Well, crazy is a lot more normal now.” He shrugged. “Plus I sort of want to see if you’re right anyway.”
“ Ha!” She swerved around a small pod of four zombies and gunned the car down the Strip. “I knew it.”
“ So where is this ‘safe place’ supposed to be this time?” he asked as he pulled an atlas from the backseat of the car.
She turned into the drive in front of one of the first casinos on the South side of the Strip. It was an older place, one that had probably been set to be torn down at some point before the Outbreak changed everyone’s plans.
“ Club Cash-Out.” He shook his head. “Sounds classy. How come no one ever holes up in the Venetian or the Bellagio… you know, a nice place?”
“ Too big,” Sam said as she pulled the hand brake on the car. “The Bellagio has almost 4000 rooms and there are literally hundreds of thousands of square feet in that place. Can you imagine all the zombies in there? No, this place only has a hundred rooms. Much better odds to protect it and block additional entrances.”
Troy stared at her. “You think about this stuff too much.”
“ That’s how come I’m still alive.”
He reached in the back seat and grabbed for the arsenal they’d been collecting for the past few weeks. Shotguns, handguns, rifles, a bayonet, a machete and a chainsaw.
“ Load it up,” he said as he started handing over weapons to her. Now came the tricky part.
“ Look, you can’t have the 9mm and the shotgun,” Sam laughed. “It isn’t fair.”
“ You and your negotiations.” He rolled his eyes. “Okay, I want the 9mm, so you take the shotgun.”
They continued that way until they had split up the weapons and gotten them into their rightful holsters and slings. Sam sighed.
“ Are you ready for this?”
Troy shrugged one shoulder. “No, but there really isn’t any choice, right? It is what it is.”
“ Indeed.” She opened her car door. “Be careful.”
He got out too and both of them scanned their surroundings. She had the bayonet and he had the machete. Over the months they’d learned gunfire generally brought more zombies… sort of like a monster dinner bell. They had begun to reserve those kinds of high caliber weapons for emergencies and tight situations with no other choices. As they approached the big automatic doors under the awning, Sam could see that they were barricaded.
A very good sign.
“ Stop there!” came a voice from behind the blockade.
Sam froze and so did Troy. Barrels of guns were poking out from strategically placed holes. At least ten that she could count with a quick scan.
“ What’s the password?” the voice from behind the wall asked.
Sam looked at Troy and he shrugged. “Um,” he said. “We’re not zombies.”
There were muffled voices in discussion and then a creak as a few sections of the barricade were slid away. “Hurry, hurry,” the voice encouraged them.
They rushed inside and a group of a few young men shoved the barricade back into place behind them. The original sliding doors of the casino were propped open and a weak light from inside cast an eerie glow on the ragged group of survivors behind the barricade. Mostly young people, probably not a one of them was older than twenty-five. Not that Sam or Troy were much past that, themselves, but it was still weird to see all young faces, some of them probably barely out of high school.
“ Was that really the password?” Troy asked.
One of the kids shrugged. “Naw,” he said. “But zombies don’t talk. So really anything that’s English is the password.”
Introductions were made all around, not that Sam would remember who anyone was. She hadn’t been very good with names before the apocalypse, why remember someone’s name who would probably be dead in five minutes? Hell, it had taken her a week to remember Troy’s name. He still gave her shit about calling him Tim, Tom, Trey… even Tron (which was still her favorite). She really needed to
“ Ha!” She swerved around a small pod of four zombies and gunned the car down the Strip. “I knew it.”
“ So where is this ‘safe place’ supposed to be this time?” he asked as he pulled an atlas from the backseat of the car.
She turned into the drive in front of one of the first casinos on the South side of the Strip. It was an older place, one that had probably been set to be torn down at some point before the Outbreak changed everyone’s plans.
“ Club Cash-Out.” He shook his head. “Sounds classy. How come no one ever holes up in the Venetian or the Bellagio… you know, a nice place?”
“ Too big,” Sam said as she pulled the hand brake on the car. “The Bellagio has almost 4000 rooms and there are literally hundreds of thousands of square feet in that place. Can you imagine all the zombies in there? No, this place only has a hundred rooms. Much better odds to protect it and block additional entrances.”
Troy stared at her. “You think about this stuff too much.”
“ That’s how come I’m still alive.”
He reached in the back seat and grabbed for the arsenal they’d been collecting for the past few weeks. Shotguns, handguns, rifles, a bayonet, a machete and a chainsaw.
“ Load it up,” he said as he started handing over weapons to her. Now came the tricky part.
“ Look, you can’t have the 9mm and the shotgun,” Sam laughed. “It isn’t fair.”
“ You and your negotiations.” He rolled his eyes. “Okay, I want the 9mm, so you take the shotgun.”
They continued that way until they had split up the weapons and gotten them into their rightful holsters and slings. Sam sighed.
“ Are you ready for this?”
Troy shrugged one shoulder. “No, but there really isn’t any choice, right? It is what it is.”
“ Indeed.” She opened her car door. “Be careful.”
He got out too and both of them scanned their surroundings. She had the bayonet and he had the machete. Over the months they’d learned gunfire generally brought more zombies… sort of like a monster dinner bell. They had begun to reserve those kinds of high caliber weapons for emergencies and tight situations with no other choices. As they approached the big automatic doors under the awning, Sam could see that they were barricaded.
A very good sign.
“ Stop there!” came a voice from behind the blockade.
Sam froze and so did Troy. Barrels of guns were poking out from strategically placed holes. At least ten that she could count with a quick scan.
“ What’s the password?” the voice from behind the wall asked.
Sam looked at Troy and he shrugged. “Um,” he said. “We’re not zombies.”
There were muffled voices in discussion and then a creak as a few sections of the barricade were slid away. “Hurry, hurry,” the voice encouraged them.
They rushed inside and a group of a few young men shoved the barricade back into place behind them. The original sliding doors of the casino were propped open and a weak light from inside cast an eerie glow on the ragged group of survivors behind the barricade. Mostly young people, probably not a one of them was older than twenty-five. Not that Sam or Troy were much past that, themselves, but it was still weird to see all young faces, some of them probably barely out of high school.
“ Was that really the password?” Troy asked.
One of the kids shrugged. “Naw,” he said. “But zombies don’t talk. So really anything that’s English is the password.”
Introductions were made all around, not that Sam would remember who anyone was. She hadn’t been very good with names before the apocalypse, why remember someone’s name who would probably be dead in five minutes? Hell, it had taken her a week to remember Troy’s name. He still gave her shit about calling him Tim, Tom, Trey… even Tron (which was still her favorite). She really needed to
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