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 along the thirty-eight hundred miles making up Texas’s perimeter. “But think about it. Everybody would want to move to Texas if they didn’t close their borders. Right?”
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?”