The Secret History of Las Vegas

by Chris Abani

  With that he launched into a recap of the twins’ arrest by the lake and everything that had transpired up till then. When he was done, he stood up and went to the bathroom while Fred went to freshen their drinks and get some snacks. They had an awkward moment at the door as they both reached it at the same time, but that was replaced by amazement when they stepped back onto the porch to find Salazar peeing over the edge.

  Shit, he said. You came back faster than I expected. My bad. Old habit.

  He zippered up and sat down. Fred passed him a new beer, careful not to touch him in the process.

  What, he asked, picking up on her body language. You can work with freaks no problem, but a little public urination is a big deal.

  Fred ignored him and turned to Sunil. First to address the love issue you brought up, she said. Yes, there was a time when Water and I were intimate. We were lovers for about a year until it became unclear to me which twin I was actually sleeping with. I mean, it was always Water’s body, but there were times when I thought I saw Fire in his eyes.

  I understand, Sunil said.

  But then I also began to notice Fire peering out at us from under his caul when we made love. The whole thing got too weird, so I ended it. Do you really think that somehow triggered a breakdown for them?

  I don’t know. When did you stop seeing Water?

  Eight months ago. But they continued to work here at the carnival all that time, until two weeks ago when they just left for Vegas.

  What exactly did they do as King Kong, Salazar asked. I mean, did they wear a monkey costume or what?

  Both Fred and Sunil contemplated correcting him, but then chose not to.

  They were fire wizards, Sunil said. At least Fire was, as I understand.

  That’s correct, Fred said, shooting him a grateful smile.

  Like I know what the fuck that is, Salazar said.

  Well, one of their tricks, Fred said, was to set a very long pole on fire and then throw it in the air. As it dropped they would catch it and it would turn into an albino python. Stuff like that. The audience loved their show, but then Fire grew bored of the magic. They were working on something akin to walking on water. I think that’s why they may have been at Lake Mead.

  Because Criss Angel walked across Lake Mead, Salazar asked.

  So you’re not a total waste of space, Fred said.

  How long have they been with the carnival, Sunil asked.

  Since they were twelve, Fred said.

  And they spent the last few weeks just developing their new Jesus act, Salazar asked.

  Not exclusively; there are no free rides here. They helped out with the midget boxing matches—

  The what now, Salazar interjected.

  The midget boxing matches. Ferocious fighters. I wouldn’t want to tangle with them. Anyway, that’s what they did, but since the show only comes on at midnight, they didn’t need to make it back here until ten. For the rest of the time they were just gone.

  Gone where, Salazar asked.

  Just gone.

  You’re not very good at giving alibis, are you, Salazar said.

  I wasn’t aware that’s what I was supposed to be doing.

  Sunil saw where that line of conversation was going and headed off the argument quickly. What do you know of their early life? Before they joined the carnival. Do you know what caused their mutation?

  Everyone in the carnival is mutated in some way, Fred said, and we all come from within one hundred miles of each other.

  Ah, Sunil said. Downwinders?

  Yes, Fred said.

  What the fuck are downwinders, Salazar asked. Some cult of farty mutants?

  Downwinders are people adversely affected by the nuclear tests in Nevada because they lived downwind from the test sites, Sunil said. The wind literally blew the radiation through their farms, ranches, and towns, infecting them with radiation poisoning.

  Of course, as soon as we began to complain, the government did everything they could to hush it up, Fred said.

  I’m still not sure I’m buying this Mulder and Scully crap about the government and nuclear tests that can harm its own people, Salazar said. I mean, this is America, for fuck’s sake.

  That’s partly how it works, Sunil said. The clinical term is cognitive dissonance, and trust me, a whole country can be infected with it.

  So you’re telling me that radiation sickness from one bomb set off in Nevada in the fifties infected thousands of people, Salazar said. Give me a fucking break.

  We aren’t talking about one bomb from the fifties. I don’t think you fully appreciate how extensive the testing is. Most of the current nuclear tests are conducted at five-thousand-foot depths right by the water aquifers that give this entire area its water—I mean, all the civilian populations, Indian reservations, farms, all of it, except the military base, which has its water brought in, to this day. This is the water most of us grew up drinking, bathing in, and watering our crops and livestock with. So you can imagine, Fred said.

  The scale of it is staggering, Sunil said.

  I still can’t believe the government would knowingly go along with this, Salazar said.

  People magazine ran an article on the 1956 classic film The Conqueror that was filmed on location near St. George, Utah. Between 1956 and 1980, ninety-one members of the cast and crew came down with cancers, including Susan Hayward and John Wayne, Sunil said.

  Which side are you on, Doc, Salazar said to Sunil. To Fred he said: Look, our nuclear power is part of what makes this country great.

  As long as you don’t have to pay for it, Fred said. I grew up in a town within the danger zone. I remember seeing a mushroom cloud. I was playing in an abandoned mine with some other kids when we felt this wall of hot sand blow through the tunnel. We rushed for the exits. We’d been told not to look at the explosion because the intense light would make you blind. But I had to look, I just had to, and it was beautiful, the colors were unlike anything I’d ever seen before or since.

  You shouldn’t have been playing in an abandoned mine. Where were your parents?

  Fuck you, Detective.

  Thank you for being so honest with us, Sunil began.

  But?

  He wanted to say, But I feel like you aren’t telling me the entire truth. I feel like you are holding something back. Instead he said, But nothing. I was wondering if you ever met Selah.

  Yes, when I was twelve. My father used to run this carnival before me. He was deeply religious and he believed it was his divine mission to take care of the deformed, so wherever we traveled we tracked down locals with deformities and offered them a life of dignity with the carnival.

  So your father took Fire and Water from Selah, Sunil asked.

  Yes. She was in a bad way. She was dying of leukemia. She’d been exposed to radiation from an explosion, seen the cloud from within three miles of its epicenter.

  So that’s why Water says she’s a tree? The mushroom cloud reminds him of a tree.

  No, Fred said. The day after my father met Selah, we went to her cabin as agreed to collect the twins and put her in a hospice. We found the boys crying under a bristlecone tree a little up the trail from their house. It seemed Selah had hanged herself early that morning.

  Forty-one

  It was dark with the exception of one lamp on a table that cast a dim pool of light on the floor. In the gloom it seemed brighter than it really was. Water sat in a chair near the lamp, reading a copy of GQ, wondering if there would ever be a Hugo Boss suit or Dolce & Gabbana sweater designed with conjoined twins in mind. Beside him, under his caul, Fire snored.

  The door was flung open and Brewster strode in, flicking the overhead fluorescent light on, bathing the room in harsh radiation.

  Am I disturbing, he asked, and sat on the edge of the bed.

  A very nervous nurse flitted
by his elbow. They are Dr. Singh’s patients, he said. We should call him to come in before you ask them any more questions.

  Brewster’s look shut him up.

  Water put down the magazine. Fire shifted about under Water’s robe.

  Why even bother reading a magazine like that, Brewster asked. Do you think with the right disguise you can fit in?

  A completely blind chameleon still takes on the colors of its environment, Water said.

  Is that what you are, a chameleon?

  Water was silent.

  I asked you a question, Brewster said. I’m not as soft as Dr. Singh, so answer me.

  A vexillologist is an expert in the history of flags, Water said.

  I know this is just an act you’re putting on, Brewster snarled.

  Pope Pius II wrote an erotic book, Historia de duobus amantibus, in 1444, Water said.

  I know you’re really the one in control here, Brewster said. I’ve seen your MRIs.

  Michael Jackson holds the rights to the South Carolina state anthem, Water said.

  Don’t play this game with me, Brewster said.

  Black bears are not always black. They can be brown, cinnamon, yellow, and even white.

  Do you know that I have the power to keep you here indefinitely?

  A dog can hear frequencies that a human ear cannot, Water said.

  And then before Brewster could speak again, Water began rocking and repeating facts, rapid-fire, leaving no room for Brewster to speak:

  The infinity sign is called a lemniscate.

  Take your height and divide by eight, that’s how tall your head is.

  Pittsburgh is the only city where all major sports teams have the same colors: black and gold.

  It is illegal to own a red car in Shanghai.

  Zipporah was the wife of Moses.

  Donald Duck’s middle name is Fauntleroy.

  A baby eel is called an elver; a baby oyster is called a spot.

  Paper bags are outlawed in grocery stores in Afghanistan. They believe paper is sacred.

  Thomas Edison was afraid of the dark.

  Shut up, shut up! Brewster said.

  He was interrupted by the sound of Fire’s caul snapping open.

  What the fuck is going on, he asked.

  George W. Bush is related to every U.S. president from George Washington to Barack Obama, Water said. Barack and W are eleventh cousins.

  Enough, Brewster said.

  As soon as Dr. Singh comes in, I will be lodging a formal complaint, Fire said.

  With that, he retreated under the caul, snapping it closed.

  It’s just a matter of time, Brewster said, then you’re all mine.

  Forty-two

  From the small street off Fremont, the lights were close enough to touch. The sound of piped music was loud enough to make conversation hard, not that the group of boys, girls, men, and women strolling the short street was interested in talking. Even though prostitution was illegal in Las Vegas, the police never really bothered the workers there. They were pretty good at policing themselves, and at keeping drugs and violence, which was bad for business, out of their area.

  Vegas, someone once said, was no different from any small American town, except that everything hidden and denied there was celebrated in Vegas. It was, effectively, America’s, and increasingly the world’s, darkest and brightest subconscious.

  Horny Nick was bored. He polished his horns and lit a cigarette. He’d had no takers yet, but Sundays were quiet and drew a more conventional crowd less likely to go for a rent boy with filed teeth, tattoos, and implanted horns.

  Farther down the street, Annie and Petrol worked a corner. Annie was having a great night, and who didn’t want to fuck an elf from Lord of the Rings? Petrol drew a class of men who wanted to dominate or be dominated. Horny Nick was an acquired taste but one that cost more, so he wasn’t worried. With only a few johns he could make what Petrol and Annie took twice as long to earn.

  Peggy patrolled nearby, keeping a watchful eye on her friends, earning her keep as security. She was walking past Petrol and Annie when she saw a silver compact pass by, headed up the street. There was something off about it, she intuited, and for her that was enough. She began to run up the street shouting as Horny Nick leaned into the window.

  Peggy was less than ten feet away as Nick opened the passenger door and got in. The car peeled away from the curb and joined the traffic with practiced ease. Too slow to draw attention, fast enough to get away quick.

  I’m Horny Nick, Nick said.

  The driver smiled and, turning to him, jabbed a Taser to his jugular. Nick was unconscious in three seconds, a wet patch forming on his jeans.

  Outside, receding rapidly, Peggy hadn’t given up the chase.

  She finally stopped in the middle of the street, breathless, where Petrol and Annie joined her.

  What is it, Annie asked.

  Nick is in trouble, Peggy said, dialing.

  Who are you calling, Petrol asked.

  Salazar.

  Salazar’s phone went to voice mail.

  Shit! Peggy screamed. She knew it wouldn’t help to call the regular police.

  Forty-three

  In the growing desert cold, the lights of the carnival were like sharp points. The man in the wheelchair still sat in the spotlight, singing, his only concession to the cold a blanket draped over his legs.

  Fred, are you involved in any downwinder action groups, Sunil asked.

  Salazar sat forward.

  Do you think we’re eco-terrorists now, Fred asked.

  Fire said he was a downwinder nationalist, Sunil said. That’s a direct-action group.

  Even if that were true, you think I’m involved?

  It bears thinking about, Sunil said. Given that you share a similar . . . I’m not accusing you of anything, just trying to understand.

  No offense, but that’s just dumb. How would getting arrested at Lake Mead next to a blood dump help you commit an act of terrorism?

  I don’t know, Sunil said.

  Let me ask you something, she said.

  Fair enough, Sunil said.

  Where are you from? There’s an accent.

  South Africa.

  Well, since you share the fucked-up history of South Africa, have you ever killed anyone on either side of the political divide?

  Sunil shifted. Killed someone, he said. No.

  Fred smiled cruelly. Watched someone die, she asked.

  Sunil looked away.

  I’m not accusing you, Doctor, I’m just getting to know you.

  So you think that Fire and Water are innocent of all charges and they aren’t crazy?

  Yes, Fred said. Let me come and talk to them, she said. I will get them to open up. Get this whole thing cleared up by tomorrow afternoon.

  That would be very helpful, Sunil said. You would do that?

  For the twins? Sure, she said.

  Hold up here, Salazar said. Now, wait just a fucking minute. They are my twins, my case. You get to help on one condition.

  What is your condition?

  That you come into the station voluntarily and that we run your prints and take a statement.

  Fine. Can I talk to them, she asked Sunil.

  Now? On the phone?

  Any objections, Sunil asked Salazar.

  Now you care what I think.

  So?

  Let her have her fucking phone call, Salazar said.

  Sunil called the institute and asked the duty nurse to put the twins on.

  What’s up, Doc, Fire said.

  Hold for Fred, Sunil said, passing the phone.

  Fred took it. Some privacy, she said.

  Sunil looked at Salazar, who nodded. Fred left them on the porch and stepped back inside, clo
sing the door behind her. She was on the phone for only a few minutes before she came back out and handed the phone to Sunil and thanked him.

  Now you two need to leave, as I have a carnival to run, Fred said. She herded them to the door, taking their beer bottles.

  So you’ll come by in the morning, Sunil asked.

  Yes, I’ll meet you at the institute at ten.

  She walked them back to their car. Two men sat in a golf cart beside it.

  I see you have your own security, Sunil said.

  It’s a ghost town. We need to keep it safe, she said.

  Crowds were already beginning to mill about. The town suddenly looked alive, like a horror-film town, or a Stephen King novel, where everyone was dead in the daytime but came to life at night.

  Where the fuck did all these people come from, Salazar asked.

  All lost souls come to commune at the carnival, Fred said, laughing.

  Fuck, Salazar said. He got into the car quickly and started the engine.

  As Sunil turned to go, Fred touched his arm. Thank you for coming, she said. This is the closest thing the twins have to a home. I would like to bring them back. You understand, right? You lost your home too. Have you ever been back?

  Sunil smiled. Good night, he said, and got in beside Salazar.

  As they drove down the yellow brick road, Salazar said: You know she’s lying, right?

  Of course she is, Sunil said. The question is, what is she lying about, and why?

  The drive home was faster. Ten miles from the town, both of their cell phones began to beep.

  Finally, some service, Salazar said.

  Yes, Sunil said, looking at his phone.

  Asia had called seven times. Sheila five. Brewster five.

  Wow, he thought, busy night. He was curious about Asia’s calls, but Sheila and Brewster could wait. He tried Asia’s cell. There was no answer. As they hit the open road and gathered speed, Sunil thought back to Fred’s question: Have you ever been back?

  He had been once: but not to J’burg, or Soweto, but to Cape Town. Thinking about it now, Sunil was reminded of one of those moments of uneasy grace that he’d found on a beach in Cape Town shortly after his return.