Double Or Nothing

by Sean Patten

  “So you came down here.”

  He shook his head.

  “Took a while before I wound up here. Sold all my shit—what little I had—and just started…wandering. I lived up in Seattle at first, and by the time the first winter hit I realized that I needed to get somewhere a little more accommodating for a vagrant such as myself. Went down to California for a few years; eventually fell in with some drifters who told me about the situation here in Vegas.”

  He looked away, as if trying to remember something.

  “God,” he said. “Had to have been fifteen years ago I came here. This is where I belong—I’ve accepted that.”

  “Hell of a story,” I said.

  “Something like that,” he said lowly.

  “But…you ever think of going back up?” I asked.

  “You kidding? With all that shit going on? Hell, the world was bad enough when everyone at least agreed to play nice. Now that the power’s off… No, not a chance.”

  “But you don’t have to stay checked out,” I said. “Yeah, things are bad, but we’re going to need good people to make things right again.”

  Hopkins scoffed.

  “Look at you,” he said. “You sound like a damn boy scout. Or like me before I went off to war. Tell me, you ever seen true evil? Looked it in the eyes?”

  I flashed back to that day at the diner in Hawaii.

  I had seen evil. But I wasn’t about to talk about it.

  “Can’t say,” I lied.

  “Well,” he said. “You will. Just give it time.”

  By this point I was feeling ready to move on. Sure, Hopkins had a nice little place carved out for himself down there, but Steve was still waiting for me, depending on me.

  “I think I need to get moving,” I said. “World’s not going to stop turning.”

  “You sure about that?” he asked. “You seem like the honest type, Justin. Hell, you pull your weight and I wouldn’t mind letting you stay here for a time. At least until the worst of it blows over.”

  I didn’t even need a moment to think about it.

  “No,” I said. “I’ve got to get back up there.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  I paused, weighing up the potential danger of being honest with him. Hopkins had told me enough about himself—it seemed only right to share.

  “Truth is I’m not alone up there,” I said. “There’s someone counting on me.”

  “That right?”

  “It’s right. It’s my brother, and he’s hurt. Bad.”

  Chapter 11

  “Shit.”

  Hopkins sat back after I finished telling him about Steve. He folded his hands behind his head, saying nothing at first.

  “That’s a bad scene,” he said.

  “No kidding,” I said. “Had to leave my brother out there alone with barely any supplies. And here I am hiding out.”

  “I get it,” said Hopkins. “You’ve got someone out there counting on you.”

  That faraway look in his eyes appeared, and for a moment I wondered if he was going to space out. But he shook his head, snapping back to the present.

  “You’re going to need some antibiotics,” he said. “Painkillers too. Probably something to bandage up the wound, maybe some crutches. And you’ll need to give the wound a closer look, make sure it doesn’t have any stray bits of dirt or glass or shit like that in it.”

  “Right,” I said. “And to do all that I need supplies that I don’t have.”

  “You know about Green Fields?”

  My first instinct was to say no, but the more I thought about it, the more it seemed oddly familiar.

  “Jog my memory,” I said.

  “It’s this fancy-ass rehab clinic,” he said. “A place celebrities go to when they have one too many drunken outbursts in public and need to make a show of cleaning up their act.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “Never really followed celebrity gossip, but I think I’ve heard about it in passing.”

  He nodded.

  “It’s more of a day spa than anything else,” he said. “But it’s a medical center, too. One of the guys down here is some actor from LA who never made it, ended up turning to the hard stuff. He went there for a time, said that it’s nice and secluded away from the city.”

  “Don’t want the common folk spying on their betters,” I said with a wry tone.

  Hopkins grinned.

  “Yeah, you got it. Point is that they’ll have what you need. And even better, the place is away from the center of the city.”

  “That could work,” I said. “But that still leaves the matter of getting there.”

  “I’ve got you covered,” he said. “You ready to move?”

  “Let me see.”

  Carefully, I stood up. My head still ached like hell, but it felt better. And the food and booze had given me new life. Even the simple act of moving around was less effortful.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I think I’m good.”

  “Then come on.”

  Hopkins heaved himself out of his seat and started off towards the arched entrance to his home. I followed, and after I turned the corner, I watched as he opened a small compartment in the wall, taking out a bottle of water and a large, heavy-duty flashlight.

  “This way.”

  I moved to his side as we approached a thick metal door. Hopkins gave the crank on the front a twist and pulled the door open, revealing a long sewer tunnel.

  We continued on, and as we moved down the tunnel, our footsteps echoing through the cool, damp space, I began to take notice of small piles of clothes and blankets here and there. At first, I thought they were just trash that had somehow ended up in the sewers. But as I took a closer glance I noticed that most of them covered people sleeping underneath the piles.

  “Holy shit,” I said. “There’s really people living down here.”

  “And why not?” he asked. “Can’t argue with the rent. And if you keep your nose out of people’s business, they’ll leave you alone.”

  “But what about, you know, crazy people?” I asked. “The people who wander down the streets talking about how they’re the Second Coming or whatever.”

  “It may not look like it,” Hopkins said. “But this is something of a community down here. And communities need rules to function. People who can’t, or won’t, play nice don’t end up sticking around for too long. In one way or another.”

  I got his meaning. Seemed like it’d be easy for someone to come down here and never be seen again.

  “And I’m kind of an old-timer around these parts,” he went on. “And when you’ve been around as long as I have, that imparts a certain level of respect among the younger pups.”

  We continued on, gradually making our way down the passage. I checked my watch, remembering that it was broken.

  “Fuck,” I said, taking the watch off and dangling it from my fingers. “Might as well toss this out.”

  I pulled my hand back to throw it aside, but Hopkins quickly grabbed my hand and stopped me.

  “Let me hang onto that if you don’t want it,” he said.

  “What’re you going to do with a broken watch?” I asked.

  “Oh, lots of things,” he said. “Maybe fix it up and get it working, maybe trade it for something I need. Believe it or not, even people down here care about things like watches and jewelry—stuff to make them look nice.”

  “Crazy,” I said.

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  We walked for what must have been an hour, traveling mostly in silence. After a time we reached a four-way junction where we took a right. At the end of that passage, Hopkins stopped in front of a ladder.

  “End of the line, buddy,” he said. “What you’re going to do is take this ladder into a small pipe. Squeeze on through there and you’ll end up at a runoff ditch. Climb up out of that and you’ll be around the place. Should be signs around—can’t miss it.”

  I glanced up at the ladder and prepared to h
ead up. But before I did, I stopped and turned to Hopkins.

  “Listen,” I said. “I just want to—”

  He held up his hand.

  “Don’t mention it,” he said. “Just…trying to do the right thing, I suppose.”

  “You sure you don’t want to come with me?” I asked. “World’s going to need all the help it can get.”

  He shook his head.

  “Thanks, but no thanks,” he said. “Been a long time since I had anyone up there to worry about; even longer since anyone was worried about me. I think this last beating I took is all the indication I need about where I ought to be.”

  The conviction in his words troubled me. He seemed firm in his decision, but after everything he’d done for me, it really didn’t seem right to leave him down here, in the dark.

  “Listen,” I said. “You get the urge to help. Or hell, if you just get bored down here, my brother Steve…”

  “What about him?”

  “He’s still at that substation. It’s near O’Donnelly-Reeder—what’s left of the place, that is. There’s a long line of electrical towers from the main parking garage, they go right out into the desert. You’d think you were walking into the middle of nowhere, but they lead to the substation. He’s there and he needs help.”

  “Understood,” he said. “But I think this is about all the help I can give. If it’s all the same, I’ll be staying down here for the foreseeable.”

  I nodded, knowing there was no sense in trying to press the issue.

  “Actually…” Hopkins said.

  He clicked off the flashlight, a low darkness returning to the sewers.

  “Take this,” he said. “You’ll need it more than I do.”

  “No,” I said. “I can’t—”

  “No discussion,” he said. “Take it. Like I said, you’re going to need it more than I do.”

  I glanced down at the flashlight. Without saying another word, I took it.

  “Besides,” Hopkins went on. “You need something to replace that sorry-ass piece of metal you were using as a weapon. This thing’s heavy-duty—you can crush some skulls with that bad boy.”

  He was right. The flashlight was solid metal, heavy and thick. It’d be a useful weapon in a pinch.

  “Now get going,” he said. “Your brother’s waiting for you.”

  Despite what he’d said before, I stuck out my hand.

  “Thanks,” I said. “For everything.”

  Hopkins regarded my hand for a moment, as if suspicious, but finally he took it and gave it a shake.

  “Stay safe up there,” he said.

  I nodded before tucking the flashlight into my back waistband and taking hold of the cool metal rungs of the ladder. With some effort, I hoisted myself onto it and started up.

  “Don’t do anything stupid out there, kid!” Hopkins shouted up to me as I ascended the ladder. “Man’s just another animal, after all!”

  His words echoed in my mind as I climbed upwards into the black, towards whatever awaited me.

  Chapter 12

  Just as Hopkins had said, the ladder led to another long pipe. I climbed into it, taking out the flashlight and flicking it on as I did. The beam of light was so beautiful that I damn near wanted to cry. The thick pillar of illumination cut through the dark of the sewer pipe, allowing me with a clear view of where I needed to go.

  As nice as the flashlight was, however, the smell of the space was so rancid that it took every bit of strength I had to keep down my stew.

  The pipe was narrow, and I was forced to crawl on my hands and knees through it. A shallow accumulation of water was on the floor of the pipe, and I made sure to keep the flashlight pointed ahead so that I didn’t accidentally see the grime and God knows what else I was putting my hands into.

  The pipe seemed to go on forever. It was cold and smelly, but I kept reminding myself that however bad it was, it sure as hell beat taking my chances with the crowds on the surface.

  Then again, I’d be back among them before too long. Wasn’t looking forward to that one bit.

  As I made the journey down the pipe, I found myself thinking about Hopkins, about how he’d come to end up living the life he did.

  In some ways he was so much like me that it was scary. Like me, he’d been subjected to the sorts of trauma that most people could only imagine. And like me, his paranoia had driven away everyone he’d cared about. And like me, he’d slowly but surely found himself separated from the rest of the world, living on his own.

  Would that have been my fate? Sure, I’d had a job before this all went down. And I’d had a home and a TV and all the normal things a man was expected to have. I couldn’t imagine living in the sewers like him, but was the life I’d been headed towards that much different?

  I’d been doing more of my work from home over the last few months, spending my free time working on my shelter, getting my supplies organized, and reading survivalist forums online. Sometimes I’d go days, weeks even, without seeing anyone else in person. And the more I thought about it, the more easily I could picture myself at his age, living alone in my solitary compound, waiting for a collapse that might never come.

  But it had come. It was happening all around me.

  Up ahead I spotted a hard right angle in the pipe. A destination in front of me, I picked up my pace and started towards it. When I arrived, a bright circle of light appeared in the distance.

  It was the exit.

  I moved as fast as I could, turning off the flashlight and tucking it into my waist before crawling with all the speed I was capable of. Before too long I reached the end, and was so excited to finally be out of the tunnel that I nearly toppled out of it and into the small pond of disgusting water that it led to.

  Sticking my feet out in front of me, I angled my body out of the pipe and dropped onto the ground. The light was harsh as hell, blinding me for a few moments before my eyes had a chance to adjust. Once they did, I saw to my relief that I was alone and in the middle of a small stretch of green.

  I continued ahead, spotting a road cutting through the desert beyond the grass. Sure enough, a large road sign was there, announcing that “Green Fields Recovery Center” was only a half mile off. Using my newfound energy, I took off down alongside the road.

  My stomach sank at what I saw ahead. A small trickle of people was on the road, walking in the same direction I was headed. As I drew closer I spotted the turnoff for Green Fields, dozens and dozens of people making their way down the road.

  The turnoff led into a small suburban office park, dozens of buildings situated among massive parking lots. I made the decision to not follow the crowd, instead heading down towards the nearest building I could find.

  I approached the three-story office building, one of those drab concrete structures that looked more like a massive cinderblock with windows running along the sides than any place people might actually work in.

  After making my way around the perimeter, I spotted a service ladder that led all the way to the roof. I scaled the rungs and pulled myself onto the top, taking a survey of the area around me once I was on my feet.

  Then, I heard it—that familiar sound, that low roar of an unruly crowd. I hurried over to the far end of the roof, laying my eyes on Green Fields.

  It was a massive piece of property, a series of Spanish-style buildings with tile roofs among tall, swaying palm trees. The green of the well-maintained lawns was a sharp contrast to the desert around it, and the effect of the place was that it appeared more like a luxury resort than any kind of hospital.

  And in front of the tall gates that blocked it off from the road was a massive crowd, a hundred or so teeming people, the front row’s hands on the gate as they tried to break their way in.

  Clearly, I wasn’t the only one who’d had the idea of coming here for supplies. But luckily, I’d arrived before they’d managed to storm the place.

  Going in through the front wasn’t an option—not a chance I was going to risk gettin
g stuck in that mob when they finally took the gates down. I looked around for another option, noticing that one of the nearby office buildings connected to a large parking garage at the back of the Green Fields complex. If I could get on top of it, I might be able to get in.

  It was as good a plan of any. As I scaled back down the ladder, I thanked my lucky stars that one of the key traits of a mob was how stupid it was. Instead of taking the time to see if there was an easier way into the building, they instead chose to gather out front and mill around like a bunch of barnyard critters.

  “Man’s just another animal,” Hopkins had said. He knew what he was talking about.

  Flashlight in hand, I ran from building to building, not wanting anyone to see me and get any big ideas about trying to find out exactly where I was going. Before too long I reached the building behind the parking garage. But no lucky break with the ladder this time—the outside of the building was solid concrete with no way to get up.

  Other than through the building, that is.

  I went around to the back of it and found a large window that looked into a huge conference room. Using the butt of the flashlight, I smashed through the glass, making sure to step back and avoid the thick, jagged shards that tumbled down onto the pavement.

  I didn’t waste any time in getting inside, using the flashlight to clear away the bottom side of the window before jumping into the conference room. The door was open to the main floor of the level, and as I hurried through it I gave myself a moment to take in the sight of the office, one cubicle after another, all empty.

  Never again would any white-collar workers sit at these little human cubbies, making sales calls or filling out spreadsheets. Sure, life was going to be rough from here on out, but I couldn’t help but wonder how many office drones were secretly happy at the dawning reality that they’d never have to put on a tie and drive an hour in traffic to come here. Before too long nature would start taking this place apart, the desert creeping over the grass and slowly pulling the office parks down into the dunes.