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

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Part IV

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

THANK YOU FOR READING NUCLEAR WINTER: DEVIL STORM!

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Epigraph

The Devil whispered in my ear, “You’re not strong enough to withstand the storm”.

Today, I whispered in the Devil’s ear, “I am the storm.”

~ Unknown

Anyone can hold the helm when the sea is calm.

~ Ancient maritime saying

Rough seas make stronger sailors. Tough times build greater people.

~ Robin Sharma, Canadian Attorney and Author

All tyranny needs is for people of good conscience to remain silent.

~ Thomas Jefferson, Founding Father

Panic is an energy thief.

~ Hank Albright

A man is not finished when he’s defeated; he’s finished when he quits.

~ President Richard M. Nixon

If you are going through Hell, keep going.

~ Winston Churchill

I think I can. I think I can.

~ The Little Engine that Could

Part I

Day twenty, Wednesday, November 6

Chapter One

Wednesday, November 6

Overseas Highway at Cross Key

Florida Keys, USA

“Hey! I’m Peter Albright. Does anybody know me?”

A crush of people trying to force their way through the barricades blocking access to the Florida Keys shoved Peter forward. A woman fell near him and was promptly trampled by the refugees trying to make their way to the front of the processing line. The scrum intensified as the low rumble of two airport baggage tractors caught the attention of the refugees, forcing them to stop their progress.

The momentary pause in the forward assault on the blockade allowed Peter to hear a lone voice in the midst of the chaotic scene.

“Peter! Peter! It’s Jimmy!”

“Jimmy?” Peter was elated that Jimmy Free, his longtime friend he’d grown up with on Driftwood Key, was standing among the guards manning the blockade. He was also surprised by his presence, as Jimmy had never worked for anyone other than Peter’s father, Hank.

“You have to hurry!” Jimmy shouted back. “They’re closing—”

Peter was unable to hear the rest of his sentence as the diesel engines of the baggage tractors began to roar from his right to left across the divided highway. The bright halogen lights used by the blockade guards blinded him as he shaded his eyes to see. A line of men dressed in dark clothing pointed their rifles menacingly toward the refugees. Thus far, none of them had pulled their triggers.

Amidst the rumble of the motors and the shouts emanating from both sides of the checkpoint, Peter could hear the sound of scraping metal along the pavement.

“All personnel, move back to the Jewfish checkpoint!” a man bellowed on a megaphone. Jewfish Creek was one of the small bodies of water that separated Key Largo from the mainland.

“They’re gonna blow the other bridge!” shouted a man to Peter’s left.

“I’m a resident! Let me in!” hollered another.

“Let’s go for it!” a third man bellowed in a deep voice.

Peter was spun sideways as several people charged ahead, crashing through the folding tables that had once been used for processing the refugees. The temporary intake center was no match for the people racing toward the concrete barriers and whatever lay beyond the massive halogen lamps that blinded them.

“Stop! We will shoot you!” warned the man with the bullhorn.

He failed to dissuade the crowd, who quickened their pace toward the row of generator-operated lighting. The first of the men leading the pack had approached the lights when the commanding officer of the blockade gave the order.

“Fire!”

Quick, staccato bursts of gunfire rang out. Peter could hear the bullets whiz over his head just before the crowd erupted in panic. The mass of people forcing their way through the barricades suddenly stopped and reversed course. Peter was caught between those fleeing and the momentum of the others who continued to push forward.

“Don’t run! They’re just warning shots!” yelled one of the men who’d encouraged the group to charge the checkpoint.

“He’s right. They’re not gonna shoot us!”

Peter had learned on the road that the old adage shoot first and ask questions later was rule number one of survival in a post-apocalyptic world. He wasn’t so sure the second round of gunfire would miss its mark.

The baggage tractors were shut off, reducing the noise level at the checkpoint. Peter, following two large men who cautiously approached the halogen lights, covered his eyes in an attempt to see beyond the temporary lighting equipment. He shouted for his friend again.

“Jimmy! What do I do?”

He didn’t respond.

“Fire!” the man with the bullhorn ordered his men. The automatic weapons sent another short burst of bullets whizzing by, causing everyone at the front of the advance to drop to the ground. Shrieks and screams filled the air as those refugees behind Peter ducked for cover or began running the other way. Then another order was given. “Fall back!”

Jimmy took advantage of the momentary cessation of order-giving. “Peter! Now! You have to hurry!”

Peter, along with a dozen others, began to run toward the halogen lights. They were blinded by the multiple sixteen-hundred-watt portable light towers as they straddled the concrete barriers. Without regard to the flash blindness that overwhelmed their retinas, they pushed forward, and once in the open, they sprinted toward the darkness on the other side.

He allowed the others to lead the way, as he was still concerned about being shot. He kept his pistol in its holster, as he knew he was no match for the weaponry used by the guards.

The mob broke through the sawhorse barriers stretched between the portable lighting. Peter’s hopes were lifted when he didn’t hear any more gunfire. Maybe he could make it across the bridge before it was destroyed like the one north of him at Card Sound Road.

And then the most painful, bloodcurdling screams he’d ever heard filled the air in front of him.

Chapter Two

Wednesday, November 6

Overseas Highway at Cross Key

Florida Keys

One by one, those charging to the front were greeted with two rolls of concertina