Bobby Akart - First Strike

“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 beach with cocktails and cigars. None of them expected the Florida Keys to be the target of a nuclear strike. They presumed the highest-value targets for America’s enemies were political, populated, and nuclear related.

The discussion of EMP weapons came up. This concerned them as much as the nuclear strikes. While they wouldn’t be directly in the line of fire from the nuclear detonation, the electromagnetic pulse generated from the ground strikes could cause the nation’s power grid to collapse. The three agreed it would take years to repair, and they’d have to be prepared for this eventuality.

Today, all three of them were supposed to scour the Middle and Lower Keys for supplies that would keep them alive in the event something like that happened. Instead, Mike and Jessica were forced into traffic control.

Mike and his fellow detective were attempting to have this conversation at an intersection packed with motorists. They’d stopped both lanes to allow vehicles to exit the Publix shopping center and the residential areas behind it. Frustrated drivers slammed their steering wheels and dashboards over the one-minute delay.

At one point, Mike chuckled to himself, although his thought was not meant to be humorous. How are these people supposed to handle nukes landing on America if they can’t keep from losing their minds over a traffic delay?

“Is it true the people from Tallahassee are pulling out?” the detective asked, shouting his question to Mike.

“Yeah!” he replied in an equally loud voice. “They’ve got the jitters up there about what might happen. They watch the news like the rest of these folks.”

“Are we changing our schedules?”

“Not as far as I’m concerned. The killer doesn’t plan on changing his.”

“Good work on identifying the vics!” the detective yelled.

“The problem is there is no connection between the three whatsoever,” said Mike as traffic was cleared to move again. He lowered his voice as the two men joined each other on the side of the road. “Listen, here’s the thing. We need more evidence. A clue of some kind. Sadly, that means another body or even a foiled attempt by the killer.”

The detective waved his hand up and down the highway. “Maybe all of this will disrupt his habits? You know, take away his opportunities or at least make them more difficult.”

“Even better, wouldn’t it be nice if he was in one of these cars headed north?”

Seconds later, a black Lexus sedan drove by the two detectives. The darkened windows designed to block out the sun also served to deter prying eyes from seeing inside. Its tan interior had been scrubbed several times with bleaching agents, and every fiber of the sedan’s carpets had been vacuumed to perfection.

The driver, the branch manager of the Island State Bank, kept his face forward, but his eyes moved to study the two men directing traffic. He recognized Mike Albright. Mr. Big Shot homicide detective. The man who didn’t have a clue as to who just drove past him.

It was lunchtime, and he was ravenous. Not just for the local fare from Bad Boy Burritos, aptly named for a man with a gruesome secret fetish. The fish tacos would provide him sustenance. However, they’d do nothing for his hunger.

Tonight, he’d hunt. Again.

The heavy traffic headed toward Key West didn’t aggravate him like the other drivers around him. They represented new opportunities. Fresh meat. Happy vacationers ready to release their inhibitions.

To take a walk on the wild side.

With Patricia.

Wednesday, October 23

Hayward, California

Lacey and her family slept in after the harrowing events of the day before. They’d stayed up until near dawn rehashing the events and discussing their plans. The consensus was to wrap up all loose ends and prepare to travel into the mountains. None of them believed a nuclear strike was going to happen. They were not a family of alarmists. Nonetheless, their planned getaway seemed to fit nicely with leaving one of the top nuclear targets in America.

Lacey was the first to rise and immediately noticed the rain had stopped. It wouldn’t start again. For a long, long while.

Everyone was tasked with a variety of activities to prepare for their afternoon departure. After retrieving Lacey’s car, Owen spent an hour or so in the offices of Yahoo, ensuring his projects were able to move forward in his absence. He’d advised the team working on the transition he’d implemented to contact him through their North Lake Tahoe hotel, as they planned on camping most of the time and wouldn’t have cell phone service.

Lacey and Tucker went shopping for additional supplies that had come to mind following the disaster app’s false alarm. As saddened as they were about the loss of life, the family agreed the trial run was an eye-opener.

In the event of a real emergency, there would be no order. They couldn’t necessarily expect help from their fellow man, much less first responders, who’d be overwhelmed with calls. As Owen put it, it was incumbent upon them as responsible adults to be ready. To take care of themselves rather than be a burden on emergency services.

As late afternoon arrived, the sun was lowering on the horizon. Owen and Tucker had finished attaching the tow dolly to the Expedition. The Bronco was firmly secured, and both vehicles were packed with gear and supplies.

Lacey had chosen not to follow her father’s request to buy plane tickets for the three of them and flee to Driftwood Key. There was no guarantee that the media speculation would result in the U.S. becoming embroiled in a nuclear war. Even Peter had equivocated when his best advice was to prepare and know where to seek cover. He’d never advocated abandoning their home and racing to the Keys.

Not that Lacey could have anyway. Flights leaving the West Coast were completely full for days. Standby passengers slept on the floors of airports, hoping to get a seat. Families split up, using separate flights and destinations, all in an attempt to get to a safer location in the event war broke out.

Interstate highways leaving the major West Coast cities were jam-packed. Impatience resulted in accidents. Accidents resulted in more accidents.