The five of them walked over to where Batsa was arguing with the two rental shop guys. The wind picked up, blowing their hair around.
As they approached, Batsa called, “They don’t have any trucks or any vehicles at all.”
Father Booker muttered, “Obviously.”
Batsa said, “The only vehicles they have are motorcycles. They have six Royal Enfield bikes, which have enough horsepower to get us up the mountains where we want to go. They have helmets for a small additional fee.”
Maybe it was just because when the tourists were running around New Mexico in the winter and prices for everything ostensibly doubled just for them, but she was skeptical about the “small additional fee” for the necessary item.
Maxence gathered Batsa back into the group and lowered his voice. “How many of you can ride motorcycles, and by that, I mean that you’ve ridden them often and know how to.”
Five men looked at Dree.
Oh, no.She was not going to be the lame one, here. “I grew up on a sheep farm in New Mexico. Horses went out in the early eighties. Everyone, including me, herded stock to new pastures by riding an ATV or a dirt bike. We also drove dirt bikes out on the sand dunes for fun. I can ride a dang motorcycle.”
With this, the men lifted their heads and regarded each other.
Father Booker intoned, “I have performed missions in South America, Asia, and Africa where motorcycles are the most logical conveyance. I have been proficient for decades.”
Batsa shrugged. “My family went to India every summer when I was growing up. I can ride a scooter in Delhi or Kolkata traffic with the best of them. Surely, I can handle a larger bike.”
Isaak said, “My family makes vodka. I can drive anything from a race car to a motorcycle and everything in between.”
Dree did not see how that correlated, but no one else challenged it, so okay.
Alfonso said, “I own five.”
His statement seemed a little more logical than Isaak’s, so Dree did not quibble.
Maxence shrugged and said, “I can ride a motorcycle, of course.”
No reason given.
All right, but Dree wasn’t going to quibble about that one, either.
Maxence continued, “So if we want this mission to proceed, we will be riding motorcycles. We’ll have to divvy up some of the supplies into the saddlebags, but we’ll probably be wearing backpacks while we ride. Is everyone okay with that?”
All the men guffawed and assured him they were more than fine with that.
That was not the proper way to phrase a question where the answer might have people’s lives riding on it. Dree had learned medical questioning techniques in nursing school.
Dree spoke up. “So, it looks like we’re going to be wearing unwieldy backpacks while we’re riding these motorcycles. I saw a lot of unpaved roads barely cut into the sides of mountains while we were landing. It’s going to be mountains on one side of the road, sheer cliffs on the other. Does anyone feel uncomfortable with the thought of riding a motorcycle while wearing an unwieldy backpack over roads that might be rutted, or maneuvering around large obstacles like fallen rocks?”
Father Booker folded his hands in front of himself as if in contemplation, and then he made purposeful eye contact with Dree. “I am more than proficient at riding a motorcycle, and I believe that my expertise is valuable on this mission. However, if it comes to a point where I feel that I am unsafe or endangering others, I will return to Jumla and then Kathmandu. I assume everyone will do the same?”
Dree liked Father Booker. He was sane.
And so, under the wan winter sunlight, the six team members unpacked the medical supplies from the cardboard boxes and stuffed them into the saddlebags that some of the motorcycles had, and then they found room for the rest of the supplies in the extra pockets of the backpacks.
Dree asked Maxence, “You said something about tents?”
His breath puffed out, and he scowled. “Dammit. Batsa! Do they have the damn tents?”
They did indeed have tents, but they only had three.
Dree could tell from looking at the tiny little sticks and scanty amount of fabric that they would only sleep two people each.
And even then, those big guys had better be pretty good friends.
