Nuclear Winter Devil Storm by Bobby Akart (read 50 shades of grey .txt) 📕

they sat against the wheels of a troop transport. They were watched from a distance by an uninterested young woman who seemed annoyed at being given the task. It gave the guys a chance to speak before they were taken away.

“Jimmy, we both know this is a load of crap, but we gotta keep our heads cool. This is obviously part of a bigger issue that’s pissed off either the governor or the president. And, knowing the governor, I doubt this is his idea. These troops came from Georgia or Alabama.”

Jimmy sighed as he continued to wiggle and pull at the flex-cuffs. His were tighter than Peter’s, perhaps because of his obvious association with the Monroe County Sheriff’s Department.

“I didn’t want any part of this,” he began to explain to Peter. Earlier, while they were outside earshot of their captors, Jimmy had brought Peter up to speed on Driftwood Key and his father. At this point, he was unaware of what had happened with Patrick the night before. “My aunt is on some kind of power trip. Maybe she thinks she’s doing the right thing by her people. I don’t know. Anyway, Mr. Hank had to offer me up to become a deputy.”

“Lindsey thinks she can form her own country? Seriously?”

“Man, I don’t know what’s in her head. I do know that some of the real deputies handpicked the temporary guys like me to watch the checkpoints. They’re really close to one another, you know. I hear talk. They’re a little too gung-ho-marine for me.”

“I get it,” added Peter. “Peon power, right?” Peon power was a term his grandfather had used years ago to refer to someone who ordinarily had little authority within government or an organization. Then, suddenly, they were elevated to a position of power and wielded it mercilessly.

“Yeah,” Jimmy responded with a shrug. “There’s been talk of gathering up all the food in the Keys and putting it in a central distribution center. Share and share alike is what I hear them say the most. There’s also been talk about the sheriff’s people getting theirs first.”

Peter shook his head in disgust. “Sounds like the way Washington operates.”

Jimmy elbowed Peter. “We’re about to have company.”

Peter whispered his instructions. “Okay. No matter what, admit to nothing. Answer questions but be evasive. You never had a gun. Got it?”

“What do I say when they ask what my job was or whatever?”

“Tell them you weren’t a real deputy. You just took the offer because they promised to give you food. They’ll understand, hopefully.”

Jimmy’s eyes darted back and forth between the men approaching them. “What are you gonna say?”

“I’m gonna tell them the truth. It’s worked so far. But listen. I may have to throw you under the bus a little. You know, to separate us. It’s the only way I can help get us out of this mess.”

Jimmy chuckled and leaned back against the massive truck tire. He bounced the back of his head a few times as he contemplated their predicament.

“Just don’t get me put in front of a firing squad,” he said half-jokingly.

One of the men growled his instructions. “All right, gentlemen, your ride’s here. On your feet!”

Two guardsmen brusquely lifted Jimmy up by grasping him under his arms. They pushed him roughly against the side of the truck, and one of the men pressed the palm of his hand into Jimmy’s chest to restrain him. With the help of a third soldier, Peter was similarly manhandled.

“Over here!” one of the guards shouted, waving his arm toward an approaching vehicle.

Refugees who continued to mill about the area began to spread apart in order for the vehicle to get through. From the front, it appeared to be a white Dodge truck with some kind of camper on the back. As it got closer, Peter recognized what it was.

“This is bullshit!” he complained loudly. “You can’t make us ride in that!”

“We can, and you will,” one of the guardsmen hissed in response.

The white truck bearing the logo of the Miami-Dade County Animal Services department slowed to a stop in front of them. The steel and white box container on the back had several lockable door handles protruding off the side. There was a compartment for each animal that needed hauling away.

In this case, the prisoners.

Jimmy began to squirm until he was forcibly restrained by two of the men.

“Listen up, gentlemen. You either cooperate or your ride will be a lot more difficult with the air vents shut. Trust me, you’re gonna want some air.”

The guard motioned to the driver, who opened up one of the compartments. The stench of dog feces permeated the air around the truck, filling Peter’s nostrils to the point he almost vomited. He resisted the urge to unleash a tirade of expletives. At this point their captors were getting a special thrill from their two high-value prisoners. Neither of whom had played any role in the destruction of the bridges or the decision to do so.

Peter looked to Jimmy and rolled his eyes. The two men accepted their fate and decided to cooperate so their punishment wasn’t made more severe. Each of the guys was shoved into a separate compartment by the soldiers, and the doors slammed behind them. The guards began to laugh, apparently taking great pleasure in slapping the side of the truck to indicate their prisoners were ready for transport.

As they drove away, Peter closed his eyes and set his jaw. He loved his country, but not when those in position of authority acted like this. The words he’d uttered minutes ago came to mind. Peon power. It had apparently become an epidemic.

Chapter Nine

Wednesday, November 6

Overseas Highway

South of Homestead, Florida

The military police were tasked with protecting the lives and property of the Army National Guard installations, both permanent and temporary. The Guard had established its operations at the Homestead-Miami Speedway in a matter of three days, but the law enforcement arm was a late arrival to the scene. The Army expected their