by Mike Kraus
Rick started getting concerned that they would get lost in the maze of machinery in the maintenance area when Jane tugged on his sleeve and pointed off to the side. “Couple of doors there. Should we check and see where we are?”
“Nice. Good find.” Rick headed for the door, opened it and looked out only to immediately turn off the lantern and close the door nearly shut again. He pushed Jane back with his right hand before reaching for his pistol and drawing it.
“What is it?” Jane whispered, her eyes wide with fear. The maintenance room was pitch-black, but outside through the double doors she could see bits of light coming through as they weaved back and forth.
“It’s them.”
Chapter 7
Las Vegas, Nevada
Rick pulled the door closed slowly, keeping the handle turned until it was sealed, then slowly releasing it. He winced as the latch clicked into place, then he checked the flimsy-looking lock to make sure it was engaged.
“How many were there?” Jane whispered again. Rick switched on the lantern and double-checked the lock, then turned to Jane and used his body to shield the lantern so that none of the light would leak out through the cracks around the double doors.
“Three at least. All of them with flashlights and rifles.” Rick slid his pistol back into its holster and looked up and around at the room. “We need to find a way out of here. Come on, let’s keep going this way. Maybe there’s an exit down here somewhere.”
Rick and Jane jogged through the maintenance area for a few more minutes until the machinery began to thin out and be replaced by more storage shelves and cleaning supplies again. Upon seeing this, Rick realized that they were at the end of the maintenance area and were now entering another utility area. Instead of having neatly labeled and organized supplies like the previous utility area, though, the new one consisted mostly of unopened boxes with large barcodes and QR codes on them. The extra-wide walkways and strips of yellow tape running down the floor made sense when he saw a pair of small forklifts parked in a corner of the room.
“This must be an unloading area.” Rick suddenly grew excited. “We must be near the back of the building. I bet there’s an exit around here!” As Rick and Jane rounded a corner, the room grew warmer and brighter and they both increased their speed until they finally arrived at exactly what Rick was hoping they would find.
Three rectangular windows were set into large rolling metal doors of the type used at commercial loading docks. While two of the doors were fully closed, one was halfway open, allowing the relatively cool air inside the building to escape and bringing in the heat from outside. Jane stepped past Rick to start running towards the open door when he put an arm out in front of her, halting her in her tracks.
“Sh.” Rick raised a finger to his lips. He gently took off his gun bag and backpack and lowered them to the ground before pulling the shotgun out. He took a few cautious steps forward, not wanting to be on the wrong side of an ambush. The open door was the third of the three and the farthest away, so Rick leaned in towards the first closed door, peeking through the window to see outside.
A thick layer of dust coated the outside of the window and Rick pressed his nose against the wire mesh glass, straining to see what was outside. Behind the casino, a short distance away, was a service road and beyond that was another tall building that Rick couldn’t make out very well. A loading dock sat directly beyond the three rolling doors behind the casino but no trucks were parked either in the dock or on the service road.
With no sign or sound of the men inside or the vehicles outside, Rick motioned at Jane. “All right, looks like the coast is clear. Let’s get outside and run down this road till we find a place to hide on the other side. Ready?”
Jane nodded and she and Rick both crouched down next to the half-opened doorway. Rick put his backpack back on and was in the process of placing his shotgun down into the gun bag, ready to pull out his pistol instead, when the door leading out into the hotel creaked open. Rick’s head jerked up and he looked at the man standing before him.
The man was on the short side, with a solid build and wearing a tank top, camo cargo pants and a bandanna on his head. The gun in his hands—an AK of some sort—was held loosely, and for a long second both he and Rick stared at each other, mouths open, as they both tried to contemplate what was going on.
As the man raised his rifle he fumbled with it just long enough for Rick to stand up and fire his shotgun from the hip. Pain arced through Rick’s wrist and arm and he inadvertently dropped the shotgun to the floor. As metal clattered against the rough concrete, he heard a howl as the man in front of him clutched at his neck. Blood was pouring from the man’s neck and chest and he staggered back through the open door, tripped over his own feet and fell sideways in the hallway beyond.
Rick’s fingers burned as he wrapped them around the shotgun. He fought through the pain in his wrist as he pulled it against his shoulder and prepared to fire again if the man made any aggressive movements. There was a scuffle and a pair of shouts in the hallway and the injured man was suddenly pulled away from the open door. Rick ran to the door and kicked it shut, then twisted the latch and locked it tight. Behind him Jane held her hands to her face and shook her head, her eyes wide as she tried to comprehend what she had just seen.
Acting on pure adrenaline Rick ran back to the open door and turned to her. “Are you ready?” He shouted at her, not bothering with trying to remain quiet any longer. She nodded numbly and he grabbed her by the shoulder. “Let’s go, then!”
Rick was halfway under the door and about to help Jane through when he heard the rumble of a diesel engine drawing closer. He backed up into the utility area and pulled Jane to the side of the door. The squeal of tires came from outside and they were quickly followed by the sound of a pair of doors opening and closing again.
“What do we do?” Jane’s question was accompanied by the sounds of shouting from the men that were both inside the hotel and waiting outside near the loading dock. Rick racked his brain, trying to figure a way out of their situation. They could retreat back through the hotel and try to lose their pursuers that way, but that solution would be more likely than not to lead to certain death.
“I think they pulled up off to the right. There’s a nice bit of cover there if we crawl out. All we have to do is keep them occupied long enough to run down to the left, where I saw an alley leading through the next set of buildings. I think that’s our only shot.”
“That sounds horrible! How are you going to keep them occupied?”
Rick shook his head and smiled. “Not me, Jane. Us.”
Chapter 8
Las Vegas, Nevada
The entirety of the four minutes it took for Jane to unzip Rick’s backpack, pull out the twin bottles of vodka, find a box of matches he had put in one of the side pockets, grab a couple of old rags from a nearby shelf and stuff them into the necks of the bottles were pure agony for Rick. He spent that time alternating between peeking out the window to see if the men outside were getting closer and hoping that the ones inside the hotel weren’t about to shoot off the hinges to the doors and barge their way in.
When Jane finished, Rick nodded in approval and gave her one last final set of instructions. “Remember, just keep a tight hold on these, okay? When I tell you, throw the first one just inside the door here. I’ll take care of the second one.”
“Are you sure this will work?”
Rick had no idea whether or not it would, but he felt obligated to lie to her. “Absolutely.”
Jane kept a firm hold on the two bottles of vodka as Rick slid under the door and rolled out. He landed in a heap on the ground and groaned in pain before rising to one knee. He peeked over the edge of the walkway and guardrail next to the empty space where a truck would have backed in to the building to offload its cargo. The Humvee was still there and someone was sitting in the turret, swiveling around to watch the end of the building.
From the angle the Humvee was at,
Rick realized that anyone in their position wouldn’t have been able to see that one of the back doors of the building was open and, thus, they wouldn’t have necessarily thought to check down in that direction.
“Hurry up!” Rick whispered at Jane. She handed him both bottles and he set them down on the ground before helping her jump down. “You still have the matches?”
Jane held up the small box and he picked up one of the bottles. “Whatever you do, don’t drop this.”
The alcohol and chemical-soaked rag caught fire instantly and Jane yelped in surprise. Rick turned and gave her a wide-eyed look but it came too late. A shout down the road accompanied an uptick in the shouting and banging from inside the building and Rick realized that the time for action was either right then or never.
He grabbed the Molotov from Jane’s hand and ran halfway down the length of the loading dock with her in tow, then turned and lobbed it expertly through the opening in the loading dock door. The neck of the bottle caught on the lip of the door and broke, then the body of the bottle struck the edge of one of the metal shelves inside. It broke apart, sending the alcohol spilling across the floor.
As the flames licked greedily at the high-proof alcohol, they also found the spilled contents of a few cans of paint thinner that Rick had noticed on the shelf. While Jane had been busy stuffing rags into the throats of the vodka bottles, Rick had quickly punctured and spilled the paint thinner across the floor, all the way up to the interior door that the injured man had retreated behind.
The effects of the Molotov by itself would have been more than enough to give the two men—three if the nearly dead one still counted—behind the door pause once they got it open. The addition of the paint thinner, however, had a profound effect on them before that even happened. The paint thinner, over the course of a few minutes, had leaked underneath the door and into the carpeting on top of which the two men and their nearly-dead companion stood and laid.
Flames wound their way through the offloading area, sending a blast of heat out across Rick and Jane’s backs before traveling beneath the door and erupting in the floor on the other side. Rick smiled grimly at the sound of the men’s screaming as their feet and legs were suddenly on fire, with nothing they could do to stop it but to flee down the dark halls, the flames and their flashlights the only source of light.
Even though the door in between the hotel hallway and the offloading area was still closed, the screams were loud enough to attract the attention of the gunner in the Humvee and the pair of men who had been walking down one side of the building, checking the doors on the exterior to see if they were open. The gunner swiveled his gun and trained it on the billowing smoke and flames that erupted out through the partially opened loading dock door and the pair of men began jogging towards the sight, wondering what was going on.
“Now or never.” Rick whispered quietly and held out the bottle for Jane to light the rag. It, like the first one, also caught fire immediately and Rick peeked up over the edge of the loading dock to see where his target was. The appearance of a new bit of smoke away from the building caught the eye of the gunner in the Humvee who swiveled slightly and fired several rounds that tore through the metal and concrete of the dock. Rick nearly dropped the Molotov as he ducked back down to avoid the fire.
When it stopped he scuttled several feet back down towards the building, masking himself slightly in the billows of smoke pouring out, then stood up and threw the bottle in a long arc, aiming not for the pair of men next to the Humvee, but for the vehicle itself. Rick’s hope was that the bottle would shatter on the windshield or front grill of the vehicle which would hopefully distract the men long enough for him and Jane to make their escape.
Rick watched the bottle as it soared end over end through the air as if in slow motion, finally coming to rest not on the front of the vehicle but on the very top. The bottle splintered and shattered across the machine gun turret, dousing the gunner, the exterior and the interior of the vehicle in alcohol and flames. The screams from the two men inside the Humvee were instant and horrifying. The driver kicked open his door and fell out on the ground, rolling around as he tried in vain to extinguish the fire.
The gunner took the brunt of the impact from the Molotov and tried desperately to put out the fire while still being trapped in his seat. Retreating into the Humvee only exposed him to more flames and climbing out was nearly impossible due to the level of trauma he was experiencing. As both of the men in the vehicle screamed out in pain, the two outside the Humvee froze in shock at what they were witnessing.
“Help me!” The driver, still rolling around on the ground, managed to get a couple of words out which snapped the two on foot into action. They both dropped their guns to the ground and one of them started using his hands to try to pat out the flames on the driver. The other one began running around the Humvee, alternating between trying to climb up onto the vehicle and jumping back off as the flames continued to grow more intense. It was obvious that he was trying to find a way to help the gunner, but was unwilling to risk his own life in the process.
As the gunner slowly burned to death, Rick and Jane made their escape. As soon as the first screams came from the direction of the Humvee, Rick had hissed at Jane. “Follow me and don’t fall behind!” After that single instruction Rick took off, running full tilt to the left down the service road as he aimed for a small path that led between two buildings on his right. Jane stayed close behind him and as the pair ducked into the path between the buildings, Rick risked stopping for a second to take a glance back.
As he watched the two men burning and their companions half-heartedly trying to help them, he felt a slight twinge of guilt that was immediately assuaged by thinking about what the men had been trying to do to Jane and himself. He briefly thought about getting out the hunting rifle and ensuring that all four of the men were dead, but the knowledge that there was another vehicle and more men somewhere close by made the decision for him.
“Come on.” Rick whispered to Jane, tugging at her shirt as she stared slack-jawed at the scene.
“Those men…”
“Tried to kill us. Let’s go.”
“But…”
“Let’s go. Now.”
Jane followed behind Rick as he wound his way down the narrow path between the buildings. They traveled parallel to the Strip for a few hundred feet before the path ended at another service road. Rick glanced both ways down the road before pointing to the right. “Nellis is that way. Are you good to keep walking for a while more? I want to get as much distance between them and us before we stop.”
Jane nodded but stayed silent, still thinking about the sight of the two burning men. Rick’s brutal efficiency in dealing with the attackers frightened her and she wasn’t sure what she thought of the strange man anymore.
Chapter 9
Three Days Before the Event
In the oil fields a hundred miles north of Las Vegas, a pair of seismologists sit in the back of a camper. They both wear glasses and loose-fitting clothing. Their brows are moist with sweat and a small oscillating fan hung from the ceiling of the camper does little but push the hot air around the room. The pitiful air conditioning unit hanging out of the back window hasn’t worked in weeks and there is no time in the schedule to get a new one.
A pair of monitors are mounted to each wall of the camper, and the seats the seismologists sit in are offset so they can each face in a different direction. One of them, wearing a white shirt and shorts, takes a gulp from a tall glass of water. The other, wearing a grey shirt and shorts, taps furiously on his keyboard. Every few seconds he glances between his two screens, watching as the data displayed on the black and white command line interface changes in response to his inputs.
“Gary?” The man in the grey shirt speaks.
“Hm?” Gary doesn’t look away from his screens as he finishes his glass of water.
“Look at this, would you?”
“What is it, Jacob? I’m in the middle
of—what the hell is that?” Gary swivels around in his chair with a sigh, rolling his eyes until he catches sight of Jacob’s screen. Gary’s glass drops from his hand and bounces on the carpet of the camper, rolling under the table and depositing a few stray drops of water on the floor and wall.
“That’s what I’d like to know.” Jacob taps the back end of his pen against the monitor and shakes his head. “Sure as hell isn’t normal, is it?”
Gary stretches his arm out and grabs a mobile phone off the table next to Jacob. He holds it up in front of the monitor and snaps a picture before sending it in a text message. A few moments later the phone’s screen lights up and a call comes through.
“Hello?” Gary answers the phone.
“What kind of bullshit games are you two trying to play with me?” The voice on the other end is gruff and annoyed.
“No games. This is the real deal.”
“How many sensors are picking it up?”
Gary looks at Jacob and shakes his head. “I don’t think you understand. Every single sensor is showing this. Pressure in every single well is building to phenomenal levels.”
“Why the hell haven’t the safety valves tripped?”
“No idea, sir. We can’t access any of the systems.”
“God dammit.” There is a sound of scuffling from the other end of the line and several more muted curses. “Get your asses out to the closest well and jack in directly. I’ll have a crew out there in two hours. As soon as you’re at the well call me back and I’ll have one of the techs here walk you through accessing the systems.”
Gary opens his mouth to argue but the line goes dead. He slowly places the phone back on the table. Next to him, Jacob raises a questioning eyebrow. “That didn’t sound good.”