Chapter Twenty

  I dreamt I was soaring off a high-dive. I tucked and was about to go into a triple somersault, when a male voice startled me awake.

  “Get up.”

  It was pitch black. It took me a few seconds to shake off the dream and recall where I was. Then, it all came rushing back. My body ached. The blanket that covered me stunk. The room smelled worse. My nose was swollen and my arm felt dislocated. I hadn’t had a shower, or clean clothes, for days. I’d been thrown, literally thrown, into the cell of the prisoner who had ratted me out. Sailors moved him elsewhere.

  The snoring and grunting noises from the cell block during the long night had been deafening. It was like trying to sleep in a room with twenty Jervises. Even if I’d been able to get comfortable on the dirty cot, I couldn’t get my mind off the danger I was in. I was surprised I had actually fallen asleep.

  “You have five minutes. Where’s your boyfriend?” the same male voice asked.

  I laid still with my eyes closed tight. “Who?”

  “I’m Lieutenant Hennessy. Major Conrad wants to see you. What cell is the guy you were talking to in?”

  “Leave my friends out of this.” I sat up. The room started to spin.

  The lieutenant checked his notebook as a middle-aged woman came into view. “Staff Sergeant Jones will take you to a restroom where you can clean up. Tell me which cell your friend is in, or I’ll wake the whole cell block.”

  “I’m not telling you anything.”

  “Great!” The lieutenant went from cell to cell, rattling cages, and demanding information.

  Once inside the portable bathroom, I examined my face in a small mirror. One side was swollen and severely discolored. I could barely open my eye.

  The sky was beginning to lighten as Staff Sergeant Jones and I walked the short distance to the tent that was the combined U.S. Naval and Marine headquarters. She had not said a word.

  We entered the large tent and checked in at a plywood table manned by two Marines. “Wait here,” one of the sailors said. He stood, and walked away.

  We watched him head down a makeshift hall. The area was chaotic. Sailors hurried from room to room carrying boxes. Some full. Many empty. Technicians were under roughly made desks, dismantling electronic equipment. A large generator was rolled past us and out the door.

  The sailor returned. “Major Conrad will see you now,” he said.

  Staff Sergeant Jones saluted and left.

  The door to the office was a flap made from the same white canvas the tent was made from. The sailor folded back one section and motioned for me to enter.

  A gray-haired older man sat behind an actual wooden desk. He held a large portable phone to his ear and motioned for us to sit in the chairs that faced his desk. He turned his back to us and continued his conversation.

  “Sir! The situation here has changed drastically in the last twenty-four hours,” he said and then was silent.

  “Yes. Sir. I understand, Sir. But last night, two Americans were shot trying to cross the border.” He began to pace during a long silence. “No, Sir! But I do not like standing down while my countrymen are being slaughtered.”

  Major Conrad stopped pacing and stood with his back to me. “Yes, Sir,” he replied and then covered the mouthpiece, and sighed.

  I coughed, and covered my mouth.

  He scowled, but stayed with the earpiece on his ear. “The refugees outside the camp have learned we are leaving and are protesting. A number of my men are in the hospital with injuries sustained from these rioters.”

  He shook his head at whatever the person on the other end was saying, then paced back and forth again. “Yes. We have made arrests, Sir. But the refugees here are asking us to leave troops to protect and assist them. And I agree with them, Sir. I’d like permission to leave a sizable force to guard the refugees.”

  He walked swiftly back to his desk and rifled through some papers.

  He ran a finger down the page as he spoke. “Yes, Sir. There is enough fuel for most of the convoy to make it to Santa Barbara, but at least four large transport trucks will have to be left behind. Yes, Sir.” He hung up the phone.

  A young female sailor knocked on the canvas and entered.

  “Yes, private?” Major Conrad said.

  “When do you want to start the evac for the medical teams, Sir?”

  “Yesterday, private.”

  “Sir?” The sailor looked confused.

  “Now!” Major Conrad tidied his desk as he waited for her to leave. “Young lady.” He finally addressed me. “I hear you have been causing quite a stir. My sailors claim you started the riots at the camp entrance, resisted arrest, and broke out of the brig.”

  “I just warned the people,” I mumbled.

  He sat back down and waited for me to continue.

  I focused on his steel gray eyes. “I warned the refugees that the military was pulling out. I didn’t tell them to riot.”

  “Your warning put a number of sailors in the hospital. And the refugees outside the gates are still rioting. A few panicked and tried to cross into Mexico. They were shot and killed by Mexican sailors.”

  Had I really caused all this misery? I thought for a moment. No. The refugees would have learned that the military was leaving. I’d only given them a little warning. “You can’t go away without helping these people. Leave them supplies and some protection,” I said.

  Major Conrad snapped at me. “Are you telling me what I can and cannot do?”

  His tone startled me. Then annoyed me. This man was a Marine officer. “No, Sir. I’m not telling you what to do. However, isn’t protecting civilians part of your job?”

  He pushed his seat back and stood. “And we have been protecting them. The people here have shelter. We have been supplying them with food and medicine.”

  “Three-quarters of the U.S is frozen over. People who stayed in their homes are out of supplies, trapped, and waiting to be rescued. I need sailors to go on rescue missions. If we stay here, what happens to all those waiting for help?”

  “I don’t know, but there has to be a way you can do both,” I said.

  “If these were normal times, you would be brought to justice in a civilian court for your behavior during the protests. But these are not normal times, and I don’t have time to…”

  There was a knock on the door. “Sir, six civilians are outside. They say they represent the refugee camp. They want to talk to you.”

  He frowned. “Is this your doing too?”

  I spun around to see who was waiting. “Maybe.”

  Major Conrad shook his head and glared at me for a long moment.

  “Sir? Should I tell the representatives that this is not a good time?” The private said.

  “No.” He sat back in his chair. “Send them in.”

  Raymond, four men, and a woman entered the small office. Raymond stood behind my chair. I smiled and nodded at him.

  “I see you two know one another.” Major Conrad glared.

  “Sir. My name is Raymond. Toni showed up at my tent. She inspired me and others with her story of survival, and warned us that the military was leaving.”

  A woman sailor went by with a heavy box.

  “Looks like she was right.” Raymond glanced at the sailor and held his hand out.

  Major Conrad ignored Raymond’s outstretched hand. “We have our orders.”

  Raymond pulled his hand back. “I shared her information with the others. Toni told us how she and her friends survived on the sea and then an island. We are hopeful that if we move closer to the mouth of the Tijuana River and beach, we can fend for ourselves, too.”

  Major Conrad scanned his desk. “Our scouts have been searching the area for abandoned farms as well.” He held up a map. “Although many of the buildings have been destroyed, most farms have their own wells. We had hoped to rebuild and relocate refugees onto them. The country needs to start producing food.”

  The woman representative stepped forward. “I’m sure we can find people willing to resettle to the farms. I grew up on a cattle ranch. What kind of farms are you talking about?”

  Major Conrad laid the map across his desk. “Most were citrus groves, but the farmers also raised livestock. Not enough sun for the trees now, but some of the livestock survived. The Department of Agriculture has been working on plans for cold-weather crops. Potatoes should do well here. I’ve requested a large supple of seed potatoes.”

  Raymond stepped in front of me to view the map. “Did Toni tell you that we need troops to help us relocate? We have skills, but we need transportation and protection. Just until we get settled.”

  “Toni did make such a request. I reminded her that her warnings caused, and are still causing, riots.”

  Raymond looked at me. “If the refugees are told that you will leave behind sailors to help us, I’m sure the riots will dissipate.”

  Major Conrad shook his head. “I have my orders. We are pulling out. But I have the authority to leave a small force behind. And, I have some discretion as to when we leave.” He stood and handed a notebook to Raymond. “You and your committee will go back to your tents and prepare a written proposal. You have one hour. I will consider it when I return.”

  He walked around the desk and stopped in front of me. “Miss Toni, you will come with me.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Major Conrad issued orders and answered questions as we made our way through the command building. The worry I saw in the eyes of experienced sailors made me nervous. The chanting at the gate was getting louder.

  The packing continued, although now the men and women glanced at the door uneasily as they went about dismantling the equipment.

  I raced to catch up. “Where are we going?”

  “Sir. You address him as Sir,” a sailor nearby said.

  “We are going to talk to the protestors. I hear you are inspirational. Be prepared to inspire.”

  “Um. Sir?” I said.

  He halted and waited for me.

  “We should stop at the jail and bring the locked-up protestors with us. You said you don’t have time to prosecute them. If you’re going to let them go anyway, why not get them on your side? They can talk to their people. They’ll listen.”

  “To them or to me?”

  I stared up at him. “Both, Sir. But they will trust their own more than they’ll trust you.”

  “That’s just great. After all we’ve done to help. What do you think, Corporal?” He spoke to a sailor walking behind us with an old-fashioned clipboard.

  “She may be right, Sir.” The sailor flipped over a page and made a notation.

  Major Conrad thought for a moment. “Corporal Miller, you are in charge of dismantling and loading up the base. I expect the last convoy to be loaded and ready to go by this afternoon.”

  “Yes, Sir!” Corporal Miller shoved his clipboard under his arm and began barking orders.

  “To the brig,” Major Conrad told the sailors beside me.

  The sky had lightened to its familiar light gray, and I figured it was around mid-morning. There was a damp chill in the air that felt like rain. I wasn’t looking forward to going back to the brig, but I couldn’t wait to see Nick.

  The guards at the front office jumped to attention and saluted when we entered.

  Major Conrad returned the guard’s salute. “I want to speak to the prisoners who were brought in during the recent riots. Is there a conference room?”

  “Yes, Sir!” They both pointed down the walkway.

  One stood. “There’s a large space sectioned off at the end of the hall. Give us five minutes and we’ll move the protestors there.”

  We waited in silence until the guards came and escorted us to the makeshift conference room. There was no door, only the hall opening. Half the space was filled with equipment that was being readied for the move. Six prisoners were lined up in front of the boxes. All looked bruised and disheveled.

  “Nick.” I hurried to him before the guards could stop me. His face was black and blue. “Are you okay?” I threw my good arm around his neck.

  He held on to me for a moment and spoke softly. “I’ve been worried. Where did they take you? I thought…”

  “I’m fine. Just a little banged up.” I stepped back.

  The prisoners leaned in close. They were trying to listen to our conversation.

  I chose my words carefully. “The Marines are still pulling out.”

  The prisoners booed and grumbled.

  I held up my hand. “Major Conrad said he’d help. Please listen with an open mind, okay?”

  An elderly man spat on the floor. “My wife died out there on that cement freeway. We waited two weeks to get in here and ran out of food. You want me to believe the military wants to help us? Too late.”

  Major Conrad looked at me. He was waiting to see what I would do.

  Behind me was a stack of boxes. I let go of Nick’s hand and climbed on top of one.

  One of the rioters said, “I knew I recognized her. She’s the girl who stood on top of the jeep!”

  I faced the crowd. “Yes, I’m the girl who was on top of the jeep. I was trying to stop the protests before anyone got hurt.” I glanced around at the men. “There are almost a thousand people at this camp. The military was not prepared to help so many. The supplies they had have run out.”

  “That doesn’t mean they should just go off and desert us,” one of the men from the cells said.

  I looked at him, and then Nick. “The military can only do so much. Major Conrad has been ordered to find and rescue Americans who are trapped by the ice. We are lucky. We have livable weather, the sea, the Tijuana River, and farms nearby. We have the means to help ourselves. Those who are trapped in the ice cannot say the same.”

  The group of men murmured angrily amongst themselves.

  The guards stepped in front of me.

  “Silence,” one of the guards yelled.

  Major Conrad helped me climb down off the boxes. He began to speak in a soft, but commanding tone. “When we set up this camp, we had plans to house and feed five hundred refugees. As Toni said, we do not have the space or resources to care for the thousands that are here and the hundreds that arrive every week.”

  He began to slowly walk back and forth in front of the men. “I have orders to pull my troops back to Anaheim and Santa Barbara. The only intact hospital in the area is in Anaheim. Most of our troops will head to Santa Barbara, our largest base. We will escort medical teams to some of the hardest hit areas and send patients to the appropriate facility. Before I go, I want to stabilize this community as best I can.”

  Everyone started talking at once.

  “Silence!” the guard yelled again.

  “How soon are you pulling out?” one rioter yelled.

  “Are you leaving any supplies behind?” another cried.

  “What about all the sick and dying? You can’t just go off and leave them!”

  Major Conrad looked at each man as he continued. “We are pulling out today. Doctors will determine which patients will travel with us to the hospital. We will prioritize the young and those with the best chance of recovery. Again, medicine, as well as food, is in short supply. Everywhere. Not just here.”

  Two of the men groaned at the news. They must have had sick family members that didn’t fit into the priority.

  “I will leave Marines behind to help with relocating the camp. I will also ask for Navy volunteers. Once I know how many will stay, I will know what supplies I am comfortable leaving. The Marines who remain will be in charge of all military gear and supplies. That includes any and all food, vehicles, weapons, and tents.” Major Conrad motioned to one of the guards.

  The prisoners began to grumble again. The guards stepped forward.

  I waved my arms. “Listen.” I waited. The men began to settle down. “I know you’re scared. We’ve all lived in fear. It’s our new reality. I believe Major Conrad is trying to do right by us. But, he needs time. He has to organize his troops. We can help him help us by putting a stop to protests and blockades.”

  The elderly man who’d lost his wife stepped forward. “I won’t lift a finger to help that murderer.”

  Major Conrad sat down at his desk. “Take him back to his cell. Anyone else?”

  A guard took the man’s elbow and escorted his out of the room. The remaining men protested.

  “We don’t get to vote on a representative?”

  “If we don’t go along with you, we go back to jail?”

  “I have sailors in the hospital because of your actions. In another place and time, you would be facing jail time or worse. My next order will be to shoot anyone who blocks our way. You have friends and family blockading our way out of here. They need to stop. Reason with them.” Major Conrad looked at his watch and then at me. “Ready?”

  “Yes, Sir.” I clutched Nick’s hand and faced the remaining prisoners. “Please. Come with us. Help us.”

  One by one the men nodded. The guards motioned for them to follow us. A Marine took point. The other waited until we were past, and stepped in to protect our backs.

  “What’s happening, now?” Major Conrad stopped to talk to a Marine hurrying past us.

  We waited between two large white tents. A canvas covered military truck pulled up. Over a dozen Marines climbed out.

  The leader of the men saluted. “Unit Seven reporting as ordered, Sir.”

  Major Conrad saluted back. “Ready the first convoy. We are escorting these six civilians beyond the gate. They are tasked with convincing their people to stop the protests.”

  “Sir?”

  “I have been told that the refugees need to hear we plan to assist them for a while after the camp closes. But, one way or another, in twenty minutes, the convoy will roll out. I will not continue to allow any more disruption to our evacuation or threats to our sailors. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Toni, Mr. Raymond has faith in your abilities to be persuasive. My Marines and I will be visible, but remain at the gate. I give you and your cell mates twenty minutes to talk sense into the protestors.”