Hope And Undead Elvis Part 21

Hope and The Deuce "May I offer you something to drink or eat? A comfortable place to sit?" Zane Duce opened a cabinet to reveal a large, fully-stocked wet bar. He poured himself two fingers of an amber liquid from a crystalline decanter and held it up to the light, admiring its color.

Hope already understood the rules of this game. Even though she wanted nothing more than to eat, bathe, and sleep for the next year, she wasn't going to accept anything without knowing the price tag attached to it. "How much?"

Duce laughed, a deep, infectious chuckle that cut through tension. "Very good, young lady. You're learning that nothing's free in this world. Except when Zane Duce says it is, of course. And I'm offering you comfort free of charge. You've got something that I can't put a price tag on, my dear." He gestured to her belly.

She place a protective hand over the bulge. Being around Nur and Rae had been one thing, but here she was surrounded by strangers and she didn't want anyone poking or prodding her. She'd had enough of her baby being used as a weapon against her at the convent. That was a trauma she wasn't anxious to relive, even at a much higher level of comfort. "I'd love a cup of something hot to drink," Hope said.

"Come with me and I'll make that happen."

Margaret wheeled herself around Duce. "Come find me later, dear," she said. "I'm the only one on wheels here. Somebody will know where I am."

"I will," said Hope.

Duce guided her around the edge of the gaming floor to a comfortable lounge away from the noise of the tables and slot machines. He arranged to have some extra pillows brought so Hope could arrange herself as comfortably as possible on a couch, and he himself brought her a steaming mug of hot chocolate. "It's instant, I'm afraid. All we have on hand at the moment," he said. "I keep hoping a salvage crew will run across a grocery warehouse or trailer somewhere."

"You have crews out wandering the world?"

"What's left of it. We must survive here as we strive to rebuild a new, better civilization."

Hope sipped at the chocolate. It was weak and watery, but the warmth reached down to her toes and settled her baby's wiggling. "I see you've already brought back vice," she said.

Duce chuckled. "Where were you when the world ended?"

Hope paused. "In a bar. Playing cards."

"Before things changed, we took every day for granted. There would be light, heat, water, and food. Now, we must strive for each and every one of those things. The business of survival is hard work, as I'm sure you're aware. It's been a long time since everything went wonky. It can drive people a little crazy to have lost that which they spent their lives ignoring."

"I can't argue with that."

"When the world crashed, I was right here, running my casino. I got the staff together and organized everyone who was left. At first, I thought perhaps inst.i.tuting martial law would be the solution, but the people who'd remained didn't respond well to force or implications of it. So I improvised."

"I see." Hope finished her hot chocolate. Her stomach rumbled but there didn't seem to be any food forthcoming. She decided to wait it out. She'd been hungry before.

"America was once a great capitalist nation, and it will be once again. And I've seen to it that it will start here."

Hope smiled. "Should I salute you or something?"

Duce laughed again. Hope realized that she disliked it when he was amused. Also, something about the way his eyes narrowed made him look like he was sizing her up. What was a pregnant woman worth in the world now?

And what would she be worth after the baby was born?

Duce poured himself another drink. The woody alcohol scent made Hope's nostrils twitch. "Americans understand a capitalistic economy. They do work, they get paid for it, then they can spend what they earn."

"Or gamble it away."

Duce shrugged. "It's a casino. I already have those resources available to me. I've just branched out into other economic areas. Salvage. Food production. Energy."

"What happens when someone runs out of chips? Do you put them out into the cold?"

"Not at all." Duce drank. The dark red wine left a lasting stain on his lips. "We're not monsters here. Even those who are broke can contribute to the well-being of all. Everybody works somewhere."

Hope didn't miss that he didn't expound further upon that. She wondered what somewhere meant. Whatever it was, she was sure it was unpleasant, and she would do her best to avoid it. "So you've set up your kingdom here, and your people are happy and content and thriving. What's so special about me?"

"You said we're thriving." Duce set down his empty gla.s.s and crossed his legs in a way Hope wished she still could. "The truth is, we're only growing through immigration, not breeding. There are fifty-eight women here. At least forty of them are of the age to be able to bear children, but we've not had a single pregnancy reported yet."

"So they're all crossing their legs."

"I can personally vouch that that's not the case with all of them."

Hope s.h.i.+vered. She wondered if his knowledge had come with consent from willing partners. "Pregnancy's a funny thing, I guess. Conditions have to be right."

"Perhaps so, but it's very odd that although my people are living, working, and s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g each other, they're not breeding. We're all dying a little bit every day. And not a single woman has managed to achieve the remarkable feat which you have."

"I don't know what to tell you, Mr. Duce. Maybe it's just not meant to be." Hope decided at that moment not to mention Rae's pregnancy at all. Duce was so obsessed with the idea that she wouldn't be at all surprised if he'd order a salvage party to go find her friend and bring her back.

"Nevertheless, you're the first fertile woman I've encountered since the world ended, and that makes you a singularly valuable commodity. I want you to stay here. Deliver your baby in the warmth and safety of this island of civilization amid the wilderness. Raise your child here. Select a man. Any man. Bear his children." He pointed at her. "You can be the mother of the future."

"I'm not just a baby machine."

"I'm not suggesting that at all. I'm offering you a singular opportunity."

"No." She crossed her arms. She'd met men like Duce before in the clubs. They were the sort who believed the sun rose and set on their c.o.c.ks, and that they were G.o.d's gift to women everywhere. They were also the sort who didn't see anything wrong with using their fists to impose order on their women.

"I'll make it worth your while."

"That just makes me a wh.o.r.e. You want to take that back? Because I'll take my f.u.c.king chips and leave you high and dry here, Mr. Duce, and then where will you be?"

He rose, fists clenched. "You're threatening me here in my own palace?"

Hope struggled to her feet. "I don't need this s.h.i.+t. I'm out of here. Good luck when the Flame arrives." She turned to go.

"Wait..."

She stopped by the door to the lounge and looked back. Duce had flopped into a chair with his head in his hands. "Well?"

"I'm sorry. G.o.d, I don't know what came over me just then. I'm so desperate to see my people grow and instead all they're doing is dying. It seems like we're digging a new grave every few days. People need hope. And without children, without babies, what do they have to live for?"

"I don't know," said Hope. She hadn't thought about it before, but she hadn't seen a single child since the world ended. Before that, even, she'd been in an industry where children were rarities. And yet, she remembered when a former dancer had brought her baby by a club for a visit, and all the girls had cooed over the fat little tyke. Even Hope had taken a turn holding the infant, amazed that something so precious could come from a woman who'd worked the after-midnight s.h.i.+fts because drunk guys weren't as particular about their strippers' looks. The simple act of having a child had brought an uncommon beauty to the young woman and a happiness Hope had never understood. Now that she had a new life growing within her, she was beginning to understand it, and how the lack of children could drive people a little crazy.

Duce looked up at her. "If we can't grow as a population, things won't ever get any better. We'll just be a footnote in the appendix of what used to be the world."

"Look, I'll think it over, all right? That's all I can promise right now."

"I suppose that's better than a sharp stick in the eye," said Duce. "While you're here, I promise that you won't pay a single token. You are my special guest and the Casino will cover any charges. Is there anything you need?"

"I want to see my dog," said Hope. "I don't like that he's being locked away."

"I'll have him brought up to you. As long as you keep him leashed and take him outside to do his business, I can make a policy exception for you."

"You're all heart, Mr. Duce."

"Please, call me Zane. And you're Hope, yes? Hope what?"

"Just Hope. I'd like my dog now, please, and I'm very tired. I need to rest before I pa.s.s along my information."

Duce stiffened. "What information is that?"

Hope smiled. "The information that you will definitely want to know after I get some sleep."

"Nothing's going to happen to you."

"I know," said Hope. "Because I'm your guest. I'll talk to you later, Mr. Duce."

"Please, call me Zane," he said. "You said something about flame or fire before. Is that it?"

Hope ignored him and left the office. She felt that she would be happier on one of the large couches in the lounge nearby while waiting for Fidel to be returned to her. At one time, the couches would have faced large televisions showing all manner of sporting events, but now the dark, silent TVs stared back at her like blank, accusing faces. Why had she been so short with Duce? He seemed like he was sincere in his desire to help his people.

His people, thought Hope. He was the king here. The ruler. He controlled the Casino, both economically through his chips and militarily through his organized, armed soldiers. The man had set himself up as a little tin G.o.d, and that seemed the most likely reason why he rubbed Hope the wrong way. Just wait until he tried to lord himself over her. He'd learn there were things far worse than the sharp stick in the eye he'd mentioned. Most of the clubs she'd worked didn't have any bouncers to keep patrons from groping the girls. She had her repertoire of stripper-taught tricks to discourage potential rapists.

A joyous bark drove thoughts of Duce from her mind as Josh brought Fidel over to her. The dog strained at his leash and his tiny stump tail shook so hard that Hope wouldn't have been surprised if it flew away. "You've got some pull with Mr. Duce," said Josh as he handed Hope the end of the leash. "Don't waste that currency."

"Thanks."

Fidel put his paws up on Hope's belly and laid his head between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, staring up into her eyes. She threw her arms around his furry back and held him against her. The baby must have sensed his presence as well, for Hope felt a foot kick out toward Fidel.

She heard a sniffle and looked up to see tears in Josh's eyes. "I had a dog... Before..."

Hope felt a lump in her throat. "I'm sorry."

The momentary weakness vanished from Josh's face and the professional mask settled over his features once again. "Don't be. Mr. Duce wanted me to remind you that you need to keep hold of your dog at all times while inside the Casino, and you will be charged for any messes he makes inside the building."

"I understand," said Hope. "But you don't need to worry. Fidel is a very good dog." She could almost hear Nur say although he is a very poor Muslim.

She didn't think Josh would find the humor in that.

"Hey, before you go..." Josh s.h.i.+fted back and forth from foot to foot. Having discharged his obligation to Duce, he seemed much less professional. There was a child-like vulnerability behind that neatly-cropped beard that was far more refres.h.i.+ng than the false bravado so many men affected.

"Yes?"

"I'm, uh, I hope your baby is healthy."

Hope smiled at him. "That's sweet of you to say. Thank you."

"Listen, um, if you need anything, for you or your dog, let me know. I'll take care of it."

"I will, Josh. Thank you."

He looked like he wanted to say more, but instead he nodded and headed back toward the Casino entrance. His honesty made Hope feel far more at ease than Duce's smooth promises had. She almost went after him, but changed her mind. She could talk to him later.

Instead, she went looking for Margaret. Fidel attracted friendly smiles and ear scratches wherever Hope went. She could see by the way people's faces lit up when they saw her pregnant belly and smiling dog that they'd been living without much cheer.

The first few people she asked hadn't seen Margaret, but the earnest young man with the cracked gla.s.ses and spreaders in his earlobes said he thought she might be in the show.

"Show?" asked Hope.

"It's a Casino," said the man. "They got a show. Cheap entertainment. The Deuce knows you have to keep people entertained so they forget they're unhappy."

"Makes sense," said Hope. "Where is it?"

"Just past the slots, through the lounge, on your left."

Hope thanked the man and headed off, following his directions. As she pa.s.sed through the lounge, she could hear the strains of a familiar song, crooned by a haunting voice.

The song was Kentucky Rain, and the singer was Elvis Presley.

Chapter Thirty-Two.

Hope and Elvis Hope stood in the door to the Casino's small club and stared open-mouthed at the man singing an Elvis song. He wasn't her Elvis; that was plain to see. For one thing, he was shorter and much thinner, more reminiscent of the early Elvis if he'd been malnourished instead of eating fried peanut b.u.t.ter sandwiches. He also didn't look very much like The King, with acne scars on his cheeks and a p.r.o.nounced limp in his step as he moved across the stage. He did have appropriately-styled black hair, sideburns, and some kind of jumpsuit. His voice was very close to what Elvis had sounded like, and each note of Kentucky Rain was like a needle poking into Hope's skin, reminding her of what she'd lost.

When he finished with a bow and a mumbled "thankyouver'much," the dozen people in the audience offered scattered, unenthusiastic applause, and drifted away from the club. Left alone with Fidel, Hope decided that if nothing else, she had to talk to the Elvis impersonator.

He was going through the club, upending chairs and resting them on the tables, clearing away gla.s.ses, and collecting the odd chip left behind. He didn't seem to notice Hope as he worked with his head bowed. She cleared her throat.

He jumped at the sound. "You scared the h.e.l.l out of me!"

"I'm sorry," said Hope. "I wanted to meet you. You're very good."

He shrugged. "I'm okay, but I don't really have any other marketable skills to keep myself in chips."

"Don't sell yourself short. I'd have paid real money to hear you sing, before. I spent my fair share of time in clubs and casinos, and I've seen a lot of lousy Elvises."

He stopped wiping down a table and smiled. "Thanks. I actually worked here before. The Deuce kept me on because he said it would help people to forget some of their troubles."

"Is it working?"

He shrugged. "Maybe once upon a time, but it's not like the show ever changes. Everyone here has seen it and n.o.body really cares. I'll run out of chips sooner or later."