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

toward his father. He mouthed the word, but his vocal cords refused to let him speak.

Dad.

“Peter?” Hank set his rifle down and began to run toward his son. “Peter! Son! I’m here.”

Hank rushed to his son’s side and fell to his knees. He was sobbing as he frantically tried to wipe the long stringy hair off his face. He turned slightly to Sonny so he could be heard.

“Sonny! It’s Peter! Get Jess! Hurry!”

All he heard in response was some kind of hoot and holler and shouting directed toward the main house. He turned his attention back to his son.

“Here. Sit up. Are you hurt?”

Peter managed to sit up and then laughed. It was a simple act that felt good and painful at the same time. Peter whispered to his dad, who’d wrapped his arms around him, “I’ll be good as long as you don’t squeeze out my insides.”

Hank started crying again, coughing and choking as the tears flowed. “Thank you, God. Thank you for bringing home my son!”

“Hank! We’re coming!” Jessica shouted from a distance.

“Hang in there, Pete. We’ll get you fixed up. You have no idea how much I’ve worried about you.”

Peter managed a smile. “I know. I should’ve called.” Then he began choking as he caused himself to chuckle.

Hank hugged him hard again, and Peter feigned losing his breath before he forced his body to go limp. This caused his dad to panic, thinking he had in fact squeezed the life out of his boy. He released his bear hug.

“No! Peter, are you with me?”

“Yeah, Dad,” he whispered with his hoarse voice. “Just kiddin’.”

Hank touched Peter’s bearded face. “You’re a rotten kid.”

“I know,” Peter said as the tears found their way out of his dehydrated body.

Seconds later, Jessica led Sonny and Phoebe across the bridge, where another tearful reunion began. They hugged and cried before helping Peter to his feet. Phoebe promised him all kinds of hearty foods to eat; he simply needed to make his choice. Sonny raced off with her to get Peter’s room ready. After an initial assessment, Jessica was comfortable Peter would live, but he needed to be bandaged up. She rushed off to her boat to get her full first aid kit after confirming that Peter could make his way to the house, using his dad for support.

Once father and son were left alone again, Peter waited while Hank locked the gate. He ran his arm through the sling of his rifle and stood next to Peter, who draped his arm over Hank’s shoulder. They walked twenty feet or so before Peter stopped.

After gulping two bottles of water, his voice had recovered somewhat. He was capable of whispering louder without pain.

“Dad, I’ve got to tell you something.”

“What is it? Is it about Lacey?”

“Lacey’s not here?” Peter asked, his tone reflecting his surprise.

“No, son. I haven’t heard from her at all.”

Peter sighed and dropped his chin to his chest. He thought Lacey would’ve come home before the attack, as he’d suggested to her. He’d broach the subject after he had some rest.

He continued. “Dad, I was with Jimmy. It’s a long story, but he and I were trapped on the other side of U.S. 1 when they blew up the bridge. Anyway, we made our way into Blackwater Sound when we got caught in the middle of the hurricane.”

Hank welled up in tears again. “Is he, um? Son, is Jimmy …?” Hank’s voice trailed off because he couldn’t bring himself to say the word dead.

“I don’t know. We got separated. I found his WaveRunner, but he was missing. I’ve looked all day trying to find him. Nothing.”

Hank took a deep breath and glanced toward the main house. “Let’s get you cleaned up and fed. Then we’re gonna have to tell his parents. This is not good.”

Chapter Forty-Seven

Saturday, November 9

Lower Keys Medical Center

Key West

If the world wasn’t in the midst of the apocalypse, Mike would’ve thought he was arriving at the scene of any other crime. Uniformed deputies milled about, hyped up by the events they didn’t witness but could only talk about. Civilians huddled in corners, comforting one another even though they were on the second or third floors far away from the drama.

He’d been called hero more times than he could count as one person after another filed by the trauma recovery room, where he awaited a doctor’s final clearance to leave. His sutures had been torn open and continuously oozed blood throughout the ordeal. However, he was easily stitched up by one of the less frenzied nurses with a steady hand. He was thankful for that.

There was pain, but not the sharp, stinging pain he’d been warned about as a sign of trouble. After he’d been left alone, he did a self-assessment to determine if there was internal bleeding.

Weakness or numbness on the wounded side of his body? Nope.

Tingling in his extremities? Nope.

Headaches, impaired vision, or hearing? Nope, nope, and nope.

As far as Mike was concerned, he was good to go, and if he wasn’t released, he’d simply slip out the door in his street clothes.

After the shooting was over and the hospital erupted with activity, he had some time to clear his head in between visits by congratulating well-wishers. The world had gone to shit and would only get worse for years. The decision he’d reached with Jessica was confirmed by what had happened at the hospital. It was time to protect his family and Driftwood Key.

Mike came up with a plan, one that involved taking advantage of the chaos following the hurricane as well as the distraction of the MCSO at the moment. In addition, for his plan, he had another advantage. Political capital. Heroes garnered lots of political capital.

The moment he walked out the doors of the hospital, he was going straight to the sheriff’s office. He’d adopt an Action Jackson superhero crime fighter type of attitude when he arrived. He’d play the part of hero if that was what they wanted. He’d put on the cape