Bobby Akart - Devil Storm

Hank stopped for a moment to take it all in. This wasn’t the way this place had looked before the nuclear war started. There was something up. He walked deeper into the office suite toward Lindsey’s office. The director of Disaster Recovery, a casual acquaintance of Hank’s from years ago, pushed through the crowd until the two men bumped shoulders.

Hank made eye contact with the frenzied man, who waved his arm as a form of apology. Although the two men knew one another, in his frantic state of mind, Ken Waller almost didn’t recognized Hank.

“Ken!” Hank raised his voice to be heard over the noisy county personnel. “Hey, what’s goin’ on?” He expected to hear that the National Guard was about to invade the shores of the Florida Keys with tanks and armored personnel carriers.

“Oh. Sorry, um, Hank. Gotta go.” He immediately spun around and headed toward the hallway.

“Ken, what is it?” Hank hollered after him.

“Storm’s comin’,” replied Waller as he waved his arm over his head.

Thursday, November 7

Monroe County Administration Offices

Key West

Hank had to know what was going on. Was the man referring to a storm in the literal or figurative sense? It wasn’t too late in the season for a hurricane, but the incredibly cool temperatures due to the onset of nuclear winter would prevent one from forming. Hank had to assume the military planned on retaliating against the Keys for their harebrained idea to blow up two bridges.

In the chaotic outer office, people rushed back and forth. Voices were raised in order to be heard. Arguments ensued over who was responsible for performing a certain task. There was no leadership or direction.

He marched past the mayor’s secretary and pushed his way around an armed deputy who was preventing a distraught woman from entering Lindsey’s office. Two uniformed members of the county’s emergency management team were standing near her desk, reviewing a map book.

Hank wasted no time in addressing the mayor. “Lindsey, what’s going on?”

She was hunched over her desk, studying a larger map of the Middle Keys. She scowled at the interruption. “Hank, what are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you about—” Hank replied sheepishly before getting cut off.

Lindsey raised her hand like a New York City traffic cop might do to demand an oncoming car to stop. “Now’s not the time, Hank. As you can see, we’re a little busy.”

She turned back to the maps and pulled out a black Sharpie. She began circling certain roads and marking other areas with Xs and Os. Hank leaned forward to make sense of it all. She looked like a general planning a battle who didn’t have a clue as to how to fight the enemy.

“Lindsey, I came down here to find out what happened to Jimmy.”

She dropped her head and allowed the marker to roll out of her hands. She locked eyes with Hank. “Who?”

“Jimmy. Remember? Your nephew? You made me send him into your new deputy program, and now he’s gone missing.”

“Oh, right. Ask the sheriff.” She rubbed her temples and returned her attention to the map. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the Sharpie again to start drawing lines and circles on the map.

Hank was insistent. “I tried, and he wouldn’t meet with me.”

Without looking up, she said sarcastically, “It’s like I said, we’re all a little busy right now.”

Hank was tired of being ignored and Jimmy’s well-being marginalized. He slammed the palm of his right hand on the desk, smacking the top with a loud thud that caused the occupants of the room to stop talking.

“Dammit, Lindsey! Your nephew has disappeared after your foolish idea to blow up the bridges. Now, obviously, you’re in a load of shit with the government, but that’s not my problem. That young man’s life may be at risk, and you should bear some responsibility for that.” Hank had thrown down the gauntlet to get her attention.

With the room deathly quiet, Lindsey calmly stood upright and capped the Sharpie. She feigned laughter and shook her head from side to side as she looked toward the ceiling. Then she pointed the Sharpie at Hank.

“The damn military’s not the problem, Hank. And the decision to blow those bridges was a good one for the protection of everyone in the Keys.”

“Then what’s all of this?” asked Hank as he waved his right arm around the room.

“There’s a hella-big hurricane bearing down on us, and if you don’t hustle your ass out of my office, you might not make it back to your precious inn before it hits.”

Hank was perplexed. There had been late season storms before, but they usually came during a year of unusually warm weather. The effects of nuclear winter were anything but warm, although certainly unusual.

“I didn’t know…” he said, his voice trailing off. He was sorry for the interruption, but he still wanted to know about Jimmy’s whereabouts. “Who can help me with Jimmy?”

“Help yourselves, Hank. Aren’t you people all about self-reliance? The whole we-got-ours while the rest of us fend for ourselves mindset?”

Hank could feel all the eyes in the office staring at his back. “It’s not like that.”

“Yes. Yes, it is,” Lindsey snarled. “And that will be addressed when this is all over. For now, I’ve got the business of the Keys to attend to, so it’s time for you to go.”

“But—” Hank began to argue before the mayor shouted over him.

“Deputy! Mr. Albright needs an escort out of the building!”

Hank swung around to a dozen faces glaring at him. Hateful eyes. Full of contempt. Strangers who made assumptions about him based upon his brief interaction with Lindsey, their fearless leader. Suddenly, he felt vulnerable. Outnumbered. Despised.

A storm was indeed coming. Perhaps more than one.

Thursday, November 7

Tarpon Springs

Despite the dire circumstances brought on them by nuclear winter, the Andino family pulled out all the stops that evening to welcome the travelers. Delicacies like spinach pie, grilled calamari, beef-filled gyros, and of course, for dessert, a tray of baklava, the Greek pastry made of layers of chopped nuts, flaky crust, and honey.

The Greeks who inhabited Tarpon Springs, especially those who’d remained true to their heritage, had a knack for preparing for catastrophic events. The shoreline from Anclote Key around the Big Bend just south of Tallahassee all the way to Apalachicola was frequently visited by hurricanes every season. As a result, regardless of the time of year, they prepared and stored food in anticipation of a long-term power outage.

The Andinos were willing to share their food and drink, their homes, and their knowledge of sailing under dangerous conditions. After dinner they shared a toast with their guests by filling shot glasses with ouzo, a licorice-tasting spirit enjoyed by Greeks around the world. Andino explained to his guests the importance of ouzo to Greek culture as being akin to wine to the French, vodka to Russians, and tequila to Mexicans.

Even Tucker tried a sip. As it burned going down his throat, he swore he’d never touch a drop of alcohol for the rest of his life. Lacey smiled and thanked her hosts for discouraging her teenage son from partaking in the future.

After the table was cleared, the shot glasses were filled with another round, and each of the men lit up a Marlboro, an American cigarette that was wildly popular in Greece. Because the families had such strong ties to the country of their ancestors, they were hugely influenced by Greek pop culture right down to their smoke and drink of choice.