Southern Ruby (58 page)

Leroy poked his head out of the window next to me. ‘Elliot! I'm sure glad to see you! Where did you get the boat?'

Elliot secured the boat to a drainpipe and climbed in through the window.

Grandma Ruby embraced him fiercely. ‘Thank God you are all right,' she said. ‘I'm sorry we don't have any water to give you.'

Elliot sat on the bed. ‘The coastguard gave me a bottle this morning. I didn't ration it though — I was too thirsty.'

‘What happened to you after you left here?' I asked, sitting next to him.

‘The wind had picked up too much for me to make it back here so I took shelter in a friend's house in the Upper Ninth.' He lowered his eyes. ‘The house split in two when the flood came . . . my friend didn't make it. I clung to the submerged roof of the neighbour's house thinking I was a goner until that old boat bobbed past like some kind of miracle. But when I climbed into it I discovered it was occupied by a rattlesnake. I tipped it out pretty fast and it swam away.'

‘The water must be full of dangerous snakes,' observed Leroy.

‘It's full of lots of things,' Elliot replied grimly. ‘From what I've seen, most of the city is underwater. On my way here, I saw the coastguard picking people up. Some police and firemen are out in motor boats, but rescue is difficult because there are cars and other stuff under the water. Wildlife and Fisheries are using their flat-bottom boats to help.'

‘The coastguard? Wildlife and Fisheries?' said Leroy, looking horrified. ‘Is that all there is? They haven't got the capacity to deal with this kind of disaster! Where are the goddamn army and the air force? Doesn't the rest of America know what's happened here?'

Elliot shrugged. ‘I don't know. It took me a while to make my way here.' He looked up at us and said with a thickening voice: ‘Thank God you're all alive. From the way things appear here in the Lower Ninth, a lot of people haven't made it. The rescuers are dropping survivors off at the St Claude Avenue Bridge where they say they're going to be picked up. I'll take you there now.'

Elliot climbed back into the boat, then we each crawled out onto the roof — Leroy's first so he could help Grandma Ruby. She was more agile than I gave her credit for and manoeuvred
herself gracefully into Leroy's and Elliot's arms without tipping the weatherbeaten boat. I realised I was going to have to trust in her resilience to get through this.

The roof was hotter than I'd expected and it burned my chest and stomach when I leaned across it to push the new box I'd made for Flambeau towards Elliot, who put it in the bottom of the boat. Then I passed him our bags. I'd put some of Grandma Ruby's medications in a bottle in my zippered pocket in case the boat capsized and we lost our supplies. I was learning to have a contingency plan for everything.

When I got in the boat, I kissed Elliot. His mouth was dry and his lips were burned.

‘You're going to have to be strong for your grandparents,' he whispered. ‘What's out there is pretty bad.'

Leroy plucked a wooden plank out of the water to use as an oar to help Elliot row. He looked over his neighbourhood with eyes clouded with pain. ‘I can't believe it,' he said. ‘It's all gone.'

‘We've got to move slowly,' Elliot warned as he pushed the boat away from the house. ‘I nearly got snagged on a live wire on my way here. One of the Wildlife and Fisheries rescuers said they've spotted alligators swimming around. Another guy claimed he saw a bull shark washed in from Lake Pontchartrain.'

I couldn't see how any living thing could survive in the oily toxic-smelling water. We'd have to be careful of cuts, which could quickly turn septic in the heat. I wanted to shut my eyes against the destruction around me, but I had to keep watch for anything that could pierce the boat. The water was so high that street signs and even traffic signals were submerged under the surface. Shoes, paper, toys, letterboxes and suitcases all floated in the water. Leroy's oar struck something and a shape drifted up from the murky depths. At first I thought it was a shark, but then I saw the eyes: human eyes, wide and staring. The man's shirt floated up around his bloated torso. Leroy pushed the body away as respectfully as he could.

‘I've seen plenty of them,' Elliot said, his voice breaking. ‘There was a whole family bobbing around near the overpass — mom, dad, kids and grandparents. I hope I don't come across anybody I know.'

We reached a bridge where people were sitting with plastic shopping bags filled with clothes on their laps. The towels on their heads were their only protection against the sun. They looked hot, dirty and exhausted. I glanced at our foursome and realised we looked the same.

‘Have you heard if they're coming to pick you all up?' Elliot asked the people on the bridge.

A man nodded. ‘A truck came about an hour ago. Dropped off some water and took some people. The driver said he'd be back.' He handed us a couple of bottles of water to share. ‘Sorry there's not more,' he said. ‘He didn't give us much.'

We thanked him and each took sips of the warm water, grateful to have something to drink.

Once we'd loaded our bags and Flambeau's box onto the bridge, Elliot got back in the rowboat.

‘Where are you going?' I asked him.

‘There are hundreds of people stuck on their roofs and trapped in their attics. They were calling out to me when I came to get you. I've seen dogs and cats too, clinging on to bits of wreckage. I'll never be able to live with myself if I don't help as many as I can.'

Our eyes met. I knew it was dangerous and that if he went out there again in that shaky little boat, he might not come back. It was a miracle that he'd survived the first time. My lips trembled and I leaned over and kissed him like it might be our last goodbye.

‘Be strong for your grandparents,' he said. ‘We'll find each other again.'

I watched him row off, back in the direction of the Lower Ninth Ward. It seemed like an insurmountable task for a
few individuals to be rescuing all those people and animals. I clenched my fists and shut my mind to what could happen to him out there. Elliot was right — I had to stay strong for Grandma Ruby and Leroy.

There was no cover on the bridge and the sun beat down on us mercilessly. I found the escape route pamphlet Oliver had given me and used it to fan Grandma Ruby.

I looked at my arms and legs. They were darker than they'd ever been. Even as a teenager I'd been obsessed with premature ageing and had always smothered myself in sunscreen and never purposely tanned. It was like New Orleans was bringing out the blackness in me and this experience was happening for a reason I couldn't fathom yet.

Flambeau pecked at his box. He must be getting hot in there. I opened the lid and offered him some cracked corn, but he turned away from it. Even he didn't have an appetite.

We waited in the burning sun for another two hours. I stared out at what had been a busy neighbourhood but all I could see now were the tops of trees poking above the water, some submerged roofs and floating debris. The absence of city sounds — traffic and sirens — was unnerving.

‘Lord have mercy on the people trapped in their attics,' said the man who had given us the bottles of water. ‘With this heat they are going to burn up like the bodies in the tombs in the old cemeteries do.'

I grimaced and looked back to the water. Boats were arriving with more people: rubber dinghies, aluminium fishing boats, canoes. I buried my head in my hands. If these were the only vessels available for rescue, those people still alive in their attics didn't stand a chance. At the sound of a motor rumbling I lifted my head. I expected to see an army truck but instead a rust-riddled courier van pulled up beside us and the long-haired driver beckoned. ‘I can take four of you. It's all I've got room for in the back.'

The people who had been on the bridge before us declined. ‘We're one family. We go together or not at all,' said one of the older women. She indicated to us. ‘You can go. You're only three.'

I glanced back to the van's driver who was sliding open the rear door. His hair was greasy and streaked with grey and his overalls were covered in stains. This wasn't a time to be fussy about appearances, but who was he?

I glanced back to Leroy and Grandma Ruby for guidance, but they were both sitting on the hot concrete with their shoulders slumped. Grandma Ruby's face was beetroot red. She hadn't had her warfarin tablets and there was no more drinking water. I bit my lip. Who knew when any other means of transport would arrive? I nodded to the driver and helped Grandma Ruby and Leroy into the van, which was half filled with boxes. I put our bags and Flambeau's box in before climbing in myself. The driver slammed the door shut and we sat in the gloom as he turned on the engine and drove away. I stared at the back of the driver's head through the safety grille with no idea if we were being transported by a selfless citizen trying to help out or whether I'd just placed us all in the clutches of a serial killer.

After a short and bumpy ride, the driver brought the van to a halt and opened the rear door. ‘This is as far as I can take you,' he said. ‘If you keep walking up ahead you'll get to the Superdome. They've got food and water there. Good luck!'

I thanked him, ashamed I'd doubted his motives, and glanced at Leroy. I knew he had not wanted to go to the Superdome. But he only shrugged. There were no other options.

I linked my arm with Grandma Ruby's and guided her towards the Superdome, while Leroy carried our bags and Flambeau's box. We were walking up the steps when a young black man wearing only shorts and running shoes stopped me.

‘You don't want to take elderly folk in there,' he warned. ‘They're better off out here in the open. The electricity's off
so there's no air conditioning and the toilets are backed up. It stinks worse than a sewage pit. Knife fights have been breaking out all morning and somebody committed suicide by leaping from a balcony.'

I recoiled. Suicide? Knife fights? This couldn't be real! We found a place on the dome's patio instead, with thousands of other tired, dirty and bedraggled people who had gathered there, most of them black. It looked like a scene from a refugee camp in a Third World country. Babies without clean nappies were sitting in their own filth, their parents looking lost and vacant-eyed. There was garbage everywhere. And that smell! I looked around and saw a corpse lying on the walkway, covered with a blanket. A curtain came down in my mind, closing out the horror around me. If I started to think of the implications of so many people gathered in such desperate circumstances with no rescue in sight, I would shut down. I couldn't afford to shut down. ‘I'll go find us some water,' I told Leroy.

I'd only walked a short way when I saw a television crew arriving, with a young reporter. As she began speaking to camera, a woman with braided hair yelled at her, ‘How'd you get here before the government? There's no water! No food! Old people and babies are dying!' She pointed to the covered corpse on the walkway. ‘That woman over there had an oxygen tank but it ran out on her. She died where she sat. Ain't nobody come to collect her and she died yesterday!'

The cameraman moved to film the corpse, but then the woman who'd been shouting spotted me. She grabbed me by the arm and dragged me over to stand next to a white couple.

‘Film the white people!' she screamed at the cameraman. ‘Film the white people! You keep filming us black folks and nobody ain't ever going to come!'

The news reporter was about to ask me something, but a black man with a crying child in his arms rushed towards her and took her microphone. ‘The National Guard brought
enough food and water for the first couple of days, but now more and more people are coming and it isn't enough! Tell me, how can the government of the United States get to Iraq in a matter of hours and they can't even come to New Orleans to give their own citizens food and water? Is it because we're poor? Is it because we're black? Is it because we're the wrong voting demographic? We are goddamn citizens of this country! I've been paying taxes for years! Where is my government now?' The man broke down into sobs.

He'd articulated the desperate situation perfectly. Why
were
these people still here three days after the storm? And without enough food and water?

The reporter and cameraman moved on, and the white couple introduced themselves to me as Matty and Dave from Melbourne. I couldn't believe they were Australian.

‘We haven't slept a wink,' Dave told me. ‘Everyone keeps glaring at us like we're personally responsible for President Bush not doing anything. But we're suffering too.'

‘How did you end up here?' I asked them.

Matty's shoulders stiffened. ‘On Sunday morning the staff at our hotel said we had to get out. We went to the airport, but all the flights were cancelled. Then we tried the Greyhound terminal and the train station, but they'd closed too. We had no way out! We called the Australian embassy and they told us to come here. At first it was mainly homeless people, poor families and a whole bunch of backpackers who'd had no idea a storm was coming. It was all civil at first, but now that the conditions are deteriorating, fights are breaking out. One of the guards told me there are over twenty thousand people here.'