Bobby Akart - Armageddon

“New toys?” asked Jessica, who kissed her husband on the cheek.

“Yeah, military stuff, too. Full-auto M4 carbines. The governor has declared martial law in Florida.”

“That’s not surprising considering the power situation,” said Jessica. “That may be why the sheriff pulled me off traffic and onto pirate patrol.” She pointed with her thumb over her shoulder toward the dock.

Mike looked past her and nodded. “I heard. In hindsight, I wish we’d tied those three amigos to the dock pilings and reported it.”

“Why? Who’s gonna investigate it? You?”

“True,” said Mike. “Actually, since the power’s been out all day, I’ve been unable to charge my radio, so I couldn’t reach you. They found another body in Key West.”

“Dammit,” muttered Jessica. “Same MO?”

“I hope so,” replied Mike.

Hank was confused. He stood a little taller and asked, “What does it mean?”

“Well, from what I was told, this guy has really stepped up his game. He’s gone from bludgeoning and hacking to more precise dismemberment using power tools.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Jessica. “Power tools?”

“How do you know this?” asked Hank.

“That’s why I’m here early,” began Mike in his response. “A few reasons, actually. I need to trade radios with you, Hank. Don’t you keep it charged in the kitchen?”

“Yeah. I haven’t used it although it’s turned on. Phoebe fires up the generator every four hours for forty-five minutes or so to keep the coolers’ temperatures where they belong. That also allows her to recharge the radio.”

“Yeah, it’s a rapid charger,” said Jess. She pulled her radio from her utility belt. “I charged mine on the boat. It’s good to go.”

The two traded radios, and then Mike continued. “It’s gonna be a late night for me. Here’s what I know.” He paused to take a deep breath and look around the beach. Then he explained, “Until today, the city was running their garbage pickups to try to maintain some semblance of sanitation around Key West. The bars are still opening at night despite the governor’s order to shut down. We don’t have the manpower to police it. Our priority has been to remove people from the Keys.

“Anyway, they didn’t pick up along Duval and Caroline Street this morning. Apparently, some transients were dumpster diving and opened up a few heavy-duty black trash bags. They found body parts.”

Jessica put her hands on her hips and walked in a circle, looking at the sky. “That’s the extent that this guy tried to cover his tracks? Trash bags in a dumpster?”

“Yep, apparently so,” replied Mike. He wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his wrist. Despite the falling temperatures, his adrenaline was causing him to overheat. “But here’s what it tells me. He’s likely a local. He’s got a place downtown where he feels he can comfortably dismember a body with a power tool of some kind without being discovered. He knows our routines, including the garbage pickup schedule. He’s brazen enough to casually dump the body in a dumpster without fear of being caught by a very overworked police department.”

“He’ll make a mistake because he’s getting cocky,” opined Hank.

“Very astute observation, Detective Hank Albright,” said his younger brother with a chuckle. He patted Hank on the shoulder. “I’m gonna head to the coroner’s office to look at the remains and study the area where the body was found. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll have a chance to meet this asshole.”

Tuesday, October 29

Holden, Utah

After filling the tank with fuel, Owen and Tucker worked together to strap the remaining containers to the top of the Bronco using heavy-duty ratchet straps they discovered in the maintenance shed. They ran the straps through the handles, under the roof into the interior of the truck and out the other side. The configuration still allowed them to close the doors while the fuel cans were firmly attached to the roof. Even at sixty-five miles an hour, the gas cans didn’t move.

As they finished their travels across Nevada, U.S. 50 lived up to its name as the Loneliest Road in America. They crossed into Utah and found that nothing much changed other than the weather.

Throughout the day, it was if a massive cold front was moving into the Rockies from Canada. Temperatures began to drop, and the dirty snow began to accumulate. With no other traffic on the road, Owen struggled to keep from dipping two wheels off the shoulder. The asphalt pavement was rough underneath the blowing snow, and the accumulation was growing as it drifted against the rock canyon walls that were only ten feet from the highway.

They drove through a valley near Sevier Lake that caused Owen to fight the wheel as seventy-mile-an-hour gusts threatened to blow them into the rocky flatlands on the south side of the highway. The drive eastward that would’ve ordinarily been smooth and fast was anything but. By the time they approached Interstate 15 where U.S. 50 merged for a short time, Owen was physically and mentally exhausted.

“At Holden, we’ll take the interstate north for five or six miles,” said Lacey as she tried to take Owen’s mind off the struggle. “Then, after a short ride around a mountain, we’ll pick up I-70 for a couple of hundred miles to Grand Junction in Colorado. From there, we can start working our way south and east.”

Owen glanced at the fuel gauge. It would be time to refill the tank soon. Also, it was getting dark fast. He didn’t want to fight this wind and not be able to see the where the pavement ended and the prairie began. It would be a disaster.

“Okay. Let’s start looking for a place. Does Holden look like a large town?”

“Nah. Just like the others. One stoplight and a handful of streets.”

Tucker had pushed himself onto the edge of the back seat and rested his elbows on his parents’ seatbacks. He pointed ahead to a sign. “There’s one of those Rotary Club signs. Looks like there’s a church and a school.”

“LDS,” muttered Owen. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was often informally referred to as the LDS or Mormon church.

“What are you thinking, honey?” asked Lacey.

Owen took a deep breath. “We were lucky at Echo Lake because the place was deserted. We’ve got a lot of nights on the road ahead of us, and each time we stop, we’re at risk. Somehow, I wanna believe a church might be a pretty safe place.”

“Mormons?” asked Tucker.

“Here’s the thing, Tuck,” Owen relayed his thoughts. “I grew up with members of the LDS church in my hometown. They were good people. Sure, they weren’t into the same types of things I was, and their families lived simple lives by comparison. That said, I remember them having an inner peace about them. They were a very close-knit group of people and lived a life of self-sufficiency. During the power outages caused by the fires, they still managed to stay in their homes, cook their meals, and tend to their farms.”

Lacey interrupted his thoughts. “There’s a sign that says we should turn up ahead.”

“Let’s try it, Dad.”

Owen smiled and nodded as he turned his blinker on out of habit. He laughed at himself and then turned it off again. They drove into town just as the sun was setting, at least the best they could tell. Darkness seemed to be the rule rather than the exception. That, coupled with the blowing snow, caused visibility to be poor and barely half a mile.

“There it is!” said Lacey excitedly. She was anxious for her husband to get some relief from the stress of driving. He refused to let anyone else take the wheel, and she respected that he wanted full responsibility for his family.