Nuclear Winter Armageddon Bobby Akart (ebook pc reader .txt) 📖

he located a 240-count bottle potassium iodide with a strength of 32.5 milligrams. He tried to read the dosage label. He had no idea how many to take to stave off the effects of radiation poisoning. Peter opened the bottle and swallowed four of them. This would give him a sixty-day supply.

He was about to move on to other supplements when he stopped himself. The EMP had destroyed the power grid, at least in the Mid-Atlantic states. That meant no hospitals. No doctors. No diagnostic equipment. And certainly no pharmacies dispensing potassium iodide.

“This shit’s worth its weight in gold,” he said aloud as he cleared the remaining bottles off the shelf.

He then began to add vitamins and minerals that gave him a four-month supply of everything. He’d calculated it would take him at least three months to get to the Keys if he had to walk the whole way. However, he had a plan for that, too.

Before he left, he’d consumed two bottles of electrolyte water and half a dozen energy bars. He now had two baskets full of nutritional supplements, energy bars, and protein powders. He transferred his haul into three tote bags offered for sale by the store. This concealed what he’d procured and hopefully wouldn’t encourage anyone to try to steal it from him.

After an hour in the Vitamin Shoppe perusing every item offered, he casually rolled up the grated door and slid underneath. Nobody noticed as he nonchalantly walked through the mall as if he’d been shopping on any other Saturday.

Chapter Ten

Saturday, October 26

Driftwood Key

The Albrights and the Frees had spent the day before trying to gather information via the DirecTV satellite television network and a crank NOAA weather radio made by Eton. The radio was a staple of every resident in the Florida Keys. Hurricanes were a regular occurrence, as were power outages, which was why Hank had spent an inordinate amount of time and money preparing for a sustained power outage.

The group had remained glued to the television and CNN International, the only cable news network that was broadcasting. All other programming was off the air, a direct result of their network locations in California and New York.

It had been more than twenty-four hours since the U.S. and North Korea had exchanged nuclear volleys. From all reports, North Korea no longer existed. Its government, major cities, and military installations had been reduced to rubble. The nations they’d attacked initially, Japan and South Korea, were trying to pick up the pieces.

The situation, as the CNN news anchors called it, was more dire in the U.S. and confusing. Americans were faced with millions of people who had been killed instantly at the detonation sites, as well as widespread power outages. Just as the network was about to explain the grid failure in detail, power to Driftwood Key was lost.

They were no longer able to receive any signals from local AM or FM stations. The emergency broadcast system was working, but it hadn’t been updated since the initial warnings to shelter in place due to the nuclear attack. For nine hours from Friday night into the early morning hours of Saturday, they’d lost all contact with the outside world.

Hank was physically and emotionally exhausted when he’d tried to go to bed the night before. After an hour of tossing and turning, his mind full of concern for the safety of his kids, Hank got up to walk on the beach. He heard voices and made his way to the water’s edge. The grayish, cloudy skies blocked the moonlight as well as the sun, so it was extraordinarily dark on the gulf side of Driftwood Key. He recognized the voices as being Mike and Jessica. The three of them stayed up for hours, passing a fifth of Jack Daniel’s around until Hank found his way into a hammock to pass out.

That day, he woke up because his biological clock summoned him, not because the beautiful Florida sunshine made its daily appearance. At first the dark, cloudy canopy made him think rain was on the way, but his mind and body told him otherwise.

As a lifelong resident of the Keys, Hank had the innate ability to feel weather. Years spent on the water and in a tropical environment taught him how to sense changes in atmospheric pressure, winds, and moisture in the air.

This was different. It was as if the Florida Keys were on fire and covered in a blanket of soot. The gray skies had turned to a mixture of black smoke and ashy white. The air had become thick with the toxic mix, causing Hank to begin coughing.

Without any sense of modesty, he took his morning pee at the water’s edge. It was a crude thing to do but one that made sense under the circumstances. With the power outage, water would be a precious commodity that shouldn’t be wasted on flushing toilets.

Hank found his way up the stairs toward the porch. He cocked his head to listen for the generator, surprised that it wasn’t running. Then the ceiling fans on the veranda caught his eye. They were turning like always. He shrugged, thrilled that the power was back on.

“Phoebe! Sonny! You guys around?”

“Back here!” Phoebe shouted back. He glanced into the other rooms and noticed they’d closed all the windows. Late October was usually a great time to open the main house to let the ocean breezes flow through.

“Good morning, Mr. Hank,” greeted Sonny, startling Hank somewhat. It was the first time the proprietor of the Driftwood Key Inn realized he was hungover. He rubbed his temples and cursed the Tennessee whiskey as if it were Gentleman Jack’s fault he’d consumed so much the evening before.

“Hi, Sonny. What’re you up to?” He pointed at his caretaker’s hands, which held rags and a bottle of Windex.

“Mama isn’t too happy with all the soot in the house. Look.” He showed Hank the black-streaked towels. “As soon as the power came back on, she had me scramble