\"The rescuers in the boats that picked us up had to push the bodies back with sticks,\" Phillips said sobbing. \"And there was this little baby. She looked so perfect and so beautiful. I just wanted to scoop her up and breathe life back into her little lungs. She wasn’t bloated or anything, just perfect.\"
A few hours after Phillips, 42, and five members of her family and a friend had been rescued from the attic of her second-story home in the 2700 block of Painter Street, she broke down with a range of emotions. Joy, for surviving the killer floods; pain, for the loss of so many lives; and uncertainty, about the well-being of her family missing in the city’s most ravaged quarters.
In a darkened lobby of the downtown Hyatt hotel turned refuge, she hugged an emergency worker closely; a handful of his sweaty blue T-shirt rippling from each of her fists.
She had barely gotten out a fifth thank you when the emergency worker whispered into her ear that \"it was going to be OK,\" and that \"it was our job to save lives.\"
\"I can still hear them banging on the ceiling for help,\" Phillips said, shaking. \"I heard them banging and banging, but the water kept rising.\" Then the pleas for help were silenced by the sway of the current, she said.