Upside Down in the Middle of Nowhere (14 page)

Mama picked up Khayla and Kheelin in one scoop and ran back inside the house. She let out a long, constant stream of “No, no, no, no, no.”

Sealy squeezed my hand so tight it hurt.

I stared at the nightmare barreling toward us.

“Get inside!” Daddy's words boomed into the still, thick air. We turned and ran for the house.

Georgie slammed the door shut and stood with his back pressed up against it, like he was pushing hard to keep the water out. Then I seen he was crying. I ain't never in my whole life seen Georgie cry. My heart pounded harder.

The roar and rumble got louder, closer.

Daddy put his arm around Georgie. He pulled him gently away from the door. “I want you all to listen to me. I only have time to say this once. The levee must've breached—that's what this has to be. We have to go upstairs, and we have to go
now.”

“But Daddy, we don't have an upstairs,” Sealy squeak-cried, her lips quivering.

Before Sealy finished, Daddy had the rickety ol' ladder to the attic pulled down. He was already helping Memaw up the loose-looking steps. Mama was next, with one of the twins in her arms and Sealy behind her, holding tight to the hem of her dress.

I ran over and tore down the trash bag so I could see out the broken window. I couldn't believe what I seen. That wall of churning black water was at least as tall as Daddy and was so close I could feel its heartbeat. I couldn't stop staring at it. The loud, rumbling sound of the water monster filled my head.

“Armani!” Daddy yelled. He had me in his arms and was forcing me up the attic ladder. I was still wearing Memaw's rubber boots and my feet kept slipping off the steps. Daddy's body pressed against mine to keep me from falling.

I was almost to the top of the ladder when the front door and all of the windows exploded at the same time! A tidal wave came plowing into our house! Everyone in the attic screamed and sobbed. Daddy pushed me hard from behind, forcing me to move from where I was froze on the ladder.

I looked behind me and Daddy was shoulder-deep in the inky-black foamy water. Then I seen it. Mama's black-velvet Jesus, smeared with sky-blue buttermilk frosting, floated out the window and into the rolling darkness.

Daddy slammed the door shut to our horrible tiny attic. It was hot. So hot, the air felt like it was on fire when I sucked it in. It even
smelled
hot.

It was dark.

We coughed.

We cried.

And we didn't talk. We waited.

We huddled together in one big Curtis clump on the attic's crooked plywood floor, squished into a corner as far as possible from the door that held the water back.

The roar of raging waters destroying our house had stopped. But for a long while, the water rushing below us churned and pushed—the sound of everything we called home being washed away.

The roof rattled and shook, giving me the constant unsettling feeling that the wind was gonna rip it clean off.

The scariest time was when everything got all quiet and still. None of us was crying or talking. I was scared to make any noise. I didn't want the water to find us.

Then the sweetest sound filled my ears. Memaw went to humming one of her hymns real soft. Sitting there in the dark, all wrapped up in fear, came the angels' music. A calm settled over me—settled over all of us. We stayed that way for a good while, letting Memaw's voice carry us from one long minute to the next.

“Mama, I hot.” Khayla broke the spell.

“I know, honey,” Mama said in a normal voice, like we weren't stuck in the attic.

“I'm hot too, Mama,” Sealy said.

Cricket was breathing fast. Her tongue lay out across my arm.

“Yeah,” Georgie's voice came out of the dark. “It's two hundred degrees up in here, Daddy. Feels like we're runnin' outta air.”

“Mr. Curtis,” Mama said, “what should we do?” The twins started fussing.

Memaw's humming got louder.

“Everyone hang on and try to stay calm,” Daddy said, moving around. There was a
thunk
and he mumbled, “Ouch.”

“Daddy, are you all right?” me and Georgie asked.

“I'm fine. I hit my head on the ceiling. What I need is a flashlight.”

Sealy fooled with something next to me. “Here, Daddy.” And just like that, a bright beam of light shot across the attic, shining right in Daddy's face. Memaw's humming stopped.

Daddy put his hand up to block the light. “Sealy, where'd you get a flashlight, baby?”

“From my book sack.”

“Well, I'll be,” Daddy said, like he was admiring a straight-A report card.

Memaw was soaked in sweat. She looked more tired than I'd ever seen her in my whole life. “Are you okay, Memaw?”

She took hold of my hand in both of hers and squeezed. Tears rolled down my cheek. I wiped my face on my sleeve. I fanned her the best I could with my other hand.

Daddy took the flashlight from Sealy and made his way to the attic door. I knew what he was fixin' to do. Part of me was excited that our horrible time in the stiflin' attic was about over. Daddy would open that door, we'd climb back downstairs, and start cleaning up whatever mess the water had left. I'd run the whole way to TayTay's. . . .

But my good sense wanted to scream,
Don't open it, Daddy!

Daddy pulled on the door's handle. Nothing happened. The door didn't budge an inch. His forehead scrunched up. He reached up and adjusted his bandage. He gnawed on his bottom lip.

Daddy gave the flashlight to Georgie and told him to shine it so that he could see what he was doing, then he heaved so hard his arms shook. The door let out a creak and then popped. It flew open. Daddy fell backward onto his butt.

The stink of floodwater slammed into the stuffy attic. A strange gray-white, flickery light came rising from below. Someone let out a gasp. My heart sank down to my toes. Invisible hands reached deep down inside me and stole the air right out from my lungs.

Water. Dirty, oily, foamy water—all the way up to the top of the attic steps—sloshed back and forth.

Mama whimpered and shushed the twins. Or maybe she was shushing herself.

Sealy had her head buried in Georgie's lap.

Memaw started humming again. It wasn't the soothing sound like before. It sounded more like hum-crying.

Daddy stood with his head hanging as low as a head could go. All the tallness of him was gone.

“Are we gonna die?” I almost-whispered.

Daddy barely lifted his head. He looked at me. One tear left a wet line down his face.

“I'm serious.” This time I shouted. My heart was about to leap out of my chest. “Are we gonna die? I wanna know!” My whole body shook.

Sealy was sobbing.

Daddy came to me and wrapped me in his arms. I buried my face against his chest. He stroked my hair and rocked me. “Shhh . . . it's all right, Armani,” he said, with a sniffle. “Nobody's going to die.”

“But, Daddy, the water. We're stuck up here
forever.”

He took my head in his big hands and looked at me straight on. “Now listen. I want
all
of you to listen.” He cleared his throat. “We're going to be all right. We're not stuck up here forever. The water's not
rising anymore and it should start receding soon. Now, let's all try to stay calm.” He took a deep breath. “We're going to be fine.”

“Are you sure, Daddy?” I asked.

“I'm sure, sweetheart,” he said, and he smiled. But the smile didn't reach his eyes.

“Promise?”

His smile faded. He pulled my head up against his chest with my ear pressed to the spot where his heart beat the loudest. He kissed the top of my head and whispered in my ear, “Promise.”

The dim, shimmery gray glow coming off the water gave us enough light so we could see most of the attic. I was mesmerized by the sight of it.

I got lost staring into the water that filled our house like a fishbowl. All our things drifted by. I seen a sippy cup, my math book, lots of clothes, and Mama and Daddy's gold-framed wedding picture. Memaw's TV-watching chair was down there, just a-bobbing up and down—almost dancing in the murky water. I even seen a paper plate still holding jambalaya float by real slow. But when I seen Khayla's pretty little baby doll float by with one eye open and one eye closed, I jumped back from the sight. I tore my eyes away from the water and the sadness below.

I gave Cricket a hug and poured water into my cupped hand for her to drink. Daddy and Georgie fished out maybe ten or twelve bottles of water that Mama had been saving for just in case.

I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Kheelin. Kheelin wheezing. Kheelin wheezing loud.

I pushed the annoying sound away so I could keep sleeping. The wheezing stopped. I sat straight up.

“Dear God, he's not breathing!” Mama screamed.

“Lay him down!” Daddy hollered back. “Here, Katherine! Lay him here!” Daddy patted the wood floor with the flat of his hand.

“Why is he having so many attacks?” I screamed at no one and everyone. Nobody answered. Memaw turned her head away and stared at nothing on the floor beside her.

Daddy did CPR while Mama rubbed Kheelin's head, begging God to let her baby live.

Kheelin let out a cough and started to cry.

“Okay, that's it,” Daddy said, and got to his feet. He couldn't stand all the way up 'cause the ceiling was too low. But he sure seemed tall right then. “You children get in that corner.” He pointed to a dark area on the far side of the attic. “Katherine and Mama Jean, get over there too.”

We squished together the best we could in the crowded space.

“I want y'all to look down and cover your eyes.”

“What are you fixin' to do, Daddy?” Georgie asked.

“We're getting out of here. Now close your eyes.” And with that, Daddy went to pounding on the ceiling of our attic. I was scared that Daddy might've suffered some kind of serious damage with all the blows he'd been taking to his head. He looked like a crazy man, punching the heck out of that ceiling with his bare hands.

Georgie was on his feet, scuttling around. He picked up something and went over by Daddy. “Here, Daddy, try this.”

Daddy took it. “Where'd you find this, son?”

“Over there by them boxes.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“It's your PawPaw's old walking stick,” Memaw said. Hearing her voice sent a wave of happy through me. “You're gonna like this, George—unscrew the end of it.”

Daddy twisted the end. “Like this?”

“Um-hmm,” she said, with a twinkle in her eye. I hugged her arm. Memaw was back.

The wooden end fell to the floor. Out of the end of PawPaw's walking stick was a sharp metal spike.

“Well, I'll be,” Daddy said.

“What is it, some kind of secret sword?” Georgie asked.

Memaw sat up as straight as she could against the hard, two-by-four wood beam. “Well, somethin' like that. Your PawPaw called it his poker. He never left the house without it.” There was a look of remembering in her eye. “It wasn't safe for an old man to go off walkin' by hisself in the streets of New Orleans. Your PawPaw sure did enjoy his long walks after supper.”