stopped and looked up. âYou got me confused with somebody else. Iâm with the New Orleans Police Department. Weâre not in charge here.â
âItâs your city.â
âYeah, well, our city is underwater right nowâabout 70 percent of it, from what Iâve been able to piece together.â
âDonât you know?â
âThe powerâs off; the phones are out; even the cell towers are down. Weâre completely cut off. The only way we can talk is by radio, and every emergency service in the city has to share one frequency. You canât get a word in edgewise, so I just listen in and try to figure out whatâs going onâas long as the batteries hold out, that is.â
âWhat have you heard?â
âDo you know the city?â
Nick shook his head. âWeâre from out of town.â
The officer pointed up the road. âYou came across the St. Claude Avenue Bridge. It crosses the Industrial Canalâthatâs a shipping channel that connects Lake Pontchartrain with the Mississippi. There are neighborhoods all along the canal, and there are concrete levees on both sides to keep the water out.â
âTheyâre not doing a very good job.â
âNobody counted on this much water; the levees gave way sometime yesterday. The storm came in about 6:00 a.m. By 9:00 a.m. there was eight feet of water hereâten over there in St. Bernard Parish. The levees on the Seventeenth Street Canal failed too; thatâs flooding the rest of the city, from what I hear. I came out here yesterday as soon as the storm passed, but the wind was still pretty rough. I only had a few hours before dark, but I started pulling people out of trees and such.â
âYou were the only one out here?â
âMe and a couple of locals.â
Nick paused. âThere must be some kind of plan.â
âLookânobody can call in and nobody can get to the station, so NOPD has no way to coordinate efforts. FEMA, the National Guardâtheyâve all got the same problem we do: Communication is out, the roads are blocked, thereâs no infrastructure. The only reason Iâm here is because my house didnât floodânot yet, anyway. I just grabbed a boat and headed overâI know this neighborhood like the back of my hand. There are fifty-six hundred homes in the Lower Nine, and the water came up fastâno telling how many are trapped here. There are folks on rooftops, folks in atticsââ
Nick looked across the neighborhood at the low-pitched rooftops, their attics vented by only a few narrow rows of slats at each end. It was August in New Orleans, with the temperature over ninety degrees and humidity to match; by afternoon the attics would be little more than slow-cookers.
âHow can we help?â Nick asked.
The officer looked over Nickâs shoulder at the empty road behind him. âYou boys got a boat?â
Nick turned and looked, too, as if he somehow expected a cabin cruiser to have magically materialized behind him.
âHow did you figure youâd help without a boat?â
âI guess we figured you guys would have boats.â
âYou donât say.â
âWhereâd you get yours?â Jerry asked.
âNOPD has seven. I grabbed one; the rest are all out.â
âThatâs not a lot of boats for a whole city.â
âI hear the Guard has more.â
âWhere are they?â
âThey canât get to themâtheyâre surrounded by water.â
âImagine that,â Nick said under his breath. âNo offense, but . . . didnât you people ever think about this possibility? I mean, if you live in a bathtub, sooner or later youâre going to get wet.â
Plan ahead ,â the officer said. âThanks for the advice. Hereâs some âadvice for you boys: Next time, bring a boat.â
âWhere can we get one?â
âWhy donât