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Authors: Tony Dunbar
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side of Claiborne,” he pointed toward the lake, “and I’ll go on this side of Claiborne. Anybody you can rescue goes down to the Superdome.”
“Right,” Tubby said. “You got any food?”
“Here’s some water. There should be food at the Superdome.” He tossed one bottle, then another, into the air, and Officer Jones caught them. The policeman opened one for himself and handed the other to his oarsman.
“Later,” the flood warrior said, and shot away.
“I guess we can look around Jefferson Avenue,” Tubby suggested.
“My house is by the Rendon Inn,” Officer Jones said.
“You want to go by your house?”
“Yeah, let’s go there first.”
“Suits me.” Tubby headed to Jefferson Avenue and made his left.
“This is really bad,” he said. All the houses in this section were flooded. The water reached half-way up the windows on the first floor. Luggage racks protruded above the surface where SUVs were parked. “What a mess,” he said in awe.
Officer Jones just grunted. They didn’t see anyone needing rescue, though they spotted a couple of rafts in the distance when they crossed Fountainbleu.
“They may be looters,” Tubby suggested.
Officer Jones just grunted again. A palm tree felled across the street was creating a dam and a small waterfall. Tubby edged through a lawn to get onto Jefferson Davis Parkway. Everything here was wrecked.
“These were nice homes,” Tubby said aloud, talking to himself since Officer Jones didn’t seem to want to communicate. There was a man in a second floor window, and Tubby waved at him. The man gestured with a rifle, and Tubby waved good-bye.
“Rendon Inn, coming up.”
“I live on Eden, up on the right,” Jones informed him.
“Tell me when.”
“When,” Officer Jones said after they had gone another block. Tubby throttled back. Officer Jones stared at the roof of a brick ranch-style house. “Get me over there,” he ordered.
Tubby steered the Lost Lady to the roof, worried about hidden vehicles, bird baths, and telephone lines
Officer Jones leapt to the asphalt shingles while Tubby tried to keep the boat from capsizing. Like a crab he ascended to the top of the dry roof and grasped the bright, silver attic ventilator. Giving it a bear hug and emitting a howl he twisted it off and threw it aside. Tubby saw him stick his head into the hole, then come back up.
“You got an axe?” Jones bellowed.
Tubby shook his head, no. He watched the officer begin kicking the roof with his heavy boots. Kicking and kicking until he had the hole big enough so that he could lay flat on the black shingles and put his shoulders through. Tubby tried to find a place to tie the boat off so he could help, but the roof sloped down beneath the water. Before he could sort out the problem Officer Jones had extracted a baby wearing blue pajamas. He scooted down the roof and handed the infant to Tubby, who tried very hard not to drop it while rocking back and forth. The policeman went up again and began cajoling, almost in a sing-song, and ultimately bringing a squirming woman out of the hole. She was wearing a flowery nightgown over a pair of ripped blue jeans. She planted herself on the crown of the roof, and Jones tried to get her to stand up. The woman was having nothing of that. Arms crossed tightly over her breasts, she prayed loudly but allowed herself to be pulled in a sitting position down the roof to the boat. At a loss, Tubby secured the baby in his ice chest and lent a hand to get the woman get on board. Officer Jones almost tilted them over when he jumped in. Tubby sat the woman down, and Jones put his arms around her. The ice chest with the baby was right behind them. The kid stuck its head up and cried.
“Go! go!” Jones commanded. The policeman was upset. The woman was in shock.
“The Superdome?” Tubby asked.
“Just go, now!”
Tubby got behind the wheel and away they went. As he passed the Blue Plate Mayonnaise factory, he saw an island much
“Right,” Tubby said. “You got any food?”
“Here’s some water. There should be food at the Superdome.” He tossed one bottle, then another, into the air, and Officer Jones caught them. The policeman opened one for himself and handed the other to his oarsman.
“Later,” the flood warrior said, and shot away.
“I guess we can look around Jefferson Avenue,” Tubby suggested.
“My house is by the Rendon Inn,” Officer Jones said.
“You want to go by your house?”
“Yeah, let’s go there first.”
“Suits me.” Tubby headed to Jefferson Avenue and made his left.
“This is really bad,” he said. All the houses in this section were flooded. The water reached half-way up the windows on the first floor. Luggage racks protruded above the surface where SUVs were parked. “What a mess,” he said in awe.
Officer Jones just grunted. They didn’t see anyone needing rescue, though they spotted a couple of rafts in the distance when they crossed Fountainbleu.
“They may be looters,” Tubby suggested.
Officer Jones just grunted again. A palm tree felled across the street was creating a dam and a small waterfall. Tubby edged through a lawn to get onto Jefferson Davis Parkway. Everything here was wrecked.
“These were nice homes,” Tubby said aloud, talking to himself since Officer Jones didn’t seem to want to communicate. There was a man in a second floor window, and Tubby waved at him. The man gestured with a rifle, and Tubby waved good-bye.
“Rendon Inn, coming up.”
“I live on Eden, up on the right,” Jones informed him.
“Tell me when.”
“When,” Officer Jones said after they had gone another block. Tubby throttled back. Officer Jones stared at the roof of a brick ranch-style house. “Get me over there,” he ordered.
Tubby steered the Lost Lady to the roof, worried about hidden vehicles, bird baths, and telephone lines
Officer Jones leapt to the asphalt shingles while Tubby tried to keep the boat from capsizing. Like a crab he ascended to the top of the dry roof and grasped the bright, silver attic ventilator. Giving it a bear hug and emitting a howl he twisted it off and threw it aside. Tubby saw him stick his head into the hole, then come back up.
“You got an axe?” Jones bellowed.
Tubby shook his head, no. He watched the officer begin kicking the roof with his heavy boots. Kicking and kicking until he had the hole big enough so that he could lay flat on the black shingles and put his shoulders through. Tubby tried to find a place to tie the boat off so he could help, but the roof sloped down beneath the water. Before he could sort out the problem Officer Jones had extracted a baby wearing blue pajamas. He scooted down the roof and handed the infant to Tubby, who tried very hard not to drop it while rocking back and forth. The policeman went up again and began cajoling, almost in a sing-song, and ultimately bringing a squirming woman out of the hole. She was wearing a flowery nightgown over a pair of ripped blue jeans. She planted herself on the crown of the roof, and Jones tried to get her to stand up. The woman was having nothing of that. Arms crossed tightly over her breasts, she prayed loudly but allowed herself to be pulled in a sitting position down the roof to the boat. At a loss, Tubby secured the baby in his ice chest and lent a hand to get the woman get on board. Officer Jones almost tilted them over when he jumped in. Tubby sat the woman down, and Jones put his arms around her. The ice chest with the baby was right behind them. The kid stuck its head up and cried.
“Go! go!” Jones commanded. The policeman was upset. The woman was in shock.
“The Superdome?” Tubby asked.
“Just go, now!”
Tubby got behind the wheel and away they went. As he passed the Blue Plate Mayonnaise factory, he saw an island much
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