Out of LA

by Dennis Elder

  “They do,” replied Randy. Tyrone and I tried them all yesterday.

  “Infrared and night vision?” asked Mark.

  “Yes and yes,” responded Randy.

  “What about thermal and the laser,” asked Mark again.

  “Yup, they both work too,” said Randy. Then Randy broke into a big grin too.

  Mark knew where Randy was going and asked, “No way the TTW works!”

  “I know, it’s crazy but it works too,” said Randy. The TTW stood for Through The Wall. It was the revolutionary feature of the SmartScope and worked with a geosynchronous government satellite parked twenty two thousand miles directly above the wheat fields of Kansas.

  “But how?” questioned Mark. “Nothing else battery or electrical seems to work. How did our scopes escape damage?

  Then Tyrone spoke up. “Not sure really. Our storage locker was full at the Convention center and I needed a hiding place for the extra scopes. All I know is I stashed them under a couple of large steel tanks with the word Fire Suppression stenciled on them. It looked like a safe place where nobody would bother them.”

  “Sure!” offered Doc. “The radiation couldn’t penetrate the water tanks. Fire suppression tanks hold pressurized water. H2O is too dense.”

  “Man, the force was with us on that one,” said Jake.

  “10-4 to that!” exclaimed Sam. “This will triple our effective firepower.”

  The team was dang happy with the news. Everybody was slapping Tyrone on the back and acting like it was Christmas morning. His dumb luck had saved their SmartScopes from destruction. Each member of the team had been part of the design, testing and construction of the SmartScope. They knew the tactical advantages it would provide.

  Tyrone unzipped a bag filled with the scopes and passed it down the line. Everyone pulled out an individual scope and immediately headed to their ACR rifles. They wanted to get their scopes mounted right away.

  It was the first good news they’d had in three days. But Susan still had something to offer and she turned to Boon.

  Boon remembered and addressed the team.

  “One more thing everyone. Susan has something you’re gonna love.”

  Then Boon sat down and gave Susan the floor. The guys all stopped their celebration and turned back to Susan.

  “Tomorrow morning, after breakfast we’re all going on a little test ride,” pronounced Susan. Mark and Boon were the only ones who knew about her little surprise.

  Susan’s idea didn’t go over very well with the others.

  “What,” cried Jake. “I was gonna sight in my gun in the morning.”

  “You’ll have time to do that before we leave,” responded Susan.

  Some of the others had the same idea and a few grumbles were heard. But it didn’t stop Susan from laying out tomorrow’s details.

  “At 10 am we’re all going to suit up in full gear and test drive our bikes on the Orange freeway. Everybody caries at least 20 pounds of gear, plus weapons. We’ll go ten miles out and ten miles back. This will give you a feel for the bikes and a taste of what riding will do to your butt. My hope is we don’t learn much about flat tires.”

  Chapter 31: Six flats

  Unfortunately, Mark’s team learned a great deal about flat tires during their trial bike ride on the freeway. By the time they got back to the Police station they had repaired six flat tires and had to put down three overly aggressive HBs. They didn’t make it back until 4:30 in the afternoon. It certainly was a reality check. Their hope to travel up to 45 miles a day now seemed overly optimistic. The section of freeway they rode on was strewn with glass. After a few miles and four flat tires they learned to stay in the far left lane, close to the freeway divider. Most of the moving cars hit by gamma radiation seemed to gravitate to the right before hitting the wall or another car. By the time they were on their way back they had become skilled at spotting debris in the lane and then hefting their bikes to their shoulders before walking across the glass in their athletic shoes. They also decided to test drive their bikes without the trailers. That was a good thing. Two wheels were enough to manage on their first day. But Susan knew they’d have to figure out some way of carrying a connected bike to a heavy trailer across patches of broken glass.

  Some of the guys had come back with some cuts and scrapes. Tyrone may have been an acrobatic tight end in High School, but on a bike, he was a disaster.

  From the Police Station they’d pushed their bikes the entire four blocks to the Freeway’s south bound on ramp. Once they were up on the freeway, Susan had them all line up together. She showed them how to slip their shoes into the toe strap and push off. Susan made it look easy. Then they all started off together. She assumed everyone knew how to ride a bike. That was a mistake.

  Tyrone pushed down on his pedal and as he looked down to get his other shoe in the pedal strap he lost his balance and fell over and into Frank’s bike. They both went down in a heap.

  The other six riders were all able to move forward without falling over. But everyone but Randy was having trouble getting their second foot into the pedal strap. Randy pushed off like a pro and never looked back.

  Frank was yelling at Tyrone to get his fat but off him. Susan circled back and tried to get the two men separated. But Tyrone’s bike was tangled up good with Frank’s. By now the other guys were laughing at Tyrone and Frank. After a couple more minutes they were finally apart and standing. So, they tried it again. Frank took off fine. But poor Tyrone really struggled. He fell over again when he tried to slip his second shoe into the toe strap.

  Susan got him upright again and said, “Once you push off, don’t worry about getting your foot inside the other pedal strap. Don’t look down at all. Just put your second foot on the other pedal and try riding around a bit to get use to the bike. You’ll get a feel for the strap with time and will be able to slip your foot in there without even looking down. Trust me.”

  Tyrone followed Susan’s private instruction and did much better. He was still a little unsteady on the bike, but he never fell over again. They all rode around in circles for a few more minutes until they got used to the ride, the gears and the brakes. Then they headed south on the Orange Freeway.

  Chapter 32: Candy bars and Sunglasses

  Ivan Petrovich had been a busy boy. When he and his band of 250 convicts walked out of Nevada’s High Desert Maximum Security prison they came out free men. They also had to walk over 80 miles before finally coming to their first convenience store. Inside they found water and other necessities. The men were hungry and thirsty.

  The men quickly consumed all the water and warm beer. The electricity had been off for more than 40 hours, so the milk and juices were spoiled. They ate all the candy bars and stale bakery goods in record time. There were also about 30 pairs of sunglasses in the store. When two men reached for the last pair at the same time it turned into a serious disagreement. No one tried to stop the argument.

  Their differences quickly escalated into a fight, and the two men took their concerns outside. All side bets were on the larger man. But soon it was clear who the winner would be. Claudio Martinez weighed maybe 150 pounds. But he was quick and lethal. The bigger man relied on his superior weight and strength. Claudio relied on cunning and strategy. After two minutes of chasing Claudio and attempting to slug him with his larger fists the big man’s chest was heaving. He was used to pumping bar bells. Claudio was used to jumping rope. When the big guy put his hands on his hips to rest, Claudio moved in. The smaller man moved to his right and then countered left. Because he was tired and slower the larger man couldn’t move fast enough to keep up with Claudio’s quick kick to the big man’s knee. The surrounding crowd barked an audible, “Ohhh!” as the large man’s knee snapped at the joint. The big guy collapsed down to his one good knee. A hand came down to the asphalt to support his upper body weight.

  The larger man knew he was in trouble and raised his other hand up in a gesture of surrender. But Claudio was already moving f
orward, planning to kick the man in the head. Claudio’s boot connected like an NFL kicker’s shoe met a football at kickoff. His head would have traveled 30 yards if it hadn’t been attached to his neck.

  The impact was decisive. Blood sprayed the clothing of the men standing in the direction of the well-placed kick. The big man’s head and body rose a few inches and then dropped like a rock to the pavement below. And before his head could bounce on the asphalt, Claudio stomped down on the big man’s head twice. The first stomp cracked the skull. The second stomp killed the man dead and exposed his brains.

  Ivan calmly watched the entire episode while leaning against the outdoor DVD machine. He had his arms folded across his chest. A tootsie roll pop was stuck in his mouth. The unruly fight concerned Ivan. It was just the kind of activity that could destroy his plans. Seeing men fight over a pair of sunglasses was such a waste. For the last three days Ivan had been thinking about what the future might hold for himself and the men he was with. Most importantly he needed some way to keep these men together. He needed a plan. Otherwise, they would break apart into small gangs and end up fighting each other for turf, dominance or just the fun of watching fights like this one.

  Claudio stepped back from the dead man’s body. He was tired too, but he had won. The men were quiet now as they looked down at the dead man’s body. Just then a slow and methodical clapping began. It was Ivan. He continued to clap as he walked forward the center of the men, where Claudio stood, and the dead man lay. The crowd of convicts moved back to let him through.

  “Congratulations!” offered Ivan as he walked confidently into the circle, keeping his eyes on Claudio. Ivan spoke just loud enough so all the surrounding men could hear his voice clearly, but he directed his remarks to Claudio. “And we have a victor,” continued Ivan as he lifted Claudio’s hand into the air. Claudio watched Ivan closely but did not react. He was still breathing pretty hard.

  Then Ivan turned to the men and began, “That was entertaining, no… but also very wasteful.”

  That brought a few murmurs from the men. A few of them looked at each other. They didn’t understand what Ivan was getting at.

  “We walk for three days now, and so far we seem to be only people left alive in all of Vegas town,” continued Ivan, as he gestured to the surrounding landscape. “Everything around is now free to us, free to take. But still we fight over a pair of sunglasses?” questioned Ivan.

  The would-be leader looked around the group to see if anyone was following his line of thinking. “Not many were… yet,” he thought to himself. So, he started again.

  “We are not only survivors my brothers, we are now Kings of the earth. Obviously there are few people left alive, so we can do what we want. No one will tell us where to live, when to get up or what to eat. We answer to no one!”

  That brought a few grunts of agreement from the men. Especially from those closest to Ivan.

  “Do Kings of the Earth need to fight over a pair of sunglasses?” questioned Ivan.

  “No,” said one of the men.

  “No,” repeated several more.

  Ivan was moving around inside the circle of men now. He’d turn to them from time to time.

  “That’s right, my brothers,” continued Ivan. “We take what we want because we are the Kings of the Earth now. If we stick together, band together as one mighty army, no one could possibly challenge us. Do you see?”

  Many of the men were now shaking their heads in agreement. Many were giving shouts of support.

  “There is no need to fight among ourselves for anything,” offered Ivan. “And we will be stronger if we support each other, and if we organize.”

  Once again, everyone was buying into the wisdom of Ivan’s ideas.

  “You have noticed electricity is no more. So, all frozen or cold food is dead to us. We can’t eat this food. But we need to feed ourselves three times a day, correct?” questioned Ivan as he looked into the face of one of the men.

  One of the other men instantly replied, “Yea, what are we gonna eat?”

  “Right,” responded Ivan. “What are we to eat? What are we to do?”

  No one offered a suggestion. Finally, Ivan spoke again.

  “I say we find the best hotel in Vegas, claim it as our own, and then get ourselves organized. We’ll need food, water, weapons and …” Ivan hesitated for a moment to drive home his last suggestion, “Entertainment.”

  The word “Entertainment” brought a lot of smiles from the men’s faces. They began looking at each other and nodding in agreement. When they all looked back at Ivan he spoke again.

  “I say we march to Bellagio hotel on Vegas strip. I have read it is most luxurious hotel in world. We occupy first few floors, and every man gets his own room.”

  That brought a cheer from the gang.

  “We take whatever food and water we find along the way. So, we will need sacks or backpacks to carry it in. From now on, there is no need to fight among ourselves. From now on, we only fight those who are foolish enough to oppose us – the Army of Vegas,” said Ivan.

  That brought another round of cheers from the men.

  “Once we are in hotel we meet as Army of Vegas and organize ourselves into teams.”

  The men were convinced now, even a little excited. They seemed eager to have a plan. Ivan’s Russian bosses had taught him repeatedly that most men crave leadership. They naturally want to belong to something bigger than just themselves. Ivan knew there might be a few who would decide to take off on their own and create their own gang, but he would deal with those distractions later. For now, they needed good shelter and a week or so to get organized.

  He looked around at the men one last time and with a smile on his face pointed to the east and said, “To Bellagio!”

  The men didn’t hesitate and moved immediately toward the road and away from the cleaned out convenience store. Only three men strayed behind – Ivan, Claudio, and the large dead many lying on the asphalt. Ivan reached out to Claudio before he got too far and motioned him to stay back with him.

  Ivan reached down and retrieved the sunglass still gripped in the dead man’s hand. He held them out to Claudio and said, “Here, you earned these.”

  Claudio reached out and took the glasses from Ivan. “Thank you,” said Claudio as he slid the mirrored glasses on to his face.

  “You look good in them,” responded Ivan.

  “Thank you again,” said Claudio, but this time he said it with a broad smile on his face.

  Ivan nodded his head in the direction of the road and said, “Walk with me for moment, please.”

  Ivan looked around slowly to make sure none of the others were close enough to overhear what he had to say to Claudio. The two men started walking just as Ivan spoke. “We will need to find and distribute weapons to men. But I think it could be complicated.”

  Claudio turned his head to Ivan as they walked. He nodded in understanding.

  So, Ivan continued, “If we just give guns to everyone we might be shooting each other every time there is disagreement, no?”

  “Yea,” said Claudio.

  “So, we need plan or strategy where men can be trained to use weapons but not carry them until they can be trusted,” suggested Ivan.

  “Some kind of certification program,” offered Claudio.

  “Yes, certification,” responded Ivan energetically

  Ivan realized Claudio was a quick thinker. When Claudio said the word certification Ivan wondered if the man had been in the army or something. Many men he’d known in his Russian gang were ex-military. Perhaps this small man could be useful. They both walked in silence for a few more moments. Ivan was deep in thought.

  “I wonder if you’d be interested in job. It is full time opportunity and benefits are excellent,” suggested Ivan.

  The two men continued walking few steps behind the Army of Vegas in their newly inspired search for the Bellagio hotel.

  “Yea, I might be interested,” said Claudio as he raised a h
and to adjust his new sunglasses.

  Chapter 33: Overpass

  Major Mark Harris and his platoon of bicyclists stood on the Orange freeway. Each person stood by their specially equipped bikes and attached trailers. They all wore their bulletproof vests, per Mark’s order. It wasn’t too cold this morning and so they wore their warm weather pants, a light shirt and just the vests. Susan suggested they’d be more comfortable with less clothing since they’d quickly heat up from pedaling their bikes. Everyone had their Bushmaster ARC combat rifles strapped across their backs. Beretta’s were strapped into holsters. Jake was fidgeting with his vest. He hated the restriction.

  Mark wanted to say something to the group before the formally started their journey. It was a long way to Salt Lake City and who knew what lay ahead of them.