Yellowstone: Survival: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller (The Yellowstone Series Book 4) Read online

  But if it does …

  Epigraph

  I am prepared for the worst, but hope for the best.

  ~ Benjamin Disraeli

  *****

  That which does not kill us, makes us stronger.

  ~ Friedrich Neitzke

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  It is not the strongest of the species that survive, nor the most intelligent, but the one most responsive to change.

  ~ Charles Darwin

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  Failure may be required in order to survive in life, because in order to rise up, you gotta know what rock bottom looks like.

  ~ Author Bobby Akart

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  Survival is a state of mind that is innate in all of us, you just have to be willing to use it.

  ~ Author Bobby Akart

  PART ONE

  Sailing Away

  Chapter 1

  The Pacific Ocean

  Off the coast of Big Sur, California

  The ocean was a strange place after the sun dropped below the horizon and stars revealed themselves in the sky. As day gave way to night, the moonlight triggered phenomena in the water that can only be witnessed after dark. Bioluminescence caused the sea to shimmer in waves of electric bluish-white light.

  Strange animals rose from the depths of the Pacific Ocean under the cover of darkness. Rarely seen creatures migrated to the surface to feed. By day, they lurk along the deep shelf that runs off the west coast of America, and each night, they are one of many animals that seek the surface to find their prey.

  These creatures were not afraid of the dark, nor were most people. They were afraid of what’s in it. It’s the unknown we fear when we gaze into the darkness, nothing more.

  The sixty-foot Grand Banks motor yacht easily broke the negligible waves on the calm seas of the Pacific that evening as it followed a generally south-southeast heading parallel to the coast of California. After the golden glow dissipated on the cliffs of Big Sur, the yacht’s passengers turned their attention to what lay ahead for them.

  Ashby Donovan planted a kiss on Jake Wheeler’s cheek and stood to stretch. This spontaneous show of affection caused her to chuckle, piquing Jake’s curiosity.

  “What?” he questioned.

  Her response was simple, yet profound. “Man plans, and God laughs.”

  “It’s hard to argue with that,” Jake replied with a smile that could barely be seen in the low light that emanated from the yacht’s instrument panel.

  Ashby explained, “My father used to say that phrase. Think about it. Our best-laid plans for our lives, sometimes meticulously charted and analyzed, can be upended in the blink of an eye by unexpected events.”

  Jake laughed. “You mean like the eruption of a supervolcano? Something small and insignificant like that?”

  “Yeah, very funny,” said Ashby as she administered a gentle poke to Jake’s ribs with her elbow. “My father never used the adage in relation to something of that magnitude. He would talk about unforeseen roadblocks like an accident or a change in jobs. It doesn’t necessarily mean that the plans are upended for the worse. Sometimes, it might be for the better and you don’t realize it until much later.”

  Jake nodded and reached out for Ashby to join him on the bench seat next to the ship’s wheel. “Fate can bring people together despite the violent upheavals in the world around us. Look at us.”

  Ashby snuggled closer to Jake as the night air grew cooler. Neither one of them were dressed for navigating the Pacific Ocean as temperatures dropped into the low fifties.

  “This is what I mean. Weeks ago, when I was in that tense confrontation with Younger, I was oblivious to my surroundings. I was focused on directing my anger at him for being unreasonable and, moreover, insulting me in front of all those people. Looking back, it was all so petty and miniscule in the scheme of things.”

  Jake nodded and pulled her a little closer to him. He was also feeling the chill and wanted to resume their trip inside the cabin but wasn’t sure whether he could let go of the ship’s wheel and continue to control her from below.

  “Luckily for you, I was standing between that toppling bookcase and your head.”

  “See, that’s what I mean. I had big plans for my trip to Yellowstone. It all fell apart because of what I said in Los Angeles and the argument with Younger. God laughed at me, but in exchange, he gave me you.”

  “Fate.”

  “Yes, or destiny. Even in a moment of darkness, as my plans were tossed aside, new ones were laid out for me. And here we are.”

  Jake chuckled. “Did you ever imagine yourself sailing the Pacific Ocean with a handsome captain at the helm of a magnificent ship?”

  Ashby pulled away and stood. “Every girl’s dream, of course. One of these days I’ll get to fulfill it. Meanwhile, I’m stuck with you.”

  “Hey!” Jake playfully protested, although he expected the feisty Ashby would have a quick comeback to his statement. They enjoyed teasing each other and playing off one another’s remarks. In the face of great adversity, their friendship had grown to a deep love and respect for one another. One that would soon be tested.

  *****

  Mike Dorsey was a building contractor with a reputation for running his crews with an iron fist. Before the collapse, he had been on his building sites six days a week, cracking the whip over his guys, so to speak, to make sure his projects were brought in on time and under budget.

  It was Mike’s tenacity as a builder that had caught the eye of Kendall Kennedy years ago when he began to interview contractors to remodel the Kennedy home at Fruitvale West. The two men had quickly become friends, drinking buddies, and fellow womanizers.

  Mike was in a loveless marriage, while Ken was simply a serial philanderer. The men frequently met up after a long workday. They typically found their way to local strip clubs, where they took pride in throwing their money around to the mostly naked women while downing the cocktails that provided liquid courage.

  Although Ken had never disclosed to Mike the exact location where his girlfriend resided, it was just outside the Fruitvale West gated entry. The night of his disappearance, Mike was simply told to handle things for the evening while Ken let off some steam.

  On day two after Ken’s disappearance, the search moved outside the walls into the surrounding neighborhoods. Mike personally handled the door-to-door interviews. When a scantily clad woman opened her door to him that afternoon, he immediately knew he’d found Ken’s mistress.

  She recognized Mike as well, which was the reason she allowed him inside her home, the one bought and paid for by her lover. She was a dancer at the nearby club that had been most frequented by Mike and Ken during their happy-hour outings.

  She quickly recalled the events of that evening when Ken went missing, prompting Mike to focus his search on the sidewalk and the surrounding homes. He found traces of blood in the grass, and then, like one of his best hunting dogs, he followed the trail of blood to the crawl space of a nearby house.

  Using his best instincts, he began to analyze who’d fit the bill of an old friend, as Ken had put it to his mistress that night. Then he considered who might have the motive to kill Ken and dispose of his body. All fingers pointed to one suspect in Mike’s eyes—the new guy, Jake Wheeler.

  Mike raced to Ken’s home and found Stephanie Kennedy in a near drunken stupor. After questioning her, Mike determined that Ashby was knee-deep in the conspiracy. He abruptly left and sped over to the Wheeler property, looking for Jake. In Stephanie’s incoherent statement, she forgot to mention that Ken’s Escalade had been taken by Ashby.

  Mike quickly figured that out, and the chase was on. As he closed on Jake and Ashby on the road outside Fruitvale West, he considered the fact that he was alone. No matter, he’d said to himself as he stopped before returning to the neighborhood. He’d gather up a posse of his best men, grab their highest-powered weapons, and track down Wheeler and his girl.

  He knew where they were going. The marina and the Ken
nedy motor yacht. An hour later, they were almost upon My Wet Dream when Ashby opened fire on them. Obviously, Mike surmised, the two of them had firepower that he was unaware of.

  He and his men watched Jake nearly stall the yacht as he made a hasty escape. Clearly, Jake wasn’t well-versed in operating the vessel, and Mike immediately came up with a better plan.

  He kept his boat parked at the marina at Monterey Bay as well. It wasn’t a multimillion-dollar motor yacht like Ken’s, but it was perfectly suited for another of his favorite pastimes, offshore fishing.

  The thirty-foot, center-console Cobia cut through the water effortlessly as the six-hundred-horsepower twin engines pursued the much slower Grand Banks motor yacht.

  Mike wasn’t interested in overtaking the yacht in a hail of gunfire like pirates attacking a ship on the open seas. No, his mind had developed a more sinister plan—one that would get the yacht returned to the marina and exact revenge for Ken’s death in a way he’d cheer on with enthusiasm from his grave.

  Chapter 2

  The Pacific Ocean

  Off the coast of Morro Bay, California

  Jake was relieved to find the instruments and controls within the salon of the Grand Banks to be nearly identical to those on the open sky bridge. With the passing of each nautical mile, he became more comfortable with the prospect of navigating the Pacific Ocean for a couple of thousand miles until they could reach a safer destination in South America.

  “Help me find the other manuals for this thing,” said Jake as he continued to watch the compass and glance toward the shoreline to follow the lights. The simple laminated start-up instructions provided him nothing on the complex electronics the yacht offered.

  He had no idea how to use the yacht’s global positioning instruments or its electronic charts. Using common sense and his recollection of the California coastline, he continued to travel south-southeast, keeping the lights of coastal homes in his sight.

  “Come on, Jake,” protested Ashby with a hint of a whine. “Can’t we learn about how to drive it tomorrow? Let’s get to know our new home and christen it properly, if you know what I mean.” Ashby continued rummaging through the cabinets, looking for the manuals, alcohol, food, and anything of interest.

  Jake hesitated before responding. He was pleased that he’d managed to get away from Mike and his guys without destroying the yacht in the process. They could continue following the course along the coast, but he’d much prefer to travel during the daytime when he could see where he was going.

  “Ashby, I know just enough about this thing to be dangerous. There are electronics, radar, mapping …” Jake’s voice trailed off. He looked in wonder at the complex system of instruments and gauges that made up the yacht’s navigational panel.

  Ashby stopped her quest for an adult beverage and approached Jake to hug him around the waist. “Listen, we’re not necessarily in a hurry to get anywhere, are we? Frankly, the farther south we travel, the less likely we’ll be exposed to the worst of the ash fallout that’s hitting the Pacific Northwest and Canada. Once we reach the coffee belt and enter the lower latitudes, our air quality will begin to increase considerably.”

  “The coffee belt?” asked Jake.

  Ashby chuckled, as she’d used a term that harkened back to her college days when she stayed up long nights to study. “Oh, sorry. I had a brief flashback. Coffee plants prefer rich soil, mild temps, with lots of rain and shaded sun.”

  “Like marijuana,” added Jake with a smile.

  “What do you know about growing weed?” asked Ashby.

  “You had a brief flashback, so did I,” he said with a laugh. “Tell me about the coffee belt.”

  Ashby’s eyes squinted as she studied Jake before continuing. “The conditions for growing coffee are ideal in a band around the middle of the planet between the Tropics of Capricorn and Cancer. Some people call it the coffee belt, while others refer to it as the bean belt.”

  “Where is the Tropic of Cancer? Without this map thing turned on …” Jake was growing frustrated.

  “No worries, Captain. Once we pass Cabo San Lucas at the tip of Baja California, we’re going to cross over the Tropic of Cancer. It’ll be smooth sailing from there.”

  Jake thought for a moment and studied the instrument panel. “I’m sure this thing has some kind of autopilot, but I have no idea how to turn it on.”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t do that just yet,” said Ashby with a chuckle. “My vote is that we shut her down. You know, just kind of park out here for the night. Let’s see what tomorrow has to offer; then we’ll figure out how all of this works.”

  Jake reluctantly nodded and then set about the process of turning the engines off. He’d left the instructions on the sky bridge, so he worked from memory. The thought of dropping anchor crossed his mind, but he assumed he was in deep water, most likely beyond the reach of the ocean floor. Besides, he didn’t know what buttons to push to drop, much less retrieve, the anchor.

  So My Wet Dream was set adrift, with the only sounds emanating from her being the music from the MP3 player discovered by Ashby and, of course, the laughter after the two found the liquor locker.

  *****

  Mike slowed the Cobia and reached for the Riptide Marine Binoculars he’d picked up at Cabela’s years ago. Although they weren’t night vision, the 7x magnification and large fifty-millimeter lenses provided him ample light transmission to brighten images at night. The Riptide model was ideal for marine use, as they were nitrogen filled to prevent fog and condensation.

  An experienced boater, Mike immediately noticed when the yacht slowed and eventually stopped. He pulled back on the throttle and quickly cut the engines to avoid being detected by Jake.

  He’d already taken a risk by tracking them at night without his running lights on. One of his guys continuously monitored the horizon for oncoming vessels or stalled ships that might impede their pursuit of My Wet Dream. He didn’t want to ruin his plans for Jake and Ashby by running up on them too quickly. Mike was a patient man, and he’d bide his time until he could make his move.

  He cupped his hand to his right ear to focus his hearing on the yacht. He heard the music and occasionally heard voices coupled with laughter, which carried easily across the ocean’s surface. Mike immediately determined they’d stopped for the night rather than stalling or some other unforeseen malfunction. He smiled, comforted in knowing that Jake and Ashby had a false sense of security. His job would be much easier as a result.

  It was difficult to gauge the distance between the two vessels in the darkness that surrounded them, but Mike was ready to close the gap. With the sound of music blaring from the yacht, Mike wanted to take advantage of the opportunity by easing up on the yacht at idle speed. If he placed the Cobia properly, the waves would push them closer to the much larger motor yacht without the twin engines running. Then the three of them would quietly board the yacht and take care of business.

  Chapter 3

  The Pacific Ocean

  Off the coast of Morro Bay, California

  “Okay, I have to ask an obvious question,” began Ashby as she poured another shot of Gran Patron Platinum tequila. Ken Kennedy had spared no expense in stocking his onboard liquor cabinet. The only thing the yacht didn’t have was cold beer, but now that she was under power, the fridge was stocked with a variety, including their beloved Blue Moon Belgian White. “Would it be possible to live on board this boat, um, I mean motor yacht.”

  Jake walked around the spacious salon and then descended a few steps into the sleeping quarters. Both of the staterooms had full bathrooms and ample storage. The closets were filled with Ken’s clothes and women’s apparel in a size that would fit Ashby.

  Jake replied, “Well, the floor plan is bigger than my cabin at Yellowstone. Space is not a problem, and the thought of spending the next several months, or even years, living aboard something like this is appealing.”

  “I feel a but coming,” interrupted Ashby.

  “It
’s the logistics. A big issue is keeping it fueled. Secondly, we can’t live on seafood alone.”

  “Speak for yourself,” said Ashby as she chased her tequila shot with a swig of lukewarm beer. “I can eat my weight in oysters. Straight up, too. No crackers or horsey or Tabasco required. I’m not a wuss.”

  Jake started laughing and led her back up the steps toward the salon. “I don’t doubt that, but we’re not gonna find many oysters out here. I wanna look in the compartments below the salon, but I’ll bet there’s deep-sea fishing gear. Ken spared no expense in purchasing this yacht, as well as outfitting it. We just need to explore a little and see what it has to offer.”

  “Are you gonna answer my question?” Ashby persisted. “Admit it, there’s a certain allure to living on the open seas. Alone. Just the two of us. Right?”

  Jake turned to hug her. They kissed for a moment and then he laughed. “The tequila is talking.”

  Ashby playfully slugged his chest. “Maybe, but a girl can dream, can’t she? Come on, Jake, surely you’ve imagined living on a boat, or at least a deserted island, right? For heaven’s sakes, you went on Survivor because you liked the thought of, you know, surviving.”

  Jake laughed and took the tequila bottle from Ashby’s hand. He located the cap and closed it, much to Ashby’s chagrin.

  “Of course I did,” he continued. “As a kid, I watched all of the versions of Robinson Crusoe. I studied and analyzed the Cast Away movie. Heck, my favorite television show was Lost on ABC.”

  “I liked it too,” said Ashby. “I’ve always enjoyed survival thriller movies, I just never thought I’d be living in one.”

  “Well, I’m thinkin’ it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. In the movies, the main character always prevails and survives. Usually, that’s not the case.”