Good Night, Vegas Lights

Chapter 8

  Vincent woke up later lying in the dirt with a splitting headache. There was a heavy sensation around his throat. A quick investigation told him what it was. A slave collar. That was certainly new. His coat was now gone. Which was disappointing considering he'd made it himself. Around him he could see others carrying away rebar and cement. That wreckage must be around here somewhere... It wasn't in Vince's nature to obediently follow orders, but he realized there was no reason to fight it at this point. A nearby woman gave him a cross look.
  "What are you lookin' at?"
For a moment she didn't respond, but she eventually broke the growing silence.
  "If you don't want to be ripped apart by dogs, I'd recommend getting to work. Your already on the Wardens's shit list."
He had questions, but before he could even open his mouth the woman had moved on. He walked in the direction people were coming from only to find a humungous pile of rubble blocking the entrance of a building. There was sliver of space where only one other man worked, so Vincent decided to start there. He stood next to the man and stared at the pile.
  "So what exactly should we be doing?"
Vincent asked aloud hoping the man would answer his question. The man, who was inherently skinny, snapped his head towards Vince.
  "You were over there passed out weren't ch'ya? I thought ya were dead fo' sure"
It wasn't until now that Vincent realized the man was a druggie, for his speech and face were twitchy.
  "Uh- Yeah"
  "Only tha new 'er disobedient slaves get stuck over here. Ya
look like both."
The accusation angered Vincent a tad, but he pushed away the frustration.
  "The name's Vince"
The twitchy man smiled and held out his hand.
  "People call me Tick. I ain't no blood sucking bug, I just don't stop ticking is all."
Vincent warily shook his hand.
  "So... Tick... What are we supposed to be doing?"
  "Oh we just carry this junk over to the fill, seems easy but it ain't. This shit weighs a ton, plus every once and a while the pile will get upset and slide. Couple 'a slaves usually get crushed when that happens."
  "The fill?"
Tick pointed the direction where the slaves holding wreckage were walking.
  "Its a big ole hole just thataway. The Wardens dug it to get rid of shit. Wreckage, trash, the dead..."
  "The dead?"
  "Yup. Don't matter who, but its mostly slaves that are in there. We ain't got enough time to dig graves."
Tick picked up a slab of cement.
  "Grab somethin' and I'll show ya"
Vincent did just as Tick did. The weight strained his arms a bit. Without another word, he followed his new found ally. A quick walk lead them to a giant hole in the ground. As Vince neared,
he noticed just how much it reeked of death and decay. He made the mistake of glancing inside. Hundreds of dead bodies lay amongst each other with trash. There was no discrimination in the dead. Slaves of all ages, races, and genders lay dead in the pile. Tick took no thought in throwing his rubble in, but Vincent hesitated for a second. When Tick gave him a scolding kind of glance, Vince went ahead and threw in the stone he was carrying.
  "If ya wanna last 'round here, yer gonna have to throw your morals out tha window. Ain't no point anyway. The Wardens never let anyone leave, and no one ever escapes."
They began walking back.
  "How come?"
  "Is that a trick question?"
  "What? No."
  "Well since ya haven't noticed apparently, I'd like to point out the pretty little necklace them slavers gave ya. We all have 'em"
Vincent already knew what he was talking about, but he felt around his neck once again. The cold metal collar was not welcoming.
  "Besides that, most slaves don't try to escape anyway. The Wardens usually find a way ta keep 'em here"
  "What do you mean, keep them here?"
  "People didn't call me Tick 'till I came here. They didn't have a reason to."
  "...They force feed you drugs, don't they?"
  "Buffout for me. That's not all tho'. Sometimes they use alcohol. Sometimes if they catch a whole family, they'll use people's own kids against 'em"
  "Those bastards..."
  "Hush yo' mouth. If they hear you, you won't be the only one punished. A beating isn't on my to-do list today, so it'd be kind of ya' to shut yer mouth about that. I'll agree with ya though. Them Wardens are the worst."
They arrived at the pile again. Each of them once again grabbed a piece and turned back.
  "Who are these 'Wardens' everyone keeps mentioning?"  
  "The Wardens are the bosses for each area."
  "Area?"
  "Yeah. You know, barracks, cafeteria... This place is all divided up."
  "What area are we in?"
  "The offices. Our Warden's a real shit head, but he's not as bad as the one over in Blackwood's building."
  "Who's Blackwood?"
  "How many damn questions are you gonna ask?"
  "Uh- Sorry"
  "Nah its fine I guess. Yer new so I'll cut ya' some slack. Blackwood is the boss boss. The boss of the bosses. The boss's boss."
  "Right..."
  "You done now?"
  "Yeah... Thanks I guess"
  "Yer welcome"
They worked in silence for hours. Vincent had never noticed the heat like he did now. Its all he could focus on. It felt like the sun was searing his skin as he walked. Tick seemed fine so Vince wrote it off for as long as he could, but the thoughts always came back. On one trip to the fill, a sharp pain shot across Vincent's brain. It was bad enough to force him to drop his load and crumble to his knees. Tick glared at him.
  "...Your a jet-head, ain't ya Vince?"
He didn't bother responding. He instead held his head in his hands until the pain eventually faded away. When it did, he resumed his work. It took all his strength to pick back up what he'd been carrying.
  "Vince, come on man"
There was a hint of concern in Tick's voice. Wether or not it was concern for his own self or for Vincent was unknown.
  "Vince answer me"
  "Yeah, sure. Whatever..."
Tick looked unhappy.
  "Oh man, you better not let the Warden know. He'll keep you here better than a stray dog in a new home."
  "And how am I supposed to keep quiet about it?"
 "I don't know man, but they'll get you so hooked that goin a day without a fix will send ya into a helluva withdrawal."
  "Then shut up about it!"
  "Sorry man. Just be wary. They got eyes everywhere."
For the rest of the day Vince and Tick worked without saying a word to each other. Well after the sun had been down an alarm bell rung. Tick stopped working and popped his back before turning to Vincent.
  "Alright buddy. Time ta go to bed."
  "Bed? What about food? Water?"
  "You showed up after dinner had already been served. We get a cup of water and who knows what to eat a day."
Vincent didn't think he could last any longer without a drink.
  "I need some water. I haven't had any for three days."
Tick seemed reluctant.
  "Fine. Only cuz I know you won't last much longer."
He lead Vincent behind a building. There was a small patch of dirt that seemed fresh. Tick swept some of it away revealing a bottle of water.
  "Almost everyone 'round here has a stash"
He tossed the bottle to Vince, who quickly drank down over half of it. Tick reburied it and made the pile look more natural.
 "Now lets go to the slave house. We probably won't snag any beds, but it doesn't matter. Them things are loaded with bed bugs and lice anyway."
They walked to a large building that probably was a supermarket in the past. Inside rows upon rows of beds were spread out. Each and every one of them were filled. Many people were already finding their places on the floor.
  "Men on first floor, women on second, and children are in a whole 'nother building. If the guards catch you anywhere but here, your probably dead."
Tick found an empty corner he liked and made himself comfortable. Vincent merely sat against the wall nearby.
  "Ya know Vince, its nice having a friendly face to stick with."
  "Yeah. Yeah I agree."
  "I'd recommend getting some rest. Tomorrow'll be just like today."
Tick didn't say anything more. Vincent didn't sleep. He was exhausted more than ever, but he was afraid that once he let sleep take hold of him, it'd never let go.