by Urban, Tony
Alexander smiled as he hugged his rifle to his chest. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, nodding his head. “It’s not much, but we call it home.”
Wyatt realized many of the people behind the fence were armed and appeared to be on patrol. That sight gave him mixed feelings. Staying safe was one thing, but what if this group operated more like a prison than a shelter? What if it was more compound than community?
Before his doubts could take hold, Allie broke his concentration. “I didn’t think you could gamble in Texas. Or really, anywhere other than Atlantic City and Las Vegas.”
Alexander let out a little laugh. “Once upon a time maybe. But after other states saw the pile of gold they jumped on board. And this place was actually on the Res.”
“Res?” Wyatt asked.
“Reservation.”
“So, all of you live there? In the casino?” Seth asked.
Alexander nodded. “It wasn’t just a casino. It was one of the finest resorts in South Texas. There’s plenty of space, lots of suites. And the buffet is amazing.”
Seth opened his mouth but stopped when he saw Alexander smile.
“You’ll see,” Alexander said. “Come on now, enough talking about it. Time to show you our set up.” He continued on, scrambling down the hill while the other soldiers followed.
Wyatt stared at the grade. It was uneven and the ground was more chunks of rock and hard caliche than an actual path he could traverse. Sweat slicked his palms as he gripped the shopping cart, knowing it would never make it to the bottom without toppling over.
As if reading his mind, Seth spoke up. “Doesn’t look handicapped friendly. Time to leave me behind and go play with your new friends. I’ll just wither away while you guys take some craps.”
Wyatt rolled his eyes. “Shut up, dick. And climb on.”
Seth wrapped his arms around Wyatt’s chest and pulled himself out of the cart and into the piggyback position.
“It’s actually shoot some craps, not take some craps.” Allie said from their side.
Wyatt looked at her, quizzical.
“What? I grew up less than an hour from A.C.”
“I like my version better,” Seth said.
Allie nodded toward the shopping cart. “Think we should bring this?”
“Leave it,” Seth said. “It can sit up here like a monument to my missing leg.”
Wyatt planted his feet in the loose gravel, each step slow and deliberate. The last thing they needed was for him to fall, drop his brother, and have the both of them soar downhill ass over head.
They were a third of their way into the descent when Barbara appeared at his side. “So, what do you think of them?”
“Don’t know yet. They’re well-guarded and the casino looks secure. And Alexander seems like a solid leader. No bullshit, you know?”
Barb nodded. “I was chatting with some of the women. They seem friendly. Welcoming.” She pointed ahead to a tall woman who wore her chestnut hair in double French braids. “That one was a cocktail waitress here. Before.”
That surprised Wyatt. He’s assumed the lot of them were Army or Marines or maybe some covert special forces. He wasn’t expecting… normal.
Barbara began to say something else but was interrupted by Alexander. “I actually used to deal. Most of us knew each other from the casino.”
Wyatt was surprised that they’d been overheard, and surprised that their Captain America turned out to be a run of the mill card dealer. Somehow though, knowing these people were just people, calmed his unease.
“I would have pegged you for career military,” Wyatt said.
“Oh yeah?” Alexander grinned. “What branch?”
Wyatt considered it. “Navy SEAL.”
The man coughed out a surprised laugh. “Damn, I’m gonna have to keep you around. You’re good for my ego.”
Ahead, Alexander’s group was almost at the security fence. A middle-aged woman with a ponytail approached from the inside and granted them access.
“And everyone else?” Wyatt asked.
“We’ve got a few ex-military folks but don’t get the wrong idea. We’re not survivalists or anything close to that. We just stuck together and gritted it out.”
Wyatt watched the man about whom he’d had such a wrong first impression. Knowing that Alexander wasn’t all that different from himself, yet seemed to be thriving in this crumbling world, made him feel more comfortable with his own lot in life.
Alexander stopped at the open gate, motioning to the guard. “Friends, this is Fiona. Fiona this is Wyatt, Barbara, Allie, Seth, and…” He flashed another perfect smile. “You promise you’re not pranking me? The dog’s name is really Supper?”
As he recalled Trooper naming the dog, Wyatt tried not to allow the memory to overwhelm his newfound good cheer. “No lie. That’s his name.”
“If you say so.”
“Welcome.” Fiona crouched down and patted her thighs. Supper plodded to her, tail whipping side to side, and licked her face like it was coated in sugar.
Wyatt supposed, if this place was good enough for the dog, it was good enough for him
Chapter Four
They were halfway to the main entrance when the doors burst open and twenty or more people rushed outside. They hurried toward Wyatt and the others, moving in a pack. Aside from the cannibals, he hadn’t seen this many people grouped together in years and his hand dropped instinctively to the pistol holstered on his waist.
Before he could do anything stupid Allie slipped tight against him, her body covering his hand, his gun. Hiding his aggressive gesture. “It’s okay,” she said.
As he looked at the group, he realized she was right. These people weren’t a threat. They weren’t filthy and unkempt and starving. All appeared well-fed and some even carried a few extra pounds. They wore normal clothes, the kind you’d wear to the mall on a Saturday afternoon.
And they all sported smiling, welcoming faces.
“Sorry for the hullabaloo,” Alexander said. “We radioed ahead to let everyone know about you. Like I said, it’s been a while since we had new faces. They’re an excitable bunch.”
As these men and women came to them, Wyatt saw how right he was. Even though his group hadn’t so much as taken a spit shower in weeks, they were greeted with handshakes and hugs. Wyatt imagined this was a small-scale version of how victorious WWII soldiers felt upon their return to the States.
A woman with a constellation of freckles and carrot orange hair emerged from the pack pushing a vacant wheelchair. That was a relief and Wyatt eased Seth into it.
“Shit you people are prepared,” Seth said.
Alexander beamed. “We try.”
What followed was an almost nonstop festival of welcomes and questions and reassurance that it was safe here. Wyatt had never felt so much raw love all at once, and definitely never from strangers.
“It’s like getting off the plane in Hawaii,” Barbara said, unable to wipe the smile from her face.
“Except there’s no leis,” Seth said. Just after he said that, a necklace made from various colors of poker chips was placed around his neck. “Close enough.” A smile crept onto his face.
“I didn’t realize how much we stank until I was around people who smell good,” Allie said as she broke free from a stranger’s hug.
“We’ll take care of that too,” Alexander said. “I can’t promise steaming hot water but it’s lukewarm and clean.” He pointed in the general direction of the gaggle of women. “Ladies, why don’t you take Allie and Barbara to get cleaned up?”
The women grabbed onto Barb and Allie’s hands and led them away before anyone could protest. Wyatt watched them disappear into the casino. Then he felt Alexander’s hand on his shoulder.
“Wyatt, come with me,” he said.
He turned to where Seth and Supper had been a moment earlier and saw a few men leading them away.
“Where are they going?” Wyatt asked. He wasn’t scared but didn’
t see the reason for being split up. Some of his initial relaxation faded, replaced with unease.
“Probably to the men’s showers,” Alexander said. “No offense, but you guys are pretty rank.”
Wyatt couldn’t see a lie on the man’s face, but his body was tense. “Then I should go with them.”
Alexander’s face showed that he knew what was up. That Wyatt didn’t fully trust him. “You can if you want. Everyone here’s free to do whatever they choose. But I hoped you’d let me show you around.”
Wyatt considered the situation. If Alexander and his people had ulterior motives, they could have killed them at the border, or anywhere and anytime between there and here. He was being overly cautious, maybe even rude, and forced a smile. “Alright.”
He followed the man into the casino.
Wyatt stood halfway between the lobby and game room, staring at the garishly colored walls, the patterned carpet that made him almost dizzy. Everything from the handrails to the check-in desk seemed to be coated in faux gold. It was the epitome of 80s kitsch.
A neon sign reading Lucky Eagle hung above the passthrough to the game room. It was at least three feet high and ten feet wide.
“It still lights up if we turn it on,” Alexander said, as if reading his mind. “The k burned out a while back, but the rest works.”
“You have electricity?” Wyatt asked.
Alexander flashed a grin. “For five hours a day. And we ask everyone to be responsible.” He dragged his fingers across the back of a fake-suede couch. “I don’t want to get your hopes up too high. We don’t have all the comforts of home but we’re better off than most. Running water, decent food selection, you name it, we’ve got your basic needs covered.”
Wyatt could hardly believe how fast their fortunes had changed. Less than twelve hours earlier they were struggling through the never-ending abyss of the desert, eating long expired food from cans, boiling water to make it safe to drink, all the while being chased by cannibals. And now… this.
“I don’t get it,” Wyatt said out loud. “How is everything still so… good, here?”
Alexander opened a door to a side room which led to a long corridor. Fluorescent lights illuminated the passage.
“It’s because everyone pitches in. It’s not perfect, but it’s home.”
“Like some hippy commune?” As fast as the words escaped his mouth, Wyatt realized how insulting it must have sounded. “I’m sorry.”
Alexander shook his head. “You’re not wholly wrong. We work together. We live in relative harmony.”
The corridor ended at another door which Alexander opened and stepped through. Wyatt followed and they emerged into a weapons room almost bursting with stock. Some of the other men and women that Wyatt still thought of as soldiers were also inside, returning their AKs to shelves, reloading ammunition belts, changing out of their fatigues and into more traditional clothing.
Alexander pulled the magazine from his rifle and handed it to a man with a bushy, red beard and who reminded Wyatt of a lumberjack. “Want to top that off for me, Ace?”
The man accepted it with a nod and then Alexander began undressing.
“We just take it a day at a time, man.” Alexander didn’t just have the handsome face of an action hero, but the physique to match. But his muscles weren’t the outrageous, trying too hard kind that were earned in a gym. His build was lean and cut. The body of someone who used it, not built it for show. “And most of all, we appreciate all the gifts God has given us and which he continues to send our way. Like you good people.”
He stripped down to his boxer briefs then grabbed a pair of jeans and redressed. “So, does that make us hippies?”
Wyatt couldn’t hold back a smirk. “Maybe. Well-armed ones, anyway.”
Alexander laughed and threw a fake punch his way. Wyatt fake dodged it.
“Don’t worry. We won’t make you sit around the pool and sing Kumbaya every Sunday.”
It was Wyatt’s turn to laugh. “Thank God.”
“Yeah. That’s actually on Thursdays, under the portico,” Alexander said.
“Oh, I--”
Alexander ruffled his hair. “I’m just messing with you.”
Wyatt was relieved that he hadn’t just put his foot in his mouth. And even more relieved that he’d been brought to this place. After everything they’d been through, they deserved some good times.
Chapter 5
The lukewarm shower was better than a day at a three-hundred-dollar spa, but that was over now and so was Allie’s brief period of relaxation. As soon as she’d toweled off and slipped on a plush, white robe, the mob of women who’d escorted her to the baths were back.
Their kindness was never-ending, from helping her pick out new clothes, to offering her something to eat and drink, to asking her about her past and her time on the road. They were friendly to a fault but having a dozen or more of them surrounding her like a clan of hyenas around a lost gazelle had frayed her nerves almost to the point of snapping.
She felt closed in. Trapped. Her breaths became shallow and quickfire. The women, their friendly faces, blurred into walls of flesh and teeth and clothing that drifted her way and threatened to wash over her like the evening tide. Allie’s heart thudded in her chest and her throat tightened. She couldn’t even scream. Sweat broke out on her forehead and her vision spun as the world faded away.
Just before she succumbed to the panic attack and passed out, a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the others. There was a voice, firm and masculine, but she couldn’t decipher the words. Nonetheless she went with it, brushing against the women in the crowd as the stranger's hand guided her through them.
Whoever had come to her rescue took her away and into a conference room that was wide open and uncluttered. There weren’t even any empty folding chairs to take up space. The grip, which had been strong yet caring, released her. She missed the safe, secure feel of that warm hand.
Allie sucked in gaping mouthfuls of air, finally able to breathe again. She’d had panic attacks in the past and she knew the drill. Breathe in and out. In and out. Steady and slow. In and out.
The hand fell onto her shoulder, reassuring, comforting. “Take your time. They mean well, but it can be overwhelming at first.”
She was so relieved to be free that she hadn’t even thought about who’d rescued her from the crowd. “Thank you. I haven’t had a panic attack in years and forgot how--”
“It’s okay. You don’t need to explain it,” the man’s voice said.
Even though she was terrified, that floating, drowning feeling would return, she opened her eyes. And the man who stood before her almost took her breath away all over again. He reminded her of a ruggedly handsome actor with his chiseled jaw and intense, sapphire eyes. His salt and pepper hair was a tad on the long side and hung in lazy, unkempt curls across his forehead.
She smiled at him and wondered how the hell someone could make it this far into the apocalypse and still look so damned good. “Well, thank you. For saving me and for understanding my predicament.” She gave a light, embarrassed laugh and patted his upper arm, feeling his muscles through his blue chambray shirt.
Oh God, am I really flirting like a schoolgirl right now, she thought and retracted her hand.
He smiled at her, revealing a small gap in his front teeth. It was the sort of flaw that would make an ordinary man look foolish or uneducated, but on him it only added to the charm. “You’re welcome. For both. I’m Franklin.” He extended his hand to her.
She grabbed it and returned his firm handshake. “Allie.”
“Alright Allie, if you’re recuperated, would you like me to point you in the direction of some other people your age? They--”
“My age?” She looked him up and down, observing the small wrinkles around his eyes and mouth and tried to judge his. She didn’t see how he could be that much older. Five years. Ten tops. “How old do you think I am?”
“No offense intended. I just
thought I could introduce you to people with whom you might have more in common.”
“So that’s that? You storm in there and drag me off without so much as a howdy do and then you try to dump the poor, scaredy cat girl off on other people?” She crossed her arms in front of her. At first, she meant it as a bit of a joke, but the more she considered the way she was being tossed aside, genuine annoyance crept inside.
“If you’re insulted then it's my turn to apologize. Maybe I need to start over.”
He pushed his hand her way again. She accepted, with less enthusiasm.
“I’m Franklin. And I’m in charge here.”
Then it clicked. He was the leader. No wonder he thought he could do whatever he wanted. And there she was on the verge of a toddler’s tantrum with the man who ran the place in which they’d decided to seek refuge. Hell of a way to make an impression.
“You’re that guy Alexander called Papa?”
Franklin flashed a demure smile and shook his head. “No, I’m not Papa. He’s our leader. I just make sure everything stays organized. That everyone’s taken care of.”
“So, you’re like middle management?”
His good cheer wavered, but he recovered fast. “More of the CEO if we’re using corporate lingo.”
“Second in command then?”
“We’re not really structured that way. We don’t have commands, or bosses. We’re a community and we all have our assignments. Mine is more of a supervisory role, but Papa leads us all. He is our star in the dark sky, if you will.”
Allie nodded. She knew exactly what Franklin was saying, but thought his analogies needed a little work. “Alright, I think I get it. Then you’re the Little Dipper.”
Franklin shook his head at the jab. “Maybe I didn’t come off as eloquent as I intended.”
“I’ll let you off the hook this one time.”
“I appreciate that.”
She glanced around the empty room, then toward the hall which was equally bereft of people. And with the panic attack fading, the isolation suddenly felt less desirable. “Can you tell me where my friends went? The ones I came in with?”