Deportations and a Pandemic

Imagine that everything you ever believed in all came to a halt – in just one day.

A full twenty-four hours, and that was what the outcome of the deportation had caused. Geraldo didn’t see it coming, and neither did any of the other four men who had been carted away by angry ICE agents who didn’t seem to care whether they scraped them up all along their arms as they drug them toward their detention van. Totaling five, Geraldo still hadn’t gotten any clear answers as to why they’d been detained.

To make matters worse, the majority of the men they’d taken weren’t even ‘undocumented,’ but rather visiting on Scientific visa.

Who would have ever thought that those who came to help serve the medical community would be treated so rough and carelessly?

“You realize – we have an epidemic. We are here to help the university collect evidence, and report it back to the CDC.” Geraldo plead, digging his heels into the asphalt as the ICE official held him tightly.

“I realize, you need to be detained and I am here to do my job. Now, get in the van!” the official bellowed – forcing Geraldo forward, and causing him to stumble slightly as he attempted to remain upright.

“Sir, please – I am here on a Visa and legal so. I’ve not done anything wrong. I’m not a criminal. We are on another impending national disaster!” Geraldo contested again, his feet seemingly buckling beneath the force of the official as another came to his side and they proceeded carrying him away.

“You were ordered to get in the van – if you won’t obey orders then we will have to put you in ourselves.” The second official barked.

“Please, there could be another pandemic coming – YOU already quit working with the WHO.” Geraldo retorted.

“Hush, we don’t need to hear any more of your hollering.” The first official stated – by now at the edge of the van and lifting Geraldo up inside, “now sit down and stay quiet – all of you.” The gruffness of the agent’s office seemed to grate, and Geraldo shook his head – barely missing hitting his forehead against the roof of the van as he stepped inside.

Boom!

A heavy thud echoed and the van door slammed shut. Each detainee sat with their hands behind their backs in a haphazard way. If anything were to happen – it was clear no one was restrained enough to prevent them from injury.

“O que fizemos? Há um surto de hanta nos roedores daqui. Por que fomos presos?” Victor, the only other Brazilian of the assembled team asked. Geraldo looked at him, biting into his lip as he drew in a breath and hesitating for a moment before he spoke,

“I don’t know what we have done. The outbreak we were studying we will have to contact the organizers of the project. We will tell them. There must be a mistake.” Geraldo said. The other three men remained silent. As if an eerie unspoken request had been made for everyone to process what had occurred.

“You say this like you are so sure.” Victor remarked. No sooner had he murmured his sentence that a slamming loud noise and the shrieking squeal of brakes rung out through the van.

“Ah carajo! Que chingo fue esto?” One of the men, Tomas screamed. A sudden rolling then commenced, and the five men found themselves flying through the air – limbs connecting with various angles of their bodies as the vehicle continued its rolling motion. The noises of calamity were a thunderous roar that flooded together and it made it nearly impossible to decipher what exactly was going on.

Tumbling aimlessly, Geraldo did his best to tuck his limbs into his body and cover his head despite the zip ties, and yet the rolling seemed to go on for countless minutes undeterred.

Until finally, it suddenly just stopped.

The sounds of groaning men filtered into Geraldo’s ears and he peeked his eyes open to gather his surroundings. In the corner, Victor sat huddled in a similar haphazard fashion to the one Geraldo found himself in.

“I think we have been in an accident.” Geraldo mumbled, peering around at the others, “is everyone okay? Is anyone hurt?”

“Besides the obvious, I think we are fine…but I don’t trust these gringos.” Victor murmured, “I wouldn’t put it past them to wreck us out intentionally and leave us out here to fuckin’ die!” he finished, his voice rising in volume with each word he’d spoken.

“We need to gather our wits, men. We can’t go imagining the worst. We are here legally. We have visas. We have done nothing wrong.” Geraldo explained.

“Except be born the wrong color for the gabachos.” Herson, a young man working as a laborer under Geraldo’s supervision, finally piped up.

“You don’t know that.”

“Say, does anyone have any bets on what would happen if these guys winded up catching hanta after this? Who thinks they’ll blame it on us?” Herson stated.

“Don’t go scapegoating on things you don’t know for sure, Herson. I’m sure there’s a misunderstanding.”

“Geraldo, we are fucking trapped in a wrecked van with god damn zip ties on our hands! Are you delusional? These fuckers aren’t going to save us.” Herson stated, a bit more aggressively.

“Save the machisimo for the real problem. We don’t need to be fighting amongst ourselves here.”

“What’s your plan? Bite through the zip ties like rodents and hopefully find some way to escape?” Herson asked.

“If there was an accident I am sure the drivers up front are also in it, and that other people saw it. The highway patrol and crash response team will probably be out here any moment.” Geraldo explained.

“You have too much faith in these people, man – these are racist fucks who are shipping brown American citizens off to CECOT while they bring in White South African refugees at the same time. You can’t be that stupid – tell me you don’t know what the fuck’s going on here.” Herson said with seething tone.

“You need to back off your overthinking, like I said, and come back down to surface. We can break the zip ties with our own weight. Here, let me show you.” Geraldo stated casually.

“These gabachos don’t give a damn, Geraldo. They’re probably long gone by now.” Victor stated.

“Ya know, the two of you tell me a lot about yourselves by repeatedly calling them gabachos and gringos. Calmate, ya - calmo e racional. You hear me, calm and rational. That’s what we need to be right now. Don’t get caught up in your head and start acting like the very people you don’t want to be.” Geraldo advised, his eyes darting back and forth between the two men and then back to the only one who had yet to speak, Gilberto.

“Gil? Are you okay over there?” Geraldo asked, turning his attention away from Herson and Victor as his eyebrows furrowed.

“Just listening to the bickering, and trying to decide who is going to make the first moves to get us out of this vehicular coffin.” He remarked, pushing himself upward from the awkward position he’d found himself in.

“Gil’s right, and we need to focus. Come on – this is how.” Geraldo stated, suddenly rolling back and lifting his leg to bring his foot up toward his hands.

“What the hell?” Victor said, his eyes widening in astonishment as he watched Geraldo slip his foot up onto the zip tie and suddenly kick with full force.

Snap!

The plastic binding immediately broke in the middle and snapped away leaving Geraldo’s hands free to move normally.

“See, just like that – now, you do it.” He stated. Herson frowned, but then rolling back he too lifted his foot and kicked at the binding. A satisfying snap once again echoed through the vehicle and Victor murmured,

“Well, I’ll be damned. Where did you learn that life hack?”

“Trick of the trade,” Geraldo stated with a chuckle.

“What trade? Cuándo te escapaste de la cárcel y nunca nos lo contaste?” Victor asked, and Geraldo snorted.

“I haven’t. I just watch survival videos on self-defense on escaping being abducted.”

“Es lo que estan haciendo.” Herson blurted, “They’re going to ship us off somewhere and nobody is ever going to see or hear from us again.”

“Stop being a fearmonger. Come let me help you,” Geraldo said, taking the steps toward Herson slowed movements.

“Why are you tip-toeing?” Herson asked, his voice lined with annoyance.

“Because I don’t know what it looks like outside of here. Do you?” Geraldo sternly replied.

“What do you mean?” Victor asked.

“I mean, we might find more than we bargained for,” Geraldo leaned into the van wall slowly reaching toward Herson’s leg, “so you going to let me help?”

Herson proceeded to bend his knee, his movement slow and steadied and gave a light nod – with permission granted, Geraldo placed his leg down against the zip tie and ordered him to pull.

Clank.

The doors of the van flew open, and each of the four men peered out curiously. It was dark – there was no light that could be seen but some feet away the road was barely visible beneath the shimmering moonlight.

“How long do you think we’ve been here?” Victor asked, leaning his head out with a grimace. Geraldo observed how frightful his expression appeared, but refrained from mentioning it as he drew in a breath.

“Can’t be sure, but we should probably stay here until more light.” Geraldo murmured, his eyebrows furrowing as he pondered their situation.

“I think we should flag someone down. Can’t we check the cab?” Victor asked, biting into his lip as he narrowed his eyes in attempt to see better.

“I bet there is a radio in the cab.” Herson murmured, “I’m going to see.”

“You can’t see shit, Herson.” Geraldo stated.

“I’ll climb over the van; will that settle your doubts?” Herson asked.

“I’m pretty sure we rolled solid here – other than the haphazard way we landed.” Victor stated, with a matter of fact nod to follow.

“Fine, crawl over but remember we’re coming off studying about this hanta outbreak and you haven’t done hazmat cleanup. Don’t cut yourself.”

“The way things are looking, if I don’t get up there the virus is the last thing I’m going to die from.” Herson huffed, stretching his arms above his head and easing himself up onto the roof.

Creak.

“Be careful, se puede caller.” Tomas quietly murmured.

As quiet as he was, to see him pipe up gave Geraldo a bit of relief and the four men together though astonished by their fate seemed to recognize the only way out was to move forward.

“Why haven’t they come to check…” Victor trailed his words, and while each of the 3 men watched Herson move – his agility apparent with the way he quickly pulled himself atop the van with a graceful motion that seemed nearly gazelle-like.

“They’re probably dead.” Tomas stated, “I feel like my bones are bruised from the rolling.”

“Sh, I want to hear what he does.” Geraldo said, poking his head up slightly as he watched Herson slither his body across the roof of the van, “Have you made it to the front yet, Herson?”

“Ya casi llego.” The sound of his voice floated over and Geraldo once again sighed.

“Bueno – try to open the front doors and see if there’s anyone inside.” Geraldo directed.

“Parece que no hay nadie.” Herson remarked.

The sound of a creaking door once again filled Geraldo’s ears and he pushed upward more to see if he could get any visual on Herson.

“I’m in, but de veras – no hay nadie.” Herson remarked, “Do you think…”

“Just go in and see about the radio.” Geraldo stated.

“Si, estuviera aqui. Like I just told you…there’s no one. There’s no radio either. It looks like it’s been ripped out.” Herson hollered.

“What…” Victor said, his mouth falling agape as he looked back at Geraldo.

“We aren’t going to start the conspiracy theorizing…” Geraldo stated, waving his hand, “Herson, hurry up and come back this way then.”

“We’re going to fucking die here. They let us be wrecked out so we can fucking die.” Victor shrieked. He lifted his hand to rub at his temple and closed his eyes for a moment.

“Panicking at this point is going to make you more vulnerable. We need to regroup.” Geraldo stated.

“You think it’s going to be that easy? We were drove out to the woods and left to rot!” Victor seethed, rubbing more intensely at his temples as he groaned aloud.

“We’re not going to be here forever. We’re going to hike the fuck out.” Geraldo finally stated. His patience, by now, had met with a wall of belligerence and to call himself perfect would have been to err on the side of egotism. Something that Geraldo promised himself he would never, ever do. He was responsible for this team, and somehow – come hell or high water, he would deliver them to their families in one piece.

“Que te calmas,” Herson dropped down from the roof peering directly into Victor’s face as he slid his body back down into the van.

“You’re so sure of yourself. You said there’s nobody up there, but we had people put us in this goddamn van.” Victor muttered.

“And more than likely they’ve bailed – cause they’re not there and there’s no sign of them. Like I said, someone pulled out the radio wires. It’s a sabotage up there.” Herson explained.

“You keep telling me to calm down but failing to explain to me how we’re going to get out of this?” Victor muttered. Tomas coughed suddenly, leaning into the van and clearing his throat.

“We’re going to walk out. On the two legs tu madre te dio al nacer o vas a morir aqui?” He asked.

“No, I’m not going to die here. Fuck.” Victor murmured, his hands falling from his temples as he shook his head, “We’re scientists. We have visas. How could they fucking do this to us?” he bellowed.

“Pinche fascistas pedazos de mierda.” Tomas remarked coolly.

“Yeah, it sure seems that way. I can’t understand how it is possible for them to get away with this.” Victor murmured.

“It’s pretty easy, amigo. They seem to be doing it to us all. Don’t you watch the news?” Herson asked.

“No, I work on my research and write my reports and then I call back home to my wife and child. I didn’t come here to be treated like a criminal. I came here to help these ungrateful people a quien te vale madre.” Victor stated.

“You never told me you had a wife or child.” Tomas murmured.

“You don’t talk enough to tell, and besides…I came for work. I came to help with the medical science studies we need to create a cure for this outbreak.” Victor muttered.

“So, if you know that to be…you got something to get out of here for.” Tomas murmured.

“We all do – the universe put us here because we got the wits to get through it. Walk.”

“Si, ya nos vamos. Epa, casi moriremos pero no.”

***

“There’s the road.” Herson hollered.

“There’s lights coming.” Victor said. He stumbled forward a bit, upping his pace to a light job and breaking out onto the asphalt he began waving his arms, “Hey!”

The car swerved to a stop, just as the rest of the guys filed in onto the shoulder alongside Victor. The driver, rolled down the window leaning her head out the door with astonished eyes and a perplexed expression.

“What is going on?” the driver called to them.

“We were in a car accident. Can you take us back to town? We need a hospital.” Victor explained.

“We are at least thirty-five minutes from town.” The driver murmured, “but there is no cell service in this pocket either so I can’t call an ambulance. Please, get in – I will take you to the closest hospital.”

The men all jogged toward the car, but Victor seemed suddenly hesitant; choosing to watch each of his team file into the vehicle before he finally slid into the backseat.

“Where is your car?” the driver asked, when Victor finally slammed the door. A wave of relief washed over him, and he exhaled softly upon realizing that deportations and a pandemic were happening, but in spite of all the chaos the simplest of epiphanies hit him with a wake of sudden truth…

They had all survived – and whatever came next, they could survive it too.