PreWar Earth_Volume 1

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PreWar Earth_Volume 1 Page 7

by Bryce Touchstone


  “It sure is a nice day.” Wilson’s small talk interruption annoyed Rufus. He looked down to the front receiving area of the casino. Trucks returned from their scout of the residential areas, a group ready to offload anything useful for city operations. Another group sorted through the remainder, team leaders assigning locations for buckets, jeans, plastic bottles. A woman checked the level in a water tank on the side of the building.

  “Any word on the Idaho boys?” Rufus said, scanning the horizon.

  “None yet. They were expected this morning.”

  “I know that. And Los Angeles?”

  “The Union is sending two hundred unemployed cops over next week.”

  “That’s not soon enough. I want them here in two days.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Let’s head down.” Rufus placed the binoculars on the desk.

  A guard greeted them and called the elevator.

  Rufus pressed the ‘G’ button. “You ever been to Moab, Wilson?”

  “No?” He seemed annoyed with the question.

  “It’s quite the place. I hiked to the bottom of a canyon out that way once, then spent two days doing LSD and shooting imaginary planes from the sky. When the rangers found me, I was nearly dead.”

  “Why?”

  “How can you really know yourself without testing your limits?” Rufus leaned against the doors, dismissive of the exchange, studying the map in more detail. “So this is it, then?”

  “Five-twenty PM,” the bot rattled in a worn voice that made Rufus think of rust. The elevator they rode had never been finished, exposed wires and rough sheetrock where fancy, tacky casino paneling should have been.

  Studying the bot, Rufus thought it looked at home among the wires and steel and buttons. And if the elevator got stuck, the bot would not complain. “Wilson, do you ever feel that maybe we got it wrong?”

  “What do you mean?” Wilson didn’t look up from his papers.

  At once, for some unknown reason, Rufus disliked his metal assistant. “Nothing.”

  The elevator stopped and the doors opened. The smell of diesel fumes and garbage and burnt garbage made Rufus feel at home. “Wilson, I’d like to have a look at the staging point.”

  Wilson looked up as though to protest, then thinking better of it, motioned for a car.

  Rufus felt eerie driving north in the southbound lanes of the Vegas Strip. The evacuees mostly stood outside of their vehicles, waiting for the convoy to leave and take them to safety.

  “Poor people,” Wilson said.

  “Lambs waiting for the slaughter.” Perhaps it was the steadiness in Rufus’s voice that made Wilson snap his head around. “What?”

  Wilson looked to the ground. “Nothing, I just don’t see how you can be so cold towards them.”

  “I see the world for what it really is. This alone makes me cold?” Wilson shook his head and turned to look at the convoy line. “Man the fuck up, Wilson. Speak your mind.”

  “These people didn’t ask for this.”

  Rufus pulled to a stop at the staging point. “These people have had it far too good. They’ve scraped by on the back of a fractured system.”

  “The system will rebuild.”

  “Wake the fuck up, man.” Rufus opened his door and stepped out.

  Cables crossed overhead, connecting between the buildings on either side of the Strip. Workers were busy up the length of the buildings—fitting shades to windows, removing furniture, counting seeds, fitting solar panels, tightening cables, carrying tarps to the roofs. And they all worked for Rufus.

  He started to ask Wilson a question when a group standing at the entrance to a casino across the street caught his eye. He walked across, Wilson following behind, to observe. All eyes were fixed on the controller inside. The man was young, scarcely a grown man, and stood behind the bar area. His hands moved fast and with confidence across the different controls. Building security, crop controls, rainwater diverters, traffic management, vehicle coordination—it was all being managed under one system.

  Scanning the observers, he found his good friend. He walked over to stand by her. “It is good to see you here, Alexandra.”

  She turned to look at him and smiled. “And you, Rufus.” She turned her attention back to the controller.

  “He’s good, is he not?”

  She watched him for a few moments before answering. “He is very good,” she said, observing the numerous screens fixed to liquor shelves and over the beer signs above. “I think he’s the best I’ve ever seen.” She turned to face Rufus. “So, how is everything going on your big day? What news?”

  “The convoy is soon leaving. We are right at schedule with the water fittings for the roof. Could use some help with getting more seeds, our food is running low.”

  Alexandra smiled again. “I will make a call.”

  Wilson scurried to Rufus’s side. “Sir, the water boys are back.”

  “Won’t you excuse me, my old friend?”

  Alexandra was fixated on the young controller. “Of course. We’ll speak soon. Good luck today.”

  “Thank you.” Rufus and Wilson walked north along the Strip. A line of eighteen-wheelers rumbled into town, their engines breathing life into the Remainers, those staying behind to live under the rule of Rufus in the deserted desert city. Workers on rooftops yelled and cheered.

  “There was a problem, sir.”

  Rufus’s smile faded. “What problem?”

  “One of our teams didn’t come back.”

  Rufus felt his nerves stir. “Where is the Texan?”

  Wilson looked to his clipboard. “He’s with the Valley County crew. They’re towards the back of the line.”

  Rufus watched the trucks round the corner ahead, deep in thought. “Ask him to come see me, please.”

  Wilson made his way towards the trucks as Rufus headed towards the military staging area. Soldiers loaded their large, fume-producing trucks with supplies; they studied maps and checked their radios; a few argued with Leavers, folks scared shitless about the road ahead and angry at having to leave their beautiful desert neighborhoods.

  “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Rufus, mayor of the grand deserted desert city of Las Vegas, king of the thirsty people.”

  Rufus smiled as he turned around. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Amber Lanistar, reporter of the extraordinary.”

  Amber performed a humorous curtsy for the desert mayor. “At your service, sire.”

  Rufus laughed loudly. “Girl, stop that! So, how is life for my favorite reporter?” Amber’s figure didn’t fill her pants like they used to. Rufus frowned inside.

  She walked up and gave him a soft punch on the shoulder. “Yeah, things are fine.”

  “But, how are you?”

  The country’s best field reporter looked to the dry dust at her feet, then to the convoy. At that moment, she looked as weary as the world around them. “I’m tired,” she said with a ragged voice unbecoming of her.

  Rufus nodded. “If you would like some help, I could make arrangements. I know some effective professionals.”

  Amber shifted nervously. “Thanks.” She smiled, a needed shift in the mood. “I’m fine, really. I head overseas for a short assignment after this, then I think I will take a much-needed vacation.”

  “That sounds good. Perhaps I’ll take one with you.”

  “You’re always welcome to. Anyways, I’m going to head off and interview a few more people before they leave town.”

  Wilson was walking up. “Alright, my dear. Don’t be a stranger.”

  Amber waved as she walked away.

  “Sir.” Wilson struggled to catch his breath. “The Texan. He’s coming.”

  “You should take more walks, Wilson.” Be
hind his assistant, the Texan strode towards them, his country boy hair fixed to his head. “Stetson, welcome back.”

  “Thank you, Mister Mayor.”

  “How was the trip?”

  The Texan rubbed his hands together, looking around and gathering his thoughts. “Tricky. Things are gonna get tougher for you from here on out. The mountain folks, they aren’t going to take kindly to y’all taking their liquid, sir.”

  Rufus put his lanky arms behind his back, stiff from the cold, tired from lack of sleep. “We had a problem with one of the teams, Stetson.”

  The Texan nodded. “Yes, sir, I’ve heard.”

  “Who was it?”

  “It’s an independent group. Rebels.”

  “How much do you know about them?”

  “They’re well-equipped, heavily armed, and have some smart folks working for them. Programmers. Lots of fancy bots. Self-funded. The Next, they call themselves.”

  “So some pretty bad people, huh?”

  “I’d take a hit on the trucks and people and be done with it, if I were you.”

  “I’m not sure I can do that.”

  Stetson rubbed his boot toe on the dirt, shrugging. “Up to you. I reckon you’ve got enough on your plate here as it is.”

  Rufus nodded. “Yeah…” He closed his eyes and rubbed them, seeing spreadsheets and maps and re-zoning plans and budget requests and figures that didn’t bode in his favor.

  “You okay?” The Texan leaned on one of his long muscular legs, his workman’s hands in his jeans pockets.

  Rufus put a hand on his shoulder. “Yeah, just tired. So, I hear you’re leaving us?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “A better offer?”

  “A job. Big one. Hoping to retire after this.”

  “I see. Well, if you ever want work, you’re always welcome here. We need people with your skills.”

  The Texan shook the mayor’s hand, then disappeared into the crowd. Rufus wondered if he’d ever see him again.

  A woman speaking loudly caught Rufus’s attention. He made his way to the front of the convoy.

  “I am not leaving with these people!” the woman said, holding a piece of paper.

  “What’s the matter here?” the mayor said.

  The soldier, a captain, was annoyed. “This woman is breaking protocol.”

  “I have a funeral to get to, you asshole!”

  “Is this true?” Rufus said.

  She looked to him. “Yes.” Tears began streaming from her weary eyes.

  “Who died, might I ask?”

  She looked to the ground. “My father.”

  “I’m sorry to hear.”

  The captain didn’t care. “Nobody within the convoy is allowed to pass this point until the convoy leaves.”

  “I’m not… I’m not in your convoy. I have two cars just on the other side waiting for me.” She bent over, hands on knees, exhausted.

  “Let her through,” Rufus said.

  “Sir, that is not your call.” The captain stood straight up.

  Rufus looked the soldier in the eyes. “Oh, but it is my call, Captain. This is my city. I could have one of your superiors remind you of that if you like.”

  The soldier eyed the mayor, forcing a smartass response down his throat. He handed the woman’s papers back to her. “Let her through,” the soldier said.

  The woman rose and grabbed the paper. “Thank you,” she said, hugging Rufus.

  “It is no problem, my dear. What is your name?”

  “Kimberley,” the woman said, drying her eyes.

  “I wish you well in this world, Kimberley.”

  She smiled, turned, and walked through the checkpoint, the robotic road barriers lowering their gates as she passed.

  Rufus walked along the line of cars, inspecting the packing job the Leavers had done. Clumsy. Wasteful. Unthoughtful. These people had no hope. Rufus knew it in his bones. There would come a day when—

  A young boy slammed into Rufus’s leg and fell to the ground, the contents of his little backpack scattering. The mayor reached down to pick him up, feeling more of his ribs than he should have been able to. “Well now, where are we off to in such a hurry, young man?”

  The boy looked up to Rufus, dirt smudged across his face. He began picking up his items and placing them back in his pack.

  “Tyler!” the boy’s father called, running up to him.

  “It’s no bother, sir,” Rufus said, helping the boy pick the items up. A worn deck of cards, dice, a wooden marble, a small checkers board. “So, Tyler, is it? You seem to be ready to travel.”

  “I’m sorry about that, sir,” the man said. “Wait, you’re the new mayor, aren’t you?”

  “Guilty. Rufus.” The mayor extended his hand.

  “Dan Smith.” He had a handshake as plain as his name.

  Rufus looked to the boy as he stood, putting his pack back on his shoulders. “How would you like a trade, Tyler?” The boy looked upon the mayor, guarding his thoughts. Rufus reached into his pocket and pulled his silver Zippo out. “I’ll trade you, this lighter for your favorite story.”

  Tyler eyed the lighter with wonder.

  “Oh, that’s alright, sir,” the boy’s father said.

  Rufus ignored him. “What say you, son?”

  The boy’s eyes flicked left to right. “There… There was a story from school.”

  “Go on.” Rufus took a knee, looking Tyler in the eyes.

  “A family had a house. One day, some bad people came and took it from them.”

  Rufus considered. “I see. And why is this your favorite story? It seems so simple.”

  The boy was eager to answer. “I got in trouble at school.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I didn’t think the people who came were bad.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because they were just thirsty and hungry. But the teacher said they were bad. And Daddy said they were bad. But I didn’t think they were. They were just thirsty and hungry.”

  The mayor nearly fell back. “I see.” He smiled, at once understanding the boy. He handed the lighter to Tyler, leaning towards the young man’s dirty face. “I think you understand more of the world than your teacher, or your father, or most people. Never lose that. Travel well, Tyler.”

  The young boy took the lighter, flicking it open and closed, open and closed. He put it into his pack as his plain father carried him away.

  “Sir?” The captain from before stood beside Rufus. “Sir, they are ready.”

  Rufus stood. “Alright, Captain.” He followed the soldier towards the checkpoint.

  “Sir, I apologize for before. I’m just tired.”

  “I understand, Captain. No apology needed. This new world of ours, it tires us all.”

  The soldier nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  A voice boomed over the loudspeakers. “Alright, people. Everyone return to your vehicles. We are now departing Las Vegas. This convoy is bound for FEMA Camp Eight outside of Denver, Colorado, and is until that time under the protection of the United States Army. You are to remain part of this convoy at all times. Anyone leaving this convoy will no longer be under our protection, and will not be allowed to rejoin. Follow the directions of all human and robotic soldiers.”

  Rufus shuddered at the last sentence.

  An Army brigadier general walked up to Rufus and extended his hand. “Mister Mayor, sir, the city of Las Vegas is hereby abandoned by the Government of the United States of America. This area is now classified as a settlement. Las Vegas is yours.”

  Rufus shook his hand. “Thank you, General.”

  The general looked to the city around them, wary. “From here on out, you are all on yo
ur own. Good luck, sir.”

  Rufus nodded. Behind him, people scrambled to get back into their cars as though they would be left behind. Vehicles cranked and the metal snake began to weave its way out of Las Vegas.

  As the convoy headed out into the desert, a siren boomed off the buildings. Rufus turned and went to call for Wilson, when a drop of rain landed on the bald spot on top of his head.

  Above, tarps began rolling across the Strip, extending along cables to connect between buildings on either side of the road. The rain began, light at first, then getting heavier and heavier until it pounded loudly against the tarps. From the abandoned buildings on the homeless side, small sheets of plastic, bits of clothes on sticks, whatever would catch water extended from numerous holes in the building.

  Workers called out to one another, the first true test of the Remainers’ coordination. At first, water gushed chaotically from the tops of the buildings, then one by one, the robots at the top used their arms to align spouts and pipes.

  Rufus watched as man and machine alike worked in unison as an orchestra. The water began pouring into the tanks on the ground, and the Remainers cheered, jumping and running around.

  The scene felt like victory. And Rufus knew, this new world belonged to them.

  ***

  About the Author

  Bryce Touchstone was born and raised in Pontotoc, Mississippi. After graduating from Mississippi State University he moved to South Korea to teach English. From his first passport stamp he never slowed down. Traveling to over 30 countries, he has been lucky enough to meet people on every continent. After meeting his wonderful wife, Karen, he moved to Australia. He worked with Parks and Wildlife in Western Australia for over five years as a spatial scientist, where he met some of the most wonderful people in his life. He lives in Australia with his wife Karen, his four cats – Misdemeanor, Buddy, Stan, and Salvador, and his dog Lucille.

 

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