Previously: While paddling a boat that my three friends and I found in the driveway of an evacuated house, we saw another friend, Calio, screaming for help: his girlfriend, Keisha, was in labor. The flooding was so high and brutal that there was no way to get her out of the house. So we fought waves to get tools and a ladder into the living room from a shed out back. While Keis screamed and writhed, we pounded at the ceiling until, finally, we broke through and saw the sky. Callio climbed the ladder and poked his head and arms above the roof. He waved a white sheet as we held tight to the ladder and prayed for help to come…
While Calio was trying to wave down a helicopter, the others held the ladder for him. Keisha continued to howl on the sofa, and I took some food upstairs to Keisha’s two boys, who were eight and twelve.
The military had been dropping boxes containing food and water. The supplies fell with big splashes and then floated on the floodwater. Inside the boxes we found hot meals of Salisbury steak, peas, mashed potatoes, meatballs and spaghetti as well as Snickers.
The boys were huddled together on the bed they shared, looking all wide-eyed. They asked me, “What’s happening?”
“The water gonna come in here?”
“Mama gonna be okay?”
I tried to reassure them, “Mama be fine. Soon y’all have a new baby.”
Like the rest of us, they relieved themselves in a bucket, which we emptied into plastic bags.
After about forty minutes of wondering whether help would ever come, we heard loud whirring that sounded like a helicopter circling right above the house. And then we heard Calio talking to someone.
I yelled up to him, “Calio, who you talkin’ to?”
He said he’d gotten a helicopter’s attention, and I was like, “For real?”
He said, “Yeah!”
“Tell them to come down quick!” I called.
We heard the brrrrrm of the helicopter getting louder, drawing closer; it felt like it was motorizing the whole house. Calio came down the ladder, and I asked, “Man, what’s happening?”
He told us, “The helicopter man say move our ladder. They gonna get in here. Now!”
We looked up and saw the guy stepping down a wiggly ladder that was attached to the helicopter, which was hovering above the roof and making the floor vibrate even worse.
Three more guys came down. One asked, “Man, why didn’t she leave?”
They told Keisha to stay calm, to open her legs, to breathe. She was screaming and crying. I could hardly watch.
Next we knew, a slimy infant was oozing out between her legs. A medic stroked the little body, and a squeaky whaaa whaaa came from it’s tiny mouth.
It’s hard to say—was it an hour later? Two hours later? They put the baby in a sack—like a duffle bag—and hauled it up their ladder and through the roof. One of the guys wrapped Keisha in a big sling and towed her up next to be with her new son and escape the nightmare below.
Calio stayed with us. We tried to get him to go. The helicopter man asked him, “You sure you don’t want to come?”
He answered, “I’m just gonna stay. I know you gonna look after my family.” They had already taken Keisha’s other two sons up in sacks, and they offered to take the rest of us. But I replied, “No can do buddy.”
I still wasn’t believing it. I couldn’t imagine the storm getting any more intense, even though the helicopter man said, “I don’t know why y’all staying here. It’s getting worse. It’s sitting in the gulf—ten hours from now it’s gonna hit. I’m telling y’all, get outta here!”
I said, “If it do hit, I know how to survive it. I survived this far. I’m not leaving my hometown.” I thought I was a smartie.
By the time I realized I should have listened, it was too late.
(to be continued)
