Nuclear Winter Desolation: Post Apocalyptic Survival Thriller (Nuclear Winter Series Book 5)

by Bobby Akart

  Jimmy was making no effort to kick his way back to the surface. His body appeared lifeless, yet his mouth was closed, a good sign. Jessica was an excellent swimmer and diver as well. She’d saved the life of a drowning victim once before. Underwater rescue training helped, but the real-life experience of dealing with a person on the brink of death proved invaluable as she touched Jimmy.

  His reaction was not unexpected. Startled, followed by an intense desire to help his rescuer. Jessica wanted to shout to him—I’ve got this, relax! Instead, she remained calm so she could think clearly and react to his movements.

  She moved behind Jimmy’s shoulders and reached her arms underneath his arms. Jessica’s leg muscles were strong courtesy of good genetics and constant training by running in the sand. She began kicking, and the two of them moved quickly toward the water’s surface. Seconds later, they breached the plane, and Jessica quickly took in a deep breath in case Jimmy woke up and pulled them underwater again.

  Her mind tried to shut out the cries of joy and shouts of Jimmy’s name coming from all directions. There was still work to be done. She moved her hands to brace his head upright. As she did, she felt for his pulse.

  There wasn’t one. And he wasn’t breathing.

  Jessica closed her eyes briefly and then rapidly kicked her legs as she dragged him to the back of her boat. As she passed the port side, Peter and Sonny were looking over the rails, shouting words of encouragement to Jimmy.

  “Meet me at the back!” she shouted. “Grab the backboard!”

  Peter reacted first. Despite his own injuries, he was setting aside the pain he felt in order to help his friend. Sonny was crying, alternating between wiping his tears being shed for his son and gripping the railing of Jessica’s boat to get a better look.

  “Got it!” shouted Peter from the boat’s stern.

  “Sonny! I need you to help Peter. You guys need to get on the transom so we can hoist his body onto the backboard.”

  While she had been in Key West with Mike at the hospital, she’d taken some time to go to the supply depot located at the nearby sheriff’s office. She’d restocked the medications and other trauma supplies used on her water emergency team boat. She’d also taken a seventy-eight-inch orange backboard. Made of high-density polyethylene, it was not only buoyant, but the Velcro straps and head immobilizer provided her the ability to secure Jimmy in place while they dragged him on board.

  Sonny held his son’s face in his hands while Peter and Jessica positioned Jimmy on the backboard. Then the three of them pulled him over the stern and onto the deck of the boat. Jessica didn’t waste any time as she rushed to the helm.

  Her marine radio remained set to the emergency channel monitored by first responders and hospitals in the Keys. Despite the power outages, some hospitals were still operating using generators, including Mariner’s Hospital in Tavernier. She radioed them and advised she was bringing in a drowning victim.

  She had to think for a moment as to where the closest marina was located. Normally, they’d bring an accident victim into Tavernier Harbor on the Atlantic Ocean side of Tavernier. On the Gulf side, an ambulance would meet them at the closest marina.

  Peter seemed to sense her inability to remember the closest marina. “Jessica, Mangrove Marina in Hurricane Harbor. It’s less than a mile up the road.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” She turned her attention back to her conversation with the dispatcher at Mariner’s Hospital and then looked over to Hank and Erin. “Go get Phoebe!”

  Hank waved and yelled, “Thank you.” He and Erin fired up the Hatteras. After Jessica turned her boat around and took off toward Bottle Key to the south, they began their hour-long ride back to Driftwood Key.

  Jessica shouted, “Peter, drive! You know where to go.”

  She knew Jimmy needed immediate medical attention. Even small amounts of water left in the lungs can cause respiratory issues later known as dry drowning. With Peter propelling the boat along the fortunately smooth waters, Jessica began cardiopulmonary resuscitation.

  She took a normal breath, gently pinched Jimmy’s nose, and covered his mouth with her own, ensuring an airtight seal. She exhaled quickly twice, keeping a watchful eye on his chest to see if it rose. She raised her body and began chest compressions, pressing down about two inches.

  “One, two, three, four, five.” She counted to force herself to remain consistent and to give Jimmy’s chest an opportunity to rise back to normal. “Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty. Off.”

  “Why isn’t he breathing?” asked Sonny.

  Jessica ignored his question and pointed to the storage compartments underneath the bench seat on the port side of the boat. “Grab me the light blue bag in there. I need to intubate.”

  Intubation was the process of placing a specially designed plastic tube into an unresponsive patient who was unable to breathe. The flexible tube was carefully inserted into the trachea to create a conduit through which air could be forced using a large squeezable bulb.

  “Okay, I’m in. Sonny, I need you to gently squeeze this bulb to force air into Jimmy’s chest. Like this.”

  After Jessica showed him what to do, Sonny recovered emotionally and set his jaw, determined to save his son.

  “Okay,” she continued, reaching out to Sonny’s hand and squeezing it gently. “Let me try compressions again.”

  She began to pump his chest. She was halfway through the thirty-count when Jimmy’s body heaved upward, and he began to cough violently, choking on the intubation tube in the process. Jessica quickly removed it and then turned him over to his side. He immediately spit out some sea water.

  “Son, I’m here.” Sonny slid across the deck on his knees so Jimmy could see him. His eyes were open, but he was clearly disoriented.

  “Jessica! Water!” shouted Peter from the helm. He held up a bottle of water, and Jessica opened her hands to catch it when he tossed it to her.

  “I’ll need another in a second,” she said before turning back to Jimmy. “Let’s get you up and clear the gunk out of your throat.”

  She and Sonny worked together to get him upright. His eyes were darting around wildly, and mucus was dripping out of his nose. Sonny lovingly wiped his face and moved his stringy wet hair out of his eyes. Jessica slowly poured an ounce or two of water into Jimmy’s mouth, monitoring his intake so he didn’t gulp down too much.

  He coughed again, and Jessica gently patted him between the shoulder blades. She spoke in a calm voice. “That’s okay, Jimmy. This will take a few times. Slowly, okay?”

  She allowed him a little water. This time, he let the soothing moisture trickle down his throat. Jimmy closed his eyes for a moment until a single tear dripped down his cheek. Then he managed a smile and nodded.

  All he could manage was a whisper, but his words spoke volumes.

  “Love you, Dad.”

  Chapter Six

  Sunday, November 10

  Gulf of Mexico

  For several minutes after Hank sped away from where Jimmy had been found, he glanced back toward Florida Bay, trying to catch a glimpse of Jessica’s WET boat speeding toward Tavernier. He desperately wanted to be with the young man who’d grown up with Peter and practically became a part of the Albright family. Sonny, Phoebe, and Jimmy had lived on Driftwood Key for nearly three decades. They’d experienced loss together and enjoyed the island living the Keys afforded. Jimmy’s death would be devastating.

  Erin moved next to Hank on the bench seat and began to rub his shoulders. The touch of a woman caused him to break down in tears. Men tried to remain stoic in a crisis. They want to shoulder the burden of solving the problem or being the family rock—strong, solid, and unchanging.

  Yet Hank was a considerably empathetic and caring man who tried to put others’ emotional needs ahead of his own. That was one of the reasons he was having difficulty accepting the collapse of society that continued to unfold during nuclear winter.

  As the proprietor of the Driftwood Key Inn, he en
joyed tending to his guests’ needs. It bothered him that he’d had to ask them to leave in anticipation of what was coming. Deep down, he knew it was the right thing to do. His guests needed to get home before conditions worsened.

  When Patrick Hollister showed up at their doorstep, figuratively speaking, Hank readily took him in. He wanted to help a fellow conch in his time of need. Nowadays, the number of people born in the Keys, known as a conch, were outnumbered by the newcomers. Patrick was an original. He’d also turned out to be a serial killer.

  Even that experience didn’t tamp down Hank’s desire to help others survive. He simply had to change his mindset. For one, he had to ensure he could take care of his own first. That included his immediate family and, of course, the Frees. Secondly, those in need didn’t include anyone who tried to steal from him.

  As society continued to collapse, the use of violence to survive had increased beyond his wildest imagination. There had been gunfights at Driftwood Key, the kind you see in the movies. Marauders at the gate, so to speak. Hank was certain these encounters would increase as people became more desperate.

  He was relieved that his family was together again, albeit without his son-in-law, Owen. He was a good man. A loving father to Tucker and a devoted husband to Lacey. Hank had immediately hit it off with Owen when Lacey brought him home for the first time. The suddenness of Lacey’s return coupled with the search for Jimmy hadn’t given Hank time to process Owen’s death. He wondered if and when life in the apocalypse would allow them the opportunity to talk it through.

  Hank took a deep breath and exhaled. This was all weighty stuff, and he desperately wanted to clear his head before he arrived at Driftwood Key. He needed to provide Phoebe hope that her son would survive, without overpromising. When Hank saw her son last, he wasn’t breathing.

  “Hank, I feel like I know you well enough to feel the heavy burden you’re carrying,” said Erin, interrupting his thoughts. She stopped rubbing his shoulders and moved around the seat to lean against the helm, where she could study his face. “I spent enough time with you and your family those few days to know that young man is in good hands. He’ll pull through.”

  Hank managed a smile and made eye contact with Erin. He’d been laser focused on the waters ahead of him. There was a substantial amount of debris floating in the Gulf as a result of the hurricane. Because there had been little or no warning to most residents, the normal precautions weren’t undertaken to secure their belongings.

  Tears began to flow as Hank spoke. “I can’t tell Phoebe the truth, but I can’t lie either. A mother looks for words of optimism and hope when her child is injured. I can’t say he was lying on the deck of a boat, not breathing because he’d drowned.”

  “I understand. However, I believe Jessica is a very capable, take-charge first responder. In her care, I think Jimmy has a chance. Plus, we don’t know for certain; therefore, you can offer her hope.”

  Hank chuckled and wiped the tears from his face. “My father used to say things like that when he was supporting me as my wife passed away. She had many chances to live and fought hard to do so. In the end the disease defeated her.”

  “You have to channel your father’s words of encouragement, Hank. You’ve experienced grief, and from what I recall, Phoebe was there to help you through it. Think back to how she helped you when your wife was ill.”

  “She fed me,” said Hank, laughing now as he thought of those days when Phoebe would dote on him like he was her grandchild.

  Erin also laughed. “Okay, well, we don’t want you to put her in mortal danger, now do we? Perhaps you can find some other way to comfort her without invading her kitchen.”

  Hank reached out and took Erin’s hand in his. She’d gently yanked him out of his melancholy state of mind and turned him back into the rock of the family everyone relied upon.

  “Thank you. I was, um, as the kids say, having a moment.”

  “You can have a moment, Hank. You’re entitled.” Erin pointed ahead. They were approaching the dock at Driftwood Key. “It appears they heard us coming, so you’d better get your game face on. If you pull into the dock a blubbering mess, Phoebe will most likely freak out.”

  Tucker led the way, racing through the sand. His momentum caused him to stumble slightly as he hit the dock. After regaining his footing, he got into position to take the line from Erin. His eyes studied his grandfather for a clue as to what they’d discovered, if anything.

  His uncle Mike beat him to the punch. “Any news?” he asked as Erin tossed him the bow line. Mike was recovering from his knife wound and healing remarkably well. He was moving slower than normal, as he was consciously aware of his sutures and the pain associated with certain activities.

  Phoebe was crying, sobbing and struggling to catch her breath. Erin didn’t hesitate. She climbed onto the side of the Hatteras and hoisted herself onto the dock. She immediately hugged Jimmy’s mother to console her until Hank could join them.

  She forced her tone of voice to be upbeat. “Okay, we have good news. We found Jimmy.”

  “Oh, thank God,” Phoebe said as she continued to cry. She tried to wipe the tears off her face, but they poured out too fast. Her eyes darted between Erin and Hank. It didn’t take her long to realize their demeanors were subdued and not celebratory. “Is he …? Is he okay?”

  Hank moved closer and lovingly wiped the tears off Phoebe’s face. He held her shoulders and looked down into her eyes. “Phoebe, your son is a survivor. However, he’s been through a lot. For days, he’s managed to fight the hurricane and dehydration to stay afloat in Florida Bay.”

  “The bay?” Mike asked. “I thought they were in Blackwater Sound?”

  “He must’ve been pushed through the Boggies during the high winds,” replied Hank before turning his attention back to Phoebe. “Listen to me. You know Jessica. She’s the best there is at helping people outside of a hospital. They’re taking Jimmy to Mariner’s in Tavernier. Sonny is with them and so is Peter. We need to go, too.”

  Phoebe nodded her head up and down vigorously. She started to pull away and head toward the beach.

  Erin had a suggestion. “Mike, I assume your truck has sirens and lights?”

  “Yes, of course, although traffic isn’t an issue. It’s the stalled vehicles.”

  She stepped closer and kept constant eye contact with him in an effort to convey the message she needed him to understand. “Your family needs to be together. Can you drive them? You know, as quickly as possible?”

  Mike got it. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

  “I can stay here with Erin,” offered Tucker.

  “I’ll be—” she began to argue before Tucker cut her off.

  “Seriously, I’ll stay. There’s been some things happening, and you’ll need help.”

  Erin had a puzzled look on her face, but she acquiesced. Minutes later, Mike, Hank and Phoebe were racing up the highway toward Tavernier.

  Chapter Seven

  Sunday, November 10

  Mariner’s Hospital

  Tavernier, Florida

  It wasn’t an ambulance, but the E-Z go utility cart had a long enough bed to hold the backboard firmly in place atop a one-inch-thick, vinyl-coated pad. Jessica worked with Sonny and Peter to lift Jimmy out of the boat, where they passed him off to a trauma nurse and two orderlies. The trio drove away with the trauma nurse perched in the back to continue checking Jimmy’s vitals.

  “Guys, let’s secure the boat and head to the hospital,” said Peter. “It’s just over a mile from here.”

  They wasted no time in tying the boat to the dock at Mangrove Marina. Jessica also locked all of the vessel’s compartments. During the process, they’d drawn the attention of several onlookers, and she was concerned her medical gear would be looted.

  They began jogging toward the hospital. Just as they approached the end of Hood Avenue where it intersected with U.S. 1, a sheriff’s deputy drove toward them. Jessica flagged her down, and the two recognized one another.r />
  The deputy offered them a ride to the hospital, but Jessica declined. She needed a bigger favor. She asked the deputy to watch over her boat. She’d been caught in a conundrum between joining the family at the hospital and protecting her gear. The deputy understood and readily offered to watch it for an hour. She was one of many deputies with the MCSO whom Jessica and Mike had a good relationship with. After working closely together for years, they’d learned whom they could count on and trust in a crisis.

  The group ran the last quarter mile to the emergency care entrance to the hospital. The pink and tan stucco buildings surrounded by palm trees epitomized the architectural look of the Keys. The large hospital was far less intrusive on the eye than the retail strip centers and convenience stores found on both sides of the highway.

  Jessica led the way into the ER, where they found a large group of people waiting to be seen. Accident victims with injuries ranging from broken limbs to bumps on the head were awaiting treatment. A frenzied triage nurse was doing her level best to assess the injuries in order to categorize them.

  Patients had a variety of tags hung around their necks with a clip-on chain. A green tag represented someone with minimal, minor injuries. Scrapes, bruises, and shallow puncture wounds, to name a few. A yellow tag was assigned to those who could have their treatment delayed somewhat because their injuries were non-life-threatening.

  Jessica’s trained eye scanned the waiting area and the scrum of people huddled around the reception desk. She was relieved that she didn’t see any red tags provided to those who needed immediate attention—patients like Jimmy who’d suffered life-threatening injuries. Lastly, she was glad there were no body bags or gurneys with deceased patients marked with a black toe tag.