Tony Dunbar - Tubby Dubonnet 07 - Tubby Meets Katrina by Tony Dunbar Read Free Book Online

submerged hedge. “Far as I can go,” he yelled. “Do you think you can swim over here?”
    She did, along with a sullen teenager with a tie-dyed shirt and a nose ring, and a little boy about ten who was enjoying the entire adventure. Mom looked tired. Tubby helped them all crawl into the boat.
    “Where do you think we should go?” he asked when they were settled in their seats. He was totally inexperienced in nautical rescues on urban streets.
    “I don’t know,” the woman said, irritated, shaking her hair. “Don’t you live around here?”
    “Yeah, over by State Street. I think I’ve seen you at Winn-Dixie.”
    “Mary Jane, quit sucking your hair,” the woman scolded. “No telling what awful stuff’s in this water. You’ve rescued us,” she told Tubby. “Take us where it’s dry.”
    “Maybe Baptist Hospital would be worth a try,” he suggested, not sure he liked this predicament.
    “That sounds like a winner,” she said, angry at her fate.
    Her rescuer backed the boat out of the boxwoods and into the street. He pointed it toward Napoleon Avenue.
    “Lordy, there’s Mr. Melancon,” the woman exclaimed. A man in a checked bathrobe sat atop his roof. Tubby steered that way.
    Mr. Melancon had gone up on an aluminum ladder, and he came down the same way, stopping at the water line and waving for the boat to come in closer. He was wearing wet bedroom slippers over wet white socks, and he had not recently shaved. Tubby brought the boat in close, and the old man stepped in and stumbled into the arms of the teenager, who yelped. The boat rocked, and everybody made noises.
    “This is all so stupid,” Mr. Melancon griped.
    Tubby finally got them positioned. “Off we go again.”
    On the way to Napoleon Avenue they passed other stranded people, but five was about all the Lost Lady was rated to carry so Tubby just kept going. He made a tight turn toward the river and Baptist Hospital, still unsure of his depth. They got to the Emergency Entrance but the hospital was in water well up to the first floor and was as deserted as could be.
    “I suppose they got all the patients out,” the mother said.
    Suddenly there was the sound of breaking glass and a chair sailed through a window six flights up.
    A head poked out.
    “Send help!” the person cried. “It’s very hot in here!”
    “Mom, look, what’s that?” the kid asked, looking into the water.
    Tubby followed the pointing finger and saw what appeared to be toes and a nose floating toward them. He gunned his little trawler and hastened away. “The highest ground will be at the levee,” he said sagely.
    He was right, but he didn’t have to go all the way to the levee to prove it. Just a few blocks further on, right by one of Tubby’s favorite eateries, Pascal’s Manale, the Lost Lady scraped pavement.
    “I guess you’ll have to walk from here,” he told his passengers. “I think I can see dry land ahead at St. Charles Avenue.”
    “Maybe we can catch a streetcar,” the lady said bitterly. She got her family and Mr. Melancon over the side into water only about a foot deep. There were blue flashing lights at St. Charles, the signals emitted by welcoming police cars. “Are you coming?” she asked Tubby.
    “No, I’m going back,” he told her. Keep your daughter and Mr. Melancon, too. “If those guys are cops, tell them there are people who need help at the hospital.”
    He waited until his refugees had splashed out of the flood, and then he used his paddle to shove off. The Lost Lady took him back the way they had come, up Napoleon Avenue. His plan was to make at least one more trip bringing in survivors, ferrying people to solid ground. When he got back to the intersection at Claiborne, however, he saw a gleeful group of wet young men using a street sign to break in the door of the Walgreen’s. He reached into his green bag for his firearm, checked it for water, and placed in on his lap. Tubby was not a believer in guns. He had devoted