At the end of a darkened hallway is a lone radio operator who is inundated with calls. Ricot Dupuy is sending out one of the few radio broadcasts that's coming from Haiti, and listeners are asking if there's any way he can get word back to ask about their loved ones.
It's difficult, even for him.
"I did get through for 2½ minutes before getting cut off," Dupuy said.
One caller to the radio program asked about her blind mother who is living alone in Haiti. To her relief, someone in the country agreed to check.
In another room at the station, a man who had hovered for eight hours finally got word that his brother had survived.
"I am very, very, very happy," he said.
But there are limits to what one radio operator can do. Dupuy was still airing that one radio feed from Haiti Wednesday evening and was still waiting to hear from that caller's blind mother.
In Haitian communities across this country, others were experiencing the same excruciating wait.
A father in Miami waited for word on his wife and three young children. He hadn't slept since the earthquake hit.
"They are in God's hands," the man said. "That's it. There's nothing I can do."
Shortly after the quake struck and news spread, Rose Leandre of Spring Valley, N.Y., tried to call her mother, who had traveled to her native Haiti a day earlier.
"She's disabled. She has severe arthritis, so during the wintertime, it's horrible for her, so she usually goes and spends a month or two in warmer weather," Leandre said Tuesday evening.
Leandre runs the Haitian-American Cultural and Social Organization, which provides immigration, social and educational outreach to the sizable Haitian community -- estimated to be at least 11,000, according to the U.S. Census -- in Rockland County, one of New York City's northern suburbs.
The center has been fielding inquiries from anxious Haitians in the community.
"Everybody's been calling all over and calling each other, 'Have you heard from your family?' And, so far, no one's getting through," she said.