The Big Apple Posse

by Wendy R. Williams

  “Were you in the flood?” asked Amanda.

  “Yes, that Katrina destroyed our house. After the water went away, our house was one stinking mess. So my Mamma sent me up north to live with my Auntie Tina and just look what happened now!” said Thibodeaux.

  “If you live at 105th Street, how did you get down here?” asked Cindy.

  “On my bike. I was out riding my bike trying to find someone to help me get my Auntie downstairs. See, she just had knee surgery and she has to use a walker and the elevator is out because we don’t have any electricity. We live on the fourth floor. One of the gang guys in my neighborhood grabbed me and made me come with them to load up some recording equip. m.ent. When we got there, I saw they were stealing stuff, so I split, but not fast enough to keep from getting picked up by the moon guys,” said Thibodeaux.

  “So you’re a looter. They put a looter in the room with us.” Amanda was both scared and angry.

  “No, sirree. I’m no thief. I’m a rapper and a fashion designer. I designed this jacket. Pretty cool, huh?” said Thibodeaux as he twirled around to show them the back with its intricate design of Japanese-looking graffiti.

  “Why are you acting like a black rapper when you are not black?” asked Cindy.

  “Well, my Mamma is black, so I joined up. Hey, you kids don’t have any sense of humor, do you?” asked Thibodeaux.

  “I don’t think anything about this situation is funny,” Amanda said in a very prim voice.

  “Hey, loosen up. I am just about to lose my second home and I’m staying cool,” said Thibodeaux.

  “How old are you anyway? And why were you out on your bike by yourself? You don’t look like you are any older than me and I’m ten. My mother would never let me ride a bike by myself in this city,” said Peter.

  “Well, I’m twelve years old. Going to be thirteen in three months,” said Thibodeaux.

  “You don’t look twelve. You look short,” said Amanda.

  “Well, you look tall. How old are you?” asked Thibodeaux.

  “I’m twelve too,” said Amanda.

  “Hey, stop this. Do you know what happened?” asked Peter.

  “That cop told me there were two big explosions downtown and one over by the UN. Then there were some smaller explosions, but they did not hurt anybody, they just put white powder all over a bunch of buildings. When the powder bombs went off, a lot of people ran outside looking like they had rolled in flour. Then there were all these announcements telling people to walk over the bridges and leave the city as soon as possible, so everyone walked out. Why I bet some of them are still walking! But my Auntie just had knee surgery so she can’t walk so I stayed with her. Then I ran into those no-goods. I have to get back and check on my Auntie. She sure can’t get down here and get on a van,” said Thibodeaux.

  “I don’t think there is any poison, or maybe just a little. I heard some men say that the white powder in Grand Central is just flour. They were talking about it last night in the bar at Grand Central station and I recorded them, but I feel asleep and my minicam’s battery is dead. I don’t have the recharger with me and even if I did,” Amanda gestured to the room with no electricity.

  “Here, let me see that.” Thibodeaux took the minicam from Amanda and opened the battery compartment. “Hey, you can also use two double A batteries.”

  “You can?” Amanda grabbed the camera back.

  “See right there on the inside, it says two double A batteries.”

  “Well, I don’t have any double A batteries. We have been very busy for the last twenty-four hours and I did not have time to do any shopping,” snapped Amanda.

  “Well, we just need to go get some batteries and let that cop listen. I can’t get on a van to New Jersey, who is going to take care of my Auntie?” said Thibodeaux.

  “We can ask them to help your Auntie,” said Cindy.

  “I asked. They said there are no vans in my neighborhood and they are going to finish evacuating the people they have right now and then leave. He said they were not going to come back until the tests are done, some roads are cleared and they know that it is safe,” said Thibodeaux.

  “I wish I could help your aunt, but we need to leave. I have to get Peter and Cindy out of the city. We have to find our mothers,” said. Amanda.

  “But if you have a recording, we can get some batteries and then let the police listen. Maybe there is nothing wrong with the city,” said Thibodeaux.

  “Nothing wrong. The theater we were in fell down and we have been chased all over the city by criminals!” Peter was incredulous.

  “Well other than that. But maybe there is no poison, so if they catch the bad guys, we can all go home,” said Thibodeaux.

  “I want to go home. I want my room. I want my mother. I love New York City. I was just starting my acting career,” Cindy said.

  “What the? Oh, never mind. I would hate to lose my home too,” said Amanda.

  “Well, this losing homes is getting old. My Mamma had to live in a trailer where our house used to be and she said I couldn’t come home because the trailer might make me sick. My Auntie said this mess is like jumping out of the frying pan and getting into the fire,” said Thibodeaux.

  “So, what should we call you?” asked Peter. “Bo?”

  “Call me Thibodeaux.”

  “Isn’t that a pretty big name?” asked Amanda.

  “I’m the fourth Thibodeaux Botrain. All the Botrains, one through three, were New Orleans horn men. I was going to be a horn man too, but then I had to move here so I got into rapping and designing,” said Thibodeaux.

  “What’s a horn man?” asked Peter.

  “A guy who plays the coronet in a jazz band. But there’s no jazz band in my new hood, so that’s why I do the rapping and designing,” said Thibodeaux.

  “Where’s your Dad?” asked Peter.

  “He passed on during the flood. But why are we talking when we need batteries?” said Thibodeaux.

  “Did he drown?” asked Cindy.

  “No, a tree fell right on top of him. My Mamma always said that man didn’t know how to be lucky,” said Thibodeaux.

  “Where are we going to find some batteries?” asked Cindy.

  “There is a shop downstairs that has a bunch of things. If we can just get down there, we might be able to get some batteries,” said Thibodeaux.

  “But if we go down there, the cop will see us,” said Peter.

  “Maybe, maybe not. Let’s go,” said Thibodeaux.

  “Go?” asked Amanda.

  “Yeah, get your stuff. We need to get some batteries and find out what is going on,” said Thibodeaux.

  “The cop said we should stay here,” said Peter.

  “I don’t want to leave this room,” said Cindy.

  “Okay, we’ll come back and get you,” said Peter.

  “I’m not staying here by myself,” said Cindy.

  “So come. I will stick a hanger in the door so it won’t lock and we can get back in if we want to,” said Thibodeaux.

  “Where are you going?” Amanda was looking at Peter who was packing up his backpack.

  “We need to find out what happened. Don’t you want to know?” asked Peter.

  “Now, that’s my home boy,” said Thibodeaux.

  “Home boy?” asked Cindy.

  “I mean a smart man,” said Thibodeaux.

  “I do want to know what is on my camera and I can’t leave any of you here. So pack up your bags,” said Amanda.

  “So, let’s go.” Thibodeaux started to open the door when Amanda pulled it out of his hand.

  “Hey! I’m in charge here,” said Amanda.

  “Okay. You do it,” said Thibodeaux.

  “So, let’s go.” Amanda slowly opened the door and peered out into the empty hall. She motioned for everyone to follow her and they quickly moved down the corridor to the end of the hall and entered the service stairs. The group climbed down the stairs quickly, and entered the lobby of the hotel. There were meeting rooms
off the lobby. Amanda led them into one and closed the door quietly behind her.

  “You stay here. I am going to go get some batteries and then we can decide what to do.” Thibodeaux walked out of the room.

  “You are coming back aren’t you?” asked Peter.

  “Sure man,” said Thibodeaux.

  “Don’t you want a flashlight?” asked Amanda.

  “Right.”

  ““And don’t forget to leave a note about what you take,” said Peter.

  “What? Leave a note about what?” asked Thibodeaux.

  “Write a note about what you took and sign it. Oh, just do it. One day this will be over and I don’t want to get arrested.” Amanda handed Thibodeaux a tablet and a pen from her backpack.

  Thibodeaux left.

  Chapter VI

  Amanda pulled everyone over next to the wall behind a table. “Sit, here and be very quiet. If someone comes in, maybe they won’t see us.”

  Amanda, Peter, and Cindy were back in the dark with only a flashlight, but this time at least they were in a hotel and there was none of the white powder.

  “Do you think he will come back?” Cindy asked.

  “He was nice,” said Peter.

  “We don’t know that.” Amanda said and then she saw Peter and Cindy’s face. “He did seem nice.”

  They waited in the dark. Amanda had her finger on her flashlight, ready to shut it off at a moment’s notice. But no one came. Amanda looked at her watch; it was 3:00 p.m. It would be dark outside very soon. Should they wait or should she try to get everyone on one of the police buses and go to New Jersey? Amanda was just about to tell Peter and Cindy that they needed to leave when suddenly the door opened. She quickly turned off her flashlight.

  “Hey, you there?” It was Thibodeaux.

  “Did you get the batteries?” asked Peter.

  “I sure did. I found this electronics store down the street where the door was wide open and I got everything we need—batteries, some portable battery rechargers, four night vision goggles, some walkie talkies, and some pepper sprays they had behind the counter.” Thibodeaux opened up a shopping bag to show his loot.

  “What are we going to do with pepper spray?” asked Amanda.

  “Make the bad guys sneeze,” said Thibodeaux.

  “Did you leave a note?” asked Cindy.

  “You kids and your notes.” Thibodeaux looked at their faces. “I did, I did.”

  “Good. Did you list everything you took,” said Cindy in a prim little voice.

  “No, I just said I took a bunch of stuff, the exact inventory to be supplied later and I signed my name—Thibodeaux Botrain.”

  “What’s an inventory?” asked Cindy.

  “It’s a list of stuff in a store,” answered Thibodeaux.

  “A what? Oh never mind.” Amanda was beginning to think the notes might be a little silly in these circumstances.

  “Did those hazmat suit guys see you?” Peter was sounding very worried.

  “Here’s the thing. I didn’t see anyone anywhere. I peeked around the corner of Grand Central station and all the vans were gone and there was no one there,” said Thibodeaux.

  “Did you see the policemen in the hotel?” asked Amanda.

  “Nope, I didn’t see anyone,” said Thibodeaux.

  “You mean we are all alone?” asked Cindy.

  Amanda had pulled her cell phone out of her jacket pocket and was trying to dial her mother’s cell phone number. “I have half a bar.” Amanda listened to her cell phone. She heard one ring and then nothing. “Let’s go upstairs and see if I can make a call.”

  “If we go back to the room, I can try to get on the internet with my netbook,” said Peter.”

  So grabbing their backpacks and Thibodeaux’s bag of goodies, they left, creeping through the windowless hotel lobby by the light of one flashlight, running back up the stairs and into the fourth floor hallway and then back into the room and closing the door.

  Amanda walked over to the window and tried her cell again. She had one bar but she still could not get through. “We need to get somewhere high and see if we can use the cell phones.”

  “We should listen to your camera first. Find out more about those guys in Grand Central. That way we can tell someone what is going on,” Thibodeaux said.

  Amanda grabbed Thibodeaux’s bag and pulled out the batteries and put them in her minicam. Everyone sat down and began to listen.

  The two men were talking about the whisky that was in the bar and how much they were going to drink. The children sat listening with bored looks on their faces. The suddenly it became interesting.

  “I think we can leave now. I have not seen any police, nothing but three little kids,” said Man One.

  “Do you think they are through loading up at Harry Winston?” asked Man Two.

  “I guess we could go to the safe house and ask, but I sure hate to leave this Scotch,” said Man One. “But you know Kilgairn is not through. The jewels at Harry Winston were just the start.”

  “Do you think he will quit when he’s finished at Tiffany’s?”

  “Not him. He won’t stop until he has every diamond in this city,” said Man One.

  “He sure was mad at the guys who went to 46th Street and didn’t get anything. All those jewelers had shot guns,” said Man Two.

  “Two years of planning and those guys risk getting shot trying to blast into the Diamond District. What a bunch of cowboys?” said Man One.

  “Well, by Wednesday night, we’ll be done. I can’t wait to get out of here,” said Man Two.

  Amanda stopped the recorder. “They are jewel thieves. They blew up the city to steal jewels?”

  “Man that’s rich. Where do they think people will wear jewels if there is no New York. They sure won’t be wearing them in New Orleans,” said Thibodeaux.

  “We need to tell someone,” said Amanda.

  “How? Thibodeaux said there is no one out there to tell,” said Peter.

  “They left this. I found it on the bar.” Peter showed them the flash drive.

  “Give me that.” Amanda grabbed for the flash drive but Peter pulled it away from her and put it in his netbook.

  “What’s on it?” asked Thibodeaux.

  “It’s password protected,” Peter said.

  Amanda took the flash drive from Peter’s computer.

  “Give it back. We can crack it later. What kind of password would those jewel thieves have anyway? They wouldn’t be able to remember anything big. It has to be something simple,” said Peter.

  Thibodeaux looked at Peter with amazement. “Is he always like that?” He asked Amanda.

  “Yeah, I’ve lived my whole life with Baby Einstein,” said Amanda.

  “Don’t call me Baby Einstein,” said Peter.

  “Hey, let’s go to the roof,” said Thibodeaux.

  “The roof?” asked Amanda.

  “So we can see what’s going on and try to use our cell phones,” said Thibodeaux.

  “Aren’t there a lot of floors?” asked Cindy.

  “Nope. Just twenty or so,” answered Thibodeaux.

  “Twenty floors? We are going to climb twenty floors?” asked Cindy.

  “Well, are you in or are you not?” asked Thibodeaux.

  “If we are on the roof, maybe I can find a signal and get on the internet and find out what is going on,” said Peter.

  “Okay, let’s go.” Amanda led her charges back into the hall, sticking the hanger back in the doorway, and onto the stairway where they proceeded to climb up twenty flights of stairs by light of their flashlights.

  When they reached the roof, they saw a sign that said, “Roof door locks from the inside.”

  “We need something to prop open the door. We don’t want to end up like that guy in the The Hangover,” said Thibodeaux.

  “What’s the The Hangover?” asked Peter.

  “Oh just some film where this guy got locked on the roof,” said Thibodeaux.

  “I didn�
�t see it,” said Peter.

  “It’s rated R,” said Thibodeaux.

  “Your mother allows you watch rated R movies?” asked Cindy.

  “I told you, my Mamma is in New Orleans,” said Thibodeaux.

  “Oh,” said Peter.

  Amanda opened the door and saw a brick just to the side of the door. “I guess someone else did not want to get locked on the roof. Everyone go outside. We need to take turns standing here to be sure no one comes up here and closes the door.”

  “I’ll sit by the door and try to get on the internet,” said Peter.

  “Try CNN, it’s in Atlanta and it may be up,” said Amanda.

  “I know that. You aren’t the only one who goes to school,” said Peter.

  Everyone walked out on the roof. Peter sat down on the roof deck next to the door and took out his netbook and tried to log onto CNN.com.

  Amanda, Cindy, and Thibodeaux all walked to the edge of the roof, pulled out their cell phones and tried to dial. The city was dark except for some sporadic areas that still had electricity. There was no one on the street. It was dark but there were no signs of movement.

  Amanda dialed and held her phone to her ear. Suddenly she heard her mother’s voice. “Mom, it’s Amanda.”

  “Where are you?”

  “We are on the roof of a hotel. I have Peter and Cindy with me. Mom…. Mom….” Amanda had lost her connection.

  Amanda dialed again but this time the phone did not even ring.

  “My phone won’t work,” said Cindy.

  “Mine does not work either.” Thibodeaux had an I-Phone he was trying to use.

  “How did you get an I-Phone?” asked Cindy.

  “My Mamma misses me and she sends presents,” said Thibodeaux.

  “Oh,” said Cindy.

  “Hey, I’m online,” said Peter.

  Thibodeaux, Cindy, and Amanda ran over to where Peter was sitting next to the propped open door.

  “Here, let me email Mom.” Amanda grabbed the netbook and typed. “Mom, this is Amanda. We are okay. We are in a hotel but there are bad guys in the city.” Suddenly Peter’s netbook lost his connection.