Many Rivers to Cross

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43 A lton Lee peeped above the sagging door chain with a flashlight in one hand and the Louisville Slugger in the other. When he recognized Pl, he unlatched the chain and stepped out onto the porch, staring at the yellow school bus humming in the dark street. ''I'll be damn," he said with a sleepy smile. "I didn't think you'd really do it, son." "Shake your old lady and wake up them kids," PJ said. "We gotta bump. The heat's probably out looking for this rig right about now." Alton shined his flashlight on the panels of dark glass. "That somebody looking out the window?" he asked. Tulane sat in one of the bus seats like a lonely third-grader. When the light hit him, he raised a hand to shield his eyes. "White dude I know. Needs a ride out of this bitch, like everybody else," PJ said. "Come on, gramps, we kicking it Old School Bus." The children were sleeping together in a spare room that must have been the Lee children's bedroom long ago. The room was hot and stuffy, even with the window open, and moonlight bathed the three small fIgures lying on top of the covers. When PJ's eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see that Baby Darius's head rested on Jasmine's chest and Edgar was curled against her ann. "Hey, girl," he said, wiggling Jasmine's ankle. "Time to wake up. We're leaving out of this place." Olive appeared in the doorway behind him, carrying two grocery bags stuffed with the food and bottled water and diapers that Alton had taken from the store. She looked more alert than her husband, as if she'd been waiting for hours with those bags in her arms. "Praise the Good Lord," she said. "1 didn't think we'd ever see you again." 327 328 Edgar was sitting up in bed now, rubbing his eyes. "Mistah Man back," he said, shaking his sister. "Wake up, Jazzy. Mistah Man back." He crawled across the covers and threw himself into PJ's anns. He smelled like that school bus seat-potato chips and pee and little boy funk. Jasmine moaned and pushed the baby aside, rising up on her eloows. "You came back," she said in a groggy voice. "Get your hustle on, girlfriend," PJ said. "We gotta load up. Y'all ever been to Houston?" Tulane climbed out of the bus to help them transport bags and blankets from the house. Alton slid behind the wheel and adjusted mirrors and the cushion underneath him, flipping on switches and checking gauges. Olive spread a blanket and pillows across the seat directly behind him, making a soft nest for her and Jasmine and Baby Darius. PJ sat across the aisle with Edgar on his lap, and Tulane stretched out on the seat behind them, digging into packages of cookies and chips in one of the grocery bags. He'd been hiding out in St. Louis Cemetery for two days, he'd told PJ, and he hadn't eaten a bite of food. "We don't have enough gas to make it to Texas," Alton announced, pointing at the gauge. "We'll worry about that on down the road," PJ said. "First thing, cap'n, scratch some rubber between this damn town and dry land." Alton shifted the bus into gear and they pulled slowly away from the somber shotgun house, heading toward the river in a low shuddering roar that echoed through the silent neighoorhood. When they reached Tchoupitoulas Street and the railroad tracks running alongside the long row of warehouses, the old man made a wide turn and steered the yellow bus toward downtown. Beyond the grainy headlights , the darkness was absolute. PJ stared out the window into shadow and emptiness and couldn't believe they were on their way. Soon they would climb the on-ramp to the Crescent City Connection and rise up high over the dark muddy river, fleeing this doomed city forever . He glanced at the young man slouched in the seat behind him, munching on something that smelled like pretzels. He and this JXlor scared white ooy had escaped the Orleans Parish Prison by the seat of their jumpsuits, and it looked like they were going to dance on out of this wet fucking sump hole without getting killed or...