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

by Bobby Akart

  “What are you doing out here, Ken?”

  Jake hoped to confuse him, to at least give him an opportunity to explain, or run.

  Ken shuffled through the tall grass of the yard. “Who are you?” His voice slurred slightly. Jake was unsure if it was due to the late hour, or perhaps Ken had been drinking. As he got closer to Jake’s position on the sidewalk, he caught a whiff of Ken’s clothing, which provided him an answer. The man reeked of perfume and marijuana smoke.

  Jake, who was still holding the strap of the duffle bag, bent his knees slightly to drop the strap on top of the bag. As he rose back up, he drew his knife and tucked it against the bottom of his forearm.

  “It’s Jake. I’m doing recon tonight.”

  “Wheeler? That’s a load of bull. Recon? We don’t come outside the wall without my permission.”

  Jake began his lies to cover his tracks. “I don’t know, Ken. Mike told me to do it. I’m too new to questions things, right?”

  Ken emerged through the shrubs and nearly tripped over the gun bag separating him from Jake. “What’s this?”

  “Hey, it’s a surprise. I was gonna show you this tomorrow. While I was patrolling, I came across this bag down the street. It’s full of guns. Great find, right?”

  Ken knelt down and unzipped the bag. His left hand rooted around inside the bag. He slowly stood, keeping his weapon trained on Jake’s chest the entire time.

  “Well, Wheeler, I don’t believe that BS for a minute. I always suspected you offloaded your weapons somewhere before we let you in.”

  “Not true, Ken. You’re being paranoid.”

  Ken raised the gun towards head, then suddenly a woman’s voice called for him from the house.

  “Kenny? Are you okay? Come back inside with me.”

  He quickly glanced at Jake and then responded. “I’m fine. Gimme a minute while I talk to an old friend.” He inched forward so that the barrel of the gun was only a couple of feet away from Jake’s chest.

  Jake lowered his hands somewhat and began to laugh. “Hey, Ken. I don’t judge. What you are doing is none of my business. Why don’t you lower that gun and I’ll be on my way?”

  Kendall Kennedy then made a fatal mistake that so many do. He used his weapon as a pointing stick. He waved the gun from left-to-right, to add emphasis as he ordered Jake to move away from the bag.

  That’s all Jake needed. In the darkness, Ken never saw Jake’s left hand quickly back-slap the weapon further away from his body. The blow easily dislodged the handgun from Ken’s grip, sending it into the bushes.

  Despite being startled and possibly high, Ken had the presence of mind to lunge toward Jake. Their bodies collided causing the larger man to land on top of Jake as they crashed onto the sidewalk.

  Jake gasped for breath and lost his grip on the hunting knife. Ken saw this and attempted to climb over Jake to retrieve it, pinning Jake’s right arm down in the process. Jake tried in vain to reach his sidearm, not that he planned on using it. A gunshot on this quiet night would bring the guards of Fruitvale West running, potentially exposing his activities.

  As Ken scrambled past, Jake grabbed him by the leg and twisted it in an attempt to turn him over, causing both men to tumble into the grass. The effort was too late as he narrowly missed Ken’s attempt to stab him. The awkward effort threw Ken off-balance, which gave Jake an opening.

  He kicked Ken in the groin with his knee, and then added a punch to the belly. The combination knocked the wind out of Ken slightly, but he continued to grip the knife.

  Still holding the weapon, and hence maintaining the upper hand, Ken pounced on top of Jake again and attempted to force the knife into his throat. Jake held Ken’s wrists with both hands to prevent the deadly blow.

  Jake sensed that his attacker was tiring. The tide was turning. He was effectively forcing the knife back towards Ken’s chest. Throughout the struggle between the two men, Jake stared into Ken’s eyes and hatred returned the glare.

  Then, hatred turned to fear as Ken’s eyes widened. The blade was shifting despite his efforts to kill Jake. It was turning toward his chest until Jake let out a primal growl, a last effort, to end the battle.

  While Ken held the knife in a death grip, the six-inch blade plunged deep into his lung near his heart. In the last two weeks, Jake had killed and he’d seen those he loved die. But he’d never seen life leave a human body at that precise moment of death, until now.

  Jake rolled the bloody, dead body off of him and wiped his hands off on his pants. He had more blood on his clothing that Ken did.

  His heart was racing as he considered what to do. He illuminated the dial on his watch and saw that it was approaching four AM. He had a couple of hours before the sun would begin to rise. He wished he’d had longer.

  He decided to take Ken’s identification and hide his body. First, he took any jewelry off of him and threw into a storm drain. Then, he emptied his pockets of cash and his driver’s license. The cash went in his pocket, the license was flung into the storm drain.

  The hard part was next. Ken, unlike others in Fruitvale West, hadn’t lost any weight as a result of the apocalypse. That should have been a telltale sign to the neighbors that he and other members of the executive committee were living better than the rest.

  A heavyset man who hadn’t lost weight while supposedly on food rations, was cheating on his diet. Jake lifted the still bleeding body and slung it over his shoulder. He then cut through the houses and walked a thousand yards or more until he found an opportunity to hide it.

  Two blocks off of the main road, a house with a crawl space appeared. Jake dropped Ken onto the wet grass with a thud. He slowly slid the latch and opened the space underneath the home. He quickly shoved the body inside onto the dirt floor and shut the door behind it.

  Jake didn’t hesitate. He rushed back to the gun bag, and loaded it onto his shoulder realizing earlier it had felt extremely heavy, but it paled in comparison to the dead weight that was once Kendall Kennedy.

  PART FOUR

  We’ll know when it’s time to go.

  Chapter 37

  Fruitvale West

  Saratoga, California

  Jake stopped in the backyard of the home immediately behind his. He stripped off his clothes and rolled them inside out so that the blood wouldn’t soak through. Between his struggle with Ken, and the subsequent bleeding out of the dead man’s body as Jake carried him to the crawl space where it was unceremoniously dumped, every inch of his clothes was covered in blood.

  Wearing only his briefs, he shoved the clothing inside the duffle bag with the guns and quickly moved through his yard to the carriage house. Jake set the bag on the ground next to a propane gas grill which hadn’t been used in many years. The brittle cover, however, provided him a way to conceal the gun bag until he could get cleaned up and find a better solution. Moments later, he opened the rear sliding-glass doors and called out for Ashby.

  “Ashby! Are you awake?” Jake didn’t want to come any further into the house for fear that blood might drip blood onto the floor. His heart was racing as apprehension swept over him. Had he murdered Ken Kennedy? Was it truly self-defense? Or, did Jake invite a fight hoping for this result? Only he knew what was in his mind during those fateful minutes as the two men battled on the edge of the road. One thing for certain, he acknowledged, the good people of Fruitvale West would only see it one way—murder.

  “Ashby!” Jake yelled a little louder, and then immediately looked around the back of their house to see if anyone had heard him.

  “Jake, I’m coming!” She ran barefoot down the hallway and appeared at the door with her shotgun raised.

  “It’s okay. Put the gun down, but please, come here.”

  Ashby arrived and reached out to touch Jake’s bloody face but he quickly pulled back. “My god, are you okay? What happened?”

  Jake didn’t want to sugarcoat it. “I killed Ken.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I was headed ba
ck and he caught me on the street. We argued while he pointed a gun at me. There was a struggle. He got my knife and tried to kill me, but I fought back. Now, he’s dead.”

  “Are you hurt? Where are your clothes?”

  “No, but we have to act quickly. We need to wash this blood off and dispose of my clothes which are hidden in the gun bag. Ashby, they’ll come looking for me.”

  Ashby took a deep breath and exhaled. “Okay. You promise you’re not injured?”

  “Promise, just a hot mess of blood.”

  “No doubt about that,” she added. She pointed toward the side of the house and began walking in that direction. “Let’s get the water hose and rinse you off. Then, we’ll flood the ground so the traces of blood wash into the soil.”

  “Do you think the police will get involved, considering?”

  “They might in this case,” replied Ashby. “This is a wealthy neighborhood and they probably have some clout with local law enforcement. Otherwise, the cops might write it off as another casualty of the apocalypse.”

  A hint of sunlight could be seen in the east which caused them both to pick up their pace. After Jake was fully washed down, and the ground totally soaked, Ashby got him a towel and some Stanford sweat pants with a white tee shirt.

  “These are my fathers,” Jake observed.

  “Yeah, it’s the best we can do for now. If they come knocking early, you need to look like you just got of bed, not fully dressed.”

  Jake slipped on the sweats, despite the weird feeling it gave him to wear his father’s clothing. The next stop was the carriage house where they used the coming daylight to quickly remove the guns. After wiping off the traces of blood, he wrapped the entire contents in a beach towel and took the package to the attic space above the garage.

  Inside the darkened space were boxes of Christmas decorations, a few buckets of old home décor, and lots of pink Owens-Corning insulation. Jake smiled as he made the Pink Panther an accomplice by hiding the evidence under the blown fiberglass. If Inspector Clouseau led the CSI team searching the house, they’d have difficulty finding the weapons or the bag.

  The entire clean-up process took a little over an hour and it was nearly seven that morning when Jake and Ashby were finally able to relax. As the sun rose, the additional ash fallout became apparent as gusty winds from the Pacific Ocean began to blow it across the Bay Area.

  “Ashby, they’ll never believe my side of the story. We’ve got to go. Today.”

  “Please, calm down,” she said, attempting to lead Jake to the couch. “Jake, you need to sit down.”

  He was too hyped up. “I’m being serious. When they find his body, they’re gonna come looking for anyone who had a quarrel with him. They’ll look straight at me.”

  “You hid his id and jewelry, then took his money, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. It’ll look like a mugging gone bad.”

  “Except for one thing,” interjected Jake. “It wouldn’t make sense for a mugger who got in a knife fight with Ken to take the time to stash his body under a house. Only someone trying to cover up the crime would do that. Muggers kill and run.”

  “Jake, you’re overthinking it. Plus, who know when they’ll find the body.”

  “There’s also a possible witness. A girlfriend, I think. She called out to him during the confrontation.”

  “Did she see you?”

  “No.”

  “Then, she’s not a witness we need to be concerned with.”

  Ashby forcibly took Jake by the hand pulled him to the couch. He relented and sat down, propping his bare feet on the marble coffee table.

  Jake was exhausted. He’d not slept all night and between the struggle, the disposal of the body, and the overall stress related to what happened, his mind was a ball of mush.

  So, when the pounding came on their front door, it sent shock waves through his body.

  Chapter 38

  Fruitvale West

  Saratoga, California

  “Wheeler! Open up!” The pounding continued. The fist rapping on his door was different from someone stopping by to say hello or to deliver their daily box of rations. The hard thumping contained a sense of urgency and authority. Jake shot up off the couch and looked for his sidearm. Ashby was one step ahead of him. She handed him the weapon and instructed him to go the bedroom. She’d handle whoever was at the door.

  Ashby gathered herself and feigned sleepiness. She cocked the pistol in her right hand and tucked her arm behind her back. She slowly opened the door and greeted Mike, and two of his men who stood within the roof overhang to avoid the ash falling from the sky.

  “It’s a little early, isn’t it guys? Jake doesn’t have to report until eight today.”

  “We’ve got a problem. Can we come in?” asked Mike.

  “I’m barely dressed and Jake’s asleep. How does the problem involve Jake?”

  “Ken Kennedy is missing. He didn’t come home last night?”

  “Come home from where?” asked Ashby, before stating. “I understood him to say at the morning meeting that he was taking the night off.”

  “What he did last night doesn’t matter,” said Mike with a gruff. “We need all of our security guys to report immediately so we can organize a search.”

  “Search where?” asked Ashby, as she continued to elicit information from Ken’s right-hand man.

  “The entire neighborhood first, and then we’ll go outside the wall.”

  Ashby continued to stall. “Mike, why would Ken go outside the wall, at night, without anyone knowing his whereabouts. That doesn’t make—.”

  “Ma’am, that’s not for me to say,” Mike interrupted. “We’ve got to organize this search and I’m wasting time. Tell Wheeler to get out of bed and report to the club asap.”

  Ashby gently closed the door as she said, “we’ll do.”

  She fell back against the wall and exhaled. After wiping her sweaty palms off on her shorts, she slowly locked the bolt lock. Cursing the builder of the house for not installing a peep hole in the door, she walked briskly to the kitchen to look out the window to confirm Mike and his men had left. Before she could turn around, she was startled by Jake’s sudden appearance behind her.

  “Hey! You scared me, Jake!”

  “Sorry.”

  “You shouldn’t creep up on me when I’ve got a gun in my hand.”

  He took her in his arms and held her. Ashby was trembling. “I’m sorry for scaring you. And, I’m sorry for putting this stress on us. I never wanted this to happen.”

  She nodded and broke their embrace. “It’s okay. They don’t suspect anything. Mike is just as rude as his dead boss.”

  “He’ll be on a power trip, so I have to be extra careful,” said Jake. “I heard that I’m to report to the club. Let me get some food in me and I’ll get dressed.”

  “Jake, you’re like a zombie because of the lack of sleep.”

  He walked toward the refrigerator and looked inside. Of course, it was empty. So were the cupboards. Jake was not high enough on the totem pole to warrant more than a day’s worth of food. He found the last of the generic Corn Flakes and poured them in a bowl.

  “Are you going to Stephanie’s this morning?” he asked as he crunched the dry cereal in his mouth.

  Ashby set her gun down and rolled her head over her shoulders to release some tension. “I need to stay closer to her than ever. She’ll be worried and will look for someone to lean on. I’ll fulfill that role.”

  “That’s a good idea. I’ll try to be front and center in the search. Our best hope is to imbed with these people, so we can steer them away from me.”

  Ashby washed her hands and then sprinkled water on her face to freshen up. “I know your exhausted, but you’ve got to keep it together. A tired mind makes mistakes. Go through the motions, listen, and we’ll circle up here this afternoon.”

  *****

  While Jake took a shower, Ashby got dressed and left for Stephanie’s h
ouse. When she arrived, she found the front door open and voices coming from the kitchen.

  “I don’t know, Paulette,” said Stephanie. “I thought he was working with the security team last night.”

  “Honey, he said he was taking the night off,” said Paulette.

  “I know, but he changed his mind suddenly and said he wanted to scope out a possible business for the new team to hit next. When I tried to question him and suggest he stay with me, I got the usual response. If you wanna keep this roof over your head, you’ll let me do my job. That’s been his comeback for years.”

  Ashby cleared her throat as she approached the kitchen to announce her presence. She gave Stephanie her best Diane Sawyer concerned look and the distraught wife immediately responded. She pushed past Paulette and ran into Ashby’s arms where she broke down crying.

  Ashby looked over Stephanie’s shoulder at Paulette and smiled. The older woman seemed to understand that Stephanie didn’t need questioning right now, she needed empathy.

  “I’m going to leave you two alone,” she said to Ashby and Stephanie. “Don’t worry about attending today’s briefing. Our entire focus today will be on finding Ken. The residents who appear will be asked to assist.”

  Ashby mouthed the words thank you to Paulette who grimaced as she walked passed to leave. Ashby then whispered to Stephanie, “I’ll be right back.”

  Stephanie let go and slumped into a bar stool at the kitchen island. Ashby quickly followed Paulette to the door.

  “Paulette, excuse me.”

  “Yes?”

  “If Stephanie needs a sedative, may I come by the clubhouse and get her some?”

  “Of course, dear. See Mrs. Edwards, our nurse practitioner. She spends the day keeping up with our medical inventories and providing a list to our security teams. You know, a wish list of sorts.”

  “Okay, will you let her know that I’ll be coming by. I’ve never spent any time in the club and I don’t want to be a bother.”

  “Don’t you worry, Ashby. I’ll tell them you are an extension of Stephanie. They will provide you anything you want.”