Fighting Chance - A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Thriller (Lights Out in Vegas Book 3)

by Sean Patten

  “Wait a minute,” said one. “I recognize this asshole.”

  “What?” asked another. “From where?”

  “He met with the boss a little while ago.”

  “The big boss?”

  “The big boss.”

  “And now here he is getting into all sorts of trouble.”

  “Yep. Bet Oleg might want to meet with him again.”

  “Good call. Tell him who we found and I’ll get him ready.”

  My vision was blurry, my lungs still struggling to take in air.

  “What’s with the backpack?” said another.

  “I dunno. Check it out.”

  “No…” I groaned, barely able to form the single word. “Don’t…”

  “Hmm,” said one of the guards as he squatted down behind me. With a quick yank, he opened the zipper. “Damn!” he said.

  “What’s in there?” asked other.

  “This guy’s got a stash. Oxys, percs—enough to have a damn good night.”

  At that moment the pain of them taking my first aid kit was more intense than that from the punches.

  “What else is in there?”

  “Medical shit. Nothing good.”

  “Get rid of it.”

  Plastic clattered on the ground as I reached out helplessly.

  “Look at this guy,” said one of them. “Junkie’s pissed he’s not getting his fix.”

  “Sorry, guy,” said another. “Looks like it’s rehab time. It’ll be for your own good.”

  “All right, all right,” said another guard. “We can divvy this shit up later. Get this prick downstairs — the boss is gonna be expecting him.”

  “Come on, asshole.”

  With that, one of the guards grabbed me by the wrist and began dragging me down the hall, my eyes focused on the strewn-about contents of my backpack as they vanished around the corner.

  Chapter 11

  Everything next happened in a blur. The guards dragged me down into the lower levels of the casino, eventually bringing me into a small, dimly lit concrete room in the basement. Once there, I was strapped to a chair, my hands and feet bound up with cable ties.

  The two guards stepped back and admired their work.

  “Yeah, he’s not going anywhere,” said one of them.

  “At least, not until the boss decides what to do with him.”

  By this point I’d gotten my wind back, though my vision was still blurry.

  “Where is she?” I asked. “Where did you take her?”

  “The girl?” asked the guard on the left. “Don’t you worry about that. The boss wants you to see her again, then you’ll see her again.”

  “But until he gets here you’re gonna sit nice and tight. Got it?”

  “Fuck you,” I spat.

  The guard stepped towards me, reached down, and grabbed me by the front of my shirt.

  “You’d better be really, really happy that the boss doesn’t want to roughed up any more than you already are. Because if he didn’t…”

  The door opened, another guard stepping in.

  “He’s here,” he said.

  With a shove, the guard let go of me and pushed me back into the seat.

  “Asshole,” he said. “Come on.”

  With that, the three guards left. The door shut with a bang behind them and I was all alone.

  Not for long, however. The door opened again, and Oleg stepped through.

  My gut tightened. He was the last person I wanted to see.

  Slowly, as though it were made of delicate glass, Oleg shut the door behind him. Once it was closed, he wordlessly slipped out of his suit jacket, folding it neatly and placing it onto a nearby steel shelf.

  He turned to me and shook his head in a disappointed fashion, like I’d really let him down.

  “Where is she?” I growled.

  “Mr. Powell,” said Oleg. “If I were you I’d be more concerned about my own situation.”

  “Tell me where she is,” I repeated.

  Oleg said nothing, instead taking a folded chair from the wall, opening it up and setting it down before sitting onto it.

  “I offered you a hell of a deal, friend,” he said. “Right now you could be sitting pretty in one of the VIP suites, a bottle of bubbly in one hand and a gorgeous girl in the other. But you had to play it stupid.”

  He shook his head, his blue eyes locked onto me.

  “Truth be told, I’m not even sure what you were trying to do. You went into the back rooms of the casino, found yourself in one of our auctions, and then you started a small riot only to land back in my hands. Is there a method to all this, Mr. Powell? Or is it all madness?”

  “I was looking for a way out,” I said. “I need to get back to my brother.”

  He nodded, as if realizing he’d already known the answer to his question.

  “Oh, that’s right,” he said. “That brother of yours. Personally, I wouldn’t worry about him. If he’s been on his own for this long he’s either figured out a way to get out of his little jam or… Well, I’m sure you can guess.”

  I shot him a hard, cutting glare.

  “Fuck you,” I said.

  “Come on,” said Oleg, getting up from his seat. “You had to know something like that might happen. Better you acclimate yourself to reality sooner than later.”

  “It’s not too late,” I said. “You can let me go now. Me and Kelly.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Oh, is that her name?” he asked. “That’s a firecracker of a woman you’ve got there. Bit one of our guards while we were taking her upstairs.”

  “Why are you taking her upstairs?” I growled.

  “Mr. Powell,” he said. “I’m afraid that you’re not in a position to be demanding answers. Right now, I’ve got you right where I want you.”

  Oleg flashed me one more smile before beginning to stroll back and forth across the room with long, carefree strides, his dress shoes clicking on the floor.

  “I should tell you too—those men and women you saw on stage earlier for our little wheel game? A couple of them were up there for getting a little more physical with the guards than we allow. Those boys work so hard to keep the peace, and all some people want to do is make their lives harder than they need to be. Damn shame.”

  He shook his head.

  “Anyway,” he said. “In case you haven’t put two and two together, what you pulled upstairs is not an offense we take lightly here at the Troika. Even before the whole business with the lights, guests putting their hands on our staff wasn’t acceptable in the slightest.”

  He reached into his pocket and withdrew a toothpick.

  “It’s easy to teach such lessons,” he said as he removed the cellophane wrapper. “Maybe even let the unruly guest back into the casino if they learned to behave themselves. But before that, we’d have to take a pinky or a toe and just…”

  He raised his gaze to me as he snapped the toothpick in two.

  “You get the idea,” he said, flicking the broken toothpick at my chest. “But you’re too valuable for such things, Mr. Powell. A man with your skills, with your survival instinct—I could use you. Instead, however, you insist on being obstinate.”

  “It’s not going to work,” I said.

  “Excuse me?” he asked.

  “Your plan. Holding these people hostage as negotiating chips. It’s not going to work. Even if the Army or National Guard or whoever is still around, they’re not going to negotiate with you like that. They’ll move in and wipe you out like the petty tyrant you are.”

  The congenial expression on Oleg’s face faded for a brief moment, replaced by one of hard anger. He took a slow breath, as if collecting himself. Then his typical smile returned.

  “All the more reason why I need to have you working for me,” he said. “You’re smart. Able to put pieces together.”

  I shook my head.

  “Not going to happen,” I said.

  He let out a disappointed sigh.


  “I had a feeling you’d be stubborn about the whole thing. But that’s why you’re here in the time-out room—to give you some peace and quiet in order to think things over. Think about it, Mr. Powell. You’ve already lost your brother. Do you really want to add Kelly to that list?”

  He stepped over to his coat and picked it up before carefully unfolding it and slipping it back on.

  “I’m sure you’ve got all sorts of things on your mind to say to me, but save them. Not a single word out of your mouth other than ‘okay, let’s go to work’ will get you out of that chair. So, take your time and give the matter some serious thought. I’ll be back to check up on you. I really hope you make the right decision.”

  He prepared to leave, but stopped mid-stride as he exited.

  “In the meantime, I’ll be attending to some business upstairs. I’ll leave it to your imagination to guess what that ‘business’ might involve. Or who.”

  Kelly.

  Chapter 12

  Oleg opened the door and stepped out. Once it shut I was alone again, the air still aside from a drip-drip from some far-off pipe and the knowledge that he was going upstairs with his sights set on my ex-wife.

  I looked around, trying to find some way that I could get out of there.

  The first step was the cable ties on my hands and feet. Lucky for me, I’d watched more than a few videos on how to get out of restraints. Steel handcuffs were tricky, but cable ties were nothing. It was just a matter getting the nail into the little tab that held the tie in place and…

  With a little doing, I had the tie off and onto the floor. My skin seemed to cry out in relief as I slipped the tie off me. Next was the tie on my ankles, which, with my hands free, was no trouble at all.

  Panic gripped me as I realized the room might be under surveillance. But a quick scan of the corners revealed that there were no cameras. At least, none that I could see.

  Before I said or did anything else, the scent of something on the air held me still. I sniffed, trying to get a sense of what it was. Then it hit me.

  Gas. It was diesel gas.

  That meant I was near the generator. And if I was near the generator, that meant…

  I took a deep breath and calmed myself, keeping in mind that whatever I did, it had to happen fast.

  I approached the door and pressed my ear against it, hearing nothing but the low rumble of a faraway engine.

  The generator.

  There was no talking, no footsteps on the other side of the door. Slowly, quietly, I opened the door, expecting to find one guy standing watch and hoping I’d be able to catch them off guard.

  There was no one on the other side, but that didn’t mean Oleg didn’t have someone stationed down the hall. I’d have to tread carefully.

  The door opened to a dark hallway of dim halogen lights and concrete everything—floors and walls and ceilings. I took a look around, finding a flashlight and a large wrench. The flashlight Hopkins had given me was long gone, and these would have to do.

  After taking another glance down the hallway and seeing no sign of a guard, I followed the sound and smell of gas until I reached a large set of red steel doors, the words “EMERGENCY GENERATOR — DO NOT ENTER” written to the right of it in big, bold letters.

  Even without the words, the scent of gas and the rumble would’ve let me know I’d come to the right place. I pressed onto the door. To my surprise, it was unlocked.

  The doors opened to a massive room, the enormous diesel generator—the thing about the size of a semi-truck—filling the space. It was bright yellow, rumbling and growling as it did its work.

  I felt powerful at that moment, knowing I was standing in front of the beating heart of this entire place. And I knew just how to stop it.

  I searched the room until I found exactly what I was looking for: a long length of tubing. Once what was in hand, I went to the fuel intake area, opened it up, and slipped the tube inside.

  It wasn’t going to be the prettiest way to shut this place down, but it’d do the job. And most importantly, it’d do it slowly. I’d have enough time to get out of there without Oleg and his men running to the basement. I could only hope that I’d get to Kelly before the lights went out.

  Once the tube was in place, I opened the maintenance panel up and looked for the switch to reverse the fuel line. With a twist it shifted, the engine stopping for a moment before it began pumping the fuel out.

  The stench of gas filled the air, and I ran from the room, fleeing the scene before anyone realized what I’d done.

  Before too long I reached the service stairs. After checking to make sure the coast was clear, I headed up them, ready to find Kelly.

  I didn’t have a firm plan in mind, but whatever I did next, it needed to happen fast. I’d signed the death warrant of the Troika, and chaos was on the horizon.

  Chapter 13

  A door opened on the floor above me, and I froze in place.

  “You heard the lungs on that girl they brought to the boss?” asked one of them.

  “You kidding?” the other asked. “How could I not? She was screaming about every swear word in the book when they brought her up.”

  I scanned the area around me, trying to figure out my next step. I couldn’t see all the way up the stairs, but judging from the lack of footsteps, I could hear that the men weren’t going up or down.

  Then I heard the flick of a lighter, followed by the “ahhs” of men satisfying their nicotine addictions.

  Smoke break.

  “What’s he want with her?”

  “What do you think he wants?”

  “I mean, I know. But I don’t get why he bothers.”

  “What’re you talking about? You saw her, right? She’s hot as hell.”

  “Well yeah, but this place is full of babes. Don’t get why the boss always goes for the girls who want nothing to do with him.”

  “Think you just answered your own question right there, bud.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Think about it. You’re the boss, you’ve been able to have a constant stream of pussy since you were able to get hard-ons.”

  “Right.”

  “Bet it gets old after a while, being able to snap your fingers and have any girl you want naked and waiting in bed for you.”

  “Hell, I don’t know if I’d ever get tired of that.”

  “That’s because the only pussy you can get is what you pay for. And I know how much you can afford.”

  “Fuck you.”

  It made me sick to hear them talking about Kelly like that. Part of me wanted to rush up the stairs with the wrench and beat their mouths shut. But I held back.

  “Still. Seems like a pain in the ass to me.”

  “Again, spoken like a man who doesn’t get laid more than once a year.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “Such a colorful vocabulary. Anyway, sooner or later she’ll—”

  The lights dimmed for a moment before coming back to full strength.

  “What the fuck?” asked one of the men.

  “Fucking brownout. Are you serious?”

  “Think there’s something wrong with the generator?”

  “Maybe. Better go check. Boss is gonna make us anyway.”

  “Okay. I’ll stay here and you see what’s up downstairs.”

  Shit. Not only was one of them going to come down the stairs, it was only a matter of time before they found out what happened. And if there was already a brownout, that meant there was less gas in the tank than I’d anticipated.

  And it meant that instead of the power going out in an hour or so, it could be as soon as—

  Another dimming.

  I had to move—no time to wait for the guards to clear the stairs.

  After tucking my wrench into my waistband and hiding it under my suit jacket, I rushed through the stairs that led to the main casino floor.

  The place was as chaotic as ever, but I could sense by the looks on people’s faces tha
t they were as worried about the brownouts as the guards had been.

  And they had every right to be. Once the power went off, the same chaos that had taken hold of the world outside the Troika would find them. Part of me regretted putting an end to their little earthly paradise, but another part of me would never forget the crowd cheering as Carlos was executed for their entertainment.

  I stepped onto the main casino floor just in time for another brownout. That confirmed that the power was on its last legs. I must’ve drained the tank right before it was due for a refill.

  Worried chatter broke out among the guests. But one of the guards was quick to step in.

  “Go back to your games and drinks,” he said. “Nothing to worry about. Just a little hiccup with the generator.”

  “Is the power going off?” a woman asked. “What was that—”

  “I said go back to your games, got it?”

  The guest shut right up and turned her attention back to her slot machine. Judging by the tense expression on her face I could sense that she wasn’t thinking about whether or not she’d get three cherries in a row.

  The guests had every reason to worry. But I had other things on my mind. I needed to get to Kelly, and fast.

  I cut through the main casino floor, remembering that there was a set of stairs through the events room. After stepping through the double doors I was greeted with a hell of a sight on stage.

  It was a circus act, with fire-jugglers and trapeze swingers and all the rest. Frantic big-top music played, and despite everything, I found myself distracted for a few brief moments as I took in the spectacle.

  Then I laid eyes on the set of stairs, my stomach dropping when I saw that there were two guards posted on both sides of it.

  Shit.

  I’d have to come up with some way to get past them. Maybe tell them that I was supposed to meet with Oleg? He’d been expecting me, after all.

  Right as I began to formulate a plan, however, the lights dimmed again, this time hanging on their low level for several moments before brightening.

  Worried chatter broke out from among the spectators before the lights went back up.

  But then they dimmed again.