I headed to Warwick Mall Saturday morning.

It’s not what you think, although having not received gifts I’d ordered online during Black Friday sales, I was getting concerned. I wanted to see what Gina termed during her Friday COVID press conference as “pop-up” test sites. Saturday was the first day for the mall site, which is located at the entrance corridor near Nordstrom’s Rack.

I was impressed. Tables lined one side of the corridor. Behind them sat members of the Rhode Island National Guard. They wore gloves, a mask and a clear shield over their faces. They were cordoned from a parallel line of shoppers that stretched to the mall concourse – I didn’t count, but I’d guess 35 people. At the head of the line, a guardsman held one of those ticket devices found at a supermarket deli. He tore off a ticket for the person waiting and told them to hold onto it. When there was an opening at one of the tables, the person was directed there.

“That’s you, John?” came a voice from behind a dark mask. It was Patty Gomm, whose work with the Boy Scouts, and in particular the introduction of girls to the program we have covered. She held a ticket, ready to be called.

This was Patty’s first test. She wasn’t feeling sick, but she wanted the reassurance of knowing for sure. She is planning a Zoom Christmas with her mother, Barbara Joyce. “I can’t bring her over.”

Patty was directed to a table manned by Pvt. Jake Bassignani. He asked for her number and transcribed it on a card not much larger than a credit card. He then held up what looked like a straw, only shorter, and directed Patty to pull out the stick from the end. She now held a stick with a swab at its end.

Jake told her to insert it in one nostril and turn it five times and then repeat the process in the other nostril. Then Patty inserted the swab end of the stick into a hole in the card that had her number. She folded the card over the swab and sealed it.

That was it. No one took down Patty’s name, address or contact information. She was told to come back in 15 or 20 minutes to stand in a second line to get her results. Apart from the waiting in line, the test had taken all of a couple of minutes, if that.

This was easy, nothing like the tests I had witnessed when the Guard opened a test site at the CCRI Knight Campus parking lot in April. Swabs weren’t inserted deep into the nostril. There was no waiting days for results.

I went to the end of the line where I found Sgt. First Class Brian Wheeler. He told me the procedure at the mall is identical to what the Guard is using at the Dunk in Providence and Green Airport. In the first three hours at the mall, they had administered 500 tests. By the end of the session, they had conducted 650 tests. On Sunday, they did 887.

Of those tested, I asked, how many were positive and what becomes of those who are tested positive?

Yes, there had been a number of positives, but Wheeler wasn’t prepared to divulge numbers. I learned on Monday the positivity rate was just under 7 percent on Saturday and 5.5 percent on Sunday. Wheeler told me that while the unit, numbering about 50, has been performing tests since this spring, none of them have been infected. The Guard took the names of those who tested positive for contact tracing, told to isolate and to leave the mall.

“We hope they do the right thing if they come up positive,” Wheeler said. He recommended a PCR [polymerse chain reaction] test as a means of confirming the rapid test.

I joined the line of those waiting for the test. Patty, who had just gotten her results, found me.

“I came up negative,” she said with a sigh of relief. We exchanged first bumps and wishes for a merry Christmas. It wasn’t long before I was twirling a swab in my nose.

Twenty minutes later I was in the line to get results – all three of us. I held my deli ticket.

The woman at the head of the line handed over her number. The soldier scanned a list and then stepped into a room off the corridor. He reappeared with some papers. I couldn’t hear the conversation, but from the body language it was clear she had tested positive. She stood to the side forlorn and alone.

I handed over my number. The Guardsman looked down the list, declared “negative” and handed me a sheet advising me to stay home should I develop symptoms and to wear a mask.

I felt relieved.

I looked to the woman. Head down, reading what she had been given, she didn’t look back.

Do I wish her good luck? I thought better. It would mean walking over to her. Might I then be exposed?

Yet, members of the guard were advising her and undoubtedly she would talk with others and maybe even be in a situation where she would require the assistance of doctors and health care workers. They are there when others aren’t. Theirs is a gift I had not dreamed of on my pre-Christmas visit to Warwick Mall.