Within hours, the eighty-eight-vehicle convoy of Humvees, troop carriers and logistics support vehicles were traveling down Interstate 75 toward the rally point at Homestead Motor Speedway.
PART VI
Day nineteen, Tuesday, November 5
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Tuesday, November 5
Overseas Highway at Cross Key
Florida Keys
It was the middle of the night when Peter entered the stretch of Overseas Highway that connected the Mainland to the Upper Keys. The tiny islands upon which the two-lane divided highway was built were mostly uninhabitable except for the Manatee Bay Club approximately five miles from the point where the boys said the roadblock was set up.
Peter knew the location well. An access road had been built on both sides of U.S. 1 leading to Gilbert’s Resort, a small hotel and tiki bar known for being home to a number of racing catamarans. The access road looped under the highway, so any cars denied access could be directed back toward Homestead.
At this hour, he assumed the road would be desolate. He was wrong. In addition to abandoned vehicles, there were pedestrians walking in both directions. Occasionally, a vehicle would force its way through the throngs of people.
Conversations were had across the concrete divider as those who wanted access to the Keys quizzed those leaving about the requirements to get in. Many tried to develop stories to con their way past the many armed guards who stood vigil at the entrance.
Friend of a friend. Long-lost family member. Dual residency. Been off to college. Lost my license. Identity theft.
The list of excuses for not being able to show photo identification was long. Peter wasn’t sure how he was going to overcome the deficiency. He simply hoped a familiar face would be present. Or, at the very least, someone who knew the Albright family well enough to confirm his story.
He joined a pack of refugees shuffling past the aqueduct’s pump station. Fresh water was pumped to the Florida Keys through a series of aqueducts connected to a one-hundred-thirty-mile-long water main. It was the only source of fresh water and was used by the Albright family to fill its own water tower on Driftwood Key. Now, with the power grid down, the pump station wasn’t working, causing survival in the Keys to be even more improbable for most people.
He walked another thousand feet until Barnes Sound was on his left. Because of the darkness, he couldn’t see across the fairly large body of water toward the toll bridge. As the people in front of him began to bunch together, waiting their turn to enter the Keys, he realized he was more than a mile away. He shook his head in disbelief and prepared himself to wait hours for the opportunity to enter.
As he shuffled along with the others, he continued to eavesdrop on conversations. He was amazed at the quest for information. For many, it appeared to be more important than food and water. Misinformation seemed to run rampant as well.
Rumors of more nuclear missile strikes on U.S. soil were common. Confirmation of Mexico shutting out American refugees was confirmed by a number of people. Texas had closed off their borders to outsiders. It was believed they were still operating their power grid without a single blackout episode.
None of them seemed to be aware of the National Guard presence at the speedway. He didn’t dare ask, as he preferred not to draw attention to himself. However, when nobody made reference to it, he began to question the veracity of the teenage boys he’d spoken with.
Having witnessed the number of stalled cars on the Overseas Highway coupled with the throngs of people making their way in both directions in the middle of the night made him wonder how they’d cross the sound to begin with. And if the barricades were in place as the teens said, that bridge would be impassable without a significant amount of work by some heavy-duty Caterpillar front-end loaders.
The wave of refugees came to an abrupt halt, and they began to bunch together. Some eased down the embankment and fought along the mangrove trees to cut ahead of the others. This drew the ire of some, and hostile words were exchanged.
Peter noticed the number of refugees heading off the Keys was less, so he sat on the concrete barrier and swung a leg over to the other side, followed by the other. To avoid walking against the flow of pedestrian traffic, he opted to shuffle along the silt fence separating the soft, sandy shoulder and the riprap that prevented it from washing into the water. He was moving much faster than the other side of the road, and soon others joined him.
Pushing and shoving broke out as those who felt people like Peter were cutting in line tried to stop them. Shouts filled the air, and a couple of fistfights resulted in a near brawl next to a stranded DHL delivery van.
As daylight came, Peter pressed forward despite being shoved ever closer toward the water’s edge. He gripped his pistol and contemplated pulling it so he could defend himself. The melee, however, was on the other side of the barrier as people began to push forward, crushing those ahead of them into those standing in line.
Raised voices broke the relative silence he’d enjoyed until this point. People were scared and agitated. The shouting and fighting rose to a crescendo until a single sound quietened everyone, stifling their voices.
An explosion rocked the waters of Barnes Sound. A massive blast sent a fireball high into the air from the direction of the Monroe County Toll Bridge. The sound of concrete crumbling and the extremely heavy concrete barriers falling into the water roared across the glass-like water.
Then the hundreds of people surrounding Peter reacted. As if on cue, in unison, they screamed at the top of their lungs. Voices shouted out warnings.
“They’re bombing us!”
“It’s the Air Force!”
“There’s gonna be a tidal wave!”
“Run!”
A panicked stampede was headed Peter’s way. Some people from the right side of the road jumped the barrier and began to flee the Keys. Those who were already shuffling their way to the mainland ran for their lives.
He was at risk of being trampled, so he stepped over the silt fencing and found a gap in a guardrail that marked the last thousand feet before the access road entrance came into view.
Peter didn’t know what had happened, and he doubted anybody’s air force had bombed the bridge or the pedestrians on it. He did see an opportunity to use the chaos as a way of getting to the front of the line. He considered it to be his best opportunity to get onto Key Largo.
Or die trying.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Tuesday, November 5
Mount Weather Emergency Operations Center
Northern Virginia
It was during the predawn hours of November 5 when the president assembled his military leaders. His day was filled with meetings and included his first encounter with the outside world since the nuclear attacks. Marine One, the presidential helicopter, was going to take him on a tour of Washington, DC, followed by a flyover of Philadelphia. He wanted to end his day on a positive note.
The president’s first meeting was with Chandler and his military leaders about the progress they were making toward his goal of establishing a new center of government in Pennsylvania. In order to secure the necessary facilities to house Congress and other government agencies, residents and businesses in downtown Philadelphia had to be displaced. This resulted in pushback in the form of violent protests that distracted the military from fulfilling the president’s directives. Many lives had been lost on both sides during the unrest, creating a boondoggle for President Helton.