The Secret History of Las Vegas

by Chris Abani

  Fred put up her arms in surrender.

  I’m sorry, she said.

  Now, where were we, gentlemen?

  Discussing the possibility of some Frankensteinian surgery, Fire said.

  I never mentioned surgery, Sunil said.

  You were talking about removing me from my brother’s body, Fire hissed.

  If it were removed from the body, the small intestine would stretch twenty-two feet, Water said.

  The MRI shows some unusual results in the brain area, Sunil said.

  Well, I am a genius, Fire said.

  Yes, well, as it happens, this does concern your brain, Fire. You see, when we are at rest, even asleep, there are certain areas of the brain that are lit up, and when we are animated, speak, think, or react emotionally, different parts of the brain light up. Do you follow me?

  I just said I was a genius, Doc. Of course I follow you, Fire said.

  Well, it seems that your scan revealed something a little disturbing. The only areas that are lit up in your brain are at the old brain; you know, the medulla oblongata, the part that governs your autonomic systems. Your brain, for all other intents and purposes, is dead. The scan suggests that you are brain dead, Sunil said.

  What the fuck, Doc, Fire said.

  Really, Sunil, Fred began.

  Sunil turned to her. Please stay out of this, he said. Now, he continued, turning back to Fire, something tells me you already knew this. So I want you to tell me exactly how can you be both so animated and brain dead at the same time?

  I’m a yogi, Fire said, and laughed. Fuck, Doc, I told you when you met us. We are King Kongo, African Witchdoctor. We have strange powers, man. What can I tell you? We should be in a comic book, not a psych ward.

  This is serious, Sunil said. I want to release you, but certain people here want to keep you here for tests, particularly given the new information on your brain.

  One out of twenty people have an extra rib, Water said.

  Here’s what I know, Sunil said. Water is completely healthy and his brain is fully functional. In fact, according to his MRI, his brain is fully lit up. It would seem from the MRI that Water is in fact the genius.

  The twins looked away.

  I would go so far as to say that there is no Fire and Water. Just Water. Here’s what I believe, and correct me if I am wrong. Fire was born brain dead, alive mostly because he had autonomic function. When the doctors wanted to remove him, it became clear to Selah that Fire would die very quickly if he were removed from Water, so she decided against the operation, which most mothers would do. Am I right so far?

  The twins remained silent, and Fred moved uncomfortably in her chair.

  It was bad enough that you were conjoined, but to have a parasitic, brain-dead, half-formed twin was worse, Sunil continued, ignoring Fred. So my guess is that you developed a way to make it appear as though Fire was alive. The bigger you made his character, the more believable he was. It’s a very good plan, and I think you are very gifted.

  Fuck you, Doc, Fire said. Where do you get off talking to me like that!

  I’m sorry, Sunil said, not sounding very sorry at all. Look, I don’t want to keep you here. Some things have come to light in the last twenty-four hours that place you very low on my priority list. I would like to establish that you are mentally capable and let you go. Then I can focus on what I want to do. Do you understand?

  I don’t know what you’re talking about, Fire said.

  Sunil turned to Water.

  No pithy fact from you, Water?

  Fact, Water said. Something known to exist, or to have happened, something known to be true. Fire and Water are facts.

  Really, Sunil asked.

  Dr. Singh, that is enough, Fred snapped.

  Gentlemen, I have devised a very simple test to prove the fact of Fire and Water. I would like you both to talk at the same time.

  What, Doc, Fire asked.

  I’ve been so stupid, Sunil began.

  I could have told you that, Fire said.

  Fred smiled.

  Remember when I asked you about Water’s tongue, the first night I examined you?

  No, I don’t, Fire said.

  I asked you if Water’s mouth was always a little parted and his tongue moves and you said yes. I should have known then but I was so wrapped up in my own recent struggles. That’s a classic tell for ventriloquism.

  There are no classic tells for ventriloquism, Fire said.

  Then prove me wrong. Both of you speak at the same time.

  May I, Doc, Fred asked, walking over to the twins.

  Sure, Sunil said.

  Sitting next to the twins, Fred gently touched Water’s face and embraced him. As she did so, she slipped her cell phone from her shirt pocket into the generous sweatshirt he had on. Pulling away, she kissed Water gently.

  Tell him, she said. It’s okay.

  Water smiled and nodded. Turning to Sunil, he said, You are right, Doc.

  About what, Sunil asked.

  About everything.

  Sunil sat back and let out his breath. He had been half hoping that he wasn’t right. He got up and crossed to his desk, where he’d left the bottle of whiskey, and poured himself a drink. What a weekend. It was hard to believe all that had happened since Friday, and now this revelation. He almost wished the twins hadn’t been performing. Before he knew it was true there was the slight chance that he could release them. Now he knew he couldn’t. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that they were psychopaths. No, that Water was a psychopath. If he could pull off this act for so many years, then he could do anything. Sunil turned around and sat on the edge of his desk.

  What were you doing at the lake with all that blood, he asked.

  I really was just swimming. The water of the lake feels good, takes the pressure of Fire off my side. Do you know how much muscle control it takes to hold up a dead twin? Water is so very soothing and it’s not like I can take a dip in my local gym’s pool.

  I suppose not, Sunil said. And the blood?

  I knew about the body dumps; I couldn’t risk a body.

  Smart, Sunil said. Enough theater to attract law enforcement, but I still don’t know why.

  Sunil, Fred said.

  Yes?

  Can we cover Fire up, she said. He’ll be fine under the sweatshirt. He’s used to it. The truth is he freaks me out a bit, those eyes. Always has.

  Like Ed Mordake’s twin, Sunil said. Cover him up. It’s fine. I’m a little freaked out too. Now that I know the truth, it’s like having an animated corpse looking at you.

  Fred nodded.

  Tell me something, Sunil said.

  Which of us are you asking, Fred said.

  Both of you, either of you. I know you’re members of the Downwinder Nation, a radical group. What does the Downwinder Nation do, exactly?

  We are committed to the eradication of dangerous military research in Nevada, Arizona, and Utah. We find ways to close down facilities engaged in such research.

  After everything that had happened in the last few days, Sunil wasn’t as surprised as he might have otherwise been. This new information was just one more piece of a crazy week. And do you intend to close us down? I suppose that’s why you are here, right?

  We do what we can, Water said.

  Why risk telling me all this? What is going to stop me from turning you in? You are threatening to destroy my research.

  You won’t turn us in, Fred said.

  How do you know I won’t?

  Because you have more pressing matters on your mind, Fred said. I met a man outside who I think is looking for you. He has a gun with a silencer.

  That’s it. We’re done here, Sunil said. I’m calling security to escort you out of the building.

  With that, Sunil picked up the rece
iver and dialed the guard. After hanging up he said to Water: You realize I cannot let you go now.

  Water just smiled.

  I’ll see you soon, my love, Fred whispered to Water, loud enough for Sunil to hear. With that she followed the guard out, without a backward glance.

  See you around, Doc, Water said. Or maybe you won’t. Remember, we are the witchdoctor. Laughing, he followed the security guard out.

  When they left, Sunil walked back to his desk and poured another drink. He carried it over to the wall of zebu. Maybe Asia had been right. Maybe it was some tarot that he had unconsciously assembled. Too bad he couldn’t read it.

  To you, Asia, he said, raising his glass. I hope you are safe.

  He downed the drink, straightened his clothes, and headed out to see Brewster. As he waited for the elevator, his cell rang. It was Sheila’s number.

  Sheila, he said, I’ve been worried about you.

  It’s me, Sunil, Eskia said.

  You fokker! I’ll kill you.

  Someone will die today, that’s for sure, Eskia said. And if you don’t want it to be Sheila, you had better come downstairs now. I’ll be waiting.

  Don’t harm her, you shit. She had nothing do with this.

  And Jan? What did she have to do with anything?

  Why now, Eskia?

  If you’re not here in ten minutes I’m leaving with Sheila.

  Don’t harm her. I’m getting into the elevator now.

  Sunil hung up and rode down to the lobby. In the parking lot, Salazar watched Eskia start up his car and pull up to the front of the institute. He saw Sunil come out and get into Eskia’s car. As they drove off, Salazar started up the Bug and followed.

  By her car, Fred lit up a cigarette and watched the cars leave. She glanced at her watch. It was midafternoon. It wouldn’t be long now. She’d better get going. She pulled her car around to the back of the institute, where deliveries were made. A Dumpster hid her car from view.

  She settled down to wait. Water should be out anytime now.

  Fifty-five

  Behind them, the sun was burning a hole in Vegas with the magnifying glass of the MGM. Sunil’s right hand was secured to the door handle with a zip tie.

  Just in case you think about escaping, Eskia said.

  He did it as soon as Sunil sat down, before he had a moment to realize that Sheila wasn’t in the car. As they headed west, Sunil pulled at the door.

  Where is Sheila?

  I don’t have her, Eskia said. She was just the lure.

  Where are we going?

  For a ride. Somewhere private where we can talk honestly.

  You could have just walked up to me and shot me anytime, Sunil said.

  And how would that have been any fun?

  You stole the disk from my place, Sunil said. Do you plan on selling the contents? If so, good luck with that; it’s password protected.

  I don’t need luck. I have you. I was trained to be like your friend Eugene. You will tell me everything.

  Eugene wasn’t my friend, Sunil said.

  How could you work for him, harming your own people? Give up every last shred of dignity to serve those killers. But you were not alone in that particular weakness, and thanks to the humanity of our leaders like Madiba and Tutu we forgave scum like you. But I will never forgive you for Jan.

  Do you think that’s what Jan would want?

  If you speak her name again I will shoot you right here, so help me God.

  Something in his tone told Sunil he wasn’t kidding. Fine, he said. But can you at least tell me where we are going?

  To your reckoning. Now, shut up while I drive.

  Behind them Salazar took swigs from the bottle of whiskey in his jacket pocket. He had to keep reminding himself that the coffee cup, though still warm, was not full of coffee.

  Slowly Vegas slid behind them like a mirage and was soon swallowed up by desert and sand. The sun was tilting west.

  Fifty-six

  Sheila stood by the slot machines as she waited in line for Starbucks. It had never bothered her before, but now the tackiness of Vegas felt like a layer of dirt she couldn’t quite wash off.

  Really, did there need to be gambling in the airport? But that was the way of Vegas. To wring you dry and then send you off poor and broken but still full of hope—enough so that you would come back to lose, or win, depending on the fates.

  While she waited, she listened to Sunil’s message again. Typically he waited a full day to return her calls and when he did he tried to make it sound like there was something other than his tardiness involved.

  Double macchiato, she said to the overly cheerful barista.

  What size?

  Medium.

  Grande it is.

  Sheila smiled. Starbucks Italian—its own special language. She moved down to the other end of the coffee bar. In a few minutes she was shaking fake sugar into her cup.

  She should call Sunil. He sounded so worried. But when she dialed, it rang and rang. No answer.

  Typical, she thought. She was going to hang up without leaving a message, but at the last minute she changed her mind.

  Hi, Sunil, it’s Sheila. I’m at the airport. I decided to leave a day early for Cape Town. I met Asia. She seems nice. So, eh, unless there’s something that needs my attention, I’m going to be boarding in a couple of hours. Okay, I’m going to stop rambling now. Call me. It’ll be nice to hear your voice before I leave.

  She hung up. In the corner by the vending machines a woman had just won on the penny slots. Sheila sighed. She’d never felt so alone.

  Fifty-seven

  You should let me answer my phone, Sunil said. If I don’t, it will raise suspicions.

  Eskia laughed.

  You overestimate your own importance, he said. No one’s looking for you. And in a couple of hours I’ll be done with you, and by tomorrow the coyotes will have done with you too if you’re lucky.

  Will killing me change anything? Bring Jan back?

  Don’t try to work me, Sunil.

  The things I did, you did, the people who died, that was a different time, Eskia. We were different people then. Hasn’t there been enough unnecessary death? All of us from that time, we have so much to atone for, so much to forgive. Can you really handle any more?

  Eskia laughed: You don’t understand anything. It didn’t stop for me. I still do what I did then. I still clean up the mess of spineless men like you. I am still fighting the war, Sunil. It didn’t end just because Madiba was freed and the world congratulated itself. It’s still going on; the Boer are still at war with us, and we with them. You will never know the depth of my sacrifice. What I have given up for the ideal of a free and equal South Africa. The sacrifices I made, I made not just for that ideal. I made them for love, for the love of a particular woman. Jan was that woman. And what you and your friends did in Vlakplaas took that away from me, demeaned everything I gave, made all the blood on my hands meaningless. When you took Jan, you took my grace. But your death will buy back my meaning. You should feel honored that you will be my Isaac and I your Abraham.

  Listen to yourself, Sunil said, and there was something like pity in his voice.

  I think we’re being followed, Eskia said, abruptly changing the conversation. Yes, he said, we are. He pulled off onto the shoulder, the tires throwing up small pebbles.

  Salazar smiled. That old trick, he thought, shooting by, pretending to go on. When Eskia pulled back onto the road, he could still see him in the rearview mirror. Cat and mouse, Salazar said. He liked that. I can still follow you from up here, he said.

  Eskia, Sunil said. There is still time to stop.

  Stop?

  You can’t believe all that juvenile shit about giving so much for South Africa’s freedom just so you could be married to a white woman legally? That is the de
pth of self-delusion. You may have given up a lot for love, but it wasn’t for romantic love. It wasn’t. And don’t you think the rest of us paid a huge price? What is it with all this one-upping of trauma? That’s all the new South Africa seems to be about. Who suffered more, those who went to prison or those who stayed out, those who lost loved ones or those who didn’t. On and on, tallying an impossible math.

  Shut the fuck up, Eskia said. Try to die like a man, with some dignity, not this babbling that you think will save you. Do you think I have forgotten that once, a long time ago, we had a friendship? I never forgot that and yet here I am, resolved to kill you. No last-minute babbling will shake my resolve—you will die here today, alone, and I will bury you here. So please, if you must speak, make peace with your gods.

  Sunil was silent. There was nothing to be said. He was going to die here. Alone. He wondered if there was something he was supposed to think about, if his entire life was meant to flash before his eyes. If it was, it wasn’t happening to him. Instead all he felt was an overwhelming fatigue, and a curious empty detachment. As if he were watching all this in a movie. He felt only one niggling regret. That he had never let himself love again, not since Jan. What a waste that had been. All that guilt, all those years. What would it have felt like to let himself truly fall in love—with Asia, or Shelia? Would it have made this moment feel any different, because if there was any certainty here, it was the inevitability of today? Of this moment. In a strange, inexplicable way, it felt right. I’m going to die today, he thought, and it wasn’t as scary as he had expected it to be.

  Eskia turned off the freeway and onto a dirt road, headed for some disused buildings a few miles in the distance, in the shadow of a huge rock formation. Sunil was oddly impressed by it all—not only the eternity of the landscape but by the level of planning and effort and resolve Eskia had put into this.

  Perhaps I should have kept my research in South Africa instead of coming here to Las Vegas, Sunil thought. There would be no end of damaged people like Eskia that he could have studied, not to mention the entire Boer nation. Maybe psychopathy wasn’t born in the brain after all. Perhaps it wasn’t a function of which gland was closer to or farther from another. Maybe psychopathy was born in the heart, by shame; shame and a broken, betrayed heart. He liked this new line of thought. It didn’t lend itself to empirical exploration, but there was a beauty to it, he thought, something beyond the mechanistic. Perhaps it just means that I still have a heart, which in itself is no small miracle.