Bobby Akart - Desolation

She and her husband had been planning how they could survive the collapse. He had calculated the amount of fuel he had in his truck. They had friends who lived in Central Florida near Lake Okeechobee. He thought he could load up everything of value that would enable them to fish and hunt. If they showed up at their friends’ remote home, they wanted to be useful.

After word of the bridges being destroyed reached their neighborhood, they became angry but began to focus on another option. His fishing boat was fully fueled, so he began to calculate the distance if they left Key West to Lake Okeechobee via the waterway connecting the lake to the Gulf. They could just make it and were set to leave the following day.

That night, a fire broke out in the adjacent home. The property had been broken into by transients, and in an effort to stay warm, they built a fire in the fireplace. The transients passed out drunk and left the fire unattended. A spark ignited a blanket, and soon the place was engulfed in flames.

Her husband had grabbed a fire extinguisher and raced over to the neighbor’s property to douse the flames. He was overwhelmed with smoke and was forced to crawl back outside. In the meantime, the fire jumped to their own home. The woman was outside trying to help her husband when he suddenly recovered and raced inside to retrieve the boat keys as well as the family’s photo albums. He never came out.

With all of her belongings destroyed and no way to access their boat, her only option was to move into her nearby deli a couple of doors down from the Winn-Dixie in the shopping center. She and her husband had already secured the plate-glass windows at the front. She was able to come and go through the rear door using a push-button, manual door lock. She was safe and had access to food while she grieved the loss of her husband.

“Earlier, while they were busy raiding Publix, a group of men took advantage of them being preoccupied. I could hear them trying to break into Winn-Dixie. When they couldn’t get inside, they moved on. They looted GNC and the AutoZone. Then …”

Her voice trailed off once again. She began to cry, and Erin did what she could to calm her down. The woman simply shook her head and steeled her nerves to continue relaying what had happened to her.

“They broke into my deli. It was all I had left in the world. They knocked me down and kicked me.” She raised her shirt to show Erin her bruised ribs before continuing. “I ran out of the store, looking for someone to help me. The police were driving into the parking lot to set up in front of Winn-Dixie. I ran toward their trucks and tried to get their help. Instead, they almost ran over me. When I finally got one of them out of the truck, he shoved me to the side and told me I was interfering with sheriff’s department business.”

Hank had inched toward Erin’s side now and was listening intently to the woman’s heartbreaking story. He was about to introduce himself when several gunshots echoed off the stucco façade of the grocery store.

Wednesday, November 13

Key West

Hank had never seen an actual powder keg explode, but he certainly was witnessing what the saying was intended to describe. Afterwards, none of them were able to identify where the initial shots came from. Regardless, as the crowd built and began to push forward against the line of deputies, shoving and vulgarities began to create a tense situation. A fuse was burning, and the single gunshot reverberating off the stucco walls of the shopping center resulted in mayhem.

Still on edge following the gun battle the day before at Gordon’s, Sergeant Rivera was determined to protect his deputies and the firefighters who helped break into the grocery store. He grabbed the bullhorn from the deputy’s hands and started screaming.

“Back off! Now! We will shoot to kill!”

It was those last three words that were misconstrued by one newly deputized recruit who’d been used by Sheriff Jock and Lindsey to bolster their ranks at the bridge checkpoints. He was on the front line, face-to-face with the angry mob. He gripped his shield in his left hand and spontaneously pulled his service weapon from its holster with his right. Afraid for his life, he fired wildly into the crowd.

Three shots. Three bodies dropped to the asphalt.

Rather than retreat, the crowd turned on the deputies and rushed them despite the line of ballistic shields they faced. Within seconds, the deputies were overrun, and the crowd was beating them while attempting to take their weapons. Others ran past the scrum and raced toward the entrance of Winn-Dixie.

More shots rang out, this time from automatic weapons issued to team A under Sergeant Rivera’s command. The civilians at the front of the crazed mob were torn to ribbons. Blood flew into the air, and screams of agony permeated the shopping center.

Hank and Erin stood frozen for a moment as they witnessed the carnage. The woman they’d been talking to ran away, disappearing with the rest of the crowd, who fled toward Kennedy Drive.

Mike jumped out of the truck and yelled, “Come on, Hank! We gotta go!”

“Hey! He’s a cop!” screamed a young man from fifty feet away.

Another one turned his attention to Mike. He shouted his question. “What kinda shit is this, asshole?”

“Yeah!”

“Let’s teach this one a lesson!”

Hank and Erin began running back toward the truck. Mike took a shooter’s stance and drew his sidearm. He flipped on his red-dot laser sight and lit up the chest of the man in the front of the pack that approached him.

Mike angrily warned them. “Stay back! Stop where you are!”

“You can’t shoot us all!”

The mob slowed their pace, but they continued marching toward him.

Hank drew his weapon, and Erin did as well. Hank quickly moved between Mike’s truck and the threatening mob.

“Yes, we can and will if you don’t stand down! Stop!”

Erin moved alongside Hank and pointed her weapon at several of the people standing just behind the most vocal members of the mob.

The group slowed as the men leading the charge began to reassess. Their eyes darted from Mike to Hank and Erin until they eventually stopped. They mouthed off again, but they’d lost their will to fight. When another burst of automatic gunfire was heard from the storefront, they turned and disappeared into the fleeing crowd.

Mike didn’t have to ask his partners again. Hank and Erin rushed toward the truck and were sliding into their seats just as Mike started the truck. He threw the gearshift into reverse and spun the tires on the thin layer of sand that had accumulated on the asphalt parking lot. He was almost on the road when Erin shouted for him to stop.

She flung the door open and jumped out of the back seat. She began running toward the mayhem. However, instead of drawing her weapon, she pulled another weapon equally as effective—her iPhone.

Cell phones were no longer capable of making calls or sending texts. However, they still functioned. She started filming the battle between the civilians and police. She switched to her photo function and began to take pictures in rapid succession. She wouldn’t know how devastating they appeared until later that evening when she sat down to view them. Somehow, she knew they’d become a powerful weapon in their fight against Lindsey and the sheriff.

Mike sped forward to pull alongside her as Hank rolled down the window, imploring Erin to get back in the truck. Seconds later, Mike was once again spinning the truck’s tires as he backed out of the parking lot. He almost ran over three women racing up North Roosevelt on bicycles stolen from the scooter store earlier. Mike jammed on the brakes, cursed the women, and then spun the tires again as he headed up the highway to leave Key West.