“After the storm,” Jeremy said, shaking his head and taking a long sip of coffee, “Lou wasn’t here at first. You can’t imagine the night, the darkness, the screams...the sound of gunfire. Lou got up here as quick as he could. This place was still his home, you know? Anyway, we went out from the St. Claude Avenue Bridge... I have a bass boat. By then... God, it was awful. Ninth Ward, the water was up to the rooftops. There was a guy on one of the houses, and he was pointing out places where there were people. We weren’t the only ones out there, of course, but this one man...he’d tried to help others, and then we saw that he was desperately trying to get kids out of a tiny vent, and the water was still going higher. Lou, man... Lou was the kind of guy who had to do something, and he was a good diver, even when it came to a free dive. Lou jumped off the boat and went to the vent. He got it broken open, and there were three kids in there, and he got them out just before the water kept going up. You can’t imagine that night. It was hard to get around because of the treetops, wires, electric poles... Corpses. Bodies floating in the darkness. That was the worst. We kept going. I reckon we brought in about fifty survivors, including those kids.” He hesitated.