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Chapter 55
Thursday, September 1, 2005
K plus sixty-four hours
September was about
two hours old when the first buses carrying refugees from New
Orleans pulled up at the Houston Astrodome. The world's first
domed stadium - declared in its day as the Eighth Wonder of the
World - the Astrodome had fallen on hard times. Abandoned by
the professional sports teams for which it had been built, the
place was now used for tractor pulls and trade shows.
Now, it was to serve
the greatest purpose in its existence. It would ultimately house
over 11,000 souls. It would be a fraction of the refugees Texas
would take in. It is said everything is bigger in the Lone Star
State; over the next few weeks they would show the world the
size of Texas' heart.
~*~*~
K plus seventy
hours
The evacuation had
started, but it would take days to empty the Superdome. People
still needed to be fed, especially since people were still trying
to get in. Fortunately, the military had been about to truck
in and airlift additional supplies to the Dome. Food and water
would not be a problem - for most people.
"What is this
crap!?" screamed a tall, heavy-set woman in line for breakfast
as she tossed an MRE right back at the soldier handing it out.
"I ain't eating this no more! I want me some real food!"
Buford was observing
the operation and stepped in to intervene.
"Ma'am, what's
the problem?"
She ranted and raved
at the captain. "You can't treat us like this! I want me
some hot food - not this shit!"
"Ma'am, please,
we're doing the best we can. We're all eating the same thing.
These MREs are very nutritious…"
"Nutritious,
hell! I can't eat this no more! It tastes like the paper it comes
in!"
Buford was working
overtime to keep his patience. "Perhaps another flavor?
The Chicken a la King is pretty tasty." He exchanged the
brown plastic envelopes. "There's a heating element in this
package - it's amazing. Can I get one of my people to show you
how it works?"
She yanked the MRE
out of his hand. "Goddamn government! Can't feed people
right! Just get away from me!" She stalked off, cursing
up a storm.
"Thanks, Captain,"
said one of the privates handing out the MREs. "I was about
to lose it."
Buford was tempted
to admit he had nearly lost his temper, too, when he felt a touch
on his arm. Looking down, he saw a disheveled elderly black woman
with a cane, being helped by a young man in a long, white t-shirt,
stained with god-knows-what.
"Sir,"
she said in a trembling but strong voice, "pay no mind to
that person. I just want to tell you that you're doing a marvelous
job helping us folks out, and I surely appreciate it. It's very
kind of you to leave your families at a time like this to help
us. God bless you, son. God bless you."
Buford heard the
rest of the crowd murmuring their agreement with the sentiment.
"Do you need
any assistance, ma'am?"
She turned to the
young man next to her. "Thank you kindly, but I have my
grandson right here. He's been helping me out. We'll be fine."
Before Buford could
continue the conversation, his walkie-talkie squawked. "Pardon
me, ma'am," he excused himself as he stepped away to hear
the message. A moment later he turned to his sergeant. "Mack,
we're needed at the VIP level."
The Guardsmen dashed
up the ramps and stairs, dodging people and trash. The place
was festooned with discarded MRE wrappers, drinking water cans,
used diapers, and trash of every sort. They had to use their
flashlights in the dark passages. The two were escorted by two
armed soldiers, M-16s at the ready. It took them a few minutes
to reach the hallway outside the skyboxes.
"Report,"
Buford panted as he came upon more Guardsmen.
The corporal offered
a quick salute. "We came upon some looters in the VIP section.
However, they were able to successfully elude us and resist being
placed under arrest."
Buford nodded, knowing
it was closer to the truth that his men had allowed the perpetrators
to escape. The NOPD already had too many vandals in custody,
and they were running out of room.
"Umm, they
tore this place up pretty bad," the corporal continued.
Buford peeked into
the suite. Unsurprisingly, the cabinets had been broken into,
probably in search of alcohol. What was shocking was the rest
of the damage. Basically, the vandals had destroyed anything
and everything they could - including the replay TV mounted above
the seats.
"And, you're
not gonna believe this..." The soldier pointed at one of
the seats, which had a familiar brown substance on it.
"Aw, shit!"
cried Mack.
"Yep, that's
what it seems to be," Buford remarked.
"Damn animals,"
muttered one of the troopers, which earned a quick rebuke from
Mack.
"Stifle that,
private! We gotta keep our heads, so keep your comments to yourself!
Now, fan out and keep those people where they belong." After
the patrol walked off, he turned to his commanding officer.
"Ain't no way
we can stop this, sir. There's five hundred of us and twenty
thousand of them."
"I know, Mack.
Our job is to do the best we can, keeping everybody alive. Private
property comes in second."
"At least there's
been no real trouble, 'cept for the suicide." Earlier a
young man had jumped off the Terrace level to his death. There
had been reports of two other deaths from natural causes.
Buford wiped his
sweating forehead. "Thank God for that. Let's get outta
here." As they were leaving, he glanced at the logo and
words on the nameplate next to the door:
DELTA GLOBAL SHIPPING,
INC.
~*~*~
"Are you ready
back there?" the skipper of the Motor Vessel Dreamboat
called out.
His first mate responded,
"I have the line loose, Will."
"Good. Just
hang on until I tell you to release it." Will applied power
to the twin screws of the cabin cruiser and turned the wheel
out towards the middle of the channel. "All right, Liz -
let her go!"
Elizabeth pulled
the rope aboard the Bertram 570. She then joined her fiancé
at the fly bridge of the yacht as Will piloted down the quickly
moving current. It was vital to move faster than the water to
maintain control, but with twin engines generating 1,300 horsepower
each, that was not an issue.
Dreamboat was nearly sixty feet of blue-water
fishing machine. All exterior surfaces were gleaming white fiberglass
and aluminum, a strip of marine teak lining the cockpit. Rising
high over the fly bridge was the "tuna tower," a second
helm used to control the boat when hunting the giants of the
sea. It also supported the radar and radio masts. With its deep
"V" hull and massive engines, Dreamboat was
fast and dry. But speed was not needed on its mission today.
The pilot's position
being along the centerline, Lizzy sat in the seat to the right
of Will. The boat cruised at a relaxed pace along the river in
the cloudless morning sun, Will watching for what little traffic
there was ahead.
"Spooky, seeing
the river this empty," he said to Lizzy. "Usually,
there's ship and barge traffic all around."
Lizzy watched in
silence for the next half-hour as they passed moored ships and
push boats with their barges. Except for debris in the current,
one would never know a hurricane had passed this way.
~*~*~
A new Cajun Navy
had been formed of boats, skiffs, pirogues, jet skis and airboats
and the watercraft scurried like water bugs down the flooded
streets too deep for National Guard trucks. Some were LANG or
W&F, some were Coast Guard or NOPD, and some were civilians
determined to help their fellow citizens, no matter what anybody
said. They ferried thousands to overpasses and drop-off spots,
working around the clock.
High above it all
was the Cajun Air Force - hundreds of helicopters from the Coast
Guard, National Guard, Navy, Marines, and civilian MEDIVAC companies,
plucking survivors off rooftops and overpasses, or ferrying medical
patients from Tulane Medical Center and other hospitals. With
so many aircraft criss-crossing the skies, it wasn't long before
one saw the incredulous sight of a cabin cruiser motoring down
the Mississippi. Calls were placed to the proper authorities
within minutes.
~*~*~
Will's radio, set
to the emergency channel, barked out, "Unidentified pleasure
boat, this is the United States Coast Guard. You are entering
a restricted area. You are requested to come about and leave
the area. Unidentified pleasure boat, respond."
Will glanced at
Lizzy as he picked up the microphone. "Well, here we go."
He depressed the switch. "Coast Guard, Coast Guard, this
is MV Dreamboat of Venice, Louisiana, master and owner
William Darcy aboard. I am president of Delta Global Shipping
of New Orleans. We are heading for the DGS headquarters at the
Julia Street Wharf. Request permission to continue downriver."
"MV Dreamboat,
state your purpose."
"Coast Guard,
I am attempting to do a damage survey of the port and our facility."
"MV Dreamboat,
things are really hairy right now. Request you delay your survey."
"Coast Guard,
I understand. However, I am trying to reestablish operations
as soon as possible. We can bring in relief supplies. I really
need to put my eyes on the situation. Please pass my request
to your superiors." Will turned to Lizzy. "Let's see
if that works."
"MV Dreamboat,
hold your position and stand by."
Will turned Dreamboat
into the current and applied just enough power to the screws
to maintain his position. As he minutes ticked by, Will grew
increasingly concerned.
"This is taking
too long…I don't know if they're going to go for it."
Just then, the radio
came on again. "Mr. Darcy, you have been granted permission
to continue to your destination. You are requested to hold your
position until a Coast Guard vessel can escort you to the Julia
Street Wharf."
Will breathed a
sigh of relief. "Coast Guard, thank you very much for your
cooperation. MV Dreamboat standing by."
"MV Dreamboat,
you're welcome. My boss said for you to just get those supplies
you talked about here soonest. Coast Guard out."
Lizzy smirked at
her fiancée. "It's good to be the king."
~*~*~
Captain Richard
Fitzwilliam held his head in his hands, a headache caused by
stress and lack of rest pounding in his skull, as he listened
with the rest of the command of the Third District to the end
of the after-action report of the attempt by the NOPD to re-establish
control at the Convention Center. The operation had been a fiasco.
The NOPD could only round up eighty-eight officers, a number
completely inadequate to manage the situation. The crowd of nearly
twenty thousand became so unruly the police were forced to retreat.
Whatever happened on the Crescent City Connection yesterday didn't
help things, either.
All right, so
it's back to patrolling the area and try to stem the looting
until we can get some reinforcements. We can't start evacuating
until we get some order around here. Maybe some National Guard
troops…
A police officer
tapped Fitz on the shoulder. "Captain, I just got a strange
radio call."
"Since when
have the radio calls not been strange?" Fitz sighed. He
got up from the table and moved away to talk. "What's up?"
"We got a report
of a cabin cruiser tying up at the Julia Street Wharf."
Fitz blinked. "Okay,
you win. That's about the strangest thing I've heard all day.
Julia Street Wharf? Where - by the Port Offices?"
"No, by DGS."
Fitz narrowed his
eyes. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me. If that son-of-a-bitch's
behind this…of course, he would be. Shit!"
"Sir?"
"Get me a car.
We're going to check this out."
Minutes later, the
squad car pulled up outside of the offices of Delta Global Shipping.
Fitz, walking toward the riverside, saw a tall man with a backpack
reaching down to assist someone climbing up the dock.
"Goddammit,
Will! Don't you have a brain in your head?" Fitz shouted.
Will pulled Lizzy
up beside him and turned to his cousin with a grin. "Nice
to see you, too, Fitz. You remember my fiancée, Elizabeth?"
"I do - Lizzy,
hello. But I thought you'd be smarter than this idiot, here."
Still, Fitz hugged them both. "Shit, I'm glad to see you.
You doing all right?"
"Yeah, we're
fine. Just checking on my building." Will frowned. "Fitz,
you look like hell."
"Well, that
happens when you've gone through hell." He pointed at the
Convention Center behind the storm wall from them. "You
have any idea what it's like over there?"
"We've seen
some stuff on TV," Lizzy said.
"Then you know
this is no place you wanna be anywhere near. Can I convince you
to get back on your boat and get the hell outta here?" He
looked out and saw a Coast Guard cutter pull away. "Fuck,
you've got the feds on your side?"
Will put a hand
on his cousin's shoulder. "Fitz, let me check out my building
real quick, and I'll get out of your hair. I promise."
"What's so
goddamn important about your building?" Fitz demanded.
"I'm trying
to reestablish operations here at the port. If everything's okay,
I can try to get a ship in here with recovery supplies."
Fitz looked up at
the heavens. "I can't argue with that. C'mon, let's get
it done."
He introduced his
driver to the two civilians and the four of them moved towards
the empty corporate offices. William extracted two flashlights
from his backpack, handing one to Elizabeth, before unlocking
a service door in the back. The policemen used their own flashlights
as they followed the others in. They climbed up the internal
staircase in darkness four flights to the top floor.
They walked through
the warm, unlit offices in silence. There was enough light streaming
from the windows for them to extinguish the flashlights. Still,
it was an unreal experience. Where there should have been the
hustle and bustle of a world-wide corporation going about its
business, there was only the sound of their own breathing. Tiny
particles of dust floated in the sunbeams, lending a ghostly
air to their inspection. Papers and pens and coffee cups sat
on desks as if they had just been abandoned, their owners disappearing
where they had sat. Trash baskets sat un-emptied. Computer screens
sat dead on the desktops.
Lizzy followed Will
into his corner office. He stood and stared at his desktop, papers
neatly stacked in piles, the phone quietly sitting on one corner
of the credenza.
"So quiet,"
she breathed.
"Yeah,"
he said. "It's never this quiet. Even at two in the morning,
the European office is sending stuff to us, the night crew handling
it. I miss the hum of the air conditioning." He brushed
his hand across a memo. "My meetings for the week. My travel
plans. A week ago, this was my whole life. But now…"
His voice trailed off.
"Will?"
Lizzy took his hand.
"It doesn't
matter. None of this matters," he gestured at a pile
of paper. "What matters is bringing all this alive again.
Bringing the city alive again." He sighed.
"Can you help
do that?" Fitz asked from the doorway.
Will's lips were
set in a grim line. "If I fail, it won't be through lack
of trying." He turned and walked out of the office, the
others hurrying to keep up. "C'mon, let's check the rest
of the building. So far, it looks like there haven't been any
break-ins or water damage." He grinned without humor, his
mind already going miles a minute with plans and strategies.
"That's good. We get my people back, DGS is back in business.
We can route traffic in, get ships in. Got to get my people back,
though."
It took another
fifteen minutes to see that Will's initial estimate was correct.
The building was undamaged. All it needed was electricity and
people. Both would take time to restore. The four stood outside
as Will relocked the building. He then turned to his cousin.
"Uhh, Fitz,
do you think it would be okay if I check out my condo up the
street?"
Fitz's face darkened.
"No, it would NOT be okay! We're in a controlled riot situation
here, and I'm not going to nursemaid you through it so you can
check on your poor little house! I've bent enough rules just
allowing this little jaunt." He pointed at the boat tied
up alongside the dock. "You just get yourself and Lizzy
right back on board your floating palace and get the hell home,
or I'll run you in for disorderly conduct. I mean it!"
"William!"
Lizzy scolded. "We're sorry, Richard. Thank you for all
your help." She tugged at a mortified William's hand, who
had just remembered that Richard had lived in Mid City, which
was now underwater. "C'mon, hero, we've got to get ready
for our guest."
"Sorry, Fitz,
I…I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry, I really am, about your…uhh…about
everything."
Fitz understood
what was left unsaid, and appreciated it. "It's okay, Will.
Just get that ship here that you promised."
Just before he began
the climb down to Dreamboat, Will called out, "I
will. Take care of yourself, Fitz."
"You bet."
He waved as the yacht pulled away and began to make its way upriver.
"Make a note," Fitz told his driver. "Make sure
that all the patrols for the Port Offices include this place
as well."
~*~*~
K plus seventy-four
hours
It was time to walk
Rufus again, and Jane's patience was wearing thin.
"C'mon, c'mon,
you stupid dog. Take a pee, already!"
Suddenly, Rufus
barked.
"Well, I guess
he told you."
Jane whirled around
and saw an unshaven Chuck by the corner of the garage. Fortunately,
Rufus wanted to see Chuck as much as Jane, for she dropped the
leash in her rush to embrace him. Chuck stopped kissing his wife
long enough to retrieve the dog's lead.
~*~*~
"The LORD
is my shepherd; I lack nothing.
He makes me lie down in green pastures;
He leads me to water in places of repose;
He renews my life;
He guides me in right paths as befits His name."
The small party
stood in the harsh noonday sun around the newly-dug grave in
the Jewish Cemetery of Lake Charles. A cantor from the local
synagogue led the service, for there was no available rabbi within
a hundred miles. Emma stood beside her sister Irene, holding
hands, both too overwhelmed to speak. Her brother-in-law Tyler
read a short eulogy for the family. The Tilneys were there, too,
in support of Emma, along with the members of the chevra kaddisha,
who had served as pallbearers.
"Though
I walk through a valley of deepest darkness, I fear no harm,
for You are with me;
Your rod and Your staff-they comfort me."
Emma listened to
the service, the rent silk scarf about her neck fluttering in
the breeze. She looked down at the plain wooden casket with pain,
knowing her father was being laid to rest for all eternity in
a borrowed shroud far from the side of her mother.
"You spread
a table for me in full view of my enemies;
You anoint my head with oil; my drink is abundant."
At least George
was safe, if still trapped. The brief phone call the day before
was the most wonderful, yet heartbreaking, event of her life.
He was determined that the patients and dependants get out before
he did. She didn't know when George would be airlifted out of
the flooded city, but she knew where she would be.
"Only goodness
and steadfast love shall pursue me all the days of my life, and
I shall dwell in the house of the LORD for many long years."(1)
The prayers done,
the men began filling in the grave. The hollow clomp of earth
falling on the casket chilled Emma to her bones. She could hear
Irene softly sob in Tyler's arms. As for Emma, she was still
too numb to cry.
The service completed
and the men from the synagogue thanked, the party gathered in
the parking lot, and Irene begged her sister once again to return
to Maryland with them. Once again, Emma refused.
"Renie, I have
to stay here until George is rescued. Surely you can see that."
"I do, Em,
but we don't know how long that will be. Where will you stay?"
"I'm going
to Will Darcy's place in St. Charles." Emma hugged her sister.
"Don't worry - I'll be fine."
"Look, I want
you to know that once George gets out, Tyler and I want you both
to come up to D.C."
"Yeah,"
added Tyler, "we've got an extra bedroom you can use, just
waiting for you."
"I'll remember
that." She then turned to her long-lost friends. "Cathy,
Henry, I don't know what to say." She hugged them both.
"Thank you for everything."
"Emma, I'm
sorry it took a hurricane to bring us together again," said
Henry. "Please let us know where you end up."
"I will, I
promise." She gave them both a kiss, and then kissed her
sister and brother-in-law one more time before climbing into
her car.
"You have that
map I made for you?" asked Henry.
She held it up.
"Thank you, Henry."
"Drive safe,"
cried Cathy.
Waving, Emma pulled
out of the parking lot as the rest of the group returned to their
cars to begin their journey westward, the Tilneys for Bayside
and the Parkers for Houston International Airport.
~*~*~
K plus seventy-six
hours
At a White House
ceremony, President Bush appointed his two most recent predecessors,
George H.W. Bush and William J. Clinton, as heads of the Katrina
fundraising efforts. The two former presidents had proven to
be an effective and friendly team during similar efforts after
9/11, and it was hoped that their bipartisan good will would
be successful during this crisis.
Meanwhile, Mayor
Nagin wasn't concerned with what was to come in the future, but
what was required now. Interviewed on television, the mayor begged
for massive amounts of assistance immediately. While his outcry
was understandable given his situation, what was unfortunate
was that he used this televised opportunity to proliferate the
rumors of atrocities in the Superdome and the Convention Center.
Already spread nationwide by panicked and gullible reporters,
the rumors developed a life of their own, as the world wondered
just what kind of outrageous people populated New Orleans. Rapes
of children? Rioting in the streets? People murdered for MREs?
Snipers shooting at rescue helicopters?
It didn't matter
that the reports were without merit. That the mayor and later
the police chief would repeat these stories to the press - mainly
stories that they had originally heard from press reports - gave
an appearance of authenticity to these terrible tales. No one
meant anything untoward by passing along these stories. They
were only trying to emphasize the magnitude of the disaster.
But, unintentionally, a seed of disgust had been planted in the
minds of countless viewers, including policy makers.
If New Orleans
and New Orleanians were that bad, was the city worth rebuilding?
~*~*~
It was late afternoon
before Emma's Volvo turned into Pemberley's driveway. By the
time Emma stepped out of her car, Lizzy was upon her. Will and
Mrs. Reynolds stood silent witness as the two old friends hugged
and cried together. It was then Will's turn to greet her, and
he renewed his offer for Emma to consider Pemberley her home
for as long as she wished - and George, too, after his evacuation
from the city.
Will asked Mrs.
Reynolds to show Emma to the guest room prepared for her, and
as the two left the room, he took Lizzy's hand.
"Honey, I've
been on the horn with Houston. There isn't much more I can do
from here now that I've seen the building. It's going to be a
while before the city lets us back in."
"I know. The
mayor's just called for a forced evacuation." She frowned.
"Are you going to Houston?"
"I think I
have to. Our board, our customers - they're getting antsy. I
have to be there to handle that kind of stuff. And…"
he paused. "There's rumors going around that DGS may transfer
permanently to Houston."
"But…but
DGS is your company. You're not moving it, are you?"
"Lizzy, it's
not that simple. I have no intention of moving, but the
board may have other ideas. I may have a fight on my hands. I
need to be there - run the company and strengthen my position
over relocation."
"How long will
you be gone?"
He sighed. "Until
we can move back, I think I need to be in Texas almost full-time.
I can come back on weekends - drive in Monday mornings and come
back Friday afternoons. Or take the jet, if we house it at Baton
Rouge Airport and I cover a portion of the operating cost."
He squeezed her hand. "At least we'll have the weekends."
Lizzy mentally shoved
aside her personal disappointment that Will was leaving and put
on her economic developer's hat. "Is there anyway I or EDNO
can help?"
He thought for a
moment. "For us to come back to the city after it reopens,
we need power, telecommunications, an operating port, and most
importantly, workers. We can't have workers without housing.
Do you think EDNO can get housing for my people?"
She held up her
BlackBerry, now operating since cellular service had been restored
in St. Charles Parish. "Carl Eden's called an all-hands
meeting at Louisiana Economic Development in Baton Rouge Saturday
morning. LDED has offered EDNO office space and phones. We can
start to find housing then. FEMA's going to buy trailers. Why
not have them where people work?" She warmed to her idea.
"You're going to need them, and so will the Port. NASA,
Avondale Shipyards - all of the big employers will need them.
We can make that priority one."
Will smiled. "That's
good thinking."
"Besides, the
sooner I get your workers back, the sooner I get you back."
She caressed his face as he leaned down to kiss her. "When
do you leave?"
"I've got to
check with Houston, but I'm thinking of driving in tomorrow."
~*~*~
K plus eighty-five
hours
The Astrodome may
have been, at one time, the largest building in the world, but
even it had its limits. The City of Houston declared the building
full after admitting 11,400 men, women, and children in less
than a day. The city and state officials immediately thought
of the Reliant Center, but it would be hours before it could
be prepared. So the endless line of buses filled with refugees
were rerouted to drive another two hundred miles through the
Texas night to San Antonio and the Alamo Dome.
~*~*~
(1) - The 23rd Psalm
- The Tanakh English Translation (1985), Jewish Publication
Society.
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