Nuclear Winter First Strike: Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller

by Bobby Akart

  “Son, that sucks, but how does that affect the U.S., or me for that matter?”

  “An hour ago, India sent military jets into Pakistan and bombed its nuclear facility at Chashma. Dad, this is two hundred miles into the center of Pakistan from the Indian border. Islamabad is freakin’ pissed!”

  “What does that mean, exactly?” asked Hank.

  “NSA recon birds indicate Pakistan is repositioning their nuclear-capable, road-mobile ballistic missiles. It could be a bluff, or they could be preparing to retaliate.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line. Finally, Hank said, “Bottom line it for me, son.”

  “Dad, the president is already on the hot seat for not coming to Israel’s aid after Iran shot first. If Pakistan does the same, and he chooses to stay out of it, this will make us look weak to Russia, China, and the North Koreans. We’ll be vulnerable to attack.”

  Hank still appeared uncertain of how that impacted the U.S. or Florida. “Are you suggesting we need to be searching for a bunker?”

  “No. Well, maybe. I am saying you need to know where one is. At the worst case, if war breaks out over there and we’re not drawn into it, supply lines and commerce will be disrupted worldwide. It will have a huge impact on everything, including food and gas prices, as well as availability.”

  “Okay, son. Listen, I trust you. This is actually the second conversation I’ve had about this in as many days. Let me relay what you’ve said to Mike, and do you have a moment to call your sister?”

  “I’m on it, Dad. Listen, you know I don’t like to interrupt you with phone calls. I’ll text if I have solid news, okay?”

  “Love ya, Pete,” said Hank.

  “I love you, too, Dad.”

  The two men disconnected the call. Peter wandered around the lawn and thought of how he might approach his sister. She was not an alarmist and probably had a more level head than he did. He’d just lay out what he knew. It would be up to her and Owen to decide what was best for them and Tucker.

  He dialed Lacey’s number and got voicemail. His chin dropped to his chest. He fired off the same text he’d sent his dad, hoping for a quick reply. After several minutes, she hadn’t, and he’d just received a text to report to the Office of Press Operations at the State Department. With a worried look on his face, he ran across C Street, dodging taxis and travelers going about their day, oblivious to the events in South Asia.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Monday, October 21

  Driftwood Key

  Hank hailed Sonny on the island’s two-way radio system. He told him to find Jimmy, who’d returned from the fishing trip and was on a lunch break. He wanted them to meet at the main house before he sat down alone with Phoebe to place their food and liquor orders.

  While he waited for his top employees to arrive, he sat in his office and took a moment to log in to his portal on the First State Bank website. They’d been the Albright family’s bank since 1955 when they first opened an office in Key West. He navigated between the primary business checking account and his personal account.

  Hank was a saver, and he’d managed the business well. Although Mike had no part of running the inn, he was an owner by virtue of inheritance. Hank made sure Mike was kept abreast of the inn’s financial affairs. Hank received a fair salary, and Mike received an annual stipend. The two brothers used to joke that Mike’s share was protection money because of his law enforcement career.

  He logged out of his accounts and checked his watch. It was almost three. He could hit the branch in Islamorada before it closed at four, or for sure make his way to the drive-thru by five that afternoon. What he planned on doing couldn’t be handled by an ATM machine after hours.

  Hank glanced out his office windows in the direction of the beach. He wished Erin hadn’t left with her sisters for Key West like so many others that day. They were interested in seeing what Fantasy Fest had to offer without getting caught up in the madness brought by the larger crowds as the weekend approached. Without giving away Peter’s inside information, he felt the need to talk with her about what he’d learned.

  A light tapping at the door interrupted his thoughts. “Mr. Hank, can we come in?”

  The door was ajar and then opened slightly. The three faces of the Free family poked through the opening from shortest, Phoebe, to tallest, Jimmy. Hank managed a smile despite his serious mood. He loved them all as if they had Albright blood running through their veins.

  “Come in, guys.”

  Phoebe led the way with her oversized ledger pulled tight against her chest. She’d used the same Wilson Jones ring ledger system for years. Every January, she’d set it up for the year and filed the previous year on a shelf in the outdoor storage building where cleaning supplies and other housekeeping related items were kept. Nobody entered that storage building without Phoebe unlocking it. She ran a very tight ship.

  She took a seat in an armchair in front of Hank’s desk while Sonny and Jimmy sat on the rattan sofa across the spacious room. All three of them had a look of concern on their faces, as it was unusual for Hank to have a meeting such as this.

  “Mr. Hank,” began Phoebe tentatively, “I hope there’s no bad news.”

  “No, Phoebe. Not yet, anyway. That said, we need to do a few things. Unusual for our normal routine, but nothing that will go to waste. Let me get Sonny and Jimmy started first because they have some errands to run.”

  “Okay, Mr. Hank,” said Sonny, who sat up on the edge of the sofa.

  Hank spun around and pulled out two small notepads bearing the Driftwood Key Inn logo on them. They were complimentary in each guest room. He tossed them to Sonny and Jimmy along with a logo’d pen.

  “This is gonna seem out of the ordinary because, well, it is. At the same time, I’ll feel better when we’re done.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Jimmy.

  Hank stood and paced the floor, mindlessly glancing out the windows of the corner office space as he gave instructions. He tried to process everything logically, thinking of the operations of the inn during any given day and week.

  “Jimmy, you first. I need you to take every vehicle on the island. I mean trucks, personal cars, and even the golf carts. Top them all off with fuel. While you’re at it, find every available gas can and fill them up as well. Diesel, too. I want you to use a different station with each fill-up. Also, while you’re there, buy more gas and diesel cans. Fill them up, too.”

  “Mr. Hank, is a hurricane coming that we didn’t know about?” asked Jimmy as he exchanged glances with his parents.

  “No, not exactly. However, we’re gonna get prepared in the same way and then some.”

  “Okay, how many gas cans do you want me to buy?”

  “All of them,” replied Hank without emotion. Noticing the questioning looks on their faces, he added, “Just go with me on this. We need to stock up. The worst case is we’ll use it over time and this afternoon was unnecessary.”

  Jimmy shrugged. “Anything else?”

  “No. You’re good to go,” he replied as he looked from Jimmy to Sonny. “I’ve increased the spending limit on your debit card, so you shouldn’t have a problem.”

  Jimmy rose and started out the door. “I’ll see ya later.”

  Hank raised his voice slightly. “Oh, Jimmy, also buy several cases of bottled water at each stop. Again, no discussion or explanation is owed to anyone. That’s why I want you to use different stations throughout Marathon, okay?”

  “Yes, Mr. Hank.”

  He turned to Sonny. “I need you to contact the propane company and our gas suppliers. Fill up all the storage tanks we have on the property. Then take the boat to the marina and fill it up, too. When you get back, come find me. I’ll have a list for the Home Depot in Marathon.”

  Sonny left with his marching orders, leaving Hank alone with Phoebe. Hank knew he wouldn’t be able to brush off her questions as easily as he had the others’.

  She calmly set the food and supply ledger on his
desk, followed by her glasses. She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. Then she gave him the look. It was the look all women learned from their mothers and grandmothers. The one that shouted no bullshit, mister, without saying a single word. Hank had experienced it his entire life.

  He stood and closed the door, which Sonny had left open. “Okay, it’s just you and me,” said Hank as he eased back into his chair, locking eyes with Phoebe.

  She forced a smile and nodded. “That it is.”

  Her tone was threatening, in a motherly sort of way. In seconds, she had Hank spilling the tea without asking a single question. He held back the direst of warnings garnered from his conversations with Peter and Erin from the day before. He revealed enough to Phoebe to provide her a sense of urgency and to not question his intentions. After he was done, she summed up the preparations succinctly.

  “It’s like preparing for a hurricane, except on steroids.”

  “That’s a pretty good way of putting it,” he said.

  “I can place the order on Sysco’s website. Some of the things, like cleaning supplies and personal hygiene, I’ll order from Southeast Wholesale.” Phoebe thought for a moment as she made notes in her ledger. She looked up over her glasses and asked, “For how long?”

  Hank gulped as he thought to himself, I don’t know. How long do you wanna live? However, he resisted the urge to share his inner drama.

  “A few months for nonperishables. A year, odd as that sounds, for basic supplies.”

  “Like?” she asked.

  “Think of your everyday activities. Not just as Phoebe the chef but as Phoebe who just rolled out of bed. Consider what you do first, second, third, etcetera. Same is true for every waking moment until you go to sleep. Whatever products you use, stockpile a lot of it. Make sure you buy for both men and women, if you know what I mean.”

  “I understand. We’re gonna need more storage space.”

  Hank closed his eyes and nodded. “If you order this afternoon, when will the trucks deliver to us?”

  “Tomorrow, first thing. As long as it’s in by seven this evening, it’ll be dropped off early in the morning.”

  “Good. We’ll find the space to store it.”

  She continued to ask for direction. “What about perishables? Produce, dairy, stuff like that.”

  “Order as much as your walk-in coolers can handle. We can keep them running with our generators until the food is gone.”

  “Why would we need generators?”

  “For when the power goes out.”

  Phoebe sat back in her chair and removed her glasses. She stared at Hank for a long, uncomfortable moment. She finally spoke. “When? Or if?”

  Hank exhaled. “We need to prepare for the worst, Phoebe. If nothing happens, then we have a lot of extra food and supplies to use up before we buy any more. Here’s the way I look at what we’re doing today. It’s kinda like buying insurance. I invest in peace of mind with every payment to Chubb. I hope nothing happens, but if it does, I have a plan. Same is true with what we’re doing right now. We are ensuring our ability to deal with the worst-case scenario.”

  Phoebe glanced at her watch. “All right, Mr. Hank. I’d better get started so I can place the orders before I prepare dinner for our new arrivals. Will you be joining them tonight?”

  Hank grimaced. He was far too preoccupied to socialize; plus he wanted to corner Erin when she returned from Key West.

  “Will you pass along my apologies and tell them I’ll make it up to them this week?”

  Phoebe nodded, and then a scowl came over her face. “Mr. Hank, our families have been through a lot. I don’t doubt the Albrights and Frees could face any challenge. But we’ve got eighteen bungalows filled with strangers from all over. What about them?”

  Hank’s face turned ashen. He hadn’t thought about all the people on Driftwood Key that he bore responsibility for. Not to mention those who might be en route to fill their places on checkout. He grimaced as he realized he’d have to get rid of them and cancel incoming reservations. But when? And what if he was wrong?

  “I don’t know. Let me think on it. Now, I’ve got to go to the bank and make a couple of other stops.”

  Phoebe waved her hand and left his office. Hank gathered his wallet, car keys and a notepad. He made his way into the master bedroom suite that had been occupied by his parents and their parents before them. He walked to a solid wood door, the only one that wasn’t louvered in the main house. The key to the lock was kept in his bottom dresser drawer. Hank bent over to retrieve it and then tentatively unlocked it.

  As the door swung open, he muttered, “I never thought I’d need to get in here.”

  Inside the walk-in closet stood a gray Liberty gun safe with Lady Liberty emblazoned across the front. The safe had been there for many years, still requiring the user to turn a numbered dial to get inside. In the closet, on both sides of the safe, were shelves of ammunition stacked neatly by brand and caliber.

  Most of the ammunition was seven years old. Mike, who was an expert marksman and personally managed the Albrights’ cache of weapons, made sure the oldest ammunition was used first when he and Jessica went to the range. Hank had never taken an interest in guns, and other than training with Mike years ago, he never practiced. He didn’t think it would be necessary. He was wrong.

  He started making notes. Tonight, he would consult with Mike, who was really wrapped up in his murder investigation, especially since they’d discovered the third body. Hank would have to make multiple trips to Bass Pro Shops as well as local bait and tackle shops to stock up.

  He began his list until he noticed the time. It was 4:30. He needed to get to the bank before it closed. He planned on making a cash withdrawal that would probably make the local branch manager wonder if he was making a drug deal.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Monday, October 21

  McDowell Residence

  Hayward, California

  Lacey had been at her store, Jefferson Outfitters, working with one of her best customers when Peter called. She didn’t see the text message until after lunch, when she frantically began calling him to see what was wrong. After they had a conversation along the same lines as he’d had earlier with their father, Lacey told her employees to close up for her. She decided to pick Tucker up from school so he’d be with her. Just in case.

  Her son was very level-headed and mature for his age. Fortunately, his interests were similar to his parents’. Enjoying the outdoors. He wasn’t into music or the party scene teenagers found themselves exposed to in the Bay Area. Tucker would rather go hiking, camping or snowboarding than attend a concert or hang out with other kids his age.

  “Mom, you know Uncle Peter and I are tight. He never goes highkey, you know what I mean?”

  No, not really, but she caught his drift. Lacey’s thought caused her to smile. Highkey was Tucker’s era. Catching his drift was hers.

  “Dramatic?” she asked.

  “Yeah. I mean, he’s a reporter, and I know it’s his job to hype things up. He’s never done that with us.”

  Lacey nodded. Her younger brother wouldn’t ring these alarm bells with their family if he wasn’t genuinely concerned, and certain, that something was coming that could possibly affect them.

  “The question is, what do we do about it?” she asked.

  “Have you called Dad?”

  “I spoke to him briefly. He said he wanted to look into something, you know, on a hunch.”

  Tucker laughed. “Dad’s big on his hunches.”

  The phone rang. It was Owen. “His ears must’ve been burning.” Lacey connected the call through the SUV’s sound system. “Hey, honey.”

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “Tucker? Aren’t you supposed—?”

  Lacey cut him off to explain. “I decided to pick him up. I thought it would be a good idea for us to sort this out together.”

  “Well, I’m glad you did,” said Owen. “Listen to this. I reached out to our
department that analyzes internet searches around the world. A lot of people don’t realize this, but search engines like Yahoo! have a literal pulse on the mindset of a country or locale based upon their trending searches. It’s mind-boggling what information we have access to that can be cross-referenced through search activity.

  “Anyway, when you relayed Peter’s concerns, I thought I’d check with our people and have them look into Yahoo metrics for Pakistan and India. While they did, I called my buddy at Google. Face it. Google dominates outside the U.S., with like ninety-eight percent of the market share.

  “Well, anyway, I heard back from both resources just now. Search terms related to the term nuclear are off the charts in both countries. And get this, on Google, one of the top five trending searches today is nuclear fallout shelter near me.”

  “Wow!” said Tucker excitedly. “Uncle Peter’s right. We need to get ready.”

  Lacey furrowed her brow as she turned into their neighborhood. “What do you think, Owen?”

  “Well, most of the time these search results are based on media-driven hype. The airstrikes by India in Pakistan are the top news story in most countries on that side of the world. Here, there’s hardly a mention.”

  Lacey pulled the truck into the driveway and opened the garage door. As she waited for it to open completely, she suddenly put the car in park. Tucker looked over at her with a puzzled look on his face. She held up one finger, indicating he needed to wait a moment.

  She took a deep breath and studied herself in the mirror. Her eyes moved from side to side as if to surveil her surroundings, but in actuality, she was making sure everything around her was real and not a dream.

  “Honey, are you still there?” Owen asked.

  “Yes. I hate to ask this question because I’ve never wanted you to feel pressure to leave the office. Um, but what time will you be home tonight?”