Escaping Vegas

by Dennis Elder

  Ivan held Claudio by the arm for a second, looked around and whispered to him.

  “These women are precious cargo, no?” said Ivan.

  Claudio shook his head in understanding.

  “Make sure they are treated as such,” said Ivan. “Any man who damages this cargo in any way, I want you to shoot in the face. Make example for others. You understand?”

  Claudio shook his head again.

  “Then go,” said Ivan, as he released his second in command.

  Claudio jumped on his bike and started pedaling. The other ten men on his team immediately followed after him. Ivan walked with the riders out onto Las Vegas Boulevard. The ten other men who stayed with Ivan followed the Russian into the street. They all watched as the last of the riders and foot soldiers rounded the street corner and headed East on Flamingo Road.

  Three seconds later Ivan turned to the man who had previously climbed to the top of the Planet Hollywood Hotel.

  “Go back up to top of same hotel,” began Ivan. “Take two men with you. Bring binoculars, flashlights and five clipboards with paper.”

  The Thin man nodded his head up and down.

  “Watch for lights again. If you see any changes, like direction shift, or gun fire flashes, any changes, write what you see and throw down clipboards again, understand?”

  The Thin man shook his head again.

  “I will be down in street waiting for news,” said Ivan. “Go now, you are my eyes and ears.”

  The Thin man made a quick scan of the other nine men around Ivan. Four of the men were big and heavy. “They’d have heart attacks climbing them stairs,” he thought to himself. So, he picked two thinner guys, and they ran off together.

  Ivan stood and watched the three runners disappear into the night. His breathing had been heavy while he was issuing orders. Now that everyone was gone, his breathing slowly calmed. The big Russian also realized he didn’t have anything to do now but wait, relying on men he did not know or trust. He wished to himself that he had not sent Claudio out.

  He motioned to the remaining seven men to follow him. They would accompany him to the street next to the Planet Hollywood Hotel. There they would all wait for clipboard messages to come down from the Hotel’s rooftop.

  “Like manna from heaven” thought Ivan to himself, as he smiled slightly and then nervously checked for the pistol hidden in the belt along the small of his back.

  Chapter 117: Lights off

  During daylight hours Mark’s Marauders would have normally covered the last five miles up Highway 95 in less than thirty minutes. But they continued to repair flat tire after flat tire. Mark rode at the front now. The choice to risk a shortcut was on him, and he felt all the more responsible for the safety of the group. He rode with his left hand on the handlebars and his right hand around the trigger grip of his Bushmaster automatic. It made riding harder, but he wasn’t worried about efficiency on this leg of the trip.

  The twenty other remaining souls pedaled along with Mark down Highway 95. Their elevation had risen slightly over the last mile and they were now coming to the crest of the hill before a long drop back down through Duck Creek. The creek was one of the lower areas of the Las Vegas valley. While Mark couldn’t see very far ahead, he had paid close attention to each of the off ramp signs. Using his photographic memory, he knew exactly where they were on the map at all times. They had just passed Russel road and he was watching for the next sign. When he looked back down again he suddenly noticed a large number of flickering lights about a thousand yards ahead.

  Panic shot through his mind and he shouted back to the group, “Flat, Flat, Flat!”

  As the group came to an abrupt stop, Mark turned back to everyone and shouted clearly, “Lights off, Lights off!”

  Chapter 118: Can’t argue with that

  Julio and his other ten co-riders had experienced an equally frustrating time with flat tires. The broken glass on Route 95 had been just as merciless North of Duck Creek as it had been South. Because the men had so little training or experience with repairing tires, they decided to quite fixing their flat tires altogether, and just rode the best they could. That caused a number of accidents when the men went to fast or tried to turn too quickly.

  The bike rider’s progress had been so poor that they were now less than half a mile ahead of their own 40-man walking support team.

  Then one of the 11 bike riders hit a chunk of metal from a nearby car wreck and the impact twisted the handle bars out of the man’s hands and sent him hard down to the pavement. The large man got up, cursed several times at his bike, picked it up over his head and threw it over the freeway dividing wall to the other side of the road.

  The other men had stopped with their buddy fell off his bike. They chuckled to each other when the bike sailed over the concrete wall. Inwardly they were feeling the same way about their own bikes.

  “All right, all right,” shouted Julio. “Let’s take a break.”

  One of the other men spoke.

  “Hey Julio,” said the man a few bikes behind them. “These bikes are crap.”

  The majority of the other men immediately agreed and added their own tailored responses.

  “It’s not the bikes, man,” said Julio. “It’s all the glass on the roads.”

  “No matter,” replied another man. “This ain’t workin out so good.”

  “Yea,” responded Julio. “Can’t argue with that.”

  The men stood together for a minute or two, not really sure what to do. Julio looked back North on Route 95. The other 40 men had almost caught up with them.

  “I say we wait on the other guys and walk from now on,” continued Julio. “The hell with these things,” as he let his bike fall to the ground.

  The other men followed their leader’s example and one-by-one dropped their bikes by the side of the road.

  Chapter 119: Clipboards again

  It had been 30 minutes since Ivan sent the men to the top of the Hotel. He finally decided to sit down on the cold concrete sidewalk and rest his back against the stone planter box that ran along next to it. He looked up into the sky momentarily and saw noticed how the stars perfectly framed the buildings all around him. He sensed the season was changing and colder weather was due. It wouldn’t be anything like a Russian Winter, but the temperature was dropping and he wished he’d brought a jacket.

  Suddenly a loud clatter shattered the silence as a clipboard sailed into the middle of the street and bounced violently to a halt. Ivan stood up and motioned to the men to find the clipboard and bring it to him.

  Two minutes later one of the men handed Ivan a torn piece of paper still attached to a badly broken wooden clipboard. Ivan swung his flashlight over the writing. The other men crowded around. Ivan read the message slowly.

  “Group of twenty lights stopped, then turned lights off. One group of our riders moving South and near contact with group of twenty. But slowed down, and close to support soldier lights. Don’t see other team.”

  Ivan pulled out his map and set it down on the ground. Then he read the message again before looking up toward the top of Planet Hollywood’s rooftop.

  “What does mean, slowed down and close to support soldiers?” questioned Ivan.

  The big Russian showed his frustration and screamed up toward the sky, “What mean slowed down, close to soldiers?”

  Chapter 120: Fields of Fire

  When Mark first saw the approaching flashlights ahead of him he seriously considered turning tail and running. “Better to run away and live to fight another day,” was a sound military strategy – one he had implemented many times while patrolling in Afghanistan’s remote backcountry.

  Another strategy he’d followed with equal effect was to sometimes surprise the enemy by attacking him when he least expected it, even if the enemy had superior numbers. He and the other ex-special forces members of his team quickly discussed both options and weighed the pros and cons. Then Mark made a decision.

  He instruc
ted Sylvia Harmon to take the kids, Little Sally and Cedric back fifty yards and hide inside a break in the concrete wall that ran down the middle of route 95.

  Then he positioned half of their remaining 18 automatic rifles behind the three-foot tall concrete dividing wall that ran between the two lanes of traffic and the other nine rifles across the highway, down low and below the lip of the road’s shoulder. Four of his men with SmartScopes were on one side and four were on the other. The SmartScopes would tell them exactly where the approaching targets stood when Mark gave the order to fire.

  Just before he positioned everyone, he gathered the group around for a quick lecture on fields of fire.

  “During World War I the German army introduced and perfected something called crossing fields of fire,” began Mark. “They would designate a killing area where they would fire machine guns across a single area from two or more sides. We are going to do the same thing tonight.”

  Mark used his hands to describe how it worked.

  “Limit your direction of fire to directly in front of you and never, never cross over into the area covered by the person to your right or left. Everyone is to wait until I shout the word “fire.” Then continue firing until you hear the words, “cease fire” from someone around you.”

  The major wished he had time to test his newbie’s skills on this, but there just wasn’t any time.

  “Short controlled bursts,” emphasized Mark. “Drop down behind cover when you replace your magazines, and then pop back up and continue firing. Know where your extra magazines are.”

  Caroline asked, “But it’s so dark, how will we see, Major?”

  The muzzle blast from our rifles will light up the targets in front of you. Don’t worry, once everyone starts firing it will look like noon day out there,” answered Mark.

  “And whatever you do, don’t fire directly across the road. Remember we are directly across for each other. So, keep your rifles pointed down the road at a forty-five degree angle,” emphasized the Major, again pointing at a forty five degree angle to the road ahead.

  “Last but not least, no mercy,” emphasized Mark. “These men or convicts mean to kill us and do even worse things to our women and children. So, no mercy! Shoot um dead until nothing moves out there and listen for the cease fire order.”

  Any final questions?” asked Mark as he looked around the group.

  No one moved.

  “No matter what happens know that you are part of this family and we are going to protect this family no matter what it takes, understood people?” added Mark.

  Chapter 121: Flawlessly

  Fifty one men loosely marched up route 95 along the South bound lane. They were spread out. Most of the men’s rifles hung across their sweating backs. They’d been walking or riding bikes for about 45 minutes and hadn’t taken a break. None of them thought about bringing any water or food.

  “If they came this way, we should be seein those lights by about now,” Julio said to himself.

  Some of the other men with him were thinking the same thing.

  “I think we missed um,” said a man next to Julio. “Musta taken the other road.”

  “Maybe,” responded Julio. “Maybe not.”

  The other man took in a breath to add a second opinion but he never got the chance to say the words.

  “Fire,” shouted Major Mark Harris.

  The roar of a single automatic rifle on full auto is ear splitting. That is why people who target shoot always wear ear protection headgear. But the sound of 18 automatic machine guns going off at the same time gives off a violent physical shockwave of sound. However, the sound was not near as shocking as the bullets were to the unaware men walking down the freeway.

  “Mark was right,” thought Caroline to herself as he she fired her gun methodically. “It does look like noon day out there.”

  The Major’s crossfire strategy worked flawlessly. Every one of the forty men on the road was hit by at least two bullets before any of them realized what was happening. While is seemed much longer to the newbies, the brutal firing lasted for about 15 seconds. Only the experienced Special Forces soldiers shot fast enough go through two full clips.

  Three seconds after the last man appeared to stop moving, Mark started waving his hand across his face and shouting, “Cease fire, Cease fire!”

  It took several more seconds for everyone to hear the command and finally stop firing.

  “Check your magazines, make sure they are full before you come out,” barked the Major.

  “Randy, Tyrone, hold your positions and provide cover while the rest of us mount up,” added Mark. “Everyone back to your bike, double time.”

  They had also rehearsed what they’d do when the firing quit. Everybody picked their gear up and moved back like real professionals.

  Mark had assumed all of his team was OK. He would do a head count once everyone was back to the bikes again. The dead men never had time to aim their guns, let alone fire them. But Tyrone and Randy kept their Bushmasters leveled on the twisted bodies in front of them. Their SmartScopes continued to clearly illuminate their warm but soon to be cold bodies. Thankfully nothing moved. Once they heard Mark yell, “All clear,” Randy and Tyrone shouldered their rifles and sprinted back to the group and their bikes.

  Chapter 122: Calvary to the rescue

  Claudio and his biking buddies had much better luck riding out on the 582. They had only one flat tire along the way. Not much traffic on 582 the night of the radiation blast. So, they’d made much better time than the team led by Julio. They were about a thousand feet South of Galleria Drive when they heard the gunfire.

  Claudio hit his breaks and the other men followed his example. He turned back over his right shoulder and listened to the roar of the automatic fire. The sound died out almost as fast as it started. His military experience told him it was a one sided battle and one of the two sides were most likely all dead. All during the bike ride out he’d been thinking about what to do if the group they were hunting suddenly showed up on the other road. He remembered the last off ramp wasn’t too far back to the North.

  “We need to head back to the last crossroad and work our way West to Route 95,” shouted Claudio, as he quickly turned his bike around. “Sounds like the other team made contact with the women.”

  The other ex-convicts turned their bikes around clumsily and followed after Claudio.

  “Just hold ‘um there for a few minutes,” thought Claudio to himself. “Just hold on until we can get in behind ‘um.”

  Claudio raced his bike as fast as he could. The less fit men behind him slowly fell behind.

  Chapter 123: What’s it mean

  Ivan couldn’t hear the roar of the gunfire out on Route 95. But three minutes later he clearly heard the sound of a second clipboard as it hit one of the cars parked across the street. He sent the seven men out again to find the message.

  It took the men longer this time, maybe seven more minutes passed until he heard one of the guys shout, “Found it!”

  “Bring it here!” shouted back Ivan, impatiently.

  The man sprinted back to Ivan and handed him a piece of paper.

  Ivan placed the sheet of paper on the hood of the car next to him and pointed his flashlight at the message. All the men were now gathered around Ivan, hoping to hear what the message said. Again, Ivan read the message slowly.

  “Bright lights flashed about ten to fifteen seconds long. Then nothing. One of us thinks he heard popping noises to the East. Two minutes later we saw other lights coming back West maybe, not sure.

  Ivan didn’t say anything this time. He just kept looking at the paper and reading the message to himself. The other men looked at each other. Everyone was afraid to say anything to Ivan. They knew he could be unpredictable. Finally, one of the younger men, spoke up.

  “So, what’s that mean?” the younger man said. “Did we get um? Did the ambush work?

  Ivan didn’t look up. He was thinking. Still none of the other
s dared to speak.

  “It means two groups met in darkness and one side killed other side,” said Ivan.

  “So, we got um then,” added the younger man. “We got the women, right.”

  Ivan crumpled the message in his fist and threw it on the ground.

  “So, we got the honeys,” emphasized the young man again.

  Ivan had been thinking hard when his attention was diverted to the young and over exuberant man claiming success. When he looked harder at the young man, the youthful exuberance disappeared.

  “But I thought it meant…” offered the young man.