“Are you gonna go for it?” the talkative young man asked.
Peter looked at him and then over toward the speedway again. He pointed as he spoke. “And you think they’re here because of these roadblocks?”
“I know they are. They told everyone in town to stay away from the Overseas Highway and Card Sound Road. I think they’re gonna invade.”
Peter laughed at the thought, and when he noticed the boys weren’t laughing, he became suddenly serious. He took a deep breath, thanked them, and began jogging down the highway toward Key Largo.
Chapter Forty-One
Monday, November 4
Otero County Sheriff’s Department
La Junta, Colorado
By the time arrangements could be made for Owen’s body and the truck could be readied for their lengthy road trip to Driftwood Key, it was near dark. Lacey and Tucker decided it was safer to stay in La Junta that night and to get a fresh start in the morning. Plus, Lacey admitted to herself, she could use one more night to regain her strength.
They said their goodbyes to Dr. Brady, Dr. Forrest and virtually everyone who worked in the hospital. Dr. Brady provided them both plenty of medications to fight infection and to relieve pain. He also provided them the proper dosage of potassium iodide in case they encountered a site with nuclear fallout. Communications between cities was minimal other than ham radio chatter. The locations of where the warheads had actually been detonated were still uncertain.
Deputy Ochoa picked them up at the hospital and drove them to the sheriff’s department, where Deputy Hostetler had just arrived with their Bronco. Lacey gasped and covered her mouth when she soaked in the transformation.
“That’s badass!” said Tucker. “Very Mad Max.”
Lacey sighed at her teenage son’s excitement over the defiling of Owen’s prized toy. It was hard to approve the paint job. However, she trusted Sheriff Mobley’s judgment, and the man had proven his ability to prepare for a catastrophic event like this one.
They were escorted inside after their belongings were secured in the back of the Bronco. Everything was neatly arranged, and Tucker was the first to notice several additions to their gear. A green and brown leather rifle case was lying on the floorboard of the back seat. Stuffed behind each of the Bronco’s bucket seats were several green ammo cans. Finally, a few picnic baskets full of baked goods and Mason jars full of canned foods gave them more than a week’s worth of food.
Lacey greeted Sheriff Mobley as they walked in. He extended his hand to shake, but she wrapped her arms around him instead. The hug was well deserved.
“We can’t thank you enough for saving our lives,” she began. She made eye contact with all of the deputies, who were gathered around the front entrance to the sheriff’s department. “Had it not been for you, Owen would’ve never had a chance, and we …” Her voice trailed off as she reached out to squeeze Tucker’s hand.
“This is what we do, ma’am,” said Sheriff Mobley as he smiled and nodded at his team. “I regret that we couldn’t do more for your husband.”
Tucker stuck his hand out, and the sheriff shook it. “We’ll never forget you guys. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” said Sheriff Mobley. He took a deep breath. “Okay. You’ve decided to leave, and I understand you’re anxious. I’ll offer our hospitality one more time, just in case.”
Lacey smiled but shook her head side to side. “No, thanks. We’re ready.”
“I figured as much. We’ve added a few things to your supplies. All of your fuel tanks are topped off. My mechanic performed some calculations based upon fuel mileage for this model Bronco. With your extra gas cans, you should be able to make it twelve hundred miles before you run out completely.”
“I studied the map last night,” interjected Tucker. “That’s more than halfway. We can make it to Mississippi or possibly Alabama.”
“About that, let me show you something,” said Sheriff Mobley. He led the McDowells into the department’s communications room, where they were introduced to the 9-1-1 operator who now monitored the ham radio base set. He had a large map of the United States hung on the wall next to a map of Otero County. There were strips of Post-it notes taped at various points along a route toward Florida. Once he had their attention, he explained.
“We have reliable information to the effect that Texas has closed their borders to all outsiders,” he said.
“What? Can they do that?” asked Lacey.
“It’s hard to tell what’s truth and what’s fiction right now. Accurate information is a precious commodity. Speculation and conjecture are plentiful. I do know this, though. The Texas electrical grid, operated by ERCOT, their utility, is separate from the rest of America’s. Here in Colorado, we’re part of the Western Interconnection, and those utilities east of the Mississippi River are part of the Eastern Interconnection.
“The nukes caused blackouts around the country. Eventually, the entire grid failed as the system got overloaded. Texas wasn’t affected because their grid isn’t connected to the Western and Eastern.”
“So they have power, and nobody else does?” asked Tucker.
“Well, that’s the rumor via our ham radio network. There are parts of the Texas Panhandle, you know, near Amarillo and Lubbock, that were affected by the same EMP that hit us. Otherwise, the state’s power wasn’t shut down.”
“Who closed their border? The president?”
Sheriff Mobley sighed as he hitched up his utility belt. “Supposedly, the Texas governor did it. They convened an emergency session of the legislature and declared a statewide crisis to be in effect. They’re not letting any nonresidents in.”
“Wow, that’s so trash,” said Tucker as he traced his fingers
