The Canadian Civil War: Volume 4 - Mississippi Beast

Chapter 23 –

  The beast versus the bureaucracy

  A night alone with a beautiful woman, watching the river flow to the sea. We stood arm in arm on the watch tower, and then we got tired of standing and sat on a park bench, and we dozed occasionally. True, we weren’t fully alone. Paul came over to us once, looking like he wasn’t really sure he should be away from his official concession station, but he wanted to know if we still were looking for things that floated, because he hadn’t been able to find much, and he was really sorry. We told him to find some place to sleep, we would all be rescued in the morning.

  Where was I? Oh yes, a night alone with a beautiful woman, watching the mighty Mississippi flow to the sea. Just us in each other’s arms, listening to the river flow, listening to houses flow down the hill to the river to the sea. Listening to trees fall majestically down the hill to the river to the sea. Waiting for our park bench to flow majestically down the hill to the river to the sea.

  It turned out the hard part was not waiting to drown, it was trying to stay awake while we waited to drown. Wouldn’t you think fear of death would keep us awake? But it had been a long day. I had paddled a dragon boat. We had walked halfway across Kaskaskia. Elise had reported on river flowage for hours. These things are tiring. So we kept nodding off. I guess I would have been sorry if we had slept through our own drowning, but well, it had been a long day.

  Eventually dawn came. It had a lot of water to reflect off of, so maybe it came early, or maybe it was just curious to see all that had happened during the night. In any case, we got lots of light sooner than we had expected. What did we see? Lots of water. But there was also some grass left. There was probably ten feet of park left in front of our bench. The watch tower was still standing, as was the concession stand. True, the hilltop was only about one third the size it had been the day before, but the best third had been saved – the third that had us on it.

  We walked over and woke Paul up. The poor kid looked like a little drowning would have been preferable to the headache the wine had given him. But he gave it his best effort and served us pretzels and ice cream for breakfast. We still sometimes joke about pretzels and ice cream being official hilltop-didn’t-drown cuisine. Both went down pretty well.

  Having stretched our legs and eaten a fine meal, we decided it was time to work the phones again. I called home to see what was happening with Murphy Manufacturing, and Elise called the ministry to see about our rescue. As it turned out, we got good news with both calls. LeClerk had gotten most equipment and supplies up to the second floor and out of the water. We agreed a major bonus was appropriate. Oh, and my mother was pleased I hadn’t drowned. Elise learned that various departments and sub-departments had been busy during the night and many plans were already in the works. Among the plans was a plan to get us off our hilltop. We should expect rescue in under two hours. As he gave us the hour of our departure, the watch tower slowly fell west into the river. Why not have a bit of last minute drama? Elise explained that one hour might be better than two, while I went back to the concession stand to verify that there really was nothing there that floated. Paul, meanwhile, had gone back to sleep.

  So, what do you do while waiting for rescue? I checked my weather app and discovered it was still raining in Minnesota. I never liked that place. I pulled up the national news and discovered there had been a breech along the Mississippi in Kaskaskia, and flooding had occurred. Oh, and a French film star had gotten divorced from his third wife.

  Elise used the last of her battery to call Etienne one last time. He was calling a conference of leading economists to project the consequences of the flood, and he wanted her to lead it. So, she would go from a hilltop waiting to drown, to an economic conference waiting to escape an endless stream of bar graphs. She didn’t mention calling off the rescue, but I would have been tempted. Really, a room full of economists?

  An hour later we were backing ourselves closer and closer to the concession stand as the hilltop shrank, when we heard an outboard motor. I had been hoping for something a bit more substantial, after all, there was a pretty good current out here, but I decided not to tell our rescuer we would prefer to wait for the next boat. We watched him come down from the north, the current pulling him up to the island.

  Here things got a bit sticky. The water was a good ten or so feet below the hilltop, so we had to figure out how to get down to him. Paul and I held Elise’s arms and lowered her to the boat, only to have her slip out of our hands at the last minute and fall the last three feet, almost capsizing the boat when she landed. The man with the boat, a park ranger from the look of his uniform, caught Elise and helped her get into a seat in the middle of the boat. Now it was up to me to hold Paul’s arm and lower him. And, just to be consistent, I lost his arm at the last minute and he too dropped into the boat. Fortunately, with the ranger and Elise both in the boat, they were able to catch Paul and keep the boat balanced until he was settled.

  That left me. The good news was there was nobody to hold my hand and then drop me. We had already done enough of that. I decided I would climb down instead. That’s the kind of decision you make when you have been missing too much sleep. How do you “climb” down mud? You don’t. You put one foot over the side, shift your weight a bit, and suddenly the whole side of the hill gives way and you hit the water in a big muddy splash. Fortunately, not much of the dirt landed in the boat, and I didn’t land too far from the boat. I surfaced, covered in dirt, but was able to take a stroke or two and get to the side of the boat. Now we had the usual problem of how to get a person on board without capsizing, but I got around to the stern and boarded while everyone else kept their weight low.

  “Anyone else?” asked the ranger. There was barely room for the four of us in his little boat, so we were happy to tell him “no.” With that he hit the gas and we headed north to high ground.

  It may sound cool to ride a boat up a city street, but I hope I never do it again. For the first part of our ride north we were in residential streets. The water was probably six to eight feet deep, so the houses we passed were covered in muddy water up past their windows. Any part of the house that had been touched by the water was a dark brown, and I could only imagine what the insides looked like. It occurred to me I was probably looking at block after block of tear-downs. Elise was on her phone making yet another report on what we were seeing. Her battery seemed to die about midway through her report, and I got the distinct impression she was relieved she didn’t have to continue describing what she was seeing.

  What surprised me was how far the water had spread. We were on that boat for over ten minutes, and probably went thirty blocks before we got to the end of the flooded area. The ranger grounded the boat in a school parking lot, and we got out. A dozen people were waiting for Elise. She got hugs from all her colleagues. I got a blanket to cover my wet clothes. Paul got assistance from a policewoman who offered to call his parents for him. They went off in one direction; we went another.

  Elise and I were led inside the school. If the school people had been planning on summer school classes, that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. The building was full. Cots had been set up in every room, including the gym. As we walked down the hallway, it appeared the cots were fully in use. Kids were running everywhere. The room we were headed for was the auditorium. Here, tables and chairs had been set up in every open area, including the stage. Large television monitors had been hung from the walls in several locations, and rows of people sat at desks using computers. I wondered if those folks were a little embarrassed, since they were using school desks that seemed a bit too small for adults. Embarrassed or not, the twenty or so people using the computers stayed busy, engaged in constant typing. Their backs were turned to me, so there wasn’t much I could see of them, except most were wearing uniforms.

  We were led to the stage where the heavy-hitters seemed to be stationed, and we shoo
k more hands. At some point, though, it must have dawned on one of these geniuses that both of us had spent the night on a hilltop after walking across town, often through water, and even if they couldn’t see the shape of Elise’s shoes, they could see me covered with mud huddled under a blanket. Maybe we could use a shower?

  With great apologies, we were led off to the school locker rooms and showers. I have no idea how long my shower took, but when I was done, I was pretty embarrassed about all the mud I left on the floor. I had been a real mess. I wasn’t sure what to do about my blanket and all the mud I had gotten on that. In the end I just folded it up and put it to one side. Hopefully someone was working on these things. Back in the locker room, two men were waiting for me with clothes – their extra clothes apparently. We were close enough in size that I was able to take a couple articles from each.

  I have no idea who invented the shower, but if ever an invention warranted the Nobel Prize, that was it. I can’t tell you how much better I felt after a shower and a change of clothes. They also tried to get me some breakfast, but having had my pretzel, I was good. That left them trying to determine what to do with me. They seemed uncomfortable bringing me back to the auditorium since I was not a ministry employee. They suggested I check in with the people assigning cots, but I was having none of it. If Elise was going to be in the auditorium, so was I. I headed back up the hallway to the auditorium with my handlers in hot pursuit. If I was going to be banned from the room, I would have it done by guys in uniform.

  As it turned out, there was no drama at the door. The two uniforms keeping the kids and tourists out of the room were happy to let me in. I took advantage of the opportunity to wander the room and look over shoulders at various screens while I waited for Elise to return. She’s pretty fast, but unless they had a high speed hair dryer, it was going to be a few more minutes before she was back.

  Elise’ boss, Etienne Marchant spotted me and came down from his perch on the stage. I have no idea why I don’t like the guy, but I don’t. Of course the fact that he kept my fiancée away from me twenty hours a day might be partially to blame.

  “I am so pleased you are both safe.” His smile seemed genuine. Why didn’t I care?

  “Thanks for sending a boat.” We shook hands and then just stood looking at each other. I didn’t have anything else to say, did he?

  “Elise’s reports were crucial last night. We had people in several other places, but no one near where you were. She really helped with our understanding of the flood.”

  “She is very dedicated to her work. And to her country.”

  “Many people are dedicated. Few are dedicated and as talented as she. She is invaluable to her country.”

  “I see her talent. I also see how tired she is some days. You might give some thought to her workday.” You can imagine how well that suggestion went over. Marchant was deep into his fifties, and I assume had been a senior minister for most of his life. Did he want to have his work assignments questioned by a man barely over thirty, and an American at that? Nope. He maintained his smile, but it suddenly seemed a mask to me. Had I just hurt Elise’s career? Maybe, but I was right about her workday. Crisis or no crisis, you can’t work people to death.

  “I appreciate your concern. It is admirable. I will do what I can.” And that was all he had to say about that or about anything else. He suddenly heard someone calling to him, and he was off. I stood looking around the room, waiting for Elise. Maybe pretzels and ice cream weren’t the best idea for breakfast after all. They made me grumpy and confrontational.

  Then Elise appeared and immediately improved my mood. She was also wearing someone else’s clothes, but that other person never looked as good in that dress. She walked right up to me, gave me a kiss, and congratulated me on finally looking Canadian. I liked the kiss, but did this mean I was going to have to wear the local styles now? I hoped not.

  We had about two seconds to talk before one of the uniforms walked up to us. “Minister, we have a briefing prepared for you.” Elsie followed him to a corner of the room. I followed along. I figured if they didn’t want me there, they would tell me fast enough. As it turned out, there was no problem. There was a laptop computer on a small table, and the uniformed man sat on one side of the table while the two of us sat across from him. He turned the laptop so we could see, and then jumped into the briefing.

  “I understand you will be meeting with the economists to evaluate the economic damage this will do to the country. I will focus on the logistical damage. The short version is simple. We have been hurt very badly.” And with that, he was off on a thirty minute description of the disaster. What was the problem? Everything. If the river was going to flood, the worst place was Kaskaskia, and the worst time was now. With the river dammed up by the fallen bridge, all river traffic was halted, but with the bridge down, so was much of the road traffic. National Highway 1, which he assured us had always been too close to the river, was under water in two locations and washed out in another. And to put the icing on the cake (that was his metaphor, leave it to the French to invoke food), the main rail lines south were also under water. Basically, the country was broken in the middle.

  We asked about speed of repairs and he explained much was being worked on, but there was another problem that might be worse. Kaskaskia was not just a place where goods passed through, it was a place where they were stored, repackaged, redirected, even remanufactured. The entire warehouse district on the Illinois side was under water. The warehouses on the island were gone. The Missouri warehouses were intact, but cut off. Even if the river and the roads were fixed tomorrow – and they wouldn’t be – it would be months, or longer, for the warehouses to be rebuilt or repaired. In sum, it was not an overstatement to say yesterday Canada had lost its industrial capacity. Over the next three months, Canada would grind to a halt.

  Just for a second, I wondered if we would have been better off if we had just stayed on our hilltop park. The wine had been pretty good.

  But Elise had different ideas. “That’s not going to happen.” She stood up and walked directly to the stage. There was some confab of top level people gathered around a table. She found a chair, pulled it to the table, and said loud enough for me to hear across the room, “Let’s talk about what we are going to do.”

  I stayed with the uniform. “That’s my fiancée.” I announced.

  “Did she really shoot seven terrorists?”

  “She did what she needed to do. And that’s what she will do here too. In the meantime, do you mind finishing your briefing? What is the response planned so far?” The uniform moved through some images on his laptop.

  “Here is the most recent image of the affected area. You can see how far it has spread. We have crews working on the downed bridge. Sections of it should be blown out yet today. We also have a barge coming in with concrete sections to start closing the breech. Our best guess is the breech will take five days to close. But that doesn’t solve the river problem. Once we get it back in its banks, we still have all the debris that has collected in it. Basically we will have to scour thirty or forty miles of river to clear out trees, cars, houses, and everything else, before river traffic can resume.”

  “And the warehouses? What is your plan there?”

  “We don’t have a plan yet. We are still trying to determine the level of damage. We hope to get a few people into that area later today.”

  “Maybe I can help there. Do you have a phone I can use? Mine took a bath.” He gave me a khaki colored phone (yes, they really have such things), and I dialed up my father. He was pleased to know I had left the park where I had been viewing the flood (I didn’t tell him the park was now part of the flood), and yes, Jacques LeClerk was already back in the warehouse. He and several of his foremen had taken their fishing boats in. I got LeClerk’s number and called. We spoke briefly, and then I handed him off to the soldier who se
emed very excited to talk with anyone in that area. Their conversation lasted a full fifteen minutes, with the soldier taking notes as quickly as he could write. I could hear most of the conversation, and it seemed mostly positive. Two cars had drifted into the loading dock and crushed the doors there, and one large truck was on its side, but the inside of the warehouse was in pretty good shape. Having seen how proud LeClerk was of his conveyor belt system and pallet elevator, I imagined the pleasure he must have felt that his best systems had not been damaged yet.

  Finally the soldier finished with his questions and he gave the phone back to me while he gathered up his notes and went looking for his superior. I asked LeClerk what he needed from me or from the home office. He already had a list ready, and in fact had already emailed it to Philadelphia before my call. I should not have been surprised. Whoever had picked this guy for site manager knew what he was doing.

  Done with my phone call, and left alone, I decided maybe I would look for one of those cots after all.