And so, while the worker bees flew about putting up the tents and shuffling supplies in what seemed to be miraculous time, Rylee stood out of the way.
Dakota got busy wandering amongst the backpacks and supplies on the off chance that things weren’t on the up and up from the get-go. By doing an initial sweep, he could testify in court that he had done his due diligence.
Dakota had Tank sniff everything.
Then Tank got a pair of booties, and the two of them took off to see if they could lend Cerberus a hand digging out the people trapped in the hotel collapse.
Rylee, trying to stay out of the way, decided to head over to the tiny municipal airport to see if their hangar areas would be a good place to use for a medical team if Mandy was successful in finding a disaster medical assistance team routed their way.
Everyone was trying to get their hands on medical supplies along with field-deployable doctors and nurses. Mandy said to expect a medical unit from Egypt by Tuesday. That was the same day that WorldCares Team Mike would arrive. Later than expected. But, after reviewing satellite imagery of the village, Logistics decided to bring in heavy equipment to move cement walls and lift roofs.
Was that too many days?
Yes.
Given the scope of the disaster zone and the number of people affected, it was fortunate they were able to connect their supply cars to a train and head in the right direction. Everyone was scrambling for limited resources and access to open delivery routes.
Standing in the yawning opening of the hangar, Rylee thought it would be adequate for maybe a hundred people.
The elder, who had escorted her over, showed Rylee the three shower stall areas, with their slimy-looking cement floors and rusted showerheads. Compared to Afghanistan, this was luxe. The toilets were the variety that had ceramic footrests while you squatted over a hole, then filled an orange plastic jug with water from the spigot to pour behind you. The TP was tissue paper-thin. Rylee would remember to bring her own roll with her when she needed the facility. It was nice that she wouldn’t be squatting over a hole she dug in the dirt.
Her mini tour brought her to the glass tower with the controller. There, she was looking through his binoculars to see what she could of the village. As soon as the tents were in place and the solar powered link panels were up, Rylee would check on the latest satellite imagery.
From this vantage point, what she saw were buildings that crumbled from the violent shaking.
They looked like the ruins that remained after the dust of battle settled.
Rylee’s nervous system remembered the horrors.
The controller said those who made it out of their homes slept just over the hill, safe from aftershocks, but now that Quebec was set up, they’d move the camp closer in.
“Have you had any aftershocks?” Rylee asked. The language they shared was Arabic.
“One big. One small.”
“We don’t have a large number of refugee tents with us until Tuesday. I believe it’s fifty. But those are fifty families that won’t be out in the open. They’re pretty stable despite aftershocks.”
Looking east, Rylee saw the dust churn up, and her body clenched. In her memory, she was back on the battlefield, tending her wounded Marines when over the hill came another round of insurgents, and devastation followed.
With shaking hands, Rylee handed the field glasses to the controller. “Any idea who that is or where they’re coming from?”
After looking for a long moment, the controller said. “That’s east. The only people who are east of us are the Syrians. Two pickup trucks. Six men.”
“Weapons?”
“There are always weapons. Come, we will go welcome them.”
Rylee was hyper-aware that she was walking around with a backpack filled with $50,000 in cash. It was a vulnerability, and yet she had nowhere to stow it.
Reshaping her countenance to meet the norms for women in this part of the world, Rylee adopted a stance of dignified modesty as she stood at a respectful distance from the controller, yet close enough to be under his male protection.
Rylee had learned a thing or two about survival as a woman in the Middle East.
“Assalamu alaikum,”peace be upon you, the driver said as he exited the first pickup, rifle in hand.
The others clustered by the trucks, watchful.
“Wa-Alaikum As-Salam," and upon you, the controller responded.
