The Saints of Tacloban

When we are finally able to break away from the mob, the three of us stop to rest for a bit and look around. The screams of the mob are so far away that it's almost lost on the wind. A bit of trash flutters past our feet until another gust of wind plasters it to a closed storefront. No one walks the streets except the three of us, and only one face peers at us from the window of a tall apartment building. I stare up past the web of power lines to better see the face, but it turns away from the window.

"Taka... we should think about what to do next," Ling says, still out of breath. He's the fittest of us, and he looks like he's only a few seconds away from getting sick. He puts a hand against his head, leaning against a vacant truck. "Shit... I need to work out more."

"Yeah, let's talk about it after we can breathe," I say, my chest heaving. I'm a little embarrassed about being so out of shape, but I never expected myself to be in a situation like this. I wipe some sweat off my neck, glancing over at the Korean girl. She rests her hands on her hips, walking in tight little circles along the street to catch her breath.

"Are you alright?" I ask in Japanese.

"Yeah," she says, wiping her forehead. "Just give me a minute."

I look around again. The buildings are tall and packed together, like they are in Japan. Many of them are dilapidated with flapping tarp in place of windows and rust-colored streaks running down the sides. It's hard to tell what color they are supposed to be. Some buildings have sagging roofs made from sheets of metal pounded thin. They slope down past the windows like rusty eyelids, dented and rusted in places. Some buildings are made of crinkled metal sheets in varying colors and thicknesses, like asymmetrical patchwork. Shirts, dresses, and even underwear dance in the wind on the clotheslines that hang over the windows. The reminders of life where there is none, is quite unsettling.

"It's creepy how quiet it is," she says, as if reading my mind.

"Heeeeeyyyy!" a voice calls from far away in English. The three of us turn. A lone man stands in the street, waving at us. "You civilians?"

"Look at his clothes," Ling says, pointing. "He's a cop."

I recognize the badge on his chest. Ling is right. "Do you think we should answer him?"

"I don't see why not. The cops seem to be on our side."

I wave my arm. "We're foreigners!"

"Don't worry! I'm coming to you!" He starts running toward us, and I feel relief rushing over me. Maybe it's the eerie quiet, but seeing another human being makes me feel a little more comfortable. Especially a police officer. He trots up to us, out of breath by the time he makes it. "Wow, you guys really are foreigners. It's a shame that the typhoon had to come while we were hosting you. Oh, I'm Officer Joseph."

The first and only thing I notice about him was that he isn't carrying any weapons. He doesn't have a gun (not even a holster for one), a taser, or anything else remotely weapon-like. Japanese officers don't carry weapons, either, but doesn't this kind of situation call for some kind of weapon? If not for self-defense, then to save civilians from each other?

"Uh... yeah, so can you help us, officer?" Ling says, like he doesn't think much of him or his help. "We were separated from the other musicians. We were supposed to leave on a jet like an hour ago."

"You can come with me back to the station, but there isn't much that can be done for you," he says, scratching his head a little, like it's embarrassing him more than inconveniencing us. "The evacuating flights are already going to be overfull. Is there anyone you can contact overseas? Maybe the consulate?"

Ling looks as though he had braced himself for the news but is disappointed to hear it anyway. "I'll call my agent, my mom, even my ex-girlfriend if I have to. Just get me there so I can make the call."

"All right, come on."

Officer Joseph begins running back the way he came. We follow him through side-streets and across a set of train tracks. I explain the situation to the Korean girl as we run, but I have to make it short. I'm already running out of breath halfway through the first block. Right when my lungs feel like they will burst and my legs are about to fall off, the officer stops short. I almost run into him, grimacing at the stitch in my side. "This is the police station. Come with me."

It doesn't look very different from the other buildings. A little cleaner, maybe. The windows are all intact, at least. I hold the door open for my companions and hobble behind them into the cop's office, which was basically just a closet with a desk and two stools. On top of the desk sits a huge stack of papers and an old Macintosh. A corded phone hangs on the wall behind the desk.

"You can use that phone, there. I'm going to watch the news in the other room. Come get me when you're done," he tells us, politely excusing himself and closing the door behind him. Ling wastes no time punching in numbers and waiting for an answer.

"Do you have anyone you can call?" I ask the girl.

"I'm going to try my agent," she says, but she doesn't look very hopeful.

"Me too." My family isn't rich enough to pull the strings necessary to get me home unless they can contact the consulate. I don't think my friends would be much help, either. There is a chance that my brother might be able to get me home if my agent can't, though.

The three of us wait for ages before someone finally answers Ling's call. He talks in Chinese, so it's hard to tell whether things are going well. It always sounded to me like Chinese people were yelling at each other. I figure it out, though, when he slams the phone back onto the receiver with a growl.

"My agent said it'd be at least three days before anyone could get here," Ling snaps, running a hand through his hair. "There are officials to pay off and bribes to make before they can even begin to negotiate with anyone." He lets out a long sigh. "At least we might have a chance of getting home if we can make it through the typhoon."

"What about those band guys from the conference?" I say, thinking back to Shim and the Americans. "Wouldn't they tell someone? Westerners are quick to respond, or so I've heard."

"I don't know," Ling says, but the way he says it makes it clear that he isn't going to get his hopes up. He throws himself down on the stool just as the Korean girl stands up. She walks gracefully over to the phone and dials her agent. Ling picks at something on the desk. "I've called everyone I know. Even acquaintances."

"I'm sure someone will be looking for us, especially after the guys from the conference get to Hong Kong. They won't leave us here," I say, though the foreboding feeling growing my gut doesn't necessarily agree with me.

Ling doesn't bother responding. We both have our eyes on the girl, watching and waiting to see if she has any better luck. Everything in the room is so quiet and tense that I can hear the ringing from the phone and the blood rushing in my ears. Her long, ivory nails click nervously against the plastic shell of the phone as she waits.

She gets an answering machine.

After leaving a brief message, she hangs up and crosses the room, shaking her head at us. I stand up and let her take my place on the chair. Suddenly, the room feels much longer. My heart pumps faster with every step until I reach the phone. It's cool and heavy in my hand and feels more like a gun than a phone. It's my turn.

I punch in my agent's number. It goes straight to voice mail, so I leave a message. I hang up. With nothing left to lose, I pick up the phone again, dial my mom. The phone rings twice before she answers.

"Iwamori residence, this is Aiko speaking."

Perhaps the events of the day are catching up to me, but my mom's voice makes me tremble and want to cry. I realize that I haven't called her in months. "Mom... it's me... Taka."

"Oh, Taka!" she says in something like a gasp. I hear the shuffling as she tries to cover the receiver. "Honey! Come to the phone! Quick!" There is more shuffling as she places the phone to her ear again. "Your father is coming."

"Mom, I can't talk long. I'm sorry." I hold back the emotions that start to build in my chest. "I'm stuck in Manila with some friends. We came for a music conference, but with the typhoon and everyone so scared, we got separated. They left on a jet for Hong Kong, but we're stuck here. I'm at the police station," I say, the words pouring out of me so fast I don't even have time to think about what I'm saying. "They said there are planes coming to evacuate the locals, but we... we don't have any way of coming home. The typhoon will hit Manila within the next few days. I tried calling my agent, but his phone's off. I need you guys to try and contact the Japanese consulate for me and explain my situation. They might be able to help me."

"Yes, yes of course," she says, her voice already getting husky. Somehow, she's keeping it together even though I'm basically telling her I might die. "I'll call them right now. You stay by the phone, okay, Taka? I'll call you right back."

Although it's almost impossible to make myself do it, I hang up the phone.

Ling and the girl look at me expectantly. I tell them what had just happened, but before they can say anything, the phone rings. I pick it up immediately.

"Mom?"

"I got ahold of them," she says quickly, but her voice wavers a little. I wonder if she has already cried. "They said they'll send a helicopter. It will be there in about 5 hours. They want you to leave a signal for them to land and find you. Hold on and be strong, honey."

It's the best news I heard in my whole life. After I hang up, I relay the news to them. The tension in the room lifts, replaced by an almost giddy relief, as their faces change. Ling stands up and stretches a little, a big smile on his face.

"I'm gonna find Officer Joseph and get us all some beers," he says happily, leaving me alone with the Korean girl.

"I'm glad it was you," the girl says suddenly. "That got through, I mean."

"Oh. Yeah, I'm glad too." It's true that I would have been more than happy with anyone coming to rescue us, but I'm glad that it's someone I can understand and communicate with.

"My name is Yuri," she tells me, smiling just a little. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before."

"Oh, don't worry about it. I'm Taka, but I think you already know that."

"Nice to meet you... officially." She stands up and gestures to the door. "Do you want to find Ling and have a drink? I sure could use one."

I stand up and can't suppress a smile. "Yeah, me too."