Busted Flush

“I think the levee may have broken,” Hoodoo Mama said. “That sound . . . there’s one not far from here.”

“Listen up,” I yelled. “I’m going to make you some flotation devices. I want you to grab them and paddle over here. We’ll pull you up. Okay?”

There was no answer.

Before I could say “Okay” again, Hoodoo Mama had stepped to the railing.

“You fuckers know who I am, right?” she said loudly. “Bubbles here has a good idea, and I want you to follow it.”

“I can’t swim,” came a faint voice.

“All you need to do is grab hold of the bubble and paddle it over here,”

I said.

“What if I fall off?”

“I’ll jump in and get you,” I said. “Ready?”

I extended my hands as if I were holding a playground ball, and shimmering iridescence formed between my palms. I made it larger—about the size of a beach ball—and I made it nice and firm, so it wouldn’t burst when they were holding on to it.

I glanced down to see where I needed the bubble to go, then sent it on its way. It flew across the warehouse and splashed into the water close to one of the men. The bubble skittered across the surface and he grabbed it.

I kept making bubbles. My pants loosened, and I stopped bubbling for a moment to cinch them tighter. In the pale light, I could see that a few people had actually bobbed over to us already.

“I’ve got a rope in here,” I said, slinging my emergency bag at Hoodoo Mama.

She grabbed the bag, yanked the zipper open, and pulled out the rope. Her zombies came to the edge of the balcony and stood next to me. It was creepy as hell that they didn’t breathe.

“Okay, here’s the rope,” I said to the bubble-floater closest to us. “What’s your name?”

“Floyd,” the man in the water said. His teeth were chattering a little and it made “Floyd” come out as “Fffffloyd.”

“Floyd, I want you to grab the rope as high as you can. You’ll have to let go of the bubble.”

“I can’t swim,” he said.

“No problem,” I replied. “I can. You get in trouble, I’ll come for you.”

“Are those zombies up there?” His voice quavered.

I sighed. “Yes, Floyd, they’re zombies. But they’re not going to do anything to you. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

But Floyd just clung to the bubble.

Hoodoo Mama flung herself against the railing. It groaned and swayed.

“Grab the rope, fucker!” she yelled.

He did. The zombies hauled him up.

One down.

Leaning toward Hoodoo Mama, I whispered, “Got any idea how many are down there?”

She whispered back, “I dunno. Maybe twenty.”

The zombies pulled more people from the water. After a while, the men we’d rescued started helping pull people up, too. Then the water began to rise. I didn’t want to say anything, but it looked like Hoodoo Mama was right. The levee had broken.

I pulled Hoodoo Mama aside. “We can’t get them all out of here,” I said. “One small boat isn’t going to cut it.”

She grabbed my hand and led me toward one of the offices. “Look,” she said, opening the door to one of the offices.

Inside there were cots folded up against one wall and cases of water stacked in a corner.

“They’ve been planning for this since Harriet,” she said. “I helped them.”

“This isn’t enough for that many people.”

“I know that,” she said. She planted her fists on her skinny hips and gave me a look I was now all too familiar with. “Every office on this floor has cots, blankets, water, rations, first aid kits. We didn’t know how many people would be staying. Luckily, fewer than we expected.”

“What about a generator? Bathroom facilities?”

“We got stuff covered. Oh, fuck!” She ran out of the room to the railing. Down below, a man was floundering in the water. I started to bubble up another floating ball, but I could see he was already panicking.

“Crap,” I said. I kicked off my shoes and pulled off my baggy pants. I was not looking forward to jumping into that stinking mess. Outside, with the rain coming down, it was harder to tell just how bad the smell was. But in here, it was foul.

I grabbed the rail, hoisted myself over, and dropped into the water.

It was a shock when I hit. I’d expected it to be warm, but it was pretty damn cold. The guy who’d been floundering had sunk. I dove for him, but it was too dark to see anything. So I surfaced and yelled, “Get my flashlight out of my bag!”

A few seconds later, I saw Hoodoo Mama at the railing with the flashlight in her hand. She tossed it to me, but she was no Curveball. I had to lunge for it. It was my trusty, waterproof, small-but-bright flashlight. I’d had it since Egypt.

I switched it on, clamped it in my teeth, and dove under again. There was slightly more visibility now, but not loads. The next time down, I found him.

It was tricky getting him up. He was kicking and flailing. I hooked my arms under his arms. As we surfaced, he started sputtering and thrashing harder. So I held him tighter and said, “Dude, I’m trying to save you here. Don’t make me sorry I did.”

He settled down after that, and I got him under the railing.

I released one arm and bubbled with my free hand.