The Last Storm

by Jack Hunt

  His mind flashed back to Fallujah and when the platoon he was patrolling with came under attack from two of the Afghans that were meant to be helping them. They called it a green-on-blue attack — something that was becoming all too familiar in the Middle East. It was strange what kinds of thoughts went through his mind when pushed into stressful situations. Fortunately he didn’t suffer from PTSD but that didn’t mean he wasn’t affected by what he’d seen. It haunted every soldier.

  Alex unzipped the bag and looked inside. It was hard to imagine that people could go to such lengths for drugs. He zipped it up and rose to his feet. This was a situation for SWAT. A Glock certainly wasn’t going to cut it. They were packing serious heat. Alex looked out into the wall of white. He squinted at the sight of tiny figures in the distance. He couldn’t tell if it was people or logs floating across the water. Snow blew around in the air making it hard to see. Slowly but surely he could tell that it was a group heading their way. Their heads were bowed, and they were clinging to each other like school kids in a line as they pushed against the gale force winds and waded through the ever-increasing water. At first he felt a smidgen of hope. It had to be Solomon. Then it dawned on him. If they entered the building, there was a good chance they wouldn’t survive. He unlocked the window and tried to pull it back but it was frozen solid. “C’mon, you bastard!”

  After witnessing what little impact a steel fire extinguisher did to the glass in the basement, he didn’t even bother to try using a chair. All he could do was look on as they got closer. Try the next apartment, he thought.

  He hurried out, pausing only to look both ways and listen for the men patrolling the hallways. Alex darted out and headed into the next apartment. Not wasting a second he tried again to open a window but it was frozen solid. The temperatures had dropped so dramatically overnight that it was pointless to keep trying.

  He banged his fist against the window, despondent and overwhelmed.

  All he could do was watch as the group got closer to the entrance.

  They climbed the steps and began pounding on the doors.

  Seconds turned into minutes and those closest to the entrance took a few steps back. Were they giving up? Had the men inside flashed their guns? It didn’t matter because if they stayed out there any longer they were going to die. He watched as a hard wind blew into them forcing them up against the steel railing. In the distance, Alex saw a huge surge of water push in from the bay, filling up the streets even faster and causing the water to rise higher.

  It didn’t take long to reach the Begich building. When it hit, the group braced themselves against the railing — a pointless endeavor. Within seconds two of them were washed away, carried off by the dark waters. One second they were above the surface and the next, gone. The remaining survivors could do nothing except cling to the railing for dear life. One of them pushed his way up and banged on the doors but they weren’t answering. No one was getting in, and no one would get out.

  Another sudden surge of water battered them and hands gave way, and the remaining group were forced off the steps and down into the streets, bobbing up and down until they could no longer tread water.

  Alex watched the last one vanish and his heart sank.

  He slowly banged on the glass, letting out his frustration.

  What hope lay beyond the building was gone, at least from what he could tell. He pushed away from the window, distraught and lost in the weight of the situation. Dealing with these assholes was hard enough with a team but without assistance what hope did they have? He considered for a moment handing over the bag and rolling the dice on what Kip had said. There was no telling if it would work or not but something told him not to. Call it a gut instinct gained from years of facing the enemy. He opted to hold on to the heroin in the hope of using it as a bargaining tool.

  First things first, he would divide it up, so in the event he was caught he’d still have some leverage, as right now that was all he had going for him.

  Chapter 12

  Despite Whittier’s many flaws, there was one upside to living in a harbor town — an abundance of vessels. The damn things were everywhere. Large yachts, modest fishing boats, through to kayaks. The ones that had been taken out of the water and placed on trailers were okay but smaller boats were floating in the streets. The cold water was now up to his waist and had made the lower half of his body numb. Shivering, they reached Prince William Sound Kayak Center which was surrounded by vessels. They cleared off heavy snow from the top of a boat cover, before peeling the cover back and entering the 12-foot aluminum boat. He got in first and extended a hand to Scott. Both of them were losing body heat fast and were liable to die if they didn’t find somewhere warm. They’d underestimated the cold, the water level, and the weather that was getting worse.

  Once Scott climbed in they lay back looking up at the overcast sky, grateful for even the slightest bit of relief. Solomon’s lips had turned a light shade of blue and his teeth were chattering. The snow continued to fall, thick and heavy with a fast westerly wind sweeping up icy needles in their faces. Solomon gasped and shivered again, he couldn’t stop. The boat bobbed in the water and Solomon told Scott to put on one of the lifejackets in the front while he tried to get the motor running. His fingers were in so much pain from the cold he could barely clench a fist. He squeezed the ball on the fuel line to get some gas in the motor, then pulled the choke out, and made sure it was in neutral. He yanked on the cord to start the engine and it spluttered, he tried again and this time it started. Solomon let the engine warm up for a couple of minutes before he pushed the choke in. He pushed the lever to put it into reverse and backed it up before tearing away through the water heading for Whittier Manor.

  The water churned up behind the boat leaving a wake that was white and frothy.

  The boat powered down Eastern Avenue before they turned onto Depot Road with the plans of going around to Blackstone Road. They couldn’t have gone past the Buckner building as it was up on a steep incline and the water hadn’t yet risen that high so they headed on hoping to sweep around the far side.

  Solomon gawked at how much of the town was now underwater. The railroad couldn’t even be seen and there was no defining line between the bay and the town except for areas that were closer to the foot of the mountain. As they brought the boat around onto Blackstone, they heard Parker long before they saw him.

  “Hey!” his voice bellowed. “Over here.”

  As they couldn’t get close enough because the water still hadn’t reached the apartment level they stopped and beckoned him to come down.

  “No, we’re good. Come on up.”

  “They want us to get back in the water? Are they mad?” Scott asked.

  Solomon turned off the motor and rolled out into the frigid waters. “Right now all I care about is getting warm.”

  “But they don’t have any power.”

  “C’mon,” Solomon said tugging a rope at the end of the boat and tying it off around a tree. Scott eased out of the boat and they waded through the water until they made it onto higher ground where it was dry. They were met at the entrance of the two-story green and cream apartments.

  Parker brought out with him Ted Manning, a local fisherman and several thermal blankets. He and Ted covered them and ushered them into a house. While it wasn’t warm it was dry and out of the howling winds. Ted struggled to shut his front door and had to press his body against it before he could lock it. Once inside Parker started yakking. Lucas Parker had been with the department for close to fifteen years. He was usually first on scene if there was an issue and extremely good at talking people down from a ledge. He’d originally been an EMT so his familiarity with troubling situations made him a perfect candidate for the police.

  “Ted, grab some more blankets. You guys are going to need to get out of those clothes before you come down with pneumonia.”

  “You okay?” Solomon asked.

  He chuckled. “You’re asking me? I’m fine. At least I’m
dry.”

  “I told you not to go out.”

  Lucas’s brow pinched together. “And leave these people?”

  “How many are still here?”

  “Some of them left when they saw the water getting close. Did you see anyone out there?” Ted asked returning with more blankets.

  Solomon shivered and shook his head. “Nope. The water is still rising. We won’t be able to stay here much longer.”

  “It’s going to take a while to get up to this level.”

  “You’d be surprised. It was ankle deep for about ten minutes, then a huge wave took it up to waist level,” Scott said. Ted went across the room and pulled out a bottle of bourbon and poured two fingers into glasses before handing them over.

  “Get that down you.”

  Solomon winced after knocking it back. “Oh that’s good,” he said.

  “Another?” Ted asked.

  Scott nodded. “So what do you know about this storm, Ted?”

  “Why are you asking me?”

  “You fish these waters. It’s your job to know,” Scott said.

  While he poured out another he continued talking. “Look, the weather forecast for the week didn’t look like anything out of the ordinary. This is as much a mystery to me as it is to you.”

  “I know someone who might know,” Solomon said.

  Lucas chimed in. “Don’t say Kip. That guy has all manner of things rattling around in his brain.”

  “Actually I wasn’t going to say that. I was referring to Bud Jenkins.”

  “Yeah, right. He’s probably washed away like the rest of those people out there.”

  “Not Bud,” Solomon said. “If anyone could survive this it would be him.”

  “Oh because he’s a prepper or because he’s mentally unstable?” Ted laughed as he brought back their glasses. Solomon downed his. He was starting to feel better. The cold chilled him to the bone but being out of the wind was helping. He peeled out of his wet clothes and Ted took them to squeeze out the water.

  “Not much point you doing that. We’ll have to get back in the water if we want to help those over at the towers.”

  “Help them?” Ted asked standing at the foot of his stairs. “If these waters rise anymore we need to leave. There’s no time to save people.”

  Solomon looked up at him. “There are young kids, seniors, and families in that building. Besides, I’ve got another officer out there. I’m not leaving him.”

  Ted scoffed. “Oh him. Yeah, heard about the new addition. I bet he wished he’d gone elsewhere now. Like they say…”

  “Don’t say it, Ted,” Scott said.

  “No place shittier than Whittier.”

  Scott groaned and pulled the blankets around him tighter.

  “You two might want to cuddle each other,” Ted said.

  “What?” Scott shot back.

  “To get your circulation moving. Go on, Lucas, get in there and give them a rubdown.”

  Lucas tossed him the bird and Ted laughed as he trudged up the stairs.

  “Lucas, how many others are here?” Solomon asked.

  “Like he said, they’re gone. The old lady who I originally came for died. By the time I got here she was already out cold.”

  “Seniors will be the first to go,” Scott said. “We’re going to see more of that by the end of the night.”

  “I hope not,” Lucas said. “I had to pull Jamie away from his grandmother. I tried to console the guy but he took off. Haven’t seen him since.” He pulled out a packet of cigarettes and banged one out.

  “I thought you’d given that up,” Solomon said.

  “That vape shit you recommended was terrible,” Lucas replied, puffing away.

  They sat there in the silence warming up for close to twenty minutes.

  “Wasn’t there a generator in this place?” Scott asked.

  “Should have been,” Lucas said. “But there wasn’t. Seems the owner thought it was an unnecessary cost.”

  “For Whittier?” Scott asked. “Crazy.”

  “By the way where are the others?” Lucas asked

  “They headed over to Begich Towers.”

  Lucas nodded and leaned back in a recliner chair. “Probably the best place to be right now. Highest place in Whittier besides the mountain.”

  “Well that’s the thing, I was going to manually open the four gates in the tunnel but with all this water, there’s no point. Our best bet is to head over there, reassure the families and hunker down until this storm passes.”

  Knowing they had already searched through the lower rooms, Alex rooted around in the apartment for a bag, any bag he could use to divide up the drugs. He found a grocery bag and threw four bricks into it, then looked around for a place to stash it. It was going in the ceiling but he wanted it in an area where it wouldn’t be easily found. Entering the bedroom he walked over to the closet and looked inside. He pulled over a chair and hopped up onto it and pushed up a tile and squeezed the bag into place, then closed it and stepped back to make sure nothing looked out of place.

  Satisfied he backed out of the room. As he did he stepped on a mirror that had been overturned and it shattered below his boots. In the seconds after, he heard a voice, then boots running down the hallway. Alex’s nostrils flared as he hurried to find a place to hide. He ducked down behind an overturned sofa and lay quietly as the person entered the apartment. Right then he noticed he didn’t have the duffel bag over his shoulder. It was at the far end of the sofa, with the zipper undone.

  “You might as well come out,” a gruff voice said.

  Twisting ever so slightly so he could see the bag, he tried to move towards it to pull it out of the way. His breathing became rapid, and he knew this guy wasn’t walking out of here until he’d performed his search. Using a piece of broken mirror, Alex lifted it to try and get a bead on the guy. He couldn’t see anything. He could hear him and roughly judge where he was but each time he tried there was no one there.

  A door was kicked and in the seconds after, Alex stuck up the piece of mirror above the sofa and then brought it back down. Sure enough he was on the far side of the room about to enter the bathroom. Alex shuffled along behind the sofa and waited until he entered the bathroom to toss the bag across the room. It hit the ground landing somewhere in the middle of the room, zipper open, drugs exposed. Still using the shard of mirror he watched as the man darted out expecting to find someone only to glance down and see the bag. His eyes widened and a smile came across his face. That momentary distraction was all Alex needed. He wheeled around the sofa and fired two rounds; one struck him spinning him to the ground. Alex darted up and was heading for him when he unleashed a flurry of rounds back that peppered the wall behind him. Hitting the tiled floor on his knees, he fired three more rounds, each one hitting its mark, ending his pitiful life.

  Without a second to lose, he scooped up the guy’s gun, any ammo he had on him, his radio and the duffel bag and darted out of there heading for the stairwell.

  The gunfire would have easily been heard.

  Sure enough, the very moment he entered the stairwell he heard the door open on the level below. Alex ascended the steps keeping his back against the wall.

  Chapter 13

  In an empty apartment on the fifteenth floor, Cayden unleashed his fury. He upended a table, rammed a lampstand into a cupboard, and smashed a chair against the wall. Leon looked on thinking it was hilarious. The guy was coming apart at the seams and yet he refused to listen to anyone. Cayden stopped destroying furniture and pulled out a small baggie of coke and created a line on the table. He rolled a hundred-dollar bill and snorted it up.

  “Are you done?” Leon asked.

  Cayden scowled at him as he wiped the white powder from below his nose and looked out the window. He banged his fist slowly against the window. It was just the two of them in the apartment.

  “It’s in here. I know it is.”

  “What the hell has happened to you, man?” Leon asked.
/>
  “Nothing.”

  “Bullshit. You never used to be this way. It’s like you’re driven by some kind of demon.”

  Cayden snorted.

  “I’m serious. It’s not like you’re hurting for money. You could walk away from all of this and never have to work again in your life.”

  “Are we back to that again, Leon?”

  “Yeah, we fucking are! How about for once you stop pushing the topic to one side and actually address it? You remember when we were kids?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Do you remember us saying if we ever made a million we would stop working and go enjoy life?”

  He groaned. “We were too young, Leon. We had no concept of money. A million dollars doesn’t get you anywhere in this world.”

  “Well how much does? Five, ten, a hundred? At what point do you think it’s okay to slow down and stop chasing the money? Can’t you see what it’s doing to you?”

  “What’s it doing to me, Leon, huh?” Cayden asked walking over to the sofa, slumping down and pulling out a metal canister. He screwed off the top and took a swig before offering Leon some. It was his own personal flask of bourbon that he was in the habit of carrying around.

  “It’s destroying you. You’ve lost your marriage and your kid.”

  “She was cheating on me,” Cayden said.

  “I wonder why? Huh? You ever thought of that? You spend all your time chasing the next big deal and acting as though if you don’t get to the next one the world is going to cave in on you, but you don’t realize it already has. We never signed up for this. We said we would get in, make our money and get out. That was always the agreement.”

  “Agreement? Shit, Leon, we were just kids. We had no idea of the responsibilities.”

  “Fuck the responsibilities. You have paid your dues, you’ve done your time. We aren’t getting any younger, Cayden, and I certainly don’t want to end up spending the rest of my days behind bars.”

  “It won’t happen.”