by Jenni Ogden
“So soon?”
“They’re predicting it will have passed over by late Monday, but we shall see.” Stork’s beeper went and he pulled it out. “I’ve got to go, Georgia, but it’s fantastic to see you. You picked the right place at the wrong time for your visit. It’s a pity it couldn’t have been under better circumstances; we could have taken in some good music.”
I hesitated, and then spoke quietly. “Actually, I’ve been taking time off from surgery for the last few weeks. I had a bit of an overload meltdown. That’s why I was shunted off here for the neurosurgeons’ training meeting. Our director figured I couldn’t do any damage sitting in a seminar room. But I’m still licensed in the UK as well as Massachusetts, and OK to do everything but neurosurgery.”
Stork looked taken aback. “Gosh, that’s rough. You always did work too bloody hard, and it’s a tough specialization.”
“It’s been difficult, especially for Adam and the kids.”
“I bet. But are you feeling any better?”
“My problem is understanding why it happened, and I think I’m getting a bit closer to that.”
“I’m sure you’ll get the better of it,” said Stork. “Once Katrina’s done her thing, if I can do anything to help I’d be happy to.”
“Thanks. If we get a chance I wouldn’t mind talking about it with you. It’s too hard with the guys I work with in London.”
“I can imagine. If we do need some non-surgical help, are you sure you’re up for that?”
“Absolutely. I’m certain I can handle it; in fact I’d really like to help out. It seems wrong to sit on my backside. If I found it was too much for me, I’d tell you.”
The wind and rain were picking up as I returned to the hotel with a bag of emergency supplies. Lara was back in our room, glued to the TV again. We located Marcie and we all had a rushed dinner in the packed hotel restaurant. By seven that night an early dusk had fallen over the city, now in the grip of howling winds and rain as Katrina edged closer.
There was no escaping the relentless weather updates from the TV monitors throughout the hotel. But by the time we returned to our room to phone Adam, getting him out of bed, I had some better news to report; Katrina’s sustained winds had weakened slightly and the storm surge was now eighteen, not twenty feet. She was predicted to make landfall before sunrise as a Category 4 storm.
I did my best to keep my conversation with Adam light by telling him about Stork and his family, but we soon ran out of optimistic conversation, especially as we had to struggle to hear each other across the crackling line. After Lara’s turn, she handed the phone back to me and I promised to call again as soon as we woke. Poor Adam, it was worse for him than us. He’d be too tense and fearful to sleep well tonight.
Peering through the window, in the watery streetlights I could just make out the trees below, bending double as gusts hit them. As instructed by the hotel staff, we pushed our beds as far away from the window as they would go without completely blocking the door to the en suite. As I was closing the curtains against the threat of breaking glass I heard a loud explosion, and saw a sheet of flame shooting into the air somewhere below. At the same time the room and the world outside was plunged into darkness. New Orleans—well this area anyway—had already lost its power, and the eye of the storm was still hours away.
Fumbling my way to the bedside table, I retrieved my head torch. Lara had just found hers and I sat beside her on her bed as the whole building shook every time a screeching gust of wind caught it. At least we’re not on the top floor. The room was already heating up without the air conditioning, so we had cold showers by the wavering light of our torches and collapsed on our beds, uncovered and sweating, and a little bit scared.
Chapter 16
In spite of the whistling, roaring elements I fell into a fitful sleep, waking with a jolt in the pitch black as an explosion rocked the building. Scrabbling for my head torch I scanned the room, heart still in my mouth.
“What is it?” I heard Lara say.
Then I noticed the curtains billowing and moved cautiously to the window, my feet squelching on wet carpet. Pulling the curtains aside, I peered out. I felt a draught and my head torch glistened off streaks of water seeping in the edges and running down the window as the wall of rain thundered into it. The glass was pumping in and out like a live thing, and the windowsill was swimming. Lara grabbed my arm and I moved a little so she could look out too. Through the streaming rain I could see a multistory building lit up by flames engulfing it from below. But the Park Plaza was in darkness as I looked down and then up at the floors above me.
Praying that the window wouldn’t shatter, we went back to bed. Lara turned on her stomach and squashed a pillow over her head, and I followed her example. And there we lay, hour after hour, trying to muffle the phenomenal noise of the hurricane as it ripped New Orleans asunder. With every almighty crash my heart rate accelerated and I held my breath, prepared to flee to the corridor if the window shattered or the wall collapsed. At last the room began to lighten, and creeping gingerly over to the window I peered down through the wind-blown rain. Was I still asleep and dreaming; perhaps I was in a boat?
Below me, surging along the wide avenue that yesterday had been Canal Street, a river of swirling water was pushed along by howling winds. I flinched as great chunks of wood, sheet iron, and heavy branches from trees fired through the air and crashed against buildings. Cars lay on their sides and even upside down, and power poles spewed at crazy angles across the flooded street, deadly looking power lines whipping in the wind and floating on the water. I looked over at Lara’s bed. Her pillow had slipped off her head and she was lying on her back, fast asleep.
As the light strengthened, I gazed transfixed at the surreal scene outside. Through the gusts of rain I saw something crawling through the water and with horror realized it was a man struggling towards the hotel, grabbing whatever he could to steady himself as the wind threatened to blow him away. I picked up the hotel phone; surely they would send someone out to rescue the poor fellow? But the phone was dead. By the time I discovered my mobile was dead as well, the man had vanished.
“What’s it like out there now?” Lara was sitting up, her eyes bleary.
“Terrible. The wind is wild and the road below is like a river. I think we should go down to the lobby and see if they have any idea how long it’s going to last.” I was pulling on my jeans and sneakers, and as soon as Lara was dressed I grabbed our door key card and with our head torches on we went out into the unlit corridor, joining a stream of people all pushing down the stairs to the lobby. Some were silent, others talked excitedly, and a few were crying hysterically. Already the lobby was full of people sliding and sloshing through water flooding across the floor. At the reception desk, harassed staff members were answering a barrage of questions, seemingly with no more idea of what to do than their guests.
Then a man in a security uniform jumped on the counter and shouted for silence. He finally managed to get the frightened crowd’s attention. “There’s no need to panic.” He patted the air in front of him, using gestures that suggested anything but calm. “This is superficial flooding from the torrential rains, and now that the rain is easing off, the waters will dissipate quickly.”
“Bullshit,” a male voice shouted. “The fucking water’s still pouring in. We should be getting outta here fast.” His voice was joined by others, and the security guard waved his arms even more, his face red as he tried to make himself heard.
“The streets outside are flooded and you leave at your own risk. Once the winds have dropped, if you want to leave you can wade to the Superdome. The water is only a foot or two deep in most places. There’ll be food and shelter there. In the meantime we’ll be handing out cold food and drinks in the restaurant on the next floor. We have no electricity, and there are no working elevators.”
“I’m fucking leaving now,” shouted the same male voice.
“If you leave you won’t be permitted
back, as we can’t cope with the numbers of people we already have. We’ll do our best to ensure everyone’s safety, but we can’t guarantee it. Those of you who stay should remain in your rooms, if you can, to keep the stairwells clear.” He pushed his cap off and wiped a hand across his forehead. Even from where I stood on the other side of the lobby, I could see the sweat pouring off his face. The only human sound now was the whimpering of a child; even loudmouth seemed to have got the message. Then a massive explosion rent the air, coming from outside somewhere.
“We’re all going to die,” a woman screamed. Others took up her frenzied cries as the crowd dissolved into chaos. Some people pushed back towards the stairwells; the remainder struggled towards the door to the street.
The security officer was shouting again. “No one is going to die. Please remain calm. Please remain calm.”
The screams and cries abated, but the crowd was anything but calm. I heard my name and turned quickly. Marcie was making her way over to us, her children in tow.
“Georgia, thank goodness. I hoped you’d be down here. Are you all right?” Her blue eyes fastened on mine.
“We’re fine. Had a wonderful sleep. How about you guys?”
“We’re OK. I missed Stork though. He’d have sat on these two,” Marcie said.
Lara was grinning at Marcie’s children, who looked more excited than scared.
“Jamie, stop that.” Marcie frowned at her son, who was jumping up and down, laughing as he splashed his sister.
“Yes, menace, stop it.” Isabelle stamped her own foot down, spraying her mother and Lara as well as Jamie.
“Why don’t we see if we can get any of this cold food they’re supplying, before it’s all gone?” I suggested, pushing away the sudden sharp longing to see—and touch—Finnie and Adam.
Marcie nodded. “That’s what we need, gang. Stick close, or we’ll get separated.” She herded Isabelle and Jamie in front of her, and we all made for the back of the queue already forming at the bottom of the stairs.
“Is there a doctor here? We need a doctor, quickly.” The frightened voice rose above the noise of the crowd, and I looked around and saw a man at the other side of the lobby waving an arm high in the air. I glanced at Marcie.
“I’d better see if I can help. You guys go and get some food. Lara, can you go with them? Grab me a bread roll or something. I’ll find you later; if I don’t, I’ll see you back in our room.” I was moving away as I spoke, hoping another doctor would be there before me. Damn, I seem to be the only one. The hotel was full of doctors’ families, but presumably the doctors themselves were all manning the hospitals.
I squatted beside a woman half-sitting, half-lying, in the water sloshing on the floor. There was a greenish tinge on her dark, clammy skin and naked fear on her face as she tried frantically to take in another shallow breath. “What happened?” I asked the man who had called for help, and was now kneeling beside me.
“She’s having a heart attack.” He glanced around at the people closing in to get a better look. “Quickly, please, someone call an ambulance,” he yelled, his voice hoarse.
My own pulse escalating, I focused on the woman’s perspiring face. Poor thing. I know exactly how you’re feeling. I took her firmly by the shoulders and concentrated on speaking calmly. “You’re not having a heart attack. You just feel like you are because your breathing is too fast and shallow. Look at me and try to breathe as slowly as I am.” I pressed my hand firmly against the woman’s upper chest above her large palpitating bosom as I tried to sooth her, and called to the curious crowd, “Has anyone got a paper bag?”
A bag was thrust into my hand and I upturned it to get rid of a few pastry crumbs. I held it over the woman’s mouth and nose. “Breathe in and out of this; that will stop your panicky feelings.”
The woman grasped the bag with both hands, her brown eyes wide and terrified as they stared into mine. Her breathing slowed, her shoulders seemed to soften, and then her large frame began to shake, the soft rolls on her arms quivering and her lower legs, protruding from cut-off jeans, jittering up and down in the water. I gestured to the man beside me to help get the woman into a chair. “Are you her husband?”
“Yes, Ma’am, I am.” His hoarse voice had a quaver in it now. “Thank our Lord you were here. She would have died...”
“No, she was in no danger of dying. She began to breathe too fast and that’s what caused those dreadful feelings of panic. It truly feels as if you might die, but no one ever does.”
Her husband seemed confused. “But she had terrible pains in her chest.”
“Yes, that’s common, and one of the reasons it makes people think they’re having a heart attack.”
“Will it happen again?”
“I don’t know. It might do. If it hasn’t happened before, it was probably a result of being in this frightening situation. She became very anxious and started to breathe quickly, and before she realized it she was hyperventilating. Just in case, keep a paper bag with you, and if it happens again get her to breathe into that; it’ll bring her oxygen levels back to normal.”
“Thank you, Miss.” The woman’s voice was a whisper. “I’m sorry for giving you trouble.”
I smiled at her. Her skin looked much better, and her trembling was now only perceptible in her hands. “You’ve had a frightening experience. Believe me, it can happen to anyone, and it’s good to know how to deal with it when it does.” I turned to a hotel official standing anxiously beside us. “I don’t suppose there’s any hope of hot tea?”
“No, I don’t think so. But I’ll make sure she has somewhere quiet to lie down. Thank you, doctor—you are a doctor?”
“Yes, I am, just visiting from England.”
“I’m the floor manager. We’re grateful to you, doctor. Perhaps you could give me your name and room number in case we need you again.”
“Of course.” I returned his clammy handshake. “But you should see if there’s a local doctor here. I can’t do much being out of state.”
“I realize that, but if there’s no one else available...” The manager’s voice tailed off. I could almost see the desperate thoughts flitting through his head as he viewed the disaster scene that, only yesterday, had been his elegant lobby. “At least the worst is over, and we haven’t been obliterated by Katrina. This water should soon be gone, and then we can begin the big cleanup.” The manager’s raw sigh broke the hush that had overtaken the small group of people still crowding us. He raised his voice. “OK folks, the show’s over. Let’s clear the way so we can get this lady and her husband to a room upstairs.”
I followed the crowds to the dining room and by some fluke found Lara quickly; her red hair stood out like a beacon. As the day wore on and the wind dropped, the atmosphere in the crowded hotel became almost jolly as the residents of N’Orleans realized they had survived the mother of all hurricanes. I shuddered as I looked around at the many families—from their dress and accents probably poor—who had taken shelter in the hotel. What will you find when you return to your homes? What were the chances of their houses standing against winds that had lifted the roof of the Superdome? —This gem had spread like wildfire through the crowds.
Back in our bedroom, we looked out on a blue sky, and below we could see the water rapidly clearing from the higher parts of the streets. People even wandered about, inspecting the chaos wrought by the winds. Marcie and the kids appeared; they’d decided to take a walk to Memorial and see how Stork had survived the night.
“Let’s go with them,” Lara begged, and I took no convincing. No doubt thinking a doctor might be useful to keep around, the floor manager readily agreed that we could all leave and return to the hotel later.
Amazingly, the wind had dropped to a pleasant, if stiff, breeze, and the water was rapidly receding from the streets. Houses with broken windows and missing roofs stood forlorn in their torn gardens, and the façade of one two-story house had been ripped off, exposing like a doll’s house staircases and
rooms, some still with furniture. Cars had been flattened under falling trees or blown into crazy positions across the roads. At one point we narrowly escaped a geyser of water that shot from a manhole, ten feet or more into the air. But the street outside Memorial Hospital was almost dry, although from the debris piled up next to the sidewalk it had obviously been flooded earlier.
Entering the Clara Street lobby, we were swallowed by a mass of people. Some appeared to be leaving and others had settled in groups on the floor or on chairs, surrounded by precious belongings, including the occasional rabbit or cat in a cage. The mood was generally upbeat, and plenty of laughter could be heard. One group sang hymns, accompanied by a woman with a guitar. Areas were roped off where large windows had blown out. Some had makeshift boarding over them, but others were still open to the elements.
Narrowly avoiding standing on a crawling baby, we made it to the information desk where two men in porter uniforms were struggling to deal with the muddle of people coming and going. Neither of them knew who Stork was, let alone where he might be, so Marcie disappeared up the nearest stairs on a mission to find him. Thirty minutes later she was back, Stork with her. He looked ten years older than he had yesterday—the bags under his bloodshot eyes not helping—but he grinned at Lara and me over Jamie’s tousled head.
“Hi, Georgia. Thanks for looking after this lot. And a wild guess here, but I’ve got money on your name being Lara?” Stork’s eyebrows rose.
“I am. Mum’s told me all about you.”
“Hmm. Well, I could tell you a thing or two about your mum.”
“How was it here last night?” I asked.
“Pretty bloody scary, actually. We’ve got lots of windows out and roofs off, and we’ve had rain pouring in everywhere. We lost all power early on, so it’s been a nightmare managing the ICU patients. The generators are coping with all the essential services, but only just. Only two of the elevators are working and the phones—mobiles too—are out. And on top of all that the place is full to the brim with evacuees. Most of them ended up in the corridors last night because so many windows were blown out. Heaven knows how the kitchen is feeding them all.”
