D. MacHale - Storm

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.”