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

turned to Sonny. “What do you have Jimmy doin’ this morning?”

“Same as the others, really. Hurricane preparations. You know, putting away anything that’s not tied down. I don’t know what’s gonna happen, Mr. Hank, but your idea to treat it like a hurricane made perfect sense.”

“Did he fish this morning?” asked Hank.

Sonny gave him a puzzled look and then made a joke. “Ain’t nobody got time for fishin’ in the apocalypse.”

Hank laughed. At least that particular morning, anyway. Once the key was secured, they’d have to continue their daily routine, and fishing was a big part of it. The catch of the day, whether reeled in by Hank or Jimmy, fed the guests and those who resided on Driftwood Key. They’d need to continue that practice to avoid eating the foods stored by Phoebe. Besides, for Hank, it was therapeutic.

As they walked back to the main house, Jimmy emerged from a trail leading through a variety of palms to the corrugated storage building where all the beach chairs, umbrellas, and kayaks were stored.

“I put everything away, Mr. Hank. What’s next?”

Before Hank could answer, his phone rang. It was Mike.

“Hey, I thought you guys were gonna bring over your stuff this morning,” Hank answered without so much as a hello.

Mike spoke loudly over the sounds of running car engines and the occasional horn blaring. “Yeah, that was the plan. Jessica’s truck is loaded with our gear. Just as we were about to come over, we both got called in. The overseas highway is one helluva hot mess.”

“People leaving?”

“By the thousands,” Mike replied. “Central tried to treat it like a hurricane evac, but that was an epic fail. Sure, there are a lot of people spooked by all this nuke shit. They checked out early, trying to get a head start home. Either they all had the same idea at the same time, or this is just the beginning.”

“Why don’t you guys send all lanes northbound?”

“Because there are still people who don’t care about the news. They’d rather waste away in Margaritaville than see the doom and gloom on the television.”

“Geez. You’ve got ’em comin’ and goin’.”

“That’s right, Mr. Innkeeper. Not all of these hotels down here are as conscientious as you are. All of these people should stay home.”

“Well, they don’t know what we know either. Maybe the people in Washington should get a clue? Just put it all out there, and let adults decide for themselves.”

Horns started screaming in a variety of pitches. Mike screamed in the phone. “Hey! Back off, asshole!” He returned to the call. “Hank, I gotta run. We’ll get there as soon as possible.”

“Good luck.”

“Oh, Hank? One more thing. Jess is gonna bring the rescue boat this afternoon. She’s not comfortable leaving it at our place if we’re not gonna be staying there.”

Hank looked over at Jimmy and then glanced down the dock at his Hatteras. “I’ll have Jimmy make room.”

The SAFE Boat, its trademark name, had been purchased with grant funds from the Department of Homeland Security. Built for speed and endurance and designed to handle both Atlantic and Gulf waters in all conditions, the thirty-one-foot boat, used in numerous patrols and emergencies, had been credited with saving the lives of many people in distress over the years.

The inboard diesel jet boat had a weatherproof cabin with an eighteen-person capacity. Its top speed was about fifty-five mph. It was built to withstand harsh conditions, designed to be unsinkable, and was equipped with advanced technology, including radar and digital performance data. Jessica, a PADI-certified rescue diver, kept her tanks and gear on board at all times.

The two brothers disconnected the call just as the men reached the main house. Once inside, they found Phoebe sitting at a table in the bar, going over her ledgers and watching the news. The split screen revealed a scientist on one hand and a raging wildfire in India shown from the perspective aboard the International Space Station.

The screen switched to a graphic showing the spread of soot and debris from the nuclear war between India and Pakistan. Deep purple on the graphic indicated extensive soot coverage. The lighter tones of red were found on the outskirts of the cloud that spread across the planet. It stretched from Japan in the Far East across the whole of Europe.

The scientist then explained what his modeling projected. The billions of tons of soot in the air from the nuclear explosions and resulting wildfires would almost completely circumnavigate the Earth in just a matter of days. When pressed by the news host as to when it would dissipate, he simply shook his head and replied, “Years, hopefully.”

Chapter Forty-Three

Wednesday, October 23

Islamorada

Florida Keys

“It’s gonna take years to clear this damn traffic out of here!” Mike shouted to one of his fellow detectives relegated to traffic duty in response to the mass exodus out of the Florida Keys. Both men would rather be finding the serial killer in their midst rather than waving their arms and chiding motorists for driving along the shoulder to get ahead of the rest of those hustling home.

Panic had spread amongst the visitors as the second nuclear exchange not only provided Americans a glimpse into the aftermath of an attack but speculation began to ramp up as to what might happen next.

On the one hand, many had been pressuring President Helton to take a stance and join in the defense of America’s allies Israel and India. Political pundits had gone so far as to lay blame on the president for the Pakistani strikes because he’d failed to stand by Israel.

On the other hand, there were those who argued battles abroad, whether nuclear or conventional, were none of Washington’s concern unless they directly affected American interests.

Regardless of which political position the experts took, all agreed that the world had become increasingly unstable, and the threat of North Korea, China, and Russia joining the fray had increased exponentially.

The night before, Mike, Jessica and Hank had had their own roundtable discussion on the