Flood Friday Read online

  She broke away from Sally and ran back to the front of the building. Mrs. Bradford heard her cries and brought her into the health room again.

  “Come, come now,” said Dr. Otis, “this won’t do, Angela. Lie down here and rest a while.”

  He gave the girl a sedative. She stopped crying, lay down on the cot and became quiet.

  Sally went back to the gymnasium, feeling sorry for Angela. As she passed the boxes of clothing, she saw two women sorting them into piles. They were choosing clothes for the Marciano family.

  In Sally’s concern over Angela, she forgot about looking for her mother. Now suddenly, Mrs. Graham appeared in the hall. Barbara Boyd was with her and Barbara held baby Betty in her arms. Barbara took the bottle from Mrs. Graham and went back into the gym to feed the baby.

  “Where have you been, Sally?” asked Mother. “I wanted you to help with the baby. I had to ask Barbara to give her her bottle.”

  Sally put her arms around her mother’s waist and began to cry. “When are we going home, Mother?” she sobbed.

  “I don’t know, Sally,” said Mother. “Let me go now. There are people here who need me. I must go and help them.”

  “I need you, Mother,” cried Sally. “Don’t go away and leave me.”

  Mrs. Graham sat down and talked to Sally.

  “You are warm and well-fed and dry here,” she said. “Many people are in real distress. They are sick, hurt, half-drowned, homeless. Have you thought of them?”

  Sally hung her head and did not answer.

  “Don’t act like a baby,” said Mother. “I depend on you to be an example to your brothers and sister.”

  “Linda Marciano must be drowned, Mother,” said Sally. “Angela says they can’t find her anywhere. Don’t you care? What if it was Karen?”

  “Stop worrying,” said Mother. “Worry won’t bring Linda back. Go and stay with the other children. Look after Jack and Tim. Help Barbara with the baby.”

  As Sally returned to the gymnasium, she saw a man with his arm in a sling. He sat huddled over, unhappy. He was worse off than she. Her arm was not broken. He looked so sad, she asked him, “How do you feel today?”

  The man looked up, surprised, and said, “I’ll be better pretty soon.”

  “How did you get hurt?” Sally asked.

  “I hit some wires when I was swinging on that long rope,” the man said. “It broke my arm and a couple of ribs.” He smiled and added, “But I’m still alive.”

  “I’m sorry you broke your arm,” said Sally. Her concern for herself had now widened to include concern for others.

  Back in the gymnasium, she sat down beside Barbara and played with baby Betty for a while. Then she went over to the window where the boys were looking out.

  “Gee! Look out there!” cried Barbara’s brother Ronnie. “That old chopper’s working overtime. It keeps on bringin’ people in.”

  “What do you know—it’s stopped raining!” cried Tommy Dillon. “Let’s go outside. We’re missing everything by staying in here.”

  The boys went exploring, looking for an unlocked window. Soon they found one, in the small room offstage. Sally followed and watched them jump out one by one. The window was on the rear of the building, so no one saw them. The boys crept round the corner to watch the excitement.

  Sally came back and whispered to Barbara. The baby had fallen asleep now beside Mrs. Dillon, who was resting. Karen was sleeping, too, with her rag doll in her arms and Rusty curled up at her feet. Sally and Barbara went into the stage room and climbed to the window sill. Like the boys, they jumped down. They crept up to the edge of the crowd. The people were listening to reports coming in on the radio on the fire engine:

  “John Ferguson wants Alonzo Patterson to know that his hogs are O.K., safe in the barn … Mrs. Ralph Woods on Liberty Street will house a homeless family. The J. T. Websters are O.K. and can take in neighbors … Get in touch with the Red Cross about food, shelter and clothing … The Governor of Connecticut is flying over towns in the Naugatuck and Farmington River valleys to learn the extent of the damage. Hundreds of homes have been washed away, stores and industries wiped out …”

  “It’s a real flood all right,” said the man next to Sally.

  “Go to the Town Hall … ask your Civil Defense worker what you should do,” the radio voice went on. “Boil all water for ten minutes, no matter what the source, whether from spring, shallow well or artesian well. Boil all water ten minutes before using. Use one-half pound chloride of lime in three gallons of water for disinfecting … We urge you to stay off the roads. Stay in your home if you still have one … The three children of R. T. Webb of River Bend are reported missing …”

  Sally knew the little Webb boys. They had often played with Jack and Tim. “The Webb boys too!” said Barbara.

  “They didn’t say anything about Linda,” said Sally.

  The girls went over where the boys were. Ray and Ralph Marberry were there and Tony Marciano was talking to Ronnie and Tommy.

  “Me and Al floated on our backs,” said Tony, “like the firemen do, till we came to the railroad trestle. Angela was still hangin’ in the tree. I told her not to let go. When we got up on the tracks, I waved and the man saw us and come and got us. He got both of us and my mother and Angela out of the trees …”

  “How’d you like it hangin’ on a long rope?” asked Tommy Dillon.

  “Ugh!” said Tony. “I sure was scared. They can’t find my little sister anywhere. They left her in a tree …”

  A helicopter came over the school, then lowered to make a landing. A man and a woman got out. It was the Webbs without their children. Tears ran down the woman’s face.

  “I don’t like this,” said Sally. “Let’s go back. Floods are no fun at all.”

  “We can’t ever get back up to that window,” said Barbara. “It’s too high off the ground.”

  “What will we do?” asked Sally.

  Just then Sally saw her father talking to one of the firemen. Both men saw the girls at once.

  “Go back in the gymnasium and stay there,” called Mr. Graham. “Don’t let me see you out here again!” He called the boys and sent them in too.

  The children went in the front door and hurried to the gymnasium. They hated the place now more than ever. It was filled with crying babies.

  5

  SCHOOL BY NIGHT

  “WHERE’S DADDY, MOTHER?” ASKED Sally.

  “He and Mr. Dillon went to Farmington to get flashlights and candles. I don’t know when he’ll get back.”

  “Do we have to go to bed here,” asked Karen, “with all these people?”

  “Yes,” said Mother. “We’ll take our shoes and stockings off and leave our clothes on. Then we’ll lie down on these cots.”

  Sally and Karen helped the little boys get ready for bed. They both shared a cot, Jack at the head and Tim at the foot. They kicked each other, then started tickling until Mother shushed them. Bobby curled up on a cot with Rusty in his arms.

  Mrs. Graham and the girls put two cots together. Sally’s baby sister slept between her and her mother, so she would not roll over and hurt her head. Karen slept on the other side of Sally. The baby cried once, but Mother gave her a bottle and she was all right.

  The gymnasium looked stranger now than ever. Five long rows of Army cots, standing side by side, filled the floor. Here and there were baby cribs on wheels. Army blankets had been given out. Women and children in all stages of dress and undress were trying to make themselves comfortable. Some sat on the cots, doing nothing. Some laughed and talked. Others walked briskly around. A few sobbed and cried, thinking of the homes they no longer had and wondering what was to become of them. The room grew quieter as more and more families settled down for the night.

  There were no men. All of them were out helping with rescue work. Outside it was raining again. The rain made a steady tattoo on the roof.

  As darkness fell, a woman came in with flashlights, candles and matches. Sal
ly wondered if her father had brought them, but she did not like to ask. Soon, soft lights were glowing here and there over the room. Sleeping with strangers was a new experience for all. Sally lay awake long after Karen and the little ones had fallen asleep.

  Sleeping beside the Grahams was an old lady with a child. Sally did not know them. The Nelsons were in the next row and the Boyds and Dillons across the room. Sally sat up in bed several times and waved to Barbara. After the room got dark, it looked spooky with flashlights going off and on. Sally could see Ruth Nelson holding a flashlight up to a comic book, trying to read it.

  Sally began talking to Mother in a low voice.

  “Is our house gone?” she asked.

  “I don’t know if we have a house or not,” said Mother. “Daddy will tell us as soon as he finds out.”

  “When are we going back home?” asked Sally.

  “I don’t know that either,” said Mother. “We have food, drink and shelter here. We must thank God for that.”

  Sally lay quiet for a time. Then she turned to Mother and said, “Oh, I want to go home … I don’t like it here.”

  Mother reached over and patted her. “Go to sleep, dear,” she said. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

  Sally kept turning over and back again.

  “You’re not scared, are you?” asked Mother.

  “Not with you by me,” said Sally.

  “Say your prayers, dear, and go to sleep,” said Mother.

  The last thing Sally heard before going to sleep was Mother telling the boys to lie still. The next thing she knew some one was shaking her. She opened her eyes—and it was Barbara. Morning had come. Sally was surprised to find herself still at school.

  The next day was busier than ever. All morning, the people stood in line in the hall by the health room. Dr. Otis and several nurses in white caps were there giving shots. Everybody had to take one to avoid getting typhoid fever. The Grahams all stood in line and waited. Mother carried baby Betty, and Sally and Karen held Jack and Tim by the hand. Bobby brought up the rear, with Rusty in his arms. At last they got inside, and their turns came. The doctor was quick and the pricks did not hurt much. Only Tim cried.

  When they came out in the hall, there was Daddy. Mother and the children gathered round to hear his news.

  “Have we got a house or not?” asked Bobby.

  “We still have a house,” said Daddy.

  “Thank God,” said Mother.

  Mr. Graham had had to travel a roundabout way to the Town Hall in the center of town, to get his pass. He found a friend to take him in a canoe down Farmington Avenue, to see if the house was still there. The waters had receded somewhat. From the boat he could look into the broken windows.

  “You didn’t bring us any clothes?” asked Mother.

  “I couldn’t get the doors or windows open,” said Daddy. “They are all swollen shut. I might have got in the upstairs window if I’d had a ladder.”

  “How was the house?” asked Mother.

  “There’s still water downstairs,” said Daddy. “The piano is lying face down—it must have bounced around. Your cedar chest floated out to the kitchen. The table is still upright, with the new coffeemaker on it. It must have gone up and down again. The washing machine moved around and ended up in a corner. Most of the windows are broken. It’s a good thing the cellar door was left open. That’s why we still have a house. The pressure was the same inside as out.”

  “How deep was the water?” asked Mother.

  “It must have been over six feet,” said Daddy. “We’re lucky it didn’t reach the second floor.”

  “And the rest of town?” asked Mother.

  “There are only four houses left on the river side of Farmington Avenue,” said Daddy. “It’s the saddest sight you want to see. Trash and lumber, ruined cars and trucks, debris everywhere.”

  “Only four houses!” cried Mother. “All the others?”

  “Washed away,” said Daddy. “Most of those on New Britain Avenue too.”

  “Oh Daddy,” cried Sally. “Can’t we go home now? The water must be all down by today, if it was starting to go down last night.”

  “We can’t go till we are allowed to,” said Daddy. “I had to get a pass to even go and look at it.”

  “But Daddy,” said Karen. “We can’t stay here. There’s too many people. Where are we going then?”

  “I’ll tell you later,” said Daddy.

  “Let’s go to Maine,” said Jack.

  “I wish we could,” said Daddy.

  Sally was out in front of the school when a car drove up and everybody crowded around it. She went over to see. There was Fireman Leo Rogers and little Linda Marciano with her dog Tiny. The people went wild.

  “Linda Marciano! Linda has been rescued!” they cried.

  Sad-faced, weeping Angela was told the news. She rushed out of the school, gathered her small sister in her arms and wept now for joy. The little dog, Tiny, barked and barked. The fireman told his story, and everybody listened.

  He and Linda and the dog had been swept some distance from the rest of the family. Rogers put Linda into a tree, then took the belt off her dress and tied her to a branch. She held the dog in her arms. From boards floating by, the fireman made a makeshift raft. It was so shaky, he was afraid to trust it with the child. Leaving her in the tree, he called, “Wait for me, Linda. I’ll be back.” But it was a long time before he saw her again. He rode his raft until it collapsed beneath him.

  “I decided to swim for it,” he said. “Then by the grace of God an inner tube floated by. That helped a lot.”

  After swimming several miles, he finally made it to dry land. He hurried to the Farmington Firehouse and made arrangements to go up in a helicopter. Trip after trip was made, but there was no trace of Linda. The search continued all day Friday, but still Linda could not be found.

  Rescue workers refused to give up the search. Late into the night, boats continued to go out, looking for the child. At five in the morning, Saturday, Rogers set out once more in his canoe. Six hours later, at eleven o’clock, he found Linda. She was playing in the sand under the tree with her dog Tiny. She had untied her belt and climbed down after the waters receded. She had waited nearly thirty hours for him to come. Smiling up at the fireman, she said, “I thought you were never coming back, but you did!”

  He took her to shore in his canoe. Now she was reunited with her older sister and her brothers Tony and Al.

  Linda was the center of attention. All the people crowded round to ask her questions. A newspaper reporter asked her if she would appear on television.

  Linda looked down at her torn and muddy dress, at her bare black feet. “How can I?” she said.

  Then Dr. Otis came and took her in the building. She was taken to the health room for examination and rest. Later she was carried to the same hospital where her mother was.

  After the excitement over Linda died down, Sally had a headache. Mother told her to lie down on a cot in the gymnasium. Barbara and Karen begged her to come and play with them, but she did not feel like it. She could not eat, either.

  “I feel sick,” she said.

  “It must be the shot,” said Mother.

  Other children were lying on cots and mats. They did not play as hard as on the previous day. The shots were beginning to have their effect. Some were sick at their stomachs.

  When Sally woke up from a restless sleep, she heard Daddy and Mother talking about going somewhere. If only she could go home again.

  “Are we going home?” she asked.

  “No, dear,” said Mother. “You heard what Daddy said.”

  “I want to go home,” said Sally.

  “So do we all,” said Mother.

  The day passed somehow, and another night came. Sally was walking around now, though her arm still pained her.

  “Let’s go outside,” she said to Barbara.

  The Army men had lamps and chairs outside. The weather was still hot, and the nigh
t was close. Stars were shining, but people said the rain was not over. The girls sat down under the stars to get some fresh air. It was nice to see the stars shining. Maybe the sun would come out tomorrow. It would be good to see the sun again, after all the long days of rain.

  A soldier came up and said, “We need those chairs.”

  So the girls got up and went in.

  “Where are we going?” asked Sally.

  The question was in the minds of all the children.

  “I’m going home,” said Barbara Boyd. “We only had water in the cellar, and the fire department is there now pumping it out.”

  Sally and Karen looked so sad, Barbara felt sorry for them.

  “Ask your mother if you can come home with me,” said Barbara.

  Sally shook her head. “Mother won’t let us. She says, whatever happens, we’re all going to stay together.”

  By Saturday night, the river had gone down. The stream, which had been a raging torrent for two days and two nights, seemed to have emptied itself, and was now a tiny harmless trickle of water in a riverbed of rocks, boulders and debris.

  For sanitary reasons, all the families had to be evacuated from Union School. Many homeless people had already left, to go to friends on higher ground. Those who had no cars were to be given transportation.

  Again the halls and gymnasium were scenes of disorder. Army cots, temporary oil stoves and folding chairs were being moved out. Food and medical supplies were being taken to Red Cross headquarters in the Town Hall. All was noise and confusion.

  Sally heard a group of mothers talking.

  “I’m not going,” said Mrs. Dillon. Her seven children were huddled around her. “They’re just taking us to another school. I can’t go on living like this. My husband is trying to find some one to take us to Vermont, to his parents. We have no car and no way to get there.”

  Mrs. Bradford, the black-eyed woman, came up.

  “The larger families will be broken up,” she said, “and taken to private homes. We have had offers from many people in the high part of town. They are willing and anxious to take you into their homes, but not many of them can accommodate a family of seven or more people. Your children will be well cared for …”