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Chapter 57
Saturday, September 3, 2005
K plus 112 hours
It was two in the
morning, time for Captain Buford's relief from supervising the
evacuation of the Superdome. Handing over command with a quick
exchange of salutes, Buford started to make his way from Loyola
Avenue to the Dome.
Downtown New Orleans
is not flat, no matter what one's eye says. Poydras Street slopes
gradually downhill from the levee, hard against the Mississippi
River, running past the Superdome as it travels towards the Lake.
Because of that, while the Dome was surrounded by filthy stinking
floodwaters, Loyola Avenue running in front of the attached Hyatt
Regency Hotel was dry. Officials decided to take advantage of
this during the Great Evacuation. The refugees were gathered
in the huge plaza that surrounded the outside of the Superdome,
and the throng would be herded down the overpass into what was
left of the New Orleans Centre shopping mall into the atrium
of the Hyatt and out to Loyola and the waiting buses.
Louisiana and FEMA
had secured hundreds of buses, but there were around 20,000 people
who had taken shelter in the Dome, and that didn't include the
hundreds of people who were trapped in the downtown hotels, much
less the 15,000 at the Convention Center. At about fifty people
per bus, it would take hours to transport all those people to
shelters out of town. The crowd was manageable as progress was
made, but the Guardsmen and Police were very nervous at the times
between arrivals of buses. The refugees' patience had just about
run out, and there was a real concern that some might try to
rush the transport, forcing the armed NOPD to draw their weapons.
Fortunately, the
wait between buses was relatively short, and progress was being
made. Buford saw much fewer people along his trek back into the
Dome than he expected, and the stadium itself was almost empty.
As Buford lay on his sleeping bag, he hoped that the long nightmare
was almost over.
~*~*~
K plus 119 hours
By now, 13,000 National
Guard troops had poured into New Orleans, and President Bush,
after signing the emergency funding bill, announced that they
would soon be supplemented by 7,000 active duty Army soldiers
and Marines. Nearly 100,000 active duty, Guard, and Reserve troops
had been sent or called up for deployment to the Gulf Coast Region.
Governor Blanco
had declarations of her own. She had finally responded that morning
to the White House's offer of federalization, faxing in her refusal.
She publicly announced a "new attitude" in New Orleans,
and promised that in three hours, the evacuation of the Convention
Center would begin. Apparently, she had abandoned her quest for
the return of LANG troops from overseas. Meanwhile, her office
was negotiating the hiring of James Lee Witt, FEMA Director under
Clinton, to manage Louisiana's response. While no one at the
time disparaged Mr. Witt's ability, given his good reputation,
many wondered if there wasn't just a bit of a partisan slap in
the face to the Republican White House by Baton Rouge's Democratic
choice.
~*~*~
The guard manning
the security desk at the Louisiana Department of Economic Development
in Baton Rouge directed Lizzy to the conference room DED had
set aside for the EDNO meeting. The first person she saw as she
entered the room was Jan Hill, and in a gesture that would be
repeated by people all over South Louisiana for the next year,
they greeted each other by hugging rather than shaking hands.
"Oh, it's good
to see you, Lizzy," the older woman said.
"You, too,
Jan. How'd you make out?"
"Okay - our
house was on the West Bank. We're staying with relatives in Donaldsonville
until we get power back. And you?"
"I don't know.
I think there's flooding on my street in Metairie, but I live
on a second-story apartment. I'm staying at Will Darcy's place
in St. Charles Parish. How about the rest of your family?"
"Everyone's
fine. Yours?"
"My brother-in-law
got a tree in his house in Covington, but no one's hurt."
Lizzy walked into the room and repeated the greeting routine
with everyone assembled. She learned that Carl Eden was in Baton
Rouge, Eddie Masters had ridden out the storm in a casino resort
in Tunica, Mississippi, Sarah Hunt stayed in her French Quarter
apartment before evacuating to Denham Springs, and Charlotte
Lucas had just returned from Shreveport.
"Bonita's driving
in from Atlanta," Char told her friend. "She's got
an elderly aunt she's caring for. Debbie's in New York, Steve's
in Cincinnati, and James is trying to find a place closer in
than Dallas. His place in Slidell got flooded." She paused.
"No one's heard from Kaywanda."
Lizzy turned to
Jan, her heart sinking. "Doesn't she live in Mid City with
her mother?"
Jan nodded. "I'm
scared to death about her."
The general conversation
about storm stories went on for a few more minutes, before Eden
called the meeting to order. "I know we were waiting for
Bonita, but we've got a lot of ground to cover, and we can bring
her up to speed after she gets here.
"First thing
on the table is that our business community got hit very hard.
Our lobbying team's already in Washington, working with our Congressional
delegation and federal officials. But we need to know exactly
what our big employers need.
"I know everybody
got hit, but we can do our best work by seeing that large employers,
like the Port, Northrop Grumman, NASA, and the petrochemicals
get up and running as soon as possible. If the foundations of
our economy aren't working and paying wages to their employees,
the retailers and other service industries will die.
"DED has generously
offered office space, technical support, and most importantly,
telephones for us to use. Our tech guys are standing by. We're
trying to get approval to get back into the city and pull our
server and our PCs out of our office and relocate them here.
Until then, we can use state computers, and DED has set up for
us a virtual drive on their server. Until further notice, we're
going to set up shop right here in this room."
"Right, Carl,"
said Eddie. "Our first job is to contact the big outfits
and find out what they need. On my team will be Sarah and James,
when he gets back. Steve will call people from Ohio and stay
in touch via email until he can return."
Carl turned to Charlotte.
"We anticipate the biggest issue will be worker housing.
I want you to get in touch with FEMA and try to get trailers
here ASAP. Bonita will work with you. Lizzy will be working with
me, dealing with the state and federal bureaucracy and coordinating
with our people in Washington.
"There's one
other issue you should all know. Our finances are very tight.
Of our major contributors, the electrical utility, Entergy, is
the only one standing by their commitment. The others, especially
the banks, are baulking at continuing their contributions."
There were groans across the room, with not a few angry remarks
tossed in. "You know we get a quarterly distribution from
the state. Unfortunately, it's a reimbursement contribution,
and we've already received the latest one. The next payment isn't
due for three more months. It will be difficult for us to meet
all the contractual agreements and programs of work laid out
in the memorandum of understanding we have with the state, but
the Governor's office has pledged to work with us.
"I'm working
hard to see if it's possible for the state to up-front its contribution.
The attorney general's office is looking into the legality of
that. While we're okay financially for now, we still have to
pay the lease on our offices - the building owners are not cutting
us a break. So, between that and salaries and benefits, we're
going to eat through our reserves fairly quickly, if I can't
convince our private investors to back us." He grimaced.
"I'm not saying it's going to happen, but please be prepared
that we might have to institute a temporary salary cut."
The room was completely
silent at that pronouncement.
"Well, come
on, we've got some phone calls to make," Eddie cried as
he stood up. The three teams gathered in separate corners of
the room, setting up workstations. Carl motioned Lizzy over.
"How bleak
is the money situation, Carl?" she asked.
"Unless we
change some people's minds or get funding from FEMA, pretty bad."
"Great. Just
when New Orleans needs us the most, our investors walk away from
us."
He patted her on
the back. "So we start thinking outside the box."
Lizzy glanced at
the rest of the team. "That just might have to be our new
slogan, boss."
~*~*~
Insult turned to
injury as looting continued throughout the area. The National
Guard reinforcements could not come fast enough, for the people
on the ground were overwhelmed as the looters became more and
more vicious. It seemed they were no longer bent on enriching
themselves, but rather intent on partaking in an orgy of destruction.
First Oakwood Mall
on the West Bank burned on Wednesday, just hours before the incident
on the Crescent City Connection Bridge, and now smoke was seen
coming out of the Shops of Canal Place in the heart of Downtown.
What fire departments remained responded to save the building
that housed Saks Fifth Avenue and other upscale stores. The damage
was heavy, but the firefighters won the battle. Unfortunately,
the fire was broadcast on news channels across the nation.
~*~*~
A Penske rental
truck was making good time on this, its second day out of Charlotte,
NC, as part of a caravan heading for a relief center in Hattiesburg,
MS. In it were two men and a woman, the lady with one hand on
the driver's thigh.
"Careful, Pat,"
she told her husband, "the Mississippi Highway Patrol is
notorious for stopping out-of-state speeders."
"I'm just keeping
up with the group. Call your dad on the cell and tell him
to slow down."
"Donna,"
said her brother, "I don't think the cops are going to give
tickets to relief trucks. Besides, we're not that much over the
limit."
"Well, I hope
you're right."
"It's okay,"
Pat Patel said to his wife, "we'll be in Hattiesburg soon."
"That's right,
you used to drive this way when you were going to Tulane,"
she remarked.
Patel nodded, not
happy to have that memory reemerge. The spring of 1999 was one
of the worst of his life. Pat had no idea that the panicked phone
call to his family in the wake of the incident on Mardi Gras
night would begin a series of events that so changed his life.
His domineering father took charge of everything, sending in
his attorney to "advise" Pat. Actually, the lawyer
simply instructed Pat on what to do and what to say. His father
demanded that Pat turn the sheets over to the lawyer, and both
frightened him with the possible penalties for evidence tampering
to insure that he would tell nothing to the authorities. It was
Mr. Patel's decision for Pat to transfer to Duke, leaving all
his friends behind.
His father's reasoning
for his actions chilled Pat. It was not out of love or concern
for his son that the man participated in illegal activities.
No, it was that no son of his would be anything less than rich
and successful in business and life. An incident such as what
happened at the Alpha Iota could prevent Pat from reaching his
potential, from getting into a top graduate school, and then
what would become of all the money his family invested in his
education? Pat, molded by a lifetime of obedience and subservice
to his family, obeyed their directives without expressed question.
He transferred to the business school like a good little Patel,
keeping his doubts to himself.
Afterwards, his
doubts grew and grew, and yet he did nothing, until he met the
lady that now sat beside him. Forbidden by his father from joining
any more fraternities, Pat took to hanging around the Duke library,
where he struck up a friendship with a pretty student worker
by the name of Donna. The two quickly found they had common interests
in technology and philosophy - a unique mixture that served to
bond them in friendship. They were just buddies, until the day
Donna, a minister's daughter, invited Pat to her father's church
for Sunday services. Having grown up in a fairly agnostic family
- the Patels left their Hindu tradition behind in India - Pat
had no opinion one way or another when it came to religion. But
he went anyway, if only to please his friend. He found the members
of the congregation friendly and open, surprising to someone
of non-Caucasian heritage, who had sometimes been faced with
prejudice. Donna's family had Pat over for Sunday dinner, and
everyone enjoyed watching a Carolina Panther game on TV.
One Sunday turned
into another, and before Pat knew it, he was a regular at the
service. His relationship with Donna changed, too, after a movie
date. Somehow friendship had grown to something more, and it
was thrilling and frightening to Pat. He was falling in love
with Donna, he knew, and he had found a home in Donna's church.
But neither would be acceptable to his family. As Americanized
as the Patels believed they were, for any of their children to
become a born-again Christian or to marry a person not of Indian
decent was unthinkable.
So Pat lived a double
life and kept Donna and the church secret from his family - until
the day when Pat stood before the congregation, accepted Jesus
Christ as his personal lord and savior, and submitted to baptism.
He was the only Patel there. After counsel and prayer with Donna's
family, Pat went public with his conversion and invited the Patels
to the event, the result being only an outraged phone call from
his father. In the heated conversation, Mr. Patel learned of
his son's engagement to Donna and vowed to cut his son off if
he went through with the marriage. But Pat had matured, and his
father's threats held no power over him. Pat Patel walked into
the church alone, crossing the Rubicon, disavowed by those who
had raised him, but left with a new faith and family.
Without financial
support from the Patels, a combination of scholarships, loans,
and an after-school job paid the bills for Pat's final year at
Duke. It was hard, but it was liberating too. Pat learned that
he could live on his own, support himself, and not have to compromise
when it came to principal. Advised by Donna not to cut himself
off completely from his family, he kept in contact with his mother
and siblings. While Pat's hard work and integrity would not be
enough to soften his father's heart, it was a blessing that his
mother, sisters, and brother attended his and Donna's wedding
that beautiful July afternoon.
Pat found work as
the CFO of a small technology firm in Charlotte, the owner a
member of the congregation. Between his job and Donna's, they
were able to buy a small house a half-mile from their house of
worship. This was important, as Pat became more and more involved
in his father-in-law's church. He was now a deacon and head of
the building and finance committee, while Donna taught Sunday
school. Pat grew very happy and content in his new life, so much
so, that one of his sisters recently joined the church.
While watching the
reports of Katrina's devastation, Pat and Donna decided to do
whatever they could. After a flurry of phone calls, a team was
pulled together and a truck was rented. Pat worked hard to raise
contributions for the mission of mercy. Church members filled
boxes with clothes, food, water, and bedding. The toy donations
were left behind. They left late on Friday. As Charlotte was
closer to the Gulf Coast than to New Orleans, Mississippi became
their destination, and they expected to pull into the relief
center at noon on Saturday.
They learned theirs
was not the only house of faith pitching in. They had come across
many similar convoys along the highway or at rest stops, the
names of their churches emblazoned on their vehicles. Cars, vans,
buses and trucks of all sizes headed down to do the Lord's work
and help their unfortunate countrymen. They joined the steady
stream of eighteen wheelers and military convoys rolling through
what was left of the Southern pine forests of Mississippi. Trees
were down all over, some snapped right in half.
At the relief center,
officials had to direct traffic, so much aid was coming in. When
they arrived, the good people from Charlotte rolled up the door
on the panel truck and distributed from the tailgate to people
of all colors and creeds, a chorus of "Thank you" and
"God bless you" their only reward.
During a break,
Donna watched her husband and father speak earnestly to a refugee
for a few minutes before they returned to the truck for a cold
drink.
"Who was the
gentleman you were talking to?" Donna asked them.
"A preacher
from Gulfport," answered her father. "His church was
only a few blocks from the ocean. Now it's nothing but a slab."
"Oh, my…that's
terrible!"
Pat lowered his
drink can. "He says it was a real inspiring place, lots
of programs for the kids and underprivileged - a real center
for the neighborhood."
"Losing something
like that can kill a neighborhood," added Donna's father.
"I'm thinking
we can do something," Pat said. "Not now - everything's
so messed up. But maybe we can raise a team to come back and
help 'em rebuild." He warmed to the idea. "We've got
members who know how to swing a hammer. We've got to raise some
money to buy the building materials, but we can do that if we
put our minds to it."
Donna's brother
took up the idea, claiming he knew of some supply companies that
just might donate the lumber. The others joined in, in a jumble
of voices, as a plan came together. It wasn't long before a delegation
sought out the Gulfport preacher to discuss their proposal.
"Lord Jesus!
Praise God! Praise God!" the exhausted man cried before
breaking down in tears, crying on Pat's shoulder, while Pat's
father-in-law lead them all in a prayer.
~*~*~
Chuck had spent
one full day at his mother's house, and that was more than enough.
After greeting him upon his arrival from Covington, Catherine
Bingley waited only until he was finished with his shower before
starting her complaints. The kids were too noisy. The dog was
whining. Why hadn't they heard more from John Buford? Catherine
refused to allow Jane to help in the kitchen, yet bitched that
she had to wait on everyone.
Yet, Catherine stood
outside as Chuck loaded the last of the suitcases into his wife's
van, protesting, "I don't think this is a very good idea,
Chuck. Carrie's house isn't as large as mine."
"Mom, don't
worry," he said as he shut the tailgate. "Carrie and
I talked about this last night, and we've decided that it'll
be better this way. We'll be out of your hair, the kids can all
bunk together, and Rufus will have a fenced yard to run in. I
can sleep on the couch- I've got to go back to Covington early
Monday to meet up with T.B. and his crew, anyway."
"Well, I hope
you know you weren't any trouble at all," she simpered.
Chuck somehow caught
himself from laughing in her face. Jane and the children came
out to say their good-byes, and Chuck went to retrieve his Great
Dane from a now-empty washroom. He walked the lumbering puppy
to his mother to take his leave.
"Bye, Mom,
thanks for everything," he said as he kissed her cheek.
Catherine, in a
moment of kindness, petted Rufus's head. That was all the invitation
the puppy required. Before Chuck could do anything, the Great
Dane jumped up on his back feet, threw his front paws on Catherine's
shoulders, and gave the protesting matron a sloppy lick directly
on the mouth. Catherine spurted in indignation while a mortified
Chuck pulled the dog down and hustled him into the van, his children
giggling, and Jane clamping her hand across her mouth. He tried
to apologize, but Catherine only waved him off.
"Get that creature
out of here!" she demanded.
Nodding, he hustled
to his car as Jane pulled the van out of the driveway, beginning
the short trip to the Buford house.
~*~*~
K plus 125 hours
At noon, the rumors
and promises came true as the first buses pulled up in front
of the Convention Center to begin the evacuation of the people
there. The refugees immediately broke into three groups. The
first were the most desperate to leave, and they would have rushed
and overwhelmed the transportation had it not been for the presence
of the troops and police. A second tiny group did nothing, the
shock of the entire experience having plunged them into a pit
of apathy. Kaywanda, Scott, and Mrs. Johnson were in the third
group, the largest of the three. Salvation was finally here and
would soon be theirs, after a bit of patience.
So for three hours,
the little impromptu family stood with the jostling multitude
in the broiling September sun, moving ever so slowly towards
the front for their turn to board a bus. The worst moments were
when there were no buses in the queue and some in the crowd began
to panic. People began to complain and children cried. Then another
four or five buses would show up, and the loading continued.
It was not organized in lines like at the Superdome; it was a
mass of humanity, smelling to high heaven, straining to reach
safety as represented by big, rolling, diesel-powered magic carpets.
When it seemed to
Kaywanda that she would spend the rest of her life in this crowd,
there suddenly wasn't any. Only a big, white wall before her.
Scott took her arm.
"Babe, c'mon, let's get on board."
It took her a moment
to believe it was their turn to get on the bus. They were instructed
to move to the back and to sit in the next available seat. She
maneuvered her mother next to the window before sitting on the
aisle, while Scott placed their precious duffle bag, containing
all that was left of their world, into the upper rack and sat
opposite her. Kaywanda held her mother's hand while reaching
across the aisle for Scot's as a woman behind them recited a
prayer of thanksgiving. Moments later, the group cheered as the
sound of the release of the air breaks heralded their imminent
departure, the cheer turning into applause as the bus began to
roll.
"We did it,
K," Scott said to her as he squeezed her hand, "we
did it." Kaywanda couldn't respond, except to squeeze back
in return.
An official on the
bus called for the passengers' attention on the PA. He announced
they needed information from the refugees and that cards were
being passed out. He was in the middle of instructions when he
was interrupted.
"Hey, man,
where are you taking us?" a voice cried out.
The official conferred
with the driver. "San Antonio, Texas. You'll be staying
in the Alamo Dome for now. We have plenty of food and water on
board, and there's a restroom in the back of the bus." As
a few people got up to rush to the back, he continued, "Let's
take it easy. We're going to be together for at least ten hours
yet."
"Ten hours!"
whispered a woman behind Kaywanda, but it was Mrs. Johnson who
responded.
"Well, I don't
know about you, but I'm in a soft chair an' in air conditioning
for the first time this week, an' my baby an' her man are right
here next to me. They can drive for three days, for all I care!"
The first man cried
out again. "So, when are we gonna get there?"
"Some time
after midnight Sunday," the official answered. At the puzzled
faces, he added, "That's tomorrow. Didn't you know today
is Saturday?"
"NO!"
the rest of the bus returned.
~*~*~
K plus 128 hours
The last few hours
of the evacuation from the Dome were the worst, Buford considered.
Just when there was light at the end of the proverbial tunnel,
so to say, the buses stopped coming. Later Buford would learn
that Governor Blanco, responding to press reports, ordered busses
diverted from the Superdome to the I-10 overpass at Causeway
Boulevard in Metairie. While those people deserved to be evacuated
too, for the remainders at the Superdome, the delay was unmerciful.
The crowd was always unruly, but this was the first time Buford
feared things would get out of hand. His relief at the return
of the buses could not be measured.
Finally, at 1800
CDT, in the long shadows of a summer evening, the Louisiana National
Guard could report that the Superdome was empty and secured.
Captain John Buford's week-long mission was done.
Katrina was not
yet done with John Buford. Not by a long shot.
~*~*~
Elizabeth sat at
William's desk in his study, reading and responding to emails
from her fiancé. Somehow, the company had found a hotel
that could squeeze him in, but the room was not to his liking.
You wouldn't
believe the size of this place. I'd bet I could park both our
cars in here and still not feel crowded. A suite is nice for
an extended stay, but this room is ridiculous. It would be too
big even if you were here - I'd have to chase you too far to
corner you and have my dastardly way with you.
Did I mention
that I miss you?
Meanwhile, George
Katz had spent most of the day sleeping in a guest room at Pemberley
Plantation, and Emma had joined him for an afternoon nap. He
woke up around five in the afternoon, rubbing his hand along
his jaw, shaven for the first time in a week, watching his wife
sleep. Emma stirred and opened her eyes to gaze at his unreadable
expression.
"What's wrong?"
she asked.
George reached over
and toughed her cheek. "Just making sure this isn't a dream."
Emma clasped her
hand over his and kissed his palm. "You've come back to
me," she said. "I say that's a dream come true."
George took her
into his arm and the two of them lay in the bed for a while,
silent, quietly grieving, gathering strength from each other's
touch.
~*~*~
Carrie had returned
home with Trey after power had been restored, and she was happy
to have her brother and his family move in until they could return
to Covington. She found Jane, Chuck, and Hailey sitting at the
patio table, the young girl in her father's lap, keeping watchful
eyes on Rufus the Great Dane and Max the Boxer while the two
dogs romped happily in the Buford's fenced-in backyard, barking
up a storm.
"What's so
interesting?" Carrie asked as she joined them.
"Just allowing
the dogs out before we put them in their boxes for the night,"
Jane replied.
"You haven't
seen that before?" Carrie teased. She noted that Jane was
holding Chuck's hand.
She snorted. "Rufus
has done his business twice without my begging. I'll settle for
that, after the week I've had."
"I'm just enjoying
a bit of normalcy," Chuck said as he hugged his daughter,
causing her to giggle.
"Daddy, you
look like a big old grizzy bear," Hailey said as she pulled
her face away from his week-old beard.
"That's 'grizzly,'
sweetie-pie." Chuck nuzzled Hailey again, causing another
eruption of giggles.
Carrie eyed her
brother. "I think it looks ridiculous, but," she turned
to Jane, "I guess it's your opinion that counts."
Chuck laughed. "She
thinks it gives me a rugged, outdoor look." He mouthed,
"It makes her hot," with a waggle of eyebrows.
Carrie looked incredulously
at Jane, but she simply smiled serenely.
Chuck kissed the
top of Hailey's head. "I'll never take moments like these
for granted ever again. The boys are inside?"
Carrie nodded. "Yeah,
watching Cartoon Network. It's time to put them to bed."
Chuck pulled a face.
"Aw, let them stay up a bit longer."
"Please, Aunt
Carrie, pleeeease?" begged Hailey.
Jane sighed. "Normalcy
is good, Chuck, and that means sticking with our regular bedtimes."
She stood and took a protesting Hailey from her father. "We'll
take care of the kids if you handle the dogs, honey."
Dogs were boxed
and children were tucked in with kisses and prayers, and the
grown-ups assembled in the Buford den. "Are you sure
you won't sleep in the master bedroom rather than the couch,
Chuck?" Carrie asked her brother for the fourth time that
evening.
"Yes, yes.
I'm not kicking a pregnant lady out of her bed. Besides, if ol'
John ever found out I made you sleep on the sofa, he'd come back
up here and beat my ass." Carrie frowned at Chuck's injustice
to her husband, but did not interrupt. "You and Jane share
your king-sized bed, and I'll be fine right here. I'll be fine
for two nights."
"So you're
still planning to go back to Covington?"
"Have to, Carrie.
T.B.'s meeting me Monday morning with a crew from B&B to
get the tree off the house."
Jane spoke up. "I've
put in a claim with our insurance company, and I'm going to start
contacting all of our creditors next week. With both Chuck and
me out of work, we're going to have to work things out with the
utilities, mortgage company, and credit cards."
"Are you going
to file for unemployment?"
Jane shook her head.
"I hope we don't have to. I'm waiting for the doctors' group
I work for to get back up and running, and we have to see what
Gallic National Bank is planning."
"Jane's already
called in on the recorded line, to let 'em know I'm okay,"
Chuck said. "But it's going to be a long time before anybody's
working in downtown New Orleans. Gallic's got to be planning
something - I just don't know what it is."
"Are you still
on the payroll?"
"As far as
I know."
"Chuck's last
paycheck was credited to our account," Jane added.
"What about
all the hurricane assistance out there?"
"I've already
applied for FEMA assistance. They'll direct deposit two thousand
into our bank account, but as for the Red Cross…" Jane
made a rude sound.
"Can't you
go online and apply?"
"No. You have
to call this 1-800 line, and it's always busy."
"I've heard
the Red Cross spokespeople on the radio," Chuck chimed in.
"They said to have patience and keep trying. They recommend
late at night."
Jane frowned, a
very rare occurrence. "I've tried at two in the morning
for two days, and I still get a busy signal."
Carrie suggested,
"Maybe they'll add more operators soon. How much financial
assistance are they promising?"
"Four of us
- something over twelve hundred dollars," Chuck said.
"I feel funny
asking for the money, but a promise is a promise. And we can
use the money, with things being so unsettled," Jane admitted
before stifling a yawn.
That was as good
a signal as any to begin closing things down. Carrie went first
into the bedroom to give Jane and Chuck a little privacy. She
wasn't surprised that it was almost a half-hour later before
her pregnant sister-in-law joined her.
~*~*~
K plus 132 hours
At 2200 CDT the
Louisiana State Police could report that the Convention Center
was empty and that all people who had taken refuge there had
been transported to refugee centers inside and outside the state.
The calamity at the Morial Convention Center was finally over.
It was not to say
that the rescue effort was done. There were still uncounted numbers
of people trapped in their homes, and others who had so far refused
to leave. There was no power or potable water. Looting and lawlessness
was still rampant. It was decided by the mayor's office that
the only way to get control of the situation was to completely
evacuate the city.
So, while the USCG
and others continued their search and rescue efforts, the new
mission of the NOPD and National Guard was to get everybody else
out. The Crescent City was to be emptied.
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