Western Terminus - Bisbee

“Let me show you one of the exam rooms where we administer the vaccinations.”

8:55 AM. The mercury had hit 105 right before Elias turned off the ignition and headed into the clinic. But it was a DRY heat. Ha, ha. He left his sport coat in the car, and made a mental note to invest in short-sleeve dress shirts, something he would never have worn back East. Dr. Ellen wore a lab coat, stethoscope and a BIA name tag over an Ann Taylor blouse and a skirt in navy blue. She walked fast and Elias walked in her wake.

“We can’t keep every migrant out, and Lord knows we can’t send them back where they came from. But with this pilot program of free clinics from the Bureau of Indian Affairs and HHS, we can be sure to vaccinate everyone and prevent dangerous pathogens from becoming epidemics on the North side of the border.

“The illegals, well, you just never know what they’ve been vaccinated for and what they haven’t. If you ask, they will tell you they’ve had all their shots and they’re perfectly healthy. They don’t want anyone questioning. So we start from square one and give everyone a full workup, shots, and scripts for whatever they need. An ounce of prevention and all that.” She turned the corner and knocked smartly on the flimsy door inside the building, a re-purposed mobile classroom. They had them back in Monrovia when he was a kid.

“How do you get them to come in? I mean, how do they know they won’t just get shipped back?”

“Education. We make sure the coyotes know we don’t do that here. That they should come here and get free healthcare. Obamacare, that’s all you need to say. They get the message. And after a few have been through, word gets back to relatives in Sonora.”

A tech opened the door in front of them and Dr. Ellen introduced Elias. “Marta, this is Special Agent Elias Tucker from the Phoenix office. He’s been assigned to Sierra Vista and Cochise County to keep tabs on the drug trade and so forth.”

Elias could see there was a Mexican woman with three children about to be examined. She heard “Special Agent” and became alarmed. Dr. Ellen could see her alarm reflected in Elias’ face.

She turned to the woman and said something soothing in Spanish. The woman calmed down and released the death-clutch she’d put on her youngest, a girl of maybe two years. Still in a diaper.

Elias took a step into the room and smiled at the child. “Me encanta,” he said. That put everyone at ease. Dr. Ellen and Special Agent Tucker left. The baby cried when she took the wicked needle. They could hear her down the hall.

“The worst is the UACs,” said Dr. Ellen. “The unaccompanied children. The coyotes will sometimes take them this far, but usually they just end up with the border patrol.” There were two bored, dirty kids in the next office perhaps ten years old, chucking pencils at each other. Boy and a girl. They barely looked up as Elias peeked in.

“Thanks for showing me all this,” said Elias. You have my number. If you see evidence of an uptick in drugs or if anything else weird happens…”

“Thank you, Agent Tucker.” She took his hand in both of hers. They were small and cool. She lingered and then stepped back. She looked very tired.

As he turned to go, she stopped him. “Oh! Agent Tucker! One more thing. While you’re in Bisbee, stop in and say hi to Sheriff Funk. He could be a good asset to you while you’re here.”

“Thank you,” he said, and put his mirrored sunglasses back on before crossing the hellish tarmac back to the car.