David Robbins: Nevada Run

Blade squatted next to the youth. Ted’s eyes were open but listless.

Dried blood caked the corners of his mouth. “Ted? Can you hear me?”

Ted did not respond.

“Ted? This is Blade? I need to talk to you,” Blade stated.

“Blade?” Ted said, rousing from his trauma-induced lethargy. He focused on the Warrior with an intent expression. “You’re here!”

“I’m here,” Blade said. He noticed the youth spoke with great difficulty.

“I’m sorry to impose at a time like this, but we must talk.”

“It’s all right,” Ted asserted.

“I know you’re in a lot of pain, but I must know what happened,” Blade said, coaxing the youth.

Ted clicked his puffy lips. “Okay. Mindy, Faron, Grace, and I took a walk south of town. We were on our way back when two jeeps pulled up and a guy got out.”

“Who was this guy?” Blade interjected. “Do you know?”

“He gave his name as Anthony Pucci,” Ted revealed. “He was acting real nice and friendly, but I didn’t like the looks of him. He claimed he needed directions to the Home. Said he’d come all the way from Nevada.”

“Nevada!” Blade remarked in surprise.

“Yep,” Ted went on. “He was polite at first, and he seemed very interested in Mindy after she told him her mom is a Warrior. He even offered us some candy. That’s when…” Ted began, then stopped, torment etched in his features.

“Take it easy,” Blade advised. “If you can’t talk about it, I’ll understand.”

Ted inhaled deeply. “He shot us! For no reason at all, he shot us! He pretended to reach into his jeep for some candy, but he pulled a gun out instead. I was shot first and I didn’t see the others get hit. I was in too much pain. But I dimly recall them forcing Mindy into the jeep.”

“Did this Pucci say why they were taking her?” Blade questioned.

“No,” Ted said sadly. “But he did tell me to give you a message.”

Blade’s forehead creased in bewilderment. “Me? He mentioned me by name?”

“He sure did,” Ted stated. “I’ll never forget his words! He wanted me to give the Warriors his regards. And he said to tell you that he’d be waiting for you and the other Warriors. He said if Helen wants to see Mindy again, then the Warriors must come to Las Vegas.”

“Why Las Vegas?”

“I don’t know,” Ted answered. “He said if the Warriors don’t show up in Las Vegas within one month, then Mindy will die.”

“Was that all?” Blade asked.

“No,” Ted replied. “There was one more thing. He said Mindy would be waiting for you at the Golden Crown Casino. He wanted me to be certain to remember the name. The Golden Crown Casino.”

Blade was baffled. “And that was all? He didn’t say anything else?”

“That was his message,” Ted responded.

“Okay,” Blade said. “What happened next?”

“That’s when he kicked me,” Ted said. “I don’t remember anything else until I woke up on this couch.”

Blade slowly straightened. “You said there were two jeeps. How many others were with Pucci?”

“I don’t know,” Ted said. “There were two or three in the first jeep, and I didn’t see how many were in the second.”

“What did Pucci look like?” Blade inquired.

“He was about six feet tall,” Ted detailed. “His hair was black, his eyes brown. His face was kind of mean looking. I don’t know how to describe it.”

Blade placed his right hand on the youth’s shoulder. “Why don’t you get some rest? If I have any more questions I’ll get back to you.”

Ted’s eyelids were beginning to droop. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you out! We’ve got to save Mindy!”

“I know,” Blade assured the youth. “Don’t worry. We’ll save her.” He turned and walked into the corridor.

Dan and Agnes were waiting near the door.

“You can go on in,” Blade directed them. “I’m through with Ted for now.”

“Thank you,” Dan responded.

Zahner stepped into the corridor and patiently waited for the parents to go into the room before he spoke. “So what did you make out of all that information?”

“I’m stumped,” Blade confessed. “I don’t know any Anthony Pucci.

None of the Warriors have ever been to Las Vegas, so far as I know. There doesn’t seem to be any reason behind the attack.”

“There has to be a reason,” Zahner said. “Why else did they drive all the way here from Nevada?”

“I wish I knew,” Blade stated. “Right now I’d like to see the body of the stranger.”

“Follow me,” Zahner said, and led the way down the corridor for another 30 feet until he stopped next to a closed door on the left. “The bodies are in here,” he explained, then opened the door.

Blade strolled inside to find three long tables occupying the center of the room and a maple desk and a folding chair to his right. Each table was draped with a white sheet profiling the contours of a human figure underneath.

“This is the one with the stranger,” Zahner said, moving to the table on the right. He lifted the sheet.

Blade walked to the head of the table and examined the corpse. The man’s dark brown suit was soaked with blood. Someone had shot him repeatedly at point-blank range. “Why would they shoot one of their own men?” he wondered aloud.

“We found a rifle next to his body,” Zahner disclosed. “It hadn’t been fired.”

“What do you make of his clothes?” Blade asked.

Zahner shrugged. “The suit looks new to me.”

“It does,” Blade agreed. “And we both know that the men in the Civilized Zone and California wear suits just like this one. It was the style the men were wearing before the war. Buckskins are the rule elsewhere, like in the Dakota Territory and in Montana. A lot of my Family wear buckskins too, because they’re easy to make and they last a long time.

Fabric like the material in this suit is hard to come by. Except for the Civilized Zone and California, there aren’t any factories manufacturing this type of clothing. For that matter, there aren’t many clothing manufacturers of any kind around, period. Which is why we must make buckskins or patch together old garments.”

“Do you think there’s a link between this Nevada business and California or the Civilized Zone?” Zahner queried.

“Don’t know,” Blade said. “Maybe there’s a manufacturing facility in Las Vegas.” He paused. “What did you find in his pockets?”

“His pockets?” Zahner responded, sounding surprised.

Blade looked at the Clansman. “Yes. Didn’t you go through his pockets?”

“No,” Zahner said. “I had him brought here, along with the other bodies and Ted, and then took off for the Home. I didn’t have time to search him.”

“Then let’s do it,” Blade declared.

Zahner tugged on the sheet and it slid to the floor.

Blade quickly examined the man’s pockets. He found a set of keys in the right front pants pocket and a wad of bills in the left. “Here,” he said, handing both to Zahner. Next he inspected the jacket pockets. There was nothing in either of the outside ones, but he did discover two items in an inside left pocket. The first was a small black book, the second a circular piece of blue plastic with the words JOHNNY’S PALACE imprinted on both sides.

“There’s two thousand dollars here,” Zahner announced, having just counted the money.

Blade paged through the small black book. On each one was a list of names, and beside each name was an address and a seven digit number.

Some of the names were businesses, like Eddy’s Garage , and they were all arranged alphabetically. Acting on a hunch he turned to the Gs and there it was: Golden Crown Casino. 6619 Las Vegas Boulevard. 273-1400 .