Nuclear Winter Series by Akart, Bobby (recommended ebook reader .TXT) 📗

shelves and then revealed himself, ready to shoot. Each time, nobody materialized. At the last aisle, he glanced to his left at a tall L’Oreal display and then down the aisle.

Still nothing.

He took a chance. “Jackie!”

He sensed movement. He swung around and pointed his weapon at the display. It moved slightly, so Peter crouched into a shooting position.

“Peter, here I am.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Sunday, October 27

Driftwood Key

“Everything seems odd, doesn’t it?” asked Hank as Mike and Jessica joined him for a breakfast of eggs and fish. Phoebe had warned everyone that their meals would begin to become unexciting and simple. There were plenty of fish in the sea, she’d quipped. Then she reminded them that their regular fish diet would be coupled with perishables in case the power went out permanently.

“That’s an understatement, Hank,” said Mike, laughing. “What was your first clue?”

“No, you know what I mean. I had a routine that I’d lived by for years and years. Guests came and went. There were regular chores to do, and then sometimes, we’d have something out of the ordinary to break up the monotony.”

“I’ll say this,” said Jessica with a mouthful of food. She pointed her fork toward the main highway. “Out there, those partying fools haven’t missed a beat. It’s the darndest thing. They all agree it’s the end of the world as we know it. What they disagree on is what to do about it.”

Mike shook his head and finished his meal. “We’ve really got our hands full, Hank. I told Jess that we’re surrounded by four different groups. There are the locals, like us, who’re kinda adopting a hunker-down-and-see-what-happens-next approach.

“Then you got the inbound tourists, who, by the way, babe, we’re gonna shut out starting this afternoon.”

Jessica leaned back in her chair. “They’re cutting off the island?”

Mike nodded. “Outbound only unless they can provide proof of residency such as a driver’s license or a deed.”

“Wow, that’s big,” said Jessica.

“The Conch Republic rises from the ashes,” added Hank with a smile.

Mike explained, “Well, we’ve caught bits and pieces on the news of things Hank’s already learned from the Ag secretary and Peter. Hell, we can see and feel it for ourselves. It’s getting colder. A little bit at a time, but noticeable.”

Jessica nodded in agreement. “The haze started before the bombs dropped here. It’s a lot worse than Thursday.”

“People in the southeast who weren’t impacted by the EMP or the blackouts began to drive south as the news media frightened everyone with this nuclear winter thing,” said Mike. “The consensus seems to be that the best place to be in America is the southernmost point—Key West.”

“Just where the hell do they expect to stay?” asked Hank.

“Wherever, apparently,” Mike replied. “If they run out of gas, they take up residency off the side of the road and use their car as a temporary shelter. They’re offering outrageous sums of money to hotel owners to let them stay there. All cash transactions. If they don’t have money, they’re breaking into any structure they can find. Hell, the owner of the Marathon boatyard ran off several families who pried open yachts and settled in for the night.”

Hank asked a logical question. “Okay, so we’ve all got our passports from the Conch Republic and have sworn allegiance and all of that. Big deal. But can Monroe County legally cut itself off from the rest of the state? The whole country for that matter.”

“I guess we’ll find out,” replied Mike. “The sheriff radioed me this morning and told us to report to the Key Largo Fire Department at Reef Drive. We’re gonna close off the access and send people back up north.”

“What if they refuse?” asked Jessica. “We let nonviolents out of jail yesterday.”

Mike shrugged. “Again, I don’t know, but I will say this. It’s absolutely necessary. The other tourists who remained in the Keys are causing a helluva problem. They’re almost lawless. They stay drunk. They tear shit up. They know there aren’t enough cops to stop them. It’s just a matter of time before the locals start taking the law into their own hands.”

“Where are the hotspots?” asked Hank.

“Key West and Key Largo,” replied Jessica.

Mike added, “I’m speculating now, but if it were me, I’d close off the Keys and stop the bleeding, so to speak. Then we’d systematically throw out everyone who doesn’t belong here.”

Hank scowled. “That’s kinda harsh, isn’t it?”

“Not really,” Mike shot back. “It’s not that different from what you had to do here.”

“I was giving those people a head start based upon a hunch,” argued Hank. “If they got stuck here, we wouldn’t be able to feed them.”

“Same thing out there,” countered Mike. “The grocery stores are closed, not because of the brownouts, but because they’re empty. When I say empty, I’m talking about everything. Publix maintained its normal pricing, and they were emptied first. The C-Stores and mom-and-pops jacked their prices up, and they still sold virtually everything in sight. Hell, twenty-pound bags of ice were goin’ for a hundred bucks.”

Hank didn’t respond. He was pensive as he thought about the fate of those he’d sent home. He hoped he did the right thing.

“We need to get going,” said Jessica, taking advantage of the pause in the conversation. It wasn’t heated between the two brothers, but it certainly could’ve headed that way if their difference of opinion became an argument.

Hank cleared the table as the two sheriff’s department employees headed out for the day. Jimmy and Sonny were tending to the hydroponics and greenhouses. Hank intended to cover any of the machinery used on Driftwood Key with a tarp or at least plastic sheeting to shield it from the smoky air.

When he entered the kitchen, Phoebe was in the middle of a project.

“You look like a chemist,” he said with a chuckle. “What are you up to?”

“While I have power, I’m working up several batches of essential oils that we might need.”

“Does it have to do with one of your conch concoctions?” asked Hank jokingly. Phoebe