by Bobby Akart
He counted again. Nine? Yes, nine.
He yelled to Ashby. “Turn on the headlights! Be ready!”
Jake’s body tensed as he approached his previous kills. One man, who’d been struck in the knees was still moaning in pain. Jake put him out of his misery with a bullet to the head.
He continued along the sides of the vehicles in search of any hidden convicts. Satisfied with the current batch of kills, he switched on the shotgun’s rail-mounted tactical flashlight and illuminated the road. He methodically cleared both sides of the silt fencing and the area around the track hoe. He purposefully avoided the use of the flashlight during the fight, so he didn’t give away his position.
Several minutes later, Jake was satisfied that the killing field was clear.
He returned to the motor home where Ashby waited inside. She immediately hugged him the moment he stepped onto the landing.
“Thank goodness you’re okay,” she whispered in his ear. She was breathing heavily, still amped-up from the gun battle.
Jake broke their embrace and looked her in the eyes. “Thanks for having my back, again.”
“Jake, I wanna take on the world with you. I’ll always have your back.”
Chapter 19
CA-12
Rio Vista Junction, California
As much as Jake wanted to fire up the Bounder and get away from the dead bodies, they were still blocked in. He and Ashby had been vigilant about watching their surroundings. Jake’s assumption about the number of convicts mounting the assault against them was accurate, but he wouldn’t be entirely comfortable until he was far away from the slaughter.
Before he undertook to clear the road of the dead bodies and stalled vehicles, he had to determine whether he could move the track hoe out of the way. It didn’t take more than ten seconds to see the mess of wires hanging from the machine’s operation panel. Jake had never hot-wired a vehicle and experimented with several different combinations of wires in an attempt to spark the ignition.
Nothing worked.
His next thought was to move the mini-excavator or drive along the shoulder as the convicts had done when they escaped with the last two vehicles in line. The motor home was much wider than a car, and he hoped there would be room to back out.
However, after stepping off the width, and taking into consideration he’d have to back the motor home and sandrail out in reverse, this idea was scrapped.
Incredibly, no other vehicles had come upon them during the melee or in the fifteen minutes after the last shots were fired while Jake assessed their options. As he and Ashby walked along the highway, stepping over the dead, they considered waiting until the police arrived.
“Without cell phone service, there’s no way to call for help,” began Ashby. “And, there’s no way we’re going to walk back to Vacaville in the dark. There may be more of these guys around here.” She kicked at an arm mutilated by Jake’s shotgun blast as they walked by.
“I’m really torn about leaving,” added Jake. “Listen, don’t get me wrong. I was a sworn law enforcement officer and all that. But my blood didn’t run true blue like good cops. It was just a job for me. Still, I’m having trouble walking away from a crime scene like this without involving the police.”
“I understand, Jake, but I want you to consider something. Of course, we’re not guilty of anything. The police will need to conduct a full investigation. They’ll want to bring us in to make a statement. This is not like a car accident where the cop fills out some paperwork and we’re sent on our way.”
Jake nodded as he peered over the silt fencing on the north side of the highway. A long trench ran from one end to the other as the Highway Department was in the process of laying new sewer lines. He shook his head and led Ashby to the other side of the highway.
“Not to mention,” he added. “They are going to search our motor home. Ashby, we have over a dozen weapons, several thousand rounds of ammo, and stacks of hundred-dollar bills.”
“Don’t forget the gold,” she said with a chuckle. “Right?”
“Exactly,” he replied. “Apocalypse or not, they’re gonna think we’re running drugs, confiscate our weapons, and money, and maybe even us. I’m not willing to risk losing everything by being a law-abiding citizen.”
Jake stepped on top of the silt fence so that Ashby could step over with him. He flashed his light toward the back of the Bounder and followed the open trench until it disappeared in the darkness. He then turned his attention into the other direction and began walking forward toward the track hoe.
“Ashby! Look!” exclaimed Jake as he jogged forward. “I didn’t notice this before. It’s a crossover. They left this part of the ground undisturbed, so the heavy equipment could go back and forth.”
After she joined him, they both turned back toward the road and looked at the cars and bodies which littered the road.
“If we move the bodies, I think you can squeeze by,” said Ashby. “Is the crossover wide enough?”
“It’s wide enough for that thing,” said Jake, pointing to the track hoe. “Let’s get started!”
They worked together to pull up the wooden stakes holding the silt fencing in place. Jake took the job of pulling the dead convicts out of the way while Ashby found towels or blankets to reverently cover the faces of the innocent motorists who’d been bludgeoned to death.
She reached the lead vehicle and covered the body of a dead man when she glanced in the back seat of his sedan. There was a car seat and a sippee cup that she picked up. It was slightly chilled and smell of apple juice. On the floorboard of the car was stuffed, floppy-ear elephant. She grabbed it and crawled back out of the back seat and looked for Jake. He’d just rolled the last of the bodies into the open trench.
“Jake! I think there might be a child missing!”
He ran to join her and began flashing his light around the track hoe and into the field. They both ran back to the earthen crossover and into the open area where the wind turbines continued to operate, ignoring the drama unfolding beneath them.
They began canvassing the field and shouting for the survivors. That’s when they made a gruesome discovery. The mother had been chased down and bludgeoned until she died.
“I think there’s a child, too.” Ashby handed the stuffed elephant to Jake. He lifted it to his nose and inhaled its scent. It smelled like innocence.
He looked around. “Hello! Are you out here? My name is Jake.”
Ashby joined in. “My name is Ashby. We can help you! Please let us know if you are okay.”
They both stopped and strained to listen above the constant whirling of the massive propeller-like blades turning above them.
Ashby walked forward alone, focusing. She remembered being alone on that day at the base of Mount Pinatubo. She remembered how she felt upon the realization her parents were gone, forever.
Then she abruptly stopped. She closed her eyes and focused all of her senses on listening.
“We’re over here,” said a young girls voice with a whimper.
Chapter 20
CA-12
Rio Vista Junction, California
Ashby raced through the darkness to the source of the young girl’s voice. Her legs swished through the tall grasses, confident that nothing would reach up to grab her, or cause her to trip. Just like her mother would’ve done for her, if she could have, Ashby sought to comfort the frightened child. Within seconds, she found herself at the base of a wind turbine. She slowed her pace in order to avoid scaring the children. A girl of seven was clutching her younger sister who appeared to be three or four years old. Both of them were trembling, but the tears had dried up.
“Hi, girls. My name is Ashby. What are yours?”
“I’m Sarah,” began the older child. “This is my baby sister, Charity.”
Ashby dropped to one knee and smiled. She wanted the children to feel comfortable. Just as she was about to speak, Jake arrived and the girls clutched one another nervously.
&n
bsp; “It’s okay, girls. This is my friend, Jake. He’s a policeman and a hero. Don’t be afraid.”
Sarah nodded but the younger girl stared off into the dark field. Ashby immediately determined the child was experiencing traumatic shock. Jake leaned down to whisper to Ashby.
“I think I can get through now. The field is dry enough, and flat. I believe we can drive through it until we can find a spot to get back on the highway. Can you determine where they live?”
Ashby turned to the girls. “Sarah, we do you girls live?”
“Rio Vista.”
“Do you have any other family there besides your parents?”
“Grandma. She lives at our house with us.”
“Is she there now?”
“I think so.”
Ashby turned to Jake and nodded. He rose up and sprinted across the field toward the motor home. Within minutes, he’d started the motor and was inching his way along the shoulder until he could maneuver the rig over the crossover. Ashby and the girls watched Jake’s progress until she started to explain.
“Girls, there has been an accident and your parents have been hurt. Jake and I are going to take you home to be with your Grandma, okay?”
“What about Mommy and Daddy?’
Ashby began to well up in tears. She had to keep it together in order to protect the girls from the reality. A reality she knew all too well.
Young Charity had curled up into a fetal position in her older sister’s arms and began sucking her thumb. Ashby reached out and tried to give her the stuffed elephant but the child didn’t respond. Instead, Sarah took it from her.
“Girls, your parents are going to be taken care of. Do you believe in God?”
Sarah responded. “Yes, we say our prayers every night and go to church.”
“Good. I want you to know that God will take good care of your parents. They love you very much and God knows that you’ll be strong, okay?”
Sarah began to sniffle as tears rolled down her cheeks. Like Ashby, she was seven as her parents were taken violently away from her. They didn’t actually see the act, but they knew their parents’ fate the moment it happened. Ashby had never gotten over it, nor would Sarah and her baby sister.
Jake pulled closer in the motor home and left it running as he came out to load the girls up. Ashby took Sarah by the hand and led her to the Bounder while Jake scooped up Charity and followed behind.
Ashby made room for the girls on the bench seat in the living area and sat between them so they both could be wrapped in her arms. Jake carefully drove through the field to avoid any debris or ruts. Within minutes, they were on the highway for the fifteen-minute drive to Rio Vista.
After a few minutes of silence, Sarah looked up to Ashby and asked, “Where do they go?”
Ashby couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. She didn’t know the answer to that question herself. For so long, she lashed out. Angry that her parents were taken from her. She even became disillusioned with her faith.
She hugged Sarah a little closer and began with five simple words.
“Jesus called them to Heaven.”
Chapter 21
Rio Vista, California
It was well after midnight when Jake and Ashby had finished speaking with the children’s grandmother and a next-door neighbor who was a close friend of the deceased parents. The small town, located on the extreme east end of Solano County, had little police presence and the neighbor advised them that the sheriff’s office had all but abandoned patrols over the last week. Jake apologized for their need to leave but, without disclosing their final destination, and knowing cell service was down across the region, offered they’d be available by cell phone in case the authorities had questions.
Jake and Ashby crossed the Sacramento River without much conversation between them. They were physically and mentally exhausted from the attack, and the thought of traveling the final ninety miles into Saratoga and Fruitvale West was daunting, but they continued nonetheless.
They chose to make their way back to the interstate for the final stretch. Their theory that the backroads, which naturally avoided more populated areas, was safer turned out to be mistaken. At least in this part of California.
Once they picked up Interstate 680 at Walnut Creek, they once again found themselves in bumper-to-bumper traffic which required them to continuously dodge stalled vehicles. The presidential address regarding other countries taking in American refugees had the effect of uprooting families throughout the Pacific Northwest and sending them toward the Mexican border.
The overnight radio broadcasts described the masses of humanity fleeing the United States. All methods of transportation were being utilized from vehicles, to bicycles, horses, and each person’s feet. Homes and belongings were abandoned. Businesses were shuttered. Government offices were closed. America had come to a standstill.
Scientists reported that the ash fallout had officially circled the Northern Hemisphere. The first evidence appeared along the Washington coastline and began moving inland across Central Oregon and dipping down into Northern California. Ashby commented that as Yellowstone continued to spew its venom, the fallout could possibly fall in thicker layers toward the lower latitudes, including where they were headed.
“In other words, we’re still not far enough south to avoid it,” said Jake in disbelief.
“Every inch of the United States is subject to receiving fallout. It may be less than an inch in places like South Florida and along the Mexican border, but this minute amount can still damage equipment and destroy crops. Respiratory failure will continue to be a problem for those who are susceptible like children, the elderly, and smokers. All livestock and wildlife are at risk.”
Jake shook his head in disbelief. “I won’t plan on getting comfortable in Fruitvale.”
Ashby reached over and he met her halfway so he could hold her hand. The slow-moving traffic, even at four in the morning, didn’t require two hands to drive. “The best chances to avoid the fallout are between the Tropics of Cancer and Capricorn.”
“Refresh my memory, Dr. Geologist,” said Jake with a chuckle as he took his hand back. He decided to change lanes as the middle merge lane began to pick up speed.
“Twenty-three degrees, more or less, north and south latitudes. In the northern hemisphere, the Tropic of Cancer runs from the tip of Baja Mexico through the heart of the Caribbean to Northern Africa. In the Southern Hemisphere, the Tropic of Capricorn runs through the center of South America and stretches across to bisect Australia.”
“What about New Zealand?” asked Jake.
“Your family is in a pretty good spot, I would say,” replied Ashby. “Frankly, they are about as far away as one can get from Yellowstone.”
“Bully-bully for them, and all that rot,” said Jake sarcastically in a poorly executed British-English dialect.
“Maybe,” said Ashby with a chuckle. “As long as Taupo doesn’t act up.”
“Who?” asked a confused Jake.
“Never mind,” replied Ashby. “I haven’t been paying attention to the map or the GPS. I assume you remember the way to your house.”
“Yeah. I’m not going through the heart of San Jose, but rather along the south side on the G10. That’s the state’s designation for one of the twenty-one county roads in the San Jose area. It’s complicated because most locals call it Blossom Hill Road but Google maps used to show it as the G10.”
Ashby looked out the side windows at the deserted streets as Jake drove atop an overpass. She wondered how many people had fled south already. Her mind wandered to her travels. She’d been on every continent and visited nearly forty countries as part of her research. Most of the world’s most dangerous volcanoes were far away from population centers, except those in the U.S.
Americans built homes and businesses without regard to the dangers that natural disasters posed. In the quest to have a waterfront property, they’d build houses on beaches, or river banks, not thinking of the hazardou
s flooding which could overtake them.
The eruptions of volcanoes were few and far between on the mainland, but that was not true on the Big Island of Hawaii. Yet, neighborhoods were built near Mauna Loa and Kilauea, only to be swallowed by molten lava as it made its way to the ocean.
Then, there was the threat of tsunamis. Once again, coastal developments, or any low-lying area, could be wiped out by a massive tsunami triggered by underwater earthquakes or volcanic activity. These threats don’t keep most Americans up at night, but the thought of nuclear Armageddon scares the wits out of them.
It was human nature to seek safety and comfort. Ashby was no different. As they learned the night before, no place was truly safe anymore unless they were on a deserted island. The last time Ashby checked, there weren’t many of those anymore, unless they’d been recently created by volcanic activity. Even if she found one, she was pretty sure Jake wouldn’t go for it.
In the meantime, they’d try to make Jake’s childhood home, their home, for as long as they could.
“Almost there,” said Jake with a sigh. “You know, I haven’t been back here since the I left for Survivor. It feels kinda weird.”
“Passing out in bed won’t feel weird,” quipped Ashby. “I’ve never been so tired before.”
Jake made the final turn toward the entrance of the neighborhood just as the sun was rising in the east behind them. The steadily increasing light cast a golden glow on this part of the Golden State, something they both noticed.
Ashby laughed. “Well, if I didn’t know better, we’d arrived at the end of the rainbow. Do you think a pot of gold awaits?”
Jake drove along the eight-foot tall brick wall which surrounded the community. Solar powered lanterns, the brightness of their light fading after working all night without the power of the sun to recharge them, adorned the columns. Jake slowed as several stranded cars blocked Saratoga-Los Gatos Road, forcing him to ease the motor home onto the wrong side of the street.
