Las Vegas NV

by TW Brown

  “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.”

&nbs
p; “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.”

  ***

  “Five people in three days?” Will rubbed his face with his hands and shot a look at Joel. “You think this is the best thing for morale?”

  “I don’t give a damn about morale,” Joel snapped. “What I do care about is that people follow orders. I also care about the safety and security of this community. That young lady this morning was caught for the third time in as many days asleep at her post.”

  “So what does a person have to do around here to just simply be executed?” Debra ran her blade along the stone, paused, examined the blade’s sharpness, and then returned to the task, obviously not satisfied with it yet.

  “Rape, murder…negligence that results in the death of another of our citizens…desertion.” Joel ticked each item off on his fingers.

  “So that guy being held in the cell right now is to be executed?” she pressed.

  The man’s name was Shaun Simpson. He and a woman that he claimed to be his wife had shown up at their gates five days prior. Early this morning, the wife had been found trying to climb the fence and escape the compound. Initially, she’d been held as a potential deserter. During questioning, the woman revealed a number of bruises on her abdomen and thighs from the abuse perpetrated on her by the man who had claimed to be her husband.

  Leanne Sasser related her story to a pair of female guards—one of which immediately sent for Debra—about how she’d become a prisoner of Shaun Simpson. She’d been a dancer in one of Vegas’s many exotic reviews. At almost six feet tall, and with a dancer’s body, Leanne had been no stranger to gaining the attention of men. When all hell had broken loose, she’d been trapped in her apartment for almost a week when Shaun Simpson and three other men arrived. They’d set about searching the apartments for supplies and discovered Leanne. She’d been so grateful, that she almost willingly gave herself to the men. After all, she reasoned, they’d saved her life.

  Over the next several days, she quickly began to regret being saved. Her treatment grew more abusive by the day, eventually, the men showed no regard for her at all. She was almost happy the day they got trapped inside a small grocery store. She thought that she would die there, and was almost ready to accept it.

  Shaun had somehow managed to overpower one of his fellow survivors who happened to be on watch one night. He created a diversion that brought the walking dead to where the other men were sleeping and then escaped with Leanne. For the next several hours, they ran for their lives. Each time they thought they’d found sanctuary, either humans or the undead would force them to run again.

  The next day, they’d seen Joel’s little party as they headed out on that failed attempt to save Conrad Parks. Shaun had just managed to elude the gang that Joel and his party all but annihilated. He decided that perhaps it would be to their best interest to join up. He’d made one thing very clear to Leanne; he would protect her, but she would adhere to the story that they were a couple. If he found out she tried to escape him, she would end up zombie bait.

  Debra had Shaun brought to her quarters that same hour. He was bleary eyed and stunk of alcohol which was already going to put the man in hot water. He was scheduled to be on the morning rover patrol, and the rules were that no alcohol was to be consumed within twenty-four hours of any job that revolved around security or working on the community’s power grid.

  Debra had looked the man up and down for a moment as he stood with his hands folded over his genitals. She’d smirked when the two guards who’d dragged him in and threw him on the ground had obviously not given him time to dress. His skin was pasty and flabby. It was made all the more unattractive by the thick reddish hair on his chest and back. He had splotches of freckles that were so dense in some spots that it almost made him look like he had some sort of horrible condition. His ginger-hued hair was thinning, and a pronounced bald spot was forming on his crown. As he pushed up to his feet after being thrown to her floor, she noted that even his teacup-sized bald spot had large, ugly freckles.

  She’d stared at him for minutes, enjoying the feeling of seeing the man break out in sweat before her eyes despite the chilly temperature in her room. His knees had been scraped either during his apprehension or as a result of having been thrown to her floor, and one of them bled freely until a trio of rivulets ran almost the length of his shin.

  “You like to threaten women?” Debra finally asked, pulling a knife from her belt and running the point of it under her nails.

  “What….no…who…?” the man stammered.

  “Leanne was caught trying to climb over the fences.” She paused and looked up, fixing the man with her hard gaze. “What does it say for you that a woman would rather risk being eaten by zombies or punished for desertion rather than spend another minute with you?”

  “I never did anything but save that woman,” Shaun tried to protest, but his words were weak and forced. His gaze went to the floor, which for Debra was a dead giveaway that he was lying to her.

  “Maybe I should be your new girlfriend.” Debra stuck her knife into the top of her desk and stood. “Would you like that, Shaun? Would you like me to be your new girlfriend?”

  The man shrunk back, his head shaking slowly in the negative. Debra stood and moved around her desk.

  “Am I not pretty enough?” she cooed with false sexuality, batting her eyelashes at the man and running her hands down her sides.

  In a flash, she lunged forward, sweeping the man’s legs out from under him with one booted foot that caught his ankles hard enough to make him yelp in pain as much as in surprise. Dropping down to her knees, she straddled the man and had him by the throat before he had the chance to understand what had happened.

  “Or am I just a bit too unlikely to take your crap?” Debra leaned down, her nose almost touching his. “You like your women soft and beatable, isn’t that right?”

  Shaun tried to shake his head, but Debra squeezed his throat tighter and he froze. His face began to turn a dark shade of red, and a few blue veins began to show up at his temples.

  “Am I making you angry?” Debra whispered, easing up on the man’s throat and sitting up just enough so that she could look down and see all of Shaun’s face.

  “I don’t…I didn’t—” he began, but Debra silenced him by placing her fingers over his lips.

  “Shhh, don’t speak. You see, the moment you talk, I’m gonna have to assume that you are lying, and being lied to pisses me off.” She narrowed her gaze, her eyes little more than slits with darkness glittering in them. “You don’t want to really piss me off, do you?”

  Shaun gave the slightest shake of his head. Debra smiled and let one of her hands reach behind her until she found his flaccid manhood. She gripped it in one gloved fist and then looked back down to lock eyes with the man beneath her. His eyes were wider than ever and she watched a single bead of sweat trickle down his left temple and vanish into his ear.

  “P-p-please,” he whimpered.

  “Did Leanne beg for you to stop doing whatever it is that you did to her? Did she cry as you beat her? Did she scream against the gag you stuffed into her mouth as you pounded her ribs thinking that nobody would notice that like they would a black eye or busted nose?” Shaun shook his head causing Debra to squeeze tighter. He changed his shake to a nod, and now tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. “Did you pretend that her cries during sex were simply out of pleasure from w
hat you were doing to her?”

  There was a pause, and when Debra squeezed again, he nodded once more.

  “What do you want from me? What do you want me to say?” he bawled. “I saved her. She owed me…I protected her.”

  “No!” Debra snarled, this time squeezing hard enough to make him yelp in pain. “You victimized her, kept her hostage, and you raped her.”

  “I never raped her!” Shaun protested.

  “You told her she had two choices…fuck you or be tossed out into the wild.” Debra released her grip and popped up to her feet in one swift move. Just as fast, she snatched her knife from the desk and knelt back down between Shaun’s legs. “You can call it whatever you like…but it’s rape.”

  With a flick of her wrist, she sliced Shaun’s penis down the center from the tip. He screamed in pain and began to thrash back and forth. Debra stepped over him and opened the door to her quarters. The same soldiers that had brought Shaun Simpson to her stood outside at a military parade rest.

  “Get him off my floor and to the infirmary. I want him saved if possible.” She stepped back and allowed the two guards to enter and grab the writhing form. “If he dies…big deal. But I’d like him to be saved if it doesn’t tax our resources. Tell the folks in medical they are not to use anything to lessen the pain.”

  Shaun had survived.

  He was being kept in a cell at the moment. The last report from the guard was that he seemed to be succumbing to an infection; that was an unacceptable ending in Debra’s mind.

  “We haven’t had a trial, but if he’s—” Joel began.

  “A trial?” Debra spat. “Are you serious?”

  “Very,” Joel said calmly. “We are not animals. There are still formalities that must be adhered to if we are going to build a proper society.”

  “There’s no way in—” she began, only for Joel to cut her off again.