Bobby Akart - Devil Storm

Then there was that moment of recognition not unlike the second he’d recognized Peter’s lifeless body lying on the bridge. There was a familiarity with the person who slowly walked toward him.

Hank began running toward her. She dropped her bag and trudged up the wet sand toward him. Hank and Erin Bergmann collided midway in the center of the lawn. The feelings they shared from their brief time together never waned. There was something between them. It was love they’d never expressed for one another. And now, the impossible seemed to have happened. The two found each other once again.

Saturday, November 9

1800 Atlantic Condominiums

Key West

Their bodies were tangled in the covers, intertwined as lovers sometimes end up. However, the release of tension was only temporary. It was time for a celebratory cigarette and another drink, the two habits that had returned to Mayor Lindsey Free’s daily routine of self-medication as a coping mechanism.

Smoking. Drinking. Sex. Rinse and repeat.

She crawled out of her bed and searched in the darkness for her pack of smokes. She flicked her Bic, instantly illuminating the room so she could see the carnage wrought by their tryst. She grabbed the candle off her nightstand and lit it, allowing the orange glow emanating from the flame to fill the room.

Lindsey was still getting used to her temporary home. Her house at the Key West Golf Club on Stock Island was too long a commute to the Monroe County Administration building. Prior to the collapse, such a statement would seem absurd, as it was only six miles to her office. However, with the late hours and unsavory characters who had begun to roam the streets of Key West, it was safer as well as more convenient for her to take one of the vacation rentals at 1800 Atlantic, an upscale condominium building overlooking the Edward B. Knight Pier and the ocean.

Take being the operative word. Lindsey had completely embraced the tone and tenor of the president’s martial law declaration. So much so that one of the first orders of business was to have her legal department draft a similar measure to be adopted via executive order and applied to Monroe County.

She saw the concept of martial law for what it was. The ability for the executive branch of any level of government to wield unbridled power over all aspects of its citizenry and businesses. If Lindsey wanted a penthouse suite atop 1800 Atlantic, she issued an executive order to seize it for the greater good of Monroe County. If a business had closed because it no longer wanted to sell its supply of a product she deemed of vital importance to the greater good of Monroe County, she sent in the sheriff’s department armed with an executive order and the firepower necessary to seize the business.

Nothing was off-limits. She could close churches as being a threat due to the fact it was a large gathering. She could order curfews. She could demand residents wear certain types of identifying clothing to delineate where they lived within the Keys. She could prohibit the use of automobiles and even instruct people to turn over their gasoline stored in containers. The carrying of identification cards confirming they were Florida Keys’ residents was already in place.

All for the greater good.

Lindsey believed in fairness. To her, it wasn’t fair that some households had sufficient food and supplies to last many months while others within the Keys were suffering from dehydration and starvation. Who could argue with her when she asked those who had the means to take their neighbors into their homes following the devastation wrought by the hurricane? Of course we should help one another. To do otherwise was selfish and inhuman.

And if people didn’t see it her way, the right way , then she would exercise the same powers afforded the President of the United States to bring them into the fold. By force if necessary. Share and share alike , she thought to herself as she downed the scotch. It’s the new American way.

Her lover stirred in the bed. She poured herself another scotch and lit a second cigarette. She took a long drag on the smoke and tilted her head back as she exhaled. The wispy trails of gray floated into the air until they came into contact with the heat generated by the candle nearby. The two forces combined to create an odd dance above the candlelight.

Never let a good crisis go to waste .

Lindsey couldn’t recall who made the statement, but it certainly made sense. She’d always had a vision for the Keys that couldn’t be implemented due to the constraints of politics and silly things like the Constitution.

Nuclear winter certainly was the kind of crisis a politician could use to effectuate change on a major scale. Compounding the suffering with a devastating hurricane that came without warning provided the impetus to exercise control like she never imagined. She knew what was best for the Keys and its residents.

That was why she felt it was necessary to isolate the island chain from the rest of the country. The fewer people who were present in her newly created fiefdom, the easier it would be to control them.

Naturally, she expected to piss off the administration in Washington. Frankly, she was surprised when they’d reacted the way they did to her simple roadblocks. She’d heard rumors of those independent-minded Texans trying to close their borders off to refugees. That was an entire state giving Washington the middle finger. The president should be focusing his attention on those people.

Yet, when she’d learned he was sending a large contingent of National Guard troops from outside Florida, she assumed he had every intention of displacing her as the chief executive of Monroe County. The president didn’t understand her use of the checkpoints and roadblocks, nor did he appreciate the need to evict noncitizens.

Perhaps the last straw was during a phone call before the grid collapsed when she’d shouted at the president’s do-boy, Chief of Staff Harrison Chandler, “You do you, and we’ll do us. Stay in your own lane!” After that, Lindsey had stopped taking phone calls from Washington and got prepared to defend the Keys, and her job, from outsiders.

She stood naked in front of the window overlooking the pool and the beach. The soft glow of solar-powered landscape lighting found its way to the top floor of the building. She was surprised there was sufficient sunlight to power them. She took another sip of scotch and leaned against the glass door, which was cold on her hip. She desperately wanted to open the sliding glass doors to listen to the waves lapping on shore, but the air quality was poor.

Blowing up the bridges had not been completely her idea. It had been his. For years, she’d been attracted to the man who was sprawled out in her bed, blissfully sleeping after a hard evening’s work in bed.

Despite their longtime acquaintance, the opportunity had never presented itself, as he’d moved away for a time and she’d married a local man. After her divorce, dating wasn’t even on her radar, as she intended to climb the political ladder as far as it would take her. Men, she decided, would be a distraction, and the wrong man would be a political liability. Yet she still enjoyed a man’s touch from time to time.

Then he’d returned to the Keys. A chamber of commerce event followed by several drinks at Nine One Five on Duval Street had brought the two of them together. They’d become reacquainted as friends with benefits, as the saying goes. It was a mutually agreeable affair to be kept quiet and out of public view, as neither could afford the scrutiny of city leaders or the community.

In addition to their sexual encounters, they became sounding boards for one another. Rarely did she make an important decision regarding Monroe County without his input. They analyzed every aspect of her political actions, and she provided him similar advice when requested. They had a great relationship that worked best if it was kept undercover, so to speak.