Yellowstone: Fallout: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller (The Yellowstone Series Book 3) Read online

  Jake, whose tough exterior had broken down completely, was sobbing. “Why did he hide it? Not only from me, but from my mother too. Did you see the ticket stubs? There weren’t two in the box for each movie. Only one. His.”

  Ashby’s words were comforting. “He wasn’t ashamed of you, Jake. His pride and ego prevented him from admitting he was wrong when he got upset over your life’s choices. After all of these years, he still couldn’t bring himself to admit it.”

  Jake shook his head and thumbed through the contents of the box. The tears stopped, and he chuckled as he read the things that were said about him in the media. After a few moments of silence, he straightened the papers up and returned them to the cigar box.

  “Who knew?” he said with a laugh. “I’m not sure how I’d ever broach this subject with him. Then again, we may not ever see one another again to have a long overdue talk.”

  “Don’t say that, Jake. You and I will survive this, as will your parents. You guys will reconcile. The real question is when?”

  Jake nodded and finished going through the cigar boxes. He found some old coins in one box and the titles to their vehicles in another. The keys to the Mustang still remained elusive.

  After they put everything away and closed up the carriage house, Jake and Ashby relaxed and compared notes on their day. She’d made great progress getting to know Stephanie but she did advise Jake that Ken had a wandering eye.

  “What do you mean by that?” he asked.

  “You see what I’m wearing, right? Khakis. White shirt. Tennis shoes. Certainly not provocative.”

  “Right.”

  “Well, Mr. Kendall Kennedy spent the majority of the time that I was in his presence visually undressing me.”

  “What?” Jake was incredulous.

  “Jake, it’s fine. I can handle myself. But a woman knows when a man exudes his predator side. I don’t mean like a rapist, or whatever. He’s just one of those guys who disrespects his wife by considering his other options, that’s all.”

  “I’ve got a couple of options,” hissed Jake. “I can’t stand that guy and frankly, this place would be better off without him. He really has no idea what he’s doing.”

  Ashby hugged her man to reassure him that no douchebag could ever come between them. Then she whispered in his ear. “Mister, you better explain why we can’t have some special quality time together now that you have proclaimed our little hacienda free of bugs of the electronic persuasion.”

  “I have to work tonight, at midnight, to be precise.”

  Ashby glanced over his shoulder at a grandfather clock in the corner of the room. “It’s only nine. We have plenty of time.”

  “I’m supposed to, quote, get some rest,” Jake protested mildly.

  “I can help you with that, Jake Wheeler. Come along, now.”

  Chapter 31

  Swimming Club

  Fruitvale West

  Saratoga, California

  The club was abuzz with activity as two pickup trucks and a white, unmarked panel truck were backed up to the clubhouse entrance. Jake counted at least a dozen armed me milling about, all of which were carrying a rifle over their shoulders. He walked up to Mike who he had spent the morning with.

  “What’s going on?” Jake asked.

  “We’re getting ready to load up for the night,” he replied. “Go inside and find Ken. He’ll assign you a weapon.”

  Jake glanced around at the men who were talking among themselves and entered the clubhouse for the first time. Inside were plastic shelving racks which stood six feet tall. They were divided into sections by food, hygiene supplies, weapons, and miscellaneous appliances.

  “Come here, Wheeler!” shouted Ken over the chatter. Jake turned and saw him standing over two folding tables covered with weapons and ammunition.

  “Ken, I have no idea why I am here. What is all this?” asked Jake as he gestured toward the armed men.

  “We have to feed this community, Wheeler,” he began in response. “Do you see the food shelves over there? They don’t get stocked by Sysco or Kraft. We have to do it. New residents, like yourselves, contribute, but it’s not enough. We have to go out and make runs. It’s part of our jobs, and yours too.”

  “Where do you go?”

  “During the day, I send out procurement spotters to determine grocery stores, food warehouses, or commercial locations which might have what we need. We send two pickups filled with our best guys to provide protection while the van, and the men assigned to it, load up the supplies we’ve identified.”

  Jake pointed toward two men checking their AR-15s. “You’ve managed to assemble some pretty good artillery.”

  Ken nodded. “Several of us saw the handwriting on the wall after the eruption. We loaded up and drove to Reno and made several purchases from individuals through ArmsList. It wasn’t enough, so we headed toward Vegas. It took three days, but we did okay.”

  Jake nodded and returned his attention to the table. “What is my assignment?”

  “This is your first trip out, Wheeler, and we need to get to know one another. I’m assigning you to the van to load up the supplies. The other guys will handle your security.”

  “I’m carrying my sidearm,” Jake insisted.

  “Not a problem. But I can’t assign you a rifle this go around.”

  Jake pointed to the end of the table. “That’s my hunting knife. May I have it back?”

  “What for?”

  Jake thought of a good lie. “My father gave it to me. It’s kind of a security blanket.”

  Ken shrugged and waved his hand indicating his acquiescence. “Nobody else wanted it anyway. Go ahead.”

  Jake grabbed the knife and its sheath. He quickly affixed it to his leg and then checked his handgun. He held it up for Ken to see.

  “Do you have additional mags for one of these?”

  “I don’t know, Wheeler. Look in that plastic bin over there. Maybe one of those will fit.”

  Jake had several magazines for his sidearm that were turned over to the HOA when they entered Fruitvale West. Retrieving them was on his mental wish list. He took his time rummaging through the bin and smiled slightly when he saw they were there, and still loaded.

  He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Ken had been distracted. Jake quickly shoved them in his pocket and headed for the door.

  Mike was the driver and along with another man who rode on the bench seat, would constitute the three-man team responsible for the van and loading it. As they drove toward their target for the evening, Mike explained that once the area was clear of onlookers, the other men would help in the loading process to expedite the operation.

  Jake asked Mike as they got closer to Los Gatos, the evening’s destination. “Have your men had to shoot anyone yet?”

  Mike shook his head and replied. “No. We usually fire warning shots and anyone in the area runs off. If we’re efficient, which we have been so far, we’ll be in and out in less than fifteen minutes.”

  “What about the police? Are they called?”

  “Not so far,” replied Mike. “We pick our locations carefully to avoid the cops, or anyone else who might be guarding the target.”

  Since Mike was willing to talk, Jake decided to continue his inquiries. “How many times have you done this?”

  “We do it every other night. This will be our third run.”

  “Third?”

  “Yes, and the first two went off without a hitch.”

  Jake looked out of the window as they continued traveling down Saratoga – Los Gatos Road. Businesses were boarded up and houses were dark inside. Occasionally, a group would be standing around on a street corner, talking until the three-vehicle caravan passed. The spectacle of the late-night travelers always caught the curious eyes of those they passed.

  The pickup trucks in front and behind of the delivery van had men seated in the beds with rifles strapped around their shoulders. There was little doubt that the group had nefarious intentions
.

  Jake understood what the community was trying to do. He did not agree with their methods. Soon, the pickings would become slim, as they say. The use of force would be necessary. The openness of the caravan would be enticing to anyone who paid attention.

  As they turned into an alley behind a Walgreen’s Drug Store adjacent to a Family Dollar store, Jake secretly hoped they were smart enough to take a different route back to Fruitvale West for two reasons. One, he didn’t want to get ambushed on the major street without his battle rifle. Second, street-wise observers would follow the caravan right back to their home, instantly making them the target of a smarter, more powerful group of looters.

  Somehow, Jake knew that Kendall Kennedy hadn’t thought all of these scenarios through.

  Chapter 32

  Walgreens Shopping Center

  Los Gatos, California

  The small strip center on the north side of Saratoga – Los Gatos Road contained Walgreens and Family dollar as its retail anchors, with several insignificant small shops such as a caterer and a dry cleaner sandwiched in between.

  “Listen up, people,” began Ken as the men piled out of the vehicles which had backed up to the rear service entrances off Monterey Avenue. “You guys know the drill. Clear the front and then coordinate your breach. Alarms may sound but as we’ve learned, nobody will come running. The biggest threat we may face are curiosity seekers. If they cause trouble, scare them off with a warning shot. Trust me, after we leave, they’ll be glad to pick at the scraps.”

  Ken turned to Mike and Jake. “Mike, you handle the drug store. Wheeler, go with Mike’s number one guy to handle the Family Dollar. We focus on case packs in the storerooms first. It’s easiest to handle. Then, hit the dry goods on the shelves. Use empty boxes to load or shopping carts to deliver to the rear. Don’t worry about protection. That’s what your security team is for.”

  Jake looked around as the men scampered off to their respective posts. There was nothing about this operation that he liked. These retailers may have sold all of their products by this point. This particular location was surrounded by residences and only a few blocks from the Monte Sereno City Hall and satellite police station.

  Ken couldn’t be assured that the police wouldn’t respond. If they did, were his group of looter wannabes prepared to enter a gunfight with the cops? Jake sure wasn’t going to shoot at cops. He’d run first.

  The sound of broken glass and an inside alarm broke the silence of the night indicating the teams were inside. Seconds later, the panic bars were kicked open at the rear fire exits, setting off another high-pitched alarm.

  “These idiots will wake the dead,” Jake mumbled to himself as he followed his partner into the store lit only by a few fluorescent lights. Jake moved quickly, grabbing several boxes of food products at a time. He wasn’t selective, only making sure it was on Ken’s list—dry goods, hygiene, and medical supplies, in that order.

  Much to Jake’s surprise, he didn’t observe anyone watching from a distance as he ran in and out of the back of the Family Dollar. There were no police sirens in the distance. The group actually worked together quickly and efficiently considering it had just been there third outing.

  The storeroom was cleared and Jake moved into the retail space. The shelves had been ravaged by customers prior to the store’s closing for business. Some of the security team were loading up shopping carts to be wheeled to the rear. Others walked the front sidewalk keeping vigil for anyone who might interrupt their break-in.

  So far so good. Jake was beginning to get comfortable, but he was tiring fast. He’d completely lost track of how long they’d been at it.

  Then he heard Ken’s voice from the back of the store.

  “Two more minutes. Make them count!”

  Jake’s eyes searched the store and considered his options. The food was gone and the next most important item, in his mind, was medical supplies. If first responders were not on the job, he wondered how long it would be before the hospitals closed down.

  He hit the first aid aisle and emptied what was left into a shopping cart. He pushed it through the space until he reached the back of the van. It looked like a tornado had been unleashed inside. The boxes were neatly stacked at the front, but every loose item off the shelves was thrown into a pile that continued to grow.

  Mike noticed that Jake had hesitated and provided a brief explanation. “We have a team that will sort it out and stock the community shelves in the morning.”

  Jake nodded and ran in for another load. This time, he planned on hitting the nutritional supplements like vitamins, protein powder, and meal replacement shakes. He’d just topped off his cart when someone yelled, “Time!”

  Jake was one of the last to leave the Family Dollar. The pickups were full of bulkier household items from Walgreens. The van was spilling over the back edge of the roll-up door with various sundries and food.

  “That’s it boys!” shouted Ken. “Wheeler, head over to the corner and make sure we’re clear to leave.”

  “What? Are we going back the same way?” asked Jake.

  “Of course, why wouldn’t we? Go!”

  Jake looked around and instantly became concerned that he would be exposed for the purposes of directing traffic without a weapon. He jogged down the dark, tree covered street and arrived at the stop sign. That’s when he realized he wasn’t alone.

  “Hey! What makes you think you can come up in here and open up? That’s our block.”

  Jake spun around and pulled his sidearm.

  “Back off!” he shouted. “I just follow orders.”

  “Don’t matter,” shouted a man from behind him who’d been walking toward Jake from the back of the shopping center.

  Jake swung around and pointed his pistol at the new assailant. He started slowly retreating down the alley, pointing his weapon at the four men who were now approaching with pipes and baseball bats.

  Jake heard a shrill whistle. “Come on, Wheeler. We’re going this way.”

  He continued to back away from the men and then turned to run. Several of the Fruitvale West men were pounding the side of the pickup trucks shouting for him to hurry. The attackers were faster after Jake’s intense exercise earlier. He was halfway toward the pickups when shots rang out.

  Two bullets skipped to the side of him and in the direction of the men chasing him down. They yelled as they slowed their pace. Jake finally arrived at the tailgate and he was pulled into the back where Ken was waiting for him.

  “You’re a little slow, Wheeler. You might want to get in shape for the next operation.”

  Jake’s chest was heaving as he tried to catch his breath. “What was the point of sending me down there if you planned on going the other direction?”

  “One of the guys thought they saw movement around the street corner. I assumed, with your law enforcement experience, you could handle anything that might arise.”

  Jake rolled his eyes and shook his head as the trucks pulled away. “That’s a load of crap. Your guys have rifles.”

  Ken leaned over to Jake and snarled. “That’s right, Wheeler, and their job is to protect the contents of that van. Your job is to follow orders. Relax, man. You did as your told. Good boy. All I’m saying is you’ve got to be able to run a little faster. You know, if you wanna live.”

  Chapter 33

  Fruitvale West

  Saratoga, California

  The next the day, the fallout from Ken unnecessarily exposing Jake to danger during the Walgreens raid was overshadowed by the ash fallout which had reached the Pacific Coast. Jake was hyped up until dawn, ranting non-stop to Ashby about the reckless methods employed by Ken. To be sure, Jake was willing to admit, they had success thus far. But it couldn’t last because they were over-exposed and operated under the assumptions they’d meet little or no resistance. It was just a matter of time before one or more of them were killed during the process.

  He finally drifted off to sleep. Ashby, however, was now wide awa
ke. She allowed Jake to blow off steam and vent his anger. That’s what people, and volcanoes, do. She wrote him a note and left for the Kennedy’s home just after eight that morning.

  She and Stephanie had a busy day. It was the first of the week which meant the medications needed to be restocked. This would be Ashby’s first opportunity to enter the clubhouse and get a look at the community’s supplies. The two of them would also be attending the morning update delivered by the executive committee.

  The Kennedys lived on Horseshoe Drive in a recently renovated property they purchased six years ago. Ken’s years on the Saratoga City Council were good to him. He made a lot of contacts with real estate developers who were always attempting to curry favor. When the home on Horseshoe Drive fell into foreclosure, Union Bank, a local community bank serving Silicon Valley, took the property over.

  Ken reached out to the distressed property manager of the bank, an attractive female executive in her early thirties. The relationship was a win-win in many ways for Ken. He began a torrid love affair with the bank executive, one which benefitted them both.

  Union Bank had been seeking a variance in the City of Saratoga to expand their undersized local branch for years. Ken Kennedy offered to deliver the variance they needed, in exchange for a few accommodations.

  He was sold the Horseshoe Drive property for half its market value. The bank financed the mortgage and a generous amount for the building of an addition. By the time Ken, Union Bank, and the various contractors associated with both the bank and the home renovation were finished, pockets were lined, balance sheets were inflated, and Ken accumulated a variety of toys.

  Fancy cars, a new boat, and a replacement mistress were all ancillary benefits of Ken’s way of conducting the City of Saratoga’s business. He was soon identified as the go-to guy to get things done in Saratoga by real estate developers and entrepreneurs.

  Ken knew his side deals couldn’t go on forever, so he made them while he could. After several years of lining his pockets, he was astute enough to call it quits. He shocked everyone, including his wife, when he announced he would not be seeking re-election to the City Council.