Rick smiled and nodded. “Sorry, didn’t mean it like that.”
“And the fact that I’m deliriously tired, feel like I’m about to fall over and might throw up at any moment means absolutely nothing.” Jane returned Rick’s smile and he chuckled.
“Fair enough. Let’s find someplace to hide out and rest.”
With the sound of the diesel engines not far away, Rick and Jane soon found themselves creeping quietly through yet another hotel attached to a half-destroyed casino. The building was in slightly worse shape than the one in which they had been previously when they eluded the men. In spite of the risks Rick wanted to head up to the third floor in case the men started searching buildings nearby.
When they got to the third floor via the fire escape staircase, Rick took the lead through the hallway that felt ever so slightly uneven. He guided them to the end of the building and into a room that had a view of the Strip through grimy, dust-covered windows. The room was large, with two beds, a desk, a few chairs and a mini-fridge with a white piece of paper wrapped around it that had the logo for the hotel printed on the side. Rick took off his gun bag and backpack and put them on the bed farthest from the door.
“Think they’ll mind?” Jane paused in front of the mini-fridge and pointed at it before kneeling down to open it. Though the fridge was no longer cold on the inside, there were a few bottles of water, sports drinks, small bottles of alcohol and a variety of fruit and candy bars. A few pieces of fruit looked too unappetizing to eat, but Rick grabbed a candy bar, a bottle of water and a banana before easing his aching body onto a chair at the opposite end of the room from the door.
“Good grief.” Rick sighed after taking a few bites from the banana. “I had no idea how much I missed fresh fruit.”
Jane was already through with her banana and on to sniffing suspiciously at an apple with a few brown spots on it. “I wish this thing was still edible.”
“Eh. It’s probably fine.” Rick tore open the candy bar wrapper and ate it in two bites before guzzling the entire bottle of water. With his hunger momentarily satiated he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the urge to sleep growing stronger with each passing second. Before he could nod off, though, he heard a faint rumble that steadily grew louder. He jumped up out of his seat and reduced the brightness of his lantern, then set it on the floor under the table.
The windows of the hotel, like the window of the back of the casino, were covered in dirt and dust, but Rick could still see the Humvee rolling along on the street as it wove its way through the wreckage of cars and other debris that littered its path. Following a hundred feet behind the lead vehicle was the second Humvee, its engine running roughly and its paint on the front section blackened from the Molotov Rick had thrown. While the first vehicle had a gunner sitting on the turret, the second vehicle did not, and Rick wondered if the mechanisms on the turret or the gun had been damaged enough that it simply couldn’t support a gunner.
“Do you think they’ll spot us?” Jane watched through the window next to Rick, crouching on the floor and keeping her body out of sight of the window.
“Nah. They can’t search every room in every building and we’re doing what they probably least expect. We should stay here till it gets dark. If we go when it’s night then it’ll be cooler and we’ll be able to slip away more easily.”
“Do you mind if I close my eyes for a few minutes?” Jane looked back at the bed nearest the door with a longing look in her eyes.
“Nah. Go for it. I’ll stay up and listen for any sign of trouble.”
Jane nodded and crawled into the bed and under the covers. Within moments she was fast asleep, leaving Rick crouched at the window. He looked out at the once-glamorous Strip and the destruction that reigned in its wake and wondered about the thousands of people who were undoubtedly staying and working in all of the buildings when the event happened. The stretch of destroyed cars along the strip was awe-inspiring, but that would have undoubtedly paled in comparison to the shaking and rumbling from an earthquake.
Thousands—tens of thousands—of screaming voices as buildings swayed and fires raged across the city, people trying to get to their homes and loved ones and out of the city as fast as they could. Where did they all go, anyway? Rick had avoided looking for anyone who might have died—his experience in Los Angeles made him not want to repeat the experience of seeing hundreds of charred corpses laid out on the roads. He was sure that many people had to have perished in their vehicles and have been trapped in some of the collapsed buildings, but unless he and Jane had somehow missed seeing thousands of corpses lying about, he wasn’t sure what would have happened to them.
Rick’s imagini
ngs of the fate of the people who had been in the city weighed heavily on his mind as he eased back into his chair at the back of the room. He reached for his gun case and unzipped it, placing the shotgun across his legs before tucking the case and the hunting rifle beneath the bed. He stared at Jane for a few long moments, watching her back slowly rise and fall with each breath she took. As he watched her he couldn’t help but think about his wife and children once again.
It felt like he hadn’t seen his family in ages. Without a way to contact them the only thing he could do was keep pushing eastward and pray they were safe. He had complete faith in Dianne’s ability to take care of herself and the kids, but what he had seen since the event started shook him to his bones. Hopefully, he thought, they’ve avoided the worst of it. Hopefully.
Chapter 12
The Day of the Event
Three hours ago, the noise and lights of the Las Vegas Strip overwhelmed the intensity of even the sun itself. As the city woke up for yet another day, the unusual heat of the season had no effect on the workers and visitors to the famous location. Thousands poured out of their hotel rooms, heading for air conditioned buildings to eat, spend their money and engage in activities of varying moral standards. Three hours ago it was just another day in Sin City.
The fires were the first to tear the city apart, spreading through the streets faster than anyone could have imagined. Bumper-to-bumper traffic on nearly every main road didn’t help the situation and contributed to the tortuously painful deaths of thousands. As emergency services tried—and failed—to respond to the fires, they quickly spread from the vehicles to buildings, catching homes and businesses ablaze.
In places that were spared from the fires due to their distance from the streets and vehicles, survivors gathered and waited for some word about what to do next. Less than an hour after the fires began, however, the initial survivors would be the next to fall. Earthquakes—small at first, merely rumbles beneath the ground that were dismissed as figments of the imagination—shook the city. At first the buildings merely swayed, but as the rumblings grew louder and more fierce, more people realized that the quakes weren’t some sort of side effect of the fires as some had hoped and expressed.
Water mains and gas lines ruptured as the ground buckled, sending explosions of water and fire rocking through the city. The worst of the earthquakes were felt across the Strip and to its east. Buildings that had gone up seemingly overnight in an effort to capitalize on a virtual gold rush were the first to fall, crumbling like a gingerbread house set out in the rain. Shoddy construction and cut corners were revealed in the most horrifying of ways as roofs and walls collapsed inward on those seeking shelter from the heat and flames outside.
The larger, older buildings suffered immense structural damage, but most did not fall. Their interiors were left in shambles, their upper floors were unstable and they would have to be demolished and rebuilt, but people who took shelter inside were spared from the worst of the destruction.
Hours after the worst of the quakes are over, aftershocks still ripple through the city and surrounding areas. Most of the dead are buried or burned beyond all recognition. The survivors flee the center of the city for the edges, bartering with the gangs that have risen up and taken power. People sell the clothes off of their back—and more—for the promise of a warm place to sleep and a few scraps of food. The few vehicles that are left intact are used to flee the city for the hope of shelter elsewhere, though there is little to be found.
Small clusters of survivors band together in buildings around the city as they resist the gangs and try to find enough food and water to extend their lives for a few more days. Many who require medication or constant care die within hours. A lack of medical care, the overwhelming heat and stress kill many in the first twenty-four hours.
Some who are close enough to Nellis Air Force Base seek shelter inside. Only a few hundred are allowed inside before the base commander seals the gates and turns everyone else away until he can assess the situation. Fear runs rampant through the base as orders are given from the highest levels.
As groups of vehicles are cleared the base commander begins sending them out in groups to comb the city for survivors. Those who are found are searched, stripped of weapons and brought back to the base. Those who have traveled on foot to the base take longer to process and bring inside, and each new person that appears puts more of a strain on the base resources.