by TW Brown
“Note this location,” Joel said into his mic. “I want us to work towards getting a security post here. That will effectively put us at both ends of Boulder City.”
Debra made a noise that he took as an affirmative. There were an assortment of affirmatives from several others as they rolled past. And then they were back in what Joel was now considering “the Wasteland” as the highway gave over to the larger interstate. But this stretch was short-lived as the smudge of what had once been the Las Vegas suburbs came into view.
“No way,” Debra breathed in an uncharacteristic display of astonishment.
It had been just days, but in the time since his last trip to the Strip, Las Vegas was deteriorating. He did not think that it would be more than a matter of a few years and there might be almost no sign that this area had once been a burgeoning city with suburbs that had begun to sprawl fearlessly, if not foolishly, into the desert.
Joel was no stranger to a war zone. He’d seen his share during his tour. This was something else entirely. Buildings were shot up, burned down, and/or graffiti tagged beyond belief. Most of the graffiti was easy to determine the origin of with phrases of “He is Risen”, “The end has come! Praise God!” and a variety of scripture chapter and verse tags. But there was still a fair share of obscene images, words, and phrases sticking out like weeds.
Amidst all the chaos were buildings or residences that appeared untouched. It reminded Joel of how a tornado could rip through a neighborhood, destroying some houses entirely while others were left without a scratch. And now that they had rounded the big bend, the dark smudge on the horizon told them exactly where the city of Las Vegas sat in relation to their current location.
Joel opened the map that he’d insisted be placed in each vehicle and began to study it as they rolled along. Twice he glanced up when somebody would remark about what were simply the latest in a string of horrors that gave the impression they were rolling into the gates of Hell itself.
The second time he looked up, he was just in time to see a group of four or five people sprinting after them, waving their arms wildly over their heads in a futile attempt to flag them down. There was one Humvee a deuce-and-a-half, and a panel van still in his convoy.
Looking up, he saw the signs for the Interstate 515/215 interchange. An idea came. Part of him wanted to push it away. But it was perhaps the best strategy considering what they faced.
“Okay, listen up,” Joel keyed the radio. “We are rolling into an unknown situation against hostiles of both the living and undead variety. I want Malik to go with Will the Deuce follow Interstate 215 into the zone. I will be circling around and coming in from the north. Both groups will use Interstate 15 to approach. Once we separate, I want us to maintain radio silence. I am not sure what their monitoring capabilities are, but if we hit them from two directions, I believe we will have the best chance at success. Both teams have the noisemakers, and are to utilize them at their discretion.”
“Roger that,” Will answered after a brief pause.
“See everybody on the other side.” Joel pulled his headset off and tossed it on the floor.
For the next several minutes, the only sounds were of the engine of the Humvee as it churned along the interstate. Eventually, the sounds of a firefight could start to be heard intermittently. The Strip was to their left, so Joel would have to crane around and past Debra if he hoped to catch any glimpse, but he knew that it was a pointless exercise. Nothing could be done until they came all the way around the city and dropped on to Interstate 15 heading south and into the heart of Las Vegas.
As it was, they still had to roll through the heart of the residential suburbia that surrounded what had once been considered an adult vacation Mecca. As they rolled along, the going did become a bit more treacherous, and Debra spent her time equally between cursing the abandoned vehicles that were now more numerous and trying to avoid hitting the growing number of undead that were stumbling along.
Many of them had likely been drawn out by the sounds of gunfire and explosions in the distance, but more still were coming out as the growling engines of the Humvee and the van echoed off every flat surface that bordered the interstate.
According to the last sign they’d passed, the Interstate 15 junction was two miles ahead. Joel could feel a single bead of sweat on his neck as it rolled down his spine, sending a chill through his entire body.
“I just want to be on record as saying that this is not your best idea,” Debra muttered as they rolled along.
Joel glanced over and saw that she’d removed her headset. The conversation would be just between the two of them. It seemed that she gave him more reasons every day to respect and admire her.
“I understand,” Joel said with a nod. “And I know I am the one who has stated repeatedly that emotions would be a weakness. However, this young man represents a promise that I made. Also, if we can manage to rescue him, I believe we will grow our population in a big way and to our benefit. Every single person we save will see us as the sole reason they are alive.”
“That sort of gratitude only lasts so long, boss.”
“But in the time we have, I believe we can weed out those who don’t fit our mold and hone those we wish to keep.”
They drove in silence for a few moments, but eventually Debra spoke again. “This is still not a good idea. And you have to understand that we’ve already lost some people in this. We have to be able to not only refill those vacancies, but also come away with enough manpower to make this viable. You risk the morale of the entire community with this move, and I would not be doing you or me any favors by not pointing this out.”
Joel heard the hidden message in her voice. Part of him wanted to lash out, but he knew that would be pointless.
As they continued to drive on, he considered her words. He’d denied other attempts at rescues in the past claiming that it was not worth the risk to their manpower. Yet, here he was doing exactly what he’d forbidden. Of course, he couldn’t show any doubt in what he did. That was how leaders lost their flock.
He was about to try and make some sort of statement asserting his decision when what had once been the main strip of Las Vegas came into view on their left.
“Wow.” It was the only word that could find its way out of his mouth.
He had not really thought about this part of the city in the past several weeks. He certainly hadn’t realized that it was not nearly as interconnected as the newer area that he’d considered his home away from home.
“It’s a wasteland,” Debra breathed.
While the fires had gone out some time ago, many of the landmark casinos that had helped build Las Vegas into what it had become were little more than smoldering ruins. And then there were the undead.
“There must be thousands,” Joel said as he found himself unable to look away.
With many of the taller structures little more than mounds of smoking rubble, the undead could be seen in great numbers. It was also obvious that they were all headed in one direction.
He was scanning the road ahead when he heard a rumble that was not from his group. This was in front and growing louder.
“Stop,” he said, placing a hand on Debra’s arm.
The wait was short. The bullet-riddled sign ahead announced that they were approaching the Interstate 15 exits. North led to Salt Lake City and south would open up to Los Angeles. Coming down that southbound off-ramp were a procession of motorcycles.
Joel had not been as into the whole zombie genre as his wife, but he’d watched a few of the films with her. This one instantly brought to mind the motorcycle gang at the end of Dawn of the Dead. The reason Joel could remember this particular instance so well was because he’d commented on the idiocy of riding around in the zombie apocalypse on a bike. Add in what he knew about how the walking dead were apparently drawn to sound and he was stunned that this band of morons were still alive.
“Malik?” Joel called, still not keying the mic to maintain radio sile
nce.
“Yeah, I’m on them,” the man shouted back.
It was also clear that the bikers had spotted them. The procession slowed and came to a stop just beyond the bend in the overpass that came from Interstate 15. They did not cluster, but instead, remained spread out.
Joel was deciding whether to just give Malik the go ahead to light this group up when one man engaged his kickstand and climbed off his bike. The rider pulled off his helmet and hung it on his handlebars before starting off on foot in Joel’s direction.
“Stay put and don’t hesitate to do what needs to be done,” Joel said as he removed his harness and exited the vehicle.
He felt the heat roll over his body as it reflected off the hardtop from the sun that was now almost directly overhead. Making a show of unholstering one of his handguns and placing it inside the vehicle, Joel started toward the man. Of course he still had a variety of weapons, but most were concealed enough that this person wouldn’t be aware until it was too late if things went south.
“I think we’re close enough,” the man finally called out when they were still at least ten yards apart. “I notice you didn’t bother to open your jacket when you made that display of removing a weapon. If you’re out and about with just that single pistol, you won’t be sucking in air for much longer.”
“Name’s Joel Landon.” He decided to dismiss with any of the banter.
“Reggie Keller.” The man folded his arms across his chest. “We aren’t looking for a fight. And since you have that machine gun back there…” He made a nod towards the Humvee behind Joel. “I figure you could take us down without even a single casualty.”
“A big biker gang like you?” Joel snorted. “I imagine you have had plenty of practice in the fighting department. Seems odd that you would just roll over without a problem.”
“We’ve handled our business when we needed to, but the reason we are still rolling is because we don’t pick a fight we are not positive we can win handily.”
“So you’re bullies.” It wasn’t a question.
“Nope,” Reggie answered. “We are survivors. We don’t just roll in and take shit. In fact, we were heading through town to try and find some group supposedly hanging out at the Hoover Dam. Been listening to their recorded message for two days now. Only, we seemed to have shown up in the middle of a fight.” The man paused, rubbing his hands down his face in a sign of exasperation. “I sure hope we didn’t roll out here for nothing. We actually had a pretty nice setup just outside of Reno. All was going well until a rogue military group came in and screwed it all up.”
Joel smiled. “And what can you offer the community at the dam?”
Reggie cocked his head and then looked beyond at the Humvee again before returning his attention to Joel. “Numbers for one. Ain’t a single one of us hasn’t put down our share of the stenches.”
“Stenches?” Joel arched an eyebrow.
“Walkers…zombies…whatever you want to call them. Can’t deny that those things reek.”
“There might be a way you can assure yourself a place in that group at the dam.”
“Oh yeah? You know ‘em?” The man seemed an even mixture of skeptical and interested.
Joel didn’t answer. He continued to eye the man.
“Look, pal, not sure who you are or think you are for that matter. I had my folks pull up and I came to you by myself to see if there was a way we could pass without a problem. If that ain’t the case or you think you will just roll over us, you’re welcome to try it. And you’ll probably survive it, but you will take some serious losses in the process. We don’t have a beef with you or your people—”
Joel had heard enough. “It’s my group you’re heading towards. We’re from the dam. I set things up there. I say who joins and who doesn’t.”
“Sounds good, but anybody can say that.”
Joel recited the message he knew played on a loop.
“Okay, maybe that is you. Not that you couldn’t just have a good memory. So what the hell are you doing here? This isn’t someplace I’d be scavenging. Lord knows there are places closer and probably less populated with stenches and wanna-be road warriors.”
Joel gave a very brief description of why he was indeed heading into someplace that he’d warned his people away from long ago. “Being able to liberate this group and have them join us would be good in and of itself if their numbers are even close to what we’ve managed to ascertain. But eliminating this group of lunatics is just as important. People like that could pose a problem if they are allowed to get up a head of steam.”
“You mean the Jesus-crispies who keep spewing how this is some end-of-times bullshit?” Reggie scoffed.
“Yeah,” Joel laughed. If this guy did prove to be interested in joining his community and accept the rules he prescribed, he might actually like him. “That’s who I’m talking about.”
“So, if you are in fact the leader of this group, let’s hear your spiel.”
“Excuse me?” Joel was growing impatient. He had people waiting on him and every minute he spent talking to this guy could mean losing more of his people as well as being able to salvage fewer people if Conrad’s group proved useable and willing.
“I think I need to know what I would be getting myself and my people into.” Reggie folded his arms across his chest.
“Here is the short and simple answer since I don’t really have time to waste. If you join us, there is no going back. I won’t have somebody come in, scout us out, and then come back to try and take us down. I have the final say on things, but we do have a small council. If you and your people prove…helpful,” he caught himself before saying the word ‘useful’ and possibly giving the wrong impression, “then you will likely have a member on the council before long.”
“Not sure if we are up to that sort of commitment.”
“Fine,” Joel gave a dismissive wave and turned to head back to the Humvee. “We pass each other with a truce in effect. And tonight, when I’m in my house taking a hot shower, I’ll hope that you and your crew are at least someplace safe.”
He was about to climb into the Humvee when a voice called out from behind him.
“Wait! You have hot water? Like…real hot water?”
Joel turned to see the man walking towards him. He heard the sound of the machine gun adjust to track the man.
“And lights. Maybe we should lead with it in our updated message. But to answer your question, yes, the power is on in our little community,” Joel said as he climbed up and looked over the open door to the vehicle.
“Well then, maybe I spoke a bit hastily.” Reggie glanced up at the machine gun pointed at him and then returned his attention to Joel.
“My terms haven’t changed.”
“Wouldn’t expect them to,” Reggie admitted.
“And if you are serious, then I could use your numbers right now.”
“On this rescue mission you mentioned.” Reggie nodded and clapped his hands together. “I think we can agree to that.”
“Then fall in.” Joel didn’t wait for any further response. He climbed into the Humvee and slammed the door shut, giving Debra a nod to roll out.
As they drove past the post-apocalyptic motorcycle gang, Joel gave them a nod. He also made a quick inventory of the weapons he could see. While they were well equipped, they’d been right to give over to his Humvee and the machine gun mounted on top.
They were just rolling past a small three-car wreck when he noticed the convoy of motorcycles rumbling up from their rear. He smiled. If nothing else, they had fodder for the fight. If things went well, they would have some more fighters to fill out the ranks that had been dented by that earlier attack.
By the time they’d passed through the cloverleaf overpasses that led off in all directions, the bikers had come up and were now mixed in around Joel and his half of the team. Debra’s hands had tightened on the steering wheel at first, but she eventually eased up and focused her energy on driving around th
e scattered vehicles left to slowly be consumed by a world that would not need their services any longer.
As they cruised along the Las Vegas Expressway, Joel caught sight of the massive medical complex that made up the University and Valley Hospital Medical Centers. Despite the fact that those locations would probably be a hive of undead, there would have to be at least an attempt to glean what they could from those locations.
There remained a lack of any serious amount of the walking dead on the interstate probably due to the tall fencing that lined it. But as the Sahara Avenue exit came into view, a few small clusters began to appear. Joel was about to tell Malik to handle things at his discretion when the motorcycles began to peel away.
Debra slowed to allow them to take the lead. The bikes with sidecars all took point. In each sidecar an individual stood up, each holding what looked like a katana. They were also wearing some sort of harness rig that kept them tethered to the bike.
“Maybe I was a bit pre-mature in my assessment,” Joel muttered.
“So we won’t be having them join?” Debra asked.
“Quite the opposite.” Joel turned to Debra. “I was almost ready to dismiss them. I figured they would make great fodder and nothing more.”
He turned his attention forward just in time to see the first of the motorcycles reach a small group of zombies. The man in the sidecar leaned out just enough and swung. His blade severed the head in one quick sweep. The body toppled and the head rolled away and disappeared under an abandoned vehicle.
It didn’t matter that the head would still be animate. The body was now out of the picture which effectively removed the zombie from play.
“I think these individuals will make a welcome addition to our numbers.” He considered things for a moment as he watched the brutal efficiency of the bikers as they cut a path through the undead. “Perhaps more so than those individuals who have spent this entire time hiding and hoping for a miracle.”
“Whatever you say, boss,” Debra sniffed as they rounded another bend and now were able to see the once inviting skyline of the newer Las Vegas Strip.