by Bobby Akart
Many speculated he had set his sights on higher office, maybe a seat on the Santa Clara County Board of Supervisors. In reality, Ken simply didn’t want to push his luck. He’d procured everything he needed, including a home just outside the neighborhood for a new mistress who was both convenient and ready.
Then, along came the apocalypse. Ken was furious that the life he’d set up for himself was about to be derailed by the eruption of Yellowstone. Then the wheels began to spin. He joked with his mistress the night of the eruption by saying, “If you can’t be king of the world, at least be king of your little part of it.”
The next day, he hustled to the Van Halen’s home and began laying the groundwork for the HOA’s taking control of all aspects of Fruitvale West. He cautioned that if they attempted to set things in place too early, naysayers would push back and the plan wouldn’t work.
At first, the Van Halens, who’d been an integral part of the Fruitvale West HOA for a decade, were skeptical. When Ken explained they’d have the ability to control the destiny of the entire neighborhood, they began to warm to the idea.
Ken didn’t want to be the face at the top of the control structure. He wanted to handle security and procurement, as he called it. The streams of commerce interested him the most. As is typical of any nation or government when elites take power, their lives were enhanced to the detriment of those they control. Fruitvale West was no exception.
When Ashby arrived at the Kennedy’s home for the first time that morning finding the front door slightly ajar, she walked into luxury. The furnishings, coupled with the smell of eggs and bacon cooking, and fresh coffee brewing, stood in stark contrast to the box of dry cereal, canned deviled ham, and Dole pineapple rings which had been allocated to the Wheeler home that day.
Stephanie, wearing a blue-striped apron from Williams-Sonoma, scurried out of the kitchen when Ashby announced herself. She held one finger to her lips and briskly motioned for Ashby to join her.
“Ken is still sleeping,” she said in a hushed tone. “They had a late night.”
Ashby nodded and followed her into the oversized kitchen full of Sub Zero appliances and copper cookware hanging from the ceiling. “I heard. Was Ken pleased with the results?”
“Wait,” began Stephanie. “Do you know about the run, as Ken calls it? Was Jake part of it?”
“Yes. You didn’t know?”
“Uhm, no. Ken doesn’t tell me things, you know, for my own protection,” she replied as she continued to stir the eggs. “The thing is. I trust him and he reminds me as long as our refrigerator is full, I don’t need to bother him with his business.”
Ashby looked around at the kitchen. Nobody would know the apocalypse was upon them. Stephanie continued.
“Pour yourself some coffee. There’s creamer in the fridge, or milk, if you’d prefer.”
Ashby opened the refrigerator and saw produce, dairy products, and steaks which were thawing on a plate. She tried to control her anger and bite her tongue.
“Thank you, Stephanie.” Ashby fixed a mug of coffee and sat at the kitchen bar. Stephanie filled their plates with food and sat one in front of Ashby. For a moment, she stared at the plates of eggs, toast, and bacon as if unsure what to do. She hadn’t seen a hot meal like this since Jake’s cabin at Yellowstone — over two weeks ago.
“Oh, heavens. My apologies, Ashby. We need silverware.” Stephanie wiped her hands and rummaged through a drawer until she produced the utensils. Then she retrieved a couple of jars of Bonne Maman strawberry preserves from the refrigerator.
Ashby was hungry, but also felt guilty, in a way. Jake deserved this breakfast, not her. Then again, neither did the Kennedys. She was getting a clear picture of what power at Fruitvale West afforded those who held it.
Chapter 34
Fruitvale West
Saratoga, California
“Ladies and gentlemen, please. May I have your attention, so we can get started?” asked Paulette as she brought the meeting to order. Jake had just arrived and was the only person donning an N95 mask. He waved to Ashby who was standing near the front of the group next to Stephanie. She fell back and kissed him on the cheek before putting on her mask. Several people in the group noticed the masks and looked skyward, swatting at the bits of ash as it fell from the sky. It was an odd sight as the sun was shining brightly, but the wispy ash fallout resembled snow flurries. It had just begun.
“I’m pleased to announce that Ken and his team had a very successful run last night, but the challenges we face are still there. This afternoon, the executive committee is going to discuss increasing the frequency and reach of our scavenging operation but that will only be possible with your help. I’d like to turn this over to Ken Kennedy for a moment before bringing you the news of the day. Ken.”
Ken stepped forward and searched the crowd of over forty people. He made eye contact and furrowed his brow when he noticed Jake. The masks they were wearing may have garnered his attention.
“Thank you, Paulette. Everyone, it’s quite simple, really. We need warm bodies. The opportunities beyond our borders here at Fruitvale West are there, but without people to help, we have to limit our runs to every other night and one location at a time. Now, I’m prepared to split our leadership team into two groups, but somebody has to step up to help load up the provisions.”
“I’d like to help, but in the past you haven’t allowed women,” said a voice to Jake’s left.
“That’s changed now. As we learned last night, loading the van requires more than lifting and carrying heavy case goods. There are plenty of valuable items sitting on store shelves which can be loaded into shopping baskets and placed in the back of the trucks. Anyone who is moderately athletic can fill this need.”
A man’s hand shot up toward the front of the crowd. “Previously, you said your runs were limited by the fact you only have one delivery truck to use. Has that changed?”
“Well, thanks to our newest resident, Jake Wheeler, we have his motor home which exceeds thirty feet in length. It will allow us to bring home just as many supplies as the delivery truck does. Let’s give Jake a round of applause for volunteering his vehicle.”
Sporadic clapping broke out as heads swiveled to look for Jake. Ashby leaned in to Jake and asked, “Did you volunteer the Bounder?”
“Nope.”
“What are you gonna do?” she whispered.
“Let it go, for now.”
Ken continued. “I must be blunt. Our food supplies are dwindling faster than originally projected. Frankly, we expected some people to head south or leave the community to join other family members. That hasn’t happened, so we’re forced to increase our runs. If enough people don’t volunteer, then I am afraid our situation will become dire sooner than we thought.”
The crowd began to mumble to one another, loud enough that Paulette had to step in and calm them.
“Do understand, everyone, that is Ken’s job to be brutally honest. Please, consider the importance of what he does and volunteer yourselves for the good of the community.”
Ashby whispered into Jake’s ear again. “The Kennedys live like nothing ever happened. Their refrigerator is fully stocked. Jake, I had scrambled eggs, bacon, toast and coffee for breakfast.”
Jake scowled as he soaked in her words. He reached for her hand and squeezed it.
Ken spoke up, adding one final thought. “We will not be making a run tonight so I can put together a second team and get them ready. Again, its vital that people see me after the meeting and join in this endeavor. Our lives depend upon it. Thank you.”
He stepped out of the way and Joe Van Halen took the lead. “Okay. Thank you again, Ken. There are two important pieces of news to pass along to you. Well, three actually. First, as you can see, we are beginning to experience the ash fallout for the first time. Communities in Northern California have received as much as eighteen inches of fallout which emanated directly from the Yellowstone volcano.
“What you see this
morning has traveled around the globe. It’s remarkable really, but you should be aware that this ash can be potentially harmful to your lungs. We are suggesting that you remain indoors except when you are performing your community functions. When outside, please place a scarf or handkerchief over your mouth and nose. This is for your own safety. I know some of us have masks and will begin wearing them. Ken has assured me that the next run will focus on food and medical supplies, including masks for as many people as possible.”
“I guarantee there is a pecking order as to who receives those masks and who doesn’t,” said Ashby. “I’m glad we stuffed ours in the cargo pockets of your pants when we came in.”
Joe continued. “Second, both California and Washington, DC have declared states of emergency. Our government has prepared for all types of threats, including this one. Their resources, like ours, however, are limited. That said, I’m pleased to announce that food distributions are scheduled to begin this afternoon at the FEMA headquarters in downtown Oakland.”
Several residents began shouting questions at Joe.
“Can we go?”
“What are they handing out?”
“What time and where?”
“Yes. Yes,” interrupted Paulette. “You all have questions. Here’s what we know. This afternoon at five, FEMA trucks will open up to distribute food packages and bottled water on a first come, first serve basis. The location is 1111 Broadway in downtown Oakland.”
Paulette continued but Jake whispered to Ashby. “I assure you, downtown Oakland, as night sets in, is the last place these people need to be.”
“Why would she encourage them?” asked Ashby.
Jake shrugged as Paulette continued.
“We do urge all of you, including children, to get in line as most likely the allotment will be based upon size of family. However, I want to remind you that our gates will close before dusk, around eight-thirty, so get back before then.”
“They’ll never make it back,” said Jake dryly.
“Is it that far away?’ asked Ashby.
“Not that. I mean, they’ll never make it back, period.”
Ashby scowled and studied Jake’s look of concern. She was about to ask what he meant when Joe wound up the briefing.
“The last thing on the agenda is additional good news. Our California Highway Patrol has opened all freeway lanes to direct traffic exclusively southbound. Further, Sacramento has released California’s strategic fuel reserves to be used by the public. Service plazas and gas stations immediately adjacent to Interstate 5 are being continuously refueled to allow families to head south toward Mexico and ultimately to South America.”
Pauline stepped in. “We believe that this is viable alternative for anyone who is uncomfortable with the newly arrived ash fallout and the myriad of health concerns that entails. If you have considered South America as an option, now would be the time to join the exodus.”
Jake shook his head. “They’re purging.”
“What?” asked Ashby.
“They’re culling the herd by sending weak families who can only survive if given a handout to downtown Oakland late in the day, knowing full well some might not make it back. They’re encouraging others to leave altogether by traveling thousands of miles to some perceived utopia in South America.”
Ashby locked her arm through Jakes and squeezed. “I get it. They know this is not sustainable with the present number of residents, so they’re shipping them off to another location.”
“Or, to slaughter, in Oakland.”
Chapter 35
Fruitvale West
Saratoga, California
Jake took advantage of the changes Ken was making in his security team and routine. Several new faces had appeared at the end of Jake’s patrol shift that afternoon. They’d volunteered to assist in the runs and some agreed to work community patrols, freeing up those guards for beyond the wall operations. Ken scowled at Jake as he checked in his assigned weapon at the clubhouse that afternoon.
Earlier in the day, Ken demanded to know where he and Ashby had obtained the particulate masks they began wearing that morning. Jake innocently replied they were in his pockets and thought nothing of it. When Ken demanded they be turned over to the community, Jake refused creating yet another rift between the two men, not that they needed one.
As Jake walked away, he heard Ken advise his charges that he planned on taking a much needed and a self-proclaimed, well-deserved evening off. The new people, men and women alike, were assigned to Mike that night to get their feet wet by patrolling the neighborhood.
Jake picked up his step as he saw this evening as a perfect opportunity to go over the wall and retrieve the last of their weapons. It would take two trips, but with Ken out of the way, and Mike preoccupied with newbies, the conditions were ideal to remain undetected.
Just after eleven, when most of the neighbors had turned in for the night, Jake kissed Ashby and snuck through the woods leading toward the Saratoga Historical Park established by the Blaney estate. The westernmost corner of the community was secluded and made his trip over the wall easier than his previous excursion to retrieve the money.
By one in the morning, he’d returned with his M-16 and ammo, his most prized weapon. The ease prompted him to make another run, but Ashby objected.
“Jake, we already have more guns than we need. Another trip outside doubles your chances of getting caught.”
Jake paced the floor as he considered this as well, but he voiced his reasoning. “With the ash falling, it will become more difficult around here. Their supplies are limited, in part due to the number of mouths to feed and also because the top dogs have their bowls too full. If we make the decision to go, even on short notice, I want to have everything here and ready.”
Ashby countered. “Do you have enough ammo for the additional weapons?”
“We have ammo for those out there, but not necessarily for my father’s, unless its stored some place that I can’t find. It would make sense for him to separate his cache of the two, but then again, he may not have bothered to buy ammo. Either way, it won’t hurt.”
“What if you get caught?”
“I’ll tell them I went on a beer run. There’s no rule that says I can’t leave their precious community. I can handle it.”
Ashby seemed unconvinced and wrapped herself in her arms. Jake came to her side and tried to reassure her.
“Also, I want to check on the sandrail. I need to make sure it remains a transportation option for us. Obviously, we’ve lost the motor home. The Mustang could still work but it will have difficulty the more ash fallout we have to deal with.”
Ashby nodded. “We’re going to leave, aren’t we?” Her eyes began to well up in tears.
“Hey. Hey. I don’t know that for certain, but its my job to keep our options open. I don’t trust the people who run this place and it’s just a matter of time before these midnight raids on local businesses hit a snag.”
“I wish you didn’t have to make them,” said Ashby.
“Trust me. I don’t like it either. Ken’s reckless, especially with people he doesn’t like, me especially. The problem is they have no choice. That explains their efforts to step up the runs to nightly, while doubling the teams.”
“And encourage people to leave,” added Ashby. “Today, six more elderly residents were placed on the list for transport to the local hospital. At every turn, the executive committee finds a reason to eliminate their neighbors.”
“Think of this Ashby, they could knock on our door one evening and banish us. You know, last in, first out. If we leave, its gonna be on our terms, not theirs.”
She nodded and kissed him. “Be careful and hurry home to me. Hopefully, this will be the last time you have to go out there unless it’s the two of us leaving together.”
“Roger that,” said Jake with a laugh.
“Oh, I love it when you talk all sexy and military-like,” she cooed.
Jake slapped her on th
e backside and slipped out through the sliding door. He was dressed in jeans and a black tee shirt. He carried his sidearm in a paddle holster and his Morakniv knife was again a constant fixture strapped to his right leg. With a renewed sense of purpose, Jake quickly headed toward the west to cross Saratoga – Los Gatos Road where the last of the weapons were hidden, and the sandrail was parked.
He checked the sandrail first and was pleased that it had not been disturbed. The two cans of gasoline were still hidden in the shrubs behind the home’s garage. Next, he hustled down to the roll-off dumpster where he hid the remaining weapons and ammo. He quickly filled the olive drab green duffle bag which had served them so well during their escape from Yellowstone. The bag weighed over seventy pounds but Jake’s adrenaline-fueled body had no trouble toting it down the tree-lined sidewalk adjacent to Fruitvale West.
He was about to cross the street to run up a set of stone stairs built into a retaining wall when a voice bellowed at him from the front yard next to him.
“Stop right there!”
Jake immediately froze and turned his body to the sound of the voice so that his right side was shielded from view. He slowly began to slip the bag of weapons off his shoulder and onto the sidewalk.
“Nice and easy, pal!” the man shouted.
Jake processed the man’s words and demeanor. The use of the word pal triggered something inside his head. Something familiar.
Chapter 36
Fruitvale West
Saratoga, California
At this hour, the streets were empty of traffic and Jake was totally caught off guard by the man who confronted him on the sidewalk. He heard the click of the hammer on a pistol. He was caught dead to rights and there was little he could do but comply with the man’s orders. The guns hit the ground with a clank and as they did, he recognized the voice.