Fight the Shock

by William Oday

The guy shot her a look like she was crazy. “Well, you can’t be in here. This area is closed until further notice.” He stepped to the side and gestured. “I’ll escort you to the exit.”

  “Okay,” Lily said, even though the thought of going out into the street was anything but okay. “There are people still trapped at the top of the tower. They need help.”

  “We’re overwhelmed right now so they’re going to have to sit tight. But thanks for letting me know.”

  “Also, there were a couple of guys further back that broke into a jewelry store.”

  His fleshy cheeks quivered with anger. He grabbed the two-way radio clipped to his belt. “How many?”

  “Two.”

  “Were they armed?”

  “One had a tire iron. That’s all I saw.”

  He spoke into the radio. “Nelson, this is Burnett. We’ve got a break-in at Bocelli’s. Confirmed two males. One armed with a tire iron. I’m heading there now and could use backup.”

  Lily and Piper waited while the guard finished the communication.

  “Alright.” He pointed off to the right. “Keep going in that direction. You’ll pass a creperie place and a few other shops. The exit is a little further on. All the doors are chained shut except for one. Use that one and make sure it latches when you close it. Understood?”

  Lily considered telling him about the old man at the slot machine, but decided against it. His next drink would have to wait.

  “Yes. Thanks,” Lily said as the guard turned to leave.

  They followed the directions and stepped out the door.

  Lily closed it behind them and heard it click. She tried to pull it open, but the lock had engaged.

  They stood in the shadows of a stone archway, staring out at the street and the wide pool of the Bellagio beyond.

  And it was nothing like it had been when they’d arrived just hours ago.

  Now, it was like a war zone.

  And from what her dad had said about the aftermath of an EMP attack, she knew it was going to get much, much worse.

  8

  Donny Price pulled into a strip mall on the far south end of the Vegas strip.

  “We gettin’ some Panda Express?” his best and only friend, Zeke Bell, asked from the passenger’s seat.

  “Hell no. I don’t eat that greasy slop. We’re going to McDonald’s…after.”

  They went past a liquor store and parked right under the golden arches. He shut off the ignition and the old Chevy El Camino sputtered a few times before going quiet. Across Las Vegas Blvd was their first destination.

  Mandalay Bay Resort and Casino.

  But it cost twenty dollars to park there and Donny wasn’t about to waste a single red cent on parking when he could just as easily park across the street for free.

  He patted the pair of fuzzy red dice hanging from the rear view mirror. “Lady Luck is gonna be on my side tonight. I can feel it.”

  Zeke’s leg was going like a jackhammer while he blew a lungful of smoke out the window. After recovering from a bout of coughing, Zeke passed the meth pipe and lighter over. “You said that before, but I don’t see us drivin’ no Lamborghini.”

  Donny had the urge, a strong one, to punch his friend in the ear for talking trash on the Mino. “Shut your mouth. You don’t know nothin’.” He sparked up and inhaled deeply, the sharp smoke filled his chest and the tingles of the oncoming high rolled in. He went through his own spell of hacking coughs and came out the other side all the better.

  The speed was doing its thing. Filling his limbs with a thousand volts of electric satisfaction.

  That was the good news.

  The bad news was that they’d just smoked up the last of it. The even worse news was that there was no chance Jax was going to front him any more without first settling up on his debt.

  Donny ran a fingertip along a five-inch slice in the dashboard.

  The Mino had a lot of scars and every one told a story. That one told the story of when a hooker tried to rip him off by taking his money and trying to bolt. All he’d wanted was what he paid for and so that was what he took. Of course, that was after she drew a knife on him and a wild swing missed his face by inches and instead made that cut. After he was finished getting his money’s worth, he even paid her.

  Just because it was the gentlemanly thing to do.

  It wouldn’t have taken much to repair it, but he liked that story and it gave the Mino more character.

  Donny tucked the pipe up under the console in the secret spot he’d found that cops never could. He dropped the lighter in his shirt pocket and flicked the dice, feeling the rush jagging through his veins.

  “Man, you sure about this?” Zeke asked. “I mean, what if you don’t win? Jax doesn’t bluff. He’ll kill you and probably me too just to send a message.”

  Donny spat a glob of thick spit out the window. “I ain’t afraid of him.” He reached under the seat and pulled out a pistol. “He’s the one that should be afraid.”

  Even as he said it, he knew it was nothing but talk. Everyone was afraid of Jackson Cook. He ran drugs and whores and stolen goods and, unlike most of the other guys that had climbed up the chain of criminal enterprise, he never turned civilized. He never got soft.

  No, he enjoyed personally enforcing the rules from time to time. It kept him in touch with his roots, he liked to say. With him, that meant torture and eventually a bullet to the brain.

  Eventually.

  Which was why Donny was very nervous indeed about owing him thirteen hundred dollars. The debt had started small. Nothing to worry about. But he never stopped needing the next fix and he couldn’t always pay for it up front. So he ended up scoring more on credit. Again and again.

  Jax loved selling on credit because then he had his claws in you. And that meant he could slowly bleed you dry. Take everything before he was finished.

  But Donny was about to change all that. He dug a wad of crumpled bills out of his pocket. Nine hundred dollars. Hard-earned dollars too. The details were blurry from tweaking so hard, but this bankroll was the result of a string of successful convenience store robberies. That was high risk work. You never knew when one of those dumbshit clerks would pull a gun like they were some kind of Dirty Harry out for justice.

  He hadn’t killed anyone, but he would’ve if it had come to that. It was nothing personal. It was just what it was. Jax was going to kill him if he didn’t come up with the cash. It wasn’t like Donny had some fancy college degree and a good-paying job. He did what he had to do to get by. That’s always how it had been, so far.

  But he was meant for something bigger and better. He just had to survive long enough to get there. And that meant settling his debt with Jax. Sure, he could knock a chunk off the debt by turning over his bankroll and maybe that would buy him time.

  But for how long?

  And for what? He’d be dead broke again and still owe $400 that was racking up interest every single day it went unpaid.

  Nope.

  That wouldn’t change anything. He had to win big and get out from under it once and for all. And then he’d never buy from that psychopath again.

  Donny breathed in the handful of cash. Smelled like cocaine and a hooker’s panties after a long night on the job. He remembered watching a show on TV that said ninety percent of paper money had traces of cocaine and poop on it. Sounded about right considering what he’d seen.

  He stared at the bills a second and another crazy thought hit him. The crank sometimes worked like that.

  People would do anything to get more of these rectangular pieces of green paper. They’d cheat. They’d lie. They’d steal. Hell, he knew a few losers that would kill their own grandmothers for less than he had here.

  For nothing but a piece of paper.

  It didn’t fill your belly or quench your thirst and even get you high.

  He chuckled to himself, knowing the truth of it. The truth was that these green pieces of paper could get you all those other things. Anythin
g you wanted. Cash was king and everything else served at its beck and call.

  “What’re you laughing about?” Zeke said.

  Donny glanced over and noticed the glazed look in Zeke’s eyes. He knew his were the same. “Nothin’. You ready?”

  “Sure.”

  Donny checked himself in the mirror. He raked a hand through greasy black hair and smiled, revealing a mouth full of yellowed, rotting teeth. The ones that were still there anyway. Meth did a number on teeth and his were a textbook case. He snapped his mouth shut and slapped the mirror away. It didn’t matter. He’d be rich enough to get them all replaced someday.

  He leaned forward and kissed the fuzzy red dice. He sent up a silent prayer to Lady Luck, begging her to treat him right for just one damn time in his cursed life.

  Because if she did her usual thing tonight, he was very much a dead man.

  9

  They strolled through the front entrance of the Mandalay Bay Resort and Casino probably looking just like those guys in Ocean’s Eleven. All suave, in charge and ready to take the bull by the horns.

  That’s the way it felt to Donny, anyway.

  They made a beeline for the casino floor which wasn’t hard to find on account of all the flashing lights, bing bong noises and cloud of cigarette smoke.

  More than a few heads turned as they made their way through. Zeke picked at the stains on his shirt. He was always so worried about everything.

  Donny punched him in the shoulder. “Relax, man. We’re not here to stick up the joint. We’re paying customers. This place exists to serve us.”

  Zeke made like he was cool but it wasn’t convincing. That was okay. He was along for the ride.

  Tonight was all about Donny’s destiny. This would be the start of something bigger and better.

  He found the cashier, exchanged his nine hundred dollars for chips and got free passes to the shark reef aquarium, drink vouchers, and a couple of buffet vouchers. He flashed them in Zeke’s face. “And you wanted Panda Express. Pffft.” He pocketed the chips, all heady again about how he was trading one essentially meaningless form of wealth for another and how it was still as good as gold, so long as everybody kept on agreeing that it was.

  They got directions to the roulette tables and headed over. They threaded through a maze of blackjack tables and arrived in the promised land. They plopped down in a couple of empty chairs, next to a young couple that were drunk as skunks and pawing all over each other. They were in town for a wild weekend. Locals didn’t act like that. Tourists often went home filled with regret after losing a wad of cash and picking up a permanent infection.

  What happened in Vegas didn’t always stay in Vegas.

  Donny was different. This was his city. He was here to stay.

  He touched the blue felt covering the table and his fingertips sizzled with possibility. Sure, that could’ve been the speed talking, but whatever. He felt it and it was real. This was where his horrible, tragic, pathetic life was finally going to take a turn for the better.

  He pulled out all the chips and stacked them up in piles. That got the attention of a few of the other players at the table. Not the couple though. If they kept it up like that, he was gonna have to suggest they get a room. She was hot and it was too much of a distraction.

  Zeke sat next to him, his leg still bouncing like he was tapping out a telegraph message.

  Donny flagged down a passing waitress and ordered a couple of whiskies neat. No chance he was going to let them fill it up with anything else. Booze did a good job of softening the sharp edges of being cranked up.

  “Gimme a smoke,” he said as he reached out a hand. Zeke hooked them both up and soon they had a swirling cloud drifting away above their heads. The drinks arrived and he handed over a couple of vouchers. He winked as she waited for a tip.

  She finally gave up and huffed away.

  Her anger was like tipping him. He grinned and enjoyed the moment.

  They watched the wheel spin and the ball drop. Bets won and lost as they sipped on the whisky and burned through a few cigarettes.

  No sense rushing fate.

  It would be there, waiting for him when he was ready.

  They finally finished their drinks and stubbed cigarette butts out in the bottom of the empty glasses.

  Donny stared at the wheel and finally let the question come into his mind that he’d purposefully avoided so far.

  Red or Black?

  Sure, he could’ve put it all on a number and gotten a huge payout if it turned up. But what were the odds of that happening? He didn’t know, but they weren’t good.

  Red or black was simple. And the odds were fifty-fifty except for the zeros on the wheel. He took a single chip and moved his hand toward the red diamond and then the black, testing to see if maybe one felt different than the other.

  But no, they felt the same. Cool and quiet and giving away no secrets.

  He closed his eyes and tried to listen for Lady Luck’s voice, anything really that might tell him which color the steel ball would land on next.

  Damn it. Still nothing.

  Well, he couldn’t sit here all night waiting for a sign that might never come. He wrapped his hands around the stacks of chips, took a deep breath, and slid them over to red.

  His heart rate spiked as others at the table chattered about the ballsy bet. They didn’t know the half of it. His life was on the table.

  The man was about to call an end to betting when something struck Donny in the chest. A flash that maybe was the speed or maybe something else. Without thinking, he shoved the chips over to black and the man waved off any more betting.

  The wheel blurred and the ball circled around in the opposite direction.

  This was it!

  All or nothing!

  Was he wrong to move to black?

  Did he just screw himself and it was gonna end up going red?

  Oh God, had he just killed himself with that move?

  The wheel slowed and the silver ball jumped and skipped around. It hit the edges of various numbered slots, bouncing back and forth as it slowed.

  It bounced into a red slot and Donny nearly screamed as it looked like it would stay there.

  Then, it took one last hop and landed on black.

  And stayed there.

  Donny whooped with joy. He leaped out of his seat and accidentally smacked the slobber swapping guy in the back of the head. He jumped up and down, hollering incoherently while dragging Zeke up to join him in a celebratory dance that had no particular rhythm or steps.

  “Black wins,” the man said. He counted out nine hundred dollars worth of poker chips and slid them over.

  Donny slapped the table so hard he winced. Still, the pain was nothing compared to the joy of winning. He now had eighteen hundred dollars!

  Eighteen hundred!

  He could pay off Jax, get an eight ball to celebrate and he’d still have money in his pocket!

  He scooped up all the chips and was about to toss one to the guy working the table. But he stuffed them all into his bulging pockets because he needed it more. He wrapped an arm around Zeke. “Times they are a changing, my friend. Did I tell you or did I tell you?”

  Zeke laughed and the two headed over to cash out.

  Donny stacked up all the chips on the counter and grinned at the lady who’d not so long ago set him up with the first nine hundred.

  “Looks like someone’s had a good night,” she said as she counted through them.

  “Oh yeah,” Donny said, being sure to keep a close eye on her. He wasn’t about to get cheated after doing all the hard work to get this far.

  She finished the count. “One thousand eight hundred dollars. How would you like that?”

  “Cold, hard cash, baby,” he replied, barely able to contain his joy.

  She nodded and tapped away on a computer screen to finish the transaction.

  Donny pulled Zeke into a headlock and squeezed. “We’re going places, amigo. Stick with me and
the sky is the limit!”

  And then the lights throughout the casino cut off.

  10

  “What the hell?” Donny said as he looked around, tried to look around, rather, because the whole place was as dark as the inside of a closet.

  “Donny, you there?” Zeke said, his voice faltering.

  “Of course I’m here, you idiot.”

  Glasses shattered and chairs and people crashed to the floor. Some lady screamed, “My purse! Someone took my purse!”

  An angry, deep voice bellowed, “Turn the damn lights back on!”

  More shouting followed until it was hard to make out what any particular one was saying.

  The place was going crazy.

  A heavier thud to his left that sounded like a gambling table got thrown over. The plastic clinking of an avalanche of poker chips. Donny had half a mind to get over there and scoop up as many of them as he could before the lights came back on and the opportunity ended.

  But no.

  He wanted his money first.

  He reached out in the dark and his finger smacked into the edge of the counter. “Oww.” He’d misjudged it and probably jammed a knuckle. He continued forward until he found the cashier’s arm. “Lady, give me my eighteen hundred dollars.”

  She tried to pull away, but he held tight. “Umm, sir, wait just a minute.”

  Flashlights clicked on here and there as security guards got their act together. One of the beams lit up a blackjack table and revealed some frat boy wearing a green fraternity jacket scooping chips off the table. He froze when he realized he was no longer in the dark. A biker looking guy in a black leather jacket next to him saw what was happening and didn’t take it kindly. Must’ve been his chips. He jumped on the kid and started wailing on him. Blood exploded from the frat boy’s nose and the punches kept dropping as a security guard moved in to break it up.

  Strong hands grasped Donny’s hand and tore it loose. He turned back to get blinded by a flashlight and then howled with pain as a metal gate crashed down on his forearm. He yanked it back and the gate came down again and clicked shut.