by Bobby Akart
“Ashby, the models show the fallout coming towards us. Those rings around Yellowstone indicate a twelve-inch or thicker coating of Northern California before it’s over. Am I right?”
“Jake, I wish I had my satellite dishes to access the internet to conduct my own analysis. But based on what I’m seeing, the answer is maybe. So many factors have to be considered, such as wind and rainfall. Timing is also an issue. Our predictive models in the past always assumed a thirty-day eruptive process. Yellowstone is much bigger than we imagined. It might take longer.”
Jake sighed and handed over the remote to Ashby, who searched for the BBC network. She wanted to see how Europe was responding to the calamity.
He continued. “I guess I’m trying to get a handle on whether we should get comfortable here or not. If a foot of ash fallout is headed our way, not to mention the poisonous gases that are now circulating in the upper-level atmosphere, then we’ve got to look at this place as temporary.”
Ashby turned sideways on the sofa and took Jake’s hands. “I wish I could be more definitive. I vote we head into Maple Creek tomorrow and let me get internet access to NASA’s servers. Also, I’ll reach out to some of my colleagues and get their opinions.”
Jake gathered the energy to get off the couch. “All right, Dr. Donovan. Enough talk about the doomsday apocalypse. Let me introduce you to the Mad House and tell a story or two. Then we’ll open up a couple of cans of Spam and see if I can locate my father’s whisky stash. He never was a beer drinker, but he did have a taste for single-malt scotch.”
“Scotch and Spam will do in a pinch,” quipped Ashby as she reached her hand up to get Jake’s assistance off the feather-pillow-soft sofa cushion. “But I’ll take moonshine at this point.”
Jake walked her around the house and showed off the décor. “My mom hired a decorator from nearby Eureka to create a mountain-home feel without being too themey. Dad insisted it should not have a bunch of stuffed bears and deer on the walls. He didn’t want it to look like a lodge. I remember one Christmas, right after we bought the place, Mom bought him one of those talkin’ Billy Bass things. You know, the kind you hung on that wall and it began singing ‘Take Me to the River’?”
“I remember,” replied Ashby. “Annoying, but cute.”
“Yeah, it got old after a while. He made me hang it in the garage near the fishing-gear cabinet.”
Jake pointed into the master bedroom at the west end of the house. It was a large space with another stone fireplace, two walk-in closets, and a spacious master bath.
Ashby was impressed. “Well, Mr. Wheeler, a lady could get used to this.”
Jake laughed. “So could I. That’s why I wanna get a handle on the fallout threat.” He walked toward a bookcase, which flanked another outdated plasma monitor.
Ashby ran her fingers along the spines and read the names aloud. “Grisham. Cornwell. Patterson. Ludlum. Crichton. Look, even Stephen King. I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t read anything by that guy, especially out here in the middle of nowhere.”
Jake laughed. “Believe it or not, these are mainly props, although Mom liked to read. Watch this.”
He removed several Crichton novels and then slid a small panel to the side, which was concealed at the back of the bookcase. He pressed in the code 9-7-5-3. A click could be heard. Then Jake pressed on the end of the bookcase until it pushed in slightly and immediately sprang back.
Ashby folded her arms and chuckled. “Holy Batman!”
Jake pulled the bookcase open, revealing a hidden space that backed up to a spare bedroom. He found the light switch and turned it on, revealing the contents of the walk-in closet.
The walls were lined with weapons, and there were green ammunition cans stacked along the floor with tags identifying the caliber. Rifles, shotguns, and handguns were displayed around two sides of the cool, dark space.
“Dad was a gun guy, to say the least,” began Jake. “Here’s the thing, he rarely hunted, at least as far as I can remember. He just believed that we should have plenty of guns.”
“Was he paranoid?” asked Ashby.
“No, not paranoid. I wanna say he was hyperaware. He was born and raised in California and saw how society began to change. He never said it aloud, but I believe he always considered this place to be a place of refuge, a haven, in case something happened.”
Ashby walked in and looked around. “There are medical kits. Long-term food kits. Portable radios. Are you sure he wasn’t a prepper?”
“I guess, in a way, he was,” replied Jake. “I mean, he had the forethought to buy himself a place in New Zealand to live while the world collapsed around us.”
“I don’t think of preppers as being people like your parents,” said Ashby. “I think of a bunch of camo-wearin’, gun-totin’ conspiracy theorists who believe the apocalypse is right around the corner.”
Jake laughed as he brushed past Ashby toward a closed-door cabinet. “Well, maybe the preppers were right.”
“Good point,” she added. “What’s in there?”
Jake dropped to a knee and opened the doors, revealing the contents. On the shelves were a dozen bottles of Glenlivet twelve-year-old single-malt scotch whisky. Behind them was a small wall safe.
“Well, first we have the liquid gold,” said Jake as he pulled out several bottles of Glenlivet and handed them to Ashby. She set them on a shelf next to the rifles.
After the bottles were removed, another panel was revealed, which Jake moved to the side. A biometric keyboard was revealed. He punched in a four-digit-code representing his younger brother’s birthday and a green light lit up. Then he pressed his right index finger onto a glass reader. After a second, the light began to flash, signaling it was accepted. A series of clicks occurred and then the small vault door opened.
Ashby dropped to a knee and looked inside. Even in the low light of the secret closet, her wide eyes could see the contents.
“We’re rich,” she muttered.
Chapter 3
The Mad House
Near Maple Creek, California
Jake pulled out five gold-strapped bundles of hundred-dollar bills worth fifty thousand dollars and handed them to Ashby. Then he retrieved three wooden cases with clear glass tops. Each case held sixteen one-ounce gold bars issued by Credit Suisse. Prior to Yellowstone’s eruption, they had been valued at thirteen hundred dollars an ounce. Jake quickly did the math and determined the gold was worth over sixty thousand dollars or more if the news of financial markets collapsing was accurate.
They sat together cross-legged on the floor of the musty closet. Jake neatly arranged the gold bars where they could be counted, and Ashby mindlessly fluttered the bills with her thumb.
“Jake, you have to help me understand something. You and your parents had a falling out after you left college to be on Survivor. Your father cut you off emotionally, and later financially. For all of these years, you could’ve driven over here, opened this safe, and had nearly a hundred thousand dollars without anyone noticing. Why didn’t you?”
Jake hesitated and began to put the money and gold back in the safe. “For one thing, it wasn’t mine. The real reason, though, is I didn’t want it. I didn’t want anything from him. Ashby, as far as I’m concerned, he disowned me.”
“Disowned? Really?” she asked.
“Don’t get me wrong, I never heard those words come out of his mouth because, of course, we never spoke. I’m sure my mother heard it on more than one occasion.”
Jake put the money and gold back in the safe and closed it, leaving out one bottle of scotch.
Ashby was still curious. “Jake, I have to ask. Do you still feel the same way?”
He began laughing. “I really don’t know how I feel about them right now, but there’s one thing for certain. I’m holding in my left paw a bottle of scotch that was twelve years old when it was bought about fifteen years ago. That means its thirty years old now, which makes it even better.”
Ashby was skeptical. “I don’t think the
aging process works like that, but hey, who am I to argue. Scotch and Spam it is. You pour and I’ll cook. Deal?”
Jake gave her an impromptu kiss and helped her off the floor. “You are a keeper, Dr. Donovan.”
“Yes, I am.”
While Ashby prepared a meal of canned corn, green beans, and Spam, Jake kept their glasses filled with scotch and water. Before he approved the use of tap water, he conducted two separate purity tests, one was visual and the other with his handheld water-quality testers.
They allowed the water to run to clear the lines, and then they poured several clear glasses full. Jake was looking at the water’s turbidity—the amount of cloudiness or haze in the water. Then he used his water testers. Both provided a readout accuracy of plus or minus three percent, which Ashby agreed was sufficient to test for contamination.
After the water, which was sourced from the Humboldt Bay Municipal Water District, passed the test, they filled up several pitchers and tall glasses to place them in the refrigerator. They both agreed to clean the guest bathtub and fill it with water as well. Despite the fact a river was located near the Mad House, Jake and Ashby agreed it might not be drinkable for much longer.
They filled their plates, refilled their glasses, grabbed a kerosene lantern, and walked through the sparse forest to the river’s edge. The babbling of water over the river rocks grew louder as they got closer.
Two concrete picnic tables flanked a path of pea gravel that led into the water. After Jake swept away a thin layer of redwood tree needles off the bench seats and tabletop, they got settled in for their first cooked meal since the Pressleys’ farm in Oregon.
“This is incredible, Jake. I can see why you enjoyed this place.”
“When I was a kid, I came up here for the adventure. I guess you could say I was a typical boy who wanted to explore the woods, build tree forts, and play army. Only there wasn’t anyone to play with.”
“What about your younger brother?” Ashby asked.
Jake took a sip of scotch. “We were, and still are, polar opposites. I wanted to play outside. He wanted to play video games. I hunted and fished. He read books. I swear, he was my father’s offspring and my mom got knocked up by the mailman or something, producing yours truly.”
“Don’t say that,” said Ashby. “It appears your mom loves you very much.”
“I know. I’m too hard on her, I guess. I kept waiting for her to force my father and me together. When it didn’t happen, I misconstrued that as my mom choosing sides.”
Ashby reached out to Jake and squeezed his hand. “Maybe now would be a good time to read her email?”
“We’ve had a great night,” replied Jake. “I don’t want to ruin it.”
“You’re not gonna ruin it. Read it, Jake, and don’t assume the worst.”
Jake scooted his plate out of the way and brought the lantern closer to them. He pulled the folded-up email out of his pants pocket and began to read it.
“Well, the first part of this is directed at Mr. Barnett. It tells him to spare no expense in gathering as much food for us as he could find. Apparently, he has a credit card on file at the B and B that he used for expenses and upkeep of the house.
“She gives him her contact information in New Zealand and thanks him for his help, etcetera. Then she asked him to pass on the remainder of the email to me.”
“Do you wanna read it alone? If so, I totally understand.”
“No, I actually appreciate that you’re with me,” replied Jake. He adjusted himself on the concrete seat and placed his arms closer to the lantern so he could see.
“Jake, if you are reading this, I hope you and your new friend are safe. I have so many things I’d liked to say, but it is time for me to go.
“I knew it would’ve been impossible for you to join us on the flight to New Zealand. I want to apologize from the depths of my soul for your father’s attitude although I’m sure you aren’t interested in my apologies. I’ve failed you as a mother over the years, resulting in immeasurable emotional pain to you, and I’m truly sorry.
“You have every right to be angry at me and very hurt. I take total responsibility for my behavior over the years, and especially for not taking a stronger stance with your father. Son, I wish I could go back in time and do things differently, but this is real life and changing the past is not possible.
“I was so proud of you for forging ahead with your dreams despite your father’s insistence on following his path. I have watched every television appearance and documented all of your successes in a big scrapbook. It is with me today as we prepare to take flight.
“Over time, our lack of contact was counterproductive. I know this now. You rightfully held anger and resentment towards me because I should have been stronger. I have always loved you, and it made me physically ill to not be a part of your life.
“I cannot make up for the years we’ve been apart, but I’ve tried to do something to ease the challenges you will be facing. For years, a deed to the Mad House in your name has been sitting in your father’s safe. Last night, I made him call the attorney to send over a notary. He signed it and it is being sent to Eureka for recording.
“The Mad House and all of its contents are yours. I realize this doesn’t ease the pain you’ve suffered from our being apart. It’s all I could do under the circumstances.
“Jake, I have never stopped loving you, and I’ll worry about you while you are out west. It sounds like your new friend is a wonderful woman, and I look forward to meeting her. Soon, this disaster will pass, and I promise you, we’ll find a way to be close. Love, Mom.”
Jake folded up the email and put it back into his pocket. He muttered the words, “I love you, Mom,” as he wiped a few tears away. Then he turned to accept a hug from Ashby, who’d never be able to speak with her mother again. That was real loss.
Copyright Information
© 2018 Bobby Akart Inc. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of Bobby Akart Inc.
Table of Contents
Dedications
Acknowledgements
About the Author, Bobby Akart
Author’s Introduction to the Yellowstone Series
Epigraph
PART ONE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
PART TWO
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
PART THREE
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
PART FOUR
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
&n
bsp; Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Bonus Excerpt from YELLOWSTONE: FALLOUT
Copyright Information