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

fire. The once-bustling fishing village had become somewhat of a ghost town, and only a few curiosity seekers hustled to the water’s edge to view the new arrival.

After the boat passed the Spongeorama Sponge Factory on the south side of the river, Andino made a wide sweeping left turn to point the boat toward a large building with another fishing boat of a similar size parked inside. The corrugated steel building had survived hurricanes and years of corrosion. The galvanized steel panels that were the oldest were a dark rust color. Those that had been replaced in recent years due to wear and tear or hurricane-force winds were a grayish silver.

“Here we are,” he said as he pulled the throttle back and began to slowly drift toward the dock. Suddenly, three young men came rushing into the building through an opening in the chain-link fence surrounding their sponging operation. Like Andino, the young teens were stocky with jet-black hair. A couple sported a hint of a mustache as they grew into men. Their appearance was the total opposite of the tall, athletic Tucker, who looked more surfer dude than Greek fisherman.

“They’re my cousins,” Katerina said as a smile broke out across her face. Being home from their own perilous journey and seeing familiar faces changed her demeanor substantially. She immediately sprang into action. Katerina, the meek, shy young girl, suddenly became an experienced deckhand.

Without hesitation, she ran along the port side of the fishing vessel and waved to her cousins, who stood patiently along the dock. The oldest of the three teens was prepared to place buoys to buffer the boat against the fixed dock. The other two boys waited with rubber-tipped grappling hooks to reach for the vessel’s railings or cleats to pull it flush with the dock. The group of kids expertly brought the fishing boat into position and secured it in just a few minutes.

Tucker leaned into his mother. “Grandpa would be proud of these guys, but don’t tell him. Okay?”

“Why not?” she asked.

“He’d spend the entire day teaching me the ins and outs of docking boats. I wanna hang with Jimmy and go fishing.”

“Jimmy will teach you the same thing,” said Lacey with a laugh.

“Yeah, true. The thing is, Jimmy won’t tell me a bunch of stories like the time so-and-so tried to dock at Driftwood Key or when such-and-such happened this other time.”

Lacey took the taller Tucker in a playful headlock before mussing his hair further. “Your grandpa is gonna be thrilled that you’re back. Please indulge him for a while. Besides, he’s got a lot to teach someone, especially under these circumstances.”

Andino checked the teens’ work and then returned to the McDowells. “Our homes are a short walk from here. We have three in a row, across from the docks, that have been in the family since, well, the day the first of my ancestors arrived here.”

“We don’t want to be a bother,” began Lacey. “I would appreciate it if we could fill up our water jugs.” The boat had stored water in its hold, but it had a funky taste, as Lacey put it. There were also eight five-gallon stackable water containers in the galley. The group had consumed ten gallons of fresh water en route from Bay St. Louis.

“I’ll see what my sister has in mind for dinner. While we eat and relax, we’ll talk about what is next.”

Lacey and Tucker exchanged glances. A home-cooked meal, regardless of what it consisted of, sounded like heaven at the moment.

“Lead the way,” said Lacey as she pointed toward the cube-shaped water containers. Tucker snatched them up, and they were off to the Andino family compound.

Like most of the simple, wood-framed homes interspersed with sponge packinghouses around the docks, their one-story homes were lined up in a row and were almost identical to one another. A white picket fence surrounded the three lots with a single gated entry in front of the middle home. All were white with a galvanized metal roof. The only remarkable feature that separated the three was the color of the front doors—blue, white, and blue-white striped, all intended to honor the colors of the national flag of Greece.

The center home with the blue-and-white-striped paint job belonged to Andino and his family. Katerina broke away from the group and raced up the sidewalk. She rushed onto the covered porch and opened the unlocked front door in a flash before disappearing inside.

“Do you think she’s glad to be home?” Andino asked his wife.

“The difference between me and our daughter is I’m trying to show restraint in the presence of our guests. I wanna run and jump into our bed!”

Andino wrapped his arm around his wife’s waist and pulled her tight. He planted a kiss on her cheek and whispered in her ear, “Music to my ears, erastis.”

She giggled, slapped him on the chest, and began to walk across the overgrown yard to the home next door.

“I’ll deal with you later, lover,” she said with emphasis. “Let me speak to Sophia and tell her about our new friends. It may not be much, but the family should come together for dinner.”

Seconds later, every member of the Andino family came pouring out of the adjacent houses to greet their loved ones’ return from New Orleans. Everyone was talking loudly and over one another. Some spoke Greek and others spoke English even in the same conversation. For Lacey and Tucker, it was a heartwarming reunion to watch although confusing because of the language barrier.

After the joyful reunion, the group turned to welcome Lacey and Tucker. As before, questions were flying around, and the McDowells could barely keep up with their responses. Finally, it was Andino who reminded everyone that they’d been on a long, treacherous journey and that there would be plenty of time to talk later.

It was his brother, Sandros, who made a comment that included a word that sent chills through Lacey. During the hectic conversations between the Andino families and the McDowells,