by Ken Pelham
“How’s it look, Randy?” Kyoko asked.
Sanborn shook his head. “My town is gone. Wiped away. Seventy percent of the buildings have been completely destroyed, the rest all beat to hell. On the northern third, not a single building or tree is standing. That’s blast damage. Most of the rest is Celeste’s doing. We got the double-whammy of all time. The bank we were in, gone. City Hall, gone. All public records gone with it. The high school gym, gone. The fishing fleet, gone. Good news is, I haven’t found any bodies. They’ll start to stink today if there are any, but I believe—fingers crossed—everybody got out okay. They’re ninety-nine percent still at the prison. In lockdown. The mayor’s royally pissed. He’s tearing the governor and President both a new one. Fisk says public anger at the President is off the charts right now and there’s talk of impeachment.”
“Sounds like Blount worked the miracle of actually uniting both sides of the aisle with a common purpose,” Kyoko said.
“Kyoko,” Grant said, “CDC is going to want you back now.”
“They just might get me if there’s an appropriate string of firings in management.”
Sanborn leaned closer to Charley and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Your mom and your girlfriend are safe in Tampa. They’re telling your story, talking you up. Even Tyler is talking you up. You’re becoming a folk hero. And just wait ’til the whole story gets out; you’ll be a legend.”
Charley’s eyes misted. “Thanks, Sheriff.”
“Stop it. You know I’m not a sheriff.”
“Charley,” Grant said, “your home washed away. Listen; you want to go to college. I’m going to score a full scholarship for you. Physics will get a new hero.”
“You can do that?”
“I guarantee it.”
Sanborn nodded toward the divers and boats. “Think they’ll come clean on what happened, Professor?”
“You know I’m not a professor. They have to eventually. Officially, Celeste blew away the north end of the island. Hurricanes have done that to barrier islands before. But there are people already figuring it out. Strange images in satellite photos, impossibly hot readings in thermal imagery, talk of a brilliant light seen from thirty miles away…people are putting it together and will demand an explanation. The Feds will spill eventually, but not until they sweep the island for remnants and radioactivity.”
“Celeste did us a favor. The wind blew the entire burst out to sea. So far, the island is coming up clean. No fallout.”
“We lucked out,” Charley said. “The blast was a fraction of what it could have been. The timing of a gun-type detonation is very specific. A perfectly timed critical mass would have been worse. A lot worse.”
Sanborn shook his head. “One thing I don’t understand; how did Roscoe find the bomb core? Grant and I both searched the spring before he did. We should’ve found it.”
“You’re a cop, the Professor is a professor. Roscoe was a treasure hunter. The core was covered in sand and silt. Roscoe was looking for gold, silver. He swept the bottom with his metal detector and found it right away.”
“Guess that makes sense.”
Hammond nudged Sanborn. “What you going to do now, Randy?”
Sanborn averted his eyes. “Julie’s a national hero,” he said. “All the networks want her. I might see if she needs some help. I guess.”
“Ah,” Hammond said. “I guess.”
Sanborn blushed and changed the subject. “It’s not all good, Grant. There’s a lot of finger-pointing. Seems trouble follows you around.”
“I’m learning to enjoy it.” Grant turned to Hammond. “You got plans, Jerry?”
Hammond sat in stony silence for a moment, gazing at the wreckage of his hometown. “My practice is gone,” he said, almost in a whisper. “My livelihood is gone, my town is gone.” He turned to face them, his eyes glistening. “Brigands Key was aptly named. The town was built by scoundrels and prospered on the misfortune of others. If you believe in karma, you’ll think Brigands Key got repaid in spades for its sins. My great-grandfather founded this town. He fell into ruin but came back. Julie’s grandfather was the town ne’er-do-well, the loser everyone mocked. Yet he may very well have stopped Hitler from acquiring a nuclear weapon. Roscoe Nobles was our latest public laughing-stock loser, yet managed to keep one of the town’s leading citizens from selling an atom bomb to the highest bidder. I’m going nowhere. I’m rebuilding Brigands Key. This is home.”
“Doc,” Grant said, “I’m unemployed and unappreciated once again. Brigands Key sounds like my kind of place. Might as well hang around a while.”
“Me too,” Kyoko said. “I think I’ll take back my CDC job and leverage my clout into pulling in some huge FEMA money. We’ll put Brigands Key back on the map and build it back indestructible this time.”
A Coast Guard boat chugged past, its crew eyeing them suspiciously. Grant waved.
A pair of dolphins swam languidly alongside the vessel, in long, slow rolls. Small silver fish, disturbed by the boat, scattered and leapt. The dolphins darted after them, corralling them, catching them.
“Smart animals,” Kyoko said.
Grant nodded. “Smarter than us.” He took her hand, stood, and stretched, the motion causing him to wince. “Man, that hurts,” he grumbled. “And I’m famished. You can see if Fisk’s cooking is worse than Randy’s coffee. As for me, I’m going to have the National Guard scare up some Dinsmoor and orange juice and make me the meanest screwdriver yet devised by humankind.”
About the Author…
Ken Pelham grew up in the off-the-radar South Florida farm town of Immokalee, sandwiched between coasts and snuggled against wild, wooly Big Cypress Swamp. A member of the International Thriller Writers and the Florida Writers Association, he lives in Maitland, Florida, with his wife, Laura.
Brigands Key won first place in the 2009 Royal Palm Literary Awards. The prequel, Place of Fear, a first-place winner of the Royal Palm in 2012, delves into Carson Grant’s troubled past and the disastrous expedition to Guatemala hinted at in Brigands Key.
Fans of Brigands Key will find a short story about the island in Treacherous Bastards: Stories of Suspense, Deceit, and Skullduggery, on Amazon for Kindle readers.
Three more stories about the island’s sordid past make up Tales of Old Brigands Key.
Horror fans will find two chilling stories in A Double Shot of Fright: Two Tales of Terror, guaranteed to cause loss of sleep.
Visit Ken at kenpelham.com for updates on his work, and musings on literature in general and suspense fiction in particular.