Nuclear Winter Desolation: Post Apocalyptic Survival Thriller (Nuclear Winter Series Book 5) Read online

  “It sure would help those of us who had our food stolen by those thieves!” a man in the back shouted.

  “Can’t argue with that!” added another.

  Hank began to wonder if the crowd was going to remain friendly. They might not have been armed, but they outnumbered them by six to one. So to pacify them, he lied. He stuck his neck out and made a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep.

  “I’m going to propose we create a food bank for the residents of Marathon, starting with the food storage held in the high school. We also need to set up some type of barter market or exchange location. You know, someone who might have too much bleach can trade a bottle for someone who has some extra canned goods. It’s being done up north and can be done here also.”

  “That’s a great idea, Hank!” shouted a woman who stood off to the side.

  “We’ve all talked about it, but nobody does anything. Thank you, sir!” said a man in the crowd.

  Erin chimed in, “We will contact your mayor about a possible location. Maybe we can do it here at the high school or through the churches. It’s not such a great idea to be out in this air, you know.”

  The onlookers were enthusiastically on board with the proposal.

  “Let’s do it. I have fish to trade in exchange for stuff.”

  “Same here!”

  “When will it start?”

  Hank leaned into Erin and whispered in a sarcastic tone, “We’re all in now.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Tuesday, November 12

  Administration Building

  Key West

  Lindsey had just received a briefing from her mayor pro tem and Sheriff Jock. She dismissed her staff and loyalists but asked Jock to remain behind. Once her office suite had been cleared, she pulled a bottle of scotch out of her desk drawer and poured them both drinks in Dixie cups intended for the pitcher of water on her credenza.

  “Why do you look so pissy, Jock? I consider this a good start. Not great, but good.”

  “I lost deputies today.” His tone was solemn. He threw back the scotch and poured himself another. He paced the floor as he spoke. “Sure, we had a good run on the most valuable location on our target list, but obviously we were done after the Gordon’s debacle.”

  Lindsey wasn’t much for consoling the men in her life. In her mind, emotional men were weak. She used their weakness to lead them to do her bidding. Jock Daly was no different. She’d kept him on a tight leash for years, and she didn’t need him to get soft on her now.

  She walked around her desk to rub his shoulders. He closed his eyes, and the tension was immediately released from his body. She spoke in soft tones as she tried to lift his spirits.

  “Your teams had no way of knowing those guys were locked up in that building. From what your sergeant said in the debrief, they were pros. Ex-LEOs or even military. It could’ve been much worse.”

  Jock nodded but still lamented the death of his men. “It’s gonna make it difficult to keep our deputies interested in the raids.”

  Lindsey rolled her eyes behind his back. “Here’s what you have to remind them of. A large portion of the food we secure will go to their families. They are being rewarded with the gift of life. Is it risky? Damn straight. Will they die if they don’t take the risk? Sooner or later, yes.”

  “I know. I’ll make sure that’s drilled into the new teams tomorrow morning before they start again. It’s gonna be a bigger challenge, you know. The word spread throughout Key West. Now, you have business owners redoubling their efforts to secure their buildings. Those with guns are marching up and down the sidewalks, threatening to shoot anyone who comes close. There’s an angry mob outside demanding to know what happens to the food that’s being confiscated.”

  Lindsey returned to her desk and plopped into her chair with a full cup of scotch. She took a sip while studying her sheriff and occasional lover.

  “Jock, you might have to make examples of a few people. Do you follow me?”

  “Do you want me to shoot the doughnut shop owner?” he said with a hint of snark.

  Lindsey didn’t appreciate the retort but admired his spunk. At least he wasn’t feeling sorry for himself any longer. “No, not necessarily. Your rules of engagement should remain the same. Return fire when fired upon. If someone tries to shoot one of your people, shoot to kill, and then leave the body for everyone to see. I think that’ll tamp down any resistance.”

  “There were quite a few civilians killed in the gun battle at Gordon’s.”

  Lindsey smirked. “They should’ve stayed the hell out of the way, then. Listen, Jock. There’s gonna be collateral damage in all of this. You understand that, right? It’s unavoidable. If word spreads through the town like you said, maybe part of that message will be to avoid getting involved.”

  “I get it. We’ll see how tomorrow goes. However, I get the sense your constituents are rippin’ pissed at what happened at Gordon’s today.”

  “They’ll get over it when we start handing out rations in a week or so.”

  The sheriff wandered to the window and looked over the crowd of people who were huddled outside the administration building. They were animated. Agitated. Some were distraught.

  “I hope we can make it until then,” he mumbled as he finished his second drink.

  “We’ll be fine. If they make trouble, clamp down. Got it?” Lindsey was ready to move on to the rumors she’d heard from Marathon.

  “Are you going to send someone up to Marathon High School to find out what happened today? My staff was told there was a shoot-out between some of your people and armed gunmen who broke into the high school.”

  Jock didn’t have anyone to spare to investigate the shooting. He was going on what he’d heard through the rumor mill. “All we know so far is that a group of men and women, maybe eight to ten in total, broke into the high school warehouse to steal food. Mike Albright, who’s in charge of the substation up there, responded with a deputy. They surprised the burglars, and that’s when the shooting began. From what I’m told, all of those involved in the break-in were killed.”

  Lindsey was both perplexed and curious. “By two men? Detective Albright and a single deputy?” She reached for the bottle of scotch to pour herself another drink and made a mental note to add a state-run ABC liquor store to tomorrow’s raid list.

  Jock responded as she retrieved the bottle, “Well, no. Actually, they had some help. Apparently, Hank Albright showed up at the scene with a woman. I think her name was Bergmann, or something like that. My source said she claimed to be some kind of Washington bigwig.”

  The blood flowed out of the mayor’s face as it turned ashen white. She slammed the bottle of scotch on her desk and immediately stood up. “Erin Bergmann? Secretary of Agriculture for that scumbag Helton?”

  Jock shrugged. He had no idea who the Secretary of Agriculture was and what she’d be doing in the Keys. All he knew was the information genuinely struck a nerve with Lindsey.

  “I can find out—” he began to respond before she cut him off.

  “Listen to me, Jock. You send someone you trust to Marathon and find out what the hell is going on up there. Confirm whether she’s in my county. She could be working with President Helton to come after me.”

  “Come on, Lindsey. You’re just being paranoid.”

  Her face turned from white with fear to red rage. She slammed the palm of her hand on her desk, causing the Dixie cup half full of scotch to jump slightly.

  “I’m not messing around. Find out if this is true and where this woman is staying. Was she with Hank? Why is she here? Who has been in contact with her? Everything!”

  Part IV

  Day twenty-seven, Wednesday, November 13

  Chapter Thirty

  Wednesday, November 13

  U. S. Army War College

  Carlisle Barracks

  Carlisle, Pennsylvania

  Following the morning briefing, President Helton and Chief of Staff Chandler returned t
o the presidential office suite to discuss the reports they’d received. In just three weeks, there had been twelve million deaths resulting directly from the nuclear detonations. Another thirty-five million had died indirectly from starvation, lack of clean water, and societal collapse. That number was rising exponentially by the day, with his FEMA administrator estimating that at least two-thirds of the U.S. population would be dead within a year.

  “Mr. President, I appreciate FEMA providing us these estimates,” said Chandler as he closed the door to the president’s office behind them. “However, I think he’s overly pessimistic. I believe the American people will come together to help one another.”

  “I don’t know, Harrison. Our power grid is the beating heart of this nation. Our near-total reliance on electricity and what happens when that heart stops beating is beginning to show.”

  Chandler sighed. “I have to admit the report from Director McClain was dire. As much money as we spend, we couldn’t manage to carve out a billion here and a billion there to harden our grid.”

  Tom McClain was the director of FERC, the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission’s Office of Energy Infrastructure Security. During the briefing, he’d accused prior administrations of adopting the proverbial ostrich-head-in-the-sand approach. The consequences of a complete loss of the electrical grid were too terrible to think about; therefore, political leaders didn’t. The Helton administration was equally culpable.

  President Helton agreed, expanding on his chief of staff’s point. “All it would take was to add those neutral current-blocking devices between our major transmission systems. McClain said protecting two hundred of these critical transformers would’ve prevented the cascading failure we experienced.”

  “A twenty-million-dollar investment would’ve prevented this,” lamented Chandler.

  The two men grew quiet for a moment as they contemplated Chandler’s words. Now they faced a monumental task of replacing hundreds of transformers around the country. It wasn’t just the cost of replacing them that was daunting. It was the production process. It would take many years for foreign manufacturers to build the transformers to meet America’s specifications. Not to mention the single biggest producer of power equipment was China, America’s biggest economic and geopolitical rival.

  The president was anxious to change the subject, although there wasn’t much of anything to lighten the mood. “The Pentagon seems to think they’ll have troops and National Guardsmen in a position to take control of the major cities soon.”

  “That’s where the greatest loss of life has occurred,” said Chandler with a nod. “The battle for resources, namely food and water, has resulted in anarchy. The problem, however, is that FEMA doesn’t have enough supplies stored to last these high-population areas more than a week or so. They may be successful in restoring order, although it won’t last as our food and water resources dwindle.”

  The president spun in his office chair to study a large wall map of the United States. Pushpins and markers identified certain cities as being priorities. Boundaries were drawn around areas that were considered hotspots to be avoided by the military. In other words, hopeless. Examples were the major cities hit by the nuclear bombs and large population areas that were completely lawless.

  “Harrison, we have to play god. I can’t believe that we’re in this situation. But, honestly, the only way to move forward is to decide who to save and leave the rest of the nation to fend for themselves. We simply cannot save everybody.”

  “I’ve thought about this as well, Mr. President, but I wouldn’t dare bring it up during our briefings. I will say that it’s likely on the minds of your closest advisors.”

  “Has anyone said anything?”

  “No, but I’ve studied them since we began making your cabinet choices. Other than Erin, I’ve had a pretty good read on them. At some point when you’re ready to broach the subject of rebuilding certain parts of the nation first to the detriment of other parts, I believe they’ll be receptive.”

  The president stood to take a closer look at the map. “Do we focus on saving the most? You know, focus on our large regional cities like New York, Chicago, and Philly, of course.”

  Chandler had given this some thought. “In the short term, seven to ten years, as nuclear winter continues to plague us, I think we should consider midsize cities in the Sunbelt. Their level of societal collapse is less than in the Northeast and the West Coast. Besides, people are already migrating to typically warmer climates.”

  The president ran his fingers through his thinning hair and sighed. “We’ve got to resolve this Texas situation. That state could support many refugees in a climate that could still support agriculture. Florida, too.”

  Chandler brought up Erin. “Bergmann hasn’t checked in with me since her arrival in the Keys. I need to touch base with her.”

  The president turned to his chief of staff. “We have a lot on our platter, but insurrection doesn’t need to be one of them. Whether it’s small uprisings like what we’ve experienced in the Mountain West, the UP, and the Keys, or those damn Texans, this has to be dealt with. I don’t know who is a bigger threat to our nation. The looters in the major cities or the people who think they can spit on the Constitution.”

  His chief of staff and longtime friend agreed. “If we don’t nip it in the bud, then others will follow their lead.”

  “What if we make an example of one of these wild-card communities? Obviously, Texas is a whole nother matter. The groups in Idaho are too small and the state is too remote for word to spread of the military successfully tamping down the uprisings. The Upper Peninsula of Michigan is similar.”

  “The Florida Keys are different,” interjected Carter. “Unlike the other regions where armed militia created barricades and warned off federal government personnel, the locals down there destroyed bridges that likely won’t be rebuilt until the nation has power. And even then there are other more pressing projects to address.”

  “So you consider their actions the worst offender?” asked the president.

  “Well, Texans are the worst, but to make an example of them would require something akin to a war. The Keys are different. Our Coast Guard vessels with a couple of Marine platoons would bring it to an end.”

  President Helton tried to imagine the Marines storming the beaches of the Florida Keys. Would they face opposition? How ugly might it be? He took a deep breath and turned to Chandler.

  “Reach out to Erin. Tell her the clock’s ticking. She’s got days, not weeks, to give me what I sent her there to do.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Wednesday, November 13

  Driftwood Key

  “Well, that was interesting,” said Erin as she reentered the main house. Hank and Mike stood in the foyer, awaiting her return from the unexpected phone call. She’d kept the satellite phone charged intermittently when Sonny ran the generator to maintain the temperature in the refrigerator. During that quick one-hour time period, everyone in the main house scrambled to undertake chores or charge devices, from cell phones to flashlight batteries.

  “Was it the president?” asked Mike.

  Erin returned the satphone to the charger that sat atop the reception desk along with several other devices, including Mike’s police-issued two-way radio. She glanced around the rooms leading into the spacious foyer.

  In a whisper, she replied, “Let’s talk in the car.”

  Hank nodded and grabbed his shotgun from behind the door. All of them carried handguns and rifles whenever they left Driftwood Key. For most, a sidearm was strapped to their waist during every waking moment. It had become the new normal.

  Mike checked with Sonny and Phoebe in the kitchen before the trio left. Hank took Erin by the arm and led her onto the front porch, where they slipped on their surgical masks. As they did, he leaned into her.

  “Problems?”

  Erin grimaced. “I’d call it more of an ultimatum. A deadline.”

  “Or what?” asked H
ank, but before she could answer, Mike joined them.

  That morning, they’d decided to try a direct approach by appealing to Lindsey in her office. They hoped to stave off an inevitable confrontation with the woman who was once Sonny and Phoebe’s sister-in-law. While Hank and Erin tried to meet with her, Mike would spend his time at the sheriff’s department to learn what he could about the raids.

  After they were secured inside Mike’s truck, they removed their masks. The air quality was slowly deteriorating, and the group considered themselves to be fortunate to have a large supply of medical masks from the hospital. After they spoke to Peter and Tucker at the gate, they slowly made their way toward U.S. 1.

  Erin explained what she meant by an ultimatum. “Here’s what’s disconcerting. That was the nicest that Harrison Chandler has been since the day I was sworn in as Secretary of Agriculture. Our relationship has gone south ever since. His sudden change of attitude makes me think he’s up to something.”

  Hank was confused. “But you said he gave you an ultimatum. A deadline. That doesn’t sound pleasant to me.”

  “Oh, make no mistake, Mr. Chandler was all peaches and cream until he whipped out the knives and said we only have days, not weeks, to get Lindsey removed from office.”

  Mike shook his head in disbelief as he wheeled his truck onto the highway. As he spoke, he maneuvered around a number of stalled cars and entered the Seven Mile Bridge.

  “What does he expect us to do? Storm the palace?”

  Erin shrugged. “That’s the thing. It was an ultimatum, sort of, but he didn’t actually tell me what the consequences are. I could read between the lines as to where he’s coming from. The president is overwhelmed.”