“It was our pleasure working with you, Emily. Thank you very much for your service,” Cal told her, standing up to give her a hug. “You are a true professional.”
“Thank you” Emily replied, wiping her tears. “And congrats to you, sir, for your new position. Happy times to you.”
The speech time had come to an end with a round of applause, along with some tears of good-bye. Michelle came over with a Chardonnay wine, and the group all mingled and talked.
“I cannot imagine how tough this has been. I am sorry, but I do hope that time will heal some of this for you,” Michelle said to Emily.
“Yes, thank you, Michelle. I’m not over him, but I guess… with time, I may meet someone else… get back into my work in London. I start a new staff job in a few weeks, so that will be a change,” Emily replied.
Jeanie came over and was listening, too. “You’ll be missed, Emily. Everyone loves you here. We’re just a secure phone call away.”
“Thanks, Jeanie. I think I will see my sister, then my parents, maybe take holiday down to Italy and get some quiet beach time. Just to think things through.”
Emily was being somewhat standoffish at the Ford comments. For months, she had been in a fog, a haze of losing someone she fancied so much. To have him disappear without closure was torture to her, and there would be no other group of people on earth that would ever understand her unfathomable loss and pain.
“Ford Stevens. OK, Ford Stevens, we can help you,” Vivaan told him. Ford never heard the reply.
Vivaan motioned for three females from the home to come over, pointed at Ford, saying something in Hindu as he waved his hands and arms. They females began to wash his hands as best they could and wipe his face with a cloth. They were not doctors by any stretch, but they knew he was not well, and they all discussed it.
“Vivaan, he is warm, almost hot, to the touch. This man is sick with the fever. Perhaps you get Dr. Dennis to come see him?” asked Vivaan’s wife. His two adult daughters were also there, heating up some more water on the kitchen fire.
Dr. Dennis Jenkins was a volunteer with Doctors Without Borders based out of New Delhi, India, but his full-time job was working in a Detroit hospital. Doctors Without Borders was helping India on improving their treatment and diagnosis of diseases such as tuberculosis, HIV, and visceral leishmaniasis for citizens unable to access healthcare in India.
Basic medical care was not available for much of India’s population due to poverty, social exclusion, and their small government health service, so Doctors Without Borders volunteered their time to help with mobile clinics in the villages. To date, more than fifty-seven thousand consultations were carried out and over fourteen thousand patients were treated for malaria.
“Yes, yes. I will,” Vivaan replied. Vivaan and Aayush walked through the village paths to the building that housed a small car battery and radio.
Aayush turned on the power as Vivaan sat down on the floor and grabbed the microphone. Loud static came thru the speakers. He turned the dial on the seventy-five-watt system, donated by Dr. Dennis so the village could communicate for treatment and medicine as needed.
Not touching the frequency numbers because Vivaan could not read, he knew enough to just press the button and talk on the system. He looked at Aayush, and they nodded.
“Dr. Dennis, this is Vivaan in Chal,” he said on the radio. No answer. “Dr. Dennis, this is Vivaan in Chal. Dr. Dennis, Dr. Dennis.”
“This is Doctors Without Borders in New Delhi. Say again, over.”
“Yes, hello, hello, sir. This is Vivaan in Chal. Dr. Dennis is our village doctor. We need help.”
“Hello, Vivaan. You have reached Doctors Without Borders in New Delhi, but Dr. Dennis is not here at the moment. He is with Team Rubicon Global in Nepal. Can we help? What is the nature of your request, over?”
Eyes wide open, Aayush was pleased that they had reached the doctor organization.
“Yes, hello. We have an American here who is sick. He needs Dr. Dennis. He is hot with fever and not talking. Very sick, sir.”
“That is unfortunate. We understand. What is his background? You say an American. What is the issue at hand, Vivaan, over?” came the reply from New Delhi.
“Yes. This man. He said he is a pilot from an airplane. From air force in America. His plane landed in the mountains,” answered Vivaan.
“OK, understand. We are looking at the map now. We are not aware of any airplanes or runways in your area.” There was a long pause as the staff looked at the availability and distances that would have to be traveled. “We think we can have someone to you in three days. Maybe four. What is the American’s name?”
“Ford. Stevens. His name is Ford Stevens.”
“Dad, Dad. Did you hear that? They talked about Team Rubicon. And they have a pilot who is sick who landed in the mountains? That is soooo cool!” Rex said to his father.
“That is kind of strange. An American air force pilot in Chal… India? Look it up, Rex. Where is that?” Michael told him. “Won’t be on your wall map, I don’t think. Use the computer.”
Rex used Google Maps to find Chal, along with satellite images of the village and snow-filled mountains. “Here it is Dad, check this out.”
Michael looked at it closely, then thought about the conversation. “Rex, no one just lands in these mountains. They are big. Like, really big, in fact, they are massive. These aren’t the Pocono Mountains; we’re talking Mount Everest.”
“Dad. Like this?” Rex showed him on the monitor.
“Yep, just like that. Gigantic. No one lands in there. You crash. That guy, whatever his name was, may have… survived.”
Rex looked at his logbook. “His name was Ford Stevens. I wrote it down. The town name is Chal. I just looked up the coordinates, too, Dad. They are 33° 16’ 30” North, 74° 9’ 0” East.”
Michael followed the grid lines on the wall map with his finger. “Hmm. Right here on the India-Nepal border. Weird. Terrain couldn’t be any steeper or colder on earth.”
Rex sat in silence thinking about what his dad just said.
“Something isn’t right here, Rex. I have an idea.”
“What is it?”
“Get me my phone, please.”
Michael looked at his smartphone, found the number, and hit the button.
“Who are you calling, Dad? The state police in Honesdale?” Rex asked.
Michael waived his hand. “No, no. Listen in with me.”
The person on the other end of the phone answered. “Hi, Michael.”
“Hi, Michelle. Do you have a minute?” Michael asked.
“Actually, no, I am at a going-away party for a coworker at a restaurant. Can it wait till tomorrow? I’ll just call you at lunch.”
Michael hesitated for a minute, and Rex shook his head no two or three times.
“No, Michelle, this will only take a second. Rex and I were listening to the ham radio in the basement just now, and we were listening in to a conversation in India.”
Michelle had to excuse herself and walk to the far side of their private room at Gordon Biersch due to the noise.
“I’m sorry, Michael, can you say that again? Can we talk at lunch tomorrow? I had to move myself from the dinner.”
“Michelle. I mean no. Ol’ Rexy and I were listening to the ham radio just now in the basement, and we were listening in to a conversation in India.”
“OK,” Michelle replied, but she was wondering why it couldn’t wait. “Can we… just talk tomorrow about it?”
“Well, it was from a man located in a tiny village in India, talking to a Doctors Without Borders doctor.”