“Hold on,” he said, using an ironic choice of words. Jimmy reached up with his other arm until he’d grasped the rebar. He slowly twisted his body until it was turned toward the right. “I see it.”
Peter held his breath as he watched Jimmy gently sway his body back and forth to create some momentum. With the last swing he removed his left hand and half-jumped to grasp the hook-shaped piece of rebar.
“You got it!” exclaimed Peter.
He studied Jimmy’s position. His arms were spread apart and stretched over his head. His left hand was closer to the edge of the bridge, but he also would have more rebar to use for his climb upward. He was about to give his friend his next set of instructions when the sound of truck horns and shouting filled the air.
CHAPTER SIX
Wednesday, November 6
Overseas Highway at Jewfish Creek
Florida Keys
Peter turned briefly to see what was causing the commotion. Headlights could be seen in the distance, and the low rumble of diesel engines, not unlike the truck he’d taken from North Carolina to Homestead, could be heard. He returned his attention to Jimmy.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Better now that all the weight is off one arm. What’s next?”
Peter studied the rebar. “Hold tight with your left and bring your right to the same piece. Then pull yourself up slightly. There’s another straight piece just above it.” He leaned his body over the edge and directed the light to the piece he was referring to.
Jimmy took a deep breath and strengthened his grip on the hook-shaped rebar. He pulled himself up six inches and then reached upward, slapping the side of the bridge structure in search of the straight piece. Dust and debris fell on top of his head, causing him to lose focus. His body began to sway back and forth as his left arm quivered under the strain of his body weight dangling in the air. After blindly searching for the rebar, he found it and gripped it.
“There ya go, Jimmy. Good work!”
“This piece is kinda loose,” he responded.
Peter reached his arm down toward Jimmy’s hand. They were only inches away but not close enough to get a good grip on one another. Plus, even in a prone position, Peter wouldn’t be able to support the body weight of the heavier man. Jimmy would likely pull Peter over the side, leaving them both tumbling toward the water six stories below.
“Does it wiggle?” asked Peter.
“A little, but if I tug on it, it seems to hold.”
Peter took a deep breath. His palms were sweaty, so he could only imagine what Jimmy’s were like. He put the tactical flashlight in his mouth and leaned over the edge a little bit more. He grabbed the next piece of rebar and gave it a good shake. It was solid. He inched backwards and pulled the flashlight out of his mouth. He focused the light on Jimmy’s hands.
“You’ll have to move quickly, but there’s another piece of rebar just to the left and above your right hand. You can either stretch your right arm up or, if you think you can hold on, pull up and grab it with your left hand.”
He had to give Jimmy the two options. His decision would depend on how confident he was that the loose piece of rebar would hold.
Without saying another word, Jimmy released his grip on the hook-shaped piece and kicked his legs as he tugged on the loose rebar. A second later, he had a firm grasp on the piece closest to the edge of the road. Now Peter was able to help.
He inched forward with the flashlight in his mouth. He stretched his right arm downward until his fingers could touch Jimmy’s hand. He nodded up and down to indicate to Jimmy he was ready. The light danced from Jimmy’s hands to his face, revealing the sweat pouring out of his forehead.
Showing trust in his friend, Jimmy reached up with his right arm to grab Peter by the arm. The two men clasped their fingers around each other’s forearms, and Peter began to pull upward. As he did, Jimmy reached for another protruding bent piece of rebar for support. Peter slid backwards and tugged while Jimmy got a grip on another piece.
With a grunt and a strong pull, Jimmy was brought upward to a point where he could hold on to the edge of the pavement. Peter rose to his knees and grabbed both arms. Seconds later, Jimmy was hoisted upward and fell onto Peter’s chest, knocking both of the men backwards until they collapsed on the pavement.
They both rolled over onto their backs and began coughing fits. Throughout the entire ordeal, they’d been breathing in the concrete dust and debris left lingering in the air after the explosion. That, coupled with the ash and soot that had begun to find its way into the lower latitudes, caused the guys to hack and cough as it was sucked into their lungs.
“Let’s not do that again, okay?” asked Jimmy jokingly.
Peter’s chest was heaving as he spoke. “Do you remember the tree forts we used to build when the bungalows were under construction?”
Jimmy chuckled and then coughed again. “We were, like, eight years old.”
“Yeah. My grandpa would get mad because we quit using scrap lumber and started pilfering two-by-eights out of the contractor’s stack.”
Jimmy slapped his friend in the ribs. “We had a helluva fort that one time. It had rope swings and platforms built between the palms.”
“We thought we could head to Sarasota to join the Ringling Brothers Circus. Remember?” Peter asked.
“Yeah. Then our dads ruined our dreams.”
“And whipped our asses, too.”
The guys busted out laughing as they reminisced about their days growing up together. They finally sat up and rested their elbows on their knees as they looked across the void where the Jewfish Creek Bridge once stood.
Peter rolled his head around his neck and shoulders. “We could wait ’til morning and swim across.”
Jimmy shook his head side to side. “Nope. They’ve already thought of that. They’ve stretched that razor wire stuff all along the shoreline right at the water’s edge. We’d never be able to set foot on dry land before we were shredded.”
“Geez, Jimmy. This is craziness,” said Peter as he glanced in the direction of Gilbert’s Resort, which was located just below the bridge on the mainland side of Jewfish Creek. He gestured with his right arm. “Maybe somebody down there would give us a lift. Hell, it’s just a few hundred feet.”
“They were evacuated, and the boats were moved yesterday,” countered Jimmy. “Peter, they’ve thought of everything. My aunt’s been working overtime to set this whole thing in motion.”
“Lindsey? What does she hope to achieve?”
“Create the Conch Republic, I think. There’s not been anything official announced. I think she was waiting until we were cut off from the rest of the country.”
“It’s not gonna work, Jimmy. They’ve sent a convoy of National Guard trucks full of troops to Homestead. I passed them on the road and heard they were staging at the speedway.”
Jimmy shrugged and was about to speak when they heard voices and heavy footsteps moving rapidly in their direction. As they turned, a woman raised her voice and pointed toward them.
“There! They’re part of all of this.” Several flashlights danced across the pavement until they lit up Peter and Jimmy. They suddenly fanned out until at least eight different lights washed their faces and clothing.
“What?” Peter asked, confused by what the woman was referring to. Then he caught a glimpse of the back of Jimmy’s tee-shirt. He hadn’t paid attention to it before, but now he realized why the woman made the statement. The green shirt had MCSO emblazoned across the back in gold lettering.
“And he’s one of their soldiers!” shouted another man. “See his camo?”