Las Vegas NV

by TW Brown

  “So why don’t we go down to his cell and get that formality out of the way.”

  It wasn’t a question, and Joel was already on his feet. Debra cocked an eyebrow in curiosity at the man and then glanced over at Will who only shrugged in response. The trio exited Joel’s office and made their way to the cell where Shaun was being kept. The guard hopped to his feet at their arrival, making certain that he was not mistaken for being asleep while on duty.

  “Mister Landon, sir,” the man said in a rush, making a mess of getting caught between trying to bow and salute at the same time.

  “We’re here to see the prisoner.”

  The guard fumbled with the keys and opened the door, stepping aside to allow the trio of Joel, Debra, and Will to enter the room. A man lying on a cot looked up, his pale face almost gray.

  “Your name Shaun Simpson?” Joel asked calmly. The man nodded. “Did you inflict those bruises on a young lady named Leanne Sasser?” He nodded again. “And did you tell her that her safety relied on her allowing you to have sex with her at your discretion?” This time the man’s eyes flicked to Debra. He paused for a moment, but eventually nodded very slightly.

  “Bring him to the top of the dam,” Joel said, turning on his heel and leaving the room.

  He walked to his room and picked up the microphone that had recently been installed. There were speakers throughout the complex. If things worked as they were supposed to, his voice would be heard by everyone present inside the fences.

  “Attention, all citizens.” He paused and took a sip of water. Once he felt he’d given enough time for everybody to stop what they were doing and give him their full attention, he resumed speaking. “I want all personnel not on watch or performing a vital task to meet atop the dam in ten minutes. That is all.”

  It only took about five for everybody to gather, but Joel waited the entire ten. Occasionally, his eyes went over to where Debra and Will stood on either side of the kneeling Shaun Simpson. The man’s head was down, and his shoulders shook every so often with what Joel assumed were sobs. He’d held the man in disregard, but now he found that he despised him. He hated weakness. Anybody that preyed on those weaker was the epitome of that state of being.

  At last, the time had elapsed and Joel stepped forward. His back was to the Arizona side of the dam, and all his people were gathered in front of him. The white stripe that marked the two states’ borders were right at his heels.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, you have all been present for the times when I have had to sentence one of our people to the darkness. It is not a judgement that I take lightly. And I will say to you all that there may come a day when some of those so sentenced will be allowed to return to the light. They have committed crimes, and have been justly sentenced.” He cast another look towards Shaun and frowned. “But there are some crimes that will not be given a commutation. I want to make it clear right here and now, before all present, that if I hear that one of my people has committed the act of rape or murder, they will be tried, and when convicted, they will face a permanent punishment.” He paused again, and this time he turned to where Shaun was being kept. He strode to the man and gave a nod to Debra who unceremoniously yanked Shaun to his feet.

  “Death.” He spoke that word just loud enough that all those present could hear. That single syllable seemed to float in the air for several seconds.

  “This citizen, Shaun Simpson, has committed the act of rape. He forced one of our women to have sex with him under the premise that it would be the only way she could remain safe. I have found him guilty of this crime, and now I will pass sentence before the community.” He motioned for Debra and Will to bring him forward.

  The man’s head rose and confirmed Joel’s suspicions. The tracks of his tears were visible and his eyes were bloodshot and puffy.

  “I didn’t rape her,” the man whimpered.

  “Trial’s over, you lost,” Debra snarled, punching the man in the kidneys and dropping him to his knees.

  “If the victim would like to come forward and make any final statements to the accused, she may do so now,” Joel called out. He hadn’t expected any response, and so when a woman stepped forward, he was more than a little surprised. “Are you this man’s victim?” Joel reached a hand out to the woman, beckoning her to join him.

  She nodded. The crowd up to this point had been quiet, but there is always a buzz of conversation when you have everybody gathered in one place. In this moment, there was nothing. Silence. The only sound was the thrum of the dam and the sounds of water below. Every person gathered had gone still. All eyes were focused on the woman who stepped forward from the crowd.

  “What will you do to him?” Leanne asked. Her voice started soft, but gained strength with every word. “If you toss him over the fence, he’ll just do this again to the next girl he finds.”

  “You bitch!” Shaun roared, struggling with his captors. “You were trapped and about to be zombie chow when I found your sorry ass. If not for—” His tirade ended with a loud grunt and exhale.

  Debra stood over him, her shotgun unslung from one shoulder. The way she was holding it, Joel was certain that she’d just hit him in the gut with the stock of the weapon.

  “I think this shows us everything we need,” Joel said after Debra gave a curt nod. “Before I summoned you all, the accused actually confessed to the crime he was accused of. This outburst only displays his true character. If anybody would care to step forward on behalf of the accused, I will allow you to express why you believe that leniency should be shown. Otherwise, we will move forward with the sentencing.”

  Nobody moved, and the silence was replaced with a low buzz of conversation as people obviously talked amongst themselves; probably asking each other if anybody knew the man. After several seconds, and once it was clear that nobody would be stepping forward, Joel raised his hands to silence the crowd.

  “The sentence for rape is death. Will the accused step forward.” It wasn’t a request, and when Shaun shrunk back and away, tugging his arm to try and escape Debra and Will’s grip, he was jerked around and cuffed on the side of his head by Will who now seemed like he just wanted this entire ordeal to be over.

  “Shaun Simpson, you have been found guilty of rape. There can be no sentence that will give back to the victim that which you have taken. You are not able to make amends, and this community will be safer by removing you.” Joel paused long enough to look at Leanne. He noticed that her eyes were fixed on her attacker and that they gleamed with something cold and fierce. That truly made him feel good. If she retreated into a shell and became useless to the community, he would eventually have no choice but to have her removed.

  “Fine, toss me out. I won’t ever return, I promise,” the man almost pleaded. His voice was strained, and Joel could see his cheeks had turned almost purple.

  “We can’t do that.” Joel paused to ensure that everybody heard what he was about to say next. “Nobody leaves here once they commit to our community. I won’t have somebody coming in, learning about how we operate, and then maybe sneaking out to join some other group that has designs on taking what is ours. That is what I have you swear to when you ask to join us, and I’m certainly not going to unleash your kind on a world already in a weakened state. If I let you go, and if you were to repeat these terrible actions, then I would be an accomplice. I can’t live with that possibility on my conscience.”

  “Then wha—” the man started to ask, but Joel gave a nod with his chin to Debra.

  He actually had no idea what she would do. He wasn’t even sure she would be the one to kill him. Will could just as easily do the job. He didn’t have long to wait.

  Grabbing the man by the scruff of the neck, Debra went to the edge of the dam. She had one of Shaun’s arms wrenched behind his back, but the man still struggled since it was immediately obvious what she had planned. Will had let go, but he trailed along, a baton in hand to subdue if necessary.

  Casting a look back at the crowd, Joel
noticed that nobody had left, but a few had drifted either to the front, or to the back depending on the level of morbid curiosity that each possessed. Leanne was one of those who followed closely. By now, Shaun was struggling and starting to cry and beg for his life.

  “Is this what we are now?” he pleaded over his shoulder. “Are we going to allow one man and his little circle decide our fates? Is this—”

  Will struck hard, the tip of the baton driving into the man’s kidney, buckling him and causing him to squeal in pain. Shaun Simpson fell to his knees, arching his back and then trying to twist as Debra wrenched harder on his arm until Joel was certain that he heard a pop.

  “On your feet,” Debra snarled as she yanked hard to bring her charge up from his knees.

  Will stepped in and hooked an arm under the man’s other arm pit and began helping to haul him towards the edge of the dam. Each step now became a fierce struggle and, despite the yelps and cries of pain from the prisoner, the man put up an incredible fight.

  It took even more work to get him up and on the edge. By now the man was bawling. Will let go and stepped back. He seemed perfectly confident that Debra had the situation under control. And Joel agreed.

  Shifting slightly, she pushed the man back until only the toes of his boots were on the edge. His heels dangled over hundreds of feet of empty space.

  In a flash, Leanne lunged forward and shoved. Debra let go and stepped away as Shaun Simpson flew backwards into the air. In the split second that it took for gravity to take control and jerk him from view, there was a single moment when everybody close enough could see his face. For days, people would talk about the fear etched on it, and how many swore that he tried to clutch at his chest in that single moment before his body tumbled end over end, bouncing a few times off the sloped surface of the dam on its way down.

  The first time, it’d just been enough to accelerate his pinwheeling. The second time, he must have struck at an odd angle because his body bounced far away from the sloping face of the dam where it plummeted for quite a ways until it finally slammed into it again and appeared to slide the rest of the way. When it struck the water, there was a white dot that marked where his body had entered…and then nothing.

  The departure of the crowd was slow at first, but eventually everybody returned to their routine. The only people remaining were Joel, Debra, Will, and Leanne. The woman had not left the railing and continued to stare down to where Shaun Simpson had disappeared.

  Eventually, Joel returned to his quarters. As he walked, he considered the possibility that some people might decide in the heat of the moment that they no longer wanted to stay. Of course, he couldn’t have anybody leaving. While he was confident that they had few weaknesses, that did not mean he was perfect, or that the right information in the wrong hands could lead to a well-organized attack. He sent word to double up on the perimeter security. Before the night was done, three individuals were apprehended trying to leave.

  The next day, a very brief gathering was called and all three heard the judgement.

  “I sentence you to the darkness.”

  After a few days, things seemed to settle. Five days after the execution of Shaun Simpson, the power grid had been isolated and the water had been reduced to a trickle since the need for power was so greatly concentrated. Phase one was complete. The next thing they would do would be to completely sweep Boulder City. This would be the eventual home for Joel and all who would be accepted into the group.

  That meant there would be a need for more citizens. The radio operators were handed a script, and every ten minutes, the broadcast was put out on as many channels as possible.

  “Attention, if you are able, make your way to the Hoover Dam. We have electricity, food, and the ability to sustain ourselves. Come to the main gate and present yourself to the watch for processing and take a chance at not just surviving…but living.”

  8

  The First Outpost

  Joel pointed to the left and waved the five-person team ahead. The block-by-block assault on Boulder City had seemed simple on the map. The little town wasn’t some thriving metropolis. When they’d passed through on the way to Las Vegas, the zombie activity hadn’t been anything overwhelming.

  What they hadn’t counted on was how many people had gotten trapped inside their homes. And they were staying clear of the schools since it was apparent they were hives of activity. The schools had been designated rescue centers and were almost as bad as the hospitals.

  After a sweep through to get an idea on the ground of how they would assault the area, it had been Will Barnes who came up with the clever idea of parking a few fire engines at the western edge of their first neighborhood. Also, while there was some good, open land on the other side of Buchanan Boulevard, it was agreed that they would use that road as a pre-made boundary along with Highway 93 to the north. They would begin with clearing the community where they’d had that showdown with the biker gang that once laid claim to the area.

  As a fairly secluded community, it was decided that it would be the perfect place to begin. Once that neighborhood was clear, they could push outward. It was this neighborhood that Joel and his team currently worked to clear of all undead. Two days prior, the team responsible for building the barricade that circled the entire community had announced that they were finished. Now it was time for the cleaning teams to move in and do their part.

  Continuing with his belief that a true leader should be willing to do anything that he asked of others, Joel chose to be on the first team out for clean-up detail. Once he’d made a few of these excursions, he felt it would be acceptable to turn it over to others, but for now, he needed to share in the risks.

  A lone zombie stumbled out from the bushes of the house that his team were about to enter. Without a word, one of the team members walked over and dispatched it with a spike club to the side of its head. The elderly woman crumbled from the hit and the person wielding the bat jogged back to the door of the house his three-person team would clear while Joel and the other two members of the team stayed outside and kept their eyes peeled. The teams would alternate at every house.

  The job was not to gather any sort of supplies, but rather to simply ensure that the house was clear of zombies. As sections were cleared, teams would eventually be sent in to start gathering the supplies. That edict had brought questions.

  “Why would we empty out the houses that we are going to be moving in to? One of the people in the crowd had asked during the community meeting.

  “Not every house is going to have the same amount of supplies. Everybody here will be on the same footing.” Joel’s answer had been brief, but in the end, it seemed to satisfy everybody.

  Eventually, the team exited from the house Joel had been stationed in front of. They dragged two bodies out to the front yard and then painted a red circle on the front door. A truck would be coming through later to collect all the corpses and take them to a burn pile that had been built in the open field across from the target community.

  Now it was time for Joel and his two people to enter the next house. They reached the front door after a quick check of the back yard. Joel turned the knob and scowled to discover it was locked. He had the young woman step forward with the lock picking tools and open the door. The stench of the dead and the undead came rolling out on a hot breeze that had everybody in the group bringing up their bandanas that were slathered with Vick’s.

  A soft moan from the darkness of the home followed the fetid breeze and Joel stepped across the threshold with his machete in front of him, his arm cocked just enough so that he could strike without hesitation. The others followed, forming a line with a few feet between each member.

  The house had been opulent once-upon-a-time. The walls were adorned with tasteful art that broke from the normal Southwestern theme, and instead, held a nautical motif. The entry hall broke off with stairs going up, a room to the left, and a continuation into what appeared to be a dining room with a pass-through to th
e kitchen with wooden shutters that had been splintered. There was also a door separating the kitchen, but it had been busted down as well. Long-since-dried smears of blood caked the side where the door knob would’ve been on what remained of the door. A large axe was buried in the wall right beside the doorway.

  Another moan drifted from ahead, and it was clear that it came from the kitchen. Even in the gloom, the tiled floor of the kitchen was smeared with an abundance of blood that almost gave the appearance that the floor was actually black. Joel held up a hand, signaling the other two people to stop. Once he was certain that they’d complied, he continued forward the last few steps.

  The smell of undeath was growing thicker, but then again, so was the familiar smell of old death. Peering into the shadows of the kitchen, something stirred to his left. Joel tightened his grip on the machete he held and slowly took another step into the vile smelling room. The sickly sweet stench of rotting food, decaying flesh, and feces mixed with something heavy in its ammonia-like bitterness.

  At first he wasn’t certain of what he thought he might be hearing, but then a soft rumble of a cat’s purr made itself known when a black feline sauntered into the open, pausing in a clean section of floor to lick its paws.

  “Hey, puss,” Joel whispered, suddenly missing his own beloved cat, Peanut, who was, no doubt, stretched out on the windowsill of Joel’s room, soaking in every bit of the sun possible.

  Another sound like the softest scuff of a shoe on the linoleum was instantly followed by what sounded like a baby’s cry. Joel felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He’d only heard about these particular zombies up to this point. Some of the folks on scavenging runs reported the occasional encounter with a zombie that made a sound eerily similar to the cry of an infant. That is why Joel wasn’t surprised when the young man stepped out from what looked like it had been a pantry. No older than ten, the little boy was young, but certainly not an infant. It opened its mouth again, and this time, Joel stared at the creature as it let loose with that awful sound once more.