None of the adults in the room could argue with the teen’s logic.
“You can see the tabs I’ve placed on the map,” continued the sheriff as he directed their attention back to the wall map. “There really isn’t a need to try to cross into Texas although their wide-open country roads would make for a safer trip. If you follow U.S. 50 over to Dodge City in Kansas—”
Lacey interrupted him. “That was part of our original plan. Then we were gonna make our way toward the Florida Panhandle, avoiding any populated cities if we could.”
“Very smart,” said the sheriff. He reached onto the table and retrieved a foldable paper map from AAA. He opened it up to show them. “I’m not telling you what to do, but this is the route I would take.” He pointed out an erratic line drawn by a black marker on the map. The route went through Oklahoma, Arkansas, Louisiana, and across the Mississippi River.
Lacey took a look for a moment and then folded it up. “Thank you for this. And, um, Tucker noticed a few extra things in the back seat, like picnic baskets and, um …” She hesitated to continue since there were others in the room.
Sheriff Mobley smiled. “From time to time, in the course of our duties, we have to confiscate weapons and ammunition from criminals. We have a few that are on the destroy list, but we’ve been a little busy to do it. I thought you might be able to take them with you and discard them when you arrive in the Keys.”
Lacey smiled. “Glad to help out, Sheriff.”
“Lastly, take this with you.” He gave her a small, cloth zippered pouch. She opened it and viewed the contents.
“A two-way?”
“It’s a portable ham radio with a cigarette lighter charger and instructions. It also has our call signs and frequently monitored channels preprogrammed. You’ll have a way to communicate with others and listen for information on the emergency channels, too.”
Lacey teared up again at the sheriff’s generosity. She gave him another hug and thanked him. After a few more words of sage advice, Lacey and Tucker left the building and stood behind their truck.
“It’s so different,” said Lacey. “They did a good job of ruining it, if you know what I mean.”
“Badass,” muttered Tucker. He stepped past his mom. Ignoring her disapproving look, he headed for the passenger door.
“Wait. Where are you going?” she asked.
“I thought we were leaving?”
“We are. But you get the first shift.” She tossed the keys into the air until they struck Tucker in the chest. He fumbled to catch them before they hit the ground.
“Really?”
She nodded and smiled at her young man, who’d grown up so fast since they left Hayward.
“Yeet!” he shouted as he opened the passenger door for his mom like a gentleman. “Here you are, madam. Don’t forget to buckle up.”
“Trust me. I wish there were two buckles.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Monday, November 4
Key Largo Checkpoint
Florida Keys
“Okay, people. Listen up!” Sergeant Franklin of the Monroe County Sheriff’s Department was used to bellowing at his charges. He’d supervised many watch shifts during his career although he’d never had to deal with an undisciplined bunch of newly deputized civilians with no training. It was midmorning, and he gathered up the new deputies while his experienced crew stopped processing refugees trying to travel down Overseas Highway. The sergeant waited for everyone to calm down and give him their complete attention. Satisfied, he began.
“I’m looking for experienced divers. Anybody here fit that bill?”
Reflexively, Jimmy almost raised his hand and then caught himself. He’d been warned by everyone, especially Mike, not to engage in conversation with the deputies unless forced to. They were not his friends, Mike had warned him. They were only going to use him for things they didn’t want to do themselves.
Several of the young guys eagerly raised their arms under the assumption they’d be pulled off the ungrateful checkpoint duties, where they were verbally abused and threatened all day. As it turned out, they were right, but what they’d volunteered for was wholly unexpected.
Sergeant Franklin pulled them out of the crowd and turned them over to Jessica’s boss on the Water Emergency Team. They piled into several sheriff’s department vans that appeared to be full of SCUBA gear before traveling back toward Jewfish Creek, using the ramp leading to the water’s edge.
Jimmy regretted his decision to remain silent. He was not an adversarial person by nature and truly hated conflict of any kind. The loss of manpower at the checkpoint meant he’d have to shoulder a greater part of the load and possibly work a much longer shift that day.
In addition to the hostilities he encountered while working the checkpoint, his heart was broken by the desperation exhibited by those who were being removed from the Keys and those who were trying every ploy to get in.
On the one hand, the Keys offered the new arrivals hope of living in a more hospitable climate with the opportunities to survive through fishing or growing crops. There were many people who tried to sell themselves to the gatekeepers with offers of heirloom seeds and farming expertise.
Then there were the evictees. Travelers who came to Key West, mostly, to let their hair down and enjoy the mirage that was Margaritaville. The power grid collapsed. The hotels threw them out. Their cars ran out of gas. And now, with the entirety of their earthly belongings consisting of swimsuits, shorts, tee shirts, and flip-flops, they shivered as they were escorted out of the Keys to become someone else’s problem.
It was a display of humanity that he only thought he’d see in the movies. It disgusted him and broke his heart at the same time. However, it also reminded him how lucky he was to be a part of Driftwood Key. At first, he didn’t
