Chapter Four

“So, what’s our next move?” I say from the backseat. I gulp down some soda through a straw and burp, the first time that’s ever happened. I like it.

“Our next move?” Colonel Dayton repeats.

“Sure, I mean, you must have a plan. You told me you always have a plan, right?”

Cutty clears his throat and speaks quietly. “Are we ready to show him?”

My ears perk up. “Show me what?”

Dayton gives Cutty an odd look, then turns around to stare at me. “Yeah, there’s a plan, not a very solid one, but a plan. When we get to Las Vegas, we have to pick someone up at The Tropicana. Dixie said Major Ransom insisted on it. I’ve never met the gentleman, so…” He let the words, and his apprehension hang in the air. “Before that, however, there’s something you need to see.”

My heart catches in my throat. He’s so serious and I imagine the worst: did something happen to Dixie?

We jump on the freeway and head north. The highway cuts a path through endless miles of white sand and dry, open flatland. Las Vegas, the world’s playground, is straight ahead, hidden in the misty haze of the desert heat. A never-ending line of vehicles crams the road ahead of us, all melting together in a shimmering mirage.

Before long, a familiar sight looms in the distance. A small peak juts up out of the valley floor about ten miles south of Vegas: Claremont Estates—the place where everything began, where I was born. I close my eyes, hoping Cutty drives past it as fast as he can. Instead, the car slows down and the turn signal blinks.

Cutty takes the Claremont exit and drives to the base of the small hill. The road changes from blacktop to gravel and rises steadily upward, winding its way through tall pines, slender palms, and short Joshua trees. Memories skitter through my mind. I think of my family—my pack. I recall when Dixie drove me here and later saved my life. I remember The Las Vegas Disaster.

“What are we doing here?”

“You’ll find out,” Dayton says.

“No. Tell me now.”

Dayton puts a hand on Cutty’s shoulder, and the sedan’s tires crunch to a stop. The engine keeps running and Dayton swivels around to face me. “Hundreds of Giant Wolfhounds were brought to Las Vegas the night of The Disaster. Most of the wolfhounds were killed by the military. Some survived.”

A form scampers across the road in front of us. It moves so fast I can’t tell what it is.

Dayton continues, “Aunt Rose, Dixie, myself, and Cutty have tracked down most of the survivors and settled them here. They’re off the radar, so to speak. Without the Daemons or Alphas guiding them, they live quietly in the surrounding houses.

“Dixie said Major Ransom insisted I help with their relocation. I agreed, reluctantly at first, but soon saw the merit in what they were doing. These wolfhounds were unwilling pawns in The Disaster. Once their bond to the Alphas ended, they were lost; homeless and hungry.”

My hands start to sweat.

We continue climbing the hill and park in the cul-de-sac outside my old house. This is the last thing I want to do; the last place I want to be.

Cutty rolls down his window and honks the horn twice. The door to my old house creaks open, and a girl steps out. She wears a white sleeveless blouse and blue jeans. A big dimpled smile accompanies a friendly wave. Her gait is quick and light down the driveway to our sedan. She leans into the open window, her arms folded across the door.

“Hi, Cutty. Hi, Colonel. Who’s that in the backseat?” Her dishwater blonde hair hangs in curls around her freckled face. Her manner is open and trusting. I don’t trust her.

“Tina, meet Adam Steel. Adam, this is Tina.”

“He’s cute.” She sniffs the air. “He’s one of us. Are you dropping him off?”

“No.” I can’t get the word out fast enough. “They’re not dropping me off, and I’m not one of you. I’m human.”

“Okay, okay.” Tina frowns. “In denial.”

“Colonel.” I lean forward and place my hands on the front seat. “We need to leave. I don’t know why you brought me here.”

“Sure.”

Cutty turns off the engine.

My heart races. “What are you doing?”

“Need to unload the stuff we brought.” Cutty steps out and grins at Tina. He calls out, “Hey, Adam, want to give us a hand?”

“No.”

Tina giggles. “Suit yourself.”

Cutty makes two trips to the house and back. Tina helps him carry in cases of bottled water and bags of ice. Another person scampers out of my old house to help with the supplies.

“Hey, Jake,” Cutty says, “thanks for the hand.”

“Oh boy,” I hear Jake say, “Pop Tarts. Ciminum, my favorite. Yuminum.”

The joy in his voice makes me smile.

Dayton clears his throat. “I thought you’d want to know, you’re not the only one of them left alive.”

I don’t know what he means. I’m no longer one of them.

“At one time, I wanted them all put down,” he says, “including you. I’ve done a complete one-eighty. Obviously.”

I don’t say anything back right away. The trunk slams shut and Cutty and Tina make small talk and laugh.

I lean forward and put my arms on the front seat again. “How many of them are here?”

“About seventy.”

Cutty slips back in behind the wheel. Tina leans through the window. “Come back when you’re ready, Adam.”

Glancing over her shoulder, I see faces staring through the windows of my old house. We drive down the hill and hop back on the freeway heading north. I guess I’d always thought about survivors, but never dwelled on it. The night of The Convergence, I witnessed hundreds of them slipping into the shadows and running off to the desert. “You say there’s only about seventy of them?”

The colonel nods. “I imagine the rest died in the desert. Some tried to assimilate in the city as humans, but they weren’t very good at it, not like you. That’s where we found most of the ones we relocated.”

It’s hard to get my mind off the wolfhounds. They were brought here to kill humans. Why should the colonel care about what happens to them? Why should I? I have to change the subject. “Who is this guy we’re picking up?”

Colonel Dayton swivels around. “His name is Charlie Nguyen. Dixie said Major Ransom insisted on his presence.”

My mind races. Who is this Charlie Nguyen guy? How long has he known Dixie, and how well do they know each other? I wrestle with an emotion humans call jealousy, but I don’t know why. Of course, I have feelings for Dixie, but it’s been two years. She’s been out in the world able to mix and mingle with all sorts of people. It’s unreasonable to assume she still has feelings for me.

Sure, one time we kissed, we hugged, and she confessed her love for me, but that was a long time ago and circumstances were much different. Times change—people change.

Colonel Dayton turns around again. “You’re pretty quiet back there, are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” A white lie, acceptable in the human world.

The enormous structures of the Las Vegas casinos loom ahead like giant castles rising from the desert. Cutty takes the Tropicana exit and crosses Las Vegas Boulevard. The Tropicana Hotel and Casino towers over us on the right. Cutty parks the car near the main entrance.

“I won’t be long, Cutty. Keep the engine running and wait here.”

“Will do, Colonel.”

Dayton gets out and enters the casino leaving me alone with Cutty.

“So,” Cutty turns in his seat, running a hand through his wild red hair, and stares at me, “what’d ya think about seeing Claremont?”

I don’t want to answer.

“That’s okay, you can tell me. We’re on the same side now. You know, I jumped ship with the colonel. He’s a helluva guy. Oh, sure, the UN was a pretty good gig and all, but I think what we’re doing now is more important, you know, good against evil and all that. Plus, Aunt Rose sets a mean table; I mean she can cook anything you want. What more does anyone need? Great food and a good cause. I mean, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that those dogs—”

“Canines,” I blurt out in an effort to stop him from saying another word. “They’re not dogs, they’re canines: Giant Irish Wolfhounds.”

“Sure, sure, I’m sorry. You know I’ve never talked to a dog, er, I mean, a canine before we started bringing supplies up to Claremont. They seem like a nice bunch, really friendly, you know? At least Tina is. It must be fun, barking and running and stuff.”

His constant prattle annoys me at first, but it doesn’t take long before I realize he’s genuinely interested. Cutty has an open, honest face, even though his eyes tend to narrow a bit when he’s on a roll, like now.

“I mean, from what Tina says, life is so much less complicated in her world. You know where you stand with the pack. And man can they run! I’ve seen Tina tear down that hill and race back up in no time. Man, what I wouldn’t give to be able to do that.”

“It has its moments.” He stares at me and I need to ask him something, now, while I have his attention, and while we’re alone. I’ve wondered about it for two years. “Tell me something, Cutty, when Colonel Dayton ordered you to hold Dixie at gunpoint, did you ever question his motive? I mean, after all, she was trying to stop The Disaster.”

“No way. I just did what he told me to do. He gave me a gun on the way up to the penthouse in the elevator and told me what to do. That night was so crazy, I didn’t even know who the hell she was then.”

“And you did it, just like that?”

“Sure.” He has a funny laugh: Yuk-yuk-yuk. “But it didn’t matter. I mean, the gun wasn’t even loaded.”

My eyes bulge. “What?”

“That was okay with me, man. I mean, I’m not a killer. I’ve never shot anyone in my life, hope I never have to. I’m a great driver, a decent pilot, and I can get you almost anything you need—but a killer? No way, man.” He laughs again. “Besides, I talked to Dixie about it, and she doesn’t hold a grudge. She’s cool about it.” The car shudders, and Cutty is instantly distracted. “Damn, I hope the A/C doesn’t quit. I hate this heat, don’t you?”

Before I can agree with him, the door opens and Colonel Dayton gets in. The door across from me opens and a woman wearing red shorts and a black tube top sidles in next to me on the bench seat. Her gold platform shoes are outrageous: at least ten inches tall, sprinkled with glitter—the most impractical footwear I’ve ever seen anyone wear (outside a cartoon character, of course).

“Gentlemen,” Dayton says, “meet Charlie Nguyen.”

I smile at her. Charlie Nguyen is a girl. My smile widens. “Nice to meet you.”

She ignores my hand. “So, you’re the dog.”

“Canine,” Cutty says. “He prefers canine.”

“Whatever,” Charlie Nguyen says. “Let’s get going.”

I notice Colonel Dayton and Cutty exchange a quiet glance, and realize it’s not just me who feels uneasy with our new passenger.

“C’mon,” Charlie Nguyen barks, “are you deaf? Let’s go.”

****

Maxwell Sullivan tipped the valet in exchange for his keys. The twin turbo-charged V-8 engine purred under the parking canopy. Max knew the jet-black luxury car was a bit over-the-top, but what the hell, he could afford it. Besides, why not greet the end of the world in style? It wasn’t his world.

“Thank you, sir,” the valet said as he pocketed the c-note tip and held the door open. “Be safe out there, sir.”

Max pushed his shades down over the bridge of his nose and studied the young man through sparkling green eyes. “Why?” With that, he slammed the door, shifted the Mercedes S-Class into first, and painted black tire tracks on the gray pavers of the Palazzo Hotel and Casino porte cochère. He caught oncoming traffic at just the right moment and powered onto The Strip.

Things couldn’t have been going better. The past two days, he spent acclimating to the Vegas lifestyle: gambling and hookers. As far as gambling was concerned, he’d just about broken even; the hookers were a different story. They hadn’t performed to his liking so he’d given them permanent reminders the customer was always right. When their pimps knocked on his door, he knocked harder on them.

The nights, however, belonged to Gorgeous.

He blew through the red light at Sahara Avenue and glared back at the blue lights in his mirror. “Shit.” He eased the Mercedes to the curb and stopped.

“Do you know why I stopped you?”

“No, I haven’t a clue, officer. Why don’t you enlighten me?” Max squinted up at the blond-haired kid behind the badge. This prick was gonna make him late.

“You failed to stop at a red light.”

“Fail to stop, my ass. I pushed on the gas—big deal.” He held two hundred-dollar bills out of the window toward the officer, as if he were at a drive-through.

“Sir, step out of the car.”

“No.”

The officer un-snapped the holster strap securing his pistol.

Max laughed. “Are you going to shoot me?”

The officer drew his pistol. Max raised a hand, twirled his fingers, and a dark blue Mustang veered toward the patrolman and clipped him, sending him to the pavement in a heap. Max reached out and dropped the bills onto the injured officer.

“I’m letting you off with a warning this time.”

Max raced up The Strip and jumped on the 95. At almost twice the posted speed limit, it took only fifteen minutes to reach the Sky Pointe Drive exit. He turned left on Moccasin Road and pulled off onto the Paiute Indian Colony land.

He turned off the car and sat with the windows rolled up, in the middle of a burning desert under the late afternoon sun. After lighting a fat cigar, he puffed smoke rings at the windshield.

In his side view mirror, he caught billows of sand rising in a straight line a mile or so down the road. An approaching vehicle. Glancing at his Rolex, he smiled. She was right on time.

She parked the white Lexus next to his car and got out. Her ivory-colored, full-length, dress danced in the wind.

Max exited the Mercedes and strode forward to greet her, his white hair tousled by the breeze. “Gorgeous, how you doing? What gives with a daytime meeting?”

“Maxwell Sullivan. What part of low-profile do you not understand?” Gorgeous spit the words out in sharp contrast to her unwavering smile; the mask he knew so well. “You know, I had my doubts about involving you. However, you gave me your word you’d behave, and I trusted you.”

“Behave?” He grinned. “I don’t think I’m familiar with that particular human word.” He pinched the lit end of the cigar with his fingers until the fire went out. “Besides, since when can a Devil’s word be trusted?” He snickered. “Oh, come on, Gorgeous, I’m just having a little fun. After all, this is what the humans call Sin City. A little tame for my tastes, but still—”

“Two prostitutes in the hospital, their procurers in comas, and a Las Vegas Metro officer hit by a car in full view of the public, on Las Vegas Boulevard for Hell’s sake. And all this in just three days.” Gorgeous glared at him.

Max thrust out his chest, smiled, and nodded.

“You do realize I’m not praising you. I need you to keep doing your job, which has been excellent, thus far. Beyond that, I want you invisible. Do you understand?”

“Oh, but listen honey, that policeman deserved—” His throat constricted. He dropped the cigar and stared at Gorgeous through blurry eyes.

Gorgeous’s smile grew just a bit as her brows came together. “Do you think I enjoy driving like a human, through miles of desert just to see you?”

Maxwell shook his head, his hands pawing at his throat.

“That’s right, I don’t. But, unfortunately, I am not able to tele transport onto sacred ground. The good news is meeting here, your father cannot listen to our conversation; a fact you should appreciate given your brazen disregard of my commands. Listen well my young Devil, I may not be able to kill you, but endless torture is well within the scope of my terms for your use.”

Sullivan nodded and allowed a breath. He raised his hands to his throat. The word shot out like a cough, “Sure.”

“Sure, what?”

“Sure, I understand. Do my job, but keep a low profile. Invisible.”

Another plume of dust rose from the dirt road behind them. Gorgeous and Sullivan watched the vehicle approach. A brown Toyota Corolla shuddered to a stop, and a woman stepped out. She handed the keys to Gorgeous, bowed, and backed away.

“Your new ride is here,” Gorgeous said, offering the keys to Sullivan.

“What? That piece of crap? Oh, please honey—” His throat closed again.

“The vehicle is nondescript,” Gorgeous said, “practically invisible, but most reliable.”

Max nodded and took the keys. He sucked in a large breath. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. No more luxury sedans.”

“And I’ve gotten you a very nice room at the Wild Joker Motel on Fremont Street.”

“The wild what?”

“And no more gambling, and especially no more prostitutes. Is that understood?”

Max scanned the surrounding desert. He may have gotten a bit out of line and Gorgeous simply reeled him back in, that’s all. He might have done the same if he were her, maybe worse. But no more hookers? That was just mean. He swallowed and nodded.

“Good.” Gorgeous lifted her head and gazed toward the sun, as if her next words required solar assistance. “I like you, Maxwell, I really do. In fact, normally, I find it quite amusing when you misbehave. You’ve got a real style about you; a genuine penchant for perverseness.” She lowered her head as well as her voice. “A quality that reminds me of your father.”

“My father is old. He’s lost his edge.”

Gorgeous stared at him, her eyes burning like miniature suns. “I couldn’t agree more. This is your chance to effect real change…perhaps a regime change. If you perform well, your stock will rise in his eyes. He might be more willing to rely on your council, perhaps take you back into the fold, as it were.”

“I like where this is going.”

“Max, my darling, all I’m saying is I have a lot on my hands, and I’m counting on you to do your part. Crawl into the woodwork and become invisible when you’re not working. If all goes as planned, it will soon be over.”

“And after that?”

“Why, after that you can do whatever the hell you want.”

Max glowed. Gorgeous was a woman of her word. Whatever the hell he wanted sounded like heaven. He marched to the Toyota and hopped in. “Your wish, my command—all of that. I guess you know where to reach me then, my sweet. I’ll be poolside at the Wild Joker.”

“Oh, sorry Max, there’s no swimming pool. But they do have free HBO.”