Haven Days
(May-June 2020)
6-Summer Stress
"This is the first summer I remember," said Mabel on one warm May morning, "that doesn't perk me up."
"Teek will be home soon," her brother pointed out. The twins were sitting on the back porch of the curiously quiet Shack. The two pigs were dozing on the grass, enjoying the warmth of the sun, and the two dogs were dozing on the pigs, enjoying the heat of the sun and the porkers.
"Yeah, there's that!" Mabel said. "But Grunkle Ford says when he gets here, he'll have to stay in quarantine for two whole weeks. Teek's gonna call as soon as he lines up a flight."
She expected that to be right away, but as it happened, a couple of days went past with no news on that front. Oh, Teek called, but he seemed to be stranded.
Actually, Teek had planned to come home earlier than planned. The outbreak had hit Atlanta, and the curve of infections was rising sharply. Like many schools and colleges in the area, Georgia College of Arts and Film (GCAF, pronounced gee-kaff , by all the students and faculty) had made the tough decision to go virtual. Teek had at least finished two big projects, his student film and his four-week apprenticeship with a movie that was shooting near Atlanta. It was to have been an eight-week apprenticeship, but with infections spreading, the production company had called a halt and closed down.
Now Teek suspected that the movie, The Scarlet Sorceress, might be completely canceled. However, the director had liked him—as an apprentice, Teek had been one of the production assistants—as did the cinematographer, and both had given him their contact information and the advice, "Get in touch after things get back to normal."
But who knew how long that would take?
Anyway, the up and down and in and out of it amounted to the term's ending almost a full month earlier than planned. Then Teek faced the problem of traveling from Atlanta to Oregon. Airlines were canceling flights all over. It might be possible to get a flight to Idaho, but then someone would have to drive out from Oregon to ferry him home.
At that, for four days running he learned that there were no seats available on any of the flights that would get him close enough to be worth it. Not only were the airlines scheduling only about sixty per cent of the normal flight numbers, but the flights themselves were limited to only fifty per cent capacity, so passengers could be spread out.
On the fourth day a depressed Teek called Mabel. "Not today," he said.
"Aw! That utterly sucks!"
"I agree," Teek said. "But—well." He explained the tangle and complications of traveling.
"I'll see if Grunkle Ford can help," Mabel offered. "He might have a flight you could make."
"I don't want to bother him," Teek said.
"Good thing I don't mind bothering him at all, then! Come on, Teek, don't you want to get home?"
"I really do," Teek said.
"'Cause you . . . ." prompted Mabel.
"Because I love you," Teek said.
"You don't seem happy about it," Mabel complained.
There was a long silence, and then in a shaky voice, Teek said, "Dr. Arkwright died yesterday."
"Oh," Mabel said. "COVERT?"
"Yeah," Teek said. "She was my screenwriting instructor. One of my favorites. And she wasn't old. I mean, fifty isn't really . . . really old."
"Teek, I'm so sorry," Mabel said.
He sounded miserable: "I, uh. I can't even—can't even go to the funeral. Pay, uh, my . . .." He trailed off.
"Teek, what are you doing? I mean, while you try to get a flight?"
"Uh. Just hanging in the dorm. There are only about six of us, and they tell us not to, you know, congregate. Les has already gone home. There's one other guy way down at the end of the hall. They, uh, we can get our meals still. We walk over to the dining hall, and they, uh, give us paper bags. We can only go one at a time and we wear masks. So, you know."
"Hang in there," Mabel said. "Don't take any chances. I'll call you back later today. Teek, I love you."
For a long time Teek didn't say anything, but Mabel could hear him sort of gulping and breathing hard. "Love you so much," he whispered.
"Sit tight. I'll call you back soon." She hung up and hurried toward the gift shop door, passing through the dining room, where Wendy sat at the table, working on her laptop.
The redhead glanced up, but her smile faded. "Mabel, what's the matter?"
Mabel wiped the tears from her face with her sweater sleeve "Oh, I—just talked to Teek—I never heard him cry before. Wendy his favorite teacher died, and he—he—he can't—" She swallowed hard.
The next thing she knew, Wendy was hugging her tight. "He still can't find a way to get home?" she asked.
Mabel nodded. "Yeah. I'm gonna see if Grunkle Ford can do anything."
"Let me shut down this file," Wendy said. She saved the file and then shut down the computer. "I'll go with you."
"Thanks. Uh—school work?"
"Nah, done with all that. Dip asked me to proofread an article he's doing for an online site about the Granite Rapids books and show."
The two of them walked down the hill to Ford's and Lorena's home. Lorena answered the door and welcomed them in. "What's the matter?" she asked.
Mabel explained Teek's problem. "I want to ask Grunkle Ford if he can help. I know that's selfish, but—Teek knows people who caught this thing and died from it, and I'm so worried, and—"
"He's downstairs in his office," Lorena said. "You go right down."
"Thanks, Graunty Lorena," Mabel said, the tears starting again.
Ford, who was sporting a short beard—or maybe just extra-heavy five-o'clock whiskers—was on the phone. He looked up and saw them, gave them a weary smile and held up a finger to ask for a little time. After a moment, he said, "Very well. I wish we could do more. I wish the government would even listen to us! Thank you for the report. Hold the line as best you can."
He said goodbye and beckoned them in. "Hello, ladies. May I help you?"
"I hope so," Mabel said. "You're rocking that beard, Grunkle Ford!"
Ford absent-mindedly rubbed his chin. "Just scruff," he said. "I've been too busy to shave for three or four days." He yawned. "And I'm also short of sleep."
Mabel looked apologetic. "I'm so sorry. Teek's college is closed, but he can't find a way home."
"From . . . Atlanta, correct?"
Mabel nodded. "I don't know if you, uh—if you can even—I'm sorry, I'm just—don't uh, worry about . . .."
"Let me put in a call to the Southeastern office. We have a three-times-a-week transport flight, and one's due out in—" he checked his watch—"two and a half hours. I'll see if they have space."
"Oh," Mabel said. She tried to speak and then instead, she hugged him.
Ford, not much of a hugger, got hugging practice in, patting his great-niece's shoulder. "I'd better call right now," he said softly.
"She means 'Thank you,' Dr. P." Wendy said.
"She's welcome." Ford punched in a number and then said, "Excuse me." He closed the office door for a moment. Within seconds he opened it again. "Here, Mabel, tell him where Mr. O'Grady is and then call him and see if he can be ready to leave at, ah, let's see, three hours difference, at four P.M. Eastern time."
"Uh, hello?" Mabel said. "This is T—I mean Mr. O'Grady's fiancée. He's in a dorm on the campus of Georgia College of Arts and Film, I'll give you the exact room number—"
"Slow down," said a drawling man's voice. "That's fine, but start with his telephone number, please. Now, that college is down near Union City, so I'll line up ground transport, but we got to coordinate."
"Sorry, sorry," Mabel said. She gave him Teek's telephone and room numbers. "Give me about five minutes and I'll call him and give him a heads-up," she said.
"Got a van lined up. All right, I'll put in a call to him in exactly five minutes to tell him all the precautions. You go right ahead and call him."
"Oh, his name's Teek," Mabel said. "Nickname. Anyway, thank you, thank you, thank you!"
"You're welcome, little lady. Pass the phone back to my boss and you make your call to your guy, all right?"
Ford took his phone back into his office, and Mabel whipped out her phone and speed-dialed Teek.
He answered, sounding glum. "Hi, Mabel, no luck so far—"
"Listen!" Mabel said. "Grunkle Ford found a flight for you. Somebody's gonna call you in five minutes. They'll pick you up in a van, drive you to, uh, wherever, and you get on the plane, and you come home, and I love you so much and I'm gonna go so the guy can call you and listen to him and do all he says, and I can't wait! Bye!"
"Uh—" said Teek.
Mabel turned her phone off. "There."
Ford opened the door again. "Sorry about being so secretive," he said. "The Agency, you know. Passwords and so forth. Security. The flight will come in to Portland early tonight, and Agent Hazard will arrange to pick Mr. O'Grady up and drive him to the quarantine house. On his end, Mr. O'Grady will need to sign our non-disclosure documents and agree to abide by safety measures—now, I'm sorry, but I have a virtual meeting to attend in five minutes."
"What can I do to repay you?" Mabel asked.
"You don't even have to worry about that," Ford said with a smile. Then he blinked. "Oh. If you would, there is something you could do. Ask Lorena to prepare a couple of sandwiches for me, she'll know what kind, and bring down a tray with the food and maybe a cup of coffee? I don't think I had breakfast this morning."
Tears were still running from Mabel's eyes, but she nodded. And laughed.
"Dude," Soos said, "I don't know what to do."
"Grunkle Ford told me this morning that a courier from the Mexico City branch will take the vaccine to the hospital," Dipper said. "I'm sure Abuelita will be all right."
"She's old," Soos moaned.
They had the news that morning, straight from Soos's cousin: Abuelita had wakened early with a terrible headache and a cough, and she was in an isolation ward in the hospital. No one from the family could see her, and so far, she wasn't even allowed to speak to them on the phone.
Dipper put his hand on the big guy's shoulder. Soos had come into the gift shop, so Harmony and Little Soos wouldn't see how upset he was. Melody had them out in the yard. "The Agency has doctors on call," Dipper said. "At least one in every major office. The one who's in the main Mexican office is going to report to the hospital. He'll get access to Abuelita and give her the shot. She'll be OK, Soos."
"I hope so," Soos muttered. "Thanks, dude. She likes you a whole lot, you know. And, dawg, so do I and Melody and the kids. I hope—if it works and she gets well—maybe she can come back. Valentina told me that Abuelita probably got the bug, like, at Mass. That's just wrong, dawg. Just so wrong."
Someone knocked on the door jamb, and they both looked around. Grunkle Stan stood there, looking almost as exhausted as his brother did these days. "Soos," he said, "Sheila told me the bad news. I'm sorry, Soos, but Brainiac's sendin' in a specialist—"
"We know, "Dipper said.
"Mr. Pines, man, I mean Stan, I'm so grateful. Uh, could I ask you two one more favor? Or is that, like, too much?"
"Anything," Dipper said.
"Of course!" Stan said at the same time.
Soos all but whispered, "Say a prayer or two for her. Please."
"Well, if the Man Upstairs ain't put me on the ignore list," Stan said with a shrug, "I'll bend his ear, sure."
"I'll call Father Perez for you," Dipper said. "And Dr. Glaspell, too."
"Thanks, man," Soos said. He rubbed his eyes. "When Dad passed, you know, he was way off in Canada, and I knew kinda he was sick, but you know—the first I knew that he was so bad sick was when the hospital guy called and told me he'd just, you know. So that hit me all at once, but this, I think it's worse. Uh."
Stan put his arm over Soos's shoulders. "It'll be all right," he said. "Rosa wouldn't want you to be so worried. She's in good hands."
Soos nodded and swallowed hard.
And then they faced the problem of . . . just waiting.
That same evening a modified C500 transport touched down at the Portland airport. It could be configured as a strictly passenger plane, but it currently had space for a dozen passengers plus a cargo hold.
For the whole flight Teek had the passenger compartment all to himself. Well, to himself and his two big suitcases and one carry-on and one backpack. He'd been packed. When a driver had phoned him and said to come down and look for the green van, the big suitcases stood in the dorm lobby.
Teek had been told what to do. He lugged the bags out, the door of the van opened, and he stowed everything in, taking two trips. Then he stepped in and sat, as instructed, in one of the seats and buckled himself in.
The man's voice—he sounded like a Georgian—came from the driver's seat via an intercom. "Now just sit back. I'm gonna ask you to close your eyes in fifteen seconds an' hold them tight shut until I say open again. We're gonna shoot UV light in to zap any viruses. Now close your eyes in five, four, three, two, one, now."
It didn't take long for the driver to say, "You can open your eyes now. Sorry for all this isolation, but the organization requires it. Just settle in and I'll hand you over to somebody at the airport in about forty minutes. Here we go."
Teek found the drive disconcerting. He didn't have claustrophobia, but with no window, the van had a strong closed-in feel.
Still, the ride was a short one. The big airport was eerie—every other time Teek had seen it, crowds crammed it. This time he was almost on his own. A man in a black suit met him, put all his luggage onto a trolley, and they passed by backstage corridors out onto the tarmac, where a jet of only moderate size waited. It had been painted in blue and white, and it bore a stylized red globe and on the side the words "TRANS-CHARTER AIR INC." The hitch was that anyone trying to charter it would find no way to contact the company, which did not in fact exist. It was an Agency plane.
And again the routine of being isolated in the passenger cabin, the "shut your eyes" requirement, and then the long—six hours by his standard, though they flew toward the westering sun and landed in Portland around seven-thirty local time.
Teek knew Agent Hazard. She was a little more relaxed, and she drove him from Portland to Gravity Falls faster than he would have expected. "How fast are we going?" he asked when they made the turn south.
"Speed is subjective," she said with a smile.
He gawked at the changes as they entered the Valley. She had prepared him for what followed: He would be housed in one of the quarantine houses for ten days. His meals would be delivered—no contact between him and the delivery personnel. The cabin had satellite TV, wi-fi, a game console, and so on and so on. He would be allowed outside, but was to have no physical contact with any other resident of the quarantine units.
He found the place, unlocked the door, and walked in. The room lights came on automatically. Not bad—a cut above the dorm. Small living room, kitchenette, and a door that led to—
"Welcome home!"
"Mabel!"
"Mm-wah!"
"You can't be here!"
Mabel kissed him again. "I have to be here! For seven whole days. Relax, your mom and dad are fine with it, my mom and dad are fine with it, Dipper's fine with it, Wendy and Grunkle Stan and everybody are fine with it! Everybody except Waddles, Widdles, Tripper, and DC. But Brobro will keep them company."
Teek hugged her as tightly as he could. "I'm so glad to—"
"Come on," she said. "I'll show you the bedroom."
Three days before Teek and Mabel were cleared to return, Soos got a call from his cousin in Mexico. He found Wendy and Dipper and hugged them—the way he had hugged that time when they were falling into Mabel's bubble. "Dudes! Abuelita's out of the hospital!"
That evening, early June, for the first time in ages, Dipper and Wendy went out into the Valley for an overnight camping trip.
And they went to the natural hot spring they had enjoyed before and they climbed in and relaxed. "Dude," Wendy said, as they lay back, side to side, skin to skin. "This is so, so—" she broke off and switched to telepathy. — I was gonna say so nice, Dip, but that's not right, is it? I mean it IS nice, being here naked with you in our old stomping grounds and all, but it's more than that. This is almost—I can't find the word, dude.
I know what you mean, Dipper thought to her. Yeah. The thing is, I think, that the word we need here is "normal."
—Almost. But will it all ever be normal again, Dipper?
Let's hope so, Wen. Let's hope so.