1. Freedome
My hand grips the steering wheel as the evening breeze brushes my face. My arm rests on the semi-broken, rolled-down window flap. I glance over—the passenger window smudged with grime. The Vegas Strip sits in the distance, past old, darkened houses.
Searchlights sweep upward, the thick barred electric fence topped with barbe wire on the top the Regime built around the Strip closer now. I turn my eyes back to the cracked, sand-covered road and adjust my dark leather gambler’s hat. Houses pass by as I drive, swerving carefully around abandoned cars.
My foot hits the brake as I spot a man ten feet to my right, a brownish backpack slung over his shoulder. I pull my arm from the window and rest my hand on my leather holster. He looks back and gives a small wave.
I keep my hand where it is as I slowly roll up beside him, pressing the button to lower the passenger window. The glass slides down with a crust-breaking sound. The man steps closer, the bangs of his brown hair swooped to the left.
“Well, didn’t expect you to stop,” he says, offering a half-smile.
“Yeah, but I can still drive off right now,” I reply, cautious.
His eyes light up. “True. But I haven’t drawn a weapon—and neither have you.” He leans in slightly. Something about his smile tells me he’s not a threat.
I remove my hand from the holster. “Alright, fair. Need a lift?”
He glances into the back of the van. “Yeah. And judging by the looks of things in there, you seem like you could use a job.” His hazel eyes meet mine.
I feel a spark of intrigue. “Alright, hop in.”
The passenger door creaks as he opens it and climbs inside. I ease my foot off the brake.
“So what kind of work are you talking about?” I ask, eyes shifting from the road to him. He clears his throat.
“I’ll be straight with ya. I’ve got a bit of an… unintentional operation going on.” The van rattles as it rolls along the pavement.
“Not all of it is glitz and glam. Honestly, it’ll make more sense once we get to my place.” I hear him fumble with his backpack.
I rest my arm back on the window flap and glance over at him. “Scrounge anything good?” I ask, returning my focus to the road.
The evening sun paints the asphalt and scattered houses in orange. He chuckles.
“Collecting a debt, rather.” I hear the backpack unzip and ease off the gas, glancing over.
My eyes widen. “Damn,” I say, impressed.
“This person must’ve owed you quite a bit.” Inside are stacks of green battery packs and a smaller pile of Regime bills. Whatever this guy is mixed up in, it’s serious.
He zips the backpack shut as my attention returns to the road. “So you got a name? Or something people call you?”
“Jay,” I answer, shifting in my seat. “Yourself?”
“People call me Boss.” I glance over at him.
“Well, Jay, it’s good to meet ya,” he says, a grin spreading across his face. Boss gives me directions to his place.
I turn onto a dirt road, the van rocking back and forth. I slow the van to control it on the road as we disappear into the desert. Houses darkened and spaced out.
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“That’s the place on the left up ahead”, I hear Boss say.
My gaze shifts to the house, “you have working electricity?”
“Sure do, also got an extra mattress if you need to crash or whatever” Boss explains, as I turn onto the drive way.
I can hear the sound of sand crunching as I pull in. I shift in park, look at the house. A simple one story ranch style house, the outside looks slightly decayed the roofs corner sags. Better than what I left.
We pull out of the car, the doors creaking shut. My dirty cowboy boots crunch on the sand as I follow him up to the two step porch. I see Boss turn to me.
He runs a hand through his hair, “ I forgot to mention there are a few others you will meet”. The main door swings open in perfect timing, the lights in the house wash over us.
A woman stands on the other-side of the screen door, her expression unreadable. Her dark greenish blue hair catching the light. I figured she looks young, about 25 or 27.
“Boss, got some of the weapons fixed. But that AK is fucked” she says, her voice slightly gravely.
“Well fuck, here I was thinking the Sampsons got us a gift, that AK alone would have the Regime place big bids” Boss says, I have no idea what they are even talking about.
The woman’s gaze lands on me, her eyes look me up and down. She places a hand on her waist, “who is this? A new member for our fucked family” she asks, her half smile making me a little at ease. Cool evening air lightly wisps through.
“Jay”, I answer as Boss pulls the creaky screen door open, I tip my hat to her. She gives me a look like I'm weird. We step in. A light mix smell of something musty and chemical hit my nostrils.
“Well Jay, I hope you don’t puss the fuck out and leave”, she says to me. Honestly that stung a little.
“I can manage,” I respond. She shakes her head in disbelief.
I look over at Boss, he puts a cigarette in his mouth. “Ignore her, she is just mad she cant shoot worth shit”, he says lighting the cherry with a grimy light blue lighter.
The woman waves a fingerless glove, I believe dismissing him. “Yeah, yeah”, she says, rolling her light blue eyes. The smell of fresh tobacco in the air.
The woman and I follow Boss to a small kitchen, the wall paper old and faded. I take a seat at the small round table. Boss undoes his backpack and places it on the table.
“Ohhh shit, how much did he pay up this time?” she asks, places both hands on the table.
He pulls the cigarette out of his mouth, blows out a light cloud of smoke. “Well he actually paid up, so you can stop asking me for battery packs,” he says, handing her four green battery packs. I lean back in my chair, I see her examine them.
She lets out a satisfied laugh, “damn four month packs, I’m gonna make these last!”
Boss fishes in his back pack, takes a drag of his cigarette. “For your trouble Jay”, he slides two battery packs at me; smoke lazily leaving his mouth.
I take them, my thumbs graze the green plastic cover. I put them in the pocket of my dirty jeans, maybe I can trade these for a bottle of whiskey? I don’t know.
“Thanks”, I say to him, I hear the screen door crash open. I see Boss and Fixer turn there attention to the kitchen entrance.
I turn in my seat. Clump Clump Creak, I hear heavy footsteps coming closer. A man, very broad ducks in the kitchen. Cigar in his mouth, a dark beret rests on his head. The lenses of the goggles he wore gleam in the bleak yellow light, his Duster tattered at the ends. My gaze lands on a dark blue grimy duffle bag.
“Jobs done, she paid up”, the man says in a way that I read as him controlling his tone. Boss walks over and takes the bag from him.
“Damn, Wired good fucking job” he walks out and the tall Wired guy and Fixer follow.
I get up and exit the kitchen, and follow them to the living room. I look around, mattresses lay against the back wall. The faded blue wall paper peeling, wood panels exposed. My eyes return to Boss, and the Wired guy.
Boss looks at me, “Oh shit, sorry Jay.. Wired, this is Jay.” He says, Wired whose back was to me, turns.
He puffs out smoke and extends a hand, his expression still calm.
“Well Jay good to meet you” he says. I take his hand and shake it, damn his grip on my hand was strong.
“You too” I respond, and we release our hands.
I hear Boss snap his finger taking a drag, “ How about you take Jay tomorrow to collect that Debt from that son of a bitch Weston, would be a perfect opportunity for you to show Jay the ropes” he exclaims smoke leaving his mouth. My first job, ok cool.
Wired stares at me, I can feel his eyes on me behind those dark lensed goggles. I get it, I’m new bla bla bla. He puffs another cloud of smoke.
“We leave at six A.M. sharp, no more no less”, he says the cherry of his cigar burning another orange. I lean on the door frame, and nod.
“Well damn Jay, I guess I owe you an apology” I hear Fixer say, I glance her way. She has her foot and back against the wall next to Boss. Giving me a smug smile, man this bitch.
“I’ll honk once, be ready”, Wired explains.
He looks at Boss, nods and I step aside for him to get by. I like this actually, first job. Who am I to complain!
Boss sighs, crushing his cigarette “Well lets see the goods”, Boss says.
Well why not, I adjust my hat. leather was ruff, and follow Boss and Fixer back to the kitchen.
