Hope And Undead Elvis Part 20

"This journey has been one long camping trip," she said.

Fidel didn't answer; he was busy trying to get the last few chunks from his can.

Hope poured some water into an empty Cool Whip container and he slurped it down. Then he whined until she opened the door to let him out to pee. He hurried, and Hope couldn't blame him. When he came back into the car his fur was already matted by blowing snow and icicles dangled from his belly.

Hope sighed. The storm wasn't getting any better and she could barely see the road anymore. "I guess we better go."

She reached out to put The Way back into gear but stopped. Something out in the snow caught her eye. What was it she'd seen? She stared for a long time but it didn't repeat itself. Snow blew around the car.

Hope shook herself. She'd fallen asleep. Fidel was snoring on the seat beside her, his back pressed against her side. The sky had grown darker and the snowdrifts higher. The Way still idled and blew hot air. The extra fuel gauge Nur had bolted to the dash showed that the car's oversized fuel tank was still three-quarters full.

In the distance off to one side, she could see a glow on the horizon that was neither sun nor moon. It wasn't the flickering orange of fire, but a steady, inviting yellow glow that spoke of electricity, of Civilization.

"Graceland," whispered Hope. She must have seen the light earlier but not recognized it for what it was.

She put The Way into gear. It strained to move and for a terrifying moment, it didn't and Hope feared they were stuck. Then, with a cracking of ice buildup, the car wrenched itself free from where Hope stopped it and it crept forward.

She didn't dare put her foot on the gas pedal at all. Every time she tried, the back wheels would spin and the rear end would start to slide to one side or the other. She let the engine idle pull the car along. The slow pace was maddening with Graceland so close, but she couldn't see the road anymore, and had to drive more by feel than anything else. If one or the other of the front wheels started to dip, she corrected enough for the car to wend its way back to snow-covered pavement.

Then, out of the blowing snow, she spotted another billboard. This one was intact. Graceland Casino, 1/4 Mile. "Almost there," she said.

The approaching overpa.s.s of the exit looked like a snow cave. Her headlights picked out the delineator posts with orange reflectors that marked the exit ramp. She took her best guess at the approach angle and turned The Way.

Halfway up the ramp, the wheels started to spin, and Hope panicked and goosed the throttle. The wheels kicked up snow and ice and made a horrendous squealing sound, but somehow the car kept moving forward enough to make the top of the ramp. She turned the wheel enough to get The Way pointed toward the bright lights of the Graceland Casino and started down the road toward it.

It might not be Undead Elvis's Graceland, she thought, but they had electricity, which meant heat, light, hot water, and maybe a safe place to have her baby.

Chapter Thirty.

Hope and the Casino A bright spotlight pegged The Way in its beam, and Hope braked. The car slewed sideways on the slick road but came to a stop. "Attention, driver and pa.s.sengers," blared an amplified voice. "Please keep your hands in plain view. You are under armed surveillance. Any hostile acts will be met with a lethal response. Please wait to be questioned."

Fidel sat up and looked out at the brilliant lights, then he barked at three approaching figures.

"Hush, Fidel," said Hope. "They can't help it that they're suspicious. I would be, too. Be a good dog."

The three people were too wrapped up in winter garb for her to identify whether they were men or women. All three had rifles; two carried them at the ready, covering the car and Hope. The third kept his or her rifle slung on a shoulder strap. All three looked competent and careful as they approached the car, unmindful of the blizzard around them. Hope made sure to keep her hands up as they grew near.

She felt a twinge from low in her belly. It wasn't a kick, like her son tended to do when he'd been cramped for too long by her sitting. It felt different, more acute and sharp. She wondered if it was a contraction. She'd heard pregnant women sometimes had them early, but it seemed like it was too soon for her to begin labor. The pain didn't repeat, so she tried to put it out of her mind.

The warden with the slung rifle pulled an object from a leg sheath. A moment later, it unfurled into an umbrella. The scarf and goggles came off the face to reveal a bearded, middle-aged man. He held the umbrella to shield his head and the driver's side window from the blizzard, and then rapped his gloved knuckles on the gla.s.s.

Bracing herself against the inevitable blast of cold and wet, Hope rolled down the window.

"Just you and the dog?" asked the man.

"Yes," said Hope.

"Do you have any useful skills, trade goods, or weapons?"

"I can cook a little, I guess. I've got some food and water." She wondered if she should risk not mentioning the pistol, but then considered what might happen if they discovered it anyway. "I have a pistol that's mostly empty. That's all."

"Any illnesses, injuries, or medical conditions?"

Hope almost burst out laughing. "I'm pregnant."

The man's eyes widened as he looked down at her belly. How he'd missed that, she had no idea, but it was like he was truly seeing her for the first time. "Pregnant," he said as if trying out the word. "How far along?"

"I don't know. Pretty far, I think. Is there a doctor here?"

The man took a radio from a pocket and spoke into it. Hope couldn't hear him over the wind, although she did catch the word "pregnant."

By the time he finished his conversation, her teeth were chattering. "Go on up to the main entrance," he said. "A valet will meet you, inventory your vehicle, and confiscate your weapon. He'll issue you claim receipts for items you wish to retain and chips for items you wish to relinquish. Your dog will have to go to the kennel, but you'll be permitted visitation. Do you understand these instructions?"

"Yes," said Hope.

The man waved his arm and the other two lowered their rifles, although they kept them at the ready. "Welcome to the Graceland Casino."

Hope drove through great swaths of snow-covered pavement that she a.s.sumed were parking lots, following a plowed track all the way to the casino's main entrance.

Brilliant electric and neon lighting illuminated the front of the huge building. Heaters mounted underneath the great carport glowed with ruddy warmth, keeping the blowing snow at bay. Armed guards awaited her, their weapons held at high point. She must not have been a credible threat. That suited her just fine; all she wanted was a hot bath and a meal. A man in a red jacket motioned for her to stop the car and get out.

"Welcome to Graceland Casino. Here we will take inventory of your possessions and issue you claim receipts for those items you wish to retain and chips for those you are willing to relinquish to the Casino."

"Chips?" asked Hope.

"We operate on a token-based economy in the Casino," said the man. "You may use tokens to purchase specific items or services. Or, if you wish, you may gamble to increase your wealth." His smile was pleasant and warm. "Just because the world has ended doesn't mean we can't maintain a civilized way of life."

Hope smiled back. "I suppose not. It's been awhile."

"Step out of the car, please, Miss. I'm Josh, in charge of valets and inventory."

"I'm Hope, and this fellow is Fidel."

"Pleased to meet you, Hope. Oh my G.o.d!" Josh's eyes widened as he took in the unmistakeable bulge of Hope's belly. "Is that... I mean, are you...?"

"Yes, I'm pregnant. Is that such an oddity?"

"It is here. Mr. Duce has been worried about it."

"Mr. Duce?"

"Zane Duce. He's in charge. He'll want to talk to you."

Hope's teeth chattered in spite of the overhead heaters. "That's fine. Can we just get this part over with? I'm freezing."

"Oh. Of course."

A middle-aged woman in a wheelchair with a manual typewriter in her lap rolled over to The Way as Josh and another man rifled through it. They called out items they found and the woman typed them onto a list. Fidel barked at them from inside the car. During a pause while Josh sent for someone with a collar, leash, and muzzle, the woman with the typewriter stared at Hope with tears in her eyes. It made her feel awkward and uncomfortable.

Fidel made no move to leave the car when the door was opened. He lowered his head and growled at the man with the leash. The man pulled a pistol from his belt and leveled it at the dog.

"No!" Hope grabbed his arm.

"Lady, settle him down or he eats a bullet, and that comes out of your credit. I ain't going to get bit."

"Give me the leash."

Hope approached Fidel. He lay down on the seat and put his chin on his paws. She could tell he was upset. She spoke to him in soft, rea.s.suring tones. He cowered but let her collar, leash, and muzzle him. His posture of misery broke Hope's heart as the man half-led, half-dragged him away.

"Nothing better happen to him," Hope told Josh.

He smiled. "Don't worry. We're not a bunch of animals here. He'll have a warm, dry place to sleep, food and water. You've got enough credit already to see to his upkeep for a long time."

"You keep talking about credit," said Hope. "What do you mean?"

"Living here at the Casino isn't without expense to you. A bunk will cost you one chip per day. So will a basic meal. Spending more chips gets you better accomodations, better food. You can sell anything you've brought with you to the Casino and be issued a commensurate number of chips."

"So it's just money?"

Josh nodded. "Exactly. Just the way things were before. You can even trade information and skills for chips, so don't give anything away that you could sell."

"I see." There was something desperate about a fledgling capitalist society attempting to thrive in the middle of so much nothingness, like whoever was behind it was doing anything to hold onto the old ways when the world had swallowed them whole. Hope felt her defensive nature rise. It seemed illusory, like the false fronts on the Old West buildings she'd seen back in Nowhere, New Mexico. That felt like an entire lifetime ago. On the other hand, the few people she'd seen so far looked healthy and well-fed. They also seemed to be well-armed, which made her feel safer knowing the Righteous Flame was still out there burning the corpse of the world into ashes behind her. "So how am I doing?"

"Functional car, stocked with supplies and a huge amount of fuel. That alone is worth a thousand credits. I don't know how Mr. Duce will want to handle the pregnancy. I've sent word to him," said Josh. "Do you want to relinquish your vehicle and supplies?"

"You can take the food," said Hope. "I've got enough to share around, at least for now. Besides, I need to pay for Fidel's care, right?"

"The dog? Yes, of course. A credit per day for him."

"I guess give me credit for the food and leave everything else alone for now. I can always change my mind later, right?"

Josh smiled. "Of course." He totaled up the items on the typed sheet. "The food is worth thirty credits."

"Okay."

Josh and the other man rounded up Hope's cans of food in a shopping cart and showed them to her so she could see they hadn't taken anything else. Josh handed her a stack of one-dollar poker chips. "There's one more thing. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to surrender any weapons. We have a strict policy against them in the Casino."

"Except for you guys, I take it?" Hope pulled the Shepherds' pistol from her pocket with two fingers. She checked to make sure both bullets were still in the cylinder.

"It's important to maintain security," said Josh. "There are some dangerous elements about in the world nowadays."

Hope snorted, choking off a gasp of laughter. She handed Josh the weapon and the wheelchair woman typed up a receipt.

"Would you like a second copy of all your receipts, Miss?" asked the wheelchair woman.

"How much?"

"No charge for you."

Hope shrugged and handed the receipts back to the woman. A look of concern crossed Josh's face. "Margaret..." he said.

The typewriter keys clacked in quick rhythm. "I don't have to charge her if I don't want to," said the woman. "She's going to have a baby, Josh. She'll need every chip she can get."

"That's up to you," said Josh.

Margaret set the typewriter on the sidewalk beside her chair. "I'm taking the rest of the day off to show this young lady around."

Josh shrugged. "That's up to you, but if anyone else comes in, you won't be paid."

"Look out there." Margaret gestured toward the blowing snow. "n.o.body's coming in. Not in this." She spun around to face Hope. "Come inside and warm up, dear."

Hope took a last, longing look at The Way as one of Josh's men slipped behind the wheel and drove it toward an underground parking garage. She missed Nur and Rae more than ever, and being away from Fidel's faithful companionship was like having a hole in her heart. A hand on her arm made her jump.

"It'll be all right," said Margaret. "You have a receipt. You can get it back anytime you want. Come, walk with me."

"All right," said Hope. "Do you want me to push you?"

"You don't have to, but you can."

Hope rested her hands on the wheelchair's handles and followed Margaret into the Casino doors.

From a couple years spent stripping in Nevada, Hope had a fair idea of what to expect inside the building. The atmosphere was dark but not very smoky except for an underlying tobacco tang. She saw three tables crowded with people around them, gambling. One looked like poker, another like blackjack, and the last had a roulette wheel. A dozen slot machines flashed bright and played enticing music. People sat in front of several, plugging chips into the slots as fast as they could pull the levers. A pair of tired-looking waitresses in ill-fitting bustiers and miniskirts brought drinks and food to gamblers from the harried-looking bartender. Chips pa.s.sed back and forth between patrons, exchanged for goods, pieces of paper. A few transactions resulted in both male buyers and female sellers disappearing into the recesses of the hotel together.

"This is amazing," said Hope as she half-pushed, half-followed Margaret along the dark green carpet. "It's like nothing's changed."

"Mr. Duce believes that a return to normalcy is the best way to survive in this new world."

"But why is everyone gambling?"

"They hope to better their lives, of course," said a new, masculine voice.

Hope turned to see a brawny man dressed in a white tuxedo jacket with a silk rose clipped to his lapel. His graying hair and neatly-trimmed beard made him look distinguished, and he was the cleanest person Hope had seen since the end of the world. He smiled at her, showing perfect teeth that looked as if they'd been subjected to numerous chemical whitening treatments.

"How do you do, Miss? I'm Zane Duce. Welcome to my world."

Chapter Thirty-One.