Bobby Akart - Desolation

“Okay, I’ll let Phoebe know in the morning,” said Erin. She looked around the room and thought of a few things that might help. “Mike, if you come across legal pads or any other office supplies. We need to start making some notes as we consider our options.”

“Tell us what the process looks like, Erin,” said Lacey.

Hank urged everyone to sit down as he turned the floor over to Erin.

“After what Mike told us at dinner, before we worry about Lindsey, we need to make sure these armed, roving gangs don’t show up at our doorstep like they have in the past. Mike, what would it take to stop them?”

“More manpower,” he replied. “I don’t have enough deputies to fight them off.”

“Okay, let me think out loud for a moment,” continued Erin. “Marathon has residents and business owners who are in the same situation as we are. What if we approached them and laid out the threat? You know, tell them about this gang, or gangs, of armed men who are raiding their key. Do you think they’d band together to stop their looting before they grew larger in number and therefore too strong?”

“I don’t like civilian deputies,” said Mike bluntly.

“I get it. Vigilante justice isn’t always the best way to go, but correct me if I’m wrong. Haven’t you guys had to administer that kind of justice at your dock and then later at the bridge?”

“That was self-defense,” countered Mike.

“True, but it didn’t involve calling law enforcement for assistance. You guys handled it on your own. I’m suggesting you bring the locals together to fight back against this group. Plus, it will have a twofold purpose.”

“What is the other reason?” asked Hank.

Erin appreciated Hank’s ability to carry the conversation in the direction she needed it to go.

“It will give you an opportunity to show them Lindsey and the sheriff will not come to their aid. It will give them a newfound sense of self-reliance while showing Lindsey’s ineptitude. We want them to look to the Albright family for leadership, not the person who is ignoring their needs in order to confiscate property in Key West.”

“Makes sense to me,” said Hank.

“Follow me for a moment,” said Erin as she unfolded a map of the Florida Keys. “From everything we’ve heard, the mayor, with the aid of the sheriff, is working her way up the Keys. She’s started with the largest population areas. Eventually, she’ll want to send her minions across Seven Mile Bridge. That’s where we need to take a stand and say enough is enough.”

Jessica started laughing. “Great, we’re gonna blow up another bridge.”

Erin appreciated the humor, but she felt compelled to confirm this was not her intention. “Step one is to garner the trust of your neighbors and fellow business owners. Then we need to develop allies in the Middle and Upper Keys who will help us send a clear message to the mayor we’re not going to willingly give up our property, including food and supplies, to her administration to redistribute.”

Peter, whose voice had improved throughout the day, added, “By the time we have to take a stand, she will have pissed off everyone in the Lower Keys. Taking this drastic an approach would’ve had a better chance if she had a consensus of opinion on her side. She thinks she can run roughshod over everyone. That may work for those docile people in Key West, but with each day, she’ll face more resistance.”

Jessica stood and ran her fingers along Seven Mile Bridge. “If we’re not gonna blow it up, we can certainly make it near impossible to cross.”

“They’re not going to stand by and let us do that,” said Mike.

“It sounds to me like she’s allocated a lot of manpower to her activities in Key West,” Jessica responded. “Maybe we can do it quickly to frustrate her plans? By the time she figures out what happened, we’ll have a lot of folks on our side.”

“Here’s my question to you, Mike,” began Erin. “How long will it take the sheriff to move toward Marathon?”

“Five or six days, assuming they’re thorough,” he replied.

Erin stepped backward and sat on a bar stool, one of two sitting next to a rack of pool cues. “We’re gonna need to move quickly, and a little luck would be nice.”

Hank took the floor. “Okay, for tomorrow. Here’s the plan. Erin and I will work the political angle. We’ll see Mrs. Morton first, and then we’ll reach out to the county commissioner from district three. We know we have district five covered with Bud Marino. District one will be difficult to reach, but by the time her home is raided on Stock Island, she’ll be on board.

“Most importantly, I need to touch base with the mayor. Mike indicated he goes into his office every morning. I don’t know why, but I need to get him on board with us.”

“What about the business owners and this gang?” asked Lacey.

“Let me get a feel for what’s going on with these break-ins,” replied Mike. “Once I know what I’m dealing with, we can discuss how to stop them with the use of civilians.”

For the next hour, the group talked about the likelihood of their success. In the end, they agreed with Hank’s statement. It was often repeated and represented the feelings of many freedom-living Americans.

“I’d rather die on my feet than live on my knees.”

Tuesday, November 12

Driftwood Key

They say it’s always darkest before the dawn, and the families who’d finally found their way home to Driftwood Key were prepared to put the pains they’d suffered over the last few weeks behind them. Even with Peter and Jimmy on the mend, Hank hoped to bring everyone together for breakfast that morning to create a routine, some semblance of normalcy, during a catastrophic event that would become increasingly difficult to survive.

He took on the leadership role not unlike the coach of a high school football team would. He had to rally his team to do more than play a game on a crisp, fall Friday night under the lights. He had to convince his charges they could survive the chilly days that had been thrust upon them courtesy of nuclear winter. As they settled in for a breakfast of oatmeal, unusual for the Florida Keys at any time of year, Hank laid out the roles for each member of his team.

“Jimmy, you’re healing up nicely,” said Hank as he passed a bowl of sugar toward the young man who was the last to be seated. Jimmy said good morning to everyone and smiled at Hank.

“Peter and I were just talkin’ about it,” he said in a loud whisper as he took his first bite of sugar-coated oatmeal. Phoebe had warned everyone that oatmeal and Cream of Wheat would become a staple of their morning meals. She and Sonny had purchased as much as they could find in those days leading up to the collapse. The two healthy breakfast foods were also easy to prepare when power was scarce.

“He’s about a couple of days behind me in terms of recovery,” added Peter in order to allow Jimmy to slowly eat his oatmeal. His throat was still sore from the ordeal whereas Peter’s had substantially recovered, as had his strength. “Whadya think, Jimmy?”

“Crazy as this sounds, I want to get back into the water to practice holding my breath,” he replied. “The doctor couldn’t really tell me if I had lung damage. The only way I know how to find out is to test them.”

Phoebe rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Let’s not, son. Okay? You don’t need to do any skin diving right now.”

“Mom, I’ve already been challenging myself while lying in bed. I’m up to six minutes.”

His mother playfully swatted him on the shoulder and the back of the head with both hands. “Don’t stress me out!”