by J.G. Martin
Chapter 11
July 12, 2034
Las Vegas Strip, NV
The slavers were holed up in a warehouse on the northeast edge of the strip. There had once been a casino there but it had long ago gone under. The building had been stripped for any valuables including the building materials. It was now more or less an empty lot with the remnants of the superstructure sticking up like bony fingers from the ground. The warehouses had stayed in use though. The area was low rent and used for storage or quasi-legal enterprises. It was quiet and everyone minded their own business.
So no one took any notice of the garbage truck as it drove across the empty casino lot towards the warehouses. It was late for a trash pickup, but the trashmen were always busy so it wasn’t that unusual. People only noticed it when it suddenly accelerated and crashed head on into one of the warehouses. The heavy vehicle smashed through the cinder block wall and into the open space inside.
The warehouse was empty inside except for a mob of gunmen and a few vehicles. Two technicals, both pickups, a limo and four slaver wagons full of slaves were parked near the warehouse doors. The slaver boss and his two bodyguards stood near the limo and turned in stunned amazement as the truck came through the wall. Five men and a woman manned the guns on the technicals or stood guarding the wagons. They were all dressed in the tan outfits the slavers had started to use as uniforms.
The four slavers not manning the guns on the technicals carried M-16s or AK-74s. Duncan and his goons had procured IMI TAR-21s from somewhere and they now wore body armor in place of their suit jackets. The TAR-21s were nasty little bullpup assault rifles used by the Israeli Defense Forces and ideal for close quarters battle. All of the slavers opened fire with their weapons on full automatic at the slow rolling truck as soon as they regained their wits.
They were joined by more men garbed in a motley assortment of clothes who were posted on catwalks overlooking the warehouse floor. There were three bikers armed with submachine guns, a merk with an M-249 SAW, and several local gun thugs with pistols. It was an impressive little army for Vegas, especially considering everything they were wielding was illegal and almost impossible to smuggle in.
The volume of fire and the jingle of brass hitting the floor was deafening in the enclosed space of the warehouse. Bullets ricocheted off the metal body of the garbage truck sending sparks flying. The truck’s windows disintegrated in seconds from the incredible hail of gunfire. The tires were blown out from dozens of rounds striking them, and the truck slowly rolled to a halt.
Duncan waved for everyone to stop firing and the warehouse fell silent. The only sounds were heavy breathing and clips hitting the floor as everyone reloaded. He waved the four slaver guards forward and they approached the truck with him and his bodyguards trailing. They cleared the cab of the truck and found it empty; a concrete block had been wedged over the accelerator. He gestured to the guards to cover the back of the truck and then had one of his bodyguards climb into the cab.
He waited until they were behind the truck and had it covered before he gestured to his bodyguard to turn the compactor on. His idea was to either crush whoever was inside or force them to come out and be gunned down. Unfortunately for him, it didn’t exactly work that way. The second the switch was flipped for the compactor, the truck exploded.
A small explosion blew the cab apart and vaporized the bodyguard inside. Claymore mines on the back of the truck belched flame and a cloud of steel ball bearings propelled at high velocity by the explosion. The bearings shredded the four slaver guards as they expanded outward. Duncan and the remaining bodyguard were knocked down by the concussion from the blasts. As they stood back up bodies started to fall from the sky. Distracted by the truck and the blasts, none of the hired guns on the catwalks had noticed a shadowy figure enter from a skylight.
Minerva had timed her first shots as the explosions went off completely masking the already suppressed fire of her UMP 40. The gunmen on the opposite catwalk were her initial targets. She cut down the merk first since he was the biggest threat. He had the biggest gun and was the most capable of using it. She sent two bursts into his head since he almost certainly had on body armor. The bikers were next. She cut them down mercilessly, emptying the clip into them.
They jerked around like marionettes as the stream of bullets struck them and then they tumbled over the railing of the catwalk. They struck the ground with a bloody splat. She could see they were members of the Dirty Few MC, which was hardly a surprise. Apparently they hadn’t learned their lesson the first time. She shook her head at their ignorance and stupidity.
The gun thugs on the same catwalk as she was finally noticed her and turned to fire on her, but it was too late. She had reloaded and was firing straight down the catwalk as they turned. She emptied another full clip into them. They fell one after the other like dominoes as the rounds tore through them. Their bodies lay in a jumble blocking the catwalk.
The two slavers on the machine guns mounted on the technicals finally shook off their shock and opened fire on her. Their machine guns roared to life and sent a hail of gunfire her way. Bullets sparked off the catwalk and it shook under the impacts of the heavier rounds. They whizzed by all around her and she involuntarily flinched. It was only a matter of time before the catwalk collapsed or a round or two made it through and hit her. Running towards the other end of the building from the technicals, Minerva leapt out and grabbed hold of a chain suspended from a pulley.
She slid down the chain and scrambled for cover behind the disabled garbage truck. The machine guns ran dry and she could hear them reloading. She could also hear the slaver boss screaming at them to kill her. Minerva smiled and pulled out Jonas’ last gift to her, a LAW anti-tank rocket. Popping out around the side of the truck she took careful aim and fired.
The rocket lanced across the warehouse leaving a trail of flame and struck one of the technicals, blowing it apart in a spectacular explosion. Parts of the truck scattered all over the warehouse making a metallic rain like noise. The other slaver decided enough was enough and bailed out. He ran for the door, but was gunned down from behind by a furious Duncan.
“Very impressive girl!” He shouted angrily. “But I’m going to take care of you myself.”
“Come and get me!” She called back.
Crouching down and looking under the truck she could see their legs as Duncan and the bodyguard approached the truck. They split up, one heading to each side in a classic pincer maneuver. As they circled she fired under the truck body at the legs of the bodyguard and he collapsed as his legs were cut out from under him. He made a pitiful wailing sound as he fell, which she silenced with a quick burst into his prone form.
The slaver boss quickly caught on and stopped next to one of the giant tires. Even deflated it would provide cover from her fire. She waited to see what he would do next. He did have combat experience and was in body armor so he had an advantage. But she had singlehandedly wiped out his entire crew and that had to make him nervous. Finally he spoke.
“If you are hoping to wait me out, don’t bother. I’m not the wounded one.” He called.
Minerva glanced down and noticed she had left a trail of blood from the chain to the truck. Blood was running down her leg and pooling at her feet. She had been hit and too hyped up on adrenaline to notice it. Checking herself she found a bullet had passed through her left side and another one had passed through her left arm. The machine guns had found their mark as she had swirled down the chain.
“It’s only a flesh wound.” She called back trying to sound confident.
“Why are you doing this?” He asked. “Is this personal? Did I grab one of your relatives? I’ll gladly let them go to end this.”
“It’s not personal.” She told him. “I just don’t want your kind in Vegas.”
“Gambrone told me you were a stubborn one. I thought he was exaggerating about your combat prowess, but now I see that he wasn’t. I thought the others were lying when they said one w
oman had done all the attacks, but I was wrong. You are exceptional, and pretty too. Come work for me. I pay well, and there are ‘fringe’ benefits.” He offered.
“Ugh, I think I just threw up a little in my mouth.” She mocked.
“Fine. Have it your way. You want me, come out and face me hand to hand if you’re so tough. Look, I’m tossing away my weapons.”
She heard him place the assault rifle on the ground and then heard two more clangs as he dropped another couple of weapons. A heavy thud followed those clangs. She peeked out and saw a collapsible baton and large folding knife lying next to the TAR-21. He had removed his body armor as well and it lay on the ground next to his weapons. He spread out his arms and slowly rotated around to show he didn’t have any more.
“Why don’t I just gun you down instead?” She asked.
“Because that would be cold blooded murder and would make you no better than me.” He retorted calmly. “What would Jonas say about that? I’m willing to turn myself in to the authorities, but you can take a shot at me first if you want.”
She swore. The bastard had her pegged. She could end this, but at what cost. How would she ever look Jonas in the eye again if she killed in cold blood. The problem was that Gambrone would probably walk if the authorities came. Money talked in Vegas and she wasn’t sure that Strip Security was above taking a bribe. Or they might ignore the whole thing to avoid bad publicity.
The only concern was that she was wounded. It wasn’t too bad, but she was losing blood and it was making her weak. Duncan knew her skills and he wouldn’t be challenging her unless he legitimately thought he could beat her. That meant he had some skills too. Or maybe he was just bluffing. It didn’t matter, she came here to do a job and she needed to finish that.
He smiled broadly as Minerva came out from behind the truck. She gestured for him to move a good distance away from his weapons so he wouldn’t simply pick them back up. Once he had moved away she laid down her weapons. She moved to face him and assumed a combat stance with her hands up in front of her.
Duncan quickly ripped off his shirt exposing a tanned body in excellent shape. She could see scars crisscrossing his body and multiple bullet wounds that had healed. There was no doubt he had seen some hard action. This was not going to be an easy fight. He also assumed a combat stance, and smiled at her.
“Checking me out girlie? Like what you see?” He taunted her.
“You’re not my type.” She informed him.
“Oh, you like the girls then? I can change that if you want?”
“No, I like men; just not stupid ones.” She retorted.
“I’m going to enjoy breaking you girl.” He snarled.
“You haven’t been successful so far.” She replied gesturing to the carnage all around them.
“They were amateurs. I’ve been killing people since before you were born. I can rebuild this, but you won’t be coming back from what I’m going to do to you.” He sneered.
“Enough talk!” She snapped and attacked.
Minerva needed to finish the fight quickly before she became too weak from blood loss. So she launched herself at him and snapped a flying kick at his head. He simply sidestepped the attack and pivoted to face her. She landed and nimbly snapped a roundhouse kick at him as he moved in to strike. He was surprised at her agility and reaction time but still managed to dodge backwards and block the kick with his arm.
She pressed the attack launching kick after kick at him, left foot after right. He gave ground and blocked the frenzied blows. He had lost his smile and now had a look of grim concentration on his face. She couldn’t punch him since she didn’t think she would do enough damage to hurt him, and it got her within his longer reach and stronger grip. Minerva maintained the barrage of kicks until he caught her right leg under his left arm and trapped it against his body. Pulling her close he snaked his right hand out and grabbed her by the throat.
As he squeezed, she struggled to break free but his grip was too tight. So she jumped up into the air and tried to kick him in the face with her free leg. He pulled his face back to avoid the strike, but she transitioned into a flying armbar attempt on his right arm. He released his grip and flung her down to avoid the submission attempt. She landed hard but managed to roll to her feet.
“You can’t keep this up much longer.” He taunted as they faced each other. “You look to be getting a few pints low.”
They stood a few feet apart. Both were breathing hard from the exertion but he seemed less winded. Minerva could feel the blood he was referring to, dripping down her leg and onto the floor. She was definitely growing weaker. The increased exertion was making her heart pump faster and her blood loss was accelerating. He was right that she couldn’t last much longer. He sensed the weakness and moved forward confidently. She needed to do something drastic or desperate to end this. Cupping her hand she gathered some of the dripping blood.
As he advanced on her with the smile planted firmly back on his face, she flicked the blood at his face hoping to distract him. She followed up with a front kick to his groin. He didn’t even flinch as the blood splattered on his face and he caught her by the ankle as the kick came in. He smiled broadly and arrogantly as he stared her down. Then he pivoted and swung her by the leg. With his greater size and strength he was able to launch her into the air.
She flew across the warehouse and crashed off of the side of the garbage truck. Minerva blacked out for a few seconds and when she came to, she found herself on the ground in a pool of her own blood. The slaver boss stood over her triumphantly smiling down at her. He placed the heel of his boot on her throat and began to press down. She put both hands under his boot and tried unsuccessfully to alleviate the pressure.
Her weak attempts to break free or hurt him enough to make him stop failed miserably and she began to lose consciousness. She grasped frantically at his ankle and tried to find any leverage or nerve that she could strike. He ignored all her attempts and continued to slowly push down. He laughed cruelly as he slowly crushed her throat. He was enjoying the moment.
“Say goodnight, princess.” He gloated.
Just before she took her last few breaths she found her salvation. In all the excitement he had probably forgotten about it. The slaver boss was so focused on finishing her he had forgotten what a treacherous bastard he was. It was almost too good to be true but she grasped that final straw and took her opportunity.
“You forgot something Duncan.” She gasped.
“What’s that sweetheart?” He asked looking down victoriously.
“You forgot about your own backup plan.” She wheezed as she pointed the small pistol up at him.
The look of panicked horror that crossed his face as he realized she had his backup pistol was priceless. He had forgotten about the small pistol firing 9mm short rounds that he carried in an ankle holster on his right ankle. On the same leg that was slowly crushing Minerva’s throat. When he had ditched the other weapons he had kept that pistol just in case she didn’t go along with his plan. How ironic, he was going to be thwarted by his own duplicity.
She fired upward at him as he tried desperately to back away. The first few rounds struck his chest and she kept firing. They were smaller rounds and might not kill him unless she struck something vital. The next couple of rounds struck his face as he backpedalled and she could see the life go out of his eyes before he collapsed backwards to the ground.
The gun went empty and clicked a few times on an empty chamber before she stopped firing. Now completely out of strength, her arm fell to the ground and the pistol bounced free. Even though she had killed the slaver boss, she had lost too much blood and she would probably bleed to death on the cold floor of the warehouse.
As she closed her eyes she heard a loud crash and multiple men yelling. All she could make out was that they were repeatedly yelling “Clear!”. She opened her eyes and from her upside down vantage point, she could see Strip Security storming the building. They must have been alerted t
o the gunfight and showed up to check it out. Seeing the hole in the wall they had stormed in.
The men cleared a path so that an officer could enter the building. He scanned the carnage and the last thing Minerva heard before everything went black was, “Holy Sh….”
Epilogue
October 21, 2034
Strip Security HQ Las Vegas Strip, NV
Maxim Korskov, Head of Strip Security, stared across his desk with an angry glare at Minerva and Jonas. He wasn’t a large man, but he exuded power and authority. An ex-merk in his fifties, he was considered a very capable and reliable leader. He had a reputation as a hard man but he kept the Strip as close to the straight and narrow as possible. Since he had taken over they hadn’t faced any raider attacks or had any major incidents in the Strip. Until three months ago.
The gun battle in the warehouse had drawn attention, but the discovery and release of twenty plus slaves had caused an even bigger stir. While the casinos might turn a blind eye to the practice; the rest of the residents, made up of workers and their families, were very leery of being put in that position. They didn’t want the casinos to turn them into slaves, or lose their jobs to slaves, so they were very vocal when roused.
Korskov was angry because the revelations of illegal weapons and slaves inside the Strip made him look bad. He had stewed for the three months it had taken Minerva to recover and he had made numerous attempts to interrogate her in the meantime. Jonas had deflected him every time, until now. They had no more excuses and it was time to pay the piper.
“What the hell were you thinking, letting her go rogue in the Strip?” He demanded angrily of Jonas.
“Easy, Maxim.” Jonas replied calmly. “She was tracking a thief from the casino and stumbled onto the slavers. Knowing it was illegal she had a duty to check it out.”
“Come on?” The security head exploded. “Do you expect me to accept that ridiculous story?”
“There isn’t anyone to contradict that story is there?” Jonas asked quietly. “And I doubt you want to explain why it took so long for your men to get to the scene of a violent, and loud, gun battle? Or how they got heavy weapons into the Strip?”
The two men stared at each other for a few minutes of tense silence. Korskov did have the authority to detain both of them and press charges. His word was law in the Strip, and outside the casinos he could pretty much do what he wanted. The owner of the Maximus could complain, but if Korskov decided to lock them up; there wasn’t much he could do about it.
“There is still the matter of the bill to discuss. “ Korskov said finally.
“The bill?” Minerva asked in confusion.
“The cleanup of the mess you made was two hundred thousand chips, and your hospital bill was almost half a million chips. Do you have that kind of money?” He asked her pointedly.
“The casino is good for it.” Jonas interrupted. “You can garnish her wages.”
Korskov smiled at him. “The bill is due now. And you know the law on paying your bills in Vegas.”
Slavery might be illegal, but debt bondage was a part of the fabric of the Strip. If you owed money and couldn’t pay, you had to work it off. Oftentimes in meant working a second job at the business you owed so you didn’t lose your real job. But that much money meant she would be working forever.
“I do have another option, if you would like to hear it?” The security head offered.
“Fine…Let’s hear it.” Minerva sighed.
“You do have some serious skills, as evidenced by your escapades in the warehouse and with those bikers. Oh yeah, I know about that.” Korskov informed them. “But you seem to need better supervision.”
That was said pointedly as he glared at Jonas. Jonas simply gave him a small smirk to show he wasn’t intimidated. There was a pause as the two men had another brief staring contest.
“So, if you come on board Strip Security and work directly for me; your debt will be wiped clean. What do you say?” Korskov asked as he turned his stare to her.
“I don’t have much choice.” Minerva said slowly. “I guess I’m working for you now.”
Inwardly she smiled, even though her outward expression was stone-faced. She had done it. She was in…
A Note From the Author
If you enjoyed this Novella and you want to experience more of the World After and how it came to be; check out the full length novels Wasteland Rules: Kill or be Killed (#1) and Wasteland Rules: Born to Fight (#2). Both are available on Amazon. Also look for more background materials and my blog at www.wastelandrules.com.