Burn District 1 Page 2

  We thought we’d like the mountains of southern California and our conversation was dotted with San Diego and Pacific Ocean and seventy-degrees year round. Those were our private plans, however. We’d give Arizona as long as we could.

  “Who knows where we’ll end up? If they start burning out west, we won’t have a choice. We’ll have to go to Mexico,” Mike had said.

  “Or Canada.”

  “Canada is too cold,” he’d replied. I knew he was right. Wherever we went it had to be possible to live simply, which meant no snowy winters. We feared the border to Mexico would close if the influx of Americans fleeing the U.S. became too great.

  The chatter around me as we traveled was peppered with laughter. Randy turned around in his seat so he could argue with Kelly about a rumor he’d heard. After a burn occurred on prime land, a construction team from the National Guard would come in to prepare the area for new homes. Heavy equipment bulldozed everything until it was flat, pristine, buildable land.

  “Camden, New Jersey is prime real estate.”

  “Who’d want to live there?” Randy said, sneering.

  “Think about all those small towns along the Delaware River. It’s a fabulous location, the view of Philly amazing. Waterfront property, crammed with hundred-year-old row homes,” Kelly said. “Instead of acres of row homes, there will be room for mansions. Rich people would love it there.” I agreed with her, as outlandish as it sounded, but because I knew Mike wouldn’t agree, I kept my mouth shut.

  “What a great reason to kill people!” Carol said.

  The younger children were plugged into Nintendo, so I didn’t have to worry about the conversation upsetting them. Elise was taking in every word, however. She was interested in what was going on and I was glad about it. Soon, she’d be forming her own opinions.

  We spent the next hours looking out the window at flat land until we got to New Mexico. The highway running through the center of Albuquerque was jammed with cars, most we saw loaded with belongings. Many were also pulling trailers. We saw a lot of out of state license plates.

  But what was even more disturbing were the hundreds of people walking along the side of the highway, many pushing strollers piled with belongings, or pulling wagons. We could see families; small children rode on shoulders or peeked out under belongings.

  “Oh how sad,” Elise said. Carin started to weep, doing her best to hide it from us.

  “Dad! Can’t we stop and pick them up?” Junior cried out.

  “We don’t have room for all of them,” Randy said gently. “I’m hopeful a big bus will come by and pick everyone up.” Suddenly, cars veered onto Interstate 25. The mass exodus took the focus off the hoards of foot traffic.

  “Where’s everyone going?” Junior asked, distressed. “Should we be following?”

  “No worries, Junior,” Mike said soothingly. “They’re probably headed to Colorado and points north.”

  “What about the cars that are heading south?” Junior replied, anxiously. I hid a smile while Mike chuckled. My son may be childlike, but he was observant.

  “They might be headed to the border,” Randy answered. “There’s a crossing into Mexico at the end of that road.”

  “Why don’t we go to Mexico?” Carin asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Randy answered when no one responded. Why indeed?

  “I like it here,” Mike finally said. “I hope this is just a phase our country is going through, like other countries have upheaval. We’ve been so lucky for such a long time.”

  “I hope that’s all it is,” I answered. “Just a phase. Because I love it here, too. I’ve always said I didn’t want to go to Europe because it scared me to leave the safety of our country. Ha! That’s a laugh.”

  “Are you scared now?” Junior asked. I’d backed myself into a corner with him; it was easy to do.

  “I might be if I was alone,” I answered. “But I’m here with Daddy and with you and the others, and grandpa and grandma. And Grandpa Steve is waiting for us at our new house.”

  “So in other words, you’re scared,” Elise replied sarcastically. Everyone in the car laughed, including Junior. As long as he was laughing, I wouldn’t worry about him.

  “Yes, I guess I’m a little worried about living with everyone in a trailer.” More laughter followed, and then quiet contemplation.

  In less than five hours we’d reach Flagstaff and head south. We were going to drive all night again, Mike, Randy and Kelly taking turns and if we only stopped for gas, would arrive in Tulip in the morning. I didn’t care how meager our future home was, I just wanted to see my dad and set up our life, even if we had to live in a tent.

  Chapter 2

  Laura

  “We’re almost there!” Randy yelled. It was just sunrise, and I felt its heat and saw the bright steely light coming in through the van windows. I sat up, stiff and tired, and looked ahead through the windshield. The land was as desolate as I remembered, flat desert surrounded by mountains, and in the distance, the new fence erected to keep Mexican citizens from crossing the border illegally. It was ugly, a tall, black-mesh icon to what the United States had become. Illegal entries had diminished suddenly; who’d want to come to a country where the citizens weren’t even safe? Now it stood as a testament to the mess we were in.

  Randy pulled off the interstate and wound through a sparsely populated rural village. No one was outdoors at that early hour; I thought odd. Someone should be waiting at the bus stop or in their yard, feeding the lone horse or donkey, or the small flock of goats. Adobe bungalows juxtaposed with wooden cottages painted bright colors that stood out in the desert. Turquoise, orange and yellow dotted the landscape. The houses were built closer together as we drove deeper into the village of Tulip.

  There was a taco stand on one corner, a gas station combined with a small grocery store on another, signage in Spanish. It was a hundred miles from Yuma. I was glad the area was unpopulated, but I could tell Carol and Randy had expected a more suburban location.

  “Where do these people shop?” Carol asked.

  “There’s shopping in some of the small towns along the interstate,” Mike answered. We were avoiding making eye contact; the last thing I needed were complaining in-laws; he’d remind me later that he wanted his parents to make their own plans.

  “We need to try to be self-sufficient,” Kelly said. “If the time comes that suppliers are unable to stock stores, we’ll be happy we made the effort.”

  “I’m pretty sure that time is already here,” Randy said.

  “I’m ready for anything,” Elise said, waking up. “I brought my canning books and the seeds I’ve hoarded. I’ll ask Grandpa Steve to get us a sheep so we can have wool to spin into yarn. Then we can weave our own cloth. Grannie, you’ll love it, you’ll see.”

  “I hope so,” Carol said doubtfully.

  “We have a sewing machine and fabric, we can quilt. You’d love that, right?” Carin asked. I was so proud of my daughters, teenagers trying to encourage a fifty-five year old woman suffering from fear and negativism.

  “They have a twelve-month growing season,” Kelly said, waving a seed catalog.

  “It’s the salad capital of the world,” Elise added, grabbing the catalog, pointing out the seeds she wanted to Kelly. “Oh, I can’t wait.” I reached forward and patted her shoulder, not sure how we’d order seeds without a checking account or a credit card, forgetting there’d be no place left to order seeds.

  “The first thing we need to do is add to your seed hoard by going into town and seeing what’s for sale,” I said. Mike turned around and nodded his head.

  “Good idea,” he replied. “Who knows? We might even be able to get those animals Elise wants. We’ll have to ask your father.”

  “He bought the land to farm after he retired. Well now’s a good a time as any! This looks like the prefect place.” Before long, we were approaching my father’s property. The land was arid, with poofs of gray-green autumn sage, silvery globe mallow
and lacy fronds of mountain marigold. I rolled the window down and took a deep breath; the herbal fragrance of the sage and lemony marigold bringing back memories of my mother, and my childhood. Randy turned the van and it bounced through the gate, the trailer following down the long driveway. I saw the fifth wheel, and my father’s truck far up ahead.

  “There he is!” I shouted as he walked around from behind the rig. Randy beeped the horn and my dad stopped and looked up, and ran toward us waving madly, a big grin on his face apparent from down the road. The boys yelled Grandpa! as we piled out of the van.

  Everyone stood back while I hugged my dad. We hadn’t seen each other in long time, since before my mother died. He looked great to me, young and fit and healthy. We spent the next minutes emptying the trailer and getting it parked where he wanted it to be, out of sight. In spite of being a mile off the road, the house and outbuildings were in clear view because the land was so flat. “If anything’s going to get ripped off it’ll be this trailer,” Steve told Mike. “I might even booby trap it, just to be safe.” The boys started laughing hysterically, the word for the day booby trap.

  “So, are you ready to see your new home?” he asked me. It was a three-bedroom singlewide. Kelly and my in-laws knew they were going to have to share the fifth wheel with my dad because the house was barely big enough for a family of six. The kids would double up; I was nervous about its condition. But when we got inside, I saw that my dad had spruced it up with new mattresses and upholstered pieces.

  “When’d you get this stuff?” I asked.

  “I shopped as soon as I got here. A few of the stores were still open last week.” The rest of the furniture was all the same stuff we had thirty years ago; Formica table with vinyl chairs and bamboo bar stools, step tables from the fifties and a colonial-style rocker I remembered my mother sitting in, reading to us. The lamps on the step tables were horrors from the fifties; Oriental ladies with wooden yokes across their backs like water buffalo, a small bucket holding a dusty plastic plant at the end of each one.

  “Oh my god, these lamps!” I cried. “I remember when Mom bought the pair from some guy at the flea market.” Everyone joined in the derision of the lamps. It was therapeutic at the expense of my mother’s decorating.

  “You laugh, but I saw them on eBay for four hundred bucks,” Steve said defensively.

  “Well, you better list them right away,” Randy said.

  “Nope, I think I’ll hold on to ‘em, let the kids fight over ‘em after I croak.” Croak, another word added to my son’s lexicon, their laughter and giggling sounding wonderful.

  The kitchen had a harvest gold refrigerator and stove, a gold enameled sink, aluminum canisters. Elise and Carin were in heaven.

  “This is exactly the kind of kitchen I’d have in my own place,” Elise said. Steve put his arm around her shoulder.

  “You’re the first woman besides your grandmother who ever said she liked it, so you can have it when you grow up.” We all laughed. I wasn’t sure if she was just being polite, or if she really meant it, but when I saw her running her hands over the beige counters with turquoise and pink boomerangs, I thought she might have been serious about it.

  “I even like the floor,” she said, looking at the bright red faux brick vinyl.

  “I replaced the old linoleum with that about thirty years ago,” Steve said.

  “Well, this is going to be a fine place to live while we’re here,” I said, kissing his cheek. “Thank you, Dad.”

  “Come on, let’s go look at my rig.” We followed him out to the fifth wheel. It was new, shiny and modern. The kitchen was nicer than my kitchen at home, with granite counter tops and stainless steel appliances.

  He’d fixed up the master suite for Randy and Carol, who were moved at his generosity. They had a television and reading lights; plenty of space to be alone.

  “Kelly, you get the front berth. It’s private and spacious, if you don’t mind climbing up this little ladder.” He’d allotted the big space to my friend just because she was my friend.

  “Thank you so much,” she said, kissing his cheek. “I’ll be very comfortable up there. It’s like a private cave.”

  “Dad, where are you going to sleep?” He pointed to the bunk beds in a separate slide out. There were two sets of bunks.

  “If the kids ever want to stay with us, I have all this room.” Each berth had its own DVD player that came out of the bunk above it.

  “I’ll stay with grandpa,” Ned said.

  There was also a large dinette booth and a recliner loveseat. They’d be very comfortable. The only problem I saw was the bathroom situation, but the trailer had two bathrooms, so they were welcome to come to our house anytime.

  “Well, I’m beat,” my dad said. “I imagine you all are about ready to keel over.” Randy was already lying on the bed, playing with the TV remote.

  “If it’s okay with you, Steve, I’ll cook dinner tonight. I need to do something normal,” Carol said. I was worried about her, but didn’t say anything.

  “Yes, normal would be nice,” I said.

  “Whatever you want to do is fine. I don’t want to take it for granted that the women will take over the kitchen, but I’d prefer it if you want to.” We filed out of the fifth wheel while Mike went back to the trailer to take a nap. An outbuilding had outdoor furniture in it that my dad and the rest of us started to unload, arranging chairs around the fire pit. We wanted a place to hang out together in the evening.

  “We need to go to the grocery store,” Carin said. “We have enough canned tuna for a year. And Vienna sausages. Mom, what were you thinking?”

  “Dad likes them,” I said laughing.

  “I’ll take you shopping after we get settled,” Kelly said then turning to me. “You okay with that, Mom?”

  “Dad, what do you think? Will three women be okay alone?” I’d temporarily forgotten that danger lurked everywhere as long as there was a sky overhead. I listened for airplane engines.

  “It’s safe here,” he said. “Safer than where you come from. Just don’t talk to strangers.”

  “We can rest this afternoon and go tomorrow,” Kelly said. I realized it was going to be nice having so many of my usual responsibilities divided up with other women. I was grateful my daughters were taking control of the kitchen, too.

  With everyone staking their claim to territory, my father and I sat down together and watched the traffic on the road in the distance.

  “In years past, I’d be nervous if I saw more than a car a day drive down that road,” he said. “Now, we have a steady stream.”

  “Do you think it has anything to do with what’s going on back east?”

  “I’m afraid so,” he admitted. “Haven’t had a chance to talk to any locals yet. I know it’s getting built up around here, but not this much, this fast.”

  “Did you see a lot of burned areas on your way?” I looked over my shoulder, knowing I was being paranoid, that no one could hear me.

  My dad sunk down low in his chair, minimizing his stature. I thought of how our situation had beaten us up in such a short time, even my dad, a decorated war hero from the Persian Gulf was frightened by what was happening. “I did,” he said softly. “When I drove at night, along I 10, I could see fires in the distance. I knew they bombed cities, but this looked like farms and small, isolated places. I don’t understand.” Nodding my head in agreement, I was too tired to get into an in-depth conversation with him about what I believed was happening, that it was genocide at its worst. He wouldn’t understand. My dad was a Marine for thirty years, just recently retired. The leaders of the country he served with love wouldn’t be capable of such a thing.

  “I’m glad Stephanie is gone,” he said referring to my mom. “I can’t see her able to cope with it.”

  “Me either. She’d be so angry. She’d definitely be a leader of the rebellion.” Steve looked at me.

  “Do you think so?”

  “Oh, yes. Mom concealed who she reall
y was because it wasn’t considered feminine. I saw her in action many times. Once at her work she’d taken me with her for an emergency. You were overseas somewhere. The call person wasn’t answering their phone and there was a big trauma case pending. ‘I can come but I have to bring my kid with me,’ she said.

  ‘Now you have to be good,’ she told me. ‘Jenna is staying with the Martin’s, but I want you to come with me.’ Later, she told me Jenna was old enough to leave if Mr. Martin started to drink, but since I was only six, she didn’t trust them with me. When we got to the hospital, she dressed me in the smallest scrubs they had, but they were still gigantic. I loved it! She put a hair cap and shoe covers on me. I felt like a real operating room nurse. I sat at the control desk all night while she worked; peeking out the door at me from time to time to make sure I was okay. I think it’s why I decided never to practice nursing.” We started laughing.

  “It was hard on your mother when I had to leave,” Steve said.

  “Well, that’s not why she got sick, Dad. You know that, right? I mean, don’t take on guilt because she was mentally ill.” I noticed traffic had slowed down, not a car in sight for a long while.

  “I didn’t see it coming.”

  “She did fine when you were gone. We never felt unsafe. I asked Jenna once and she said she had no idea there was a problem until Mom ran away.”

  “You know I had to tell Jenna, in case Stephanie showed up at her door.” My poor dad. My mother took off while he was deployed. Ned was a baby, so I couldn’t go. Poor Jenna was in the midst of a bitter divorce. My dad had to go to his commanding officer, the general and tell him his crazy wife ran away from home and he needed time off to look for her. It was a difficult time for him.

  “Dad, I’m really sorry.”

  He cracked a laugh. “If it was the worst thing I ever have to do I would’ve been the luckiest guy in the world. Look what you and Mike had to go through.” I honestly didn’t know what he was talking about and the realization hit me.