by Bobby Akart
Trepidation turned to elation as the dock came into view right where it should be. Her dad’s boat along with Jessica’s WET team vessel were tied off to the cleats.
“We did it, Mom! I knew we could!”
Lacey got emotional as she approached Driftwood Key. Thoughts of Owen filled her head. They should’ve made it together as a family. A freak winter storm event had taken his life, just as a devilish hurricane had tried to take theirs. She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, speaking to her husband as if he were by her side. She told him how much she loved him and how much he would be missed.
She thought of his cremated remains secured in a thick, tightly sealed equivalent of a Ziploc baggie. During the shooting at the dock in Bay St. Louis, Lacey had made sure her small duffel with his remains made it on board the boat. She was glad she’d had the forethought to secure it away in the galley so Owen’s remains wouldn’t be disturbed. She’d find a special place to bury him on Driftwood Key, a place Owen had loved as much as he’d loved her family.
“Mom! Is that Sonny?”
“It is!” Lacey began to press the button on the helm to sound the air horn. She pressed it several times so that long, drawn-out blasts filled the quiet, still morning.
Tucker rushed out of the wheelhouse and made his way to the bow. He gripped the railing and waved his arm back and forth in a long arc. He and Sonny had always gotten along when the McDowell family came to visit. Growing up, Tucker had enjoyed learning about the greenhouses and the hydroponics operation in addition to the nonstop frolicking on the beach.
“Mr. Hank! Mr. Hank!” Sonny turned away from the shore and began running in the direction of the bungalows.
Lacey had slowed to an idle, and her wake began to push her towards the shoreline. She glanced over at the dock to check the waterline. It gave her an idea of whether the tide was low or high. Based upon her recollection of the shallow nature of the waters around Driftwood Key, she figured she was close enough to shore since it appeared to be low tide.
“Stand clear, Tucker!” she shouted through the side window of the wheelhouse. “I’m dropping anchor!”
Tucker stood back but remained on the foredeck, staring toward the shore. He waited to see his grandfather arrive to greet them. For an eternity, nobody else appeared on shore.
Mike eased across the bridge, eventually pulling the Suburban just short of the center point. He could make out traces of blood on the bridge, which immediately set off alarms in his mind. He reached for the holster sitting on the passenger seat and removed the .40-caliber Smith & Wesson handgun.
With the weapon swinging back and forth in search of a target, Mike slowly walked to the spot on the bridge where he’d noticed the blood. He dropped to a knee and felt the moist, sticky substance, which had begun to soak into the crushed shells.
He dared not call out for fear he might alert gunmen on Driftwood Key. The moist blood coupled with the unmanned gate concerned him. For whatever reason, they’d abandoned the only point of entry from land. Had a boat approached from the Gulf, forcing them to defend the dock? Then what about the blood? Whom did it belong to?
Mike didn’t waste any more time. He ran back to the Suburban and gently closed the driver’s door after retrieving the keys from the ignition. Then he locked it so that no one could steal the weapons or many thousands of rounds of ammunition he’d procured from the armory and the seizure lockers.
He made his way along the gate, using the strength of his arms to assist in climbing around the outside until he was within the compound. His wounds screamed at him, but he put all of that out of his mind as he focused on protecting his family.
Mike started running toward the main house but skidded to a stop as he heard someone shout his brother’s name.
Just as the anchor dropped into the water and Lacey put the boat in reverse to set it in the sand, several more people began running toward the dock.
The entourage was led by Hank and Sonny rushing toward them from the driveway. Jessica and Phoebe came from a different angle near the main house. Finally, Peter ambled along, moving somewhat like a pegleg pirate but keeping pace as he brought up the rear.
After shutting off Big Cam, Lacey ran out of the wheelhouse to join Tucker. Tears of joy streamed down their faces as they stood on the bow, waving to their family. Everyone called out one another’s names until Hank, Sonny, and Jessica ran into the water and began wading as fast as possible toward the Cymopoleia.
Without saying a word, Lacey and Tucker looked at one another. They climbed over the railing at the bow, grabbed each other’s hands, and jumped together into the waters off Driftwood Key.
Chapter Fifty-One
Saturday, November 9
Driftwood Key
Everyone was sobbing as they hugged one another. Tears mixed with salt water soaked their bodies. Even Peter dragged his battered body into the water to hold his sister in an embrace they’d never shared with this level of emotional intensity. He’d been on the road like she had. He assumed she’d seen the devastation and depraved acts man could inflict upon his fellow man. He knew in his gut that something had happened to Owen and that she would bring herself to say it when she could gather the strength to do so.
The excitement of their reunion was muted by the absence of Owen and Jimmy. Lacey sobbed as she explained to everyone how Owen had died. She had difficulty catching her breath at times, so Tucker tried to explain in more detail. So much had happened to them en route from California. Lacey and Tucker weren’t sure they could remember it all.
Peter explained to his sister about Jimmy’s disappearance. The group had planned on starting a search for Jimmy, when Sonny had heard the boat arrive. Lacey immediately moved to comfort Phoebe, who broke down. For all of the joy surrounding the Albright family reuniting, in part, there was still the despair and uncertainty regarding Jimmy’s fate.
Searching for Jimmy became something they could all rally behind. Lacey and Tucker swore they had no need to sleep. Jimmy should be their priority. Peter, busted up as he was, agreed wholeheartedly. They all began walking on shore when Mike appeared at the driveway.
Lacey noticed him first. “Uncle Mike!”
The two had always been close. Mike never had children, and when Lacey was growing up, she was the little girl he’d always wanted. The two had been inseparable until Mike’s duties took him away from Driftwood Key and he married Jessica. Lacey had grown up, gone to college, and started a family. However, they still talked on the phone often and texted frequently, something Mike wasn’t a fan of but did in order to stay in contact with his niece.
It was a race up the beach, as Lacey got a head start, but the speedy Jessica quickly caught up. The two women joked as they playfully swatted at one another in their efforts to reach Mike first.
“He’s my favorite uncle!” shouted Lacey in a childlike manner.
“He’s your only uncle. He’s my husband!”
“Big deal! I’ve known him longer.” Lacey argued.
The two of them arrived at the same time. Mike had shoved his weapon into the waistband of his jeans and held up his arms to slow down the two charging women.
“Hold up, you two! Don’t forget. Knife wound.” He took a step back and gently tapped his heart with the palm of his hand.
Lacey stopped abruptly and scowled. “Knife wound? Jess said you were in the hospital. She didn’t say anything about a knife wound.”
“Long story,” said Mike with a smile. Now that the two were not moving at a pace capable of knocking him over, he opened his arms wide to hug the two most important women in his life.
“They released you early,” said Jessica as she buried her face between his neck and his shoulder.
“Yeah, long story. Speaking of long story, look at you, Lacey. You guys made it. That’s amazing.” Mike had more to say, but he stopped as he looked past the women toward the group walking toward them. He craned his neck and searched the rest of the beach. “Um, where’s Owe
n?”
Lacey looked into her uncle’s eyes and broke down crying again. All she could do was shake her head and bury her face against Mike’s chest. He gave them both a bear hug without speaking. There would be plenty of time to get caught up later.
Tucker joined the hugfest, and Mike pulled him close to his mom. The two locked eyes. Mike studied the young man. It had been more than a year since he’d seen Tucker. He was no longer a girl-crazy teenager who was more beach boy than young adult. That had changed. Mike could see it in his eyes. Tucker was hardened. Older than his years. And somewhat empty inside. He hadn’t given up on life. But it did appear he’d seen things that Mike felt sure he needed to talk about. He vowed to be Tucker’s sounding board when the time came.
“Let’s all go inside,” said Phoebe. “I know everyone is hungry, and I’m sure these two are tired of wearing the same clothes. Lacey, Tucker, I’ve had your rooms ready for you since this all started. And I can arrange for a hot shower for you. You have to make it quick, though.”
“Yeet!” shouted Tucker, one of the few times he’d been able to genuinely show his excitement. He rushed to his grandfather’s side, and the two of them walked with their arms wrapped around one another’s waist toward the main house. Tucker explained to Hank what he’d observed in the last hours of their trip home. The number of Coast Guard ships caught Hank’s attention, and he told Tucker to discuss this in more detail with Jessica.
Meanwhile, Jessica and Lacey tore themselves away from Mike and began marching toward the house arm in arm. “You’ve lost weight, girl,” said Jessica as she examined Lacey’s frame.
“Yeah, um, we didn’t always have much to eat. How are you guys doing? Can you still grow things in the greenhouses?”
“Yep. Hydroponics, too. Fish are still available although we have to go farther out. Jimmy knows all the best spots.”
“We gotta find him, Jess. I can see it in Phoebe’s eyes. She’s suppressing her feelings, and that’s not good.”
Jessica nodded. She leaned into Lacey and whispered, “Peter’s trying to remain positive, but I know those waters. It would be near impossible for him to tread water for this long. He’s a great swimmer, but I think we would’ve heard something by now. You know?”
Lacey sighed and rolled her neck around her shoulders. She was exhausted, but she didn’t want to be the reason the group didn’t start their search.
“Listen. A hot shower and some of Phoebe’s cooking and we’ll be good to go. But I guarantee we crash hard tonight.”
Jessica squeezed Lacey again. “I’m so glad you and Tucker made it. Owen is very proud of you. I promise.”
Lacey looked toward the sand and then up into the gray skies. “Yeah, I know.”
Chapter Fifty-Two
Saturday, November 9
Driftwood Key
An hour later, the group had gathered in the dining room, where the chairs around the table were full except for Jimmy’s to the left of Sonny, and Owen’s, which was symbolically placed between Lacey and Tucker. They said a prayer before devouring a large stockpot of conch chowder doused with Cholula hot sauce and sprinkled with crushed saltine crackers. The group chatted away, allowing Lacey and Peter to alternate telling the stories of what they’d experienced along the way.
To their credit, the brother and sister avoided the details of their brushes with death. Peter managed to make lighthearted jokes about the father and son who’d fleeced so many people to give them a ride to Florida. He never detailed how they died, simply saying Mr. Uber had been put out of business.
Lacey talked about the positive aspects of their time in Otero County, Colorado, where Owen had met his demise. They were so appreciative of how Sheriff Mobley, his deputies, and everyone at the hospital had treated them. The sheriff had been representative of the town as a whole, who came together to make Lacey and Tucker feel welcome.
Hank, Mike and Jessica expressed their concerns that Lindsey’s approach to governance was completely opposite that of Sheriff Mobley. Rather than helping strangers in their time of need, she elected to kick them while they were down. Hank justified closing the inn well in advance of the attacks based upon Peter’s hunch that trouble was brewing. At least, Hank said, his guests were able to get to their homes before the bombs dropped on American soil.
While the others talked among themselves, Hank’s mind wandered to the day Erin Bergmann had left. Of all the guests of the Driftwood Key Inn during that period of uncertainty, she was the one person Hank wished had remained behind.
His mind wandered to recall their time together. He’d enjoyed walking along the beach with her in the morning, something he’d never done with another woman besides his wife before she died. It had been their serious conversation sitting on the trunk of a palm tree about the prospects of nuclear war and the aftermath, nuclear winter, that had led Hank to the difficult decision to empty the rooms at the inn. It had also prodded him to take so many steps to prepare for the climate disaster that had been unfolding for weeks.
In many ways, Erin had had a profound impact on his life. He’d learned he could find love again and that there was a partner out there who could provide him the strength to survive.
Hank rolled a piece of conch around in his soup bowl as he thought about that last day together. The fishing trip that had almost landed a trophy fish that would provide a lifetime of stories. The sudden appearance of the Coast Guard boat that had whisked her away to Washington.
Hank caught himself as his daydream of Erin became a little too real. He thought he could hear the steady beating of helicopter rotors offshore. He hadn’t seen or heard any kind of aircraft since the bombs dropped. He assumed there must’ve been some type of no-fly order in place around the country.
He dropped his spoon and pushed away from the table, where the rest of his family continued to chat about the new arrivals’ experiences outside the Keys. He slowly walked toward the windows of the dining room, which overlooked the beach and the grassy lawn that was slowly turning brown.
“Everyone! There’s a chopper swooping toward the house.”
Jessica leapt out of her chair first and joined Hank’s side. She pressed her face against the glass and cupped her hands so she could see with less glare.
“Coast Guard.”
“Is it Jimmy?” asked a hopeful Phoebe.
“Maybe,” replied Hank.
“Tucker and I saw a whole fleet of Coast Guard ships heading down the Keys,” said Lacey.
“What do we do?” asked Tucker.
Jess turned to Mike. “Weapons?”
Mike grimaced and shook his head. “Jeez, we might win this battle but not the next one. We need to see what they want.”
“I’ll do it,” said Hank as he adjusted his clothes and stood a little taller. “Everyone, please stay inside.”
He walked with some hesitancy toward the front door and let himself out. He pulled the door shut behind him and walked onto the porch. He stood there for a moment with his hand shoved into his pants pockets not unlike any other day before the bombs dropped when he’d greeted arriving guests. Only this time, these guests were unwelcome and had arrived in a most unconventional way.
Hank remained on the porch as the chopper set down. The powerful rotors of the Airbus MH-65 whipped the grounds into a frenzy, sending fallen debris from the hurricane back in all directions while dislodging any palm fronds that had begun to die.
The side door of the helicopter opened, and nothing happened for nearly thirty seconds. Hank had seen too many movies, some of which had been shot on Seven Mile Bridge, like Mission Impossible III. He took a deep breath and steadied his nerves, fully expecting a gatling gun or a portable rocket launcher to emerge to put him out of business, using Peter’s way of describing the death of Mr. Uber.
Instead, a woman stepped out of the helicopter onto the sand with a large duffel bag slung over her shoulder. Seconds later, the door was pulled shut, and the pilot lifted the chopper into the air. It
took off in a rush toward the Gulf, leaving the woman alone on the sand.
Hank glanced toward the dining room window, where several faces were pressed against the glass, watching the scene unfold. He made eye contact with Mike and shrugged. Confident the threat posed by the person on the beach was not as great as a rocket-propelled projectile fired at his chest, Hank went down the steps and began walking toward her.
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.
Chapter Fifty-Three
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.
