Martial Law by Bobby Akart Page A

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.