He looked shocked.

“I came to try to find them. I have to get to Phuket.”

“That’s not going to be possible. There are no flights.”

“There have to be some flights.”

“Nothing is going to Phuket except for food and medical supplies,” he said.

“But there have to be some flights. They are bringing people here, right?”

“People come back when the emergency supplies are unloaded. They’re bringing people away from the disaster area, not to it…unless they’re medical personnel, or people needed to help with the cleanup.”

“I could help.”

“The best way you can help is to stay put here and wait for your family to come to you.”

“I just can’t wait. There has to be some way.”

He shrugged. “I can save you time by telling you not to bother trying to book a flight. They’re not flying anybody surplus into the area. And the only way to get there now is by road.”

“How far is it?”

“Just over five hundred miles.”

“That’s not too far,” I said, talking more to myself than to him.

“That’s a twelve-hour drive, under normal circumstances, and these aren’t normal circumstances. It would take at least twice that long right now, and that’s assuming that you could even find a car to rent or somebody to drive you. I’m sorry, but there really isn’t any choice. You should just stay here and wait.”

I felt a rush of anger. I wanted to yell at him or argue or fight with him, but what was the point? It wasn’t his fault, and there was nothing I could do to convince him or prove that he was wrong. He was probably right.

“I’m sorry I can’t do more,” he said.

“I understand.”

“I want you to keep checking back here every hour as we update the arrival list,” he said. “Look at the message board. You never can tell what information might show up there. And I was told that later on today we’re going to be given copies of lists from other parts of the country, including Phuket.”

“So, my parents could be on one of those lists?” I asked hopefully.

“We’ll hope they’re on the good list.”

“The good list?”

“The one listing the survivors.”

I felt as though I’d been slapped in the face. The list with survivors. Not the list of the dead. How could he even think that my parents might be on that list?

“Check back later,” he said.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, and started to wander away. I was in a daze, as if there was a fog surrounding me. I needed to sit down, but there was no place to sit. Even every square foot of floor was taken, and—

“You want to go to Phuket?”

I turned around to see a man in his thirties. His pale skin was marked by freckles and smudges of dirt, and he had dreadlocks sticking out from under his dirty base ball cap. He was wearing equally dirty shorts and T-shirt, and he looked as though he hadn’t shaved in days. His eyes were red, tired, and a little crazed-looking. All in all, he looked like the sort of person I’d cross the street to avoid in New York.