All At Stake - A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Thriller (Lights Out in Vegas Book 1)

by Sean Patten

  But I didn’t.

  “Shit,” I said under my breath. “Where the hell’s the waitress?”

  I looked around, spotting not a single employee even looking like they were on their way over. And the place was hardly packed.

  “I don’t think we get a waitress,” said Steve.

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  Steve chuckled and reached for something tucked in between the napkin and condiments on the side of the table.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  He held it up, showing me the electronic screen.

  “It’s a tablet,” he said with a grin. “I know you’re about one step away from living off the grid, J, but I’d think you’d recognize one when you saw it.”

  “I know what it is,” I said. “But why’s it on the table. Did someone leave it here?”

  “Nope,” he said, turning it back around and swiping the screen. “Look.”

  He turned it back towards me. A menu was on the screen.

  “We order from this thing,” he said. “Then they bring it to us.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I asked. “We don’t even get a server?”

  “Now, I’d think you’d be all about that, bro,” he said, his eyes on the screen. “Fewer people to talk to this way.”

  “I don’t mind talking to people,” I said, though it wasn’t quite the truth. “Just don’t like crowds. And this is just weird. How long before we’re spending all our days inside, having packages shipped to us, going out and talking to freaking computers when we need anything?”

  “Way of the future, bro,” he said. “And check this out.”

  He turned the menu back towards me and pointed to the words on the bottom of the screen.

  “NO CASH. CREDIT CARD ONLY, PLEASE.”

  “Aw, are you kidding me?” I moaned.

  “Looks like this dinner’s on me,” Steve said.

  “Fine,” I said. “But I’m taking you out to breakfast or something in the morning.”

  “Assuming you don’t wake up with someone and decide to order something in bed,” he replied with a grin.

  “Not going to happen.”

  Steve flicked his eyes back down to the screen.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’m getting the salmon. What do you want?”

  I reached over and took the tablet from his hands.

  “I can order my own damn food,” I said.

  “Sure, sure,” he said. “But get me a beer. And something good—not that domestic crap.”

  “What’s wrong with the domestic crap?” I asked as I tried to navigate my way through the menu, hunting for the burger section.

  “Well, a craft brew is fine, I guess,” he said.

  I selected two pints of something cheap and American. Something told me he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

  “How about two pints of ‘Dirty Tiger?’ Some small-batch stuff out of San Francisco.”

  “Works for me,” he said.

  I put in my order and sent it along with Steve’s. Less than a minute later a waitress was at the table, wordlessly dropping off the beers.

  “Okay,” said Steve, raising his glass. “We’re going to make a toast.”

  “What kind of toast?” I asked.

  “To our old man.”

  I furrowed my brow and cocked my head to the side.

  “You…you serious?”

  Now it was Steve’s turn to look confused.

  “Of course I am,” he said. “That’s why we’re here—to say goodbye.”

  He was right about that, sure. But this was leaving a bad taste in my mouth.

  “What’s that look for?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” I said. “It’s nothing.”

  “No, it’s something,” he said, setting down his beer. “And I know what it is.”

  “That right?”

  “That’s right. You’re thinking that just because I hadn’t talked to the old man in a few years means that I can’t miss him like you do or something, right?”

  “I don’t know if I’d put it like that,” I said.

  “Then how would you put it?”

  I was at a loss. Steve had actually pretty much nailed it. Not that I didn’t think he was upset about Dad’s passing, but…I don’t know. Something about it all just struck me as insincere—forced, even.

  I had a choice: press the issue and risk a fight, or let it go. In the spirit of Dad, I choose the latter.

  “Nothing,” I said. “Just upset that the three of us didn’t get a chance to see one another one last time.”

  “Well, you know how that went,” said Steve. “He took the military thing worse than you did. Man, I’ll never forget the day I talked to him and told him that I wasn’t re-enlisting. Might as well have told him I was getting a facial tattoo and joining the circus.”

  “Two boys,” I said. “Two chances to follow in his Marine footsteps. And one couldn’t hack it, the other didn’t want to.”

  Silence hung over the table.

  “It’s nothing now,” he said. “Dad’s gone, and I’m not about to let any of the bad stuff taint his memory.”

  “That’s a good call, big brother,” I said.

  Steve grabbed his beer by the handle and raised it into the air.

  “To only the good things,” he said.

  I raised my own beer along with him.

  “I’ll drink to that,” I said.

  We tapped our glasses and took our sips.

  “Damn,” said Steve, looking into his beer after drinking. “This is some good shit. Where did you say it was from?”

  I grinned.

  “San Francisco, just like I told you.”

  “Leave it to us Californians to do it right, huh?” he asked, reaching across the table and smacking me on the arm.

  I drank deeply from my beer, the crisp, light taste lingering on my tongue. But as I set down my glass, I noticed that there was a strange look on Steve’s face, as if he was about to tell me something he knew I didn’t want to hear.

  “Okay,” I said. “Out with it.”

  “Justin, I gotta tell you something,” he said. “And you’re not going to like it.”

  “Out with it,” I repeated, my tone hard.

  “But you gotta know that it wasn’t my call. I found out about it through her, and I tried to talk her out of it.”

  “‘Her’?”

  He sighed and spoke.

  “It’s Kelly,” he said. “She’s coming in tonight.”

  Chapter 6

  There’s no way to describe what I felt as I watched Kelly be dragged away by one of the men in black. Her blue eyes were locked onto mine, a bloodcurdling scream issuing from her mouth as she grew smaller and smaller, struggling against the man’s grip.

  “Justin!” she cried out.

  I didn’t even think about what I did next. My legs bolted me forward like they were pistons. But before I could even reach the halfway point between Kelly and me, a crack sounded out, followed by an incredible pain like nothing I’d ever felt before blasting down my spine.

  I collapsed in a heap, my vision blurry.

  “Fuck…” I moaned, writhing where I lay.

  As my vision began to clear, I looked up to see a figure looming over me. At first he appeared like a big blot of ink, but as the seconds passed and my eyesight cleared, I realized that it was the other man.

  My eyes went wide and, despite the throbbing in the back of my head, I struggled to get up to my feet. But I didn’t move fast enough. The man’s boot shot out and onto my chest, pinning me to the floor. I reached for his ankles but before I could close the distance, he raised his pistol and pointed it directly at my face.

  “How’s that feel?” he asked.

  “Don’t,” I groaned. “Don’t fucking touch her.”

  “You trying to tell me what to do, buddy?” he said menacingly, squatting down enough to say the words without raising his voice. “I suggest you be smart and
shut your mouth unless you want my friend to paint the walls with her brains, got it?”

  I said nothing, hot breath shooting out from my nose.

  “I’m gonna assume that means you’re going to be smart,” the man said. “Good boy.”

  He took his boot off my chest, and I brought in a deep pull of air now that I could.

  “Okay!” said the man, addressing the room at large. “Here’s the deal. We’re taking everything everyone in this place has got. That means wallets, phones, tablets, earrings, watches, and everything else. And that’s just what we’re getting from you guys.”

  He raised his gun and pointed it at the manager, a squat, middle-aged man in a short-sleeved, button-up shirt.

  “And as for you, we know when you get your cash picked up, and that’s today. Which means in the back office you’ve got a safe full of money. And you’re going to get it for us. Understand?”

  My body still wracked with pain, I shifted in place until I was facing Kelly. She was on her knees, tears in her eyes as the other man held a gun pressed against the back of her head.

  Why her? Out of all the people in this place, why did it have to be her?

  No point in thinking about it. My mind raced as I tried to figure out something, anything to do.

  “I don’t have the code!” said the manager, on the verge of panicking. “They come in and they take it out without telling us what it is!”

  Okay, I thought to myself. What do they do in the movies? Don’t have a gun, so that’s not an option. I have to find something, anything, some kind of weapon I can use as a—

  A crisp pop cut through my thoughts, followed by the acrid scent of what I recognized as gunpowder. I turned around towards the source of the noise, my heart sinking when I realized what had happened.

  The man stood with his gun raised, the smoking point aimed at a man who happened to be sitting at the bar.

  But he wasn’t sitting any longer. He was slumped forward, his face having fallen down into his meal. Blood trickled out of a hole on his head, mingling with the food on his plate.

  Oh, fuck. Oh, no.

  There was a pregnant silence as it dawned on everyone what had happened.

  Then the screams.

  One after another, all from the women in the place. Shrill, horrible screams that were like nothing I’d ever heard in my life. My heart pounded, the voices began to sound as though they were underwater.

  “We’ve done this before,” said the man who’d pulled the trigger. “And we know how to get what we want.”

  The second man pointed his pistol forward, moving it in a slow sweep over the crowd, screams shooting up from whoever the barrel was pointed at, like he was conducting some kind of horrible symphony.

  “The smart ones give up the goods right away,” said the first man. “But the stupid ones get all stubborn, think that they’re proving a point or some shit.”

  “You’ve all seen enough robberies on TV to know how this goes,” his associate said. “You don’t want to die for a smartphone, do you?”

  “And please, pretty please,” said the first man. “Turn off your electronics before we take them. Don’t want anyone tracking us.”

  “You give us a phone that’s still turned on, you get a bullet,” said the other man. “Simple as that. Oh—and if we see any of you reaching for a phone to call the cops, that’s a bullet for whoever you’re with, then one for you.”

  By now the pain had mostly left my body. I reached back slowly and touched where he’d hit me, feeling fresh, hot blood on my fingertips. But I was able to move, and my vision was back to clear. I’d been hit good, but not enough to do any serious damage.

  “But first,” said the second man, turning his attention back to the manager. “There’s the matter of the safe.”

  The manager took in a deep, full breath, a hard expression on his fleshy face.

  I knew that look. It was the face of stubbornness.

  Oh, God, I thought. Don’t do it. Just give him what he wants.

  The manager took one last, full breath, and spoke.

  “Fuck you.”

  The second man cocked his head to the side and put his hand to his ear.

  “What was that?” he asked.

  Goddammit, I thought. Please, please don’t be stupid.

  “I said, ‘fuck you.’”

  The second man shook his head like a disappointed parent. Then, he turned his aim away from the manager and towards a nearby waitress, some skinny girl who couldn’t have been older than twenty. Her eyes went wide with horror as she realized what was about to happen.

  Another pop, followed by another. The waitress, two red holes in the middle of her chest, dropped like she’d gotten the plug pulled out of her.

  “See what you did?” said the second man.

  He gave the manager just enough time for him to realize what had happened, to understand it, before pointing the gun back at him and firing another round, this one going clean through the manager’s forehead. Like the girl, he dropped into a heap.

  More screams, these somehow more hopeless and fearful than the ones before.

  “Quiet down!” shouted the second man, doing another sweep with his gun over the crowd.

  Everyone obeyed.

  “You know what the last thing that went through his head was?” said the first man, pointing in the general direction of the manager.

  “Other than the bullet,” his friend quipped.

  “Other than the bullet,” said the first. “It was the realization that he’d fucked up, followed by maybe, maybe a split-second of knowing deep in his bones that he was about to die.”

  “So!” said the second man. “Unless you want to know what that feels like, you’ll do what we say.”

  I glanced up back at Kelly, who was now nearly catatonic with fear.

  And all I could think was how I needed to do something, and I needed to do it now.

  Chapter 7

  19:30

  “Justin. Justin. Come back, bro.”

  Fingers snapped in front of my face. I shook my head, returning the moment.

  Steve was seated across from me, a look of mild impatience on his face.

  “There you are,” he said. “You back among the living?”

  “Sorry,” I said. “Lost myself for a second.”

  “Yeah, no kidding,” he said. “But good thing I’m used to you zoning out like that. Took the time to piss.”

  I was back, and quickly remembered what we’d been talking about.

  “Kelly,” I said. “She’s coming in?”

  “She’s coming in,” he repeated. “But I told you, I tried to get her not to do it.”

  “You were talking to her?” I shot out. “You were in communication with her?”

  Steve raised his palms.

  “Easy, dude,” he said. “Let me say my piece.”

  My hands were clenched into fists under the table, my nails digging into the skin of my palms.

  “Say it,” I said.

  “She emailed me a couple days ago,” Steve said. “She knew about Dad passing, and she told me she wanted to come in and pay her respects.”

  “What?” I asked. “Why would she want to do that? They weren’t even close!”

  “That’s what I told her!” he said right back. “I mean, I put it in nice words, but that’s the gist of what I said. And I told her that with what was going on between you and her it just wouldn’t be a good idea.”

  “And what’d she say?”

  “She said she wouldn’t feel right if she didn’t come,” he said. “And that she wouldn’t make a big thing about it.”

  “But you just let her do it anyway.”

  “Let her?” he repeated. “Justin, she’s your wife. Ah, ex-wife. Or whatever you are. Point is you know how stubborn she can be.”

  I let my head fall back behind me for a moment in frustration before looking back at Steve.

  “And you decided not to tell me?”


  “I’m telling you now,” he said. “Trust me, there was no good time to do it. And I wanted to make sure that you were here and in town before I dropped the bomb on you. I wanted to tell you in person.”

  “You could’ve told me before,” I said. “And then I could’ve been the one to try to talk her out of it.”

  “And be party to you guys having another fight?” he asked. “Not a chance. I didn’t want you dealing with that right after Dad died.”

  “I can call her now,” I said, reaching for my phone and taking it out. “Tell her not to come.”

  “Too late for that,” said Steve. “She’s in the air right now.”

  I stared at him in stunned silence for a moment before tossing my phone onto the table.

  At that moment, the waitress returned and silently placed the food on the table before leaving, like some kind of extremely hospitable phantom.

  But my hunger was long gone. I didn’t even take my eyes off Steve for long enough to notice the burger.

  “So, I get a few hours to mentally prep for this.”

  Steve shook his head.

  “No,” he said. “She’s coming to attend the funeral, pay her respects, and that’s it. I didn’t invite her to come party with us or anything.”

  “Not like we’re going to be partying anyway,” I said, making it clear.

  “Jesus, Justin,” said Steve. “This is what I’m talking about, you making this harder than it has to be. If you would’ve just signed the papers and been done with this shit when she wanted—”

  “There you go again,” I said. “Telling me my business.”

  “Come on,” he said, frustration creeping into his voice. “What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to say?”

  “You could say nothing,” I said. “Understand that it’s not any of your business.”

  I knew what I was about to say next wouldn’t do the situation any good. But I couldn’t help myself; the words sort of came out on their own.

  “You know,” I went on. “Like you did after the robbery.”

  Any trace of light-heartedness drained out of my brother’s features. His mouth went slack, and he glared at me hard for a long moment.