by Bobby Akart
“Most importantly, I need to touch base with the mayor. Mike indicated he goes into his office every morning. I don’t know why, but I need to get him on board with us.”
“What about the business owners and this gang?” asked Lacey.
“Let me get a feel for what’s going on with these break-ins,” replied Mike. “Once I know what I’m dealing with, we can discuss how to stop them with the use of civilians.”
For the next hour, the group talked about the likelihood of their success. In the end, they agreed with Hank’s statement. It was often repeated and represented the feelings of many freedom-living Americans.
“I’d rather die on my feet than live on my knees.”
Part III
Day twenty-six, Tuesday, November 12
Chapter Nineteen
Tuesday, November 12
Driftwood Key
They say it’s always darkest before the dawn, and the families who’d finally found their way home to Driftwood Key were prepared to put the pains they’d suffered over the last few weeks behind them. Even with Peter and Jimmy on the mend, Hank hoped to bring everyone together for breakfast that morning to create a routine, some semblance of normalcy, during a catastrophic event that would become increasingly difficult to survive.
He took on the leadership role not unlike the coach of a high school football team would. He had to rally his team to do more than play a game on a crisp, fall Friday night under the lights. He had to convince his charges they could survive the chilly days that had been thrust upon them courtesy of nuclear winter. As they settled in for a breakfast of oatmeal, unusual for the Florida Keys at any time of year, Hank laid out the roles for each member of his team.
“Jimmy, you’re healing up nicely,” said Hank as he passed a bowl of sugar toward the young man who was the last to be seated. Jimmy said good morning to everyone and smiled at Hank.
“Peter and I were just talkin’ about it,” he said in a loud whisper as he took his first bite of sugar-coated oatmeal. Phoebe had warned everyone that oatmeal and Cream of Wheat would become a staple of their morning meals. She and Sonny had purchased as much as they could find in those days leading up to the collapse. The two healthy breakfast foods were also easy to prepare when power was scarce.
“He’s about a couple of days behind me in terms of recovery,” added Peter in order to allow Jimmy to slowly eat his oatmeal. His throat was still sore from the ordeal whereas Peter’s had substantially recovered, as had his strength. “Whadya think, Jimmy?”
“Crazy as this sounds, I want to get back into the water to practice holding my breath,” he replied. “The doctor couldn’t really tell me if I had lung damage. The only way I know how to find out is to test them.”
Phoebe rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Let’s not, son. Okay? You don’t need to do any skin diving right now.”
“Mom, I’ve already been challenging myself while lying in bed. I’m up to six minutes.”
His mother playfully swatted him on the shoulder and the back of the head with both hands. “Don’t stress me out!”
“Okay! Okay! I was better off swimming with the sharks.”
“Sharks?” asked Tucker. “I didn’t know …” His voice trailed off.
“I saw one, I think,” Jimmy answered. “We have them, but they don’t bother anyone. And who knows, I could have imagined it. I was getting kinda loopy out there.”
Hank stepped in because he wanted everyone to look forward, not back. “So here’s what I was thinking. Mike and Jessica will continue their duties working with the sheriff’s department. Officially, they’ve been assigned Marathon and the surrounding Keys from Seven Mile Bridge to Lower Matecumbe Key. As we all know, their focus will be on our protection and acquiring supplies for us.”
Mike interrupted. “The sheriff’s office is in disarray, and I’m continuing to receive information about their activities in Key West. It’s simply a matter of time before Lindsey and the MCSO SWAT team moves up Seven Mile to knock on the doors of our neighbors.”
“And maybe us,” added Hank. “Erin and I have a plan, as we’ve discussed, to rally people opposed to Lindsey’s activities. Our efforts will begin today with Mrs. Morton, who can tell us what our options are. Also, we’ll be touching base with the mayor, business owners in Marathon, and friends of our family. The goal is to push back against Lindsey. If we can’t stop her, then at least we can confine her confiscations to the Lower Keys and Key West.”
“What do you want us to do, Dad?” asked Lacey.
“Well, I’d like to divide the rest of you into two groups. Sonny, Phoebe, and Jimmy will do what they’ve always done for Driftwood Key. Jimmy’s fishing duties will wait until we feel he’s close to one hundred percent. When he does resume fishing, it will be on the buddy system. Nobody leaves the key alone. No exceptions.”
“Okay,” Peter confirmed. “Can I assume Lacey, Tucker, and I will handle security and fill in as needed elsewhere. I’m not much for fishing, but I can work with Jimmy when the time comes.”
“Just like the old days, right?” said Jimmy with a grin. He offered his fist to Peter, who bumped it in return.
“Yep. I’ll drink beer while you reel ’em in.”
Jimmy shrugged and grinned. The two friends were reliving their glory days growing up on Driftwood Key.
Hank rolled his eyes and shook his head disapprovingly. He had two teenagers on his hands once again.
Tucker spoke up. “Uncle Mike, would you or Aunt Jess have some time to show me how to use all the weapons? I kinda learned on the fly, if you know what I mean.”
Mike glanced at Lacey, who nodded her approval. “Over the last few weeks, he’s been forced to grow up. I never thought he’d learn to fire weapons before he got his driver’s license, but that’s what we have to do. Honestly, I could use a refresher course, too.”
“Same,” added Peter.
Mike patted Jessica on the arm, who nodded. “Deal. However, dry fire only. We can’t risk attracting attention, and we certainly can’t afford to burn through our ammo. It’s not like we can run out and buy more. That said, I will try to procure more from the MCSO supply depot in Key West if I go that way.”
“Aren’t you planning to stick around here?” asked Sonny.
“Absolutely, unless the sheriff sends someone to bring me to his office or something,” replied Mike. “What I don’t want is him coming this way nosing around. I don’t know how long Jess and I can keep up this charade.”
“Hopefully, long enough for Hank to work his magic on the other residents of Marathon and then Islamorada,” interjected Erin. She glanced around the table. Everyone had finished their oatmeal, so she turned to Hank. “We should get going. It’ll be a full day.”
“I want both of you carrying weapons,” said Mike with an authoritative tone. In matters of security, Hank would always defer to his brother. “Handguns with backup magazines are mandatory. Also, at least one long gun. A shotgun would be best.”
Sonny spoke up for the first time. “Hank, Jimmy and I can do some fishing today. Close to the shore, of course.”
“That would be great if Phoebe agrees,” said Hank. “Just keep your eyes open.”
Everyone confirmed what their roles were and set out for the day. In Key West, another group was about to take on a job they never imagined doing on American soil.
Chapter Twenty
Tuesday, November 12
Key West
Sergeant Jorge Rivera was an eleven-year veteran of the Monroe County Sheriff’s Department. He’d always been loyal to Sheriff Jock and had even petitioned his fellow officers on the force to support Lindsey during her first mayoral campaign. When the sheriff sat down with Lindsey to discuss the mechanics for executing the raids, Rivera was a logical choice to lead the members of the SWAT team. They were perfectly suited to breach the buildings that were to be raided that day.
Their first early morning stop would be a brazen raid upon a local rest
aurant supply store just a quarter mile away from the U.S. Coast Guard facility on Whiting Avenue. Despite the standoff between the Helton administration and Mayor Lindsey, as the hurricane approached, the USCG facility had been ordered to bug out. A small contingent of base police was left behind to guard the base and would be witness to the activities.
Sergeant Rivera did not expect to run into any meaningful opposition as he conducted his raids. Between the earlier unrest and the hurricane, all of the businesses had shuttered their doors and windows to protect their inventory. Except for a few notable, national companies like Publix, Winn-Dixie, and Walgreens, the businesses were owned by locals.
The omissions on his lengthy list were obvious to Rivera, who was keenly aware of the political affiliations of most business owners in the Lower Keys and Key West, his district. The restaurant supply store’s owners had been a vocal opponent of Lindsey’s policies, and therefore it came as no surprise they’d be targeted first.
Sergeant Rivera addressed his team leaders, all chosen because of their loyalty to him and Sheriff Jock. Loyalty secured by promises of receiving a greater portion of the seized goods than ordinary citizens.
“We’ve prepared for this, and it’s time to execute. Team A will hit the front entrance and clear the building. Once the all clear is received, team B will position our box trucks at their loading docks while team C takes up perimeter security. Understood?”
“Yes, Sergeant!” the three team leaders replied in unison.
Sergeant Rivera continued. “Team A, once the perimeter is secured, we’ll move on to the next location, where two more teams are at the ready. This will be a systematic, efficient sequence of raids designed to catch these people off guard. The idea is to avoid confrontation and an escalation of hostilities.”
During the prior two days, the sheriff’s office sent out deputies with iPads to photograph the perimeter of each target building and its surroundings. The computer tablet was then given to Sergeant Rivera, who intended to study it as he moved from one raid to another. His breach team would be under his direct command while the teams assigned to emptying out the businesses and perimeter security were left on their own.
Rather than undertaking the raids at night, Sergeant Rivera wanted the benefit of the minimal daylight nuclear winter afforded him. He expected each location would draw curious onlookers, and he wanted his perimeter security teams to be able to make adjustments if something went awry.
The team leaders rejoined their groups, and Sergeant Rivera spoke into the microphone of his encrypted two-way radio. “All teams are confirmed ready. Shock and awe, people. Team A, hit it!”
Years ago, the U.S. government had begun selling off its decommissioned military vehicles. Monroe County had purchased four urban assault vehicles that had never been used except in training exercises. Team A now operated three of them to undertake the initial breaches of the buildings. The fourth remained at the administration building together with a sizable security contingent. Lindsey wanted her castle protected.
The urban assault vehicles raced toward the one-story structure at a fairly high rate of speed. At that hour of the morning, very few people were awake, but the hyped-up drivers were at their highest state of awareness.
After skidding to a stop, three men emptied out of the rear of the vehicles and approached the front entrance. The breach team was made up of SWAT team members and firefighters experienced in extraction methods.
Three SWAT team members with automatic weapons arrived at the plywood-covered plate-glass doors and windows facing the parking lots. The firefighters used cordless saws and their Halligan tools to cut through the plywood. A Halligan was a steel tool used by firefighters and law enforcement when forcible entry was required in an emergency. One of the most important fire rescue tools, it had a two-prong fork used as a claw on one end and a combination spike-duckbill on the other.
With incredible efficiency, the firefighters on team A removed all the sheets of plywood that had been installed to protect the building from the storm and looters. Seconds later, without regard to the damage they were causing, they broke out the panes of glass, allowing the SWAT team members easy access.
Illuminated flashlights sent beams of light dancing throughout the interior of the building. The law enforcement officers called out to anyone stowed away inside, warning them to show themselves or risk getting shot. In less than five minutes, team A had breached the largest restaurant supply store in Key West and gave the all-clear announcement.
Pleased with himself, Sergeant Rivera ordered the other teams to move in, and with the efficiency of a swarm of locusts in a wheat field, they stripped the business of anything left of value.
A large crowd of onlookers gathered at the first target and each location thereafter to beg for a handout or to enter the buildings after the MCSO teams pulled out. They were emaciated and suffering from illness brought on by the lack of nutrition. Their dark, sullen eyes told the story. They were days away from starving to death after running out of their own food supplies.
Sergeant Rivera tried to put the images out of his mind. Their desperation emboldened him to move on to the next target on the list. And the next. And the next. By the time they reached Gordon Food Service on Roosevelt Boulevard, word of the raids had spread throughout Key West. At each stop, the crowds not only became larger, but some also cheered on the SWAT teams.
Thrilled at the success of his raids, Sergeant Rivera and his three armored assault vehicles rolled into Conch Plaza to enter the Gordon Food Service Store. What they encountered was more than resistance. It was a full-frontal assault by the owners and their hired guns.
Chapter Twenty-One
Tuesday, November 12
Tarpon Harbour Apartments
Marathon
Don Wallace and his wife had managed the Tarpon Harbour Apartments for more than ten years. Like so many other Keys residents, the Wallaces either came to the island chain in search of a Margaritaville lifestyle, or they were hiding from a past they didn’t want exposed. The Florida Keys had many transients in search of a new life, and the Wallaces fell under that category.
Wallace lived in the manager’s apartment located on the property on the Atlantic Ocean side of Marathon. They were friendly with all of their tenants and spent a considerable amount of time organizing community events for the one-hundred-and-seven-unit complex.
On this day, the meeting at the complex’s clubhouse wasn’t set to beach music and free margaritas. It was about survival of the fittest.
Wallace had approached several of the men and women at Tarpon Harbour who’d run out of food. They reached an agreement, one that was born out of instinct. They refused to die and decided to band together to take what they could not buy—fresh water and food.
Several tenants had young children who were suffering. Wellness checks on the tenants in residence began to produce dead bodies daily. Wallace and the tenants began breaking into nearby homes and businesses, taking anything edible and distributing the food products to those in need within the apartment community.
On a few occasions during these home invasions, they were met with a homeowner and a rifle barrel. This prompted the band of burglars to locate weapons of their own. At first, they used aluminum baseball bats and claw hammers to subdue their victims. With each successful nightly set of break-ins, they not only scored food but also guns.
None of the men owned weapons of their own, and very few had ever fired a gun. However, they were prepared to do what it took to continue to feed their families and those in the apartment complex.
Wallace called the group together. What started as a close-knit band of six burglars had now expanded to a dozen. Eight of them were armed with multiple guns. They gathered in the teal-colored clubhouse overlooking the pool, which remained filled with sand and debris following the hurricane. Wallace had only had enough time to cover the windows with plywood and had been unable to put away the lounge chairs that had lined both sides of
the pool. The group was talking among themselves as Wallace called them to attention.
“Okay, listen up. We’ve now confirmed that the sheriff’s department has pulled virtually all of their manpower to Key West. From what we’ve been told by a firefighter who left to join the sheriff’s department, the mayor has ordered raids of businesses in Key West and Stock Island. This firefighter friend of mine says the plan is to redistribute the food and supplies to residents.”
“How does that help us?” asked one of the men who stood in the back of the open space.
“I don’t think it does, for now, anyway,” replied Wallace. He ran his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair. “According to my buddy, they plan on moving up the Keys until they’ve emptied every place that would have stockpiles of supplies. I think we need to change our tactics before they hit Marathon.”
“What do you have in mind?” asked one of the three women who were a part of the group.
“Well, so far we’ve focused on residences nearby. Mainly, this is because we can hit them and run back to the apartments before we’re seen. I think we need to identify the locations in Marathon that would give us the greatest opportunities and get what we can before the mayor beats us to the punch.”
Wallace pulled out a tourist map of Marathon and spread it on a banquet table in front of him. The group walked up to the table to get a better look at the markings and Post-it Note flags he’d used to identify certain properties in Marathon.
“We don’t have a lot of time if I understand my friend correctly, so we need to hit our most lucrative opportunities first,” Wallace began to explain. He tapped his fingers on the map over Marathon High School. “When this whole mess started, the county maintenance people put heavy-duty chains and padlocks on all the exterior doors to prevent entry.”