There was a pop and glass sprayed in her face. She looked over and saw Noel holding the gun. She had shot out the driver’s side window. Kyle reached in, unlocked the door, and pulled the girl out. Noel, having been trained to fire several types of weapons by her late father while still in Utah, fired again, hitting Brian in the head, shoulder, and twice in the lower back, which finally stopped his rampage.
Unfortunately, his victim was already deceased. With Chris and the three other Skells pinned beneath the vehicle, it was not necessary to waste any more ammo. The four took the remaining sophomore girl to their car and sped off into the darkness.
CHAPTER 50
PJ looked down at the cards on his Las Vegas blackjack table, and then looked up at the desperate faces that surrounded him. As a dealer, he made and broke people on an hourly basis. He took no pleasure in it. A job is a job. It was his calling
Every face wanted to hit 21. Every pair of eyes. Every set of lips. Every furrowed brow. They wanted 21.
A 21 ensured that their time had not been wasted. The number 21 made them feel better. Made them able to pay for the house or the car or their kid’s schooling. At least that was what he wanted to believe their winnings were spent on. Not on drugs, booze, bookies, and hookers. Blood money. No. His faith and belief were still strong. The coin they acquired would be put to good use.
Black Jack. 21. A number. A simple number was the salvation they sought.
And Pope Judas was in charge of those numbers.
“House wins,” he said. Showing his cards against the green felt of the table.
The other schmucks groaned. One shrieked, “Bullshit,” throwing his cards down hard on the table, which resulted in the non-believer being approached by security and quickly escorted out. Apostate.
Most of those who left of their own volition—still desperate, but broken. Defeated creatures. Wilted human beings. Others stayed at the felt altar, continuing the casting of lots. Perhaps fate would smile upon them next time.
Pope Judas shrugged as though there was nothing he could do for the dopes who lost. Lost their paychecks. Their girlfriends. Their wives. Their kids. Maybe their cars or their jobs or their houses. But the ones he pitied most of all were the ones that left and never came back. For they had lost something greater than money. They lost their faith. How can a couple lost hands of cards break them so easily? Fate had put men through unspeakable horrors and yet they did not give up. These pussies fold on a 16. They will never survive the trials and tribulations that will be shambling their way. Hungry, without soul or reason. Preying on the weak like a buffet.
Pope Judas wondered: Do these poor souls understand that there are very real nightmares running rampant? The Devil is real. He is not a liar. He promised Hell and Hell has come to Earth. To America. His minions walk the streets.
The demon’s name is Marcello and his kingdom is New Jersey.
PJ thought about the wretched state. The state of the state. As he did, the televisions that plastered the walls of the casino shuddered and changed from happy displays of advertisements and near-naked showgirls to an emergency broadcast.
The emergency alert notification on TV reported that the Jersey infection suppression plans had failed.
Some sort of cyber terror attack had hacked the quarantine and infection containment systems.
The details were still coming in. Nobody was supposed to panic, but things may have gone all kinds of wrong.
Pope Judas furrowed his brow.
More individuals desperate for salvation sat down at his table, but he ignored them and their lamentations. With a gentle clap of his hand, he stepped down from his vaulted dealer position, giving a nod to the pit boss that he needed to take off. He walked to the casino exit. Got in line for a taxi. Waited. Pondered.
Pondered more as the yellow cab carried him home.
His black loafers caressed the red-gold carpet of his living room floor.
Thirteen disciples greeted him, but he had no words in return. Not yet.
He undid his outfit. Stripped off his tie. His vest. His shirt. Until he stood shirtless in front of the apartment bay window. He looked out into the distance, where he could still see the lights of the Las Vegas strip.
He took a deep breath and turned to his followers. “The flock cries out for us. It is time I returned to New Jersey.”
Table of Contents
Praise for Nuke Jersey
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Exit Zero (Book 2): Nuke Jersey Page 18