Nuclear Winter Whiteout by Bobby Akart (books for 8th graders .txt) 📕

difficult it had become after the attacks. He quickly tied off the aft line and briskly moved toward the bow to toss Hank a line. Hank, after many years of practice, expertly tied it off to a cleat.

“How’d you do?” he asked Jimmy as he repositioned one of the yacht’s bumpers to align with the rubber edge of the dock.

“I have to go farther out each day, Mr. Hank. The water is nothing like it used to be. Pockets, at depth, are cooler like always. In shallow areas, you’d think they’d be cooler, too. Between it being November and all these clouds, I’m surprised how warm it still is.”

Hank stepped on board and stood with his hands on his hips as if he could get a better understanding of the water temperatures if he was standing in his boat. Jimmy directed Hank’s attention to one of the fish holds on the aft deck. With a grin, Jimmy continued.

“However, you have to remember who you’re talking to,” he said as he opened the lid. It was full of snapper.

“You are undoubtedly the second-best fisherman on Driftwood Key,” said Hank, drawing a laugh from the young man. “Say, did you see many boats out there?”

“No, not really. A Coast Guard cutter passed me, heading north. It was pretty far offshore. I see a few pleasure boats like that one milling about. It was odd ’cause they weren’t fishing, which made me wonder why they were burnin’ up fuel.” Jimmy shrugged and went about preparing the Hatteras to close up for the night.

Hank’s mind immediately recalled the night the three men had used the Wellcraft runabout on the other side of the dock in an attempt to steal fuel out of his boat. It hadn’t ended well for the three thieves, as Mike and Jessica had turned them into fish chum. It was yet another reminder of why he wished they’d stay closer to home, but he understood their position now.

With the shoot-out over fuel fresh in his mind, Hank had a thought. “Maybe you shouldn’t go out alone? With all that’s going on, having somebody watching your back might be a good idea.”

“I thought about that today when one of the boats got a little too close. I didn’t have anything on a hook, so I slowly picked up the Mossberg. When they saw I had a gun, they took off.”

Hank decided at that point Jimmy should have someone go with him. The fact of the matter was, he lamented internally, they were short-handed, especially now that Patrick needed more of Phoebe’s and Jessica’s attention.

He sighed and mumbled, “We’ll figure it out.”

As they walked up the dock toward the main house with the snapper on a string in each hand, Jimmy brought up Patrick.

“Um, Mr. Hank.” He hesitated.

“Yeah.”

“How long is Patrick gonna stay here?”

“Why? Do you think he might be a good fishing companion? I’d have to talk with Mike about giving him a gun.”

Jimmy’s eyes grew wide, and he shook his head rapidly from side to side. “No, nothing like that. Never mind.”

“C’mon, Jimmy. What’s on your mind?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Hank. There’s something off about the guy. Mom asked me to check in on him a couple of times today. He just creeps me out, that’s all.”

Hank was curious as to why. “Did he say something that upset you?”

“No, not really. I’m just saying he was kinda clingy or something. He didn’t want me to leave. Wanted to ask questions about the inn and whether I went to college or had a girlfriend. You know. Stuff like that.”

Hank slowed his pace, as he wanted to finish the conversation before they encountered Phoebe. “Small talk?”

“I guess.”

“And you saw him twice?”

“Yes. First thing this morning and before I went fishing around noon.”

“And you said he was talkative?” asked Hank. He stopped to study Jimmy’s demeanor.

Jimmy kicked at the sand and turned over a small shell with his toe. He nervously rolled it around as he spoke. “Yeah. I mean, he’s probably bored or lonely. Also, um, a little scared, I guess?”

Hank pressed the young man. “Talkative? Both times?”

Jimmy nodded and began walking up the stairs to the porch. Hank lagged behind and glanced in the direction of bungalow three, which was nestled in the palm trees. It was slightly obscured from his view by a wall of tropical plants.

Jimmy’s description of Patrick was far different from what Hank had observed just thirty minutes ago. He furrowed his brow and shrugged as he moved deliberately into the house, deep in thought.

Chapter Twelve

Friday, November 1

Mount Weather Emergency Operations Center

Northern Virginia

President Carter Helton was invigorated following the late-night presidential address and press conference two days ago. Outpourings of support from world leaders in Russia and China for his bold initiative bolstered his confidence. While certain members of his cabinet voiced their disapproval at what they deemed to be government overreach, others agreed to do everything within their power to implement his agenda. Plus, as he told his chief of staff, it gave him the opportunity to separate the wheat from the chaff, as they say. He was now able to differentiate his true loyalists from those who might undermine his administration.

He was due to receive several updates with a full analysis on the profound impact nuclear winter had on the climate as well as the devastating effect the EMP had had on the nation’s critical infrastructure. Proposals from the DHS, Transportation, and Energy would all be submitted during the morning briefing.

However, in the back of his mind, President Helton was considering leaving the protection of Mount Weather. He believed that hiding in the protection of the nuclear bunker lent an impression that he was a weak leader. He’d held extensive discussions with military leaders about relocating the government to a military base that had been hardened against the devastating effects of the EMP.

Because Washington, DC, had been destroyed, the president, a native Pennsylvanian, was considering moving America’s capital back to Philadelphia, the seat