Homefront: The Voice of Freedom (19 page)

“Don’t you think by now the number of repaired radios would be pretty high?”

The sheriff shrugged. “Maybe.”

Kopple looked at Hennings and asked, “So what now, Captain?”

Hennings scanned the eager faces of his men. “Okay, we’ll stay a few days. We’ll meet here in Harrah’s lobby once each morning after the breakfast hours at 0930 starting tomorrow. By the end of the week, though, I’m going to want to move on.”

As they walked outside, Kopple looked at Walker and asked, “What are you going to do?”

“I think I’m going over to Caesars and find me a room where I can shower, shave, and relax. Then I’m gonna hit the tables. What about you?”

The sergeant coughed and answered, “Probably the same, except I’m gonna sleep in a real bed for the next twelve hours or so.
Then
I may hit the tables.”

They shook hands. “See you around then.”

Walker held a hand up to his brow to shield his eyes from the blistering sun and crossed the street. Inside Caesars lobby, he immediately felt the heavy warmth and stuffiness of the place, but it was better than being outside. A white-haired woman in her sixties or seventies standing behind the old Reception desk handed him a paper fan. He noticed everyone he saw had one and was using it. Behind her on the wall
was a huge whiteboard with room numbers and names written on a grid.

“I’ll bet you want a room with a shower,” she said, eyeing him up and down.

“That would be lovely.”

“First two floors are full. There are some empty rooms on the third and fourth. The higher you go, the hotter it is, so I don’t recommend anything above the fourth, but it’s up to you. And you have to take the stairs. Elevators don’t work.”

Walker pointed to an empty space on the whiteboard. “Is 322 taken?”

“Nope.”

“I guess that’s mine, then.”

She asked for his name and then wrote it on the space.

“There are no keys. They used to be electronic, you know, so we’re all on the honor system. You don’t go in anyone else’s room unless you’re invited. Anyone caught doing so is immediately evicted and reported to the sheriff’s office.”

“Gotcha.”

She picked up a fan and used it on herself as she smiled and batted her eyes. For an older woman, she still had a good figure. Walker thought she might have once been a showgirl.

“Oh, and there’s no maid service, obviously,” she said. “You’ll find linens and such on a table near the elevators on each floor. You’re allowed to wash the linens and your clothes by hand in the basement once a week. Or you can use your bathtub any time you want.”

“Thank you very much.”

“I bet you want some fresh clothes?”

“Is that possible?”

“We have T-shirts and shorts and flip-flops. We
charge you in chips but since you don’t have any yet, I can give you the clothes now on credit and a starter set of chips—the first ten are free.”

Walker was flabbergasted. “Are you for real?”

“I’m afraid so.” She went back into the office and returned with a box of ten red chips, T-shirt, shorts, flip-flops, and a one-page contract. “I guessed your size. Bring ’em back if they don’t fit. Sign here; it says you owe us twenty chips for the clothes.”

He did so gladly.

“You in the army?” the woman asked.

He was still wearing a Marine uniform. “No. I was traveling with a National Guard unit.”

She held out a hand for him to shake. “Enjoy your stay at Caesars Palace, buddy. You’ll be a nice-looking fella after a bath and a shave.”

   Six hours later, after that shower and shave, and the best nap he’d ever had, Walker went downstairs in his new T-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops. Ten casino chips were burning a hole in his pocket.

Aside from the modern dress of the occupants, the scene in the casino was like something out of eightteenth- and nineteenth-century paintings of gambling parlors. The entire room was lit by candles that basked the dealers and players in a soft, magical glow. Shadows danced across the high ceiling. Most of the old Caesars Palace pseudo-Ancient Roman decor was still intact, which, combined with the lighting, created an other-worldly effect that conjured up a time and place long forgotten. Gone was the cacophony of slot machine noise; in its place was a subdued, almost tranquil, ambience. A jazz quartet even played acoustic instruments on a stage at one end of the vast hall.

No wonder the residents spend their time in the old
casinos
, Walker thought. Compared to what he’d experienced since January, this
was
paradise.

He toured the room and watched players at craps, roulette, and blackjack and poker tables. Some high-rollers played baccarat. Walker finally settled on taking a seat at an empty blackjack table, behind which stood a tall, gorgeous female dealer. The brunette appeared to be in her early thirties and wore a T-shirt and shorts like everyone else. Walker thought the shape of her body was exquisite.

“Is there a minimum bet?” he asked.

“Two chips,” she answered and held his eye. “New here?”

“Just arrived today.” He placed two chips in front of him on the table and she dealt cards. Walker had a six showing and a five underneath. He asked for a card and was given a three.

“Not many people
come
to Las Vegas anymore, they mostly leave,” she said. “How did you get here?”

“With a National Guard unit. Card.”

“You a Guardsman?”

“Nope.” She dealt him a four. He waved his hand. She turned her hidden card, revealing two face cards.

“Twenty,” she said.

“Aw, shucks,” he said as she flipped over his five.

“Eighteen. Too bad.” She took his two chips. He placed two more on the table.

“So you just hitched a ride with them, or what?”

“More or less. I’m a journalist. From LA.”

She dealt the cards. He had a face card hidden and a two showing.

“I hear it’s pretty bad there.”

“When I left it was. It’s not so bad here. In fact, it’s pretty nice. Card.”

She shrugged and dealt him an eight. “We’re surviving.”
He waved his hand and she revealed her cards. “Nineteen.” She flipped his and made a face of approval. “Twenty. That’s two I owe you.” She gave them to him.

“Made my money back. What’s your name?”

“Kelsie. Kelsie Wilcox.” She held out her hand and he shook it.

“Ben Walker.”

“Nice to meet you, Ben.”

When she dealt the next hand, Walker made note that she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

   The casinos shut down during the meal hours so everyone had a chance to eat. Walker asked Wilcox to accompany him to the communal mess hall and “show him the ropes.” He had won a total of forty-two chips at the blackjack table, tipped her seven, and walked out with thirty-five, which she guaranteed was more than enough to buy a meal.

The mess hall was a large circus tent, under which rows of picnic tables could seat over a hundred people. On one side of the space was a buffet line of sorts where customers could order whatever was available, pay for it in chips, and take a plate to a table. The evening’s fare consisted of oatmeal; a variety of fresh fruit; tossed salad with lettuce, carrots, cucumbers, and tomatoes; and vegetable lasagna cooked over a fire. For dessert one could have watermelon or s’mores—melted marshmallow and chocolate between two graham crackers.

“I have to say,” Walker commented as he and Wilcox grabbed seats in the crowded space, “you people have really done something incredible. I can’t believe how you’ve managed to make lemonade out of lemons, so to speak.”

Kelsie smiled. “It’s kind of like what my Grandma
Wilcox did when she was young. She was one of those hippies you read about, you know, the teenagers with long hair that lived in communes in the sixties? She once told me all about living on a farm and having free sex and stuff. She ran around with rock musicians and smoked marijuana. Loved the Grateful Dead and Jefferson Airplane.”

Walker laughed. “Geez, Jefferson Airplane. I haven’t heard about them in ages. She sounds like a cool grandma.”

“Yeah. She passed away in 2003. She contracted MS when she was in her forties. Her last decade of life was pretty awful. It was sad.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. You know, Sheriff Mack does a great job. I love the guy. We all do. I think he knows everyone in town by name.” She took a bite and said, “So tell me about your experience so far. I want to hear about it.”

Walker shook his head. “Not tonight. I’ve been through a lot of crap. But I’ll tell you about it if you’re still talking to me tomorrow.”

She laughed. “Was that a pick-up line or something?”

“No! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.” He turned away, embarrassed. “I meant if I’m still
here
, if I
see
you tomorrow, if you don’t decide you can’t stand me
tonight
 … I didn’t mean—”

Wilcox laughed again and touched his smooth cheek. “Don’t worry, I got it. I’m kidding you.”

At that moment Walker was struck by how naturally lovely she was. Her large brown eyes exhibited intelligence and wit, and her full lips betrayed a hint of desire. She was taller than him by an inch or so, and he hoped that didn’t matter to her. Her fingers on his recently-shaved face felt wonderful.

“Tell me about you, Kelsie. Are you from Vegas?”

“No, not originally. Believe it or not, I’m from Houston, Texas.”

“You don’t have a Texas accent.”

“Nah, I lost it somewhere after we moved. When I was twelve, my dad lost his job and we started moving around a lot. I think I must have lived in fifteen different states in the next six years. As soon as I turned eighteen, I left. We were in Chicago at the time. But I graduated from high school, even though I spent it going to six different schools, and I went to college at MIT.”

“MIT! Jesus, are you some kind of genius? One of those Mensa chicks?”

“Now
that’s
a pick-up line!” she snorted endearingly. Walker loved the way the skin around her eyes crinkled when she laughed. “No, no, I’m no genius. Well, I mean, I earned good grades and was on scholarship, if that counts. That was the only way I could go to MIT.”

“What did you study? Quantum physics?”

“Dream on. Electrical engineering.”

“You’re kidding.”

She shook her head and smiled wryly. “And here I am dealing blackjack at a casino in Las Vegas.”

“Well, what happened?”

“Life happened. The bad economy happened. The price of oil went up. You
know
what happened.”

“How did you come to be in Vegas?”

“Well. I
thought
I had a job, at Hoover Dam no less. I
did
have a job. I moved to Boulder City and was all prepared to start work—when the U.S. Bureau of Reclamation cut seventy percent of the jobs. Naturally, all the newbies got axed. I was left high and dry. So I came to Vegas and got a job at Caesars Palace. That was just before
it
went under.
Even when the city started going down the toilet, I stayed. And then the Koreans invaded. Now I work for the city’s reorganized Casino Management Company. The mayor and some other like-minded individuals got together and presented this wacky plan to the people—use casino chips for currency and rebuild the town communally. It smells of socialism, but you know what? It’s working.”

“Obviously. I wish there was a way to show the rest of America what you’re doing. It would be very inspiring.”

“But I am using my electrical engineering skills in other ways.”

“How’s that?”

“I’m part of the team that’s working on restoring the city’s power grid. I do that when I’m not at the blackjack table.”

“Any progress on that?”

She shook her head. “It’s going slow. We don’t have enough experienced people.”

Walker had a thought. “Say, do you know anything about radios?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know,
radios
. Like what the sheriff has in his office. AM/FM. Broadcasting.”

“Do you mean the physical object? How to build one?” Walker wasn’t sure if that’s what he meant, but it sounded good. He nodded and she smiled. “Funny you ask. One of my class projects in school was to build a radio from scratch. So, yeah, I know how to do that. Providing I have the parts.”

“Are there parts to be had in the city?”

“There’s a communal depot for salvaging electrical components near the hospital, a few blocks north of here. I thought about working there, too, but I figured they could use me more efficiently on the power
grid. Anyway, that’s where people are bringing appliances and stuff to try and get fixed. There are also a couple of places in town where they fix cars.”

“I’ve noticed some folks driving around.” He slapped his head. “Boggles the mind!”

She laughed again. “Why do you ask? About the radio, I mean.”

“An idea I have brewing. I’ll tell you about it later.” He looked at her plate. “You done?”

“Yeah. I have to get back to the casino.”

“Well, come on, I have to win some more chips.”

They walked to Caesars Palace together. The sun was setting; despite the absence of the classic Las Vegas neon skyline, the Strip was beautiful.

“Where do you live?” he asked.

“At Caesars.”

“What floor?”

“Is that a pick-up line?” She laughed at her own joke, but he could hear the flirtation in her voice.

SEPTEMBER 17, 2025

I haven’t made a journal entry in a few weeks. Maybe it’s just not what I’m into anymore. I have other things on my mind
.

Like … I’m in love. That’s right, me, Ben Walker, am head over heels in love with a woman named Kelsie Wilcox. I met her last month when the National Guard unit I was traveling with passed through Las Vegas. I was expecting Vegas to be a real dump after everything that’s gone on in the country, but boy, was I surprised. Las Vegas is friggin’ heaven! Not only have they got their shit together in Vegas—of all places—but that’s where I met
her.

She’s tall—taller than me—and she’s gorgeous—better looking than me—and intelligent—a helluva lot smarter than me. We live together in a room at the old Caesars Palace hotel casino. After a month of awkward “dating” (do people still use that word?), she moved in with me. And I can’t believe it, but it’s working. After my divorce with Rhonda, I never thought I’d have another serious relationship, but that’s what it’s turning out to be. God, we get along, we make each other laugh, and the sex is incredible
!