Zombie Cash Run in Las Vegas

by WINTERS, A. R.

  The next round, as Gary explained, was about lighting fire–apparently, when the zombies attacked, there wouldn't be readymade sources of fire.

  The contestants were given two sticks each, and asked to light a fire.

  This time, it was MJ who surprised us all by rubbing the sticks together and instantly lighting a flame. He got a thumbs-up sign from Gary, snuffed out the fire, and headed over to the back. I watched as Ian tried to imitate what MJ had done, rubbing the sticks together, but nothing happened. The more he rubbed, the more nothing happened, and the more frustrated he grew. Finally, he decided to intersperse his rubbing with some waving in the air, followed by banging the sticks together.

  I could see that he wasn't going to get far in this round, so I looked to check what the others were doing. None of the rest were having much luck, but then Brenna managed to spark a light. She got the thumbs-up sign from Gary, and headed to the back–followed quickly by Taylor, who, to my surprise, had managed to light a fire.

  The audience applauded politely when the round was over, and then Gary went through his spiel of talking to the contestants and reliving what had just happened.

  Finally, Gary announced that the next round would be a zombie shootout.

  I could see the delight on Ian's face, and I grinned, happy that at least some of his preparation would have been useful.

  On stage, Gary explained to the audience that the zombies would be actors wearing large green suits–the suits would be edited during production to make them look like actual zombies. I was a bit disappointed, because I'd been hoping to see some realistic-looking zombies, but at least Ian would have a shot in this round.

  The barricades on stage were set up in such a way that the audience couldn’t see the contestants. Once the zombie shootout started, we sat through about fifteen minutes of explosion noises and sounds of crashes. I wondered what was going on, and hoped that Ian was doing okay–when finally, I heard Gary speak into his microphone and say, "And that's it! The end of our third round!"

  "Recordings off," I heard Chuck say. "Audience noises okay now."

  Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, and the stagehands dismantled the barricades. I wondered how Ian had done, but I had to wait a few more minutes, until Gary went through his rehashing routine again.

  This time, everyone was interested to hear what had happened. All the contestants talked excitedly about what happened, but it didn't make too much sense for us in the audience, since we hadn't seen anything.

  Finally, Gary announced that the winner of this round was Ian! Followed by Brenna and MJ–which meant that Ian, Brenna, and MJ would be through to the next round. In fourth place was Taylor, and poor Clayton had come last.

  There was a smattering of audience applause, and I glanced in the direction where Taylor's friends had moved to. To my annoyance, they looked smug and self-congratulatory. I wondered what Taylor had ever done to deserve such terrible friends.

  Chapter 6

  The audience hung around for about another half hour until Gary announced that we were free to go, and then everyone dispersed.

  I said goodbye to Nanna and Wes, and headed backstage to chat with Ian. After I sent him a text, he met me at the door next to the stage that led behind it, and we walked along the hallway until we got to a door that said "Meeting Room 3."

  When we entered, we saw most of the contestants and stagehands chatting with each other.

  Ian was over the moon at having gotten through to the next round, and he led me over to where Brenna and MJ were standing, discussing what had just happened.

  "How did you like it?" Brenna asked, smiling at me with her dark eyes.

  "I couldn't see anything of that last shootout from the audience section. What exactly happened?"

  The three of them began talking all at once, clearly excited at having gotten through.

  "There were all these barricades, and the zombies hid behind them," Ian said.

  "We had to shoot the zombies without hitting all these other people dressed as civilians," said Brenna. "Although you wouldn't think there’d be civilians wandering around during a zombie apocalypse."

  "I guess not,” I said, “But they need to make reality shows exciting. Did you guys always want to take part in a reality TV show?"

  "I've already told them how I've decided to try to win some kind of reality show," Ian said. "I've been on two different shows already."

  "This is my first show," MJ said. "I've been watching a couple of things recently, and I thought it might be fun."

  "What about you?" I turned to Brenna. "Has it all ways been your dream to be a reality TV star?"

  Brenna glanced off to the side and shifted her feet. "Not really," she admitted. "I just–I don't know, I thought I'd enter and see how it went."

  For some reason, I didn't quite believe her, but perhaps she didn't want to admit that she was obsessed with reality shows and that she'd been prepping for hours and hours just like Ian.

  "Have you done much research on zombies?"

  Brenna shrugged. “Just a little."

  "You mean, you haven't been watching hours of reality TV show footage like me and Ian?" said MJ.

  Brenna smiled. "Yeah, I’ve watched lots of reality TV. But I didn't research zombies in particular. I figured, all these contests are kind of the same–you've got people trying to do better than each other, and that's about it. Zombies aren't that big a deal."

  MJ and Ian looked mortified.

  "Zombies are a huge deal!" said MJ. "You can't just say that zombies mean nothing!"

  Ian said earnestly, "The zombie apocalypse will happen at some point or the other. We might not call them zombies, but they won't be human, the way we know it. They'll be ill and mentally deranged–and we’ll all be scared of them."

  MJ said, "Zombies are–"

  Brenna held up her hands to placate them both. "Relax. I'm sure zombies are important, all I meant was, they're not that important to doing well on the show."

  "So, what is the secret?" I said. "Are you three going to collude with each other now?"

  They all exchanged glances. Ian shrugged. "Why not? We don't know what the next couple of rounds are going to be like, and they clearly don't care about us talking to each other. We can exchange tips and strategies."

  MJ said, "We could even band together to try to overpower any other teams–if it's a team-based thing."

  Ian and Brenna nodded, and I quickly realized why Ian hadn't wanted me to join the show.

  If there were going to be people teaming together and exchanging tips and strategies, while simultaneously trying to do better than everyone else, it was going to be a fragile situation politically.

  Brenna's eyes suddenly flew open as though she'd just remembered something. "I promised my best friend I'd call her and let her know how it went. I should get going."

  We said goodbye to Brenna, and when she left, Ian said, "It's kind of cool how they've given us all our own rooms. I didn't expect that."

  At some point while the four of us had been talking, most of the crew had left, and it was now just me, Ian, and MJ chatting with each other.

  "It's because of the conference center," MJ said, "They’ve got these rooms that they normally use for smaller meetings and for the performers’ rehearsals. Either way, it's cool."

  "You know what else is cool?" Ian said. "When I was walking past the cafeteria—it’s this huge room with a stove, and kitchen stuff, and places to sit and eat—" he explained to me "—I saw them setting up a table with buffet-style food! That means we can eat whatever we want."

  "How long do we have to be here?" MJ said. "I don't mind free food, but I wonder if this’ll take all day."

  "It probably will," Ian said, sounding as though he was the world's foremost authority on reality shows. "They probably want us to stick around and do extra takes or voiceovers in case some of the shots aren't perfect."

  MJ nodded. "We should go try to get some food then."

 
"Free food is always fun," I agreed. "Let's see what kind of spread they put out."

  We headed out and down the hallway.

  Suddenly, from the other end of the hallway, there was a loud, piercing shriek.

  "Help!" I heard Taylor's voice screaming. "We need an ambulance! Brenna's been stabbed!"

  Chapter 7

  Ian, MJ, and I rushed over to where Taylor was standing.

  When we got there, her face was pale, and she pointed through the open door of Brenna's room. "Look!"

  She burst into loud sobs, and her legs started to give way. Ian was closest to her, and he grabbed her quickly. Instead of collapsing on the floor, Taylor sobbed into Ian's chest.

  Our attention was diverted by Taylor's crying for a few seconds, but then I looked through the door, and saw what Taylor had been pointing at.

  Brenna's body lay on the floor.

  She lay in the corner of her room, next to a desk. Her body was twisted into a position I couldn't imagine anyone getting into if they were alive. There was blood everywhere–so much blood. I quickly closed the door, wanting to block the image out.

  Ian had been focused on trying to calm Taylor down and hadn't looked through the door, but MJ made a noise like he was about to be sick.

  There was the loud noise of feet stamping toward us from all directions, and soon, we were joined by everyone I'd met backstage.

  I felt weak–I'd ever seen so much blood in my entire life.

  "We need to call the police," I said faintly. "Brenna's dead."

  The cops arrived within a few minutes–and to my surprise, I saw Ryan and two officers I hadn't met before.

  My gaze locked with Ryan's, and then his attention was diverted by Dave.

  "I can't believe this is happening," Dave said. For once, the fake persona seemed to have left him, and he looked genuinely shocked and bewildered. "Tiffany shut the door before we all got here, but she says Brenna's dead. How could that be?"

  Ryan glanced at me, just as a couple of paramedics rushed up behind him.

  I pointed at the door. "She's in there, but you can't do anything for her now."

  They nodded at me, and then they opened the door a crack, just enough for them to get inside, before they closed it shut again so that no one could stare in.

  "You closed the door?" Ryan was saying to me.

  I nodded. "I didn't think. I just wanted to–I wanted to not see what I was seeing."

  "That’s tampering with a crime scene."

  "I know that now!" I snapped at him. My nerves were on edge. "It's hard to think straight when you're facing a dead body."

  Ryan had his cop face on, his eyes serious and unflinching, but for a split second, his gaze softened. "That's true," he said in a serious voice. "If you hadn't shut the door, maybe someone else would have walked in and contaminated the scene even more."

  I felt weak, as though I'd like to sit down on the floor, or break into loud hysterical crying, like Taylor was now doing. I would’ve liked to be able to give Ryan a hug, but he was clearly here in an official capacity, and he wasn't about to do anything to jeopardize his case.

  The paramedics exited the room, nodding silently to Ryan, and then they left the building.

  "We'll have crime scene people in soon," Ryan announced to everyone standing around. "In the meantime, Officer Doyle here is going to stand guard at the door–nobody is to go inside. And none of you are to leave, we'll have to talk to you all. We'd also like you to keep everything the way it is, so that my men can look through it."

  "We can't leave everything the way it is," Dave said. "We've got a show to run."

  Ryan fixed him with a steely gaze. "This is a murder investigation. I can't let anything jeopardize that."

  "And the show must go on." Dave looked angry for the first time since I’d met him. "Do you know how much it costs to keep something like this going? I have deadlines to meet."

  "And I've got a murderer to catch."

  "Can I talk to you privately?" Dave smiled at Ryan, his face a mask once again.

  Ryan nodded, and the two men stepped off away from the rest of us, out of earshot but still within viewing distance.

  Dave was talking to Ryan calmly, a fixed smile pasted on his face. As I watched, Ryan's eyes seemed to grow narrower by the second; he clearly wasn't pleased with the direction the conversation was going.

  When the two men headed back to us, Ryan looked thoroughly annoyed, and Dave had a fake, confident and friendly look about himself.

  "This is how it’ll go," Ryan said to everyone. "Nobody is to enter Brenna's room. Nobody is to move anything, or change anything, including on stage. My men will talk to each of you individually, and then we will proceed with the investigation. None of you are to leave Vegas. If anything changes, we'll let you know."

  The CSI team showed up pretty soon after that, and almost everyone from the show decided to congregate in the cafeteria.

  The cafeteria was a fairly large, stark white space with bright, overhead fluorescent lights. A long counter ran along one wall, displaying an array of dishes, a microwave, and a kettle. Cabinets were fitted in underneath the countertop, and I assumed they stored cutlery and crockery. Five round tables were scattered around the room, each with a couple of hard-looking plastic chairs around it. None of us had eaten yet, but I’d lost my appetite and didn’t even want to glance at the buffet; no-one else seemed to have an appetite either.

  Taylor had calmed down somewhat, but she still clung to Ian as though for dear life.

  I grabbed myself a drink of water, and stood around with the rest of the crew.

  “This is a snag,” Dave was saying to everyone, “but I’m sure it’ll be sorted out soon, and then we can get on with the show.”

  “It’s annoying,” Clayton said. “Since I didn’t get through to the next round, I don’t see why I need to stick around.”

  “We don’t need to hang out here all day, every day,” one of the stagehands said. I remembered vaguely that his name was Marcos. “They’ll probably get our details today, and then let us go home, and then they’ll come by when they need to talk to us.”

  “Except me,” said Kyle. “I was supposed to fly out to LA tonight. I’ve got a bunch of meetings scheduled–this is not going to be good for my work.”

  “I’m sure they’ll reschedule for you,” Bruce said, obviously trying to sound encouraging. “Nobody wants to proceed without their consultant.”

  Kyle shook his head sadly. “No, I’m just a pawn in the game. I don't think any of the shows will wait for me. I really wish I could get back to LA."

  "We'll probably be here late today," I mused out loud. "I think I should cancel my shift at the casino."

  Kyle looked at me in surprise. "You work at a casino?"

  I nodded. "The Treasury. I'm a dealer there."

  "But Dave told us you're a private investigator."

  I nodded. "I'm a private investigator between shifts. Being a PI doesn't quite pay the bills–yet."

  Kyle looked at me seriously and nodded. And then his eyes widened, and he grinned and snapped his fingers. "You're a PI! You should investigate this–that way, the whole thing will be sorted out much quicker."

  Everyone was staring at Kyle now, and they looked from Kyle to me and then at each other. I shifted awkwardly, unable to read the general feeling of the group. A couple of people looked as though they thought that was a great idea, but a few of them were clearly thinking that I might actually impede the police investigations instead of helping it.

  "Are you allowed to investigate an open case?" said Cameron, one of the stagehands.

  I shrugged. "They usually don't like it, but as long as I'm not obstructing justice, there's nothing keeping me from doing it."

  "I think it's a great idea," MJ said. "None of us want to sit around all day doing nothing."

  Dave and Chuck both looked a bit doubtful, and then Dave glanced at Taylor who was still sniffling.

  "Maybe the police are
more professional," he said. "I don't want people getting upset all over again."

  "Tiffany's plenty professional!" Ian said indignantly. "We've dealt with a ton of difficult situations, and nobody could ever call Tiffany unprofessional."

  I smiled at Ian, silently thanking him for his support, but I wasn't sure that I really wanted to work on the case. My mother's words of warning about having a run-in with Ryan at work were still ringing in my ears. I didn't want anything to come between me and Ryan.

  "I think it's a great idea!” said Kyle. "Dave, you've just been telling us about how great a PI Tiffany is, and I'm sure she can do a good job. It certainly can't hurt–we all just want the show to get back on track."

  A friendly smile quickly grew on Dave's face, and his eyes twinkled. "We sure do," he said.

  But I couldn't tell if he really meant it or if he was just trying to keep Kyle happy. It seemed like a lifetime ago that I'd been chatting to Brenna, and now here we were, talking about her death.

  "So, you’ll hire Tiffany to look into this?" asked Marcos eagerly. "I think she could really help."

  Dave nodded. "I think you guys are right. Hiring a PI could only make things better."

  I glanced around nervously. I couldn't tell if he wanted to hire me because he thought I could help out, or if he wanted to hire me just so his crew would think he was trying to help things along. "If you don't want to hire me, I can recommend some other PIs that I know. They're all very good."

  "No," said Dave. "I want to hire you. You were here, you already know all of us, and you've met Brenna. That means you can work faster than someone else who has to come in and meet everyone all over again." I started to protest, but Dave went on. "I know you're a great PI, and you'll do a great job investigating this case."

  I wasn't so certain. I glanced around nervously, and Ian gave me an encouraging grin.

  "Okay," I said. "I suppose I'm investigating this case now."