Yellowstone: Fallout: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller (The Yellowstone Series Book 3) Page 18

  Ashby waived goodbye and closed the door. She walked back toward the kitchen and then stopped. She wanted alone time with Stephanie. Ashby hated to take advantage of the woman’s distress, but while Stephanie’s guard was down, she could learn a lot about Fruitvale West.

  They spent the morning talking about mundane subjects like why the Kennedy’s never had children and how they felt about the neighborhood. Stephanie admitted she saw the advantages given to the members of the executive committee, but she pushed the guilt in the back of her mind. As she put it, survival of the fittest was going to become the norm. She didn’t plan to have a tombstone which read, Here lies Stephanie Kennedy, Enlightened, but Privileged Neighbor, Died of Starvation.

  After a light lunch, the two women retired to Ken’s study where Stephanie sat in his chair. She was mindlessly spinning back and forth when the doorbell rang. Ashby told her to sit still while she answered it.

  The Kennedy’s had a peep hole and Ashby’s heart leapt when she saw Jake standing alone on the porch. She quickly unlocked the door and let him in, holding one finger to her lips. He nodded and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek.

  She whispered to him, “Anything?”

  Jake shook his head. “We’ve been inside the wall so far. Everybody took a break for lunch and in an hour, the search will resume on the streets and neighborhoods surrounding Fruitvale West. But, they’re only going to look until six. After that, everybody will take a rest break. Some will resume looking tomorrow, but most of us are going on two runs tonight.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  Jake rolled his eyes and shook his head. “This came straight from Joe. Ken’s disappearance is disturbing, he said, but we can’t stop living our lives.”

  “Pretty harsh,” said Ashby.

  “Ashby, who is it?” Stephanie was calling for her from the study.

  Ashby grabbed Jake by the hand and took him through the kitchen, past the dining room and into Ken’s study. Stephanie rose out of Ken’s chair and looked at Jake with hopeful eyes. He held his arms out to give her a hug.

  Jake began his rehearsed words. “Stephanie, I’ve been in law enforcement for a long time. I want you to trust me when I say that no news is good news at this point. If your husband had met with foul play within the neighborhood, we would’ve discovered it during our search.”

  “They found nothing?” she asked.

  “Not a trace, but as I said, that means we don’t have a problem within the community and there’s still hope.”

  Stephanie dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. Ashby opened up Ken’s wet bar and retrieved a bottle of Evian from the small refrigerator. She poured it into a crystal glass for Stephanie.

  “What’s next, Jake?”

  “This afternoon, they’ll continue the search outside the walls. I know this is hard for you, but are you up for some questions. It was relayed to me that Ken planned on doing some work outside the wall last night. Is that right?”

  She nodded as she blew her nose. “He didn’t tell me where. He just left. I didn’t like it, but I never had a say in the matter.”

  Jake continued. “I take it he’s done this before.”

  “Yes. Three times since all of this happened. The runs are so important, you know.”

  Ashby watched Jake manipulate Stephanie. He broke the news to her about the limited afternoon search. At first, she was upset, lashing out against Mike, Joe, and Paulette for being so insensitive and ungrateful for Ken’s efforts. After a moment, she calmed down when Jake assured her tomorrow’s search would be more widespread as they canvassed the surrounding neighborhoods.

  “I understand, Jake. Thank you both so much for helping me get thought this. I really don’t have any friends here. I mean, Ken always avoided social occasions. He’d never been involved in the neighborhood or HOA after he left public service.”

  Ashby moved around Ken’s desk and leaned against it. She reached for Stephanie’s hand and smiled. “We’ll be here for you, Stephanie. You know what. What is your favorite home-cooked dinner? Seriously, I want to make you a nice meal. Jake and I will fix it together, maybe we’ll bust open a bottle of cabernet. Whadya say?”

  “I think that’s a good idea for you guys,” added Jake. “Unfortunately, Mike has tapped me to lead one of the team’s tonight, so I’ll have to pass on the wine.”

  “Join us for dinner, Jake. Please,” said Stephanie. “I really trust you both to tell me like it is, not some sugarcoated BS that the Van Halens might feed me.”

  “Deal,” said Jake with a smile. “In fact, since I’ll be out most of the night, would you mind Ashby staying here at the house with you? I’d feel safer and the two of you can put her heads together about where Ken might’ve gone. What do you think?”

  Ashby perked up as she saw where Jake was leading them. “Yeah, a slumber party. Are you up for it, Stephanie?”

  Ken’s wife managed a genuine smile. “I would love that. I might talk your ear off, however. Ashby, would you mind?”

  “Not at all. Now, what would you like to eat?”

  Stephanie leaned back in the chair. “Popcorn. Cheddar Cheese. Twizzlers.”

  Ashby looked around Ken’s desk for a pen. “Wait, let me write this down.” She began scribbling on a note pad as Stephanie continued.

  “Peanut butter. Ritz crackers.”

  “Honey, do you have all of this?” asked Ashby. “Or do I need to go to the clubhouse? Paulette said she’d get me permission.”

  “We have it all at the clubhouse,” replied Stephanie. “Tell them I sent you to the executive pantry. They’ll know what you mean.”

  Ashby looked at Jake and shrugged. “Would you mind tagging along to help me carry things back?”

  “No, not at all,” he replied. “Stephanie, will you be okay for a little bit?”

  She nodded and stood. “You two have made me feel so much better. I’m gonna draw a hot bath and start on that wine. You two take your time. The slumber party can start when Ashby gets back.”

  Jake and Ashby pulled their particulate masks on as they stepped onto the front lawn. They both observed how the fallout was getting worse. Together, they held hands as they made their way to the club for their first look at how the elites fed themselves. Ashby made a promise as they talked. There would be one additional box full of supplies for the two of them.

  Chapter 39

  Fruitvale West

  Saratoga, California

  Ashby and Jake exchanged pleasantries with the Van Halens and were introduced to the ladies who held the keys to the vault—the executive pantry. While they loaded up three boxes, ostensibly bound for the Kennedy’s residence, they eavesdropped on a conversation between several members of the executive committee and the Van Halens.

  “I remember what it was like when the snipers attacked the Metcalf Substation,” said one of the women. “PG & E never gave us a heads-up. They decided to reroute power from Silicon Valley and our part of San Jose just to avert a blackout.”

  “Yeah, downtown had power, and we didn’t, for days,” commented another.

  Joe’s voice could be heard as Jake and Ashby walked through the steel restaurant shelves which lined the adjacent room. Ashby was picking up the items Stephanie requested while Jake filled their box with luxury food items, things that they’d ordinarily take for granted. He focused on portability. Canned meats, vitamin supplements, and meal replacement bars.

  “We had four homes broken into during that time,” Joe said. “Frankly, that experience prompted us to take the difficult steps of organizing this committee.”

  “The rumors in Oakland at the FEMA trailers was that our power would be cut off soon like up north,” commented the woman. “How are we going to deal with that?”

  Joe replied. “We’ve already started making changes with that eventuality in mind. Only a third of the people who went to Oakland came back. We had seventeen families leave in the last day or so for Mexico. Our numbers are dwindling, by design.�
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  “That’s good, but I have to wonder,” the woman continued. “Will we be able to protect ourselves when the lights go out if we’re losing our numbers.”

  “Don’t you worry about that,” replied Paulette. “We’re making the ones who count happy. They’ll stay.”

  Jake’s head snapped in Ashby’s direction and he shook his head in disgust. He tipped his box toward her slightly so she could see it was full. It contained a six-pack of Blue Moon Belgian White beer. She winked at him and then nodded her head toward the door. They slowly moved toward the exit while the four members of the executive committee were engrossed in their conversation.

  “Do you think Ken ran off?” asked the other unidentified woman.

  “Probably,” said Paulette. “He was a known philanderer. He’s probably on a bender holed up with some hussy somewhere. He’ll come back eventually.”

  “Is that why you’re continuing the runs?” asked the other woman.

  “Yes, in part,” replied Joe. “The show must go on, as they say. Regardless of the reasons for Ken’s sudden disappearance, we’ve got to maintain order and control. If we can’t keep these people fed, and provide them the illusion of safety, we’ll lose our grip. That’s why, frankly, I’m not worried about people leaving, especially the non-contributors.”

  “Joe’s right,” added Paulette. “Look at it this way. We’ve already received their contributions to the community pot, so to speak. Now, they are just more mouths to feed, especially if they aren’t willing to help with security or go on the runs.”

  “That makes them dead weight in my book,” said one of the women.

  Joe agreed. “Soon, we’ll have the right number of people and the appropriate mix”

  Paulette chimed in. “Which is why we aren’t over concerning ourselves with Ken’s disappearance. Don’t get me wrong, he was very useful early on. Soon, however, he began to think a little too highly of his importance around here.”

  “Are you going to step up the search?” one of the women asked.

  Joe summarized the executive committee’s unofficial position. “We’ll give it one more day, just to make it look like we’ve given it a solid effort. Then we’ll move on.”

  Jake and Ashby slipped out of the clubhouse without being questioned about the boxes of supplies. They’d heard enough.

  Chapter 40

  The Wineries

  West of Saratoga, California

  With Ken missing, Mike was elevated temporarily to chief of security for Fruitvale West and he intended to prove his worth. He insisted upon making two runs that night. He and his team would move in the more populated area of northeast of the neighborhood surrounding the Westgate Center shopping district in Castro.

  He tasked Jake with leading a team to the west into the area of Saratoga known for its vineyards, hitting unexpected targets like the Saratoga Country Club. These locations had been on Ken’s list for some time but they weren’t close enough together to warrant leading a raid that included the delivery van. Jake was assigned three men who would take two pickup trucks.

  Jake studied the map with his guys on the hood of a black Dodge Ram 1500. “Let’s work the vineyards closest to the Monte Bello Preserve on the westernmost part of the valley. These three wineries — Ridge, Fellom Ranch, and Picchetti are isolated and away from residential populations. All of them have restaurant operations to accompany their wedding catering businesses. We’ll be loading cases of canned goods, rather than emptying shelves like the other night.”

  “How about the wine?” asked one of his men.

  “As much as I’d like to, we’ve got to focus on food for now.” began Jake in his reply, and then he paused. “You know what, we’ve all got wives and girlfriends waiting at home for us who stress out over our little raids. We’ll grab a bottle each for them, as a treat and our way of saying thanks for backing us up. How’s that?”

  They guys uniformly agreed and showed it with a chorus of hell yeahs and high-fives. They were about to load up in the truck when Mike stopped Jake.

  “I overhead where you plan on starting tonight. While you’re out there, I want you to hit the Sunnyvale Rod & Gun Club and bust into their lockers.”

  “What lockers?” asked Jake. “It’s just a shooting range, right?”

  “Not anymore. They added a building which includes a small restaurant, an indoor pistol range, and lockers for their members to store their weapons.”

  “I don’t know, Mike,” said Jake hesitantly. “We’ve got our platter full and I’d seriously doubt that any gunowner left their weapons behind under these circumstances. Plus, if I remember correctly, the gun club is sandwiched between a quarry and the mountain ridge with only a single, long driveway in and out.”

  Mike looked at the sky and wiped some ash off his face. “Maybe I should have picked a guy with some cojones to lead this run. If you’re scared—.”

  Jake immediately cut him off. “Not scared, just smart. I’ll take care of it.” Jake immediately looked to his team and waved for them to get in their trucks without saying another word.

  He was quiet as he drove toward the small range that separated Silicon Valley from the Pacific Ocean. Jake had managed a few hours of sleep before undertaking the evening run. He was not fully rested, but his mind was clear. The results of tomorrow’s search for Ken would dictate their next move.

  He was prepared to hold onto what she and Ashby had at Fruitvale West as long as possible. Before they left, he wanted to stockpile more food and increase his ammunition supply to go with his large cache of weapons. Most importantly, he needed a place to go.

  Jake was not confident in the deals struck with the South American countries to take in American refugees. He had even less confidence in the safety afforded Americans travelling through Mexico. It was a lawless nation that couldn’t take care of its citizens or tourists before the collapse. Hundreds of thousands of vehicles traveling southbound, loaded down with prized possessions would, provide the drug cartels and independent banditos ample opportunity to better their lives.

  He unconsciously gripped the wheel until his knuckles turned white out of frustration as he thought of the Mad House being buried in ash. It was the perfect location to weather this catastrophe. Jake simply had to find a suitable alternative, somewhere farther south, where they could find a water source and grow their own food.

  The first stop was Fellom Ranch Vineyards which had been abandoned. It yielded a pickup bed full of supplies and food products. Jake was relieved that the family had left the winery. He grew up with one of the Fellom kids when he lived at Fruitvale West. They’d attended high school together.

  They made their way around the ridge to the largest operation of the evening—Ridge Vineyards. For sixty years, Ridge had been making an exceptional zinfandel which was a local restaurant favorite.

  The Ridge estate was far more extensive than their prior stop and was most likely to be guarded by security, or at the least, members of the family who operated the Lytton Springs extension of the famed Ridge estate.

  Jake shut off the trucks lights and glanced in his rear view mirror to confirm the trailing truck did the same. The man riding shotgun was familiar with the part of the estate open to visitors.

  “There are three separate groups of buildings in the valley,” he explained. “Along the ridge which separated this operation from Fellom Ranch are the maintenance sheds and a caretaker’s home at the back corner.”

  “There’s no need to go back there,” said Jake somewhat impatiently. “What’s open to the public, or adjacent to it?”

  He continued to drive up an incline toward the top of a hill when he saw a faint light in the distance. His companion pointed ahead.

  “That’s the parking lot street lamp. Take the left fork up ahead. It will lead you into the winery. Once you reach the top of the hill, continue past the buildings and outdoor seating until you see a gravel access road. Take a right there.”

  As instructed, J
ake moved to the top of the hill and was pleased to see that there were no lights on around the reception building or the smaller administrative buildings off to the right. At this point, Jake felt more like a looter than a survivor. He recalled the many conversations he and Ashby had about the line they wouldn’t cross when it came to navigating a post-collapse world. Jake’s killing of Ken Kennedy had already obliterated one line. Was he about to violate another if confronted by someone attempting to protect their business?

  The men parked at the rear entrance and immediately jumped out of the trucks with their weapons ready. Jake chose a Mossberg 590-A1 shotgun from the club’s arsenal together with a shoulder bandolier that held two dozen shells. He loaded the weapon with two double aught buck shells to every one bird shot.

  This Mossberg model held nine shells, eight in the tube plus one racked and ready. Jake had learned in tactical operations to load a birdshot shell first in order to produce a wide scatter. This would accommodate poor aim in a stressful situation and at least wound or repel the assailant. He then followed the load with two shells of double aught buck, easily capable of killshots. Then he repeated the sequence.

  Jake motioned for the men to spread out around the buildings to check the entrances and to identify any occupants. They were told not to engage, but rather, regroup at the pickups after they’d conducted their surveillance.

  He led the way to the left, seeking cover when possible, and peering into windows from a safe distance. Jake had no intention of getting killed for a pickup load of canned goods and pasta. He pulled his guys aside and gave them instructions. The three men would breach the rear entry and move quickly to the kitchen area of the building. He’d maintain patrols around the exterior of the buildings to ensure they weren’t surprised. In and out, he’d said, with some time for wine shopping.

  Jake had no particular reason for feeling uncomfortable, other than the fact they were walking into the unknown again. Eventually, a burglar’s luck runs out when he’s greeted with a gun barrel on the other side of the door.