Seven Days To Brooklyn: A Sara Robinson Adventure (25 page)

16

WALKING ALL DAY and most of the next, Sara and Mac travel the sixty-three miles across Highway 50 and into Reno in hopes of finding transportation to their final destination.
 

4:45 p.m.

OUTSIDE RENO
 

“I’m pretty damn tired, Sara. Can we stop here?” Mac pleads.
 

“No, I’m not staying out here another night; I want a bath, food, and entertainment.” Sara is at her limit; after the previous days, weeks, and months of unlimited traveling, killing, and walking, she is in need of relaxation. Walking further into the downtown casino area across a small bridge over the Truckee river, Mac and Sara are equally shocked to see the lights of the casino marquees flashing in front of them. Still carrying her backpack and the .338 rifle across her back, Sara pulls the pistol out of her belt to get ready for action. Stopping in front of a casino, a man with an AK-47 machine gun stands vigilant outside.
 

“State your business.”
 

“We want a room, and food if you got it,” Mac yells back.
 

The man studies Sara and Mac, curious of the pair that has materialized out of the desert unscathed by predators, infected soldiers, and the relentless blazing sun overhead.
 

“You can come in, but it’s going to cost you. Got anything you want to trade? Maybe that pistol the young lady is toting.”
 

Sara tightens her grip on the pistol. “Pistol is off limits; we don’t have much else.”
 

Mac reaches into his pants pocket, pulling out a pocket watch that was his grandfather’s. “Here, this watch has been in my family for decades, but it is yours if we can come in.”
 

Mac throws the watch over to the man. Rolling the watch over in his hands, the man pushes a button on top, opening up the watch. Made of twenty-four karat gold, inlaid with diamonds for each hour, the watch was and still is extremely valuable, but even more valuable in the wasteland where timepieces are scarce.
 

“Okay, you can go in.”
 

Stepping into the casino, Mac and Sara immediately smell the sweet odor of meat being cooked, followed by the sight of multitudes of citizens gambling at card tables, pushing coins in the one armed bandit slot machines, and a full bar serving the finest alcohol-based beverages. It is almost as if the events Mac and Sara have experienced were just a dream, except for the fact that an underage youth would not have been allowed to enter the casino. Walking over to the bar, Mac pulls out a chair for Sara, and she quickly jumps up onto it, placing her arms across the large, wooden bar.
 

“Bartender,” she yells down the long expanse to a frail-looking gentleman who is still wearing slacks, a bow tie, a collared shirt, and a vest. The bartender stops his conversation with one of the patrons at the end of the bar and walks over to Sara.
 

“What will it be, young lady?” Sara studies the liquor sitting behind the bar, not seeing anything that piques her interest.
 

“Beer. Got any beer?” Her right eyebrow rises up slightly as a grin comes across her face.
 

“A little young, don’t you think?” The bartender is a bit curious as to why her father next to her would allow a juvenile to drink an alcoholic beverage.
 

“Hey, we’ve been blown up, kidnapped, attacked by zombies, and now you are giving me a rash of crap about wanting something to drink? What the hell am I waiting for? The next apocalypse? I want a beer, and I want it now.”

 
Sara places the gun on the counter as she finishes her tirade. The bartender throws his hands up chest high, palms open.

“Okay, okay, don’t have to get worked up over nothing, and you, sir, what may I presume you will be having?”
 

 
“Whiskey, neat!”
 

Mac can already taste the beverage as he watches the bartender tip the bottle into a glass before adding a touch of water. Bending over and disappearing behind the bar, the bartender comes back up with a bottle of beer.
 

“Here you go, young lady, that’ll be . . . well, we don’t take cash. What do you have?”
 

Sara reaches up into her coat to pull out the large bowie knife she has strapped around her shoulder. Pulling the shoelace apart, Sara tosses the knife onto the bar in front of the bartender. “How’s that?”
 

Holding the knife in his hand, the bartender grins. “Oh, hell yes; this is really a fine weapon.” He turns the blade over and over a few times before pushing it back into the leather sheath.
 

Sara presses the bartender for one more thing. “Sir, that will buy a meal and a room.”
 

“Fine, we can do that, but you are out in the morning, unless you got something else to trade.”
 

Sipping on his whiskey, Mac smiles at Sara as she downs the bottle of beer in just minutes. Jumping off the bar stool, Sara leaves Mac alone and proceeds to the back of the casino where she finds an empty chair at a card table. A dealer and three patrons are in the middle of a game of five-card draw. Sitting down at the table, Sara watches the three men as they finish out the game. On the table, each man has thrown in an item of value. Fishhooks, a pocketknife, and a pair of reading glasses goes to the winner that is seated on Sara’s right side.

 
“We have another player,” the dealer says, reshuffling the cards for the next hand.
 

“Place your bets, gentlemen and lady.”
 

Reaching into her coat pocket, Sara pulls out the hand-cranked flashlight and throws it into the middle of the table. The three opposing players throw an item each next to the flashlight. An old digital watch, a pocketknife, and crude smoking pipe. Sara picks up her cards and stares at them intently.
 

“Okay, gentlemen, how many will it be? I’m sorry, and young lady.”
 

The man just to the left of the dealer takes two, followed by two to the next man and three to the man just to Sara’s right side.
 

“Well, young lady, we don’t have all night. How many?”
 

“I’ll take one.”

 
Sara throws down her card and picks up the card dealt to her. Looking at her hand again, Sara studies it but does not come up with anything worthy of a win.
 

“Throw them down; what do you have?”
 

The dealer calls for the end of the hand, then watches as each man fans out his cards face up. The winning hand goes to the man just to the left of the dealer. Somehow, he has pulled three sevens, to beat a pair of fives next to him and nothing worth mentioning in Sara’s hand. Pulling the items into his chest, the winner studies the flashlight, cranking the handle to see if the light works. It is a modified version of the card game and the next round comes up quickly.

“It works, or I wouldn’t have thrown it in.” Sara says to the man with the flashlight in his hands.

Shuffling the cards again, the dealer asks for everyone to ante up. Two of the guys bail out and leave the table. Looking across the table at Sara, the grungy man who has just beaten her, smiles. The toothy grin tells her he is trash, but she is sure she can win one of the rounds.
 

“Okay, I’ll play, but not for this crap.”
 

Sara pulls the pistol out of her waistband and throws it into the middle of the table. “My gun for? What do you have that is equal or better value?”
 

The man looks over at the gun for a few seconds and then pulls a set of keys out of his pocket. “Here, I will bet you my car against that fine weapon.”
 

Sara looks at the keys, studying the emblem on the key chain. The emblem has a horse that is running, stamped into the metal.
 

“How do I know you got a car?” Her eyes narrow as she glares at him in defiance. Sara is unaware that the guard that let them inside is standing behind them.
 

“He’ll make do on his bet, or there will be hell to pay. Can’t bet what you don’t have.” The guard folds his arms across his chest to watch the game.

 
“Okay, bets are in.” The dealer closes the betting, and the two adversaries study the cards he has just dealt. Sara looks at the five cards over and over before placing two of them on the table. The grimy man across the table starts smiling as he throws one card down.
 

“I’ll take one,” he says as he snatches up the card dealt him. Sara doesn’t say anything as she grabs the cards thrown across the table to her. Picking up the cards, she keeps the look on her face stone cold. Fanning the cards out, she produces a straight flush, the five, six, seven, eight, and nine card of the same suit staring back at her. Looking over at her opponent, she keeps a tight grip on her lips to keep from grinning.
 

“Okay, let’s see them.”
 

Sara watches as the man throws his cards on the table, followed by him reaching over to grab the gun and keys.
 

“Four aces, king high, young lady . . . you lose.”
 

Sara tosses the cards on the table showing her hand.
 

“Not so fast; I’ll be taking my gun and your car with me. Straight flush beats four of a kind.”
 

The gambler looks up at her shocked, followed by a look of anger coming across his face. Reaching for the gun, Sara grabs it first, pointing it straight at him.
 

“I said, I’ll have those keys and your car. One more thing, where is this car?”
 

The man stands up straight. He knows he’s been beat fair and square, but it still doesn’t sit well with him that a twelve-year-old has beaten him. “It’s out back in the parking garage, level two, red 2009 Ford Mustang,” he says.

“It was a pleasure, sir, but I would suggest you study up on your card playing before you mess with the best.”
 

Sara is still pointing the gun at the man as he walks away. With keys and gun in hand, Sara leaves the interior of the casino, stepping into the large concrete parking garage. The first floor of the garage is sparsely populated with a few vehicles parked here and there. Looking over to her right side, she sees the staircase up to floor number two. Climbing the staircase up to the next level, Sara pushes hard on the exit door, opening it onto the level. The red Mustang fills her vision as she walks out into the garage. Looking down at the keys in her hand, Sara pushes the unlock button on the remote. The lights on the car flash twice, and the audible clicking of the door locks tells her that the car has a good battery and will start if needed. Locking the car, Sara exits the garage, walking down to the casino to find her friend.
 

Mac is still at the bar, sipping on his second whiskey when Sara finds him.
 

“Well, you going to sit here all night and get drunk? Or do something productive like asking where we can get something to eat?”
 

Sara gives Mac a few seconds to answer but is aware that he has attracted the attention of a few ladies at the other end of the bar. Grabbing him by the shoulder, she gives him a shake to get her point across.
 

“Come on. Let’s get out of here.” Mac looks over at her with a disgusted look on his face. “What’s the hurry? Good whiskey, some fine looking ladies I would like to get to know better, and the bartender told me they were laying out a barbecued pig on the buffet table.”
 

Sara sighs in disgust. “These people aren’t the kind of people you want to associate with. I’m relatively sure they don’t plan on letting us leave this place.” Sara is trying to get her point across as she keeps her voice down. “Let’s go.” Sara drags Mac off the stool, pulling him to the exit door.
 

“Okay, okay, but how we going to get out of here?” Mac shakes off Sara’s grip as he follows her out into the garage and up to level two.
 

“That will get us out of here,” she says, pointing at the Mustang she just won. Mac walks over to the car and runs his hand along the fender, over the top of the roof, and onto the trunk lid.

“How’d you get it?”
 

“Won it fair and square in a game of cards.”

“Really? What happens when the man who lost it wants it back?”
 

“That’s why we will put as much distance between this place and him as we can while we still have a chance.”
 

Sara unlocks the car and sits down in the driver’s seat. Placing the key in the ignition, she starts the car. Shutting her door, she gives it a few pumps on the throttle, revving the engine up. The exhaust roars, letting out a
braap
as it settles into a low rumble. Looking out the window at Mac, who is still studying the car’s fine lines through an alcohol-induced haze, Sara sees the door to the garage swing open. The grungy man who lost the car steps out wielding a 12-gauge shotgun, followed by two equally dirty and menacing gentlemen who are also carrying weapons. Sara taps on the window and then points at the guys behind Mac. Turning around, Mac is not surprised to see the angry mob running to him. Grabbing the door handle, Mac tries to get in the driver’s door, but he is too slow. Sara has pushed the latch down just before he can open it.
 

“Other side, you’re riding shotgun.”
 

Running to the passenger door, Mac throws it open and hops in. Sara pulls the shift lever into drive and floors the car as the mob just barely reaches out to try to open her door. The card player who lost the car jumps on top of the roof, leaving his friends behind him. Sliding up and over the front windshield, he taps the shotgun on the glass, pointing it at Sara’s face. Startled, she slams on the brakes sending the man rolling off the roof and onto the pavement of the garage in front of the car. He tumbles a few times over and over before standing back up, leveling the shotgun to the front of the car. Not wanting to damage his car, he holds off and doesn’t shoot, hoping the young lady will give up. Pushing the throttle back to the floor, the car tires squeal as they break traction with the pavement before hurling them to the grungy card player. Seconds later, with a loud thump, Sara runs him down, sending him hurtling through the air and over the roof of the car. Turning around the next bend, Sara steers the car through the garage and out onto the street in front of the casino. “Never really liked this town anyway.”