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  Jake quickly turned his head to look away from Joe. He had to hide the smirk which spontaneously appeared on his face. These people envisioned some utopia in which everyone works for the common good, allowing a select few elites to make their decisions for them.

  This might work for a while but eventually, some would begin to disagree with the elites, in this case the executive committee, on how things should be run. That’s when utopia, or the so-called village, destroys itself from within.

  Chapter 27

  Fruitvale West

  Saratoga, California

  “Are you kiddin’ me?” asked Ashby as the Van Halen’s pulled away leaving the two of them alone in front of the Spanish-inspired basement rancher. A large courtyard featured massive sandstone tiles surrounded by a half-wall enclosure. The landscape had been meticulously maintained by a crew hired year-round. There were no curtains in the entire front of the house which was covered with wood-framed sliding glass doors. In the moderate Northern California climate, it was customary to let the outside in, as they say, by opening up all the doors and windows. The serene, tree-covered one-acre lot was ideally suited for that.

  “Welcome home,” said Jake jokingly. “You like?”

  “Duh, who wouldn’t?” Ashby walked toward the front entrance. A single, small window pane in the arched doors adjacent to the door handle had been broken out and replaced with a piece of cardboard secured by duct tape, evidencing the HOA’s forced entry. Stale air greeted them as they entered as apparently the HVAC system had been turned off.

  “Let’s open up some doors,” said Jake. He motioned to Ashby who assisted in unlatching the three sets of sliding doors which faced the courtyard and opened them. A slight breeze helped force fresh air inside, instantly filling the room. Jake reached for her hand and led her back into the courtyard. He leaned over and whispered into her ear. “Ashby, I don’t trust anything about this. Let’s be careful what we say until we know we’re not being monitored. This whole situation is screwed up.”

  She gave him a concerned look and nodded. “Okay.”

  Jake led her back inside and took her around the house. The property consisted of a main residence including four bedrooms, four bathrooms, and an office. The lower level, a below ground basement, held a large recreation room with a bar. Additional buildings include a three-car garage and a guest cottage which was the original carriage house for the Charles D. Blaney estate built in the early twentieth century.

  Blaney was a civic-minded philanthropist who invested in railroads, public utilities, and real estate. His estate encompassed most of Saratoga and all of what is now Fruitvale West.

  Jake led Ashby into the backyard where there was lush landscaping, several quaint sitting areas, a bocce ball court, and walking trails connecting their property to the Blaney Estate.

  “I have to say,” Ashby began. “It’s hard for me to see you living here. This is an incredible home and you’re so down-to-earth. I mean, when we met, you were happy in a two-hundred-year old cabin which was smaller than your parents’ garage.”

  Jake laughed and took her by the hand as they walked along a trail bordering a neighbor’s home. “Maybe I rebelled against all of this. It is comforting to be back, if for no other reason that it is all familiar to me. I don’t care about the size and the stuff. It’s all about security and peace of mind for us both.”

  Ashby stopped him and cautiously looked around. “Yet, you’re still uneasy.”

  “I don’t know what it is. I wish I could put my finger on it. Listen, we’ve both worked for the government for years. We understand what that’s like. But, this is different. It’s more George Orwell and Big Brother than it is neighbors helping neighbors.”

  Ashby shrugged and smiled. “I agree, but I do give them credit for moving quickly to establish some type of order. Now, if I lived here and spent money over the years to stockpile food and supplies in case of a catastrophe, I’d be pissed that they knocked on the door one day and said, fork it over. I’d probably shoot them first.”

  “I have no doubt,” said Jake with a chuckle, which earned him a playful slug. Ashby continued.

  “Here’s what I suggest. Let’s confine any conversations between us concerning what’s happening with these people to places like this, not inside. At least until we can sweep the house for bugs, or hidden cameras, or people hiding in the walls peering through peepholes.”

  Jake ran his fingers through his hair. “Oh, thanks for reminding me. We need to see if they found my father’s gun cabinet.”

  “I didn’t see one. Is it hidden in the wall like at the Mad House?”

  Jake took her by the hand and they walked briskly back to the house. Once inside, he led her down into the basement where she was amazed at its size and the games it contained. In addition to a large pool table in the center of the room, the walls were surrounded with vintage pinball and video games. There was a Pac-Man table, a Bally slot machine, and several pinball machines.

  Ashby went straight for the bar and began opening up cabinets. “I see the neighbors cleaned out the liquor cabinet. So rude.”

  “Trust me, it was well stocked, too. I’m sure they’ll allocate a bottle of wine with our first delivery of provisions as a welcoming gesture.”

  Ashby lifted her head up above the bar and rolled her eyes. Jake began to pull the pool balls out of the pockets to play a game when he clumsily dropped one to the tile floor. It bumped off the inside of his shoe and slowly rolled under the table.

  “Crap!” he exclaimed as he dropped to the floor and rolled on to his back. He slowly pushed himself under the table to retrieve the ball. Jake reached up for a moment, and then muttered. “There you are.”

  “Did you find it?” asked Ashby, thinking he was referring to the wayward pool ball.

  “I sure did,” Jake replied. “Now, we’re ready to play.”

  Jake and Ashby got settled in and just before dark, a loud knock interrupted their quiet evening. It was two men who worked at the club who’d arrived to deliver their belongings. In addition to the duffle bags of clothing and linens, they were allocated several boxes of food which ranged from dry goods to canned vegetables. Nothing was refrigerated.

  Before they left, Jake asked, “What about ammo for our sidearms? We need nine-millimeter and .45 cal.”

  “You’ll have to take that up with Ken,” came the curt response.

  Jake scowled as the unfriendly men left. He turned to Ashby and was about to speak when she raised a finger to her lips, reminding him to be mindful of what he said.

  “They really fixed us up, Jake. We’ve got canned Deviled Ham, powdered mashed potatoes, and pears in syrup. Plus, Dusty would be thrilled with these Cheetos.”

  “Really? That’s all we got. What about wine?”

  “Nope, no alcohol. We did get this container of powdered Tang. It’s orange, like the Cheetos.”

  Jake knew she was being sarcastic and he immediately let the anger build up inside of him. He took a deep breath and exhaled. The two of them had been there for twelve hours and he was already plotting his exit strategy. But, to where?

  Chapter 28

  Fruitvale West

  Saratoga, California

  That night, Jake snuck out around three in the morning and made his way to Fellowship Plaza. After confirming that his father’s weapon stash was still in place, his highest priority was the cash and gold. His father had more hidden compartments in the house. Jake was sure of it, although his parents never disclosed them to Jake.

  He’d found the pool table gun vault be accident one day when he was playing as a teen. He’d chased a pool ball underneath and clumsily raised his head up, hitting a false bottom installed in the table. After some exploration, he found a finger hole which allowed him to flip a hidden latch.

  Inside, hanging upside down but secured with Velcro straps, were half a dozen hand guns and the prized possessions, three fully automatic AR-10 battle rifles chambered in .308. He’d need more
ammo than the single ammo can of Remington Core-Lokt which he stashed in the nearby park. He was already making a mental shopping list and the .308 was added to it.

  Jake’s father had a conspiratorial nature about him. It started when he became intrigued in the early seventies with the theory that computers were capable of predicting world events. Researchers at MIT developed a program called World One then teamed up with the creators of Australia’s largest computer to experiment with computer algorithms and search results. The World One program had accurately predicted trends in pollution levels, population growth, and diminished natural resources.

  As a result, his father took certain steps with an eye toward the future. When they built this house adjacent to the Blaney estate, his father was very hands on during the construction process. Jake was convinced there were hidden compartments in the home, but he had to make sure he wasn’t being watched before he started his exploration.

  Patience, he continuously reminded himself, as he made his first trip beyond the wall of Fruitvale West that night. It took him much longer than anticipated to retrieve their gold and cash, but he was admittedly overcautious. He needed to get a lay of the land and become fully aware of their security processes before he risked another trip. That would begin tomorrow when he reported to Ken Kennedy, chief of security, for his first assignment.

  He and Ashby were having a quiet, mundane breakfast of dry cereal topped with water when a NEV approached the courtyard where they were eating. A perky woman hopped out of the vehicle and immediately identified herself as Stefanie Kennedy, Ken’s wife.

  After they introduced themselves, she stated her business. “Paulette asked me to invite you both to the HOA morning update meeting on the tennis courts at the Swimming Club. It’s been part of our everyday routine since, well you know, all of this began. It’s an opportunity for residents to hear any news and to ask questions in an open forum.”

  “Okay, we’ll be there,” said Ashby.

  “Also, Ashby, afterwards I hoped you and I could talk. Here in the community, I’m tasked with allocating medications to everyone. They are in short supply, so we deliver them daily to those who are in the greatest need. I can explain more about that later.”

  “Well, okay,” Ashby said hesitantly. She’d hoped for a job handling food supplies where she could get a feel for how well the community was stocked. She asked, “Will we be working at the club like the others?”

  “Sometimes. Usually once a week when we gather our allocations and make determinations on whether anyone’s medications need to be modified or terminated.”

  Ashby appeared confused. “How does that work? Do you have a doctor who examines the patients?”

  “That’s part of our job,” replied Stephanie. “We are the caretakers of many elderly persons in the community. Some are not doing so well on their limited food rations. If we think they’re prognosis has deteriorated substantially, then we report it to the community physician who may or may not make the decision to remove them from the medication allotment.”

  Ashby pushed away her bowl of tasteless cereal. “They take away their meds?”

  Stephanie shrugged and smiled. “Now, that sounds rather harsh, doesn’t it? When you have limited resources, you have to allocate them to those who have the best opportunity to benefit from them. Sadly, a relatively terminally ill person might be taking medications from someone who has a longer lifespan.”

  “You have a doctor that makes that decision?” Ashby’s body was tensing up.

  “We advise the physician. He makes a determination and then suggests a course of action to the executive committee who votes on the matter. It’s all very democratic.”

  “Does the elderly person have a vote?” Jake asked, anticipating that Ashby was ready to fire that question off next.

  “Well, of course, they get to plead their case to the doctor. We’ve only had to make this decision twice so far. Both cases were insulin related.”

  “You took away their insulin?” asked Ashby.

  “Yes, and we promptly delivered the residents to a nearby hospital for appropriate care. We don’t leave them to die. We’re not monsters.”

  Ashby nodded her head up and down. She took a deep breath. “I’d be glad to help. Let’s touch base after the meeting and discuss it further.”

  Stephanie gave them a playful, Stepford Wives wave goodbye and scooted off in her NEV. Before she left the long, gravel driveway, Ashby swung around to Jake.

  “They are monsters. They’re all deranged, power-hungry despots who think they can play God with people’s lives.”

  Jake patted her hand, urging her to relax. He looked at his watch. It was nine-thirty.

  “Why don’t we put away our dishes, and head over there a little early. We’ll talk about it on the way.”

  “But, —.”

  “And,” Jake stretched out the word while he made a face to remind Ashby they might be monitored. “I haven’t checked out the garage yet to see if dear old Dad left any wheels behind.”

  “Ashby folded her arms in frustration. “Fine.”

  Jake took the dishes inside while she sat in the courtyard and stewed. He’d explain to her that she could do a lot of good inserting herself into an important position within the HOA’s inner circle. If anything, he’d explain, she might be able to save the elderly from the death panel the community had established. Lastly, he’d remind her that the goal was to get her a job with access to the club.

  By the time he returned from the kitchen, she’d calmed down somewhat. He led her by the hand to the garage. An electronic keypad was mounted to the outside wall of each door. Jake was amazed that he still remembered the code and that it hadn’t been changed. The carriage style door opened and the dark, impeccably kept garage opened up before them.

  His father was not typical of most men in which the garage was their personal fiefdom. He didn’t care at all about what it contained. He just insisted that the floor be painted and mopped so he didn’t track dirt or debris into the house. Shelves should be neat and tidy. Jake felt around the inside wall for the light switch as the light bulb on the garage door opener had burned out.

  Several fluorescent lights illuminated the garage, revealing two empty stalls. It was the third stall that elicited excitement from Ashby. She immediately moved toward the mysterious, hidden vehicle.

  A car was parked in the last stall, covered by a tan cover. Jake approached it and grabbed the cover in the center. He gently pulled it up and over the hood, revealing the hidden treasure underneath.

  “Is that a —?” she tried to ask before covering her mouth.

  Jake walked ahead and stopped at the vehicles door. “Yes, it is.” Jake leaned over the passenger window to get a better look.

  “What year is it? It looks brand new.”

  “If I know my father, it’s most likely a ’65 or ’66.”

  Jake’s father owned a 1965 candy apple red Ford Mustang convertible. The white interior was in pristine condition. The original Mustang convertible was one of the most sought-after classic cars in the United States and the one sitting before them was in showroom condition.

  “Where are the keys?” asked Ashby as she walked around the car, still not willing to touch it.

  “In the house somewhere, I imagine,” replied Jake. He rose up and looked around the garage. It would be like hunting for Easter eggs. “Or hidden in here somewhere.” He glanced up at the ceiling and noticed a set of pull down stairs leading to a crawl space above the garage. He shook his head as he considered the number of places his father could have valuables or things of use hidden.

  “We have to find the keys,” said Ashby. “I’ve always wanted to drive one of these.”

  “After the HOA soiree,” said Jake, putting a damper on the discovery. “Let’s head over to the club. I wanna talk to you about Stephanie’s offer.”

  Chapter 29

  Fruitvale West

  Swimming Club

  Saratoga, Ca
lifornia

  The Saratoga Swimming Club had originally been established as a non-profit community venture for the benefit of kids in the surrounding neighborhood. The heated pool and spa, basketball courts, and large grass field provided year-round activities that kept members socially active with their neighbors. After the eruption, the Board of Directors of the club, many of which were on the executive committee of the HOA, offered up the club facility as a central location to store the provisions gathered from the members.

  The pool was closed to swimming under the theory that its nearly one-hundred thousand gallons of water could be used in the event the power was shut down. In the early days following the eruption, when the leaders of Fruitvale West gathered together to concoct a plan, one of the club’s board members suggested covering the pool to avoid contamination from ash fallout. It was a decision which took several people working together to gather tarps, that they stitched and taped together, to create a cover large enough to cover the thirty by eighty-foot pool.

  This was just one of the many tidbits Jake learned as Joe Van Halen greeted them upon their arrival. Without going inside the clubhouse, he gave the two of them an overview of the facilities new purpose, and its security restrictions.

  The large grassy field was the location of the morning update which had been held every day at ten since the entire plan was put into place. Joe admitted to Jake that there was some pushback initially, but after the first home on the perimeter of the neighborhood was looted, everyone quickly jumped on board, the inconveniences and sacrifices notwithstanding.

  Joe left Jake with this final thought before he moved to the front of the crowd to begin the briefing. “At the end of the day, Jake, people want to feel safe. They’re willing to give up their rights, and even personal effects, in exchange for that peace of mind.”