Makara gave another sigh, but this one was out of exasperation. “Marcus, you’re going to have to let the past be the past. Give Char a chance to redeem himself. We don’t have time for bickering.”
Marcus held a hand on his pistol at his side. “I promise nothing. I hate Char. I hate him with everything I’ve got. And he will pay for what he did.”
Marcus’s face was passive, betraying no emotion, though I could feel the anger boiling beneath. For twelve years, he had nursed it. And it wasn’t going away until he did something about it.
“I don’t know how to handle this,” Makara said, shaking her head. “Since the Raiders are already by the gate, you just might have to camp somewhere else.”
Marcus’s face reddened. “That’s the treatment I get? After agreeing to help you?”
“This isn’t helping,” I said. “How are any of us supposed to work together if we can’t even camp in the same spot?”
Neither Marcus nor Makara answered as both Samuel and Anna walked up.
“We’ve finished loading the first of the bikes,” Samuel said. He looked at Michael, offering a hand. “Samuel Neth.”
“Michael Sanchez.”
“We need to get moving,” Makara said, her tone insistent. “It’ll be dark in a couple of hours, and I have to babysit two grown men to make sure they don’t kill each other.”
“Makara,” Marcus began, “the Exiles will get priority over the Raiders. We joined you first. I will not have my brother…”
“Marcus,” Makara said, dangerously, “we can talk about this when we land. You brothers will have to get along. If you don’t, this group will rip apart before it even has the chance to take off.”
Marcus fell into silence, crossing his arms. He was not happy.
“We’ll put down somewhere distant,” Makara finally said in the silence that followed. “Maybe half a mile from the walls, but not right next to the Raiders.”
“You’ll be out of range of our turrets,” Michael said. “Trust me. You don’t want that.”
“Actually, I think I do,” Makara said. “I don’t trust anyone in Vegas until I can get guarantees.”
“We’re not going to shoot you,” Michael said. “For one, I’ll make sure of that. And secondly, we need all the help we can get. The Great Blight has been getting rather nasty lately. If you are outside the range of our turrets, it will leave you open to attack.”
Makara eyed Michael, unhappy with what he was telling her.
“The Raiders and the Exiles will just have to live in peace, then.”
Marcus growled, but said nothing.
“Can you arrange a meeting between me and the other gang lords?” Makara asked.
“I will let Boss Dragon know,” Michael said. “Although every gang in Vegas will know about you within minutes of your landing. Each one will want to meet with you personally.”
“I don’t have time for that. Can’t I just meet them all at the same time?”
Michael smiled grimly. “There aren’t too many summits, these days. Things are near a snapping point, and most think there’ll be another gang war soon.”
“I don’t care,” Makara said. “I have to get these gangs focused not on each other, but focused on what matters. This city will be dead in a matter of weeks — maybe days. The Great Blight is preparing its next move.”
Michael nodded. “If I go to Boss Dragon personally about this, he might be persuaded. He’s mediated such meetings before. We can take you inside the city to meet him.”
Makara frowned. “I don’t like that idea. I’d rather he come out to meet me.”
“That won’t happen,” Michael said.
Makara sighed. “We’ll figure this out. What gangs are there in the city?”
“Well,” Michael said, “The Dragons are only one of six. There are the Kings, the Reds, the Sworn, the Diamonds, and the Suns.”
“And now, the Angels,” I said.
“And if you count the Exiles and the Raiders, that makes nine total,” Anna said.
No one said anything, pausing to the think of the repercussions of having nine violent gangs around one another.
“This is going to be a bloodbath, isn’t it?” I asked.
“Let’s go,” Makara said.
With that command, everyone moved to Odin.
Chapter 6
After ferrying the last of the bikes across the gorge, we flew in a straight line northwest. The beginning of the city’s outskirts passed below, a maze of crumbling, gray buildings, houses, and roads scattered with rubble. In the distance rose dozens of skyscrapers, shadows against the darkening sky — the remains of the Vegas strip. Those lights had been out for thirty years, now. The buildings, roads, and city lay before us in a sprawled grid, completely empty save for abandoned vehicles and debris that cluttered the streets. The entire city had stopped in one moment, frozen in time, left to rot — to be buried in dust.
Makara landed Odin north of a large interstate interchange, right in the center of a cleared highway. Dust shifted on the smooth concrete, covering mangled green road signs with red sand. Dilapidated buildings and department stores lined both sides of the highway, their broken windows, lack of paint, and bare appearance reminding me of skeletons. Graffiti coated the buildings’ sides, florid letters in colors of purple, green, and red. The sun appeared as a red blotch to the west through the dust, sinking behind a tall skyscraper.
Ahead and to the north lay what Michael referred to as the Sunset Gate. A mountain of rubble rose before us, walling out the abandoned outskirts of town and sheltering what remained of Vegas itself — the tall buildings of the Strip, to our northeast, along with its surrounding blocks. The gate was a massive wooden construction, similar to the one I had seen guarding Raider Bluff. To open, it would slide to the side, its large wheels on a track. The gate guarded the northbound side of the highway, while rubble completely blocked off the southbound lanes. On either side of the gate rose wooden towers, where turrets had been set up. Men stood there, watching us.
We stepped off the ship. In the distance, we heard the rumble of the Exiles’ engines approaching. While we waited for them to arrive, the sun fell, covering the land in darkness.
Michael stood off a way, speaking on his radio. He was trying to figure out when, or if, we could come inside the walls.
The Exiles pulled up in a collective roar of engines, and parked their bikes along the overpass’s railing. One by one, the bikes were shut off, and the men began setting up camp. As tents went up and a bonfire was built, I marveled at their efficiency. I just wondered where they had kept all these supplies.
I noticed that some of the men spoke together in groups and looked off toward the south. A short way out from the overpass were a couple hundred tents, in the midst of which burned dozens of separate fires. It was the Raiders’ camp. Surrounding the whole thing was a crude, wooden fence that had been raised in a hurry.
Makara, too, stared off in that direction. For the first time in three months, she was going to see Char.
When our own fire was lit, Michael turned from his position and approached us.
“They’re not sending anyone out tonight,” he said. “Likely, they’ll organize a summit to decide what to do about you, first.”
“I need to meet with all of them as soon as possible,” Makara said. “This can’t wait.”
“That will happen, but you have to give them time to react to this,” Michael said. “I mean, a spaceship and thirty fighting men have just landed outside their walls. Wouldn’t you be surprised if that happened?”
Makara gave a noncommittal grunt. “There is no time for waiting. The Great Blight is moving, and won’t pause for anyone. Can’t we go in tonight? Not me, personally — I have to meet with Char.”