by Bobby Akart
Owen grimaced. His son had made a good point. “No, but times are different. We know the devastating effects of these things. Listen, I’m not saying your mom is overreacting. Just, you know, text me if you feel she needs my support. Okay?”
Tucker smiled. “Sure, Dad.”
“What does she have planned for the day?” asked Owen.
Tucker responded with a question of his own. He wondered if the family’s plans had changed in light of what was going on. “We’re still going to Tahoe Thursday, right?”
“You betcha,” said Owen, reaching up to scruff the long, sandy blond locks of his son. He styled it like a surf bum who’d just rolled out of a hammock for the day. “We’ll get loaded up tomorrow afternoon. I’m gonna bug out of the office as early as I can.”
“That’s lit, Dad. Mom has us running errands all day. She has to stop by the store, and then we’re going to Costco.”
“More stocking up?” asked Owen.
“I guess so. Hey, I’m along for the ride. We’re gonna have In-N-Out burgers for lunch. Works for me, you know?”
Owen rubbed his son’s hair again and then made his way into the family room. “Hey, babe. I gotta roll. You guys have fun today.”
Lacey had switched stations to the Weather Channel. They were discussing past record-breaking winters in the Sierra Nevada Mountains and how this early-October snowfall had followed a similar timeline as the others.
“Are we still good to go?” asked Owen, startling Lacey, who was deep in thought. She flinched, and he immediately felt bad. “Honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
Lacey turned around and spontaneously kissed her husband. It was a meaningful kiss. The kind longtime married couples share less and less often over the years.
“I love you, Owen,” she said in a serious tone.
He hugged her. He tried to use humor to break her out of her melancholy mood. “What’s not to love? Smart. Handsome. I still have all my hair and teeth. See?” He provided her a Cheshire cat grin.
“Now I hate you,” she said with a laugh. She playfully slugged him on the chest.
He laughed with her. “Good, that’s better. Now, is makeup sex an option?”
She pounded him in earnest this time. “Get out of my house!”
They embraced again, and she sighed. After a moment, she pulled away and wiped a solitary tear that escaped her eye.
“Part of me is upset about Peter’s call. Then the other side, the wife and mother side, wants to do everything I can to prepare for my family. I don’t know if any of this crap is gonna come our way, but I feel the need to do something.”
She pointed over her shoulder toward the television, which was still showing scenes of snow in Nevada. Owen knew she was referring to the nuclear devastation that had occurred between the two warring nations.
“Listen, I admire you for taking care of us. I know you’re not gonna go shopping for Humvees and shipping containers to bury in the ground like those people in Idaho.”
“Too much rock.”
“Rock?” asked a confused Owen.
“Because we sit up on this ridge, our backyard has too much rock for a shipping container.”
Owen furrowed his brow as he studied her face. “Seriously? You’ve thought about this.”
“Yes. After you fell asleep watching the news, I did a bunch of research. The shipping container won’t work for us, so we need to find out where the nuclear fallout shelters are.”
Owen glanced past Lacey and saw that she had her iPad sitting on the table next to several stacks of paper. Each one had a yellow Post-it note stuck on the front, identifying the purpose of the stack.
“Is this part of your research?” he asked, pointing at the table.
“Yes.”
“Geez, Lacey. Did you sleep at all?”
“A couple of hours,” she replied. “Here’s the thing, Owen. There is no man-made scenario worse than a nuclear war. Sure, large asteroid strikes and supervolcanos are extinction-level events, but man doesn’t control those things. Nuclear weapons can kill a lot of people all at once. Exhibit A …” Her voice trailed off as she grabbed the remote and switched back to the cable news network. The video footage was beginning to emerge out of the war-torn region in South Asia. It was Tehran all over again, times fifty.
Owen tried to tamp down her concerns. “I really don’t think that’ll happen here, but if you wanna do some things, I’m all for it.”
“I’m not going crazy, Owen. Nor will I empty the bank accounts on this stuff. I’d just feel better knowing we had some semblance of a plan. You know?”
He embraced his wife. “Now it’s my turn. I love you, Lacey McDowell.” Then he gave her a meaningful kiss.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Tuesday, October 22
Driftwood Key
Hank had spent the day with Sonny, walking every square foot of Driftwood Key’s twenty-eight acres. His mind was too cluttered to work from memory as to what aspects of the resort’s operations needed to be analyzed for backup mechanical parts or maintenance supplies. They had an extensive produce-growing operation on the key, which included greenhouses and hydroponics. Sonny was, in addition to virtually everything else, the man with the green thumb. Hank prided himself on his fishing skills, and Sonny carried the burden of growing fruits and vegetables. The division of responsibilities had served them well over the years.
With a new list in hand and half a dozen stops, Sonny set out for the day to purchase backup supplies and fertilizers for the gardening aspect of Driftwood Key. He also bought backup parts, fluids, and more shells for the marine shotguns he owned.
Hank took a few hours that morning to drive to Sea Tek Marine in Marathon, a local supplier of solar energy equipment. He bought additional panels to be mounted with their existing array that provided power to the bungalows. He also purchased their entire supply of charge controllers, batteries and power inverters that were compatible with their existing setup.
Then he stopped by the True Value in Marathon and purchased several medium-sized galvanized trash cans. He had been up late the night before studying the effects of an EMP on electronics. Erin had cautioned him that electronics would be unable to function if America was attacked with an electromagnetic pulse weapon, so Hank had decided to do a little research on the concept.
The complex subject gave him a wicked headache, so he took the last of his Advil to overcome it. That simple task, one that he did several times a week when his muscles were sore, reminded him that over-the-counter medicines and first aid were of vital importance. He searched for a checklist of commonly used medical supplies and provided it to Jimmy, who headed over to Walgreens to fill the order.
His research into EMPs revealed a method of protecting small electronics from the highly charged particles generated by a massive burst of energy. By placing these electronics, whether it be related to his solar array or communications devices, into the galvanized cans, he could protect them from the effects of an EMP.
The instructions were remarkably simple. Line the inside of the galvanized trash can with cardboard and Styrofoam, if available. Then wrap the electronics in heavy-duty aluminum foil. Secure the lid and wrap the rim with aluminum tape used by HVAC contractors. The result was an impenetrable place to store electronics known as a Faraday cage.
All of his research led him down a rabbit hole of preparedness websites that seemed to contradict one another at times. He applied his own logic and common sense and formulated a plan for the day.
After Phoebe served breakfast, Hank met with her in the kitchen. Their food suppliers had delivered early that morning, and cases of supplies were stacked in every available square foot of the kitchen and all along the back porch of the main house. They discussed a storage plan, and then Phoebe brought up the issue of their guests.
“Mr. Hank, you know I’m not one to question your decisions,” she began before Hank started laughing.
“Since when?”
“Okay, only once in a while,” she said with a tinge of guilt. “The thing is, I don’t know anything about politics or wars and don’t want to know about nuclear missiles. If you think something is gonna happen, you know, because your lady friend said so or Peter, then we need to make a decision about our guests.”
“They need to go, Phoebe.”
“Yes, Mr. Hank. If you believe this in your heart, you owe it to them to send them home. Some of these folks are from Colorado. That would be a long walk, if you know what I mean.”
His mind immediately shifted to Lacey. California was even longer. He had to convince her to come here. And soon.
“I agree. I’m thinking about telling them the water main between here and the mainland broke. They’ll have to evacuate because we don’t have any fresh water. I can have Laura cancel the incoming reservations.”
“If that’s what you think is necessary,” she added. “I just don’t know, Mr. Hank. It’s kinda like the chicken screamin’ the sky is falling.”
Hank sighed and shifted his feet as he rubbed his heels along the perpetually sand-covered wood floors. “Financially, we could close for more than a month and everything would be fine. It’s just, um, if I wait too long, we’ll be in a mess. I’m in a situation where we can’t support these people. But I feel obligated to take care of them. Every meal we serve them is a meal we won’t have for ourselves.”
Phoebe nodded in agreement. “You sound like you’ve thought it through.”
Hank laughed nervously. “I did last night. A lot, in fact, until I got a headache. To be honest, the nuclear attack this morning just sealed the decision. I’m gonna need to tell everyone in the morning that we can’t refill the water tower because of the water main break, and they have to check out. I’ll start Laura on cancelling the new reservations for the rest of the month right now.”
“Um, Mr. Hank. Are you gonna bring Lacey and Peter home? Family should stick together in troubling times.”
“That’s the next order of business. I’m calling Mike, Peter, and Lacey next. I just hope they’ll listen to me.”
Hank touched base with Peter first to get the latest news. Peter relayed most of the conversation he’d had with the State Department aide as well as a few additional tidbits. Earlier in the day, as the missiles were still flying in South Asia, North Korean president-for-life Kim Jong Un spoke to the DPRK’s 13th Party Congress, the Hermit Kingdom’s highest legislative event. In addition to his usual chest-puffing, he was intent on sending a message to his citizens and the rest of the world as to how dangerous he was capable of being.
Kim spent most of the speech reciting a list of advances in their missile and nuclear programs. He also outlined his plans for expanding them even more regardless of international sanctions. Then he immediately targeted South Korea and Japan with his threatening rhetoric.
His outlaw-like behavior was so convincing that both of the neighboring nations immediately raised their threat-assessment levels and placed their military defenses on a war footing. He then proceeded to attack President Helton. He pointed out the United States, and the new administration in particular, was full of empty threats and hollow promises. Specifically, he echoed what American political pundits and many within in the Department of Defense were saying. President Helton’s failure to act in defense of Israel, especially, was a sign of geopolitical impotence.
Peter cautioned his father that he was more concerned now than in their prior conversation. Hank, in turn, insisted Peter should come home. That was where the two men disagreed. Peter saw this as the biggest news story of his lifetime, at least thus far. He wanted to stick it out in the DC area so he could use his sources to bring the behind-the-scenes dealings into the public eye.
He made a hollow promise to heed the warnings and be prepared to leave the Washington area as soon as possible. From Newport News to the south, all the way up the East Coast, nuclear targets were abundant. He’d already mapped out a bug-out strategy that took him away from the city and the potential fallout resulting from a direct hit. And he honestly promised to act on it when he got a chance.
With this new information in hand, Hank touched base with Mike and Jessica. He convinced them to come to the inn for a late dinner and drinks. Mike had a break in his case and looked forward to discussing it with his brother.
Finally, the toughest nut to crack, because she had her mother’s somewhat stubborn, independent streak, was Lacey. Hank spoke to her for thirty minutes and hung up pleasantly surprised. He was relieved that Lacey was taking the threat seriously. He applauded her two-day-long effort to be ready for a possible nuclear attack.
He was disappointed by her lack of commitment to hop on a plane with her family and head for Miami, where he promised to greet them. Owen had one more day in the office, and then they’d promised Tucker a four-day vacation in the mountains. She promised to think about it and, like Peter, claimed to have a plan in case they were warned of an impending attack.
The sun was beginning to drop over the horizon when Mike and Jessica arrived. The three of them pulled cigars out of the humidor and stopped by the bar for their favorite adult beverages. This, of course, reminded Hank that cigars needed to be stocked as well. Simple pleasures during the apocalypse might help him keep his sanity. He made a note on his iPhone.
“Let’s talk about your case first,” began Hank after the trio was settled in their chairs, with their toes buried in the sand.
“Yeah, it’s a break in the case although it raises a number of questions,” began Mike. “On the most recently discovered victim, the kids retrieved a fairly new model of Omega’s dive watch line. In addition to our detectives looking through missing persons reports and trying to cross-reference the watch, we were able to make out the serial number. It was laser-etched in very small type on the back of the lug closest to the eleven o’clock position. It’s a titanium model, so cleaning off the effects of sitting under water for over a week was a little easier.
“Anyway, the serial number was connected to a New York man who’d flown into Miami on business. He and a lady companion were seen leaving a bar in Coconut Grove early that evening. His rental car was found abandoned nearby.”
“How did he get to the Keys?” asked Hank.
“We believe the woman—who was described as tall, as women go, nearly six feet—helped the guy out of the bar. The man was apparently inebriated although the bartender claimed he only had a couple of scotches. Anyway, drugs might be involved, and I’m still waiting on the toxicology report.”
“That’s something,” said Hank.
“We caught a second break. After getting the vic’s photo from family, our people began canvassing hotels, restaurants and bars in the Upper Keys. We got a hit at WaterLOO, the gay bar in Key Largo.”
“Maybe they didn’t know—” Hank said as his voice trailed off.
“He didn’t, but she, or shall I say, the other he, did.”
“Wait. What? The dead guy was picked up by a—?”
Mike interrupted his question. “Quite possibly. Yes. We might be onto something here. We have a working theory, anyway. The only issue is motive.”
“The watch is high end,” observed Hank. “Robbery doesn’t make sense. Are you thinking a crime of passion? Or just an accident gone bad?”
Mike winced as he finished a sip of his drink. “Not an accident. The next two victims, if connected, rule that out. Crime of passion is a possibility. But again, how does that connect the three killings?”
“I have a theory,” interjected Jessica.
“Whadya think?” asked Hank.
“Okay, this sounds very Netflix or Hulu-worthy, but what if our suspect is a frustrated male who is trying to find himself in an LGBTQ world. Especially the Q part. I saw a documentary once about a guy who killed gay men in Toronto a while back. He thought he was gay but tried to deny it. He apparently grew angry with himself and took it out on other gay men.”
Hank turned to Mike. “Viabl
e?”
“Absolutely. Listen, serial killers come in all shapes, sizes, and sexual orientations. To kill like this, they must have a serious screw loose. Anyway, I have our people taking the Key Largo vic’s photo around to all known LGBT hangouts in the Keys.”
“You might have to go beyond that,” added Jessica. “If he is dressing as a woman, he may be trolling all the bars. Especially the late-night ones.”
Mike finished his Jack on the rocks and hoisted himself out of his chair. “We don’t have enough people for this. I’m gonna have to ask Tallahassee for more help.”
He walked away to the bar, allowing Hank and Jessica to talk.
Hank finished his drink but kept his seat. “He’s taking this hard, isn’t he?”
“Yeah. Mike loves his job, and he’s driven to solve these murders. The break in the case helps, but it also concerns him. He didn’t mention this, but the witness who works at the Coconut Grove bar vaguely remembered the couple. The woman was described as very attractive, and the grainy image pulled from security footage bears that out. Hank, he’s looking for a person who’s capable of morphing from man to woman easily. It’s a helluva challenge.”
Hank glanced toward the bar and saw that Mike was chatting with the bartender. “Well, I have another challenge. However, this one is for you. I need you and Mike to agree to move back to Driftwood Key for a while. And I’m talking about tomorrow, if not tonight.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Tuesday, October 22
Oval Office
The White House
The White House was bustling with activity as panicked staffers raced around carrying sealed banker’s boxes with files destined for an undisclosed location. Outside the West Wing, white unmarked box trucks were lined up to accept the cargo. The vast majority of the staffers would be furloughed until further notice as the president prepared to be removed to a safer location, one whose floors, walls and ceilings were impenetrable to a nuclear blast.
