Hurricane (10 page)

The doctor glances at me, looking a little embarrassed. “Affirmative. We'll check back at eleven hundred hours and provide update on mission status. Signing off.”

“Signing off, sir.”

The radio goes silent. I say, “Thank you, doctor. Thank you so much.”

“It's the least we can do for our new translator,” he says, his voice kind and gentle. “You will help us, right?”

“Absolutamente,”
I answer. “Sorry. I mean, absolutely, yes, of course!”

We arrive at the southern entrance to La Rupa. The three trucks slowly inch forward. Seeing the damage, I am stunned all over again. I'll never get used to this new La Rupa.

We move past the Rodríguezes' little shack. The people standing and sitting there watch us in silence. No one looks surprised to see me in the truck with these soldiers. No one looks happy or scared or anything, really—just numb. Some of the people begin to walk cautiously toward us.

Silently I say a prayer for Dad and Víctor and Ruby. “Please, God, let my family be okay … please let them come home to us …”

As I look at what's left of La Rupa, I have a sick feeling. I say another prayer, this one soft but out loud. “Please, God, let Juan be okay … please, God … please, God, don't let us be too late.”

Before the truck even comes to a full stop, Berti bounds out. But instead of running to the house, she stands still, looking at me and waiting for me to come to her.

Lieutenant Sally parks the truck where the mud makes it impossible to drive any farther. How long until the doctor can see Juan? I try to mentally will us to hurry up the muddy street to our house.

As we get out of the truck, Dr. Albertson asks, “Where is your brother?”

“That is our home,” I answer, pointing up the street. “Juan is there with my mother and many more people.”

“Let's go!” Dr. Albertson says.

As we walk, Dr. Albertson calls to his nurse, Lieutenant Sally. They talk quietly together as we hurry up the muddy road. They wear boots with thick treads, so they are able to pass through the mud more quickly than I can. I struggle to keep up. Berti stays by my side. The doctor and nurse pause at the door to my house, waiting for me and Berti to catch up.

I step past them and walk into the living room. Everybody looks up at me and at the Anglo doctor and the nurse.

I say in Spanish, “This is Captain Dr. Albertson and Lieutenant Nurse Sally. They've come to help us. They don't speak Spanish, but I'll help.”

I look around for my mother and Juan, but they're not here.

“Where's Juan?” I try to ask, but the words stick in my throat.

Mom, carrying Juan on her hip, steps into the room from her bedroom. Juan looks pale and tired, but he's awake and quiet; he stares straight at us. In his right hand he carries C-3PO. I smile at Juan, but his eyes look glassy. He doesn't smile back, but he says in a weak voice, “Berti, you came home!”

Berti wags her tail.

“Pneumonia,” Dr. Albertson says to me.

I translate for Mom, who looks very worried.

Dr. Albertson sees Mom's reaction and quickly adds, “He's going to be just fine. I've given him enough antibiotics to cure a whole village. In situations like this, where there is so much dampness and dirt, bronchitis and pneumonia are quite common. But your little brother is strong, and we got to him early. He needs bed rest and fluids, but he'll be okay.”

My eyes sting again. Thanks, God, I say to myself.

Nurse Sally says to me, “You did well, José. I'm so glad you found us and helped us get here. Good work.” Her kind words make me feel good, but embarrassed too.

I mutter, “I'm just glad you were coming here.” Dr. Albertson smiles at us. Watching him work with Juan, I notice again how large the doctor's hands are as he gently takes Juan's tiny arm and lifts it up.

Dr. Albertson says to me, “It's lucky we met you. The translator for our team, Sergeant Pérez, is on leave. His wife is having a baby. He'll be catching up with us next week, but in the meantime we weren't sure how we were going to manage. You've helped us as much as we've helped you.”

This man saved Juan. He can do no wrong in my eyes.

Now the doctor asks me to translate his words to my mother.

“Mrs. Cruz, you have good boys here,” he says, smiling. I'm a little embarrassed to translate this. The doctor sees my hesitation. “Tell her exactly what I said, José.”

I follow his orders, and my mother smiles and nods. He says, “Mrs. Cruz, you've done a wonderful job helping your neighbors. Now I need to ask you to do even more.”

Dr. Albertson pauses to allow for my translation to catch up. Mom nods as I talk. When I've finished speaking, he adds, “Your home looks like the only secure structure in La Rupa. We need to set up an emergency clinic here just for today. Is that all right with you?”

As I finish my translation, Mom nods and says
“Sí, claro.”

I translate her words: “Yes, of course.”

“Thank you, ma'am,” Dr. Albertson says. “I know that you have family out and unaccounted for. We've put out a search for them, and I'll keep you posted of any developments.”

Mom listens to my translation and just nods and says,
“Gracias.”
There is no change in her expression.

Watching them talk, I'm surprised all over again by how strong and brave my mother is. Mom is just over five feet in height, yet she looks up directly at this tall soldier as he speaks. She doesn't speak English, but she listens carefully to him and watches his expressions, and then listens just as carefully to my translations of his words. She doesn't show how worried she really must be.

The doctor and Nurse Sally begin to move people from one side of the room to another, and Nurse Sally calls out to the other soldiers to hurry and bring up the medical supplies.

“You're first,” she says to me.

“Why? I'm fine. I'm not hurt.”

“Oh, really?” she asks. “These wounds are normal for you?” I look at the spots she points to on my arms and ankles—cuts, scratches, and ugly red splotches on my skin. I honestly hadn't even noticed them until this moment.

Nurse Sally raises her voice, speaking loudly enough so that Dr. Albertson will hear her. “The doctor will tell you these splotches are impetigo. And it's important to clean up the cuts and abrasions, especially with so much infection possible.” Her voice goes even higher. “Doctors love to think that they're the only ones who know such things.”

Dr. Albertson chuckles at her words. He stands at the new pharmacy in the corner of our living room and says over his shoulder, “And nurses, especially when they are outranked, love to think that they know as much as their superiors.”

Nurse Sally laughs too.

Sitting in a chair, Nurse Sally begins to dab my cuts and scratches with medicine. It stings. “Ouch!”

Berti suddenly gets up and hurries over, walking in between us, kind of nudging Nurse Sally away from me.

Nurse Sally looks at Berti and says, “It's okay, doggy. I'm not going to hurt your master.”

I say to Berti, “It's okay, girl.”

Berti stares up at me but doesn't move.

Ángela and María are standing near the hallway to the back of the house. I call to María.

“What, José?”

“Why don't you and Ángela take Berti to the backyard and rinse some of the mud off her?”

Ángela asks, “Can we use the water for that?”

Dr. Albertson says, “Don't use too much, but we've brought a lot of bottled water along, so a little bit would be fine.”

María calls, “Come on, Berti.”

Berti doesn't move. She just stares up at me again.

“Go ahead, Berti,” I say. “Go with María and Ángela. You need to get cleaned up too. Go.”

María taps her hand on her leg and says, “Come, Berti.”

Berti slowly walks over to my sisters, who gently take her by the collar and lead her out the back door.

Nurse Sally finishes cleaning and disinfecting the many scratches and small cuts all over my hands, arms, and ankles. She is gentle, and after that first tiny stinging, the medicine hardly hurts.

I translate for the doctor and nurse as they help everyone else. Mr. Barabon gets bandages for his cut and bruised hands; he says nothing about his two dead children. Mr. Handel, his back bent and his ankle horribly swollen, says nothing about these injuries, nor does he mention losing his wife.

Soon everyone in the village is lined up, sitting or standing quietly, waiting to see the doctor. The children get shots. None of them cry, not even the littlest ones like Miguel Cortez, who lost his mom in the mudslide.

Dr. Albertson tells each patient, “It might be a while before we can get back here. You have to avoid infections and illness the best you can. You must try to stay healthy.”

“Yes,” Nurse Sally adds, “and boil, boil, boil your water, unless it comes straight from a bottle.”

The day drags on. There are several broken fingers and one broken hand, but the problems are mostly sprains and the beginnings of sickness, coughs, and runny noses. No one complains, no one loses their dignity. I'd been so worried about Juan getting sick, and about Dad and Víctor and Ruby, that I hadn't really noticed how many other people were injured.

When the doctor is finally finished with the last patient, one of the soldiers comes in to talk with him. I go to the front door and look out at the town. The soldiers have set up large tents. The sides are rolled up, so I can see inside. There are cots, cooking stoves, cans of cooking fuel, big bottles of water, and packets of food. These shelters are for all the people who have been staying with us, at the Rodríguez place, and with Alfredo's family. There are six large tents with enough room for everyone who needs to stay in one. These soldiers have shown us that we are not alone, that La Rupa has not been forgotten.

Back inside my house, I overhear what the soldier is saying to Dr. Albertson.

“There is nothing more we can do today, sir. We need to head back to San Pedro Sula for the night.”

Dr. Albertson nods to the soldier and then turns to me and says, “We'll be back as soon as we can, José.”

“Thank you,” I say.

“Later in the week,” he adds. “Next week at the latest.”

They've done so much for us, but all I can say is “Thank you,” again.

“Sure …” Dr. Albertson begins, and then says, “Of course, if I receive any word about your father and the others …” He pauses for a second, looking over at Mom, then back to me. “If I hear anything, I'll get word to you immediately.”

I translate his words to Mom. She gives a little smile, but there are tears in her eyes.

Berti and I are standing together in the backyard and I speak to her softly so that only she can hear me. “I wonder what we're going to do now. How will we ever clean up all this mud? And what about the dead people? We haven't even buried them yet.”