Nuclear Winter First Strike by Bobby Akart (best fiction books of all time .txt) 📗

“Mr. Hank,” began Phoebe tentatively, “I hope there’s no bad news.”

“No, Phoebe. Not yet, anyway. That said, we need to do a few things. Unusual for our normal routine, but nothing that will go to waste. Let me get Sonny and Jimmy started first because they have some errands to run.”

“Okay, Mr. Hank,” said Sonny, who sat up on the edge of the sofa.

Hank spun around and pulled out two small notepads bearing the Driftwood Key Inn logo on them. They were complimentary in each guest room. He tossed them to Sonny and Jimmy along with a logo’d pen.

“This is gonna seem out of the ordinary because, well, it is. At the same time, I’ll feel better when we’re done.”

“Yes, sir,” said Jimmy.

Hank stood and paced the floor, mindlessly glancing out the windows of the corner office space as he gave instructions. He tried to process everything logically, thinking of the operations of the inn during any given day and week.

“Jimmy, you first. I need you to take every vehicle on the island. I mean trucks, personal cars, and even the golf carts. Top them all off with fuel. While you’re at it, find every available gas can and fill them up as well. Diesel, too. I want you to use a different station with each fill-up. Also, while you’re there, buy more gas and diesel cans. Fill them up, too.”

“Mr. Hank, is a hurricane coming that we didn’t know about?” asked Jimmy as he exchanged glances with his parents.

“No, not exactly. However, we’re gonna get prepared in the same way and then some.”

“Okay, how many gas cans do you want me to buy?”

“All of them,” replied Hank without emotion. Noticing the questioning looks on their faces, he added, “Just go with me on this. We need to stock up. The worst case is we’ll use it over time and this afternoon was unnecessary.”

Jimmy shrugged. “Anything else?”

“No. You’re good to go,” he replied as he looked from Jimmy to Sonny. “I’ve increased the spending limit on your debit card, so you shouldn’t have a problem.”

Jimmy rose and started out the door. “I’ll see ya later.”

Hank raised his voice slightly. “Oh, Jimmy, also buy several cases of bottled water at each stop. Again, no discussion or explanation is owed to anyone. That’s why I want you to use different stations throughout Marathon, okay?”

“Yes, Mr. Hank.”

He turned to Sonny. “I need you to contact the propane company and our gas suppliers. Fill up all the storage tanks we have on the property. Then take the boat to the marina and fill it up, too. When you get back, come find me. I’ll have a list for the Home Depot in Marathon.”

Sonny left with his marching orders, leaving Hank alone with Phoebe. Hank knew he wouldn’t be able to brush off her questions as easily as he had the others’.

She calmly set the food and supply ledger on his desk, followed by her glasses. She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. Then she gave him the look. It was the look all women learned from their mothers and grandmothers. The one that shouted no bullshit, mister, without saying a single word. Hank had experienced it his entire life.

He stood and closed the door, which Sonny had left open. “Okay, it’s just you and me,” said Hank as he eased back into his chair, locking eyes with Phoebe.

She forced a smile and nodded. “That it is.”

Her tone was threatening, in a motherly sort of way. In seconds, she had Hank spilling the tea without asking a single question. He held back the direst of warnings garnered from his conversations with Peter and Erin from the day before. He revealed enough to Phoebe to provide her a sense of urgency and to not question his intentions. After he was done, she summed up the preparations succinctly.

“It’s like preparing for a hurricane, except on steroids.”

“That’s a pretty good way of putting it,” he said.

“I can place the order on Sysco’s website. Some of the things, like cleaning supplies and personal hygiene, I’ll order from Southeast Wholesale.” Phoebe thought for a moment as she made notes in her ledger. She looked up over her glasses and asked, “For how long?”

Hank gulped as he thought to himself, I don’t know. How long do you wanna live? However, he resisted the urge to share his inner drama.

“A few months for nonperishables. A year, odd as that sounds, for basic supplies.”

“Like?” she asked.

“Think of your everyday activities. Not just as Phoebe the chef but as Phoebe who just rolled out of bed. Consider what you do first, second, third, etcetera. Same is true for every waking moment until you go to sleep. Whatever products you use, stockpile a lot of it. Make sure you buy for both men and women, if you know what I mean.”

“I understand. We’re gonna need more storage space.”

Hank closed his eyes and nodded. “If you order this afternoon, when will the trucks deliver to us?”

“Tomorrow, first thing. As long as it’s in by seven this evening, it’ll be dropped off early in the morning.”

“Good. We’ll find the space to store it.”

She continued to ask for direction. “What about perishables? Produce, dairy, stuff like that.”

“Order as much as your walk-in coolers can handle. We can keep them running with our generators until the food is gone.”

“Why would we need generators?”

“For when the power goes out.”

Phoebe sat back in her chair and removed her glasses. She stared at Hank for a long, uncomfortable moment. She finally spoke. “When? Or if?”

Hank exhaled. “We need to prepare for the worst, Phoebe. If nothing happens, then we have a lot of extra food and supplies to use up before we buy any more. Here’s the way I look at what we’re doing today. It’s kinda like buying insurance. I invest in peace of mind with every payment to Chubb. I hope nothing happens, but if it does, I have