Bobby Akart - Desolation

Erin’s mind raced as she soaked in his words. He seemed to be acting out of frustration. She also believed Chandler had been chirping in his ear about using the transition to the temporary seat of government at the Army War College in Central Pennsylvania as a logical opportunity to eliminate Erin, who’d been a thorn in the administration’s side.

Truth be told, she was tired of playing the political games. She was proud of her accomplishments and verily believed her experience would be an asset to the country. However, this president and his right arm, Chandler, had shown a propensity for making knee-jerk decisions and playing favorites with members of the cabinet. Her contribution would never be acted upon much less appreciated. So she took a chance.

“Maybe I can help you?”

“In what way?” asked Chandler, rudely trying to insert himself in the conversation. Erin responded to his question but remained focused on the president.

“Mr. President, I have considerable ties to Florida’s political machinery, as you know,” began Erin, who reminded the president why’d he tapped her as Secretary of Agriculture in the first place. Her expertise was in transportation, but the agriculture position gave her the opportunity to help Floridians. “I know the governor well, of course, and I’m also familiar with Mayor Lindsey Free, the county executive of Monroe County. Perhaps I can defuse the situation.”

“Secretary Bergmann, the president’s decision has been—” began Chandler before the president raised his hand and cut him off.

“Let her finish, Harrison.” The unusually stern rebuke drew a slight smile from Erin.

“Sir, I respect your decision to make a change at the Department of Agriculture. Naturally, I would prefer that you not. That said, I serve at the pleasure of the president and will honor your wishes. However, I can serve you in a way that helps solve the problem in the Keys.”

“Go on,” said the president, who was once again leaning back in his chair and relaxed.

“Sir, I have many contacts there. Send me to the Keys as your emissary, of sorts. With the approval of the governor, I can work behind the scenes to convince Mayor Free to back down from her shenanigans. If not, I can work with other politicos in the Keys to orchestrate a recall or some other similar means to remove her from office. I know the circumstances are unusual, and generally, a change in leadership of any government, even at the local level, is not advisable. However, her actions are almost tyrannical.”

“I see you’ve been paying attention during the security briefings,” said the president with a smile. His mood had softened. “Erin, the governor isn’t any help to us. While he doesn’t have a relationship with this mayor, he doesn’t want to appear heavy-handed in dealing with the local county executives. His actions toward one might seem like an affront toward all.”

“Makes sense,” said Erin. “The federal government has different interests at stake than Tallahassee. For one thing, they’ve blocked a federal highway. Secondly, from a national security standpoint, the Florida Keys are the closest point to Communist Cuba, a close ally of Russia.”

“Very true, Erin. What, exactly, do you propose?”

Erin paused and then laid out her plan. “I have a friend in the Keys whose family has been there since the beginning. He’s well liked and highly respected. If you’ll arrange travel for me to Driftwood Key, as well as create a direct line of communication to Harrison, I’ll keep him abreast of my activities. I’ll also consult with him as I work to remove the mayor and anyone loyal to her from office.”

The president smiled. “I like it,” he said as he turned to his top aide. “Harrison, work with Erin to give her anything she needs.”

For the next two days, Erin learned all she could about Lindsey Free and the politicians who ran Monroe County’s government. She identified potential allies and met with the Pentagon representatives coordinating the National Guard troop movements.

The day she was supposed to travel by helicopter to Driftwood Key, a devil of a storm swept over the island chain.

Sunday, November 10

Florida Bay

Florida Keys, USA

Morning came and turned into day, such that it was during nuclear winter. Then another night swept over the Florida Keys, followed by another day of the grayish haze that blanketed the planet. The tumultuous waves and the torrential rains had ceased, bringing an eerie calm over the water. When it was over, Jimmy Free thought he’d died.

It’s not uncommon for the living who discover an unconscious body to act with trepidation. They might kick it to see if it stirs. Others might slap the person’s face, trying to evoke a reaction. Or, as Sonny Free suggested when Peter’s lifeless body was found in a heap on the bridge leading to Driftwood Key, one could simply shoot the poor soul and see if he responded.

It was a surface-feeding fish nibbling at Jimmy’s toes that reminded him he was alive. But just barely.

Dehydrated, exhausted, and disoriented, Jimmy had wrapped his arms around a palm tree log. He tried without success to determine his location. From recollection, he thought he was within the confines of Blackwater Sound. He vividly remembered the pounding waves and the hurricane-force winds that had battered him relentlessly for hours.

Once he lost control of his WaveRunner and began to tread water, he was certain Peter would find him. If not immediately, when daylight came. For hours, he was pushed farther and farther west as the storm raged on. One wave after another generated momentum, forcing his body, along with the other flotsam, to move away from Key Largo and toward the western side of Blackwater Sound.

It was a stroke of bad luck that sent Jimmy floating helplessly through the Boggies, a narrow channel that split the mangroves and entered Florida Bay. Thirty feet to either the left or the right would’ve landed him against the mangrove trees jutting through the water. He would’ve held on through the hurricane, and when the devilish storm passed, he could’ve used the mangroves to pull himself back to Key Largo. At worst, he would’ve been found by Peter or the other boaters during their search the next day.

However, fate brought him into the open waters of Florida Bay, where he drifted with the waves generated by the hurricane. A palm tree’s trunk had rammed into him as he floated along. It was his only option to be used as a floatation device. Despite the heavy nature of the waterlogged tree trunk, it kept him afloat and alive throughout the tempest.

When the log crashed into a beach, Jimmy inwardly rejoiced. He was going to live. He convinced himself he was within Blackwater Sound. He was wrong.

Exhausted from the ride through the storm, he lay flat on his back on the sandy shore and passed out. Then he slept for fourteen hours. When he awakened, he unknowingly found himself on Derelict Key, a tiny island disconnected from the mainland, which was approximately four miles from the Boggies.

The storm had passed, allowing him to take in his immediate surroundings, but the hazy nature of nuclear winter had reduced his visibility to only a couple of miles. For as far as his eyes could see, there was only grayish water and the similarly colored skies above.

Other than the salt-filled rainwater he’d lapped up off his skin during the storm, Jimmy hadn’t had anything to drink since he had been held at the Infield Care Center at the speedway. It had now been more than forty-eight hours, and his body was feeling the effects of dehydration.