Authors: Bobby Akart
Telecommunications providers came under tremendous pressure to maintain complete service during any future disaster. As a result, Senator Charles Schumer of New York introduced legislation requiring telecom companies to beef up their systems and post-disaster capabilities. The companies banded together and successfully fought off the federal government mandates. Instead, they undertook to invest in more propane-fueled backup generators. They also had regional support facilities capable of erecting temporary cell towers if necessary.
All of this infrastructure upgrade was considered a positive step. However, the cellular companies did not expand their cellular traffic capacities to accommodate the potential onslaught of calls when millions of Americans sought to reach out to family or to gather information. The lines were jammed with attempts to call, which resulted in communications darkness for all.
Rhona continued. “The first messages were from Robby. He told me the plane would be grounded and to locate a safe place for Abbie. He was with Mrs. Clinton in New York for a fundraiser. The city was in utter chaos.”
“Do the messages have timestamps?” asked Abbie.
“They reflect the time they came to my phone,” replied Rhona. “I can only tell you the order in which they were sent.”
“Anything else?” asked Abbie.
“Yes, a couple of things. Your father sent a text that just read
en route
. I guess he’s on his way, Abbie.”
Drew made eye contact with Abbie, and she smiled.
So far, so good
.
Rhona continued. “I have some news from my brother, who works at Randolph Air Force Base in San Antonio. Texas still has power. The rest of the continental U. S. is dark. The informal assessment is a massive, coordinated cyber attack on the grid.”
Jonesy smiled and shook his head as he glanced at Drew.
Quiet settled into both vehicles as the occupants contemplated the magnitude of this possibility. Drew stared into the darkness and then suddenly realized it made sense.
“Have you noticed the amount of traffic headed westbound compared to the vehicles traveling in our direction?” he asked.
“You’re right, Drew,” replied Jonesy. “It’s easily ten to one. Thousands of people have received the same information Rhona just related, and they’re heading for Texas.”
“If this power outage is long term, the entire nation will migrate there,” said Abbie. “Rhona, has anyone heard from the President?”
“Robby didn’t offer any information other than the President is still in Hawaii, and they have not been affected by the outage,” she replied.
“Sir, do we continue as planned?” asked Ripley. As if on cue, a wind gust and its accompanying rain battered the Suburban. It was tempting to abandon this plan and adopt a new course for a military facility in unaffected Texas.
“Stand by, Ripley,” said Drew. He turned to Abbie and muted his comms. “Abbie, I know it’s tempting to turn around and head to Texas. It would be several hundred miles in heavier traffic. But we would be driving away from the hurricane instead of into it. At the other end, there would be any number of military facilities that could offer you protection. It is an option.”
Abbie was deep in thought for a moment. “What do you think, Drew?”
“This is an unknown world now,” replied Drew. “I do know your father is going to great lengths to travel here. He wants to protect his daughter. I don’t think we should leave him hangin’.”
“Okay. You know I will always trust your judgment. Let’s proceed.”
“Ripley, we’ll stay the course,” announced Drew. “Lake City is up ahead. We’ll take care of your passengers and then head southeast.” A Florida Highway Patrol cruiser sped past them on the entrance ramp.
“Roger that,” said Ripley. “There’s another rest area ahead. Is everybody good?”
Drew looked around and received a thumbs-up. “Proceed,” replied Drew. The rain was coming down in gusty sheets. Jonesy had the wipers operating on their fastest cycle. The vehicles crept along at roughly thirty miles an hour as Drew saw the highway sign indicating Interstate 75 was just a mile ahead. He leaned back in the seat and took a deep breath.
They were coming to a crossroads
.
Chapter 12
September 4, 2016
1:27 a.m.
I-75–I-10 Interchange
Near Lake City, Florida
As the tandem Suburbans approached the intersection of Interstate 10 and the north-south lanes of Interstate 75, one of the most traveled highways in America, their view through the soaking rain was illuminated by headlights and brake lights shining in every direction. Ripley slowed the team as they approached to get a complete view of the traffic. Drew interrupted his assessment.
“What’ve we got, Ripley?”
“Sir, it reminds me of
Malfunction Junction
in Tampa on a Friday afternoon,” he replied, adding, “during a hurricane, of course. It’s difficult to see through this freakin’ rain.” While Ripley was sure every major city had its version of
Malfunction Junction
. In Tampa, the intersection of Interstate 4 and Interstate 275 was well-known to Floridians. Every day was a traffic nightmare at Tampa’s
Malfunction Junction
.
“Traffic headed westbound has stopped as well,” observed Drew. Ripley eased over towards the shoulder to get a better look. He could make out a tractor trailer that lay on its side on the grassy medium. Two palmetto trees prevented the fifty-three-foot rig from skidding down the hill into the westbound lane.
“Look out!” exclaimed Drew into his earphone. Ripley pulled into the passing lane just in time to avoid being hit by a car speeding past them on the left.
I almost lost the other mirror
.
Playing follow the leader, he saw several other cars pull out of formation on both the right and left shoulders. Within minutes, they were blocked in on all sides as the two eastbound lanes quickly became a four-lane highway.
“Drew, I don’t like this,” said Ripley into the comms. “Traffic isn’t moving in either direction. Something is wrong.”
The winds began to pick up again, and lightning was now illuminating the sky. As the vehicles inched forward past the overturned rig, Ripley maneuvered to the inside shoulder along the guardrail. The other Suburban attempted to follow but was almost hit by a pickup that inserted itself between them.
“Come on, Jonesy, keep up,” Ripley muttered to no one in particular.
“Doesn’t matter, I’ve got you in sight,” said Jonesy.
Ripley continued to inch forward when the sound of gunfire came from ahead of them.
“Were those gunshots?” asked Rhona.
“I think so, but it’s hard to tell through the thunder,” replied Ripley. Then he heard the unmistakable loud report of a shotgun, visible with its bright muzzle flash.
“Shots fired, shots fired ahead,” screamed Ripley. He quickly looked in all directions. They were pinched against the guardrail. The only opening was behind them—where the semi had jackknifed.
Suddenly, the reverse lights on the minivan in front of them lit up before it crashed into their front bumper. Apparently panicked, other cars were now attempting to go in reverse. The van effectively pinched them into the pickup truck to their rear.
“Drew! We’re wedged in, and we’ve got shots fired ahead!” screamed Ripley.
Chapter 13
September 4, 2016
1:32 a.m.
I-75–I-10 Interchange
Near Lake City, Florida
Drew’s view was obstructed by the truck in front of them. Placing his communications unit on speaker, he replied to Ripley’s call.
“Copy,” replied Drew. “Jonesy, can you see around this truck in front of you?” Drew sat up in his seat, attempting to get a visual of Ripley and the lead vehicle.
“No, I can’t,” replied Jonesy. The blowing rain was continuous now as the feeder bands passed over more often.
“We need to get out of here,” muttered Drew as he swung his attention in all directions. The only possible exit was through the guardrail torn open by the jackknifed rig. There was no guarantee that they could get through the water-saturated median to the westbound lane, and they would still face the obstacle of another guardrail blocking their access.
It was their only option
.
“Jonesy, I don’t like this at all, but we don’t have any options here,” started Drew. He gestured as he continued. “We can still cut through the torn guardrail here and double back to the last exit. Make our way from there, right?”
“But Ripley is beyond the opening. He says he’s stuck between this pickup and another vehicle.”
“Right,” replied Drew. “We need to get ourselves through the rail first with the goal of making it through the median. Then, we have to direct traffic and get the pickup out of the way. Ripley will have the opening he needs to follow.”
“Got it,” said Jonesy. He checked his secret-service-assigned weapon—a SIG Sauer P229 chambered in .357. “You’ll take the wheel. Sir, I have to ask. What are the rules of engagement?”
“Well, it isn’t passive,” replied Drew. “Let’s make this happen and hope it doesn’t come to that. Just stay frosty oscar mike. Join them once you clear the guardrail. Double back to the last exit as our rendezvous point.”
Drew unbuckled his seatbelt and checked his weapon. “Did you copy that, Ripley?”
“Roger,” he replied. “Listen, there’s not an inch between us and the vehicles fore and aft. By the way, the gunfire has ceased.”
“Let’s go, Jonesy!” As his driver exited the vehicle into the storm, Drew immediately climbed over to the driver’s seat.
“Will this work?” Abbie asked apprehensively.
“It’s all we’ve got, Abbie,” replied Drew. “There’s something wrong up ahead, and we need to move. Please lie down on the seat with your seat belt buckled. We have protection from small-arms fire, but not from vehicles being used as battering rams.”
“Okay.”
Drew put the Suburban into reverse and eased backward to the blare of horns behind him. He turned the truck left but was unable to clear the guardrail. He backed up further, nudging the left rear bumper of the car behind him, and then abruptly moved forward through the gap.
Jonesy, standing next to the pickup truck in front of them, waved the driver back, and the pickup slid into reverse. However, the irate driver behind Drew, still laying on the horn, immediately filled the gap left by the Suburban. Ripley’s vehicle was still too far from the guardrail opening.
“This is a clusterfuck,” shouted Drew, slapping the steering wheel. He suppressed his anger as shots rang out again, but this time they were close. The windshield of the pickup truck where Jonesy stood exploded into tiny pieces of glass. Jonesy hit the ground and crawled to safety behind the other Suburban.
“My God, Drew!” exclaimed Abbey. “What’s happening? Why are people shooting?”
Drew ignored her question. “Jonesy is pinned down.” Drew couldn’t intervene to help him. He had to hold his position. His mind raced. A lightning flash helped shed light on the threat.
In the darkness, Drew could make out a group of men carrying both rifles and handguns walking toward each parked vehicle. As they approached, they would point their gun at the driver. Ripley provided more information on the threat over the open comms.
“Sir, it appears these thugs are demanding a ransom from each vehicle. Two teams are working their way down the highway, threatening vehicle occupants to turn over their valuables. The last shots fired were from a vehicle who attempted to take them out. It didn’t work.”
Drew thought for a moment. Protocol required him to extract Abbie immediately. But he didn’t want to leave his team behind.
“Jonesy, you copy?” asked Drew.
Through the wind howling, Jonesy replied, “Roger. I believe the bullet that hit this pickup was a stray. I can take out the two in the middle lane if Ripley can hit the thug on the inside shoulder.”
“I can do that,” said Ripley. “They’re approaching.”
Drew thought for a brief moment. He looked into the rearview mirror at a reticent Abbie. Decision made.
“Okay, proceed. You do understand protocol. I need to extract Captain.”
“No problem, sir, we’ve got this,” replied Jonesy.
“It’ll be our pleasure,” chimed in Ripley. “Get our next Vice President to safety while we take care of business and get these young ladies to their destination.”
“Thank you, gentlemen. Keep your comms open. It’s been a pleasure. See you at the ranch!”
Drew threw the Suburban into drive and made his way through the crape myrtle trees past the crashed semi. He listened to the communications between Jonesy and Ripley as they methodically eliminated three members of the group attacking the helpless travelers.
As Drew and Abbie’s truck reached the inside of the westbound guardrail, he heard his men shout that two more hostiles were approaching from the south. The sound of gunfire filled the speaker of the handheld unit. The members of the team were shouting instructions at each other. Clearly, there were several more hostiles. Through his side mirror, he could see a barrage of muzzle flashes in between the lightning strikes.
They’re in a firefight. Dammit!
“Drew, we have to help them—Rhona, the woman, and her little girl.”
Once again, Drew was faced with an impossible decision. His choices could mean life or death regardless of the judgment he used.
“Abbie, you’re my priority.” Drew wheeled the Suburban back onto the pavement and headed westbound away from the melee.
Chapter 14
September 4, 2016
2:11 a.m.
Wellborn, Florida
Drew slowly approached the railroad crossing in the small town of Wellborn. The streets appeared deserted. He pulled into the parking lot of Bob’s Butts BBQ and stopped. The wind was still blowing, but the rain had ceased, for the moment. The two needed to stretch their legs and regroup.
Wellborn seems safe enough
.