Bobby Akart - Desolation

Sonny and Phoebe packed up food and water for the two of them to stay away several days if necessary. They would try to stay in communication via their marine radios and the two-way radios Mike had taken from the MCSO supply depot. If they observed a potential threat headed their way, they could quickly make their way back to Driftwood Key by water.

Before they left, the group had gathered in the war room in the main house to brief Lacey and Tucker on where to focus their attention. Based upon the first few days of the sheriff’s raids, it appeared grocery stores and wholesale food warehouses were the primary targets.

They discussed each of the keys in between Stock Island near the sheriff’s department and Marathon. Most of the islands were small and primarily residential. The three most likely to garner Sheriff Jock’s attention would be Big Coppitt, the closest to Key West, followed by Cudjoe Key and then Big Pine Key, where Seven Mile Bridge terminated in the Lower Keys.

“This is Shark Channel,” said Lacey as she slowed down in the shallow waters just off Big Coppitt Key. “Uncle Mike thinks the sheriff may bypass Big Coppitt altogether. Let’s hang out here for a while and see if anything develops.”

Tucker had grabbed the high-powered binoculars off Hank’s Hatteras before they left. He handed them to his mom so she could focus on the stretch of highway running through the center of the Key. Tucker would scan the highway that crossed the channel and watch for any boats that might approach them.

After an hour or so during which time they made small talk, Tucker brought up Owen. “I think about Dad every day. I really feel guilty because, um, it’s like I can’t really remember everything. There’s no reminders of him anywhere, you know?”

Lacey, who was wearing dark, polarized sunglasses, nodded. The sunglasses helped her hide the tears welling up in her eyes. “That’s understandable, son. I miss your Dad more than anyone can imagine. It’s just, well, since he died, you and I have been forced to survive alone for most of the time. After we survived the hurricane, my thoughts were focused on our safety. There will come a time when we can sit down and reminisce about your dad. We’ll be able to laugh as we recall our good times together. The memories may have faded for now, but they’re not forgotten or abandoned.”

Tucker fell silent as he absorbed her words. He turned his attention away from the highway and studied the activity, or lack thereof, at Naval Air Station Key West. He couldn’t see any military aircraft. There was a single Coast Guard helicopter near an administration building, but it had been covered to protect it from the hurricane. It was as if the military airport had been abandoned by the government, along with the rest of the Keys.

“I’ve got something, Mom,” announced Tucker suddenly. “Use your binoculars to look across the runways toward the highway. Doesn’t that look like a convoy of trucks. I mean, those first four are like those MRAPs they used in Oakland to deal with the riots.” MRAP was a military term for mine-resistant ambush protected tactical vehicle. They were similar in style to the SWAT vehicles deployed by the sheriff’s department for their tactical raids.

“I see them!” she said excitedly. “There are several patrol cars behind them, followed by at least six box trucks. You know, like U-Hauls and Budget trucks.”

“Are they slowing down?” asked Tucker.

Lacey didn’t immediately respond as she followed the convoy until they disappeared from sight for a moment.

Then Tucker answered his own question. “Here they come! They’re crossing the bridge to …” His voice trailed off, as he didn’t know the name of the small island that was next in the chain.

Lacey quickly lowered her glasses. “They’re headed for Sugarloaf. Hold on!”

She handed Tucker the binoculars and quickly slid behind the center console. She fired up the engines and took off toward the ocean, winding their way past Pelican Key at full throttle. As soon as she cleared the shallow reefs, she veered to the left and gripped the wheel. The fishing boat refused to plane out, so their ride was bumpy as she sped along the desolate beaches of Saddlebunch Keys. She was finally able to suppress her adrenaline and trimmed the engine so the boat was riding over the water to encounter less wave resistance.

“Where are we going?” asked Tucker, who continued to grip the handles of the center console.

“I’m gonna take us deep into Cudjoe Bay so we can get a good look at them as they go by. Uncle Mike wanted us to get vehicle and personnel counts. We’ll want to be settled in as they go past our position. I don’t wanna draw any attention.”

“Gotcha,” said Tucker, who pulled out several sheets of copy paper that had been stapled together. It was a list of grocery stores and markets located on each of the major keys they were tasked with surveilling.

“Mom, there really aren’t any places for them to raid on Cudjoe Key, according to this list. There’s a little seafood store and a couple of restaurants. The next store is on Summerland Key called Murray’s Market. I can’t imagine it’s big enough for all those guys to bother with.”

Lacey slowed her pace as she turned the boat toward Cudjoe Bay. She glanced toward the list, so Tucker folded the pages to make them easier for her to read while she navigated closer to U.S. 1. As she entered the center of the small bay, she throttled back and studied the list.

Darkness was approaching, although the perpetually hazy skies didn’t give them much warning of the lateness of the day.

“You’re right. I wonder …” Lacey paused, her voice trailing off as she kept her thought to herself.

“What is it, Mom?”

She pointed toward the binoculars that Tucker had set into a pouch on the port side of the boat. He retrieved them, and she got her bearings straight.

“Do you have the Sharpie?”

Tucker retrieved it from his pocket and waved it in front of him. “Yep.”

“Okay. I’m gonna call out what I see, and you make notes. Then we’re gonna haul our cookies to Big Pine Key to see if they make it that far. In the meantime, I need to call Uncle Mike and let him know what’s going on. I hope he’s ready.”

Thursday, November 14

Seven Mile Bridge

Mike threw his two-way radio into the front seat of his truck and wandered around the concrete pavement, running his fingers through his sweaty hair. This was happening way too fast. He thought he’d have days, if not a week or more, to prepare the bridge and get Marathon ready. He’d miscalculated, and now he’d have to ask the impossible of his tired volunteers.

After he left his meeting with Reverend Deb, Mike drove through Marathon, touching base with his acquaintances who owned trucks with winches. He was appreciative of Reverend Deb’s offer to recruit the other churches for him. It took an inordinate amount of time to explain why he needed the men’s help, and once they were convinced, he had to get fuel for their trucks. It was already early afternoon when they’d gathered at the start of Seven Mile Bridge. After a lengthy back-and-forth on the best way to approach the problem, they began.

Unfortunately for Mike’s schedule, it was agreed they had to clear the road in order to clog it up again. The stalled and abandoned vehicles were in the way of the far end of Seven Mile Bridge closest to Big Pine Key. They had to clear one lane to get there. It was determined that the group of six trucks be split into two teams of three. One would focus on clearing a lane for the other. They leapfrogged down the two-lane highway for most of the afternoon. They were midway through the process of doing so when Lacey reached Mike on the radio.