Survivor Song(54)
Dan says, “It’s Natalie, right? You can ride in the cab with me. The rest of you can sit in the truck bed if you want.”
Josh says, “Hell yeah. You’ll be getting us closer to home.”
“Yeah, we’re done out here,” says Luis.
Ramola thanks Dan, takes Natalie’s hand, and leads her between the silently apoplectic camo pair. As they scoot around to the passenger side, Natalie whispers into Ramola’s ear, “What’s in the trailer? Can’t be good.” It wasn’t visible until they walked around the front grille, but there’s a small rectangular, two-wheeled trailer hitched to the truck. Its four side panels are metal, painted black, and maybe two feet in height. A large green drop cloth is draped over whatever its contents may be.
Ramola rises up on her tiptoes but only sees more of the lumpy canvas. “I don’t know.” Questions of what these men are doing and why they are knocking on the doors of local homes are neon warning signs flashing in her head, but she isn’t going to ask them. All she wants is a ride to the clinic. She tries the truck door handle, and it is locked.
Josh and Luis walk their bikes to the truck saying, “Excuse me” and “Beg pardon” and “Right-o” and “After you” and “I insist” and “Hardly” and other random acknowledgments and apologies using obnoxious and dreadful British accents.
The Tree steps in front of the teens, preventing them from lifting their bikes into the cargo bed. He whines to Dan, his voice increasing in pitch as he talks impossibly fast and without a pause for a breath. “Did you read the Reddit I sent about the UN conspiring with the deep state to manufacture and spread the virus so they can swoop in and save the day with new vaccines to fool the public into thinking the other vaccines they force on us are safe and how they dropped the green bait packs and used veterinarians and pediatricians to spread this virus and continue to monitor the progress in hospitals?”
From his jacket’s deep pockets, the other camo man pulls out a couple green rabies vaccination bait packs, ones the Wildlife Service has been dropping locally for weeks now. He says, “We’ve been telling you, Dan. These damn things even have French instructions on them. This is global biological warfare.” He steps toward the teens and shakes the packs inches from Josh’s head.
Luis says, “Watch out, he’s gonna give you the government rabies.”
Dan shakes his head and says, “Guys, come on.” Ramola notices a physical resemblance among Dan and the camo men beyond their bearded middle-aged white-maleness. If they’re not brothers, they’re cousins. Regardless, Dan now seems less like their leader than a person with a truck, a hitch, and a trailer. He adds, “I’m not arguing with you over this. I’m giving a pregnant woman a ride.” He walks around to the back of the truck.
The Tree says, “And she just happens to show up with a foreign doctor—what are you doing?”
“I’m unhitching the trailer, leaving it here if you need it. We’ll reattach when I get back.”
Natalie says, “Let’s go. We need to go.” She yanks on the door handle. “It’s locked.”
Dan pauses his work with the trailer to unlock the door with two chirps from his key fob.
Natalie opens the door, and as Ramola helps her into the car seat she talks to herself. “You’re okay, you’re still here, this is happening, out of the woods, over the river, through the woods . . .” and her mumbles deteriorate into repeated words that don’t build into phrases. Stray words further devolve into throat clearings and hard, empty swallows.
Ramola says, “We’re almost there. I promise,” and remembers what Natalie said earlier about the value of promises.
“I’m really tired.” Natalie’s slow head nods morph into palsy-like shakes. She stares out the windshield.
Ramola drags the cranky seat belt across Natalie’s front, making sure the lap belt is below her belly, and buckles her in. Instead of another verbal checkin, pep talk, or feckless well-wishes, Ramola quickly backs out of the cab as though being chased. She shuts the door. She’s tired too.
Dan has dragged the small trailer to the road’s shoulder and he and the camo men are in the middle of an argument.
The Tree says, “You act like you’re above us all. Treat us like we’re dumb and crazy.”
“That’s because your conspiracy theories are dumb and crazy,” Dan says.
“So your Twitter guy is better than our Reddit?”
Dan walks away from the trailer and yells, “I am better than your goddamn Reddit.”
The other camo man says, “You’re wrong, Dan. Head in the sand like always. This is just the beginning of an attempted overthrow. But an army of patriots is on their way to stop it and keep the virus from spreading. They’re gonna do what needs to be done and we should be doing more to help them.”
Josh and Luis take advantage of the argument to climb into the truck and stow their bikes. Standing in the truck bed, each with one foot up on a side panel, the teens push themselves up higher for a better view of the other men approaching the houses. Luis calls out, “Hey, Dr. Ramola, those guys in tan shirts are animal control.”
Why is Luis telling her this? She doesn’t need to know that; she needs to get Dan in the truck and get the truck turned around. The rest of whatever fascist fantasy nonsense these men are up to can go on without her and Natalie. She says, “Dan! We must get Natalie to the clinic, now. She’s overtaxed, dehydrated—” She pauses. What if Dan offers Natalie water in the truck cab? She won’t be there to prevent him from doing so. And there are Josh and Luis with their water bottles still hanging around their necks. What would these appalling men do if they witnessed Natalie’s hydrophobia? Ramola stammers to a pleading finish. “She needs an IV and care. We simply must go without any more delay.”