by Sean Patten
“As you wish, Mr. Hernandez. And we’ll be keeping your backpack and other goods in one of our secure storage lockers near the entrance. For long-term storage, we can keep your belongings in the vaults.”
“Short term is fine. No one’s going to be able to get to them, right?” I asked, nervous as hell about letting the supplies out of my sight.
The tailor shook his head.
“They’ll be in the most secure place in the city.”
“Man, you worry too much!” said Carlos. “Now, let’s hit it!”
He clapped his hands together, another big smile on his face.
“Now, you ready for a night you’ll never forget?”
Chapter 23
Carlos and I emerged from the halls and stepped back out onto the main floor, the scene just as wild as ever. The whole thing was like some bizarre repeat of me and Steve at the Medley the night before, though this time with a steady pulse of dread just under the surface.
“Man!” said Carlos. “I’m so ready to hit the tables it’s not even funny!”
“Just don’t do anything crazy,” I said. “I don’t trust these people.”
Carlos laughed.
“You kidding?” he asked. “If anything, they’re the ones who shouldn’t be trusting me—trusting me to not break the freaking bank, that is!”
He was cocky and overconfident, and I didn’t like it.
“Now,” he said. “You want anything, just tell them it’s on my account.”
I looked out over the scene in front of me, still having a hard time grasping the idea that all of this was happening at the same time as the apocalypse currently taking place beyond the doors.
“Just don’t take too long,” I told Carlos. “I don’t want to be here for another minute longer than we need to be.”
“Man, don’t be such a buzzkill,” Carlos said. “It’s the end of the world, J! Time to party like it!”
With that, he gave me one last slap on the back before striding out onto the casino floor and becoming another member of the crowd. I kept my eyes on him, thankful in that moment that he’d picked such a garish suit. Between that and his size, he’d be easy to keep track of.
But now it was just me. Exactly like I’d been at the Medley, I had no idea what to do with myself. Gambling was about the least appealing thing I could’ve imagined, I didn’t want to get drunk, and I was still full from the burger.
All I wanted was to be on my way, to be cutting down the distance between me and Steve. But I needed Carlos, and he had other things on his mind.
I considered the idea that Carlos was still in a state of shock, and that losing himself at the tables was his way of trying to create a sense of normalcy. Either way, it was keeping me from my brother.
As I stepped through the casino, I began keeping track of how many bouncers I saw in the place. There were dozens, all dressed in dark suits, their eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. Every now and then one of them would adjust his belt or unbutton and re-button his jacket, revealing a concealed silver pistol.
And the men didn’t take too kindly to me looking at them. Whenever they’d notice me staring they’d flash a hard glance in my direction, one that made clear in no uncertain terms that they wanted me to stay focused on the games and entertainment.
I was aware of a slight buzz from the one drink I’d had, and I didn’t like it. I wanted to be clear-headed and sober, ready for whatever might happen. There was no doubt in my mind that the odds of this night going smoothly, with Carlos having a little fun at the tables before we got on our way, were slim to none.
Part of me was kicking myself for not leaving when I had the chance, of not seeing if I could tend to Steve without Carlos’s help. But the thought of showing up and realizing I needed a trained professional was enough to extend my patience a little further.
I decided to go to one of the bars to kill some time. Once there, I slid into an open seat and ordered a sparkling water.
“Thirty dollars,” said the bartender.
“Are you serious?” I asked. “For a water?”
“Sparkling’s at a premium.”
‘What isn’t right now?”
He shrugged and continued standing there, waiting for me to make a decision.
“Just regular water, then,” I said.
“Bar’s for paying customers only,” he quickly responded.
“Fine,” I said, not wanting to deal with it. “Sparkling water. Goes on Carlos Hernandez’s account.”
The bartender nodded and disappeared, moments later placing a tall glass of sparkling water in front of me, a lime wedge floating among the bubbles.
Drink in hand, I turned around in my seat and watched the activity of the casino.
I still couldn’t get over it. So many rich-looking men and women, all of them gambling and drinking and carrying on as if they didn’t have a care in the world.
“That’s a lovely watch.”
I glanced over to see a middle-aged woman next to me, dressed in a long, slinky dark blue dress, her hair done up in grand curls. To her right was a balding man in a suit not too dissimilar from mine, his eyes on me just like hers.
My gaze flicked down to the luxury watch I had on, realizing the tailor had slipped it on my wrist without my even noticing. I didn’t care about the style—I was just happy to be able to tell the time.
“Thanks,” I said. “I think.”
“Yes,” said the man in an unmistakably upper-class voice. “Very lovely.”
Small talk was just as unappealing to me as it always had been, but I wanted information.
“You two know what the deal with this place is?” I asked.
They both flashed me the same confused expression.
“‘The deal’?” asked the woman. “What do you mean?”
“Who’s running this place?” I asked. “And how they’re able to get all of this in here during the middle of the power outage.”
The couple glanced at one another, both seeming to think the same thing.
“It’s the Troika,” said the man, as if that were all the answer I needed. “It’s just how things are done here.”
“Seriously,” I said. “All the guards…it’s like they’ve got their own private army here. And they’re really just running a casino?”
The two shared another glance, this one slightly more worried.
“Those sorts of matters…aren’t really discussed,” said the woman. “Whatever’s going on outside is…regrettable, sure. But think of this as a little oasis from all that. Somewhere to get away from it all.”
I didn’t like that answer—they sounded like something out of a tourism brochure.
“You both know what’s happening, right?” I asked, a trace of frantic energy slipping into my tone. “Civilization’s collapsing out there! And everyone’s in here drinking and having fun like it’s any other day in Vegas. And God knows what the people running this place have planned. If they’ve got a way to keep this place powered, who knows what else they’ve got in mind?”
The man and the woman said nothing, both simply staring at me with wide eyes.
“We’re…going to stretch our legs,” said the man. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
“And try to relax,” said the woman as the two of them got up. “No sense in worrying about things out of your control.”
With that, the couple got up and walked, drinks in hand, to the other side of the bar, far away from me.
I scolded myself for getting all doomsday on them, but I couldn’t help it. There was simply no way that this place would be able to stay a secret for long, and once it did the entire population of the city would be banging down the doors trying to get in.
And the owners had to know this. I looked around once again at all the guards. If there were that many upstairs, there had to be more down below, wherever the owners were residing. Say there were a hundred, all armed, all trained, all organized. They could use this place as a base, a place
to restock and rearm after going out into the city to take more and more territory.
Had whoever owned the Troika known about the coming collapse? Were they prepared to take over?
“Another…sparkling water?” asked the bartender.
“Sure,” I said. “And one question.”
The bartender said nothing, waiting for me to ask.
“Can you tell me anything about the people who own this place?”
His eyes still on me, the bartender began preparing my drink.
“And why do you want to know about them?” he asked.
“Just curious,” I said. “I had no idea that this place even existed, let alone that it would still be up and running after the EMP hit. I just want to know a little more about it.”
The bartender set the drink in front of me before resting his hands on the bar and leaning forward.
“Word to the wise,” he said. “The people in charge here don’t appreciate guests nosing around. They’re simply happy to provide a place to have fun in the city. And I’d strongly suggest you avoid nosing into the matter any further. Especially if you’re going to be bothering other guests in the process.”
“Uh, got it,” I said.
“Consider this a friendly warning,” he said. “You go around asking the wrong people the wrong questions and you might find yourself the subject of attention that you won’t like.”
He nodded, and was off.
So much for gathering intel.
Water in hand, I turned back towards the casino floor. Right as I did, a commotion broke out at one of the nearby tables. A woman, as well dressed as the others, was carrying on about something. Two of the guards were at her sides, both of them putting their hands on her at the same time.
“Get your hands off me!” she shouted, shaking the men off. “I just need a little more money, you see? I’ll be back up within an hour.”
The men weren’t persuaded. They grabbed her again, this time not letting her slip out of their grasp.
“No!” she shouted. “You can’t! I won’t let you!”
Then, to my shock, the men began dragging her away from the table, the woman kicking all the while.
“You let me go right now!” she yelled. “Do you have any idea who I am?”
I sure as hell didn’t, and whoever the woman happened to be, her name didn’t carry much sway with the guards. It looked to me like she was just some gambler who’d gotten in so deep that the house had decided to cut her off, and she wasn’t taking it well.
“Please!” she shouted. “Don’t take me back there! You can’t!”
Tears were streaming down her face, her mascara running and leaving wet, black trails down her cheeks, her eyes wild and frantic.
“Please!” she shouted. “You can’t!”
I realized that something was going on, something more severe than a woman simply being cut off. The screams and protests continued as they dragged the manic woman across the casino floor, she and the men disappearing through a set of double doors.
And then she was gone. The few other casino patrons who’d been watching returned to their games.
“What happened?” I asked the man next to me.
I knew I wasn’t supposed to be asking questions, but what I’d just seen had been too strange to ignore.
“Word to the wise,” he said. “You see any shit like that go down, you ignore it. And if you don’t want to end up like that broad, then don’t get in too deep with the powers that be.”
Without waiting for me to respond, the man turned back to his drink.
It was too strange. There was no way even the most addicted gambler would react to being kicked out in that way. There had to be something going on, something more sinister than what was on the surface.
I finished my drink and headed out, making my way to through the casino and trying to get a sense of where everything was. Beyond the main casino floor was a large auditorium, about half the seats filled while some variety show played out.
A quick check of my watch revealed that it was already after seven. There were no windows in the casino, as was to be expected, but the time meant that dark was upon us. As much as I wanted to get back to Steve, it probably wasn’t the best idea to be wandering the streets of Vegas at this hour. And if what Carlos and I had seen was any indication it was only going to get worse as the night went on.
I wandered through the casino, killing time as best I could. But since gambling held no appeal to me and I didn’t want to get drunk, I was at a loss for things to do. And any time my mind wandered it’d go right back to Steve, imagining him in agony while I was dressed in an expensive suit and surrounded by total luxury.
After plopping down on a bench and deciding to people-watch, a half hour slipped by. I scanned the crowd, trying to catch sight of Carlos in his big white suit. He was nowhere to be found, and I hoped that he wasn’t getting himself into trouble.
Then, another yell sounded out from across the casino floor. I shot to my feet and scanned the area around me for the source of the noise.
I’d been looking for Carlos, and I’d found him. But like the woman I’d seen before he was surrounded on all sides by suited guards, five of them forming a circle around him that was getting tighter by the second.
“No!” he shouted out, his face painted with panic. “I’m just down a little! I can win it back! I swear!”
His words didn’t do him a single bit of good. I watched in shock, feeling as though I should do something, anything.
But what could I do? Take on the entire staff of the casino with my bare hands?
Carlos’s eyes scanned around the casino, finally landing on me.
“J!” he shouted out. “You gotta talk to them, tell them they’ve got the wrong guy!”
I hurried over to the scene, one of the guards shooting out a massive hand to block my path once he realized that I was getting close.
“Back off,” the guard growled to me. “Unless you want your neck broken.”
“He’s with me,” I said, pointing to Carlos. “What’s going to happen to him?”
The guard glanced down at me, a small smile curling his lips.
“You’ll see,” he said. “But you might want to move now if you want to get a good seat.”
“A good…what?” I asked.
He didn’t stick around to answer my question. The guards descended on Carlos, grabbing each of one his limbs and carrying him out of there like a hog-tied pig, him yelling all the while.
Just like before, the patrons pretended not to notice and the few that had been watching turned their attention back to their drinks and cards and company as soon as the commotion was over.
I stood there stunned, not sure what to make of the situation. Without knowing what else to do, I went back to the bar and sat down.
“Another sparkling water,” I said to the bartender.
“You the one on the Hernandez account?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “That’s me.”
“No more drinks for you, then,” he said. “Unless you want to pay cash.”
“What?” I asked.
“That account’s been closed,” he said. “Permanently.”
Without another word, the bartender left to attend to other customers.
“Damn,” said the man next to me. “You should’ve drunk up while you had the chance.”
I wasn’t concerned about that, not even a little.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “Where are they taking those people?”
The man glanced at his watch.
“Eight o’clock,” he said.
“What? What does that mean?”
A smile curled his lips.
“Means the show’s about to start.”
“The wh—”
Before I had a chance to finish my sentence, the Troika’s PA system came to life with a crackle.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” spoke a pleasant, woman’s voice over the speakers. “The even
ing’s entertainment is about to begin. Attendance is mandatory. Please proceed to the auditorium in an orderly fashion. You have our assurance that our trained security staff will make sure that your belongings on the casino floor will be untouched for the duration. The Troika thanks you for your cooperation.”
“What the—” I started to ask, just as the man next to me, now all smiles, threw back the rest of his drink and hopped out of his seat.
“Come on!” he said. “We gotta move fast if we want to get a good seat.”
“A good seat for what?” I demanded. “What’s happening?”
The man said nothing, instead hurrying out of the bar and towards the doors leading to the auditorium. All around me the guests made their way to the back, the guards standing by to make sure that not a soul was lingering.
“Come on,” said the bartender. “Get moving.”
Not knowing what else to do, I got up and quickly made my way through the crowd, taking advantage of the fact that I wasn’t with a group to get ahead of the masses.
It was strange to watch the hundreds of casino-goers moved slowly and in an orderly fashion—it was the first calm crowd that I’d seen since the EMP hit. Probably helped that dozens and dozens of guards were watching carefully, all of them packing heat.
I soon found the man who’d been sitting next to me at the bar. He noticed me and gestured to come sit up front with him. I settled into one of the plush seats, the stage dark and the red curtain drawn, the word “Troika” written on it in massive letters.
“Can’t believe we’re going to see this shit live,” he said. “This is my first night at the Troika, and I’ve heard all about their show.”
“What kind of show?” I asked. “Why are they making everyone watch?”
He didn’t answer, his eyes fixed ahead.
Moments later I glanced back to see that the entire place was packed, hundreds and hundreds of people all sitting in attendance and filling the massive theater.
The lights went low, and the curtain began to pull back.
Whatever this show was, it was about to get started.
Chapter 24
The curtain pulled back, revealing a darkened stage. The crowd was completely silent, all of the well-dressed men and women sipping their drinks like they were about to watch an opera begin.