“We are gonna get my boy back. If you care to help us with that, we will see to it your amigo is saved, too.” Duy and Mack looked at each other as if to say, “should we?” But after a mere few seconds of hesitation, Duycoaxed Anthony with, “we got nothing else to go on. I guess we need to do this.”
Tran tried to settle the anxious K9 down so that he could climb into the Sequoia with the duo. “It’s okay, boy. Calm down.” They hopped up into the open rear hatchback of the spacious luggage area of the SUV. Then it proceeded to burn off with them inside.
“So, what were you guys doin’ here in Mexico in the first place?” Humberto asked. “And what’s up with that dog? Is he vicious or what? He’s making me nervous.”
“We were here looking for these crazy people who have been doing experiments on innocent people and turning them into monsters. We actually found what we were looking for but got ambushed before we could leave.”
Duy replied.
“Oh, and this is Roscoe, he’s a pol…. umm... trained security dog.” The driver, Felipe, continued northbound at a pace best described as “balls to the wall.” He was driving about as fast as the vehicle could go without the wheels falling off, and only slowing down or stopping when necessary.
The two newest passengers held onto whatever they could to avoid being slung around in the back of the sport utility vehicle, as Anthony moaned, “I’m gonna be sick.”
Upon their arrival to the closest border gate to the U.S., the Toyota got to the rear of the line, about twenty cars deep. The Mexican militia working the gate recognized the vehicle and flagged the driver to pull into the next lane over, which according to the signage was closed. Felipe handed the gatekeeper a stuffed plain white envelope, and the gate popped open. “Okay, we are right around the corner from the airstrip. My people have been in communication with me. They have tracked the people who have your friend and my son - all the way to Nevada. So, we will fly into Las Vegas and take it from there.”
The large Toyota squealed onto a Hidalgo private airstrip where attending gatekeepers automatically opened the double entry gates upon sight of the vehicle.
“Hey, Humberto, can we make a quick pit stop in Dallas to pick up a buddy? He will prove very helpful if we get in a shit storm.”
“You know this is not a ‘for fun’ trip, right? We’re not going to see a show with those gay gringos and tigers.”
“Yeah, no -I know. This guy is big, good with weapons. He likes to fight.”
“Very well then,” Humberto conceded.
Duy phoned Mack with the news.
“Dude, we need your help. Jake’s been abducted, and they took him to Vegas. We are flying now, and we will pick you up at this little airstrip in Waxahachie. I’ll send you the GPS coordinates.”
“Whoa, hold on. Who has Jake? It must have taken about twenty guys to get him detained and abducted aaand who are you guys with?” Mack asked.
“We can explain later. But have you had any luck? “ Duy questioned.
“Kind of. I found Austin, and he’s taking care of Carson. I showed Austin the video, tried to explain to him as best I could about what really happened to his dad, Rich. But he acts like he doesn’t believe the whole Florida lab story. He said his dad was probably just drunk or high when he made the recording, possibly mentally disturbed.”
Mack continued “So, it seems as if Austin is still mad at Jake and he doesn’t believe th at Carson is in any danger either.”
“As for Amanda, she really is gone and has not spoken to Austin at all. He has no idea where she is.”
Mack’s iPhone buzzed and blared as a message flashed across the screen. “Hey Mack, it’s Megan. So, like - Campos is spreading rumors around here that some cop in Pennsylvania saw Jake eating some beans?? What’s going on? Can you call me please?”
“All right, Dew-man. I gotta call Megan. I’ll see you in Waxahachie in a bit.”
Mack returned the call to Megan and gave her thelatest updates concerning Jake. “I need to go with you,” she said. “I can help. I’ll meet you at the airstrip. “
An hour later, Megan met Mack at the secluded air strip in Waxahachie. They had not been there long when a small Cessna 120 propeller-driven plane came into view. It made an abrupt, jerky landing and wobbled its way another two hundred feet down the line before coming to a standstill.
The passenger door opened, and the attached built-in stairway lowered to the outside. Mack and Megan jogged up the stairs to join Duy, Anthony and Roscoe on the plane.
Mack then looked around and saw their other travel companions. He immediately recognized Humberto Aguilar as the head of the Aguilar drug cartel.
He casually worked his way over to Duy and sa id, “You didn’t tell me we would be traveling with drug kings.”
“You didn’t ask that,” Duyresponded. “But it’s all good, they are looking for their kid just like we are looking for Jake. We are in this together. At least we know they’re not afraid to get a little blood on them.”
“True that. Okay.” Mack settled into his seat next to his steamy academy classmate, Megan Anderson.
“Ok, Megan. So, tell me why you are so willing to risk everything to help us rescue Jake.”
Meg an began to bare it all. “I told you, there was a connection between us. On those days he trained me. It was life changing. We both felt it, and we both tried to fight it. I was married, we worked in the same division, our age difference... Everything about it was taboo. The repercussions we would have been dealt were extreme, we each could have found ourselves dumped, unemployed, chastised.
“So, we went our separate ways, I requested a transfer to Northwest just to make sure I would not be tempted to stray. “It worked out fine until one morning we ran into each other in traffic court downtown. The case was the result of a traffic stop we had made together on one of the training days. Our setting was postponed until after lunch and court intervened until the afternoon session would start back up. We had two hours to kill.
“I told Jake it would be a good opportunity for me to get a workout in, and he said he would like to lift as well. He suggested we go back to the Central Division where we could workout close by and make it back to court on time.
“I grabbed my workout clothes and gear out of my car and we drove together to Central. We separated at the station and I went into the ladies’ locker room to change into my exercise outfit, a white jogging bra with a half shirt over it, and pink spandex shorts with running shoes. I then went to see if Jake was ready and knocked on his office door. He opened the door and was already changed into a white wife-beater and black running shorts. When he turned to grab his shoes, I followed him into the large unoccupied single office and shut the door behind me. I don’t know why I shut the door; I just did.
“That was it. The point of no return. We just sprang at each other like two hungry wild animals attacking their prey. Hugging at first, then groping. That led to light kissing and then a hard-core make out session. There was a large wooden door behind the desk which led to a large walk-in concrete storage closet beneath the stairs that led to the second floor of the building.
“Jake opened the close t door as we waltzed our way into the dark storage room. We could hear heels going up the stairs above us, but it merely acted as a white noise filter in the background. We barely noticed those sounds over our heavy breathing, moaning, and whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ear.
“Although the room felt cool as we first went in, before long it felt steamy and hot like a sauna. We were both sweating, panting, lusting. Before long, each of us had frantic hands in the other person’s shorts. And without going into detail, let’s just say that at least one of us got off before we got out.
“And the rest is history. We began seeing each other regularly and religiously for a couple of months. We would meet in parking lots, hotel rooms. It was incredible. And then it was over as abruptly as it began.”
Mack was intrigued. “What happened?�
�
“I ended it. I got scared. It was getting too serious too fast. I was young, immature, confused about what I really wanted. I also was extremely busy with many side ventures I was working on. In addition to my full-time career with DPD, I was into Crossfit training, and doing some modeling. I also created a website to promote fitness in law enforcement and was selling gym apparel and other fitness gear. That was a full-time job.
“My whole life became centered around social media. I had my website that I constantly had to update, as well as accounts on Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, Twitter. I had to interact with everyone, while marketing myself and my products nonstop. I never actually used vacation time to relax or go anywhere or do anything other than work on my business ventures. I felt like a damn social media whore.
“I got stressed out over my many self -imposed deadlines and determined that something in my life had to go. So, I figured, now is the time to cut ties with the one thing (or person) who I feel guilty about even having in my life in the first place.
“I wasn’t even nice about it when I ended it with Jake. I didn’t think a cordial goodbye would work. Fearing a long drawn out discussion and debate, and questions, I thought it would be so much easier and more effective just to pretend I was mad at him. That I thought all he wanted me for was sex, that he really couldn’t care less about me or my feelings. I know that was all bullshit, but I was a mean bitch.
“I said I never want ed to speak to him again, and I blocked him on everything. He sent me some text messages and tried to call me, but I never responded. Eventually he stopped trying to reach me. Now so much time has gone by, it’s like he’s just somebody that I used to know. I’m not sure if he even considers us to be friends. He probably hates me with a passion, and I can’t say that I would blame him.
“But over time I have come to realize how badly I fucked up. I realize how much Jake truly cared about me, and I love Jake like no one else ever. I was about to leave my husband and had hoped to reunite with Jake to tell him how I felt. I was going to ask if he was wanting to be with me. That was when the whole birthday party thing happened.
“Now Jake is gone, and I feel like my life is over. I want to find Jake and let him know how I feel. That’s why I am here. Let’s go get him!” Mack was awestruck, mouth wide open and completely speechless for what seemed like minutes. “Umm, I had no idea Jake was cheating on Amanda... with you ... wow!! I never would
have guessed that.”
Las Vegas, Nevada. Year 1 month 11 ATBI
Sin City, a place where dreams are made. Some are pleasant dreams; others are not nearly as delectable. Some are just downright disturbing nightmares.
At this juncture in what some have deemed the “Infection Armageddon,” most of the major metropolises along both coasts of this once great nation were infested with THEM. THEY were everywhere. Sometimes scattered, occasionally in clusters. Whe n they weren’t aggressively pursuing the humans, who dared even enter those areas, they were rooting around in dumpsters and dark alleys searching for scraps of sustenance.
Prior to the outset of this “Apocalypse of the Unliving,” the worst -case scenario one had to worry about in many of the larger cities was being harassed by a panhandler. Now that same person was risking their life by entering the same zone, with a good probability of being accosted by a pancreas pirate.
This was an accurate depiction of most of the metropolises in America. However, it was NOT by any means, an authentic characterization of Las Vegas. Being in the center of the nation, this was one of the last areas to be reached by the migration of the mutated. Vegas still stood unfathomed for the most part. This city was now, more than ever before, the mecca of the United States.
People from all over flocked to the city to gamble, party, take in shows, be entertained. And all that without the risk of becoming a TV dinner for the DEAD. The municipality did not remain unblemished on its own, however. Realizing that this city was nearly the last revenue-generating locale in the country, the United States government had decided to provide a vast number of resources to assist the State of Nevada and the city in keeping the province pure.
All the equipment and personnel that had previously been used to keep America’s southern border secure had now been redeployed. They had all been shifted to surround and protect the interurban limits of Las Vegas. These protectors of the people resembled the wagon forts of the 19th century American settlers. When faced with a potential attack by their enemies, they would “circle the wagons” by rapidly joining their wagons together into a circular shape and strategically keeping women and children safe in the center.
The modern twist on the “wagon forts” was that now the wagons were Humvees, and they were equipped with M4A1’s with Close Quarter Battle Receivers instead of push rod loading muskets. And these modernday settlers’ (members of what was once a group called Homeland Security) primary function was to keep the DEAD out and the tourists and their money safe within.
On the inside of the perimeter, usually posted up on or close to “The Strip,” was a “Containment Squad” featuring several men and women fully geared up in white hazmat suits and helmets. Their gun belts, worn over the top of their hazmat suits, secured their Government issued Sig 45’s.
This Vegas Containment Squad featured several team members on bicycles, along with a mobile incinerator. To prevent the incinerator from being so obviously visible, possibly causing the tourists to question the safety of the area, it was disguised as a normal looking, completely white, sanitation truck. This squad and vehicle allowed for the abrupt neutralization of any DEAD that may somehow get through the outer circle, with their quick disposal by cremation to follow.
At the far, less traveled end of the main strip, stood the Venetian. This was a twelve-story, two-hundredroom hotel/casino that originally opened in 1970 as the Royal Inn. It didn’t have the lights of the Bellagio or the allure and glam that some of the other high-end places had, but it possessed a feature that could be found at no other place in the world.
For, far below the hotel’s main structure, was a secret below ground five -thousand-seat arena. The atmosphere was dark, and there was a distinct animal-like scent hovering about. The seats within were not very lush or even comfortable. Alcohol and water were served here but nothing more.
This theater was not meant for musical performances or wild cat acts. It was equipped for and only offered one means of entertainment: underground cage fighting.
Saturday, February 3rd. It was Super Bowl weekend. The big game was here in town. For the last few years, every Super Bowl was played at Allegiant Stadium, home of the Raiders. Since the “Spread of the DEAD” caused many cities to become overrun by the unliving and forced humans to vacate, several NFL and other professional sports franchises left the United States for healthier markets. Resultantly, attendance was way down in the cities that still had a franchise. The leagues were barely hanging on by a thread to survive.
So, Vegas, now being clearly the safest city in America (maybe the ONLY safe city) was the obvious choice for a Super Bowl location. This championship match between the Quebec Titans and Saskatchewan Chargers was not exactly going to be a barnburner. The league would be lucky to fill half of the seats in this massive Raider stadium.
However, a few thousand wealthy gamblers from across the globe had still gathered in this city. They were not here to wager on everything championship football game related, from the coin toss to whether there would be a wardrobe malfunction at halftime.
These high rollers were in town for the“Fright Fights.” The leviathan former law enforcer awoke, unable to see anything other than the burlap sack tied over his head.
Jake could hear another’s heavy breathing close by. In a snap, the bag was removed from his face.
Hathaway looked about to assess his situation and learned that he had been hog-tied. His hands and feet were now bound together behind him with rope and duct tape.
He was inside a sterile glass-enc
losed cube, feeling much like a small creature inside a very large, covered terrarium. And then, there was Camacho. He looked larger than life, bigger than even Jake. As if sculpted from a mountain, he was huge and muscular, but now with long, flowing, black wavy hair that fell halfway down his back.
“Good morning, sunshine. I mean Captain Jake. Good to see you again! You must have dropped my name at the ticket window to get backstage! We have so much catching up to do. We go way back, don’t we, sir?”
“You always thought you were so much better than me, didn’t you? Back in the corps, you got promoted instead of me. You somehow stole Amanda from me. I did beat you in that boxing tournament we had on the base, even though it was only through a TKO. If the referees hadn’t stopped it when they did, I would have knocked your ass out cold!
“Do you remember those ‘immunization shots’ and ‘vitamins’ you and your staff recommended we all receive regularly back in the corps? Your so called ‘Power Rations’. I know you commander types called it the ‘Z Serum’. All part of your idea, your secret project. The Zeus Project, isn’t that what you called it?
“You all gave us grunts the serum without full disclosure a s to what it really was meant to do. It was supposed to turn us into ‘Invulnerable Warriors.’ Maybe you weren’t the one who createdthe formula, but the whole concept was your baby.”
Jake was still trying to clear out the cobwebs in his head, come to his senses and figure out exactly what kind of predicament he was in. “Where the fuck am I?” “You’re in Vegas, about eighty feet below the Venetian Hotel. Not only that, you are the star of tonight’s show! I will explain that here in a minute. But first, why don’t you start by admitting that you’re a worthless piece of shit for ruining our lives with that Zeus Juice, as you called it.”
Hathaway was taken aback by Camacho’s comments. “You all volunteered for the experimentation. No one else was supposed to be exposed. And I had no idea what that stuff really was or what the generals had told the scientists they wanted it to do. I truly thought our intent was to make Marines stronger and better able to endure pain and lack of sleep.”
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