Desolation

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Thursday, November 14

Driftwood Key

The group stayed up into the night as everyone relayed their experiences that day. Lacey, Tucker and Peter encountered a dozen separate instances of people wandering across the private bridge leading onto Driftwood Key. Most of the stragglers appeared harmless and quickly turned when they were subtly threatened by the guards’ rifles. Between the sunglasses to block glare, the surgical masks to protect them from the soot-filled air, and the guns, most interlopers immediately left. However, everyone agreed this was a sign of things to come.

Sonny and Jimmy went fishing together. They had quite a haul. That afternoon, the Frees worked diligently to clean and then smoke the fish. Phoebe was an expert at preparing the brine mixture so that once the smoked fish was prepared, it could be preserved for up to three weeks. It was an excellent source of protein and served as a great snack for when some of them were off the key or patrolling the perimeter of their island.

Jimmy provided everyone an honest assessment of his recovery, and Sonny confirmed it. Peter was now declared to be a hundred percent, and Jimmy felt he’d be there in a day or so. To avoid complications requiring a return trip to the hospital, he agreed to take it easy until Jessica signed off.

Everyone started their day. Mike was concerned for Jessica because he’d left the sheriff’s department on what might be described as bad terms. His resignation hadn’t exactly been under amicable conditions. Jessica had been on a roving duty status, which meant she would be on call from Marathon northward toward Islamorada. If she received a call on her marine radio for any reason that required her to travel toward Key West, she’d ignore it.

Hank, Erin, and Mike convened in the war room on the second floor of the main house. Following the shoot-out at the high school, Mike had had the presence of mind to grab several boxes of chalk off a utility rack in the warehouse. This was helpful as the three plotted out their day.

While they spoke, Erin transferred edited video snippets and photographs from her iPhone to Hank’s and Mike’s using her Lightning cable. As they made their rounds, they’d show the videos and pictures to prove Lindsey’s intentions.

“Mike, how many sheriff’s deputies are located in the Middle and Upper Keys?” asked Hank, who went on to qualify his question, “And by deputies, I mean the real ones not the recruits like Jimmy.”

“It’s not that many,” he replied with a grimace. “Four here and another four in Islamorada. Key Largo has the most, as they were too far away for Jock to summon to Key West.”

“Are your people loyal to you or the sheriff?” Erin asked.

“Before yesterday, I would say definitely me. Now that I’m out, the dynamic has shifted. It’s the first order of business when I leave here this morning.”

“Okay,” began Hank. “Even if they’re wary of their relationship with you, in light of these pictures, can you get them to stand up to the sheriff?”

Mike shook his head. “TBD. I’ll try to be convincing. It’s a big ask, Hank, because they’re gonna be promised the moon. You know, in terms of feeding their families.”

“We have to try to do the same,” interjected Erin. “I have an idea in that regard.”

“What is it?” asked Mike.

“Well, do you have access to the county-owned buildings in your, um, former district?”

“Yeah, unless my deputies were told to lock me out,” he replied. “I’m hoping Jock got distracted after what happened at Winn-Dixie. That’s why I want to get to my people before he remembers he’s mad at me.”

Erin explained her reason for asking. “If you’re successful, I think we need to raid their buildings before they make an effort to raid ours. We also need a means of storage and dissemination. It has to be a place we feel is secure and overseen by those we trust.”

“Churches,” said Hank.

Erin smiled and winked at Hank. “Exactly! First off, churches have been there to help their communities throughout history. In a crisis, denominations and beliefs don’t usually come into play. It’s not like politics. At least not in the Keys, I hope.”

“This is a great idea,” said Mike. “You know, I’ve known the rector, Reverend Canon Debbie Messina, at St. Columba for a while now. She is a great person and will certainly be open to helping out. Plus, they have a recreation center that can hold food and supplies. They’re not on the main highway like some of the other churches, so it could fly under the radar of Jock’s people.”

“It’s also near the high school, so transferring the food and supplies down the street will be quick and easy,” added Hank.

“Will you see her?” asked Erin.

Mike nodded. “First thing after I determine where I stand with the deputies. I’ll approach a couple more churches, one on each end of Marathon.”

Hank added a thought. “I believe this will make it easier to bring other business owners on board if they know that a nongovernmental entity like a church will be involved with distribution to those in need. It’ll be a tough sell if we have to take on a role not that dissimilar from what Lindsey and Jock are doing.”

“Fellas, I have one more concern,” began Erin. “I’m not saying that Mike made our task more difficult. The separation was inevitable. However, we no longer have an insider at the sheriff’s department. We need to establish some means of surveillance and warning. And, like we discussed in the trip down to Key West yesterday morning, we need to consider blocking the Seven Mile Bridge to thwart their efforts.”

Mike agreed. “I’ve thought about both of those things. I know several guys who have powerful winches on the front of their trucks. I wanna get them on board, but once I do, my idea is to drag the vehicles until they’re parked sideways. Maybe even flatten their tires so they can’t easily be moved.”

“Are we okay with closing off access to Key West?” asked Hank.

“It wouldn’t be completely closed off. Pedestrian and bicycle traffic would still go back and forth. Just not Jock’s SWAT vehicles. Besides, there’s always the option to travel by water.”

Erin unplugged her phone from Mike’s and handed it to him. He thumbed through his apps and opened the photos to look at the images.

She addressed the surveillance issue, drawing on her newfound knowledge of the Keys’ geography. “We need some people to camp out at Big Pine Key and let us know when there’s activity there.”

Hank stood and shoved his phone in his pocket. He was anxious to get started. “Let’s make that part of our conversations today with everyone. First, we have to convince them this is necessary by letting them know what’s happening in Key West and that soon it’ll be at our doorstep. Once that’s done, we’ll recruit manpower to help.”

“Do you think they’ll be on board?” asked Erin.

Mike laughed and wrapped his arm around his brother’s shoulders. “Oh, yeah. Fear is a great motivator.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Thursday, November 14

Marathon

Prior to the collapse, there were eight thousand full-time residents located in Marathon and the adjacent keys. Four weeks after the nuclear wars broke out, the population had been cut to less than half. Many had traveled north to be with family. Many had died.

Mayor Juan Ramirez, who owned the local electrical supply store, had been a fixture in the community for a generation. His family of carpenters and electricians had helped build the homes at Key Colony Beach, an upscale community on the Atlantic Ocean side of the Keys. As his family aged, they turned to construction-related retailing. They owned an Ace Hardware franchise as well as the electrical supply business. His sister operated a gardening center specializing in hydroponic gardening and container gardening.

Hank had relied heavily upon Lisa Ramirez when he constructed the greenhouses and hydroponic system for Driftwood Key. She helped him assimilate the key’s sandy soil with bags of dirt they imported from the mainland to create a soil mixture that would produce vegetables, herbs, and fruit for years.

She’d also taught him the importance of the seeds he chose. They recommended non-GMO, microgreen seeds in addition to heirloom seeds. The term non-GMO meant the seeds were not created with the use of genetic engineering. Some GMO crops were modified to make them resistant to certain antibiotics. This resistance was then directly passed on to humans either through eating the vegetable or indirectly by eating a meat product that fed on GMO feed. There was a growing concern globally that humans were becoming increasingly resistant to antibiotics and therefore susceptible to a wide range of bacterial or viral infections.

Microgreens could easily be grown from seed to salad in just a week. Full of intense flavor coupled with high nutritional value, a small portion of the flavorful stems and leaves provided a powerful punch of nutrition.

Heirloom seeds enabled the grower to save seeds from harvested fruits and vegetables to be used in the next growing season. Just as important, during a catastrophic event like nuclear winter, heirloom seeds were not genetically modified to ripen all at once like hybrid or GMO seeds. In a world in which refrigeration and lines of distribution were virtually nonexistent, the heirloom seeds enabled growers to sustain themselves year-round if they had a means to grow the plants.

Hank and Erin had arrived at the mayor’s office early that morning. While they waited, Hank provided some background.

“Juan has been the mayor for years, and he’s the closest thing I’ve ever seen to someone being apolitical. I mean, I’m not even sure he identifies with one party or the other. If you talk to him, he might lean a little bit to the left side of the spectrum on social issues, but then he’s always preaching fiscal responsibility when he chairs the city council meetings. The bottom line, I guess, is that Juan always tries to do the right thing for the people who live here.”

“How many would that be?” she asked.

“Eight thousand, maybe? I’d say ninety percent of those are white, not that it matters. It’s a funny thing about the Keys. We’re all kinda color-blind down here.”

“What’s his relationship to Lindsey?”

“Neutral, at least in Juan’s eyes. He didn’t back anyone in Lindsey’s races.”

Erin stared across the highway at the Marathon airport. A few fixed-wing aircraft remained parked on the tarmac. It appeared most who had the ability to fly left. She found that ironic, as Lindsey’s biggest fear was the Keys being inundated by outsiders, yet those who had the ability to bypass her roadblocks through the air chose not to.

“Here’s the thing about politicians, Hank. They are constantly feeling out fellow politicians to determine where they stand. The phrase you’re either with us or against us very much applies to their interaction with others of their ilk. Your friend may not admit it to us, but there’s a reason he didn’t throw his support behind Lindsey. I hope we can use that to our advantage.”

“Here he comes,” said Hank, interrupting Erin. He pointed toward the windshield. “It looks like Lisa is with him. We can cover a lot of ground this morning.”

Hank and Erin exited the truck. They casually stood by while the mayor and his wife parked. It had been more than a month since the two men had spoken, but their warm greeting spoke volumes.

Hank introduced Erin, who struck up a conversation with Lisa about their common interest—agribusiness. While they talked, Juan led them into the recently renovated, one-story building.

“Bear with me until we get to my office,” Juan began as he waited for the women to enter before locking the door. “It’s a little dark in the hallway, and I apologize for the musty smell. It’s amazing how quickly the humidity invades a building when there isn’t any air circulation or filtration.”

As he led them through the hallway, Hank glanced inside the offices of the staff. The desks were neat and tidy. Files had been put away and chairs straightened. It was if the entire City of Marathon government had been sent on vacation and told to keep their workspaces presentable until they returned.

Juan noticed Hank glancing into each door. “This catastrophe is tragic on so many levels, Hank. I come in to work every day although I don’t know why. I guess it’s out of a sense of obligation to the people I serve. I mean, look around this building. These offices were occupied by civil servants who helped our town grow. They provided fire protection. They ensured businesses properly engaged with their customers. They collected taxes and paid the city’s bills. All daily activities that have ceased to function.”

He paused as he stood aside, gesturing for the group to enter his corner office near the main entrance facing Overseas Highway and the airport. While they waited, he moved to each corner of the room and turned on several battery-operated Coleman lanterns that provided a soft, warm glow to their surroundings.

The local mayor continued. “Anyway, what brings you to city hall? I don’t get many visitors.”

Hank exchanged glances with Erin, and then he took a deep breath. He was going to ask Juan to pick a side, something out of character for the independent-minded mayor.

“Juan, Lisa, there’s trouble coming.”

Lisa chuckled. “It can’t be worse than the hurricane.”

Erin, who’d established a rapport during her brief conversation with the mayor’s wife because of their common interest in agricultural issues, addressed her comment. “Yes, unfortunately, it is. Mayor Lindsey Free is on a rampage in Key West, and she intends to bring it to Marathon within days.”

“Are you talking about the raids?” asked Juan.

“We’ve heard rumors,” interjected Lisa.

Erin looked at Hank for approval as she retrieved her iPhone from her pocket. He provided her an imperceptible nod and returned his attention to Juan and Lisa.

“We witnessed her actions firsthand yesterday. I caught it on video. Please understand something. This is raw and unedited. And, um, disturbing.”

Erin navigated to the video she’d taken. She made sure her phone’s volume was up, and she pressed the play button. She leaned forward and turned the phone so they could watch.

Their reactions were not unexpected. Juan’s face grew red with anger, although once he closed his eyes for a long moment in an effort to unsee what he’d seen. Lisa’s mouth fell open, and she unconsciously covered it. Her eyes began to well up in tears as the visuals of people being beaten and shot by sheriff’s deputies filled the phone’s screen. When the video was finished, Erin offered to show them the photographs she’d taken, but both said they’d seen enough.

Juan was the first to speak. “This happened yesterday?”

“Yes, at the Winn-Dixie,” Hank answered. “The day before that, something similar happened at Gordon’s Food Service down the street. Juan, Lindsey has instructed Jock to take whatever steps are necessary to strip businesses of their assets. Food, water and gasoline are high on their priority lists, but we’ve been told they are taking everything of value.”

“For what purpose?” Juan asked.

“Using Lindsey’s words,” Hank began to reply, “the greater good.”

Juan began shaking his head before leaning back in his chair to stare at the ceiling. He was genuinely angry. “This doesn’t surprise me about Lindsey. She’s always been someone who felt she could tell you how to run your life or business because she thought she knew better. However, Jock …” His voice trailed off.

Erin spoke up. “I’m an outsider, so my opinion should not carry the same weight as the three of you. It seems that the sheriff has been placed in an untenable position. Perhaps he agrees with Lindsey’s plans and therefore devised a mechanism to carry them out. I think he underestimated the desperation of the people. Business owners are not going to stand idly by while their businesses are raided.”

Lisa bowed up in her chair. “This one certainly isn’t.”

“Our philosophies have always differed from Lindsey’s,” added Juan. “She believes in giving a man a fish. I believe in teaching him to fish.” He was referring to the quote from Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu, which translated as give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach him how to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.

“We agree one hundred percent,” said Hank. “And we have an idea that you can help us implement. But first, we have to protect ourselves, Juan. Lindsey and Jock’s people are coming for us. By us, I mean your business and my business, and everyone else in Marathon who has anything she might want.”

“What are you suggesting?” asked Juan.

Hank took a deep breath and exhaled. “We need to circle the wagons and then rally the community to help one another.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Thursday, November 14

Marathon

As predicted, the deputies under Mike’s command in Marathon knew nothing of his resignation. They also had no idea how violent some of the confiscation raids had become. When he met with them that morning at the offices they’d assumed in the county clerk’s annex, he considered delaying the revelation that he was no longer their boss. Instead, he chose to be completely transparent and forthcoming. It was a decision that earned him even more respect from the small detail assigned to protect Marathon and Lower Matecumbe Key. Now he had to convince them of the larger role he needed them to play.

“I am not going to ask you to violate the oath you took when you became a deputy. Nor am I going to ask you to break any laws, although which laws are enforceable and which aren’t at this point is hard to determine. I might ask, however, for you to remain focused on Marathon, where you and your families live.

“You all grew up here. This is where your kids went to school. You have to understand, for the foreseeable future, this is our world. These Keys, strung together, are going to have to sustain us for many years. In order for that to happen, the people who survive have to know they can count on you to protect them and, most importantly, do the right thing by them. That means opposing Lindsey’s plans for Monroe County. Unfortunately, that also means standing up to our boss. Or, in my case, former boss. You guys need to pick a side.”

“What do you need us to do?” asked Deputy Sanchez, who’d gained tremendous respect for Mike during the high school break-in.

“Protect and serve.”

“That’s a given,” said Sanchez. “I mean, how can we protect our people?”

“Initially two things. Please give me the courtesy of a heads-up if you hear something from the sheriff or if you no longer think I’m doing the right thing for our neighbors and families.”

“Agreed,” said two of the deputies in unison.

“Second, I’m not asking you to participate in what I’m going to do this afternoon.”

“What is it?” asked Sanchez.

Mike took a deep breath. If he was going to alienate the deputies, it would happen at this point. He chose to remind him of the video and images he’d shown him at the start of their meeting. He showed them the screen again where the video had paused. One of the deputies in riot gear was beating a man cowered on the ground.

“I refuse to allow what happened in Key West in the last few days to occur in Marathon. I’m going to stop them from coming across Seven Mile Bridge.”

“How?”

“Create the traffic jam from hell.”

Mike went from referencing hell to visiting a woman who led lost souls to Heaven. He arrived at St. Columba Episcopal Church and was surprised at the number of people who were amassed outside its doors. Despite the fact that he was no longer a deputy, Mike pulled on the lightweight jacket bearing the sheriff’s department logo. The jacket, combined with his appearance as somebody associated with the authorities, enabled him to gently push his way through the crowd to enter the church. He was amazed at what he’d discovered.

Once inside the narthex, he found tables lined up with church elders handing out bagged meals and bottled water. He searched out Reverend Messina, who was affectionately known as Reverend Deb in the community. She wasn’t among the church elders, so he moved through the narthex.

The sanctuary had been turned into a massive refuge for those who’d lost everything. Every pew was full of blankets, pillows, and a person’s belongings. Some people slept while others read books, including the Bible. Many were deep in thought and prayer. Mike shook his head in disbelief at the number of people who’d been packed into the church. They were in generally good spirits, but the look of despair on their faces wasn’t lost on him.

He set his jaw and stood a little taller, resolved to continue his family’s efforts to help as many people as they could. He spotted Reverend Messina leaning with one arm on the pulpit. She was casually dressed in jeans together with a light blue shirt and her white collar.

“Reverend Deb, I don’t know if you—” began Mike before she recognized him and politely interrupted.

“Of course I do, Detective. It’s so good to see that you’re well. I hope your family is, too.”

Mike nodded, and then his mind wandered to Owen. He genuinely liked Lacey’s husband and really hadn’t had the time to process what his death meant to the Albright family. He wondered if the passage of time might prevent them from properly mourning his loss.

“My niece, Lacey, lost her husband as she and Tucker traveled home. It was tragic, but they’re doing okay.”

“I’m so sorry, Mike. Please convey my heartfelt condolences. His name was Owen, am I correct?”

Mike was surprised that Reverend Messina remembered. He wasn’t even sure they had met. “Yes, it is, um, was.”

She reached out and patted Mike on the shoulder. “Please, let’s talk for a moment. I could use a respite.” She directed Mike’s attention to the carpeted steps leading behind the pulpit. She sat first.

“Thanks for taking the time for me when you have so much going on,” said Mike as he joined her.

“God’s work, Mike,” she said as she tugged at her clerical collar. She noticed Mike watching her, so she explained. “Habit, of course. You know, there’s an old joke among us clergy types that a curate wears a collar at all times, even a shower. Most, like me, wear them at all times, although not in the shower. Even during this devilish disaster, I find it to be a comfort to my parishioners and, honestly, to myself. God has placed us in quite a test, don’t you think?”

Mike nodded and glanced throughout the church. There were at least a hundred people residing in the small sanctuary.

“I do, and that’s why I’m here,” he replied. “Reverend Deb, the other day a group of men broke into the food-storage warehouse at the high school. We were successful in stopping them. However, they breached the building in such a way that the supplies could easily be stolen.”

“I heard the shooting. One of the residents is a church elder. I didn’t know that involved you since, you know, you’re a detective.”

Mike gulped. He hadn’t lied to his deputies, so he’d darn well better not lie to Reverend Messina. He explained the circumstances regarding his resignation and offered to show her the pictures from Key West. She respectfully declined and assured him she would trust his judgment.

They spoke for a moment about the logistics of what he wanted to accomplish. The reverend promised to help by sending out her two most trusted aides to recruit other churches in Marathon to assist in the humanitarian project. With his approval and the deputies’ supervision, they’d handle the removal of the supplies from the high school.

In the past, Reverend Messina had helped many people in crisis, especially during hurricanes. She’d established a program known as the Five-Dollar Bag Sale. Members of her congregation would donate clothes, toys, tools and other household items to be included in simple, brown grocery bags. For a five-dollar donation to the Hammock House, a local charity, purchasers could receive a wide variety of useful things for their homes.

“We are a close-knit group of clergy across all denominations,” she explained. “Our parish strives to be a strong partner in the community, which is why I’ve been involved in so many charitable endeavors. Other churches in Marathon also offer consistent and tangible ways to help people in need. I have no doubt everyone will pitch in.”

Mike smiled and thanked her for her assistance. In addition to making an important partner to help people survive nuclear winter, his day was now freed up to systematically create the mother of all bottlenecks on Seven Mile Bridge.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Thursday, November 14

Near Big Pine Key

Lacey and Tucker volunteered to conduct surveillance along the Lower Keys to monitor the sheriff’s department confiscation teams. There was too much ground to cover between Big Pine Key and Key West, so they opted to use the boat given to Peter by Captain Jax in order to search for Jimmy.

The nondescript center-console fishing boat was like thousands of others found through the Keys. It was stripped down and devoid of the modern accoutrements found on most boats capable of fishing on the ocean and gulf waters. Nonetheless, it served their purpose.

Peter had left it adrift in Little Basin near Islamorada when it ran out of fuel that day. He’d tried in vain to locate Jimmy and simply ran the vessel for as long as he could. They’d retrieved it on the way back from Florida Bay after Jimmy had been found and taken to the hospital aboard Jessica’s boat.

The fishing boat was one of several new acquisitions that had been added to the Driftwood Key fleet. Because there were too many to tie off to the dock, the fishing boat was moored just off the beach. Of all the boats in their possession, this particular boat was considered a throwaway. In other words, if it was lost, damaged or stolen, there was no great loss.

Lacey’s memory of the waters surrounding the Keys had returned. Like her brother and Jimmy, she enjoyed the turquoise blue waters. She’d frequently traveled to visit friends in the Lower Keys by water, avoiding the often-congested traffic on A1A.

At Jessica’s suggestion, she crossed into the Atlantic through Knight Key at the start of the Seven Mile Bridge. This would enable them to closely monitor the highway from a safe distance as it hopscotched from key to key between Key West and Marathon.

Sonny and Phoebe packed up food and water for the two of them to stay away several days if necessary. They would try to stay in communication via their marine radios and the two-way radios Mike had taken from the MCSO supply depot. If they observed a potential threat headed their way, they could quickly make their way back to Driftwood Key by water.

Before they left, the group had gathered in the war room in the main house to brief Lacey and Tucker on where to focus their attention. Based upon the first few days of the sheriff’s raids, it appeared grocery stores and wholesale food warehouses were the primary targets.

They discussed each of the keys in between Stock Island near the sheriff’s department and Marathon. Most of the islands were small and primarily residential. The three most likely to garner Sheriff Jock’s attention would be Big Coppitt, the closest to Key West, followed by Cudjoe Key and then Big Pine Key, where Seven Mile Bridge terminated in the Lower Keys.

“This is Shark Channel,” said Lacey as she slowed down in the shallow waters just off Big Coppitt Key. “Uncle Mike thinks the sheriff may bypass Big Coppitt altogether. Let’s hang out here for a while and see if anything develops.”

Tucker had grabbed the high-powered binoculars off Hank’s Hatteras before they left. He handed them to his mom so she could focus on the stretch of highway running through the center of the Key. Tucker would scan the highway that crossed the channel and watch for any boats that might approach them.

After an hour or so during which time they made small talk, Tucker brought up Owen. “I think about Dad every day. I really feel guilty because, um, it’s like I can’t really remember everything. There’s no reminders of him anywhere, you know?”

Lacey, who was wearing dark, polarized sunglasses, nodded. The sunglasses helped her hide the tears welling up in her eyes. “That’s understandable, son. I miss your Dad more than anyone can imagine. It’s just, well, since he died, you and I have been forced to survive alone for most of the time. After we survived the hurricane, my thoughts were focused on our safety. There will come a time when we can sit down and reminisce about your dad. We’ll be able to laugh as we recall our good times together. The memories may have faded for now, but they’re not forgotten or abandoned.”

Tucker fell silent as he absorbed her words. He turned his attention away from the highway and studied the activity, or lack thereof, at Naval Air Station Key West. He couldn’t see any military aircraft. There was a single Coast Guard helicopter near an administration building, but it had been covered to protect it from the hurricane. It was as if the military airport had been abandoned by the government, along with the rest of the Keys.

“I’ve got something, Mom,” announced Tucker suddenly. “Use your binoculars to look across the runways toward the highway. Doesn’t that look like a convoy of trucks. I mean, those first four are like those MRAPs they used in Oakland to deal with the riots.” MRAP was a military term for mine-resistant ambush protected tactical vehicle. They were similar in style to the SWAT vehicles deployed by the sheriff’s department for their tactical raids.

“I see them!” she said excitedly. “There are several patrol cars behind them, followed by at least six box trucks. You know, like U-Hauls and Budget trucks.”

“Are they slowing down?” asked Tucker.

Lacey didn’t immediately respond as she followed the convoy until they disappeared from sight for a moment.

Then Tucker answered his own question. “Here they come! They’re crossing the bridge to …” His voice trailed off, as he didn’t know the name of the small island that was next in the chain.

Lacey quickly lowered her glasses. “They’re headed for Sugarloaf. Hold on!”

She handed Tucker the binoculars and quickly slid behind the center console. She fired up the engines and took off toward the ocean, winding their way past Pelican Key at full throttle. As soon as she cleared the shallow reefs, she veered to the left and gripped the wheel. The fishing boat refused to plane out, so their ride was bumpy as she sped along the desolate beaches of Saddlebunch Keys. She was finally able to suppress her adrenaline and trimmed the engine so the boat was riding over the water to encounter less wave resistance.

“Where are we going?” asked Tucker, who continued to grip the handles of the center console.

“I’m gonna take us deep into Cudjoe Bay so we can get a good look at them as they go by. Uncle Mike wanted us to get vehicle and personnel counts. We’ll want to be settled in as they go past our position. I don’t wanna draw any attention.”

“Gotcha,” said Tucker, who pulled out several sheets of copy paper that had been stapled together. It was a list of grocery stores and markets located on each of the major keys they were tasked with surveilling.

“Mom, there really aren’t any places for them to raid on Cudjoe Key, according to this list. There’s a little seafood store and a couple of restaurants. The next store is on Summerland Key called Murray’s Market. I can’t imagine it’s big enough for all those guys to bother with.”

Lacey slowed her pace as she turned the boat toward Cudjoe Bay. She glanced toward the list, so Tucker folded the pages to make them easier for her to read while she navigated closer to U.S. 1. As she entered the center of the small bay, she throttled back and studied the list.

Darkness was approaching, although the perpetually hazy skies didn’t give them much warning of the lateness of the day.

“You’re right. I wonder …” Lacey paused, her voice trailing off as she kept her thought to herself.

“What is it, Mom?”

She pointed toward the binoculars that Tucker had set into a pouch on the port side of the boat. He retrieved them, and she got her bearings straight.

“Do you have the Sharpie?”

Tucker retrieved it from his pocket and waved it in front of him. “Yep.”

“Okay. I’m gonna call out what I see, and you make notes. Then we’re gonna haul our cookies to Big Pine Key to see if they make it that far. In the meantime, I need to call Uncle Mike and let him know what’s going on. I hope he’s ready.”

CHAPTER FORTY

Thursday, November 14

Seven Mile Bridge

Mike threw his two-way radio into the front seat of his truck and wandered around the concrete pavement, running his fingers through his sweaty hair. This was happening way too fast. He thought he’d have days, if not a week or more, to prepare the bridge and get Marathon ready. He’d miscalculated, and now he’d have to ask the impossible of his tired volunteers.

After he left his meeting with Reverend Deb, Mike drove through Marathon, touching base with his acquaintances who owned trucks with winches. He was appreciative of Reverend Deb’s offer to recruit the other churches for him. It took an inordinate amount of time to explain why he needed the men’s help, and once they were convinced, he had to get fuel for their trucks. It was already early afternoon when they’d gathered at the start of Seven Mile Bridge. After a lengthy back-and-forth on the best way to approach the problem, they began.

Unfortunately for Mike’s schedule, it was agreed they had to clear the road in order to clog it up again. The stalled and abandoned vehicles were in the way of the far end of Seven Mile Bridge closest to Big Pine Key. They had to clear one lane to get there. It was determined that the group of six trucks be split into two teams of three. One would focus on clearing a lane for the other. They leapfrogged down the two-lane highway for most of the afternoon. They were midway through the process of doing so when Lacey reached Mike on the radio.

“Okay,” began Mike after he gathered himself. He waved down the men, who shut off their trucks and joined him. He passed out bottled water and allowed them to catch their breath before he explained. “They’re approaching Big Pine Key. It hasn’t been their normal MO to conduct these raids at night, so I wanna believe they’re staging for tomorrow.”

“What if they’re coming now?” asked one of the men. “We just made it really damn easy for ’em.”

Mike didn’t need to be reminded of that fact. He had two options. “Well, we could work under the assumption they’re gonna stop for the afternoon and pick it up again tomorrow morning.”

“That’s possible, Mike,” began one of the men. “But here’s the thing. If they keep on coming, we’re busted. I don’t wanna go head-to-head with Jock’s people after the video you showed me.”

“I’m with him,” said another volunteer. “Maybe we oughta just cut bait and hope for the best?”

“That would be a helluva mistake,” said Mike. “I get that you guys don’t want to gamble taking this all the way to Big Pine Key. I can’t really disagree with that.”

One of the men interrupted Mike. “Big Pine is barely a mile wide. If they’re gonna make camp, or whatever, they’ll be able to see and hear us in the dark. They’ll be all over us, Mike.”

Mike knew they were right. The risk was too great. They were halfway down the bridge. Three miles of gridlock was better than none.

“Let’s do this,” he began. “We’ll start our road blockage right here at the halfway point. We can start towing cars from down the highway, leaving enough room for our trucks to get through. Then, one by one, we’ll pull ’em sideways and flatten the tires. It’ll take them forever to clear the mess.”

“Then what?” asked one of the men who was the most argumentative.

Mike screamed the answer in his head. I don’t know! That’s my brother’s job!

He took a deep breath before he verbally responded, “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” He instantly cringed at the corny pun. However, it served to ease the tension between him and his volunteers, who found the use of the expression incredibly funny under the circumstances.

So after a good laugh and a few slaps on the back, morale was high, and the men got to work again.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Thursday, November 14

Big Pine Key

After the caravan had passed and entered Big Pine Key, Lacey was off again. She had to rush to get to the other side of the island, as it was only a mile or so across. She had to travel well south through the aquatic preserve and then back around to the highway where it crossed the Spanish Harbor Channel.

Because the tide was low, they were able to ease the fishing boat through the half-moon bridge supports that held the bridge up between the two keys. This enabled them to get a direct point of view down the highway where the business district was located. Even as the tide rose, blocking their access back across the highway, Lacey was in position to race back to Driftwood Key from there.

“There they are, Mom,” said Tucker, who was using the high-powered binoculars. He had to look down a short stretch of street in a residential area that was lined with vegetation. The gray skies of nuclear winter had taken the lives of the trees, enabling Tucker to have a fairly unobstructed view. “They’re parked sideways across the highway. We’re too far away for me to see what they’re doing exactly.”

Lacey took the binoculars from Tucker and tried to get a better look. From memory, she thought they were a mile away or slightly more. She set the binoculars down and studied the house on pilings in front of them. Its hurricane shutters had all been closed, and there were no vehicles parked underneath. Furthermore, the dock jutting out into Harbor Channel was empty.

“Let’s get a closer look. Whadya think?”

“Will our stuff be okay?” asked Tucker.

Lacey looked at the camping gear she’d brought in case they needed to make their way onto one of the keys for the night. She took the other pair of binoculars and studied the home again. There was a fence together with a locked gate protecting it. The road ended at the water’s edge, and there were no signs of life.

“Yeah, let’s dock the boat.”

Fifteen minutes later, the two of them had tied off to the dock, and they were walking briskly up Avenue A toward US 1. By the time they reached the activity, another raid was in full swing.

An angry crowd of people had gathered at the intersection that led to Winn-Dixie. According to one onlooker Lacey spoke with, they had been informed by a deputy that the food was being confiscated to be sent to Key West.

Lacey considered warning them about the violence that had occurred in Key West but opted to stay out of the way. Her job was to conduct surveillance, not engage an angry mob.

“Mom, here come the trucks. The cops are walking them down the road with their guns.”

“They’re not messing around, Tucker. Let’s get back toward the boat.”

The people started to push toward the row of sheriff’s vehicles and the armed deputies lined up behind them. They began shouting at one another as the crowd became increasingly hostile. Most demanded that the trucks stop to share the food with the people who shopped there regularly.

Suddenly, the tactical vehicles appeared from behind the box trucks and began roaring toward the crowd. This startled the onlookers, who turned and fled in all directions. To force the issue, warning shots were fired by some of the deputies high over the head of the angry mob. They began pushing and shoving one another as they couldn’t get away fast enough.

Lacey and Tucker joined a group racing east on A1A. She turned slightly as she ran and saw the box trucks turning toward Key West. She counted six vehicles leaving along with two of the tactical vehicles. The rest of the convoy she and Tucker had counted earlier remained behind.

She grabbed Tucker by the arm and told him to stop. She pointed toward the canopy of a Tom Thumb convenience market, where the two of them settled in behind the gas pumps to avoid being seen. They waited for several minutes until the bulk of the crowd had dispersed, leaving the sheriff’s department personnel alone.

“Mom, we should go,” urged Tucker.

“In a minute. Let’s see where they go first.”

Lacey thought the confiscation teams would return to Key West and come back the next day. She was wrong.

Suddenly, they emerged from the side street and headed straight for the convenience store. They weren’t traveling fast, making Lacey wonder if they intended to empty out the small establishment. When they slowed near the entrance, her palms started to sweat. She looked around for a place to hide so they could avoid any contact with the SWAT teams.

Then, unexpectedly, they turned into the lumber yard that adjoined the Penske Truck Rental across the street. There were more than a dozen moving trucks parked along the fenced utility yard.

Lacey shook her head and mumbled as she counted the trucks again.

“Reinforcements.”