by Brown, TW
Joel glanced behind them and saw dark shapes that could very well be people on top of the structure that extended over the entrance to Excalibur, the castle-themed hotel. He saw that they were indeed trapped as the undead had the area surrounded and were perhaps fifty or hundred deep on every side possible—at least from what he could see.
“Well?” Joel said as the vehicle slowed.
“Well what?” Debra asked.
“Why are you slowing?”
“I thought I would see what you wanted to do.”
Just then, Will pulled up alongside in the deuce-and-a-half. He looked past them to the sea of undeath and scowled. “Ain’t no way we can get up that road, boss.”
“I know,” Joel admitted.
“So what do we do?”
“Tell your radio operator to call base. See if they can make contact with Conrad Parks and the group we came here to find.” Joel fought down the urge to gag as the breeze blew a wave of stench past his nose. He had to guess they were still almost a half mile away, yet there were so many zombies gathered that the smell carried.
“You want us to sit here in the open like this while we try to figure this out?” Will sounded dubious and his eyes kept darting to where the zombies were gathered. As of yet, only a few had turned their direction.
“…able to hear me?” a woman’s voice drawled in a thick accent that sounded more at home in the Deep South than Las Vegas.
“Hello?” Joel pressed his ear piece in a bit more snug so that he might be able to hear better.
“Is this the group in them military vehicles, or just the bunch of idiots on the roof of the entrance to Excalibur?”
Joel wasn’t about to answer that question. “Who might you be?”
“I am the vengeance of the Lord.” There was a fervent quality to the voice that told Joel that this person was not speaking in metaphors. She believed what she was saying with an absolute certainty that only an extremist can believe.
“Does he know, or is it a surprise?” Malik snorted, earning a scowl from Joel.
“This world has become a cesspool of depravity and perversion. This is the coming of the dead promised in Revelations. Soon the world will be purged of all sinners, and those of us found worthy will be swept up and brought before God to sit as his feet for eternity,” the woman railed. In the background, shouts of “Amen!” and “Praise God!” were heard.
Joel reached over and shut off the engine of the Humvee. He waved at Will and made a slashing gesture across his throat. In a moment, the only sounds were those of the undead gathered around the white awning packed with desperate survivors still waving their arms and obviously hoping that Joel’s group would return for them. Then he heard it, off to the left.
He scanned what looked like a ten-story parking garage next to the New York, New York Hotel and Casino complex. It only took him a moment to see the flash of something reflecting off of a shiny surface that could be glass or metal. He also saw a flurry of movement. Either these people weren’t trying to hide because they were foolish, or simply didn’t know any better. He was going to bet on the latter while still accepting that it was just as likely to be equal parts both.
“Got yourself some military hardware, do ya?” Joel asked.
“It is the sword of salvation,” the woman replied coldly. “And we are simply the tools of His righteousness. We are bringing before the Lord those who would try to cower from judgement.”
“So you’re saying God can’t take care of his own business?”
“Do not mock the power of the Lord,” the woman snarled in a furious warning laced with unveiled venom.
“Always amazed me how you religious nuts make all these claims to be working for God as if he wasn’t able to handle his business.” He tapped Debra and nodded for her to start the Humvee now that he knew what he needed to know in regards to the location of what he now deemed the larger threat. He heard Will start the deuce-and-a-half a few seconds later. “You always claim that you are acting on His behalf, or as His will dictates. It’s never about how you are just some sort of delusional basket case that should be locked in a rubber room in one of those white coats that tie up in the back.”
“Perhaps you need to meet our Lord in person and see if that mocking tongue still wags.”
There was a chorus of cheers, and then an electronic click. A few seconds later, Joel saw a puff of smoke from the roof of the parking garage structure.
“Go!” he barked.
He felt himself jerk in his harness and pressed back into the seat as the Humvee lurched forward. The truck vanished from view as both his drivers acted without question. A heartbeat later, there was an explosion. Joel knew instantly that it was nowhere near them. He looked in the mirror as the sounds of something crumbling and coming apart sounded. The roof of the overhang had been hit and was breaking apart.
He saw a section of it come loose and tilt like some sort of slide that sent dozens of people, some injured by the blast, some not, sliding down into the sea of undeath that waited with reaching hands and gnashing teeth. Another section broke free and landed on a cluster of zombies, most likely turning them into jelly. That only served as a false reprieve for those who’d ridden that piece of concrete in its wild free fall. Despite how slow or uncoordinated they might be, the wave of walking dead closed on that group with finality.
The screams that came to Joel’s ears were terrible and he was shaken by how they differed from anything he’d ever heard, even in the killing fields of Vietnam. These were screams of unimaginable pain and fear.
“Go, go, go!” he shouted. “Malik, lay down fire around the upper decks of that garage.”
“Roger,” Malik responded. Almost instantly, the chatter of the .50 cal sounded, accompanied by the clatter of its large shell casings bouncing off the roof or even the hood of the Humvee.
“Will, get somebody to lob a few frag grenades onto the top of that place.” Joel pointed to the exit that would take them back to Interstate 15. Debra grunted in acknowledgment as she veered down what would have been the interstate’s off-ramp.
“Hello?” a voice came over the radio.
Joel felt his mouth go dry. He knew the voice of Conrad Parks anywhere.
“Conrad?” he said into his mic with as much calm as he could muster. “Where are you, son?”
“Tower Two of the Signature Suites,” the man replied. “Is that you, Uncle Landon?”
“It is, Conrad.” Joel swallowed the lump in his throat at what he would have to say next. “Son, we tried, but it seems that the zombies are thick here around the main hotels of The Strip. It just isn’t possible for us to get to you.”
There was a moment of silence. He glanced over at Debra and saw that her eyes remained on the road as she wove her way through the few undead and scattered cars on the highway. If she was feeling anything, it was impossible to tell by her expression.
“I understand, sir.”
Joel felt his stomach churn. He’d always considered Conrad to be like a son. If that sentiment held any truth, wouldn’t he throw all caution aside and do what needed to be done in order to save him?
“You have a radio, so I want you to stay in touch with us. If the situation on the ground changes, do not hesitate to reach out.” Joel twisted and turned in his seat to try and get a glimpse of the towers. At the moment, they were hidden by one of the countless parking structures. “I’m not sure how much food you have, but I might be able to help when it comes to water.”
Debra glanced his way, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. “And what exactly do you think we can do?” she asked over the rumble of the engine.
“Power,” Joel answered. “We have access to power. That power will turn on all the pumps so that at least water will flow freely.”
“So we are going to turn the lights on in Las Vegas?” she sniffed. “Seems like a bit much.”
“That is only part of the plan.” Joel leaned back as his mind began to mull over the possibilities.
“But first, we have some business to finish.”
“So we are heading home?”
“No,” Joel said, leaning back in his seat and shutting his eyes. “Can you get us to Nellis Air Force Base?”
7
Grand Ideas
“This is a big mistake, sir,” Debra said through clenched teeth.
Not for the first time, Joel wished that he could turn to Wanda for advice. It seemed so simple. Just hop on the freeway, drive to the base, and have his two pilots locate an attack helicopter if possible.
“I don’t understand,” Joel whispered. “Where are they all coming from?”
Outside the Humvee, there were swarms of the walking dead, and with his vehicle and the deuce-and-a-half the dominant noise source, they were all coming his way. Twice they’d had to stop and clear bodies from underneath the Humvee after trying to force their way through. The front of his clothes were still fouled from his having been sick.
And he hadn’t been the only one. His entire team had vomited until there was nothing left in their bellies as they’d worked feverishly to pull the twisted and mangled bodies from under the vehicle.
“It’s simple, you are taking us out into the suburbs. This is where most folks probably died,” Debra said with a tone that indicated she believed he should already know this.
“What about the FEMA shelters?”
“Those were a joke. They were set up hastily and before protocols were enacted to deal with incoming citizens who’d been bitten. Once a few people turned inside the wire, the shelter was doomed. A lot of the soldiers sent in were just part-timers. They bailed at the first sign of trouble.”
“You and Will bailed,” Joel pointed out.
“After we were basically shot down by the fucktards we were trying to protect,” she bit off angrily.
“This is not working, boss,” Will piped in. “This truck isn’t the easiest thing to maneuver. If I get stuck someplace…” His words faded with the meaning that he obviously did not want to elaborate on.
Joel slapped the console of the Humvee. “Turn us around and take us home.”
Debra yanked the wheel around and gunned it. It was obvious that she was almost as anxious to abandon this fool’s mission as her cohort.
The rest of the drive back to their base at the dam was in silence. There was a degree of discomfort in it for Joel. It wasn’t that he felt the need to be friends or even liked by these people. What bothered him was that he’d wasted a day doing something that he knew in his gut was doomed to fail.
However, there were a few things that he could use and take away from the excursion. For one, he now had a firmer grasp on what he wanted to do. It wasn’t enough that he simply set up a base at the dam. What he wanted to do was get the power up and running to the main part of Las Vegas. He would have to bring in manpower, but he also wanted to build a wall around it. It would become the true gleaming gem in the desert.
If there were survivors, and he had no reason to believe that there weren’t, he would bring them in—provided they could offer something to the community. They would need to be able to work long and hard. But when it was done, any who remained under his umbrella would reap rewards beyond their wildest dreams.
As they pulled past the checkpoint and the gate began to shut behind them, Joel was almost anxious. He would call a mandatory community meeting. During that meeting, he would lay out his plan. They would work hard to create a military base of operations here at the dam; guarding their power would be vital. They would also amass supplies in abundance. They would stockpile food, water, fuel, and firepower. As soon as it was feasible, they would start to expand outward into the communities surrounding Las Vegas. Hopefully many of the gangs would do each other in by then. He would be able to scoop up the strongest…the real survivors. Also, maybe the undead would move on by then as well. It would be much easier if that particular nuisance was either gone, or at least drastically reduced.
As soon as he cleared the quarantine, he called the meeting. Joel gave the speech where he laid out the skeleton of his plan. He made it clear that it would be adjusted as they went and learned more of what would be required. The workers who knew the ins and outs of the dam were tasked with coming up with the plan to isolate the power generated by it. A few were also tasked with making similar arrangements for water. Las Vegas was, after all, a city pulled up from the sands of the desert and dependent on external sources for water.
A week later, he met with the head engineers. That was when he was told about how this location was a vital, if not the most important, source of water for large parts of Southern California, including Los Angeles, San Diego, and many other places.
“As many as eighteen million people rely on the Colorado River for their water,” one of the female engineers said.
“And most of them are probably dead by now.” Joel gave a dismissive wave. “Our sole focus and concern is right here. This community.”
“But anybody still in that region would basically be without any sort of fresh water source,” another engineer piped in. This one sounded angry.
“Did you watch any of the news those last few days before the EBS took over?” Joel challenged. “The big cities were lost…they were war zones. We had no idea how bad back then thanks to the denials coming from that Dr. Sing woman and her flunkies. I really don’t give a damn about anybody or anyplace else except for us, and right here.”
“I won’t do it,” the man said coldly. “I won’t willingly be a part of the murder of possibly millions of people.”
Joel’s barking laugh caused a few individuals to jump. He stepped from behind the podium he’d been speaking at and walked to the edge of the platform. The man who was openly defying him stared up, his jaw set and his arms crossed over his body.
“What is your name?” Joel asked.
“Mick Hassan.” The man glanced around and realized that all eyes were on him. If that bothered him at all, it did not seem to show in his expression or demeanor.
“And are you telling me right now, in front of all our people that you are refusing to do what I have asked?”
There was a moment of silence, and several people actually leaned forward as they awaited the answer. Even Joel found himself curious as to what this man’s answer would be now that the situation had obviously escalated.
“I will not help engineer shutting of the flow of water from here to California and wherever else it is directed. I will not take what little chances people have at surviving and dash them to serve whatever plan you may be hatching,” Mick finally answered.
“Then, Mick Hassan, I sentence you to the darkness.” He nodded at Will and Debra who had both moved to flank the man.
“What? You mean that stairwell? You can’t do that,” the man shouted, looking first to the left, then to the right and seeing that his exit had already been cut off.
“I am the final authority here,” Joel said calmly, his eyes scanning the room and making contact with as many of his citizens as he could. “And disobedience will not be tolerated.”
“You’re a maniac,” Mick shouted. His eyes were now wide with fear as Will and Debra moved to within just a few feet. As they’d started their approach, everybody in between them and their target had cleared a path.
“No, I am quite sane,” Joel said calmly as he approached Mick. He gave the slightest of nods and Debra moved in with Will to grab the man by the arms and quickly bind them behind his back. “I know that there must be order if we are to live and rise above in a world that is lost.”
“Do you hear yourself?” Mick gasped. “You’re spouting some kinda Jim Jones bullshit. What’s next? Make everybody drink poisoned Kool-Aid?”
“Jim Jones claimed to be God. He did what he did under the guise of his own twisted perversion of Christianity. What I do here has nothing to do with God, Allah, or any other deity. I do this to preserve our chances at living a full life despite what has happened.” Joel stopped directly in front of Mick
and placed his hands on the man’s shoulders. “I am the one who makes the rules. This is not a democracy. That is a failed idea that has brought us here to the brink of extinction.”
Joel pushed Mick aside and stepped forward. He scanned the faces of his people. Some looked scared, others angry, and a few appeared to be on the verge of orgasm. These would be his zealots. These were the faces he made it a point to commit to memory each time he saw them. These would be the ones who would act on his orders with vigor. They would be the ones he sent on the deadliest excursions.
“Some of you have been out there,” Joel said, his voice loud enough to be heard by all who had gathered. “You know the wasteland that the city has become. You have seen the lawlessness, the raiders who take for themselves whether they need it or not. Soon enough, they will come here seeking to take what is ours. It is vital that we create something that is so powerful that it inspires fear. If we become strong and can simultaneously make all those who might dare come here with bad intentions just a bit weaker, then we will continue to stand. That only happens if there is somebody willing to take charge and do what others might fear to do…hesitate to consider.”
“You’re a lunatic,” Mick hissed. “And I don’t know if you pay attention to popular conventions, but it never ends well for your sort.”
“Bring him,” Joel said, and moved past where Will and Debra held the man between them.
Most of those gathered simply fell in with the procession and entered the dam. They passed the huge generators that continued to spin and create power.
At last, they arrived at the door. Joel opened the door himself and then turned to Mick.
“I would normally offer you one final chance to change your mind, but I do not believe it would do any good in this instance.” Stepping back from the prisoner, Joel once again allowed his gaze to skim across the faces of his people. “Mick Hassan, for the crime of insubordination, I sentence you to the darkness.”
