The Pulse

“No problem. We’ll walk back with you. Casey and I can push our bikes so you can keep up.”

“Geeze, Casey,” Jessica whispered as they went inside to grab her bag out of the bedroom. “How come I can’t find a nice guy like that instead of a jerk like Joey?”

During the three-mile walk back in the direction of the Tulane campus and their apartments, Grant related some of what he had experienced in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina to Casey and Jessica and began speculating about what could happen next in a city the size of New Orleans with no power, no communications, and few working automobiles. He said it would likely become dangerous to stay in the city if these conditions continued for more than a couple of days. He mentioned the post-Katrina violence that took place throughout New Orleans after the levee broke and the city was flooded and cut off.

“But those people didn’t have a choice,” Jessica said. “They were stuck in the Superdome and everywhere else in the city and our own government screwed up and didn’t get them out in time.”

“It was a combination of things,” Grant said. “Yeah, the local, state, and federal governments could have done better, but it was really an overwhelming event no one could have prepared for. It’s also a fact that some of those people stayed behind on purpose to take advantage of the situation. Even members of the police department were looting stores and stealing new cars from the dealerships. The people who truly got stuck here against their will were mainly just waiting in the Superdome—in bad conditions to be sure, but most didn’t have bad intentions. People who had their own transportation and wanted to leave generally got out before the hurricane even hit, and well before the city flooded.”

“But don’t you think a lot of the looting and stuff happened because people lost their homes?” Casey asked. “This is different. Yeah, the lights are out and the phones don’t work, but I don’t see why it would get bad like it did after a hurricane.”

“When you think about it, Casey, what are people going to do for food in a city this size? You saw how long we had to stand in line just to get a sandwich and something to drink at lunch. And this is just the first day. I wonder how long shops like that will have anything left. I’ll bet that one we went to is already completely sold out. Think about the grocery stores. If the power is out everywhere and most vehicles are not running, the shelves will be stripped bare in no time, and with the delivery trucks not running, they won’t be restocking. There are a lot of people in New Orleans, Casey.”

“So what are we supposed to do?” Jessica asked.

“The only sensible thing to do is get out of the city,” Grant said. “There are simply too many people here. There’s no way order can be maintained. It’s just a short time before most people start panicking.”

“I don’t know where else I would go,” Jessica said. “I don’t know how I could get home if cars aren’t working and the airlines are shut down.”

“She’s from Los Angeles,” Casey explained to Grant. “And I don’t know where I’d go either…. It’s not as far to my dad’s house in Mobile—well, at least not in a car, where it would be like two and a half hours, but that might as well be L.A., if you had to walk.”

“What day was he supposed to be back?” Jessica asked. “Did you hear from him last night before the phones went out?”

“No. They left Martinique on Sunday afternoon. I think they were supposed to get to St. Thomas like tomorrow, so his flight back here was on Thursday. I knew I wouldn’t hear from him last night because they were still at sea, but now he has no way of reaching me to let me know when they get to St. Thomas. I’m worried about him, but like Grant said, a good sailor like Larry doesn’t need electronics to navigate. I’m sure they’ll be fine, but how will he get back to the States when they do get to land? I know he’s going to be worried sick about me too.”

“We can still hope the effects are not that far-reaching,” Grant said, as he started walking again to encourage them to keep moving in the direction of their apartment. “But they’re probably better off there than most anywhere else they could be, if this thing is that widespread. We’re the ones in a situation we have to worry about. I think we need to start getting ready to go and make a plan now. But regardless of when we leave, we had better get what food we can carry now.”

The only store along the way that was open was a small corner grocery on Magazine Street that was already packed with people buying everything they could snatch off the shelves. Like the sandwich shop Casey and Grant had stopped at earlier, the grocery could only accept cash purchases because there was no way to verify credit or debit cards. Grant had a little over forty dollars left in his wallet and Jessica had a single twenty-dollar bill.

“Jessica’s a vegetarian,” Casey said as Grant reached for the last two packages of beef jerky remaining on an end display.

“It’s okay,” Jessica said. “Go ahead and get what you want, it doesn’t bother me as long as I don’t have to eat it.”

“The thing is, we’ve got to get things that are lightweight, will keep without refrigeration, and, ideally, don’t require extra water to cook.”

“Hey, how about these?” Casey asked, holding up a two-pound bag of almonds.

“Those are great,” Grant said, “And vegetarian-safe,” he added with an amused smile.

They were out of cash before they had purchased more than they could carry. Grant said they had done well, though, scoring a supply of several kinds of nuts, raisins and other assorted dried fruits, some bulk-packaged granola, a couple of large boxes of oatmeal that he said could be eaten uncooked if necessary, the jerky, several packages of tuna in foil, some boxes of whole-wheat crackers, two jars of peanut butter, and a couple of large blocks of Swiss cheese that he said would hold up well without refrigeration. Most of the other customers were loading up on bulky canned goods and other items that would be impossible to carry far on foot or on a bicycle. Despite their small haul, it took nearly two hours to get in and out of the grocery store. While they were in there the dark clouds that had been threatening rain since late morning finally broke open and drenched the streets, but the downpour had let up to a light drizzle by the time they were out in it.

They tied the plastic bags on Grant’s rear rack and around the handlebars of both bikes and, pushing the bikes, made it back to Casey and Jessica’s apartment by late afternoon. Casey opened all the blinds to let in as much light as possible, and at Grant’s urging the two roommates began sorting through their clothes and shoes to find a few items that would be suitable to travel in. Casey was overwhelmed at what Grant was suggesting—that they might actually have to leave the city on bicycles. She knew Grant could do it, but she couldn’t imagine how she or Jessica could pedal for miles and miles on the open road to anywhere. But Grant wasn’t talking about just anywhere. His parents, who were currently working on an archaeology project in Bolivia, owned a small cabin on a river not too far from New Orleans. They’d used it as a weekend getaway when they were living in New Orleans for a couple of years while Grant was still in high school and his father was teaching at Tulane. That was before the hurricane destroyed their home in the city and his parents left for good.

“It’s only about 90 miles from here,” Grant said. “It’s to the north, not far across the Mississippi state line, on a beautiful stream called the Bogue Chitto River. It would be a safe place in a situation like this. My dad thought of everything. There’s a well and generator and lots of food and other supplies stored there all the time. I was up there over the holidays to get away and work on a research paper.”

“Ninety miles! I could never ride a bicycle 90 miles!” Jessica blurted.

“Sure you could, Jessica. If you can ride a bike at all, you can ride it as far as you need to. You just have to take it one mile at a time,” Grant explained.

“That’s easy for you to say,” Casey said. “You could probably ride that far in a day. But we aren’t in shape for it like you are and our bikes suck compared to yours.”

“I’m not talking about a race, Casey. We’ll take our time, and go at the pace of whoever is the slowest. If it takes two or three days, that’s okay. The main thing is that we’ll be getting out of here. We can ride out of the city and get across the Causeway the first day for sure.”

“The Causeway is 25 miles long by itself!” Jessica said.

“Yeah, you’re right. But it’s also the shortest route north to where the cabin is. When you think about it, if you can ride a mile, then you can ride two miles, three miles, and on and on. You just keep pedaling and the miles will slide on by. We’ll stop and rest whenever we need to. One good thing, with few vehicles running, there won’t be any traffic. I’ll bet there’ll be other bicyclists though—at least those who are smart enough to think of it and start moving now.”

“I just hope it’s not a mistake to leave,” Casey said. “Can’t we just go back now and buy all the groceries we can carry and bring them back here? I’ve probably got at least thirty or forty dollars in change if I dig through all my