“I’m sorry this happened to your friends,” she said sincerely.
“Yep, me too. It didn’t stop the sheriff, though. They’re just up the street at Publix and Winn-Dixie doing the same thing. You can keep walking that way, but I’d keep my distance if I were you.”
The man wandered off, and Erin grasped Hank’s hand to draw his attention from the carnage. “Listen, there’s nothing we can do about this. I do want to see their tactics. How far is it to these two grocery stores?”
“Winn-Dixie is right around the corner, and Publix is up the street from there.”
“Come on,” said Erin, who tugged at Hank’s hand and began to walk briskly up North Roosevelt Boulevard. The shopping district that was once filled with tourists and locals alike loading up on staples was in shambles. It had only been a few weeks since the attacks. Erin began to wonder what their surroundings would look like a few weeks from now.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Wednesday, November 13
Key West
A deputy sheriff was yelling through a bullhorn at the crowd gathered in the parking lot in front of the Winn-Dixie grocery store on North Roosevelt Boulevard. Just an hour before, they’d hit the Publix around the corner with a force twice as large as they’d used to raid the Gordon’s location the day before.
Sergeant Jorge Rivera had met with the sheriff after the boondoggle that resulted in the deaths of several members of his team. He and the sheriff agreed that a repeat of the event would turn the locals against the sheriff’s department more than they already were.
Since the start of the collapse, the mayor had made several difficult decisions that she considered to be in the best interest of her constituents while consolidating power within her inner circle.
Evicting nonresidents was considered harsh but necessary by those who were permanent residents. Even closing the bridges was praised as a way to prevent outsiders with no place to stay or no means to sustain themselves from invading the Keys. The sheriff’s plan to keep the checkpoint open for returning residents was applauded, and although it was chaotic at times, the border worked.
It was Lindsey’s paranoia over the National Guard staging in Homestead that had forced the decision to destroy the only two bridges leading onto the Keys. Her approval rating, if one had been polled, sank precipitously thereafter. Locals who prayed for their traveling family members to return to them were distraught. Those who had properties in other parts of the country, where they believed they had a better chance of survival, considered themselves prisoners with no means of leaving the Keys.
The confiscation effort, something Lindsey thought would be appreciated by starving or homeless residents, was off to a rocky start. They didn’t need another black eye, so the sheriff and Sergeant Rivera agreed to slow down the pace of their raids. Instead of trying to cover many locations quickly, they brought a larger force to overpower any resistance and to maintain crowd control.
Nearly a hundred people had gathered in front of Winn-Dixie after word of the Publix raid spread through the adjoining neighborhoods. Some came for the spectacle while others hoped a crumb would be left behind.
Dressed in full riot gear, Sergeant Rivera’s deputies formed a line to block the residents from interfering. Unlike Gordon’s, which was a locally owned and operated business, Winn-Dixie was a national concern. There weren’t any armed guards holed up inside the store, awaiting looters.
It had been a smooth operation for Sergeant Rivera’s teams thus far. Both grocery stores yielded several truckloads of household supplies and sundries, but very little food, as the corporate giants had remained open for as long as there was communication between them and the mainland. Once the power was lost and the bulk of the food products sold, the managers closed the stores and shuttered the glass storefronts to prevent looting.
Hank and Erin were about to step into the parking lot when they noticed Mike’s pickup truck approaching. It was pure chance that they were able to flag him down. He was an hour ahead of schedule, and had he passed thirty seconds later, they would’ve missed each other.
Erin moseyed into the parking lot past the Ross Dress for Less store while Hank waved Mike over. She was mesmerized by the scene, taken in by the police presence and the disheveled appearance of the onlookers. Granted, the deputies were dressed in uniforms and riot gear that obscured their features. Overall, they appeared healthy, clean shaven, and well fed.
By contrast, the locals who’d gathered to watch the raid were thin, gaunt, and unkempt. Their hair was long. Their bodies were thin. And their clothes hung on them like they were several sizes too large.
Her mind instantly went to some of the television programs she watched from time to time that were set in medieval times or even fantasy pieces like Game of Thrones. The elite and powerful stood out among their subjects. The contrast was noticeable in those fictional depictions portraying the haves and have-nots. Erin wasn’t watching a movie today. She was observing the natural consequences of economic and societal collapse in which those in power thrived while the rest of society fought over crumbs.
Mike and Hank pulled up next to Erin, who continued to walk toward the police line that formed a semicircle around the trucks being loaded by MCSO personnel. The bullhorn had fallen silent as the crowd around the deputies grew larger.
“Erin, we need to go!” Hank shouted through the window as Mike eased forward through a couple of stalled cars.
Erin ignored him as she approached a woman who was standing alone sobbing in the middle of the parking lot. Tears had soaked her face and two layers of tee shirts. She’d wrapped her arms tightly around her withering body as she stared at the deputies.
“Ma’am, are you okay?” Erin asked. Despite her soft tone of voice, the woman was startled by Erin’s sudden appearance behind her.
She turned to respond. She was emaciated. Her once tanned skin had turned wrinkly and crepey. Erin had thought the woman was in her seventies, yet her features indicated she was much younger.
“I’ve lost everything,” she said as she continued to bawl. She pointed her arm over her shoulder and waved toward the Winn-Dixie.
Erin, who thought she was referring to the grocery store raid, was genuinely confused. “Um, did you work at Winn-Dixie?”
It was difficult to make out her words as she blubbered uncontrollably. “No. They broke into my deli. It was all I had left after our house burned and my husband …”
Erin slowly approached her and held out her arms. The poor woman needed a hug; however, Erin didn’t want to frighten her unnecessarily. The two made eye contact, and the woman stepped forward to allow Erin to embrace her. Both women were crying now as they held each other for a long moment without speaking.
Hank exited the pickup while Mike turned off the engine. The men kept their distance but were vigilant as they surveilled their surroundings. The crowd continued to build, and they wanted to keep their distance from the center of activity.
Erin pulled away, extended the sleeve of her sweatshirt over her hand, and gently wiped away the tears mixed with mucus that covered the woman’s face.
“Honey, do you wanna tell me what happened?” she asked the woman, who’d calmed down somewhat following their hug.
She began to slowly shake her head from side to side as she relayed what had happened to her in the last week. “My husband and I lived a few blocks away on Seidenberg. He was a boat captain, and I ran the deli down the street. We were so happy.”
She began crying again and buried her face in her hands. Crying was personal, exposing someone’s inner emotions at a time when they were most vulnerable. Covering her face gave her a sense of privacy and a chance to maintain her dignity as the emotional pain tore through her body.