it isn’t exactly Johns Hopkins,” Blaire offered.
“Johns Hopkins?” he shot back quickly. “It isn’t even the backwoods county hospital from my hometown, and they kill at least two people a week.” His voiced dipped low, and Blaire responded with a face of dismay.
“I’m sorry,” Blaire whispered.
There was a loud belch, and Blaire and Travis looked up to see that Marko had made a break in the wall. Marko pulled on the wall revealing a hidden room.
“What’s that?” Travis asked.
“It is where they used to keep some of the more potent medications, a hiding place to ensure that they would not be stolen. They created this room to keep the medications safe.”
“What medications do we have to keep safe?” Travis asked.
“None, really, now just basic things. We do keep a small amount of potent tranquilizers on hand just in case any of the children have a fit that we cannot calm, but only Vesna and I have access to them.”
The photographs along the hall observed them carefully as they made their way toward the classroom. Blaire looked up at the little boy with the braces on his legs and gulped—his face blurred. Blaire blinked, looked again, and the boy suddenly regained all of his perfect features.
Marko inserted his key, making the locks snap and clink, and then he stepped aside to allow Blaire into the room. Her mouth dropped. The room that had possibly once been a classroom was nothing of the sort now. It was drab and rundown. Approximately ten beat-up desks littered the room, one of which appeared as if an axe had given it a good blow to the middle. The others seemed off kilter as if they would rebuke the weight of a child. Stray papers littered the floor, and shadows traipsed along the scant rays of light that snuck in through the breaks in the blinds. Blaire’s eyes were drawn to the back wall, above a closet, where the only photograph in the room hung. In the black and white picture, a group of children were perfectly posed on three levels; the lowest level sat on the floor Indian style, while the next bunch gathered behind them on their knees, and the last row stood above the others. The face of each child was hidden by paper masks of sad-eyed clowns. The construction paper disguises featured two lines that made large semi-ovals around the cutouts for the eyes. Long single eyelashes were painted in slick lines, and the little round nose was a dark color, probably red. The mouth was curled up at the ends in a haunting grin that revealed two buck teeth.
Ring around the rosie, Blaire could hear phantom children chanting.
Travis fiddled with the string on the blinds causing them to zip up, startling everyone in the room, but light poured in offering some salvation. Blaire was relieved that there was a view of the sea; at least, the room had one quality characteristic.
Blaire picked up a piece of crumpled paper from the floor, a math assignment. One of the questions was two plus two, illustrated with apples, but there was no answer, just bright red crayon scribbling. Blaire flipped the paper over and narrowed her eyes at the childlike handwriting made of jagged red scratches.
The words read, theres something in the basemint.
CHAPTER SIX
“Are you ready to meet the children?” Marko asked.
Blaire took a last look at her classroom, at the scattered remnants of a place where kids once laughed and learned, but the walls were dead now, just fossilized remains.
“Absolutely,” Blaire said. A smile broke out across her face.
Blaire and Travis followed Marko into the cafeteria where the children were finishing their lunch. As her eyes poured over each child’s pitiful appearance, her mind hardly knew where to begin. It occurred to her that the children matched the orphanage perfectly; they were just as broken as the old building.
Bones pressed through thin layers of skin, and sores that could have easily been treated back home sat festering, but their eyes were the worst. They all had the same eyes, sparkling and suffering gems peering out from sunken, soulless holes. Blaire struggled to understand how she would fulfill the educational needs of children who obviously appeared to have much more pressing ones.
Conversing quietly in the corner were Vesna and another worker, who Blaire had not yet met. Marko interrupted their conversation causing the women to eye the Americans suspiciously.
“Can I have your attention, please? Recently, I spoke to you about St. Sebastian getting volunteers to help us around here, and they have arrived. I would like to introduce Blaire Baker and Travis Wells. They will be here for the next year.”
Blaire choked on the harsh words.
The next year. A year of 365 long, excruciating days.
A year which yesterday sounded like a moment in time but today sounded like an eternity.
Go on! What are ya, scared? Blaire heard the words of the one of the Frightening Four, the words that only she could hear.
Marko’s voice sliced through her thoughts. “Ms. Baker is a teacher, and she will be developing lessons for the children. Mr. Wells is a nurse, and he will be assisting with some of the children’s medical needs.”
A quick glance at Travis revealed what Blaire knew was a mirror image of her own face, like the expression of a spectator watching a great white shark close in on its doomed prey. Blaire cleared her throat. She struggled to think. In one of the cluttered corners of her brain was a speech that she prepared, something about how happy she was to be here or how this was a dream of hers or something, but all of her previous notions, intentions, and thoughts had been wiped away.
She opened her mouth in hopes that something would come out, “Hello.”
The room was soundless, as she nudged Travis. “H…Hello,” he said.
No one appeared impressed.
“This is Vesna and Hannah,” Marko said, motioning to each woman specifically.
“Hello,” Hannah responded while Vesna offered only a nod.
Blaire looked over the women briefly, but her focus quickly returned to the children and the overwhelming task at hand.
“Well, I will leave you to it. Let me know if you need anything.” Marko left the cafeteria without even the slightest glance back. Blaire felt as if she were dropped in the middle of the ocean and left to sink or swim and she was sure the sharks would be circling soon.
Hannah introduced them to all of the children. For days now, Blaire had been so excited to meet them, to swoop in and change their lives as their American savior. One by one, she was meeting them and feeling as if she could hardly see the children themselves, but was being presented a group of hindering maladies. Names are what she should have been hearing, but instead it was “…and this is Blind. Hello Blind, lovely weather, isn’t it? This little girl is Deaf. Oh, hi Deaf, how are you? This is Mute. Nice to meet you, Mute.”
Travis greeted the children with gentle handshakes all the while giving subtle examinations, from what Blaire could tell. As the children gathered around them, Blaire took a younger one onto her lap, a girl who could not have been more than six. Instinctively, Travis began regaling them with the story of his adventurous airplane ride, instantly capturing their attentions. One of the little girls listened quietly while gently fingering the sparkling diamond earrings Blaire wore.
After forty-five minutes, Blaire was beginning to tire again, but found it hard to break away from the children, she hesitated before she spoke. “Nurse Wells and I have to get going, so we can start working, but we will see you again really soon.”
The little girl Blaire was holding did not want to leave her lap, but she coaxed the child off only with the promise that she was not leaving, and that she was staying right there at St. Sebastian.
“How old are you?” Blaire asked as she stroked the child’s hair.
The girl held up nine skeletal fingers, and Blaire lost her breath as sure as if the child’s boney hand reached down into her throat and swiped it from within her.
“N…ni…nine,” Blaire stuttered. The child nodded. Blaire could not believe that the girl ins
ide of this withering six-year-old frame was nine. She tried to mask her sorrow like the clown-faced children in the photograph.
As she and Travis stepped out into the hall, Blaire turned back and caught the transition of Hannah’s smile into a menacing scowl. Shifting her attention, Blaire studied the haunting tableau of the children left in the dreary room, some whispering quietly, others sitting stiffly and staring into space, while others were rocking back and forth methodically. Blaire shook off the thin layer of ice that tried to take hold of her as she turned and followed Travis down the hall.
“This is a joke, right?” Travis asked as they locked themselves in his sterile-feeling office. “What are we supposed to do here? These kids need more than some cough syrup and knee bandages. I’m a nurse, not a warzone doctor. I can’t possibly give these children the type of medical care that they need!”
Blaire agreed in defeat. “I know. I have no idea how I am supposed to set up a curriculum. They have much more pressing medical issues than educational ones. Besides that, they are at various grade levels, which I could have dealt with, but the immeasurable number of diverse special needs is going to be staggering.”
“What are we supposed to do?” Travis asked.
“Listen, I will give Emma a call to let her know that we arrived and to tell her what is going on.”
“I mean this can’t be legal. Are they even feeding these children?” Travis seemed in a controlled fit, pacing the room trying desperately to make sense of the situation. “And what is with the people who work here?” Travis said as he did his best impression of one of the many frowning faces that seemed the norm among the workers at St. Sebastian.
“You would think that people who work with children do it because they like children. And the rooms—” Blaire began.
“Oh, don’t even get me started on the rooms. I hate to say it but this is neglect, plain and simple,” Travis whispered even though it was only he and Blaire in the room.
“I know, I know, but there is nothing that we can do about it right now. We’re here now, so let’s just make the best of the situation until we figure out our next move.”
Travis thought for a moment before he spoke. “Fine, I’ll do what I can, and you’re going to call United Care, right?”
“Yes,” Blaire confirmed.
As Blaire made her way down the hall toward the stairs, through a window, she noticed someone standing outside, and she moved closer for a better look. It was Marko, standing at the top of the cement steps that led down into what Blaire assumed was a basement, only accessible from the outside of the building. Just as Dariya had the day before, Marko stood there, his face blank and his thoughts consumed by something Blaire could not see. Blaire leaned in a little further, careful not to allow Marko to see her.
“There’s something in the basement,” a tiny voice slithered up her spine.
Blaire jumped and turned to find a little boy, who was missing his two front teeth, standing behind her. His skin was so pale that he appeared a soft shade of purple due to the blood pumping through the veins that sat just beneath the thin skin. Smoldering brown eyes fell into her, and the boy’s cheeks sank down just below the bone, making him appear endlessly hungry.
Blaire bent down and caressed his arm gently. “You frightened me. What is your name?” “Ivan.” The boy responded.
“I’m Ms. Baker. Ivan, why are you not with your friends?”
“I don’t have any friends.”
“Ivan!” a firm call startled them both. Vesna stood at the other end of the hall, her deep amber eyes burning with frustration for having to fish out the child of wanderlust.
“Come,” she spoke again, her voice cutting them with sword-like precision. Ivan made his way down the hall, allowing his fingertips to coast along the wall as he went. Blaire flashed an insincere grin at the worker before she turned back to the window. Marko had left the steps and was walking briskly toward his cottage.
“Emma, I’ve been trying to reach you all evening,” Blaire said with a sigh, as she sat in the diminishing light of dusk, dangling her legs in the massive hole in the ground that was once a pool.
“Sorry,” the young woman responded dryly as if she had not one care, and suddenly Blaire envied her comfortable American setting. “We had lots of volunteers going out this week, and I have had more than enough issues to deal with already. One girl called freaking out because she has to use an outhouse. She is okay with no electricity, but the idea of having to take a crap outside really gives her the willies…go figure.”
Blaire looked up into the windows of St. Sebastian, instantly grateful for the electricity and indoor plumbing, and wondered if she was not overreacting.
“Where are you?” Emma asked. Blaire looked around and rolled her eyes. She had crept all over St. Sebastian, stood inside of closets, pushed herself into awkward corners until finally she crisscrossed the backyard and found a place right by the pool that offered just enough reception to place her call.
“We made it to St. Sebastian, and I’m outside by the pool. My reception here is terrible,” Blaire explained.
“A pool…fancy! Oh…and how about Travis, hot right?” Emma immediately moved on to her next topic of interest.
“No, it’s not fancy! And as far as Travis goes, well, if he were batting for a different team, then we’d have a game!” Blaire practically screamed.
“WHAT? No way!” Blaire heard the voice on the other end of the line complain with a giggle.
“You knew!” Blaire accused.
“NO! I didn’t know, honest to the gods.”
“Emma, whenever you say, honest to the gods, you’re lying,” Blaire responded.
“Wow,” Emma said. “Note to self.”
“Emma…”
“Okay, I did know, but I didn’t want to spoil it for you—”
“Emma…” Blaire interrupted.
“Well, at least you’ll have some eye candy for the next year and will probably get some great hair tips. You should be thanking me. You should have seen who they were trying to place you with,” Emma babbled.
“Emma...” Blaire spoke louder.
“No, seriously, he had these super thick glasses, and he spoke in this weird whisper.”
“Emma…”
“Blaire, I keep interrupting you for a reason.”
“Why?” Blaire was puzzled.
“Because I don’t want to hear your problems!” Emma snapped.
“What?”
“I’m sorry, Blaire. It’s just that I have been fielding calls all day from volunteers who have arrived at their third world destinations raging about bugs the size of elephants, or that they have to wear a headscarf in a culture where it’s a tradition. And they can only shower once every two days. They are experiencing homesickness, culture shock, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. I just want to say, ‘Sorry, Toto, you’re not in Kansas anymore,’ but I can’t because I am their compassionate, concerned, and kind United Care liaison. Grow up for God’s sake! This is what you signed up for! You can’t change the world from a room at the Ritz Carlton, dearie. The war is in the trenches. Blaire, you are one of my closest friends. I know how strong you are, so the last person that I need to hear a ten-minute scratchy-toilet-paper saga from is you.”
Blaire shook her head at the harsh toss off the bull of life. Emma tended to have that effect on her. Though she hated to admit it, Emma was quick to irritation, along with being overly forthcoming and honest to the point of brutality, but her reasoning was always spot on.
“You’re right,” Blaire said. If anyone could make things make sense, it was Emma.
“What? Really?” That’s awesome; it’s been so long since I’ve heard anyone say that.”
Emma’s irritated tone had been replaced by a grateful one.
Blaire wanted to laugh, but couldn’t for some reason, as it just wouldn’t come out.
“Well, go ahead,” Emma relented.
“What?”
“You m
ight as well give it to me now.”
Blaire held back her galvanizing emotions for as long as she could. “Emma, I am not complaining about me. I’m fine with the fact that I don’t have all of the modern conveniences, and I am fine with the fact that the summertime high temperature here is sixty degrees.”
Emma rolled her eyes at her friend’s exaggeration, but held back her sigh.
“It’s not about me or my gay companion, thanks again for that, by the way. It’s the children—they are underfed, and they need medical care that is far beyond anything that Travis can provide. I know that we went through some of this in orientation, but what is happening here is more than neglect, it is outright child abuse.” Blaire’s voice vanished into a shaky whisper, and she surveyed the backyard to ensure that she was still alone.
“I know,” Emma revealed.
“You know?”
“I understand that it is difficult to deal with because I have seen it all. I have worked in places where young girls were married off as young as fourteen, where people worked like slaves to barely feed themselves and their families, where girls were mutilated as part of cultural tradition, and I am going to tell you what I have told everyone else.”
Blaire waited for the blow.
“You’re not in America anymore. Most of the world lives in poverty, and so completely different from us that we can hardly even fathom it until it’s right in front of our faces. The United Care program is not just meant to change their lives, it’s meant to change yours as well. Give them your help, give them your knowledge, give them your respect and your care, and that is all that you can do. The conditions at St. Sebastian are not an isolated incident; there are orphanages just like it all over the world where people just discard their unwanted and go on with life. It is a tragedy, no doubt, but that’s just the way it is.”
“Geeze, you are really good at your job.”
Emma laughed. “That’s why they pay me the big bucks.”
“I just didn’t think it would be this bad,” Blaire said.
“You will be fine. Take my word for it.”
The Unwanted (Black Water Tales Book 2) Page 5
