Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 106092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“We’ll stay together,” I agree with a nod. “Thank you.”
Mary shows us to one of the curtained places. “There’re showers available at the local motel, but you’ll need to get with Paula, the one sweeping when we came in, and she’ll put you on the schedule, as well as go over the rules.”
“Rules?” Hope asks with a grimace.
“Nothing too wild,” Mary says with a chuckle. “Simple stuff like clean up after yourself, don’t go crazy using the community shampoo and whatnot, and oh, don’t take more than your allotted time.”
“What happens if you go over?” Dan inquires, body tense. “What’s the punishment?”
Mary studies each of us for a beat and then her smile falters. “You all have been through a lot. I can see that. You won’t be punished. You’ll just be remembered. If you take a long time, Paula will make sure you get a later slot next time. And, if you are a repeat offender, she’ll put you last. Last one out for the night is in charge of scrubbing down the shower and refilling the community products.”
I relax knowing it’s nothing terrible. “How do we go about getting supplies?” I ask, yawning. “We’re out of everything.”
Mary’s smile is back in full force. “Goodland residents have volunteered their time to make packs for every visitor who stays here. They’ve been separated by size. I’ll have some backpacks brought to you all. Just fill out the form on your cot and turn it in to Paula or myself.” She gives my arm a squeeze. “Why don’t you all get settled and we’ll see about getting you all sorted out.”
Aaron and Tyler missed dinner, though Mary assures me her sister is making sure they’re fed at the hospital. The rest of us scarfed down the canned stew and freshly baked bread as though we hadn’t eaten in years. Several smaller kids giggled at our zeal for the mushy dinner. After, we all took our turns getting showers. Now that I’m clean and sitting on my cot, exhaustion takes over.
Hope sees me nodding off and smirks. “Go to sleep, old man.”
“Old man?” I ask, lifting a brow.
She shrugs. “Reminds me of my dad. He could nap sitting up. Used to drive my mom crazy.” Her eyes sheen with tears and she forces a smile. “I miss them.”
“Were they…”
“They had a place over in Oakland. There’s no way they’d have survived the tsunami and floodwaters.”
The pain etched on her pretty face guts me. This entire time I’ve traveled with her and the others I never thought to ask if she had family she could go to or ones she may have lost. She never spoke about it until now and I certainly never asked.
Some leader you are, man.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter.
Thankfully, Mary saves us from any more awkward conversation. She and a few volunteers distribute our backpacks. We made sure to fill out the forms for Tyler and his brothers as well.
“This here is for Pretzel,” Mary says, handing Hailey a small kids’ backpack. “Can’t forget about that little cutie.”
Hailey’s face lights up as she accepts the bag. One of the volunteers, a girl around her age, grins at her and waves as though she’s happy to have a potential new friend.
Once Mary and her helpers are gone, we all set to going through our bags. In my bag, I discover a pair of jeans, two T-shirts, two pairs of underwear, three pairs of socks, a sweatshirt, a pair of athletic shoes, and a steel water bottle at the bottom. I also find an unopened bar of soap, a small tube of toothpaste, some floss picks, a comb, a stick of deodorant, and a two-pack of toothbrushes. For reading material, they’ve included a Bible and a pamphlet about Revelations—which feels fitting since we’re basically living the end times. In a little front pocket, I find a small working flashlight, a bottle of ibuprofen, a handful of Band-Aids, some alcohol wipes, and hand sanitizer. The side pockets include three granola bars, two packets of trail mix, several sticks of beef jerky, a plastic bottle of water, a pack of gum, and a package of Skittles.
I’m blown over by their thoughtfulness and generosity.
Hope laughs and I look up in time to see her waggling a box of tampons at Hailey, who giggles in return. Pretzel is happily shaking his new toy around. The contents of the dog’s bag are a gallon-sized Ziplock bag of dog food, a bottle of water, two small, collapsible bowls, the toy he’s terrorizing, and a bag of treats.
I’m tempted to go through Tyler’s bag on the cot next to mine to see if he has the same things as me but manage to refrain from doing so.
Grabbing my bag up, I make my way to the church bathroom to change into clean clothes. Once I’ve gotten into something that doesn’t smell so awful, I apply the new deodorant and brush my teeth before heading back to our area.