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

by Bobby Akart

  They slowed their pace so all of the convoy could stay together in case of a breakdown. Backing up and turning around wasn’t an option on the two-lane bridge cluttered with broken-down vehicles.

  Riding in the lead vehicle, he ordered his driver to slowly wind through the debris field of inoperable vehicles. His focus remained on each car in their path rather than what lay ahead. That was why it came as a shock to him when the convoy was forced to come to a complete stop halfway across the bridge.

  “What the hell is this?” he asked of no one in particular. There were four deputies in the tactical vehicle with him, but none of them had an answer other than stating the obvious—a traffic jam.

  Sergeant Rivera bounded out of the truck and held his right fist in the air, indicating all vehicles should stop. The three deputies in the back seat piled out, and the driver remained in his seat as he’d been instructed. Rivera turned to the second tactical vehicle and used hand signals to those members of the SWAT team to disembark. These two lead trucks had remained with him throughout the raids. They were his best people—team A.

  He glanced in all directions, pausing briefly at the sight of Fred the Tree, which he’d never given a second thought to when he’d passed it before the collapse. He thought for a moment and issued his orders.

  “You three, make your way up the highway and see how far this goes. Do you see these skid marks? Somebody went through a lot of effort to block this highway. I wanna know how far it stretches. Go!”

  The men immediately took off in a steady jog, looking for gaps between the parked vehicles and maintaining their weapons at low ready in the event of an ambush. When they were out of sight, Sergeant Rivera retrieved field glasses out of his vehicle and climbed onto the hood.

  After getting his balance, he focused on the men as they made their way up the road. Then he adjusted his vision and looked toward Marathon. He shook his head in disbelief. He pulled the binoculars away from his face and rubbed his eyes. He looked again and dropped several F-bombs.

  “I don’t need to wait for those guys to return. Get me the sheriff on the radio!”

  “Yes, sir!” his driver shouted back.

  It took several minutes for Sheriff Jock to respond to the radio call. By the time Sergeant Rivera had explained what he’d observed, the three members of team A had already returned. Their chests were heaving for air after jogging in the dense, sooty air. Sergeant Rivera asked the sheriff to stand by while he got the report from his men.

  He retook his seat in the tactical vehicle and closed the door behind him. Then he instructed his driver to get out. After taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he reached out to Sheriff Jock again.

  “Sheriff, these cars are blocking the road all the way to Marathon. My men tell me there are hundreds of vehicles parked bumper to bumper, sideways across the road. It’s impossible for us to pass.”

  “Who the hell did this?” the sheriff screamed through the radio.

  “Sir, as my men reached the other end of the bridge, several people met them part of the way. The guy in front said his name was Hank Albright. I think he’s the owner—”

  “I know who he is!” the sheriff screamed, cutting off his sergeant.

  Sergeant Rivera tried to ask the sheriff what he should do, but the communication had been terminated. He angrily threw the microphone against the dashboard and slammed the back of his head against the seat out of frustration. This isn’t worth the aggravation, he thought to himself.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Friday, November 15

  Seven Mile Bridge

  After the confrontation with the three members of the sheriff’s SWAT team, Hank was filled with anxiety. He began to question whether they were doing the right thing by confronting the deputies. They were dressed in full body armor and helmets. They carried automatic weapons compared to the variety of guns available to the Albrights.

  Hank was about to broach the subject of abandoning this whole crazy notion of staring down Lindsey’s standing army of sheriff’s deputies when he heard a voice in the distance. He turned to see who it was.

  A half mile back, Lacey and Tucker were racing between the cars, waving their arms.

  “Dad! Dad! We’re here!”

  “We’re coming, Grandpa! Wait for us!”

  Hank and Erin turned around. Mike and Jessica, who were walking alongside them, paused as well but kept their attention forward toward the looming standoff. Peter rushed back to greet his sister and nephew. They half-hugged and slapped each other on the back as the two of them continued toward Hank.

  Peter waited behind, as off in the distance, Sonny, Phoebe, and Jimmy were also walking briskly toward them. Peter shouted to his father to let him know the Frees were on their way as well.

  Moments later, half a mile away from where the SWAT teams waited, all of the residents of Driftwood Key were huddled together in the middle of the highway, surrounded by disabled vehicles.

  After everyone caught their breath, Peter began laughing as he studied the jet-black tactical vehicles. He’d seen the military equivalent before. In a way, the scene didn’t appear all that different than the war zones he’d reported from during his career.

  “Guys? Are we nuts?”

  His question lightened the mood somewhat. The group shared in his laughter, and several wrapped their arms around one another.

  “That’s how we roll,” quipped Tucker, the youngest of the clan.

  “You betcha!” said Phoebe, who hugged the teen.

  “Let’s go see what we’re dealing with, shall we?” asked Erin. She took Hank by the arm, and the families made their way through the cars as if they were on a casual stroll to church on Sunday. It wasn’t until they reached the void between the vehicle blockade and the menacing SWAT teams that reality set in.

  As soon as they stepped into the open and away from the protection of the two sedans parked bumper-to-bumper, Sergeant Rivera approached them. He was flanked on both sides by two members of team A, who pointed their weapons at everyone from Driftwood Key. Had they pulled their triggers, the Albrights and Frees would be dead within seconds.

  “Who is Albright?” snarled Sergeant Rivera as he stomped toward them, emboldened by his armed deputies.

  “I am,” Hank responded.

  Sergeant Rivera scowled at Hank, and his deputies raised their rifle barrels menacingly.

  Peter stepped forward. “I am.”

  Lacey smiled and held Tucker’s hand. “We are, too.”

  “Same here,” said Mike as he and Jessica joined Hank’s side.

  Erin and the Frees also stepped forward to join the Albrights.

  Their actions enraged Sergeant Rivera. “You’re a bunch of smart-asses. I’ve got the green light to arrest every last one of you.”

  “Do it, Sergeant!” challenged Mike, the former detective.

  “I know who you are, Albright,” Sergeant Rivera hissed. “They stripped you of your shield.”

  “Wrong, Rivera. I couldn’t be a part of all of this.” He waved his arms at Rivera, his men, and the line of vehicles behind him.

  Sergeant Rivera angrily stepped forward a few paces, and Mike slid his hands on top of his holstered weapon. Suddenly, all of the deputies’ guns were raised and pointed directly at Mike.

  “Sergeant Rivera!” shouted his driver. “It’s the sheriff for you!”

  He shot Mike a nasty look and stomped back to his truck. The members of team A lowered their weapons slightly when Mike removed his hand from his. He stepped backward to join the others.

  “Mike, not a good idea,” cautioned Jessica, who rarely tried to tell her husband what to do. This time, he agreed with her and muttered that he was sorry.

  “What’s happening?” asked Phoebe.

  “My guess is that Sergeant Rivera is no longer running this show,” replied Erin. “It wouldn’t surprise me if we’re soon told—”

  “Albright! The sheriff is going to deal with you himself. He told me to as
k you this question.”

  “What’s that, Sergeant?” asked Hank politely with a hint of sarcasm.

  “Two things. One. Do you know what martial law means? Second. Do you know what lock ’em up and throw away the key means? Think on that until he arrives.”

  With that, Rivera ordered the rest of his SWAT team members from their tactical vehicles. He waved them forward until there were sixteen men standing shoulder to shoulder, weapons ready, facing down Hank and the others.

  Not that Hank wanted to, but he felt compelled to give his family an out. He spoke in a loud whisper so the SWAT team, who was less than fifty feet away, couldn’t hear him.

  “We can back off and go home. There’s nothing wrong with living to fight another day.”

  “No way, Grandpa!” said Tucker a little too loudly, drawing a tug on the arm from his mother. He lowered his voice as he continued. “They’ll just come to our home next. We have to take a stand. Out here. In the open.”

  Hank wrapped his arm around his grandson’s shoulders and hugged him. Tucker, who had lost his father to the aftermath of nuclear war, was ready to take a stand even if meant dying in the process.

  “Mr. Hank, what do you think?” asked Jimmy.

  “Jimmy, you’re not truly free until you no longer live under someone’s thumb. Tyrants like Lindsey will never be satisfied until we comply with all of her crazy demands. I want to live but not as a prisoner of a despot like her.”

  “Then we stay,” said Lacey.

  “I agree,” added Peter. “Terrorists are everywhere, and they take many forms. I’ve seen them in action overseas and in Washington.”

  Erin laughed. “I can vouch for that. Let me tell you about my boss.” She and Hank exchanged high fives before wrapping their arms through one another’s in a gesture of solidarity.

  “Mike?” asked Hank.

  “I’m still here, right?” he responded.

  “Hey. Frees don’t know any other way except to be free.” Sonny’s family grasped each other’s hands and squeezed.

  A long standoff began between the two sides. The SWAT team never blinked, nor did the Driftwood Key contingent. Then the vehicles ahead of them roared to life. All of them. At the same time. In the distance, they could hear a low rumble and the sound of tires squealing on the concrete pavement.

  “Are they turning around?” asked Sonny.

  “I don’t know,” replied Mike. “I can’t see around them.”

  The SWAT team members held their positions and made no efforts to return to their vehicles. For nearly an hour, the standoff had kept both groups paralyzed, staring at one another. One side capable of causing the death of the other in mere seconds. The vulnerable side stood proud, prepared to die for what they believed in.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Friday, November 15

  Seven Mile Bridge

  The trucks and patrol cars jockeyed for position until they were parked along the concrete wall bordering the two-lane highway. The SWAT team never turned to observe their activity. The eyes of the men peered at their targets under the visors of their ballistic helmets. Like the parting of the sea in the biblical context, the vehicles made way for the new arrivals.

  Approaching the front of the convoy were two front loaders utilized by the Monroe County Roads & Bridges department. The behemoths barely squeezed between the sheriff’s convoy of trucks and patrol cars until they reached the front. Then the two Caterpillar 988Ks designed to clear sand and debris caused by storm surge pulled beside each other. The operators stared at Hank and his family for a moment before dropping their buckets to the concrete pavement with a loud thud that shook the concrete roadway.

  “Dad,” yelled Peter so he could be heard over the loud rumble of the 541-horsepower diesel engines, “those machines could pick up the cars and toss them over the rail. I don’t know if we should—”

  “Hang tough, Peter,” Hank said reassuringly. “Stare back at them and don’t show any fear. We have to stay strong.”

  Suddenly, the operators shut down their machines. The hissing and popping of the engines cooling off sounded like they were in the midst of a den of angry vipers.

  The standoff continued for several minutes with neither side showing any signs of retreat. And then Mayor Lindsey Free emerged between the two enormous machines with Sheriff Jock Daly by her side.

  Her face was red with rage, yet her voice was eerily calm. She wasted no time in addressing her nemesis.

  “Hank, just who do you think you are?” she asked as she walked closer to him.

  The SWAT team moved slightly to let Lindsey and Jock through. Sergeant Rivera moved along the side of the road so that he could provide visual instructions to his personnel if needed.

  As Lindsey and Jock approached, Rivera motioned for the deputies to move closer as well. The gap was being closed between the two groups, which meant the Albright group was in even greater peril. There would be no time to run and take cover.

  “I should ask you the same question, Lindsey,” Hank shot back without a hint of trepidation in his voice. “I’m not going to make this personal. You have history with some members of my family. However, that’s not what this is all about. This is about the Florida Keys and its people. It’s about what the role of government is during a crisis. It’s about maintaining the rights and freedoms we enjoy as Americans.”

  “Lofty words, but that’s not reality, Hank. You have no idea what I have on my platter. You live in a fancy place on a beautiful little private island, insulated from the despair of your neighbors.”

  “That’s not true!” Hank shouted back at her. “We’ve suffered, too. My daughter lost her husband. The father to my grandson. My son, Peter, came close to death countless times, especially when he was only a dozen miles from ground zero in Washington. My brother, Mike, a decorated and highly respected detective for you, Jock, was almost murdered at the hands of a homicidal maniac.” Hank paused and moved next to Jimmy, who was standing alongside his parents.

  He continued. “And how about your nephew, Jimmy. Remember him? Your irresponsible actions in blowing up the bridges almost killed him. But for the grace of God, he would’ve died because he was forced to volunteer for your crazy scheme.”

  “You volunteered him!” Lindsey’s calm demeanor had been whisked away as Hank continued to stand up to her.

  “Don’t be coy with me, Lindsey. Your message to me on the front porch that day was loud and clear. Offer up a member of my family or you’d bring your wrath upon me.”

  “Whatever, Hank. Enough of this. It’s time for you people to get out of the way. We’ve got work to do.”

  Hank looked down and then glanced at Fred the Tree. Like so many others in the Keys, Driftwood Key had survived the onslaught of Hurricane Irma that year. His family, the Frees, and all of the people of the Keys had stood strong as the storm pummeled their homes.

  He stood a little taller and stuck out his jaw slightly. “No, Lindsey, you don’t. You’ve already crossed the line from governing to tyranny. You don’t have the authority—”

  “What? Are you kidding me?” Lindsey was incredulous. “We’re trying to find a way to help people survive the most devastating catastrophic event that’s ever hit our country, much less the Florida Keys. The only way to keep order and prevent people from dying is for somebody like me to take control.”

  “It’s not the only way,” Hank argued as he took a couple of steps closer to Lindsey and the menacing gunmen. “You have to appeal to the residents and business owners of the Keys. You have to lay out a plan that incorporates our churches and communities to help one another. Bringing in the goon squad to steal from businesses in the name of the greater good only fosters resentment, and it gets people killed in the process.”

  “You’re out of line, Albright!” yelled Sergeant Rivera, who took Hank’s statement personally.

  “When you’re the mayor, you can do it your way!” shouted Lindsey. Her attitude was obvious. She was no lon
ger interested in talk. She turned angrily toward Jock. “Are you gonna move these people out of our way, or do I have to do it?”

  Hank tried to appeal to Jock’s sense of decency. He was a law enforcement officer and had trained with the finest in the nation. Hank hoped Jock was growing weary of Lindsey’s tyrannical demands.

  “Jock, this isn’t your idea, is it? Maybe you don’t know that there’s a better option, but I believe there can be if we bring people together instead of dividing them.”

  “I’m just doin’ my job, Hank,” he replied unenthusiastically.

  Mike stepped forward to address his former boss. “We swore an oath, Jock. We promised the people of the Keys we’d never betray the public trust. We assured them we’d maintain the highest ethical standards, and this is important. We made a solemn vow to uphold the values of our community. How do these raids uphold the standards you and I both swore we’d adhere to?”

  Jock grew quiet and avoided eye contact with Mike. Hank noticed some of the fight drain out of his body. Lindsey did as well.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Friday, November 15

  Seven Mile Bridge

  In every potentially violent confrontation, there was a point of no return. It was that precise moment during which the two opposing combatants either decided the fight wasn’t worth the trouble, or, in the case of a highly charged, emotional showdown, a mistake was made that resulted in blood pouring onto the streets.

  Lindsey became more agitated and animated as she turned on her sheriff and lover. “Dammit, Jock! I’m ordering you to arrest these people. Take them down and move them out of the way.”

  Jock stared back at her, his body frozen from indecision. Or perhaps he refused to comply with her demands because he disagreed with her. Regardless of his thoughts in the moment, the impulsive mayor was prepared to act on her own.