Even Phoebe was required to keep a weapon with her at all times. Although she mostly stayed around the main house, she did have occasion to go the greenhouses and hydroponic facilities alone. She hadn’t been formally trained, but Jessica ran her through some dry-firing exercises so she could defend herself if surprised. Most importantly, she assured Mike and Jessica that she was not afraid to pull the trigger if threatened. As they told her, don’t point a gun at someone unless you’re prepared to use it.
Jimmy was the island’s workhorse, only sleeping a few hours a day. He volunteered to handle the night shift, which he shared with his dad and Hank, who was a notorious early riser. During the day, he fished off the dock or shore, in addition to harvesting the Caribbean lobsters found in the waters off Driftwood Key.
Hank emerged onto the porch and pulled his bandana up over his face. He and Phoebe seemed to be affected the most by the smoky air that had descended upon the Keys. He subconsciously felt for the handle of his pistol that rested on his hip. It was something he did multiple times a day as he worked around the inn. Not only was it something new and unexpected as part of his daily attire, but it was also a comfort blanket of sorts. The gunshots of the night before had shocked him to his core. The collapse of America had barely begun following the nuclear attack, and armed bandits were already coming after Driftwood Key’s resources.
“Mr. Hank! Mr. Hank!” Jimmy shouted as he ran through the sand. Both hands were full of baskets containing spiny lobsters. The ever-darkening conditions had tricked the lobsters into feeding throughout the day, much to Jimmy’s delight. They were easy prey for an advanced skin diver such as himself.
Hank bounded down the front steps of the porch to greet him. His apprehension shot up a few notches. “Is everything okay?”
“There’s a boat approaching from the north. Pretty fast, too.”
Hank didn’t hesitate. He ran back inside and grabbed a hunting rifle that remained propped near the entry door.
“Phoebe! We have a boat coming this way. Keep an eye on the house.”
Jimmy met him at the top step as Hank emerged. “Do you want me to get my dad?” Daytime was the only exception to the two-man patrol arrangement. And that was only on the rare occasion when either Hank or Jimmy was unable to assist.
“No,” replied Hank as he began to descend the steps. “Stay close to the house. Let me see what the deal is, and I’ll yell for you.”
Hank walked briskly and with purpose toward the dock. After cleaning up the dead bodies and discovering they had no identification, Mike and Jessica had towed them out a mile into the Gulf and then cut them loose. Shark attacks in the Florida Keys had been nonexistent until this week. The diminished sunlight had taken away some of the sharks’ natural feeding opportunities. It was likely the three men would be nibbled at until they were unrecognizable.
As law enforcement officers, Mike and Jessica understood they’d broken numerous laws after the shooting took place. However, as they’d come to realize, the rule of law was breaking down daily. This was part of the reason the sheriff’s department had moved quickly to evacuate the island and set up the roadblocks. Soon, people would no longer obey their commands.
The sun was in his eyes, so he was unable to determine the make of the boat. He took up a position behind some sandbags Mike had filled and piled along the end of the dock closest to the Hatteras. He’d told Hank the sandbags would provide them ballistic protection the next time anyone thought about trying to steal from them.
He knelt down behind the wall of sandbags and poked his head up just enough to see the approaching boat. The driver had just throttled down to slow their approach. Hank was perplexed by the sudden appearance of the vessel, but was feeling better about their intentions. Unless they’d brought half a dozen armed gunmen, they’d be largely unprotected on the open water in broad, albeit hazy, daylight.
He rose slightly with his rifle pointed in the direction of the boat. He squinted as it approached, and then he exhaled, allowing all of the stress and tension to leave his body. It was Jessica.
She idled toward the pier on the opposite side of the Wellcraft that had been used by the thieves the night before. Mike was supposed to check with the sheriff’s office to determine if it had been reported stolen. If not, they’d keep it there until the owner was located or in case they needed it.
“Hey, Hank! Throw me a line!”
Hank set his rifle down and waited for Jessica to pull parallel to the dock. She left the steering wheel and threw two bumpers over the side to buffer the hard rubber around the dock from her boat. Seconds later, she was tied off, and Hank extended his hand to pull her up onto the dock.
“Is everything all right?” he asked. It seemed to be the question he asked of all the inhabitants of Driftwood Key. Hank seemed to expect the answer to be no, everything is not all right. He’d become a glass half-empty kind of guy lately.
“Yeah, actually. The sheriff has pulled me off eviction duty. That’s the good news. The bad news is that we’ve had a rash of pirate activity, if you wanna call it that.”
Hank smirked and shook his head. “Pirates? As in boarding boats on the high seas?”
“Well, it’s an all-inclusive term, I guess.
