by Bobby Akart
“Do you have the Sharpie?”
Tucker retrieved it from his pocket and waved it in front of him. “Yep.”
“Okay. I’m gonna call out what I see, and you make notes. Then we’re gonna haul our cookies to Big Pine Key to see if they make it that far. In the meantime, I need to call Uncle Mike and let him know what’s going on. I hope he’s ready.”
Chapter Forty
Thursday, November 14
Seven Mile Bridge
Mike threw his two-way radio into the front seat of his truck and wandered around the concrete pavement, running his fingers through his sweaty hair. This was happening way too fast. He thought he’d have days, if not a week or more, to prepare the bridge and get Marathon ready. He’d miscalculated, and now he’d have to ask the impossible of his tired volunteers.
After he left his meeting with Reverend Deb, Mike drove through Marathon, touching base with his acquaintances who owned trucks with winches. He was appreciative of Reverend Deb’s offer to recruit the other churches for him. It took an inordinate amount of time to explain why he needed the men’s help, and once they were convinced, he had to get fuel for their trucks. It was already early afternoon when they’d gathered at the start of Seven Mile Bridge. After a lengthy back-and-forth on the best way to approach the problem, they began.
Unfortunately for Mike’s schedule, it was agreed they had to clear the road in order to clog it up again. The stalled and abandoned vehicles were in the way of the far end of Seven Mile Bridge closest to Big Pine Key. They had to clear one lane to get there. It was determined that the group of six trucks be split into two teams of three. One would focus on clearing a lane for the other. They leapfrogged down the two-lane highway for most of the afternoon. They were midway through the process of doing so when Lacey reached Mike on the radio.
“Okay,” began Mike after he gathered himself. He waved down the men, who shut off their trucks and joined him. He passed out bottled water and allowed them to catch their breath before he explained. “They’re approaching Big Pine Key. It hasn’t been their normal MO to conduct these raids at night, so I wanna believe they’re staging for tomorrow.”
“What if they’re coming now?” asked one of the men. “We just made it really damn easy for ’em.”
Mike didn’t need to be reminded of that fact. He had two options. “Well, we could work under the assumption they’re gonna stop for the afternoon and pick it up again tomorrow morning.”
“That’s possible, Mike,” began one of the men. “But here’s the thing. If they keep on coming, we’re busted. I don’t wanna go head-to-head with Jock’s people after the video you showed me.”
“I’m with him,” said another volunteer. “Maybe we oughta just cut bait and hope for the best?”
“That would be a helluva mistake,” said Mike. “I get that you guys don’t want to gamble taking this all the way to Big Pine Key. I can’t really disagree with that.”
One of the men interrupted Mike. “Big Pine is barely a mile wide. If they’re gonna make camp, or whatever, they’ll be able to see and hear us in the dark. They’ll be all over us, Mike.”
Mike knew they were right. The risk was too great. They were halfway down the bridge. Three miles of gridlock was better than none.
“Let’s do this,” he began. “We’ll start our road blockage right here at the halfway point. We can start towing cars from down the highway, leaving enough room for our trucks to get through. Then, one by one, we’ll pull ’em sideways and flatten the tires. It’ll take them forever to clear the mess.”
“Then what?” asked one of the men who was the most argumentative.
Mike screamed the answer in his head. I don’t know! That’s my brother’s job!
He took a deep breath before he verbally responded, “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” He instantly cringed at the corny pun. However, it served to ease the tension between him and his volunteers, who found the use of the expression incredibly funny under the circumstances.
So after a good laugh and a few slaps on the back, morale was high, and the men got to work again.
Chapter Forty-One
Thursday, November 14
Big Pine Key
After the caravan had passed and entered Big Pine Key, Lacey was off again. She had to rush to get to the other side of the island, as it was only a mile or so across. She had to travel well south through the aquatic preserve and then back around to the highway where it crossed the Spanish Harbor Channel.
Because the tide was low, they were able to ease the fishing boat through the half-moon bridge supports that held the bridge up between the two keys. This enabled them to get a direct point of view down the highway where the business district was located. Even as the tide rose, blocking their access back across the highway, Lacey was in position to race back to Driftwood Key from there.
“There they are, Mom,” said Tucker, who was using the high-powered binoculars. He had to look down a short stretch of street in a residential area that was lined with vegetation. The gray skies of nuclear winter had taken the lives of the trees, enabling Tucker to have a fairly unobstructed view. “They’re parked sideways across the highway. We’re too far away for me to see what they’re doing exactly.”
Lacey took the binoculars from Tucker and tried to get a better look. From memory, she thought they were a mile away or slightly more. She set the binoculars down and studied the house on pilings in front of them. Its hurricane shutters had all been closed, and there were no vehicles parked underneath. Furthermore, the dock jutting out into Harbor Channel was empty.
“Let’s get a closer look. Whadya think?”
“Will our stuff be okay?” asked Tucker.
Lacey looked at the camping gear she’d brought in case they needed to make their way onto one of the keys for the night. She took the other pair of binoculars and studied the home again. There was a fence together with a locked gate protecting it. The road ended at the water’s edge, and there were no signs of life.
“Yeah, let’s dock the boat.”
Fifteen minutes later, the two of them had tied off to the dock, and they were walking briskly up Avenue A toward US 1. By the time they reached the activity, another raid was in full swing.
An angry crowd of people had gathered at the intersection that led to Winn-Dixie. According to one onlooker Lacey spoke with, they had been informed by a deputy that the food was being confiscated to be sent to Key West.
Lacey considered warning them about the violence that had occurred in Key West but opted to stay out of the way. Her job was to conduct surveillance, not engage an angry mob.
“Mom, here come the trucks. The cops are walking them down the road with their guns.”
“They’re not messing around, Tucker. Let’s get back toward the boat.”
The people started to push toward the row of sheriff’s vehicles and the armed deputies lined up behind them. They began shouting at one another as the crowd became increasingly hostile. Most demanded that the trucks stop to share the food with the people who shopped there regularly.
Suddenly, the tactical vehicles appeared from behind the box trucks and began roaring toward the crowd. This startled the onlookers, who turned and fled in all directions. To force the issue, warning shots were fired by some of the deputies high over the head of the angry mob. They began pushing and shoving one another as they couldn’t get away fast enough.
Lacey and Tucker joined a group racing east on A1A. She turned slightly as she ran and saw the box trucks turning toward Key West. She counted six vehicles leaving along with two of the tactical vehicles. The rest of the convoy she and Tucker had counted earlier remained behind.
She grabbed Tucker by the arm and told him to stop. She pointed toward the canopy of a Tom Thumb convenience market, where the two of them settled in behind the gas pumps to avoid being seen. They waited for several minutes until the bulk of the crowd had dispersed, leaving the sheriff’s department personnel alo
ne.
“Mom, we should go,” urged Tucker.
“In a minute. Let’s see where they go first.”
Lacey thought the confiscation teams would return to Key West and come back the next day. She was wrong.
Suddenly, they emerged from the side street and headed straight for the convenience store. They weren’t traveling fast, making Lacey wonder if they intended to empty out the small establishment. When they slowed near the entrance, her palms started to sweat. She looked around for a place to hide so they could avoid any contact with the SWAT teams.
Then, unexpectedly, they turned into the lumber yard that adjoined the Penske Truck Rental across the street. There were more than a dozen moving trucks parked along the fenced utility yard.
Lacey shook her head and mumbled as she counted the trucks again.
“Reinforcements.”
Part VI
Day twenty-nine, Friday, November 15
Chapter Forty-Two
Friday, November 15
Driftwood Key
Erin was the first to rise that day. She verily believed all women had a perception, a sixth sense, that was much more developed than a man’s. Perhaps it had become a part of the female DNA over the millennia, inserted into the female genetic code as a protective measure. To Erin, it was almost supernatural. Over the course of her life, she’d discovered her brain could play tricks on her. Oftentimes, her heart made her blind. However, without a doubt, she could always trust her gut.
She tossed and turned all night, recalling the conversation she’d had with Hank on the beach more than a month ago. They’d just met and developed a mutual attraction for one another. At their age, mature singles were looking for a partner based upon more than looks. They wanted to laugh together. When seriousness was required, an intelligent conversation without rancor was a must. Moreover, they were looking for a best friend.
She and Hank had all of those things. However, it was the serious discussion they’d had on the beach regarding nuclear war and the aftermath that stuck in her head. She’d never admitted this to Hank, but the day she was whisked away by the Secret Service, Erin wasn’t surprised.
Her gut had told her that nuclear war would come to America. It was inevitable.
For a hundred years, as the U.S. became the dominant superpower around the world and the largest economic power, it had become a symbol of freedom and success that most nations should strive to emulate.
Yet, jealousy was a sickness, whether between individuals or nation-states. It’s a form of hatred built upon insecurity and inferiority. As a result, the U.S. created a lot of enemies, even among her allies. Even within her own borders. Because, make no mistake, geopolitics are often born out of emotions. Those who resented America’s success wanted desperately for the nation, and her people, to be knocked down a peg or two by whatever means available.
The evening the missiles had been launched from North Korea toward the U.S. mainland, Erin sensed they were coming. For a moment, she was thankful to be a member of the president’s cabinet. An elite member of the government who’d be protected from the onslaught.
Then she thought about the people she loved. Friends. Family. Hank. Would they survive the nuclear detonations? What would happen to them when nuclear winter encircled the Earth?
To be sure, much of what she’d learned over the years about the prospects of nuclear winter was theoretical. At the time, a nuclear exchange had never taken place. During the conversations they shared, she said the aftermath of what happened during a nuclear war would bring a plague on the planet—nuclear winter. A climate catastrophe equivalent to a nuclear El Niño. An unrelenting winter that would poison the planet’s atmosphere and threaten the world’s food production.
Now her gut told her they were running out of time in dealing with this tyrannical mayor who ran Monroe County. Her attempts to thwart Lindsey’s confiscation plan was as much out of self-preservation as it was to protect Hank and his family. The mayor’s Robin Hood approach was untenable, and despite the fact it would fail, Hank and his family were destined to be prime targets during the implementation. By association, Erin would be imperiled as well.
Erin’s thoughts had kept her up most of the night, and she constantly checked her watch, waiting for 5:00 a.m. when Sonny turned on the main house generator for an hour. She planned on transferring the photographs she’d taken to Hank’s computer. Then she wanted to create flyers to be handed out to the residents of Marathon and posted on every street. They needed to rally the troops to take a stand against Lindsey. She knew, however, the Albright family couldn’t do it alone.
At a few minutes before five, she got dressed for the day and made her way to the kitchen. She prepared the coffee, ready to press the on button the moment the generator started. Unknowingly, Sonny tortured her, as he was several minutes late. Normally punctual, he’d been up late patrolling the grounds with Jimmy before relinquishing the duties back to Peter.
Erin was wide awake and didn’t need the caffeine coursing through her veins to hit the ground running. Within a second of the generator-supplied power turning on, she started the coffeemaker, flipped on the light over the kitchen sink, and rushed into Hank’s office, phone in hand.
She was proficient on the computer and capable of using Microsoft Word to create most kinds of documents. Once she settled on the verbiage designed to evoke the emotions of shock and fear in anyone who read it, she printed six different flyers, each with a unique image of the Winn-Dixie carnage. By the time they were printed, she was ready to run them through the copier. At first, unsure of Hank’s supply of paper and toner, she printed a limited quantity of three hundred She made a mental note to look up Marathon’s mayor, Juan Ramirez, to see if he had a means to print additional copies for distribution.
“You’re up and at ’em,” said Hank after he took a sip of his coffee. He glanced at his desk and noticed she didn’t have any. “Can I get you coffee?”
Erin turned and reached for his mug. “Just a sip of yours,” she replied. Then she smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek. The two hadn’t slept together. They’d been affectionate and related to one another as a couple. Somehow, taking their relationship to that next level hadn’t come to fruition. They’d been a little busy, after all.
“What are you working on?” he asked as she handed the coffee back to him. Erin organized the six sets of flyers in neat stacks and used binder clips to keep them separated.
With her back to him, Erin caught her breath after a night of her brain working overtime and a frenzied morning preparing for the day. She slowly turned to Hank. “It’s gonna come to a head today, Hank. I feel it in my gut.”
Hank furrowed his brow. “I don’t know, Erin. Mike and his buddies worked until well after midnight. They double stacked vehicles all the way down the bridge to Fred the Tree.”
“Where?”
“Oh, sorry. It’s a locals’ thing. About halfway down Seven Mile Bridge, on the old road, there’s an Australian pine tree growing out of a small patch of soil. It became a symbol of hope to locals following Hurricane Irma tearing through the Keys in 2017. Despite its shallow root system and a vicious storm trying to rip it apart, it survived. Fred the Tree, like the people of the Keys, was stronger than Irma’s brutal winds.”
The story caused some of the tension to ease for Erin. Maybe it was the anecdotal story about the Florida Keys or it was Hank’s presence. She approached him and gave him a long hug. Then she whispered into his ear, “Today, you’ve got to be Fred the Tree. The people of the Keys need someone like you, Hank.”
“Today?” he asked.
“I think so. It’s time to get ready to take the lead.”
“I don’t think we’re ready to face off with Lindsey.”
“You have to be,” she responded, patting him gently on the heart. “They need a leader, Hank. Not necessarily someone who does the greatest thing. They need someone who inspires them to do great things alongside you.”
&
nbsp; Chapter Forty-Three
Friday, November 15
Big Pine Key
The dim light of dawn woke Lacey up first. She and Tucker had decided to sleep on the boat and wait to see what the sheriff’s confiscation teams’ next move was. Overnight temperatures in the Keys dipped down into the low fifties, twenty degrees below normal. It was the first night that Lacey had slept outside since that fateful evening that Owen died. This was nothing compared to the bitter cold they’d endured. In fact, the temperatures in the Keys were similar to those in San Francisco at this time of year.
She stretched and then made her way down the dock to a concealed spot behind a stand of mangrove trees to relieve herself. As she peed, she listened for activity on Big Pine Key.
The Florida Keys were notoriously laid-back and not beset by the hustle and bustle of city life. Generally, the only noise an early riser might hear was the fishing boats going out for the day. On an island like Big Pine Key, there was no commuter traffic. Many people walked to their jobs or rode bicycles. Unless the weather was bad-tempered, most vehicles remained parked.
Lacey wandered through the home’s entry gate onto the pothole-laden end of Avenue A. She stared down U.S. 1, looking for any signs of moving vehicles or police patrols. There were none.
“Hey, Mom,” said a sleepy-eyed Tucker, who walked across the crushed-shell driveway in his bare feet. The teen had adjusted to the time zone change, but he’d never been a morning person. He joined her side, lifting his foot once, complaining about a broken shell he’d stepped on. “Anything?”
“No, not yet,” she replied. “Do you feel like taking a walk down the highway to get a closer look?”