Bobby Akart - Desolation

Hank was still agitated over the entire ordeal. He misguidedly focused his ire in his brother’s direction. “What the hell, Mike? Is this some kind of gestapo operation your boss is running?”

“Hold on, Hank. I don’t condone any of this shit, and besides, he’s not my boss. I threw my badge on his desk a little while ago.”

Erin tried to calm the brothers down, who appeared to direct their anger and frustrations at one another. “Guys, come on. Let’s catch our breath and talk about what just happened.”

Both guys were still cross when Mike drove onto the divided highway just past the Marriott resort. He sped up, and the mere act of driving onto the bridge from Stock Island to Boca Chica seemed to relieve tensions in the cab of the truck.

Erin looked around the back seat and found stacks of handguns in their hard cases together with military ammo cans that must’ve weighed fifty pounds each. She also noticed for the first time that Mike’s truck bed lid was propped up several inches and tied down with ratchet straps.

She’d learned in her brief time around the Albrights that Mike was the more emotional of the two men and oftentimes expressed his emotions through anger. Hank tended to suppress his emotions and rarely got agitated. As a result, Mike was made out to be the bad guy when in reality, he simply let it out whereas Hank boxed it in. Erin wasn’t sure which was worse.

She tried to change the subject by asking what had happened to Mike. “I gather you resigned.”

He managed a slight laugh. “Let’s call it a mutually acceptable separation. He was peppering me with questions about you and what you were doing in his islands .” Mike emphasized the words his islands as he spoke.

“Lindsey must’ve contacted him after we met with her,” interjected Hank.

“Maybe,” said Mike. “Although our conversation got pretty heated, and he never mentioned it. He was already in a foul mood after what happened at Gordon’s yesterday.”

“We heard,” said Erin. “I think what we just witnessed was worse.”

“Well, all I know is that there were deputies lost in the gunfight yesterday, including a guy I know. He had a family, you know, with young kids.”

“Tragic,” said Hank. “So he was still upset over that, yet he quizzed you about Erin?”

“Yeah. I don’t know how he knew Erin was with us. Maybe Lindsey did contact him. All of this went down about thirty to forty minutes ago.”

“Timing would be about right,” Erin added.

“In any event, we got into it, and things were said. Maybe I should’ve bit my tongue, but I called him a sellout for raiding these businesses. I said he needed to focus on protecting our residents and not doing Lindsey’s bidding.”

Hank laughed. “Dang, brother. I thought Erin was tough on Lindsey. You shoved it right up Jock’s—”

“You got into it with Lindsey?” asked Mike, cutting off Hank’s sentence. He glanced into his rearview mirror to study her face.

“Pretty much. Let’s just say she doesn’t take kindly to threats, nor does she seem to worry about them.”

Mike nodded and glanced at Erin again. “That’s because she’s got big cajones . She uses Jock as a shield and a protector. She’d never do this unless he was in bed with—”

“Wait!” shouted Hank. “What if that’s it? What if …? They’re sleeping together!”

Erin wasn’t so sure. “C’mon, Hank. That’s a little soap-operaish, don’t you think?”

Mike sighed. “You have to know her history, Erin. Lindsey chews men up and spits them out if the taste isn’t good anymore. If there was a better option than Jock, she’d jump on it.”

“Literally,” said Hank, causing the group to break out laughing.

With the tensions eased between the brothers, they settled down and talked about what they’d observed at Winn-Dixie. Erin couldn’t get the conversation she’d had with the distraught woman out of her mind. She desperately wanted to hug her and bring her back to Driftwood Key. Unfortunately, a single crazed serial killer had ruined that for everyone.

She sat in silence as Mike and Hank spoke back and forth about the additional supplies he’d taken from the sheriff’s office before quitting. She tried to process all of the relationships between the people she’d come in contact with on the Keys. She came to the realization that the usual method of attacking a snake by cutting off its head might not apply here. Perhaps they should attack the body, one rattle at a time.

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.”