Another Kind Of Hurricane Part 15

Guards let them cross the Crescent City Connection Bridge into New Orleans. It was unlike anything Henry had ever seen. The sun was blazing down, but everything was gray. The street was gray. The houses on the street were gray. Their windows and doors were gray. The cars on the street pointed in all different directions. They were gray too.

HELP ME was painted on the side of one of the houses. An enormous tree branch was partway through the front window of the house next door. At the house across the street, a hole had been ripped out of the roof.

And rows of refrigerators were duct-taped and lined up on the sidewalk. Refrigerators! Henry realized that the sun was so bright because there were barely any trees on the street. There were more refrigerators than trees! He imagined the woods behind his house, imagined them filled with appliances. A stand of was.h.i.+ng machines, a path through some dishwashers, a field of microwaves and toasters.

It was unlike anything he had ever smelled either. Jeezum Crow! Nopie had pushed him into the dumpster behind the school once. Not on purpose-Nopie wouldnt have dared do that, but Henry had been balancing on its rim and Nopie ran into it with his bike and knocked him in. New Orleans smelled worse than that. Like rotting vegetables and sweat and sour milk. Like the entire city was a giant dumpster.

Henry breathed in deeply. The thick air coated his lungs, his head, and his thoughts like glue.

He remembered Waynes funeral. The way his body had come unglued. The way it had exploded into little bits all over the church.

They drove for a few blocks in silence. The only other vehicles on the streets-besides the pickup sticks array of cars facing every which way-were a Humvee, two construction vehicles, another eighteen-wheeler, and a truck pulling a boat.

"You okay?" said Jake.

Henry nodded. He couldnt speak.

"Keep your eye out for a sign. We need to find Camp Street. This might even be it."

Henry nodded again.

They crossed an intersection.

A Chevy Blazer sat parked in front of a house. Or what was left of the house. Magnets covered the car, from the hood to the back b.u.mper, from the wheels to the roof.

"Can you stop?" Henry managed to say.

Jake stopped the truck and Henry got out. He walked over to the Chevy.

There were hundreds of magnets covering it.

I NEW ORLEANS.

An American flag.

A yellow smiley face.

Mickey Mouse.

Advertis.e.m.e.nts for doctors offices, law firms, electricians, and towing companies.

And photos.

So many photos. School pictures, pictures of grandparents and grandkids, and animals.

Dogs and cats and birds.

Henry touched a picture of a small girl with pigtails sitting next to a huge dog. The dog was practically sitting on her. He traced the outline of the dogs body.

A tall man with a beard walked over to join Henry.

"What am I doing, right?" the man laughed. "I know. Im asking myself the same question."

Jake joined Henry and the man.

"Im an artist. And I havent been able to paint," he said. "I couldnt just leave them on these refrigerators out here- It seemed like a crime to abandon them-" He opened up his hand. A magnet of Frosty the Snowman sat in his palm. "Maybe Im just crazy-" he laughed. "You want to put this one on the car?"

Henry took the Frosty magnet. He studied the mosaic of tiny bits of peoples lives. Finally he placed the magnet on the front pa.s.senger door. Next to a magnet of a quote on one side-JUST WHEN THE CATERPILLAR THOUGHT THE WORLD WAS OVER, IT BECAME A b.u.t.tERFLY-and a cartoon of a dog peeing on a man dressed in red pants on the other.

- Sixteen hundred miles from home. Smack in the middle of a street filled with garbage, in front of houses chopped open and smeared with paint, in a place where everything was backward, where the inside, like those refrigerators, was outside and where the outside, like that tree through the front window, was inside. In the middle of the worst kind of destruction Henry had ever seen and ever smelled, he felt the strangest sense of comfort. Because for the first time since he had been on the mountain with Wayne, what was outside Henry matched what was inside.

chapter 29.

ZAVION.

The van pulled up to the checkpoint around lunchtime. The brownies were a big hit with the guards.

"Best thing Ive tasted all day," said the first one.

"Yeah," said the second. "Yesterday was a good day too, someone brought a whole roasted chicken."

"Greens and sweet potato too," said the first.

"Good thing you didnt come yesterday, Ma, or you wouldve been sent home," said Dianas son.

The guards waved them through. Diana started the van back up and drove into the broken heart of New Orleans. The streets were quiet. That was the first thing Zavion noticed. From his hiding place, he couldnt believe how quiet they were. This wasnt the way home sounded. Where were the car radios and church choirs? Where were the marching bands and boom boxes? This was the moon. Even stuck under the blanket, Zavion felt like he was hurtling through s.p.a.ce. Endless silent s.p.a.ce. "Stop here," said Dianas son. Zavion heard a rustling of papers. "This is the first house."

Diana stopped the van, and she and her son got out and went around to open the back door. They took the first two cages and slammed the door shut again.

Zavion sat up slowly. He was afraid to look out the window, so he stared at the blanket that had covered him. He brought it up to his nose. The wet dog smell was strong. Zavion wondered if Diana and her son had any dogs. There was a blue feather tucked in a fold in the blanket. What kind of bird did it come from? A parrot?

Zavion dropped the blanket from his face and took a deep breath.

He coughed.

The smell was thick and sharp.

Not wet dog. More like wet hog. Wet, dead hog. Wild and rotting. He shoved the blanket back up to his nose.

He finally turned his head.

He felt a jolt in his chest, like his heart had popped like popcorn. Turned inside out.

A purple car was parked across the street from the van. Parked upside down. Like a Mardi Gras turtle on its back.

Zavion shuddered.

What had he come back to?

He bit down hard on his top and bottom back teeth. Clenched his jaw.

He had a job to do.

He let go of the blanket and climbed into the front seat. He opened the door and got out of the van.

- He put his face down low and raised his shoulder so that his nose was just tucked under his t-s.h.i.+rt.

At least the sun was out. Zavion gazed around him. Gray as far as his eyes could see. The world was gray. A strange combination, a dismal gray under the bright yellow sun.

Could he really do this? Now that he was here, he wasnt so sure. He looked down the block. HELP ME was painted on the side of one of the houses. Zavion remembered the man and woman on the roof of the house on his block. With the sign. HELP US.

HELP US.

HELP ME.

What had he been thinking coming back here? Could he really do this? Find the store and pay it back?

He took a deep breath, hitched his backpack up on his shoulder, and squeezed the marble in his pocket. He tried not to choke as the thick air went down his throat.

chapter 30.

HENRY.

"h.e.l.lo?" called Jake.

"Coming!" yelled someone from the back room at the Salvation Army.

Henry inhaled the cold air. It was different from the air outside, easier to take into his lungs.

A woman appeared, carrying a cake. "h.e.l.lo," she said. "Sorry. I was in the kitchen, just finis.h.i.+ng up this new idea I had. This." She held up the cake. "It might taste awful. It might taste just horrible. But I need someone to try it. Want to try it?"

"You make it sound so appealing how can we resist?" said Jake.

The woman closed her eyes and put her hand on her forehead. "I did it again," she said.

"Did what?" asked Henry.

"Dragged out the toilet paper-"

"Huh?" The woman was funny. Henry liked her. He liked the magnet man he had met too. He inhaled again and got a whiff of-cinnamon?

"Stuck my foot in it," she said. "Or shoved my foot in my mouth. Either way. A foot issue. The usual." She grinned. "Im Cora. How can I help you?"

"Im Jake, and this is my friend, Henry. Is this five sixty-four Camp Street?"

"Indeed it is," said Cora.

"Then we have a delivery from Vermont."

"Vermont! You all are wonderful. This is the second delivery weve had from your lovely state this week."

Henrys ears perked up. Maybe the marble was here. Wouldnt that be lucky? Wouldnt that make him believe in its luck again? Maybe?

"Should I start bringing in the bags?" said Jake.

"Oh, yes," said Cora. "Thank you. I can help-"

Henry wanted to know where the bags were from the first delivery. "Do you need help unpacking the new stuff in here?" he asked, trying to sound like he didnt care.

"I could use your help outside," said Jake.

"The smell-" said Henry quickly.

"Its overwhelming," agreed Cora. "The whole city stuck its foot in it, didnt it?"

Jeezum Crow! This woman was so cool!

"It smells like cinnamon in here," he said.

Cora beamed. "You can tell? Its in the cake! Oh, Im so glad you can tell! Thats a good sign, right? Maybe the cake tastes good? I know! How about we try a little of it after we work?"

Henry nodded.

"I have a job for you right in here," she said. "I wont ever turn down help. That would be foolish, wouldnt it? I try not to do foolish things if I can help it. Except for the toilet paper thing." She laughed as she walked toward the door. "Some of the bags are there, behind the counter," said Cora pointing. "And some are on the floor in front of those shelves. Can you take out the clothes and organize them by size?"