Amanda's Story (7 page)

“Dad, I think that's a vulture. Look at its bald head and legs.” He adjusted the zoom on the lens. “Vultures aren't that big.” Having negotiated the last body, the woman turned and faced them.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Munoz senior said and quickly made the sign of the cross.

“Oh, fuck!” Jorge said. Her face and arms were covered in sores that ran red with blood and pus. He looked lower and found the blisters covering her legs as well. “We can't let her in, Dad,” he said flatly.

“Let's get out of here,” Luis said. Jorge turned the boat on its keel and sped out to sea.

“Tela is a city of thirty-two thousand. It has been mostly evacuated, but the military estimates that there are at least two hundred citizens that remained along with military and police personnel.” Bernice was virtually screaming. The only space that could be found for their group was a corner in a military hangar. The collective voices of hundreds of soldiers, along with jet engines in the distance and helicopter engines in the foreground, echoed throughout the massive structure. “Unfortunately, the only road connecting Tela with the rest of the world was washed away last night. As a result, we need to pare down our supplies to the bare essentials because we are catching a ride with the Honduran air force. Who's ridden in a helicopter before?” Bernice excitedly raised her arm, but only two others in the group of fourteen joined her.

Amanda's heart sank. For obvious reasons she was not a big fan of flying, and now she would have to fly in something without wings.

“We are going to have to scale back our goals, at least until we can re-establish reliable transportation.”

“So you're saying that helicopters are not reliable?” It was one of the two physicians who now asked the very question that had popped into Amanda's head.

“For those of you who do not know Dr. Greenburg's history, he started out as a standup comedian, but turned to medicine after nearly starving.” Everyone laughed at the not-so-inside joke. Dr. Greenburg easily tipped the scales at three hundred pounds.

“Now, as I was saying, we're going to have to make do with less for a while, but we still have critical objectives. First and foremost is communications. Next is medical. The two-hundred-plus estimate may be wildly inaccurate—and remember, that's just for Tela; it doesn't include the surrounding villages. Triage will be critical. Review your manuals, and if in doubt, ask someone.” Bernice's gaze casually wandered Amanda's way. “Does everyone have their PDAs?” Half the group waved their devices in the air. “Good. I've updated everyone's responsibility for the next three days.” She turned to Dr. Greenburg. “I figure that's how long it will take before the trucks and all the rest of our equipment will take to reach us. Oh, one more thing before I turn it over to the general. There is word that the hospital ship
Mercy
will be on site in two days, so we may get resupplied directly from the Navy. Now let me introduce General Regara of the Honduran Air Force.”

“Good afternoon, and welcome to my country. I want to thank each one of you for assisting us in this time of need.” General Regara was a small, compact man with the same thick dark mustache that adorned every Honduran soldier. “We plan to use six helicopters, two for personnel, two for supplies, and a final pair for a security escort. I know that this is not something we discussed …” He directed his last comment to Bernice Scott. “But we are getting some confusing reports from the area about possible looting. It is my responsibility to ensure your safety. These men will also be available to assist you with setting up your camp and crowd control if it is needed. They are not authorized to direct or impede your movements, within the confines of our law. They will also carry additional communication equipment and can help with the local dialects.” The general paused, waiting for questions or comments.

“Well, I for one think it's a great idea. Now I have someone to do all my heavy lifting,” Dr. Greenburg joked.

“Please don't expect to be carried, Doctor; we don't need a bunch of soldiers with hernias,” Bernice answered, and even General Regara chuckled.

“We plan to land at the airport if it is at all possible. Unfortunately, the airport in Tela is fairly close to the sea, and we expect at least a moderate degree of damage. We have chosen a backup landing site located approximately two kilometers from town if the airport is unsafe. This may mean that you will have to walk to Tela on your own. Perhaps we can find a good strong burro for the Doctor.” The group began to loosen up, and their laughter was a bit more natural. “Logistically, the airport is probably the best location for you to set up camp, but as I said, we expect some storm damage and you may find no habitable structures.” He paused for a response to this unexpected inconvenience.

“It's all right, Colonel; all of us have slept outside before,” Bernice answered for the group.

“Excellent. We will be shuttling in supplies for you once a base camp has been set up, and I believe the second trip will include additional tents and cots. You may not be completely comfortable, but at least you'll be off the ground and dry.” He received a confirmatory nod from one of his staff and then continued his briefing. “We had hoped for two more disaster teams to be deployed in the area, but as it will take most of our airlift capability to position your team, I'm afraid until a stable ground corridor can be established you will be on your own in that respect. That may change if the airport and local roads can be cleared quickly. The trip will take approximately seventy-five minutes, and we hope to leave as soon as possible to give you enough time to walk into Tela and set up your base camp before sunset.”

“Can you update us on the conditions of the local utilities?” asked one of the male volunteers.

“All the power lines were above ground and we must assume that they are gone. Cell phone towers are down, and all telephone service has been cut off.”

“So in short, all we have is radio communication.”

“For now,” the general answered.

“What about emergency medical flights out?” Doctor Jorgenson, the second of the two physicians on the team, asked.

“For now we have only minimal capacity to deal with emergencies, both from a transport capability and a medical capability. Even here in El Progresso, we are overwhelmed.” His pained expression made it obvious that he was uncomfortable discussing his country's limitations. “I am sorry to say but the care that you deliver is probably the best care available.”

“Well, at least we know that we're working without a safety net,” the doctor observed.

“What is the condition of the town itself?” another volunteer asked.

“We have had no radio contact with the local garrison, so the only information comes from a handful of civilian broadcasts and a single reconnaissance overflight. It appears as if all multi-story structures have sustained damage as far as a kilometer inland, and the roads appear to be impassable.”

“Could be worse—could be raining,” the second volunteer quipped in his best Marty Feldman impersonation.

“Okay, let's get loaded and let's get started. If it's nothing else, it will be exciting.” Bernice jumped to her feet and vigorously pumped the general's hand while Amanda and the rest of the team began to gather their personal effects and move them to the flight line.

“I've done this for eight years and I can't remember ever going into a situation with so little backup,” Mary Ecklers, the team's senior nurse, said as she came alongside Amanda. She was a dour, overweight woman in her fifties, and she struggled with an enormous rucksack.

Amanda slung her smaller backpack over her shoulder and began to help Mary stabilize her cumbersome load. “What do you have in here?” Amanda asked, feeling its weight.

“As much of my bedroom and bathroom as I could carry,” Mary said, finally getting her arms through the straps. “Thanks. So this is your first time. I would have recommended somewhere else. This one is shaping up to be a real corker.”

“How so?” The impending helicopter flight and having only a vague understanding of her responsibilities were already beginning to take a toll on Amanda's nerves. Mary's trepidation added to Amanda's growing discomfort.

“No trucks means that we take in only a fraction of the supplies that we depend on. They'll ferry some of the lighter things in by chopper, but with the coastal mountains between here and Tela they're not going to risk overloading one of these little birds with our big generators, or sterilizers, or a half dozen other things that make our lives and jobs easier.” She motioned Amanda towards a ridiculously small helicopter.

“That's what we're taking? It looks more like a traffic helicopter than a transport.”

“Welcome to the third world.” They had reached the flight line and two soldiers reached for Amanda's smaller backpack, leaving Mary to struggle alone. “Ahem,” she said loudly to their backs, but before they had turned a third soldier lifted her rucksack from her shoulders and very nearly took her as well. She turned to find a huge man in an ill-fitting, sweat-stained uniform. He smiled down at her and she mumbled, “Gracias.”

“If it rains I'm going to stand under him,” Amanda said as the large man one-handed the heavy bag over to the nearest helicopter.

“Not on your life. You can have your two little caballeros, but that one's mine. What's Spanish for bear?” She asked Amanda, but one of the soldiers had overheard.

“Oso,” he said, with Amanda's backpack around his arm. “But oso also means ‘the fool,' so I would not suggest calling Miguel ‘oso.'” He smiled.

Both the ladies blushed. “Okay, that was dumb of us. Do you all speak English?” Mary asked.

“Everyone in our unit speaks English, Spanish, and at least some Mayan.” He was having fun with their embarrassment. “You better hurry. Your helicopter is going to leave without you.” He pointed at a second helicopter and turned away.

Within minutes the pair, along with four others, were being strapped into the small helicopter. They each had been given a pair of headphones that had more than a passing similarity to a pair of coffee cups on end. “How do we communicate?” Amanda asked the copilot after he finished checking her harness. He smiled and apologetically shook his head. He climbed into the front seat and the engine began to whine. She scrambled to put on the bulky headphones as the pitch started to become uncomfortable and realized with near panic that no one had closed the cabin's door. She had been the last to board the craft and had the seat closest to the now gaping exit. She tried to reach for the pilot but was firmly held by the harness. She tried screaming, but not even Mary, who sat next to her, responded. The helicopter took off at an impossible angle and Amanda clutched the arm strap above and the seat cushion below, not daring to look outside as the military base and the city of El Progresso passed beneath them. The wind buffeted her face and her short hair whirled madly.

Mary tapped Amanda's hand and she opened her eyes. The older woman was yelling something, but it wasn't until Amanda took off her headphones that she understood. “Next time force your way into the back seat.” She made spinning motions with her hands as the air swirled around them.

Amanda nodded and pointed at the yawning maw of the open sliding door.

“Typical,” Mary yelled, as if the omission held no threat.

It took almost an hour of flying before Amanda was comfortable enough to ease her numb hand out of the leather strap that hung from the metal ceiling. She braved a look out the cabin door and found that they had descended below the low clouds. The dark green of the jungle seemed to extend all the way to the blue of the sea, and she began to gauge their progress with the approaching shoreline. When the sea seemed so close that Amanda was certain that they had missed their landing site, the pilot leveled off just above the tree tops of the dark green jungle. She watched as the thick canopy began to thin and finally gave out altogether as open fields that once were farms slipped beneath them. She surveyed the storm's damage and after several minutes hadn't found a single upright structure. They swung inland slightly and passed over the smashed airport. The tower and the antennas were scattered in ruin across the single runway, and shards of glass reflected the brilliant afternoon sun. Mary was leaning into Amanda and yelled that there was no chance of landing here. The pilot had reached the same conclusion and banked sharply to the left. It was now Amanda in Mary's lap as both women scrambled for their ceiling straps.

They doubled back into the jungle and found a clearing big enough for three of their six helicopters. Just before touching down, Amanda spotted a soccer goal high in one of the trees. The landing was surprisingly soft, and the copilot was unstrapping Amanda before the rotors had even slowed. He helped her out of the helicopter a little too aggressively and she landed on her knees in wind-whipped, waist-high grass. She scrambled out of the way as the rest of the passengers made less than graceful exits from the helicopter. Doctor Greenburg was the last out, and he nearly fell face first into the grass after his foot caught on the door railing. The copilot helped the man to his feet and then forcefully directed him to follow the other passengers to the far end of the disused soccer field. Seconds after the doctor had cleared the rotors, the helicopter took off at a thirty degree angle; it was quickly replaced by a helicopter packed to the ceiling with supplies.

“That pilot has watched too many Viet Nam movies,” Greenburg said as he neared the small band. He turned along with the rest of the team to watch the platoon of soldiers quickly empty the helicopter of its supplies and then execute the same emergency take-off. “What's their hurry?” he asked.

“Sunset is two hours away. I'm guessing they don't get too many hours flying over the mountains at night,” a voice from the group answered. Amanda thought it came from one of the four volunteers.

“What about the second trip, and our additional supplies?” asked another voice Amanda didn't recognize.

“Get used to disappointment. You will be told a lot of things down here, but only a few of them will actually be true,” Doctor Greenburg added sourly as he flopped his mass into the tall grass. “Somebody wake me when things get organized.”

“So how was it?” Bernice Scott suddenly appeared at Amanda's side.