The Elephant Mountains by Scott Ely Read Free Book Online Page B

position in the bow with the Saiga. Unfortunately she would be exposed, sitting up high in the driver’s seat, but he could not shoot and drive at the same time. Depending on her to drive was going to be a safer bet than depending on her to shoot.
    Following his instructions, she eased the boat through the cypresses toward the highway. Once they reached the highway, he could see nothing but trees and water and sky. He let her continue to drive so she would have more practice as they headed toward the lake. He sat in the bow with the Saiga beside him and watched the water before them for debris.
    They had not gone far before he saw up ahead something moving in the lower limbs of a big live oak. It was probably a raccoon or a possum. But then, as they came closer, he saw it was a human figure. He picked up the Saiga and pointed toward the tree. Angela nodded her head to let him know she had seen it too.
    The figure, he could now tell for sure it was a man, stood up on the thick limb and waved both arms above his head. Stephen motioned to Angela to ease them in slowly and then told her to make a circle of the tree. She did that well. He got a good look at the man, who appeared more frightened than dangerous. After they made two circles of the tree, it was clear nobody was setting an ambush for them. The tree was not filled with riflemen. He told Angela to put the engine in neutral so he could speak with the man.
    â€œDon’t shoot me,” the man said. “I ain’t done nothing to you.”
    He lowered the Saiga.
    â€œHow did you get here?” Stephen asked.
    He told them he was from New Orleans. He had fled the city by boat. He went across the lake, following the ruined bridge. Sections had collapsed when some barges got loose and were driven by hurricane-force winds against it.
    â€œThese men come up in a big inboard and took my water, food and gas,” he said. “Then they shot my little boat full of holes while I was in it and told me to swim for it.”
    He explained how, when he was at the end of his strength and thought surely he was going to drown, he came upon a big chunk of Styrofoam. He was able to use that as a life preserver until it broke apart beneath his weight.
    â€œI climbed right up on this limb,” he said.
    â€œWhy did you leave New Orleans?” Stephen asked.
    â€œBecause it’s full of water,” he said. “The levees broke. Most of the people are gone. The National Guard has pulled out.”
    Stephen asked him what he thought the area around Audubon Park might be like.
    â€œI imagine it’s under about twenty feet of water,” he said. “But I don’t know. I never had a reason to go there. That’s where rich people live. Besides, it’s foolish talking about high places. There’s no high ground in New Orleans.”
    If the man was telling the truth, it confirmed what he had heard on the radio. Perhaps he should be more inclined to trust what he heard from the mystery station.
    Stephen considered what he should do. One thing was certain—going across the lake would be dangerous. On a day when the lake was perfectly smooth, they would probably be able to outrun many boats. But he could not count on that.
    â€œBoy, are you gonna leave me up in this tree?” the man said.
    â€œWhere do you want to go?” he asked.
    â€œA dry place,” he said.
    â€œUs too,” he said. “Come aboard.”
    He did not know how Angela felt, but he just could not leave the man in the tree to die.
    Stephen expected him to climb out along the limb to where it trailed off into the water. Instead he simply dropped out of the tree. He swam to the boat, and Stephen helped him climb over the side.
    â€œI thought I was going to be in that tree until Christmas,” he said.
    After he drank plenty of water, ignoring Stephen’s warning about drinking slowly, he told them his name was Byron Williams and that he worked in New