by Sean Patten
“Sure,” I said.
“They’re like everyone else—got their information on computers and stuff. Mobsters using spreadsheets! Isn’t that wild?”
I said nothing, letting him go on.
“Anyway, what I’m thinking is that if the power’s fried and all that, it means that all their information is fried, too. Which means…”
He did a little dance as he walked, like he was celebrating something. Then he turned his eyes to me, as if waiting for me to finish.
“It means that your debt’s been wiped out,” I finished.
“That’s right!” he said. “Means I go from wondering if I’m going to get my fingers broken to being totally off the freaking hook! This is awesome!”
“Sure,” I said. “Awesome.”
“I mean, I probably can’t show my face around some of those places, but who cares? And I bet those guys’ll have bigger things to worry about than tracking me down for some chump change, even if I did show up.”
My mind started to drift as he spoke, but that didn’t seem to bother Carlos—he struck me as the type who didn’t really need someone to be engaged while he talked, that he was just happy to have some around at least pretending to listen.
“I feel like a free man,” he said. “Like a huge weight’s been lifted. This is…it’s just incredible! I don’t even know what to do with myself. I feel like…”
He went on like this, and I turned my attention back to our destination while he talked.
I tried to focus on our next steps, but my mind began drifting.
I began thinking of Kelly.
It was stupid, and I knew it. Any hope that she’d still been alive had gone up in flames along with the plane I’d seen explode at O’Donnelly last night.
If I was going to survive this disaster, I needed to put thoughts of her to the back of my mind, for the time being at least. I had Steve to think of. And not only that, but the whole reason Steve and I were in our current predicament was because I’d been stupid enough to talk him into going to the airport with me. I couldn’t risk being distracted like that again.
I snapped back to reality, realizing that Carlos was still talking.
“Man,” he said. “And I bet once the Strip clears out I can get one of those primo penthouses—the kinds they have set aside for the high rollers. You know, I bet a man could really make something out of himself right now, as bad as things are. It’s like we all got a clean slate, you know? Everyone gets to start fresh!”
It was a nice thought. At least so long as you ignored the fact that we were living in totally lawless anarchy. I didn’t put much stock into it. A man was going to be the same kind of man after the collapse as he was before. No running from who you were.
“Okay,” I said to Carlos. “Hush up—we’re almost there.”
“Got it, boss,” he said.
Him referring to me as “boss” didn’t sit all that well. But I realized, like it or not, I was the one in charge of this little expedition.
We soon arrived at the outskirts of the Strip, making our way through a neighborhood of enormous, palatial houses—a very rich neighborhood.
“Shit,” he said. “Maybe I’ll take one of these instead of a penthouse. Bet you could turn these houses into forts with a little doing. Get yourself an army, hole up, maybe even find a few girls to keep you company, and—”
I spotted something ahead, near the turn for the road leading to the Strip. At first, it looked like nothing more than a pile of garbage. But I couldn’t take my eyes off it.
“Quiet,” I said. “We’re getting near.”
“Sure, sure,” he said.
I kept moving towards the thing, not sure what it was or why I was so interested in it. But as I drew closer, I began to make it out.
It was a body, slumped up against the street sign on the corner.
“Aw, damn,” said Carlos. “That a body?”
“It is,” I said. “Now quiet!”
Carlos’s mouth formed into a flat line as I kept moving towards the body. As I made my way down the street, it hit me how damned quiet it was. Sure, we weren’t on the Strip yet, but we were near enough that there should’ve been more people around.
But there weren’t people—there was only one. And he wasn’t moving.
I trotted the last few dozen feet towards the body, Carlos keeping up. Once I got close, I dropped down and took a closer look.
It was a man, looking to be around forty. His head hung loosely on his shoulder, his arms draped down over his lap. He was still as a stone—definitely dead.
But he was shrouded in darkness, and I couldn’t make out what, exactly had happened to him. So, I slipped the flashlight out of my waistband, clicked it on, and pointed it at the body.
I gasped at what I saw.
The man was dead, no doubt about that. And he hadn’t died of gunshot wounds or a brick to the head or anything like that.
Long lines cut through the man’s shirt, exposing skin underneath drenched with still-wet blood. Someone, or something, had effortlessly sliced open his belly, exposing the viscera right beneath the flesh.
“Whoa!” shouted Carlos, staggering backward. “What the hell happened to him?”
“Quiet!” I hissed.
I clicked off the flashlight and looked around, trying to find any clue as to who—or what—had done this.
A sound in the distance cut through the still, quiet air. It grew louder by the moment, and as I did I recognized it as the sound of running footfalls.
From around the corner up ahead, a man appeared, an expression of all-consuming panic on his face as he ran as fast as he could down the road.
I only had a moment to wonder what on earth he was running from, because the question was answered right away.
It was surreal at first—I knew what I was seeing, but the sight was so bizarre that my brain almost didn’t want to register it.
Chasing behind the man, its orange and black stripes striking even in the low light of the early evening, was a tiger, its brilliant white fangs bared.
“Run!” shouted the man as he spotted us.
But before I had a chance to say or do anything, the tiger stopped in its tracks. The man turned around the corner and was gone.
“What the—” Carlos started. “Is that a fucking tiger?”
I stood still as a stone as the animal looked around. I hoped that it somehow wouldn’t notice us, that it might turn around and leave.
No such luck. The beast locked its eyes onto us, bared his teeth again, and let out a snarling roar.
Chapter 18
“Run!”
I barely had the presence of mind to shove my flashlight back into my waistband before breaking out into a run.
“Are you serious?” Carlos asked, fear in his voice.
“Yes!” I shouted. “Now move!”
After taking a split-second to make sure that Carlos had gotten it into his head that he needed to move, I took off down the road towards the corner.
“Shit, shit, shit,” repeated Carlos as he stayed hot on my heels.
A quick glance over my shoulder revealed that the tiger wasn’t going to let us get away that easily. With incredible power and speed, the animal took off after us, its muscles moving with sleek grace underneath its fur.
“Where are we going?” Carlos asked. “That thing’s not screwing around!”
Explaining things to Carlos was the last thing on my mind as I ran, but it was a good question. I scanned the road as I moved, spotting what looked to be a hotel up ahead. It was an older building, but it was the best we were going to get—I gave us about a minute before the tiger would be right on top of us.
“Up there!” I shouted. “The hotel!”
“Got it!”
I pumped my arms and legs so hard that I felt for a moment that my body might fall to pieces.
Thirty seconds later we were at the hotel. The front door looked to be locked up tight, so I quickly took out
my flashlight and smashed open one of the first-level windows and cleared the broken glass.
“In!” I shouted.
Carlos nodded before heaving his big body over the window and climbing inside.
I looked back and saw that, sure enough, the tiger was approaching. Its eyes stayed locked onto us, pure, cold, animal instinct written on its face.
Once Carlos was over the window I moved next, being careful to not cut myself on the glass below. It wasn’t easy to vault over with the medical kit in my hands, but there wasn’t a chance I was letting that thing out of my sight.
On the other side I took a moment to catch my breath and scan the room. We looked to be in some kind of side office, the door to the lobby open up ahead. On the other side of the window I heard the tiger let out a hard snort, and I almost could feel the wet heat from the breath on my skin.
“Come on,” I said to Carlos. “Get to that door, now!”
“Heard that!” he said.
We both got up just in time to watch the tiger place its heavy paws onto the window and look into the room. It let out another snarl, this one booming through the small meeting room.
“Go!” I shouted.
Carlos moved his big body through the door and I followed. Once I was on the other side I didn’t waste any time slammed the door shut hard, the tiger’s body slamming into it with such force that it nearly took it off the hinges.
But it didn’t break through, or try a second time. I heard another muffled snort through the door. Then I heard the soft plodding of paws on the cheap carpet, followed by it jumping out through the window.
Then silence.
“Holy shit,” said Carlos, his face as red as a tomato. “That…that was a goddamn tiger!”
“You’re right it was,” I said. “Nearly killed both of us.”
Carlos took in deep breath after deep breath, his big body clearly not accustomed to this kind of exertion.
“You move pretty fast for a big guy,” I said, allowing myself a small smile.
“Shit, man,” he said. “Never thought I could run like that. Guess all bets are off when there’s a damn tiger trying to chase you.”
“Good point,” I said.
Carlos took in several more deep breaths, trying to get back to normal.
“How…how the hell was there a damn tiger out there?” he asked. “I’m no expert on Vegas ecology, but I know enough to know that tigers aren’t native to the damn desert.”
It was a good point, and one that I hadn’t even considered. Then again, I had been running for my life—not much time to think when there’s a giant jungle cat hot on your heels.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe it got loose from the zoo or something.”
“Yeah,” said Carlos. “Or maybe it was some kind of pet of one of the rich guy’s houses we were by. Broke out of some diamond cage, maybe.”
It was as good of a guess as any. But there was no point in worrying about any of that.
“Shit,” said Carlos. “Bad enough we’ve gotta worry about other people, now we got animals to watch out for. Never in my life did I ever think I’d get taken down by a freaking tiger.”
“Got a feeling a lot of firsts like that are going to be happening,” I said.
I wasn’t in the mood for conversation, having realized that we’d just run headlong into a building without checking to see if it was safe.
“Hold up,” I said. “We need to make sure we didn’t just get ourselves into a worse situation here.”
“Good call,” he said.
“Stay quiet,” I said, taking the flashlight out and clicking it on.
I nearly jumped out of my skin at the first thing the beam landed on.
Another body.
“Fuck!” Carlos shouted.
“Quiet!” I hissed. “You want to get the attention of everyone nearby?”
Carlos shot his hands over his mouth, covering them like a kid who’d accidentally let a swear word slip in front of his parents.
“Sorry,” he said, his voice muffled.
I swept the flashlight beam over the lobby, learning quickly that the body I’d seen wasn’t the only one. Not by a long shot.
There had to be a half dozen bodies in the place, all of them with red splotches on their shirt, a couple with chunks of their heads blown clean off, the gore underneath red and glistening, like cherry cobbler.
I fought back the urge to retch and kept on, looking for more clues. Didn’t take long to find them—the floor was littered with bullet casings and the walls were pocked full of bullet holes.
“Looks like a gunfight or something,” said Carlos.
“Come on.”
I got up to my feet and took another moment to let the last traces of stress from the tiger incident leave my body. Once I felt ready, I stepped further into the lobby.
Closer inspection revealed that, sure enough, the men had been killed in a gunfight. The guys—and they were all men—were darker-skinned, looking to be Hispanic.
“Shit,” said Carlos. “Check out these tattoos.”
I moved over to Carlos where he was squatted at the feet of one of the bodies, apparently squinting to see the details of the men in the dark.
“What tattoos?”
He reached forward and took the right hand of the nearest body, lifting it up. I pointed my beam at the hand and, sure enough, it was covered in small tattoos.
“These are gang tattoos,” he said. “These were some hard-hitting guys from south of the border.” He dropped the hand and let out a dry laugh. “And I’m guessing that you don’t need my medical skills to tell you how they died.”
“How long you think they’ve been dead for?” I asked.
Carlos touched the man’s skin again, rubbing the fleshy part of the man’s hand between his fingers.
“Hmm,” he said. “He’s cold, but not ice cold. I’d guess he got capped a few hours ago.”
“Gang fight in the middle of the day,” I said. “These assholes didn’t waste any time going at each other’s throats.”
Carlos shrugged. “Gang beefs wait for no man, I guess.”
A thought occurred to me—if they were gang members, that meant there was a good chance they had weapons.
“Check these guys out,” I said. “See if they’ve got anything we can use.”
“Good call, bud,” he said.
“But watch out—one of them might still be alive and kicking.”
Carlos let out a grunt of a response before beginning to pat down the man in front of him.
Over the next few minutes, Carlos and I went from body to body, checking their hands and pockets and boots and everything else for anything we could use.
“What you got?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said. “Not a damn thing. That is, unless you want a few rolls of bills.”
“Money’s not going to do us any good,” I said. “We need guns, ammo, knives—anything like that.”
But I didn’t find a damn thing. Whoever had won this little shootout had been smart enough to stick around after and pick clean all of the bodies.
By the looks of things, people were wising up and getting it into their heads that supplies were going to be running short very soon, and whoever had the biggest and most guns was going to be one calling the shots.
I shuddered at the idea of some gang leader turning the Strip into his own personal fiefdom, running it so ruthlessly that he’d make Attila the Hun look like Mother Theresa. With the government gone and no authority, it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility.
“Shit,” Carlos said. “Not even a damn pocket knife on any of these guys.”
“Damn it,” I said under my breath.
I stood up, realizing that there wasn’t any point in continuing to look—they’d been totally scavenged.
“What’s the next move, J?” Carlos asked.
“Not a chance we’re going back out there and taking our chances with Shere Khan,” I said.
“Only other place,” I said. “Up.”
“Up? What’s up?”
“Safety, for now,” I said. “Once we’re up on the roof we can get the lay of the land, see what kind of shape the Strip is in. Because if how it was last night is any indication, we’re not going to want to be anywhere near it when the evening hits.”
“Yeah,” said Carlos. “You’re right about that. Place is gonna turn into a goddamn madhouse.”
“Then let’s do it,” I said. “Hotel looked pretty close to some other buildings—maybe we can cut across the tops and bypass the Strip altogether.”
“Shit, man,” he said. “I’m getting my workout with you today.”
“Get used to it,” I said. “Not gonna get any easier.”
Right as I spoke, Carlos’s belly growled so loud I could hear it from feet away.
“You think we could find something to eat?” he asked. “I’m thinking that tiger chase burned through whatever food I had in me.”
“Food’s going to be hard to come across,” I said. “We’ll have to both keep an eye out.”
“Got it,” he said.
“Good. Now let’s move.”
Carlos answered with a nod and the two of us were off. We made our way up the grand spiral staircase that led to the second floor. Once up there, I spotted more evidence of the gunfight. A few more gang members were sprawled out behind the railing that looked over the lobby.
“No luck for these guys either,” he said.
“Yeah,” I said right back. “Looks like they tried to get to the high ground and got wiped out anyway. Whoever they were fighting knew what they were doing.”
“No kidding,” said Carlos. “Every poor son of a bitch I’ve seen looks to be from the same crew. Not a single guy from another side.”
“You sure?” I asked. “It’s not two gangs?”
“Nope,” he said. “They’ve all got the same tats. So, unless there was some kind of, I don’t know, gang civil war or something, they were fighting someone else.”