Ham & Chaz-1
2969 Words
Ham & Chaz
BY C. C. BROWER & J. R. Kruze
I"CHAZ? YOU READY?" UNCLE Jean was rustling around in his food truck, opening and closing cabinets, double-checking everything.
I swung my duffel up the steps into the truck. "Sure thing."
He looked at my bag, and the jacket I was wearing. "That's all you're bringing? We're going to be there all summer."
"Just packed light. Enough t-shirts for a fresh change every day, skivvies, socks, jeans. It's going to be hot, humid and maybe we'll get rained on every now and then. Didn't figure a raincoat would be worth it. I know every inch of this truck and know how little space there is to stow anything not vital to cooking or living."
Jean just smiled. "That's my nephew. Always practical."
There was a school bus bench seat that was bolted down just behind the driver's air-ride bucket. I stowed my duffel behind that bench seat and flopped down across it. "Ready when you are."
Jean moved around my legs and slid into the bucket, pulling the shoulder belt across his broad frame to click it in position. Then checked his mirrors. Turning on the ignition, the big van started smoothly. He checked the gages as it warmed up and turned into a throaty purr. "You've added another few inches to your length since last summer." Almost an after thought.
"Not so many that my favorite t shirts don't stay tucked in. There's not so many inches this year, and they tell me not so many more in my future."
"You can count on those nurses to give you the straight scoop. Handy having that nursing school in town. Free check-up for just about anything. Of course for you, the check ups go both ways."
"How do you figure? I'm no doctor and you wouldn't catch me being a male nurse."
I could see his face in the big bus mirror he'd installed above him to keep an eye on his cabinets and passengers. "Just as long as you can get your checkups at the beginning of each semester when the new student-nurses flock in."
I just smiled and looked out the window. Jean knew me better than I knew myself sometimes.
Uncle Jean checked the non-existent traffic on that street before he clicked the fine-tuned transmission in gear to roll and lurch out of the steep driveway onto graveled roadway in front of it. It would still be a few miles before we got to the nearest state road and actual pavement.
I was looking forward to getting to some real civilization as a break from these rural villages. My whole life had been spent in them, it seemed. Only long trips to state fairs brought any semblance of organized culture near me.
While I loved the quiet and peace that pastures and woods brought, I was itching to find what the rest of the world had available.
II"IS THAT ALL YOU'RE taking?" Mom was hovering around me, trying not to appear anxious, but she and I both knew she was nervous about my trip.
"Mom, I'll be find. Uncle Jean will make sure I'm safe. And besides, all those classes you make me take in self-defense don't exactly make me a victim waiting to happen."
"I know, I know. And when you get back, you can work on getting your next belt. All I want you to know is that we wanted you to be able to defend yourself, not look for trouble." Her forehead frowned again.
"Mom. Look, it's that Zen stuff that I like in these classes. They help me control any situation. I know my limits. I know when to back away. OK?"
She smiled and moved off a bit, knowing her hovering wasn't going to do either of us any good. "Oh, I almost forgot..." A few quick steps into the kitchen and then she was back by the front door where I had my knapsack and book bag. In her hands were two rolled-over lunch bags.
I had to smile. Mom was always looking out for everyone.
"This is a snack for the road." She held up the smaller of two bags, a brown one. Then lifted the bigger white bag. "And these are your Uncle Jean's favorite treats. But I know you like them, too."
Just then we could both hear the down-shifting gears of a heavy truck outside on the graveled street. Through the front door window, I could see the big food van slow to a stop.
I kissed Mom on the cheek and grabbed the rucksack. She bent to pick up the book sack and put the two lunch bags inside it on top, holding out the long straps together so I could put them on my shoulder.
I opened the door, slipped the straps on my arm, then pushed through the screen door out onto the paving stone walk to our graveled street.
"Be careful..." She called from the doorway.
I smiled and waved.
Jean had the door open for me and was smiling as he moved down the van steps to greet me. Giving me a big hug in spite of the bags I was carrying, he then turned and went back ahead of me to his driver's seat.
I made my way up the steps and saw the young man in the bus bench seat. I had to pause. He wasn't the same boy I'd met every year at the summer festivals. Longer, and now some beard showing up on his chin. His eyes were darker, even moody now. And a frown crossed his forehead as he swung his long legs down and got up to give me the bench to sit on.
"Hi, Hami."
"Hi, Chaz. Been awhile."
"Missed the festival last year."
"Yea, things come up. You didn't miss much."
"There's space under the bench for your things, I'll ride shotgun for awhile."
Chaz meant the fold-down seat just inside the van's front door. Where the only place to put your legs was usually curled up underneath it. Not comfortable for a long trip.
I stowed my knapsack under the bench, but put the book bag on the bench seat. "Jean, Mom made something for you, but she only told me you'd like it." I pulled out the white bag and handed it to him.
Jean took the bag into his lap and opened the top, then closed his eyes with the smells making his face widen into a smile of contentment. "Macaroons. She knows the way to my heart."
He waved out the still-open door to Mom, who was standing in the doorway, holding the screen open to see us off. She smiled back. Jean closed the front side door to the van, and put it into gear.
Chaz flipped down the seat by the door and got his own seat belt on to match Jean's. Then stretched his long legs out to rest them on the dash. Putting those new inches of his to good use.
Jean handed him the bag of cookies, and Chaz held it open in return, so he could take a couple in his large hand. Chaz then turned to me to see if I wanted any.
I shook my head no and settled in to get my own seat belt on.
But I couldn't get that vision of Chaz' dark eyes out of my head. Moody, maybe, but I knew we were needing to have a talk about things – comparing notes, or something.
Soon we were onto that paved state road. There were still some miles ahead before we could get onto the Interstate and start feeling that freedom that travel brings.
IIIWE DROVE PRETTY MUCH straight through. I don't know how Jean does all that driving. But I do understand why he invested in that up-scaled bucket seat with the air suspension. The other big investment was on the power steering, a smooth transmission, and what must be an endless supply of patience.
Hami had been busy in the back for the last hour, rearranging things, and setting up some dishes so she'd be ready to start cooking when we stopped. I tried to see what she was working on, but she wouldn't have it. Just shushed me out of the back and told me to find something else to do.
Like I had any choice. No matter how big this van was, it got cramped real quick. "Hey Hami, can I read one of your books?"
"As long as you don't start wagging your jaw at me about 'mushy' romance." And punctuated that with some clattering steel pans.
I found some thick novel, I think it was Gaskell's "North and South" - another dry classic, but when I stretched out on that hard cushion called a bus seat, I lost myself for the next hour or so. She was right about the mush in there. But I didn't see any Doc Savage or L'Amour in her bag, so this beggar couldn't be choosy. (Still, not even a Doyle-Holmes collection?)
Finally we got to a lot outside a one-story long hospice we were going to work outside of. It was getting dark, but I could see some yellow tapes strung around the place and white placards with red letting posted on poles. I think I read “Quarantine” somewhere in all that.
Once we pulled up, Jean let me be first out the door. And the exotic urban smells almost floored me. Exhaust fumes and hot asphalt, all mixed in a humid soup that made it hard to breathe.
Jean had a few words with Hami, then came outside himself. "I've got to go check in, or try to, anyway. Hami says her 'miracle' will be ready in 15 minutes or so. Why don't you get one of the folding tables out with a couple of chairs and pull out the awning?"
I nodded, he turned and left. I didn't feel like saying much, and that was fine with him. Moving around outside felt better than sitting and waiting. I knew where he stowed everything from working his truck last summer. Getting everything set up before Hami was ready to bring out her dishes was quick. I pulled out a checkered plastic table cover in lieu of scrubbing everything down in the darkening twilight. Although the outside lights gave enough to eat by, the anti-bug yellow glow made sure you identified all your food by smell.
And I didn't know if "miracle" was Jean's term or Hami's, but some breezes through the open windows of the van brought me smells that made me realize how long it was since I'd eaten.
Jean reappeared when Hami got the rest of the pots and hot pads down, taking several trips until I just told her to slide the screens aside and I'd help her. Her last trip was with a covered desert dish that was beading with condensation.
Jean had brought drinks for us. Three tall iced coffees from some local quick-stop convenience store.
We all sat, held hands, and bowed our heads for a moment. Then we dug in, coordinating taking a helping with being able to pass it to the next open hot pad. Hami took a few of the empty pans off, pushing them back through the van's windows and closing the screens behind them.
We were all tired, the food was great, and so the conversation didn't really start until we finished.
"Where did you learn to cook?" I asked.
Hami frowned. "I'm supposed to take that as a compliment, since you cleaned your plate." Statement of fact.
"Yea, I mean, sorry. I really wanted to find out if it was a book or lessons from your mother or grandmother or what. Like I wouldn't mind learning if I could." Of course all that came out of my mouth clumsy, backhanded.
Jean and Hami looked at each other. Jean just shrugged. She handed him the dessert dish.
"Well, see if you still think so after this last one."
And yes, I did, after having a little bit of heaven melt down my throat.
"I thought you had to bake cheesecake."
"Thoughts can be deceiving," Hami replied, with a wry smile.
I turned to Jean, "OK, now that you have your cook, what am I supposed to do this trip?"
Jean just smiled and looked at the two of us. "You're going to be the best summer cook team I've ever had. Hami is great, and that's no doubt, but you're the fastest short order grill cook I've ever seen. And believe it when I tell you that it's going to get fast around here. Almost all the local restaurants have closed due to the outbreak. So they are bringing in special volunteer teams."
"Outbreak?" Hami and I both spoke at once.
Jean just smiled broader. "Yes, it's just what you're thinking. No, we aren't at risk. When is the last time either of you even heard of any flu going around either of our little towns?"
We both sat back and started piecing it together.
IV"LAZURAI EFFECT." UNCLE Jean said at last.
That term rang a bell somehow.
"That's also why you are both adopted. You've got special genes and can't get infected by the normal stuff. Hell, probably by anything. There is one catch, though."
Both Chaz and I leaned forward at this.
"You can't allow yourself to get pissed off by anyone or anything. Because the same stuff that keeps you healthy all the time can make anyone around you quite ill, and quite fast. I'm only telling you this because it's probably something your parents haven't bothered to tell you so far. And they let me do it, because - well..."
I nodded. The pieces were falling in place. My mom had left my summer schedule open, while I was usually piled higher and deeper with activities. She knew I wanted to get out of town and see the world, especially when my reading list was filled with exotic locations. And the video's I'd bring home or download were about traveling.
Chaz spoke first, though. "So all our training and studies, even the sports we took were to help us get to the point of taking our first road trip, but you're here to tell us the ground rules."
Jean smiled again, but then got serious and leaned forward. "Only because you two can handle it..."
"Rite of passage." I finished.
Jean nodded. "All that Zen and meditation and inner counting you've studied. Both of you. You're going to need it in the next few days and weeks. Because you can both be unsung heroes, keeping your secret and solving their little problems - or you can make everything much, much worse. Your choice."
Then he sat back and sipped his iced coffee. And waited for the next questions.
It took awhile.
I spoke first. "Why keep what we are and everything about us a secret?"
Jean answered, "Because while people say they want immortality, they also can't accept the responsibility of it. The original Lazurai learned that the hard way. And why you don't see many of them around. That you can recognize, anyway. It's been the children they raised who have learned to master the talents and abilities the first ones were given. Your parents, your grandparents, all back to the originals have been working to this point."
Chaz would wait no longer. "Wait, so our genetic make-up has something to do with this outbreak. Meaning we can heal somehow?"
Jean replied, "Ever notice how fast you recover from a scratch or cut? How about a bruise from some of your sports? Some of that is you, some is from the people around you that are your family or your fellow towns-people. But the thing you have to remember is that the original Lazurai had no control over this. And even people downwind got sick - and died."
That thought took over - a place neither Chaz nor I had wanted to go.
Jean smiled to lighten the mood. "Of course, both of you are great under pressure, both of you are great cooks. You'll do just fine. After I help you two set up in the morning, I'll leave you to it - I have to get some supplies lined up and attend to some other matters around town. But just remember this - I'll always be around if you need me.”
Chaz and I nodded.
"OK, then. We're camping out. Hami, you've got the van, Chaz and I have the outdoors."
We all pitched in to clean up. Jean showed us where the sleeping rolls, pads, and ground tarps were. Parking lots and van floors weren't soft, but we'd make do. Just more adventure.
Of course, sleep didn't come easy that night.
VTHEY WERE WAITING FOR us before dawn.
Hungry people. Lots of them. Jean nudged my feet and I sat up, rubbing my eyes.
"No rest for the wicked."
I rolled up our sleeping gear and stowed it while Jean went inside to make sure Hami was up - she was. And he came back out with a wad of her sleeping bag and pad for me to roll up and stow. Jean then went around back to start the generator. I heard Hami firing up the grill and soon got all the smells of it. Meanwhile, I unfolded the chairs again and set out the small condiments table. Hami opened up the screen window and passed out the napkins, salt/pepper packages, and plastic-ware.
Everyone was pretty orderly and started forming into lines. I heard some coughing, some sneezing, but nothing really serious. Of course, in the dark, it was hard to tell much beyond the yellow glow under our awning. I did see some white nurse's and doctor's outfits in the line out there.
The guys in front of the line just smiled at me when I gave them any attention. And I smiled back. Our work was cut out for us, but they were honestly happy to see us.
Jean was inside, doing a final check to see everything was in place. I pulled up a trash can and put a liner in it, one of many I could see filling today.
Then I headed inside the van to get started.
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- Writer
