“What's up?” he said. “What can I do for you, officers?”
“Sorry, Mook. You guys have to evacuate. This rain is supposed to come down hard, and you guys could get trapped down here if a flash flood comes through. You've got to move to one of the shelters.”
“I'll just go to my mom's.”
“That's okay. What about Elda?”
“Her too.”
“Okay. The rest of your bunch can go to University Baptist. They're opening up their basement.”
Lorelei slipped away as they were talking.
“Miss, Miss, come back here, please.” One of the officers caught her up by her arm. She winced at his touch, her arm still sensitive. He let go. “Miss, I need to see some identification.”
“I have a friend I can go stay with,” she said. “But she lives over in Bouldin Creek. If I'm going to make it, I've got to go. Can I go?”
“Bouldin Creek's being evacuated too.”
“Then I'd better hurry. She won't leave without me.”
She could see him calculating her age. She also knew he had a job to do today, and running her through the system would take a long time. All she needed was a persuasive argument.
“I swear,” she said. “She's like a sister to me. Family friend.” Then for good measure she added, “She lets me stay with her all the time. I even know where her keys are.”
“She's telling the truth,” Mook said. “She can call her.” He held up a trac phone.
Lorelei knew there were no minutes on that phone. Lots of kids had phones, but they never had minutes.
“What do you think?” the first officer asked.
The other uniform shrugged. “Long as she's nowhere around here.”
Lorelei made a show of gathering her things.
“We'll be back to make sure you guys are out of here.” They walked deeper into the wooded area of the park.
“Man, first they tell us we're a hazard with our campfire,” Minion said. “Now they're telling us we're going to get washed away. What a bunch of crap.”
Mook and Elda slung packs over their shoulders and headed out. They didn't bother to take their tarp or any of the chairs or water jugs.
“Hey, can we go with you?” Freestyle asked. There was a certain pleading tone to his voice that was embarrassing. The street was no place for crybabies.
“Look, dude. My old lady's been really sick. She can't have a bunch of assholes sitting around eating her food and blasting her television all day. You should go on to the shelter.”
“Fuck that, man,” Freestyle said.
Mook shrugged. He and Elda walked away.
Lorelei didn't bother to ask to go with them. She'd never been invited. She sat under her tarp, neatly packing her things. She didn't rush. She had nowhere to go.
Minion and Freestyle trudged off, heads down like two soggy soldiers. Minion's guitar was wrapped in two bright-green garbage bags. She didn't ask where they were going. She had a hunch they wouldn't go far, only to one of the round drug hole culverts where they smoked whatever they had managed to get their hands on that day. They might even try to walk to their drug dealer's, where they could hang out and use. She'd gone with them once and she had no desire to return.
Lorelei sat under her makeshift tarp wondering what she should do. Yesterday, when she stopped at a newspaper stand to check what day it was, a headline had screamed, “Gordon Expected to Slam Coastline.” She'd tried to read the article through the scratched plastic door. A tropical storm had turned into a coast ripper hurricane. She figured this weather was leftovers.
Lorelei dreaded trudging up the hill to the drop-in. The storm began to pick up force and she quickly decided the drop-in was too far away. Her tarp sagged with water weight. She had to move. The only sturdy shelter she knew of nearby was a covered picnic area. She pulled the tarp over her head and took off that way.
Under the picnic shelter, dozens of others were crowded together atop scarred wooden tables. The downpour had arrived, pounding the metal roof of the shelter. It was impossible to hold a conversation. The sodden figures huddled like animals.
Perched on a table, Lorelei watched Shoal Creek. In only minutes, it had gone from a trickle to a full creek bed. Water pushed again the banks, then rushed their direction like tentacles reaching for prey. Lorelei thought of Minion and Freestyle. They couldn't possibly be in the culvert.
The dry, hard-packed land refused to absorb the torrent thrust upon it. As Lorelei watched, deep pools formed in low-lying spots, then merged. Water rose in the swollen creek until there were no boundaries. Creek water rushed into the shelter and under picnic tables. Trash and debris swirled beneath them.
“Oh my God!” a girl said.
“Let's get out of here,” someone on a far table shouted.
Lorelei watched a group wade toward the road, their packs on their heads like refugees. Lorelei held her position, watching to see how the others fared. It would take another couple of feet before the water reached the top of the table. She doubted it would rise that high.
The deluge reminded her of the story of the great flood and Noah's Ark. That flood had taken forty days and forty nights to cover the earth, but this storm had taken only forty minutes to invade everything.
Two girls stepped off of her table to make their getaway. The table lifted slightly under Lorelei. One girl fell and washed yards away where she caught hold of a Frisbee golf pole. She grappled with the mesh basket, trying to hook an arm through the chains. The current pinned her friend against a bricked barbecue grill. Neither girl could move. A boy waded into the brown, churning water to attempt a rescue. He fought to keep his footing. Lorelei didn't wait to see the outcome of his heroic efforts. She jumped from table to table until she was close as possible to the bank.
She stepped into the chilly current. The rain grew harder, pelting her face. Rising water moved like a predatory animal through the trees, but Lorelei could read the flow. She had kayaked enough at camp to recognize dangerous spots. She laboriously picked her way up the hillside toward the road.
By the time she reached the park's edge she was frantic. The violent sky puked its guts into her mouth and eyes. Several times, she clawed her way up an embankment only to slide down into the greasy mud at the bottom again. Finally, she stumbled up and onto the side of the road. She waved her arms against oncoming headlights. Cars rushed by, pounding sheets of water onto her.
“Stop!” she screamed. “Please, stop! Please, stop!”
Over and over, sheets of water pummeled her until she thought she would dissolve in her boots. She shivered. Her teeth snapped. Her weakness made her angry. Against her resolve she began to cry out.
“Stop! Please, stop!” She fell to her knees, exhausted.
Then, like a ship from outer space, bright lights cut through the rain and illuminated her. A van crawled to a stop along the road shoulder. A figure in a raincoat got out and came toward her.
“Can you walk?” the man yelled as he approached.
She grabbed his arm and tried to pull herself up, but her saturated pack was too heavy. He helped her to her feet and picked up her sleeping bag. She leaned against him. They made their way to the white panel van. He opened the sliding door. She crawled inside. There were no seats in the back, only neatly hung walls of tools.
Rain thrummed the shuddering van.
“Just sit on the floor.”
She collapsed and water squished out of her onto the thick rubber mats. The man slung her pack beside her. He climbed in and slammed the door shut behind them.
“Shit, girl,” he said. “What are you doing out in this storm?”
“I…because I…”
“Here.” He handed her a small towel. “It looks dirty, but my wife just washed it.”
Lorelei tried to wipe her face, but she was shaking too hard.
“Ccc…cold,” she stammered.
“Oh, right.” The man moved to the front of the van and turned the heater to full blast.
He came back to her and said, “Can you move up to the front seat or do you want to stay here? It'll be warmer up front.”
He helped her into the passenger seat. The warm air coming from the vents made pinpricks dance on her numb hands.
“You got somewhere you need to go?” he asked. “They're evacuating the city along the river. I'm on my way to get my wife and get out.”
“Can you take me to Bouldin Creek?” Lorelei asked. It was the only thing that made sense to her.
“Sure thing. That's right on my way,” the man said. “Let's just hope the bridges are still open.”
Emily
EMILY'S MOBILE rang much too early. She didn't answer. None of her friends would call so early. Next she heard her text alert. Her e-mail chimed in another room. Somebody really wanted her attention.
On voicemail, a somber sounding man warned Emily that she lived in a flood-prone area. She was advised to evacuate. The evacuation wasn't mandatory, but Emily knew enough about Austin's flood history that she wasn't going to risk it.
She made tea and checked the weather outside her front door. It was windy and pouring so hard that she was instantly covered in a fine mist from the blow. The flood in her street was deep enough for a small boat to navigate. That got her attention.
Emily had to move fast to get out of the city in her tiny car. Outbound lanes would be open, but bridges going downtown were always closed during flood warnings. Every year some yahoo tried to cross a closed bridge and ended up with his car swept away, usually while he was still in it.
Emily called her parents. Her father answered on the first ring.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
“I'm coming home. They're suggesting people evacuate the city.”
“Well, come on then. Your mother's making chili.”
Her mother came on. “Emily, you be careful in that little car.”
“I will.”
“And don't forget that rain slicker and those boots I got you.”
“Oh, yeah. Those. Okay. I'm packing now. I'll see you in about an hour.”
“Take some water and a few granola bars. You know, in case you get stranded or something.”
“Should I take a jar to pee in too?”
“Well, Miss Smarty. That might not be a bad idea.”
Emily grabbed the cat carrier out of the hall closet and set it by the back door. Skinny Cat wasn't on the front porch. He didn't come when she called. While she waited for him, Emily moved things to higher ground. Important papers and photo albums went in the top of a closet. She hoped her shelves were tall enough that her books wouldn't suffer.
She packed clothes, jewelry, laptop and camera equipment—anything looters would steal. In no time, Emily had a good-sized pile of duffle bags, backpacks and organic grocery bags filled with precious things.
She grabbed a flashlight and batteries. She stuffed a favorite pillow and a blanket into a garbage bag and threw it by the back door. Dressed in her raincoat and rubber boots, Emily tromped across the backyard to the MINI. It was only a short distance away, but it was hard to make out in the squall. Puddles were already six inches deep in places. Emily squeezed into her car, her slick coat squeaking against the seat. She backed up to the kitchen door where the awning covered the stoop to the cargo area of her car.
As she loaded the back of the MINI, she called and called for Skinny Cat. When the weather got rough he'd always come for an extended stay. Emily saw movement in the storm and waited for him to show. A phantom shape appeared at the edge of the road.
Emily watched a figure materialize, tall and lanky, in no hurry to get out of the drenching rain. As the person came closer she recognized the girl from the streets. How had she found her?
Tino had suspected somebody of making fires in Group's patio dish after he found six charred buttons. They had all figured it was Lorelei. And now it seemed she had followed Emily home at some point too.
The drenched figure walked with her head hung, braced against the downpour and wind. When the girl reached the back door, she stopped and stood in the rain.
“Lorelei?”
She turned her face up. She was pale, her lips waxy.
“What are you doing here?”
“All the shelters are full. I got nowhere else to go.”
Water dripped from her nose and trembling chin.
“Well, don't just stand there. Come inside.”
She left her wet things outside the door. Water dribbled off her onto the kitchen floor.
Her hair was plastered against her skull. Her skin was nearly colorless and the most prominent part of her was the swirl of inky tattoo that slashed the side of her face. She was otherworldly.
“I was just leaving,” Emily said.
“I got no place else.”
“Yeah, you said that. What about the shelter, the drop-in?”
“They're full.”
“What about the churches downtown? They almost always open up for extreme weather like this.”
Emily couldn't, absolutely wouldn't take this girl to her parents’ house. But she couldn't leave her here, either. It might become a danger zone. She couldn't put her back out in the rain.
“What do you want me to do?” Emily asked her.
“I'm cold.”
Emily's tea had gone forgotten in her haste. She stuck it in the microwave and thought about her options while she watched the mug on its slow rotation. The machine's merry ding was disconcerting. She handed Lorelei the mug.
The girl took an appreciative sip.
“Thank you.”
“I have to leave. They're evacuating the areas around the river.”
“I heard.”
Her mother always hated it when Emily brought Skinny Cat with her. She was going to flip out when she saw this stray.
“Let's go,” Emily said.
“What?”
“Get in the car. We're going to my parents’ house.”
“Can't I just stay here?”
“No. You can't. You can either come with me or you're on your own. I can't take you downtown. I'm sure all the neighborhood bridges are closed and probably the big ones are all outbound by now. We have to leave.”
Emily grabbed two garbage bags from under the sink.
“Here, sit on this. This one's for your pack and stuff. They're too wet just to throw in.”
Lorelei bagged her things and shoved them in among Emily's stuff. She spread the plastic bag on the passenger seat and climbed in. Emily took one last look around for Skinny Cat, but he was still at large.
“Good luck,” she whispered. “To both of us.”
David
AUSTIN CHANGED after Katrina laid waste to New Orleans. Like a lot of urban areas within driving distance, Austin got thousands of hurricane evacuees. When the clouds lifted over Louisiana, there was, as they say, no “there” there, so people stayed where they were. But low-income housing was scarce, and once FEMA terminated rental assistance, Austin's homeless population hit crisis proportions.
This time the bad weather was on the Texas coast and a new wave of weather refugees swept Austin mere hours ahead of Gordon. Motels filled, even the skanky low-priced ones. People without rooms were taken in by the city's emergency shelters in churches, rec centers and in various buildings and gyms on campus.
Gordon flushed street kids from the urban creeks and filled the Tumbleweed Center's facilities quickly. The drop-in and emergency housing were beyond capacity. The clinic stayed open for the night. David had kids doubled up in transitional housing. When there was no more room, David tried to send the needy to various churches, but he soon got texts that there was no room anywhere.
Food and blankets ran out, but nobody complained. Volunteers had showed up with supplies earlier, but not enough. Once the storm passed, the inventory of basic supplies would have to be replenished, which would be difficult.
The kids had been quick to stake out space in the drop-in. Sleeping bags were scattered where different groups cl
ustered—the animal lovers in one area, the gay kids in another. The Emo kids gathered around the computers. David had heard that Goth was out and Emo was in, but he couldn't yet tell the nuances of their undead looks. Druggies huddled in a corner. The drop-in had a strict no-using policy, but half the kids came in already altered.
They were a unique bunch—lip rings, choppy hair, tats, gauges, dreadlocks, bleached cut-offs, Argyle socks, frayed coveralls, fedoras, plaid chucks, ripped skirts, ratty knitted hats and flannel shirts. Their lives hung from carabineers hooked through belt loops and packs. Most of the kids had acne. The boys had all manner of struggling facial hair. Some wore cheap aviator sunglasses that boasted dirty glamour, like young Hollywood gone to seed. They were a wet and smelly bunch, but they had style.
David picked his way across the sea of sleeping bags, stopping to talk, taking inventory, looking for some of the younger ones. A few kept up a persistent cough. David made note of infected piercings. One kid cupped his hand to his cheek, a sure sign of a toothache.
“Hey, Mr. D. Zup?”
“Looking good, Mr. D.”
Freestyle was kicked back on the couch next to Minion. His eye seemed to have healed. He used a Sharpie to draw on his skateboard—skeletons and flames.
The last time David saw Minion he was busking on the front steps of University Baptist, strumming his guitar with his hat on the sidewalk. He'd propped up a cardboard sign that read Need money for new strings. David didn't usually give out cash, but he'd slipped him a five. He figured Mook and Elda had gone to Mook's mother's apartment. David looked around for Lorelei, the new addition to that tribe.
“Hey, how you guys doing?” he asked them.
Freestyle didn't answer.
Minion said, “Everything's cool.”
“You seen Lorelei around?”
“Nah. We left her at the creek. She was going to some friend's house.”
He doubted that.
Minion picked a few notes on his guitar. “Hey, man, thanks for the fiver. Got new strings. Listen.” He launched into The Cure's Boys Don't Cry. The room grew quiet. David surveyed the kids while he played. People sang low. The drop-in's windows rattled and lights flickered. David had been through similar situations, and he figured that at some point the power would fail.
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