POCKET CHANGE 2: A GAME OF CARDS
by Sharon R.
Chapter Three
"The road of life can only reveal itself as it is traveled; each turn in the road reveals a surprise. Man's future is hidden." -Source Unknown
With none of the three claiming the baggage on the ground before them, they looked around and saw just one more face. Carter dropped his bags as the smiling soldier stirred memories of his last visit there and thrust the vague inkling into overdrive. The smell, the ambiance of where he was, the smiling face, was suddenly all too familiar. Walking up to the soldier, Carter tilted his head as he strained to grasp the familiarity in front of him.
"I know you, don't I?" Carter reached out and shook the smiling man's hand.
"Yes. You do not remember?"
Carter had to catch up to the man's African accent, furrowed his brow and then quickly nodded. "Yes… you were with us in Bunia. Stayed with us until we got to Kampala."
"Othiamba, right?" Luka also remembered as he too shook the man's hand.
"Yes sir." Othiamba was almost overly enthusiastic with his handshakes as he returned again to shake Carter's hand, then again to Luka and finally to Sean. "Yes sir. I have been assigned to you. I will help wherever I am needed."
Carter was stumped by Othiamba's sudden presence. "Assigned? Like, as in watching us?"
"No, John," Sean quietly interjected, "it's a courtesy. Technically you are guests of the government. Othiamba is probably here on an honor assignment. It's SOP."
"SOP?" Luka wrinkled his nose and squinted as the wind blew in a sheet of dust.
"Standard operating procedure," Carter replied and grinned. "Sean's getting all technical on us. Well," Carter looked over at Sean, "this is a nice surprise. It's good to find old friends." Carter was trying hard to start off on the right foot.
"Yes, very nice….," Sean stalled, "… but not my surprise."
"You look well, Dr. Carter. And you too, Dr. Luka." Othiamba marveled at the complete change in appearance the doctors had managed. From beaten up, malnourished seriously ill captives, to well dressed healthy westerners. This made Carter and Luka check each other for just a moment remembering what horrid shape they were in last time Othiamba saw them.
"Yep," Luka grinned as he hauled his luggage away from the makeshift landing zone, "finally got Dr. Carter to wear some decent looking clothes."
As they got closer to the large former hanger, the people who had been working to get the camp up and running started appearing, hauling supplies, setting up care stations with rations, clothing and temporary shelter material. A few auxiliary buildings on the other side of the hanger, initially out of view of the men, were either newly built or under construction. The workers greeted Sean with 'hello' and 'good afternoon', obviously having become familiar with him over the last month.
"Who are all these people?" Luka asked as they entered the hanger.
"Well, some are volunteers from Pakwach - the village a few miles up the road. Some are from a church mission that helps out all over the African continent." He pointed to a group of young adults sitting on the floor of a newly framed building playing cards. "A group of university students there." They all couldn't help looking at the African women who were cooking over an open fire in the distance, children carrying water in old jugs. "Others are refugees."
Sean stopped just inside the door to let the doctors take in the changes the hanger had experienced since their last stopover. "And of course we have people from the Alliance, but most will be getting here when the medical clinic is up and running. That's where you come in, Luka. As John will be overseeing the whole of the camp as it relates to his Foundation's funding, you and I will be in charge of putting the clinic together. Then as we get settled John will help staff it as well… no use wasting a good, free doctor."
The hanger had been split up into three areas. Just inside the large doors an intake area was in place to process the new refugees. Beyond that, temporary walls had been erected to separate what would be clinic areas from a few staff sleeping quarters. For now, it was a big empty shell.
"Well," Sean sighed as he dropped his bags on a cot off to the side, "trucks will be barreling in here any time with supplies. We've got a lot of work to do." Sean motioned to the back where the office was. The same office they had settled their sore bones into briefly on their previous trip. "The office back there has been set up for us. There's not much in it. No phones yet and cell phone coverage is very sporadic. But it will serve the three of us well enough as a headquarters."
The sun was streaming in through the large open-air windows through to the back of the hanger making it hard to see into the office. But something caught Carter's eye.
"Who's that in there?"
Sean and Luka attempted to shade their eyes with their hands but could only see the shadow of a person sitting in the lone chair, feet propped up on the desk.
"Don't know," Sean puzzled, "nobody should be in there that I know of."
The three men hiked back to the office, their feet echoing in the empty chamber of cement and steel. Finally close enough to make out the figure, his back was to them, his hands behind his head as he reclined back taking in the view across the old tarmac through the broken window.
Without turning around, without even so much as flinching, his smooth, deep American voice carried directly through the doorway aimed for the doctors.
"Well, if it isn't King Tut and his sidekick Matija Gubec."
Luka and Carter stole looks at each other as their mouths opened then closed quickly, initially hesitant to speak to the man who they had so masterfully played previously.
"Gee… Bob… what a …," Luka halted, then glanced disappointedly at Sean, "… a surprise?"
Sean simply shrugged his shoulders obviously out of the loop, and shook his head.
"King Tut?" Carter mused.
The man put his feet down and swung around to face the men. "I see you brought your riches back to Africa. Just please tell me you left your curse in Chicago."
"Nice surprise, Sean," Carter sarcastically threw out.
"Don't look at me… I don't know this man."
"I guess introductions are in order." Bob stood and with a cocky, sarcastic manner, limply put his hand out to Sean. "Mr. Griffin, it's nice to meet you, I'm Bob."
In unison, Carter and Luka mocked him back. "Hi Bob."
Sean stepped up to Bob and returned the handshake firmly, in diplomatic mode. "Nice to meet you… I guess… Bob, ah, what is your last name?"
"Yeah… okay," Bob pulled back, disinterested in the Irishman, and walked through the three men and out the office door. "Look doctors, you're stuck with me for a while. I don't want to be here. You don't want me here." He lit a cigarette and took a long drag savoring the buzz. "But let's make the best of it… and all that." Turning his back on them, he walked away mumbling. "Shit. I'm in a bad dream. A Salvation Army summer camp for alter boy rejects."
Luka and Carter leaned back against the desk and watched as Bob exited the hanger.
"Hello," Sean yelled after him, "if you are a volunteer, I truly don't recall which organization you are with. Excuse me."
"No." Carter popped a stick of gum in his mouth non-challantly, offering another to Luka who slowly and seemingly lackadaisically unwrapped it and licked it first before giving it a chew. Neither one was all too concerned about the mystery man who cracked the verbal whip and snaked out of the hanger… Sean's hanger… as though he owned the airline. "His organization isn't on your list, Sean."
"Pardon me?"
The two doctors righted themselves and left to start their day of work setting up the camp. Luka gave Sean a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Did we ever tell you about Bob?"
"Bob - at least we think that's his name - was our tour guide out of Bunia." Carter added. "He arranged for our flights in and out of Uganda. Was supposed to stick with us all the way to Germany, 'til we ditched him in Kampala."
"I don't suppose he's none too happy with us right now," Luka smiled and laughed with Carter. "You can ask him anything you want, Sean, but he'll evade most of it. Probably CIA."
"Mata Gooby who?" Carter quizzed Luka.
"Matija Gubec. Leader of the historic Croatian peasant uprising of 1573."
"Oh," Carter feigned his awe, "you should be impressed."
"I am. I'm impressed he knows who Gubec is."
As the two doctors left the hanger they looked back to see Sean still in a state of deep confusion. Putting two and two together was suddenly an algebraic formula he couldn't do in his head. "Bob who?"
"Come on Sean," Luka waved him on, "we'll tell you all about it."
Carter draped his arm around Sean as they walked out to meet a parade of trucks entering the camp. "You see, it all has to do with a lot of initials. CIA, FBI, DOD, DOS, NFC."
Sean mentally defined those terms in his head but faltered on the last one. "NFC?"
"Yep, NFC." Carter stopped to put his sunglasses on that had been dangling around his neck, taking in the work that was ahead of him in the distance. "No Fucking Clue."
Quite blankly, Luka added, "That's SOP."
As the day wore on, Luka and Carter lost each other in the hectic barrage of off loading of supplies and stockpiling them in the appropriate places. Luka redesigned the hanger area to his own clinic specifications and set up what meager materials had arrived, but he soon found himself with nothing but a basic first aid station. No lab equipment, few meds and certainly no trauma or OR supplies. When he questioned Sean about the arrival of the remainder of the already procured supplies, the answer he got was a bit daunting.
"Everything you need is here in Uganda. It will get here."
"What are we waiting for?" Luka asked, puzzled.
"Darkness."
Sean was so matter-of-fact about his reply that it gave Luka a raised eyebrow.
"Don't worry. Our first shipment comes tonight on a military helicopter. You have to understand, Luka, that trade on the black market is sometimes more valuable than hard currency. The rebels here in northern Uganda are much more discreet than in the jungles of the Congo. They are all over the roads blending in with the general population and any hint of the movement of treasured medical supplies and we'd be out of everything we spent the last few months working so hard for. Be patient."
Carter set to work getting to know the volunteers and charter members of the refugee camp. They were hard workers and grateful refugees willing to do whatever work was necessary even with babies strapped to the moms' chests and backs. The heat was miserable as it bounced off the broken pavement of the abandoned airfield and back at the workers. With tenuous muscles already strained, Carter was pushing it but had become adept at knowing his limits. Behind him every step of the way was Othiamba hovering over him making sure that his needs and requests were addressed. At first grating, Carter eventually became too engrossed in his work to notice.
The hard work felt good to both doctors who had spent the last few months recuperating in Chicago then stuck behind desks putting together the Pakwach camp by phone and computer. It was invigorating to see the results of their hard work and desire to do something worthwhile, their new community of friends just as eager. With the exception of Bob who slinked around the camp, occasionally appearing to chat with the locals, nobody was below the work needed to be done, no matter what filth, stench or dubious sweat was generated because of it.
The exhaustion and heat of the night overtook them as they joined a few other volunteers on the floor of what would eventually be their "mess hall". Their forgotten hunger suddenly attacked with a vengeance and the two searched for a meal. Since the electrician had not yet arrived to install the last of the generators, the majority of the food was still sitting in a refrigeration warehouse on the other side of the country. If the bland prepackaged rations they were given by the Red Crescent, sans eating utensils, were any indication of the dining fare they were to expect in this building phase, the doctors knew that they would definitely have to make their minds and stomach go elsewhere to quell the hunger pains.
With his stomach still squawking, and the palatability of his dinner less inviting than a rabid dog, Carter looked over at Othiamba who obviously was immensely enjoying the contents of the tin. He noticed that Luka, too, was watching Othiamba and the other refugees among them digging in to their meal, appreciating every bite.
"Well, it beats chopped sardines and rice on a banana leaf," Carter whispered, privately acknowledging their meager rations they were occasionally allowed as Jules' captives in the Congo. Luka smiled back and gave him a nod of encouragement.
They were suddenly overtaken by the stealth entrance of a chopper overhead coming in fast and low, not turning on lights until just before touching down. From nowhere another chopper landed behind it spilling out several heavily armed soldiers.
"That's our cue," Sean yelled out to the workers as he ran towards the open field.
Within an hour all of the supplies were unloaded and, accompanied by heavily armed guards, stocked in the hanger, the more valuable of supplies making it to a large safe hidden in the office - a safe that did not lock.
With the clinic materials on the ground and the soldiers back in the air, Carter was suddenly uneasy. "Uh, Sean, now what do we do? I understand that the transport of the supplies was dangerous, but because they are here that doesn't make them any less of a target for the rebels."
"Well, actually it does," Sean explained. "Remember, there are Ugandan soldiers stationed here around the perimeter. And the LRA is trying to clean up their act, at least politically. They know that raiding a refugee camp and stealing medical supplies would net them zero publicity."
"But they still will kidnap children from these camps to staff their army, and women for use as sex slaves." Othiamba wasn't the silent sidekick after all. "Maybe not so much here, but they do further up north."
As they opened one package after another, Luka suddenly came up short in his mental inventory. "Still not many medicines?" he asked Sean.
"No. We are having a problem getting approval for some of the supplies you ordered. Controlled substances are not normally stocked outside of a secure hospital setting. That's a whole different animal. Not only is that black market material, but there is a rampant drug abuse problem in the cities. Be patient."
"Again with the 'be patient' bit," Luka humored back.
Stealing away one more break at the end of the long night, Luka laid down on the hard planks of the floor in the mess hall, wanting nothing more than for the unconscious state of sleep to erase the heat, sweat and associated bugs that were beginning to catch a ride on his filthy body. "Somebody just throw the mosquito netting over me right here. I don't even think I have the energy to make it to a bed."
Carter joined him, his back stiffening. "Ohhhhh… ," he rubbed his eyes and willed his body to get upright just one more time so he could make a pit stop at the latrine. "What have we gotten ourselves into?"
"Doubting yourself?" Luka mindlessly stared at the ceiling. "Because if you aren't, I am. This body suddenly feels a lot older than it is."
"Think if we don't move, don't make a sound, everyone will just leave us alone?"
"Frankly, I don't think I can move without making a sound." Luka attempted to sit up, barely getting his head off the floor. "Arrrrgh…. sranje!"
Carter's muted laugh only made him hold his strained gut in. "Ditto that."
"One more package doctors," Sean called enthusiastically into the building. "Come on, there's work to be done."
"No," Carter whined with exhausted humor, "we're off the clock. Shift's over."
"We don't want no stinkin' overtime, boss." Luka laughed with Carter as they remained on the floor, arms outstretched, every sore vertebrae in their spine withstanding the contact with the wooden boards for simple lack of energy.
"Hey," Sean kicked the exposed sole of Luka's shoe raising his Croatian ire, "you're not done until I say you're done."
Groans emitted from the mess hall in stereo as their blistered, bug bitten, heat ravaged bodies became vertical, but only enough to sit upright and give Sean a piece of their mind. Their anger was quickly doused when they saw that last package of the evening. Both doctors had to focus their eyes to get a better look at what was in front of them and decided that this endeavor wasn't going to be so bad after all!