Bobby Akart - Whiteout

Rafael approached them. “What’s going on?”

Peter motioned for him to step a few paces away from the women. “Those assholes went back up the highway to refuel. Rafael, we don’t have much time. They’re gonna rape these two. Plain and simple. And I’m not gonna let it happen.”

Rafael studied Peter’s eyes and glanced over at the mother and daughter, who continued to cry, before looking toward the highway. Then he said something Peter hadn’t asked for, much less expected.

“I’ll help you.”

“Wait, you can’t. Your family might be—”

Rafael cut him off by calling for his wife. “Maria! Please. Come!”

Maria walked briskly across the parking lot, and Rafael met her halfway. After a brief exchange, they approached the two women. Peter joined them.

“This is my wife, Maria,” Rafael began as the two women focused their attention toward her. “Please go with her to our room and stay for a while.”

“But he said he would—” The daughter tried to relay the threat she’d received before Maria interrupted.

“No, honey. None of that is going to happen. You must hurry. Come with me.”

The mother turned to Peter with sullen, but hopeful eyes. “Are you sure? They have guns.”

“We’re sure. Go.”

Rafael gently placed his arm behind their backs and urged them to follow his wife. Then he issued instructions to the rest of the passengers.

“Everyone! Listen to me. Go back to your rooms and barricade the doors. Stay away from the windows and don’t come out until we say so. Do you understand?”

“Why?”

“What’s happening?”

“Why did they leave us?”

Off in the distance, the roar of the cargo truck’s engine could be heard as the driver shifted gears. Peter ran to Rafael’s side. He pulled the weapon from his waistband and handed it to Rafael grip first.

“They’re coming back.”

Rafael shouted at the others, “Hurry. Get in your rooms. Now!”

At the sight of the two men brandishing their weapons, the other passengers became frightened and scampered back to their rooms. Peter and Rafael eased back under the canopy and prepared to fight.

“What are you thinking?” asked Peter.

“We wait in the rooms for them. They’re expecting the women to be there. They’ll find us instead.”

“Take ’em out?” asked Peter, wanting to confirm Rafael was prepared to kill the men, just as he was.

“Without hesitation,” came the response.

Peter made a fist and presented it to Rafael, who immediately bumped it in return. They moved quickly to get into position.

Barely a minute later, the truck slowed and eased into the parking lot of the motel. Peter’s heart raced as he assumed the role of assassin. He wiped the beads of sweat off his forehead that began to drip toward his eyebrows despite the chilly temperatures. The truck shut off, and the sound of the heavy steel doors slamming indicated the men were heading his way. Using the barrel of his gun, he nudged the musty nylon curtain aside to watch for Mr. Uber’s approach. Then his eyes grew wide.

“What the hell?”

Sunday, November 3

Driftwood Key

One would think during the apocalypse that people would have all kinds of free time on their hands. No jobs. No television. No extracurricular activities. Wrong. Every moment of every day was dedicated to sustaining themselves through growing food or fishing. Plus, as external threats grew, security became tantamount. If you can’t defend it, it isn’t yours.

It took a day and a half after the mayor’s contentious visit for Hank to meet with Sonny, Phoebe and Jimmy. This was followed by a serious conversation with Mike and Jessica around the bonfire on the beach. For the first time that Hank could remember, the group discussed the fate of Driftwood Key without passing out adult beverages.

“What did you think of the martial law declaration?” Hank asked his brother.

Mike paced through the sand, periodically stopping to mindlessly flatten out a mound only to build it up again with his feet. “It’s pretty simple. The only people around here who are free happen to have that word as their last name. The president has taken over every aspect of our country while eviscerating the Bill of Rights. Lindsey’s threats are real and could be backed up by force if necessary.”

Jessica wasn’t so sure. “Come on, guys. How far would she go?”

“I don’t know, Jess,” replied Mike. “But the way that thing reads, what’s ours is theirs. Hell, they could strip it all away if they want. Food. Guns. Boats. The damn deed to the property!”

“I just can’t believe it would go that far,” said Jessica. “People would never stand for it.”

“Some might,” mumbled Hank.

“Whadya mean?” she asked.

“Think about it. How many residents or businesses have an operation close to what we have here? Very few, if any. Right? So who’s gonna stand up to Lindsey and whatever kind of force she employs to take what we have? Us and a handful of others. The majority of the rest might welcome her actions.”

Jessica grimaced. She still couldn’t believe these types of drastic measures were being contemplated. “But, Hank, the mayor has to know if they took everything we have and kicked us off the Keys, there wouldn’t be enough to feed all the mouths who weren’t ready for this.”

“Jessica, if you saw the look in her eyes yesterday, you’d know that she meant business. We’ve known Lindsey for a long time. She’s conniving, but once she has the power, she doesn’t bluff.”

Mike finally sat down. “What’s the plan?”

Hank took a deep breath and relayed his thoughts. “We give them something. Just a little bit at a time.”

“Like what?” asked Jessica.

“For starters, Jimmy has volunteered to be deputized.”

“Jesus!” said Mike, who leapt out of his chair and began pacing again. “Do you know what they’re doing with these deputies? They’re sending them with a rifle to the checkpoints to process people who want in. People demanding entry pull weapons at the border checkpoint all the time.”

“Shhh.” Jessica admonished her husband to keep his voice down. “Don’t tell Phoebe and Sonny. They’ll freak out.”

Hank asked, “Can you work with the sheriff to keep him off the checkpoints?”

“I can try, but Lindsey has him wrapped around her finger. The whole department is talking about the change he’s undergone. Prior to the last several days, there was never any love lost between them. Now they’re thick as thieves.”

Hank laughed. “Maybe that’s it. To the victors go the spoils.”

“Whadya mean?” asked Jessica.

“What I mean is this happens all the time when political leaders get too much power. They make sure they get theirs and their families are taken care of. The rest of us have to go along with this shared sacrifice notion, but the same rules don’t apply to them.”

Mike stopped pacing. “Rules for thee but not for me.”

“Pretty much,” mumbled Hank.

Jessica asked, “After we send them Jimmy, weakening our own defenses, then what? They want food, too?”

“Yes, but I don’t plan on giving it to them,” replied Hank. “I’ve gotta talk with Sonny and Phoebe about cutting back our production to feed just us.”

“Patrick, too?” asked Jessica.

“Squirrely scumbag,” said Mike, who was in a testy mood. “The more I interact with that guy, the more I’m ready to send him packin’.”

“I can’t disagree, Mike,” said Hank. “I’m still not sure why he wasn’t ready to go to the hospital after he was up and moving around. And his story seems to be changing.”