Storm (24 page)

“Let’s walk,” she said. “Newbies always get a little welcome speech. We’ll find your friends in a minute.”
We climbed up to street level from the lagoon, where I got a full view of this section of Las Vegas.
“It’s called the Strip,” Charlotte explained. “It’s where most of the big hotels and casinos are all jammed together in a four-mile stretch. Las Vegas is a big city, but this is where most of the action is.” She paused and added, “Or was.”
We walked out onto the street and took a left, heading toward the Eiffel Tower. As dead as the city was, it wasn’t abandoned. Far from it. People wandered out from the buildings to greet the new day. Some stretched. Some jogged. Others just walked quickly, as if working to stay in shape. There were all sorts of people representing most every nationality or ethnic group. All were in civilian clothes. This was not an army. Most of them were older than me, no big surprise, but I didn’t see any young kids at all. I guess that made sense. Anybody looking to join up with a band of rebels
wouldn’t bring their toddler along for the ride.
“Why here?” I asked.
“It’s the perfect place to hide out,” Charlotte replied. “There’s a labyrinth of tunnels that run up and down the strip and connect all the properties. What better place to stay underground and safe
from them damned black planes? You know that drill.” I did.
“It’s like a rat warren down there. If those planes ever come looking for us, we can disappear into the depths like cockroaches.” “Have they ever come looking?” I asked.
“Nope, but you’ll hear more about that at the briefing. We haven’t had a single incident since we started gathering here.” “Is anybody in charge?” I asked.
“There’re a couple of guys. Good guys. We call ’em the Chiefs. A few have military background, so they’ve kept it all organized. Check this out.”
She pointed down a side street, where I saw a group of people jogging in perfect formation, four abreast, with a guy in green camo pants leading the way.
“It’s like they’re training,” I said.
“They are,” was her reply.
“How many survivors are here?” I asked.
“Last count was six hundred and fifty-two, including you.” “Exactly?” I asked.
She shrugged and said, “Like I said, we keep it organized.
Everybody counts here. We’re not playing this loose. There’s too much at stake.”
“So what’s the plan?” I asked. “It’s not like six hundred civilians can take on the Retros.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, pardner,” she scolded. “You just got here.”
We passed more massive buildings that I guess were hotels. I saw one that looked like the Roman Colosseum surrounded by statues right out of ancient Italy. The Eiffel Tower was real, or at least as real as an almost-full-sized replica built in America could be. A gigantic Statue of Liberty stood guard in front of a replica of the New York City skyline . . . that had a roller coaster snaking through it. There was a medieval castle and an Egyptian pyramid guarded by a sphinx.
Everything along the Strip was monster-sized: a Coke bottle, a guitar, a golden lion that loomed over the boulevard. I didn’t understand what huge replicas of actual places and things had to do with gambling, but I’d never been to Las Vegas, so what did I know? Charlotte led me into a fancy hotel that didn’t look like it was trying to copy any specific country or city. We entered into a lobby that had a ceiling covered with thousands of paper flowers of every size, color, and shape you could imagine. It was actually kind of pretty, and less cheesy than anything I’d seen so far.
“This is where we brief the newbies,” Charlotte said. “It’s a pleasant spot. Puts people at ease.”
“You mean as opposed to a giant head that puts them on edge?” “Exactly,” she said with a sly smile.
I liked Charlotte.
She led me through glass doors into a courtyard that looked like something out of a fairy tale. The ceiling was glass with a fancy steel frame that gave the place the feel of a greenhouse. The first
thing I saw was a miniature carousel with four brightly painted horses. There was also a twenty-foot-high blue-and-white-striped lighthouse with a small sailboat circling its base. Up toward the
high ceiling were miniature hot air balloons that were frozen in flight. Across from them was a floating flock of red and yellow umbrellas that would never stop rain or fall to the ground. The floor was covered with flower-filled gardens of black-eyed Susans, white daffodils, and pink impatiens. I know my flowers.
It was clear that the survivors who had taken over Las Vegas were keeping these gardens in good shape. The entire space was playful and inviting, like somebody’s idea of a storybook park. I didn’t understand what this had to do with gambling any more than the giant guitar and fake Statue of Liberty, but at least it was a pleasant enough place to hang out.
Others had arrived. There were maybe ten people who were checking out the indoor park, looking as dazed as I felt. “Tucker!” came a familiar voice.
Olivia ran through the garden toward me with her arms open wide. When she hit me, she wrapped her arms around me and pressed her body square against mine. This time I didn’t mind. I
was happy and relieved to see her.
“They said everyone would be here, but I didn’t believe them,” she said, holding back tears.
“You okay?” I asked.
“A little dizzy, but what else is new?”
I laughed and hugged her closer. Olivia may have been dis traught, but she still had her sense of humor.
“Easy there, Tucker,” Kent said. “Don’t get too used to that.” I almost didn’t believe it was him. Not because he was there, but because he called me Tucker. Good for him for remembering
that I was ready to punch his lights out if he called me “Rook” again.
“Where’s Tori?” I asked.
“Right here,” Tori replied as she entered through the door opposite the one I had come through. “Still trying to process.” I wanted to hug her out of pure relief, but I was too busy being hugged by Olivia.
“Is this place wild or what?” Kent asked. “It’s like a theme park for vampires. They all hang out in this underground maze and only come out at night.”
“I always wanted to see Vegas,” Olivia said. “It sounded so exciting. Now it’s just creepy.”
“What about Jon?” Tori asked.
We looked around, but there was no Jon to be seen. “Charlotte?” I called. “Our friend Jon Purcell isn’t here.” “He will be,” she assured me. “They’ve probably got him coming in with the next group. Don’t worry, he’s fine. I did his interrogation myself.”
“Attention, everybody!” came a booming voice. A tall, broad-shouldered guy entered the garden quickly. He had a tight crew cut and an open, friendly face.
“Gather ’round,” he called out. “Sorry, we don’t have chairs. You can sit or stand. Whatever works.” We exchanged looks, not sure of what to do.
“Go ahead,” Charlotte cajoled. “He won’t bite.”
We walked toward the man, as did the rest of the people. A few men had arrived with the big guy and stood next to him. I flashed back to Chris Campbell and his cowboys, but this group didn’t come across as intimidating, like those Retro scum. Body language is everything, and these guys were relaxed and smiling. They must have been the survivors who brought the others here, as Charlotte did with me. Charlotte, on the other hand, stayed with us. We all stood facing the man in the dead center of the garden. “My name is Matt,” the guy announced. “In real life, I’m an EMT who works the Baywatch boat off of Catalina Island near Los Angeles. In this life, I’m one of the Chiefs who organized this little party.”
Matt seemed more like a camp counselor than a counterrevolutionary.
“I know you’ve all got a million questions, and I’ll do my best to answer them. But first let me say this: If you’re here right now, it means you heard our broadcast and you feel the same as we do.
We’ve all lost our lives. We’ve lost friends and loved ones. We’re victims of a war that we never saw coming. We weren’t given a choice or a warning. What happened to us was an unprovoked,
unexplained invasion by an unknown enemy. Make no mistake, our situation is grim, to say the least. But if you’re here, it means you don’t want to roll over and accept what happened. You want to fight back. We do too. It’s not just about getting by or survival; it’s about taking our lives back. If you agree with all that, welcome. We’re glad you’re here. If you don’t, then you should be moving
on.”
He fell silent, giving us each a look and the opportunity to back out. After what Charlotte told me about their security, I didn’t think anybody who said, “You know, on second thought, I’d rather
not” would live to see another day. Nobody moved.
“Awesome,” Matt said with a satisfied smile. “I didn’t think so.” I had a feeling I was going to like Matt too.
“Let me start by telling you what we know. Maybe some of you can add to this, and you’ll get the chance. We believe that the United States Air Force was behind the attack. As to why, and who is calling the shots, we don’t know. But there’s one thing that gives us hope. From what we’ve seen and what we’ve put together from the experiences of the survivors who have joined us, the Air Force seems to be heavy on firepower, but light on manpower. Those black drones don’t have pilots. They’re being controlled from a distance. There are plenty of them, let’s not forget that. They are deadly efficient. We’ve all seen what they can do. What we haven’t seen are people. Cities have not been occupied by any kind of invasion force . . . at least none that we’ve heard of. Nobody has claimed victory or declared that they’re in charge. It gives us hope that as powerful as they are, they don’t have the bodies to execute a true invasion.”
A Hispanic-looking guy called out, “So why did they attack? Just to kill millions of people for the sake of it?”
“Billions,” Matt corrected. “And, no, that doesn’t make sense.
There has to be some other purpose to what they’ve done, we just don’t know it yet.”
“What about SYLO?” I called out.
“What about it?” Matt replied. “It’s a branch of the Navy.” “Yeah,” Kent said. “Another branch that’s at war with the Retros.”
Matt looked back and forth between his friends who stood next to him as if confused. “What are these kids doing here?” he asked nobody in particular. He didn’t sound annoyed; it was more like he genuinely didn’t understand.
“We picked them up yesterday evening,” one of his friends answered.
“Uh, I’m sorry, guys,” Matt said, speaking directly to us. “You’re welcome here, but we’ve set up some parameters. We all agreed that we’re not letting kids get involved.
Young people are way too valuable to the future of—” “Whoa, whoa,” Charlotte called out and pushed her way to the front of the group to face Matt. “Let’s take a beat. First off, these aren’t babies. When we talked about protecting kids, we were talking about real youngsters.”
“Uh, yeah. Like them.”
Charlotte looked back, made direct eye contact with me, and smiled.
“I don’t care how old they are,” she said. “These young people have been through far more than any of us. They’ve had contact with the Air Force, or Retros, as they call ’em. They’ve been in the
middle of huge battles between SYLO and these Retros. Turns out, this isn’t a one-sided war after all. The Navy is in on it too. It’s not just one rogue bunch causing trouble, it’s a flat-out civil war.” She had Matt’s attention. Charlotte reached into her pocket and pulled out a plastic baggie full of red crystals. Ruby-red crystals. I heard Olivia gasp with surprise.
“Remember this stuff we took off of that fella who was snooping around here a week or so back? We had no idea what it was . . .
but now we do, because of them. The Retros are feeding it to survivors. It gives folks impossible strength and speed and stamina.
It’s like a steroid on steroids. And you know why they’re doing it? They’re making slaves out of survivors to help them rebuild.
Trouble is, it eventually kills anybody who takes too much. So the way I see it, this confirms what you just said, Matt. These Retros don’t have a lot of manpower. They’re looking to their victims to do their grunt work. That’s good news, and we got it from these young people.”
I felt the eyes of the others on us, and it was making me uncomfortable.
“Let me put it to y’all simply,” Charlotte said. “They know a hell of a lot more about what’s going on than we do, so I’d say we’d be smart to let them do whatever it is they came here to do,
because they may end up being the difference between us doing some good or getting slaughtered.”
Charlotte smiled at me, then looked back at Matt and added, “Now you go on with your little speech.”
Charlotte melted back into the crowd and stood next to me. “Thank you,” I whispered.
“No problem,” she replied under her breath. “Just don’t screw up.”
“I love you, Charlotte,” Matt said. “You’re a pain in my butt, but I love you.”
“I love you too, Matty,” Charlotte replied.
A nervous chuckle went through the crowd. It helped take some of the pressure off.
“All right,” Matt announced. “We’ll see what you guys can offer.
If everything Charlotte says is true, you’re definitely going to be an asset to this operation.”
“What exactly is this operation?” Tori demanded. “We came a long way because you said you were going to fight back. It looks like you’ve got maybe six hundred survivors here.”
“Six hundred and fifty-two,” Charlotte called out.
“Sorry. Six hundred and fifty-two,” Tori repeated, shaking her head. “You have no idea what you’re up against. There are armies battling out there. Powerful, mechanized armies. We’ve been
through an air-to-sea battle that dropped hundreds of planes and sank dozens of warships. These two forces are huge, they’re determined, and there’s nothing that six hundred and fifty-two people can do to stop them, no matter how angry or dedicated they are.
We came here to fight. To make a difference. From what I’ve seen so far, you’re just setting yourself up for a noble suicide.” The room fell deathly quiet. Matt nodded thoughtfully.
“I hear you,” he said without a trace of defensiveness. If anything, his smile was even more sincere. “You’re right. There’s no way we could go toe-to-toe in the kind of battles you’re talking about. But you’re assuming we’re talking about going to war.”
“So then what’s the point?” Kent asked.
“Like I said before, the Air Force—the Retros, as you call them—don’t have manpower. They have firepower. And we know where that firepower is coming from.”
“Where?” I blurted out.
“We know where they’re staging their raids from. It’s where the black fighter planes gather before taking off on their missions.
The thing is, there are incredible numbers of planes, but not a whole lot of people. They may be able to swarm entire cities, but we think they’ll have trouble protecting their own backs.” “So you