Chapter Ten

A dozen refugees huddled against the rain, holding plastic sheets over their heads while their village was destroyed. Heaped around them lay what little they were able to salvage before the workers started swinging their sledgehammers.

"Que pasara?" wailed Carmen Bigot, an eleven-year-old girl who had taken over an abandoned shack after her parents died. All the members of the shanty village had taken her into their hearts and made sure she had enough to eat. "Where will we go, where can we live?"

"There, there, little one, todos estaran bien. All will be well," Susan said, hugging the girl close and rocking her back and forth. Inside, she was glad the rain hid the tears coursing down her own face.

"But what's going to happen to us now?"

"We'll be all right, Carmelita," volunteered Rogelio, who kneeled down in the mud next to the girl. "We'll find another place to live."

"Rich?" Susan inquired worriedly. "What about us?" He simply stood there, his jaw and fists clenched. "Say something. You're frightening me."

"It's all for the tourists," he said.

"What?"

"The tourists. That's why he's doing this," Rich said. "We're too close to the tourist area. Tourists don't like looking at ugly shantytowns. So Presidente ordered it torn down."

"Rich," she offered cautiously, "maybe we could move back into my old--"

"Our government is terrible," he interrupted. "I'm going to protest publicly!"

"Rich! DON'T!" she shouted after him as he dashed off into the rain.

"You could get in trouble!" Rogelio called.

"Stop him, Rogelio, please," Susan pleaded. "For me." The young man dashed after Rich.

Rich had already reached the workers, and accosted the one who seemed to be the foreman. It was impossible to hear over the rain what he was shouting at him, but back at the tree line Susan saw him reach up and try to grab the man's arm as he swung his hammer. She gasped as the construction laborer shoved him away, where he tripped on the rocky ground and fell. He leaped to his feet again, but then, Rogelio reached them and pulled Rich away. He half-led, half-dragged him back to the group, where Susan ran to meet them.

"Don't you ever do that again," she said, wrapping both arms tightly around Rich. "When Presidente hears about this, he could order you arrested or even shot. And I couldn't live without you."

"But our government is terrible--"

"I don't give a d**n about the government! I would die without you! Do you hear me? Promise me! Promise!"

Rich looked into her anguished eyes and reached up to brush away a strand of hair that had been plastered there by the rain and tears. "All right," he said. "I promise."

The three of them walked back to where the others still waited, huddled under the trees, as the last of the shacks collapsed with a crash. "Vamanos," he said. "For tonight we can sleep in the barn at my farm. We can come back and see what we can salvage in the morning."

Rain drummed on the tin roof of the barn as the refugees did their best to make themselves comfortable for the coming night. Bags of papaya seeds were pressed into service as pillows, while empty sacks served for blankets. The only light came from a single oil lantern Rogelio had the presence of mind to grab before his shack came down.

Susan put on a brave smile as Rich came over and sat on the plank floor next to her. "We'll get through this," she said, putting her arm around him. "Our love has carried us this far."

Rich kissed her on the forehead, which was still slightly damp. "I do love you," he said. "I don't know where I'd be right now if not for you."

The two stared into the flickering flame of the lantern. "Rich," she began cautiously. "I want to apply to get back on the list for a government house."

Rich started to object, but she continued. "I'm one of only two power plant workers on the island; I'm a valuable worker. I know you don't want to live off your wife, but I think it's time to put your pride aside and let me help us."

"The president has done a terrible job of providing housing for all Tropicans," he said.

"You can't tell me you'd rather sleep in a barn or under a plastic sheet in the rain than take help from your wife," she said. "For the past three months I've felt helpless to do anything about our situation. But in our wedding vows we promised to help each other. Well, it's my turn. Let me help!"

Rich's mouth was clenched in that grim line again, but he did not object.

"Tomorrow, while you go to see what can be salvaged from the shack, I will go to the palace and apply to get my old house back."

"Fine," he said. "But while you're doing that, I'll be at the immigration office, applying for our exit visas."

"What?" she gasped.

"I can't live any longer under a government that treats its people like this," he said. "This island isn't a good place to live any more. I'm leaving!"

To Be Continued