"Where did everyone go?"

“Where did everyone go?” Charlie knew.

The starter is: 'I remember that song'; the scene: 'in a police station';
and a word you have to use in the story: 'zipper'. Good luck!!

Approx. 1,647 words

Survivors, Chapter 9, Charlie

When Charlie awakened, he was unaware of the event which had taken place during the middle of the night. His home, temporarily, was an alley just a few blocks off Fremont Street in downtown Las Vegas. The first thing Charlie became aware of was the lateness of the hour. The sun was above the neighboring rooftops of several multi-story office buildings, something which rarely happened to Charlie. Usually the din of traffic noises, newspaper vendors stocking their racks, a garbage truck collecting trash, a siren speeding down the nearby street, whether it belonged to a police vehicle, fire truck, or ambulance, awakened him while the sky was still gray in the east.

Not so this morning. There was none of the usual traffic noise, none of the crush of people pursuing their hum-drum lives, going to work in the early morning hours or just getting off the graveyard shift in this twenty-four hour town. Las Vegas appeared dead. “Where did everyone go?”

Charlie knew. God’s Plan had been revealed to him while he slept. “I shall smite the wicked and you shall go out amongst the righteous and raise up an army to me, for Satan will surely plant his apostles to challenge my divine rule. You shall be my strong right arm and wield the sword of salvation in my name. I shall create the Kingdom of Heaven upon the face of the Earth when the wicked have been destroyed.”

Charlie knew everyone not counted among the faithful had been destroyed by His anger. Only the righteous would walk the streets of heaven, but he was tasked with the burden of divining and destroying the emissaries of the Lord of Darkness. The burden would be heavy and fraught with danger. Charlie might stumble but he must not fall. Charlie wished he had a drink. The empty bottle of cheap wine which had comforted him the night before lay a forgotten corpse among the debris and refuse of the alley.

With a purpose in his stride, Charlie walked to the street and turned left. He soon came upon a local bar and went inside. An overpowering stench assaulted his nose and he wanted to leave, but his thirst was still overpowering. Two patrons were slumped with their heads upon the polished bar. Charlie had seen similar poses in his life, too much to drink, dead drunk and passed out. Three others had fallen off their bar stools and lay on the floor. Charlie might have assumed they were drunk, except for the obvious stains of urine and feces upon their clothing. They were obviously dead, the involuntary muscles of bowels and bladder having ceased to function, voiding their contents.

Charlie fought to ignore the assault upon his nostrils as he surveyed the booths in the semi-dark bar. Most were empty. One booth contained two males sitting close together, one young, barely out of his teens and the other older. Charlie could tell why the Lord had destroyed the pair because homosexuality was an abomination in His eyes.

The next booth was empty, and beyond that was another booth with a young, obviously street-wise black man and two women in cheap clothing. One of the women had slumped on the padded, horse-shoe shaped seat with one arm flung outward exposing a moderate sized breast which had been tatooed and pierced to adorn the nipple with a small golden ring. Harlots destroyed by the wrath of God, Charlie thought.

Seeing no survivors, Charlie stepped behind the bar, stepping over the graveyard bartender, a heavyset man in his forties with thinning hair. From the glass sentries arrayed behind the bar, Charlie took a bottle of expensive whiskey and a bottle of equally expensive gin. His lips watered with excitement as he thought of the pleasure he was about to imbibe, but suddenly he drew back. The Lord would not condone intoxication of His chosen champion and Charlie resisted the urge to partake of this wonderful elixir. His mission was to defend the Kingom of God and smite the evil doers. He must raise up an army for the Lord, and he would!

Charlie put the unopened bottles inside the voluminous pockets of his Army surplus jacket and left the bar, thankful for the clean breath of fresh air which awaited him outside. He decided to walk over to Fourth Street and the office of the Metropolitan Police Department. Surely not all the police were corrupt and evil and he could find a few to join the army he was commanded to assemble. He would choose his avenging angels from among the righteous defenders of the law and use them to seek and destroy the minions sent by the Lord of the Underworld.

The main entrance to the Metro Police Department was brilliantly illuminated by sunlight penetrating the wall of glass which protected it from the often gusty winds driving through the streets and alleys of Las Vegas. From the ceiling above him, flourescent lighting still functioned, illuminating the desks and cubicles of department workers, though the lighting was unseen and uneeded by their sightless eyes. Somewhere a muted radio, tuned to one of the Oldies But Goodies stations, was playing softly, “…lonely days, lonely nights, where would I be without my woman?” I remember that song, Charlie thought, pulling up memories from a lifetime ago.

Charlie found no one to listen to the music. He crossed to the elevators and punched the button to go up, but the elevator was not working. Whether it had been turned off during the night hours when the upstairs offices were closed, or whether it was hooked into a different electrical circuit, Charlie had no way of knowing. He chose the wide stairwell and ascended to the second floor. Most of the offices were locked for the night, but he found one unlocked by the janitorial crew. Inside he found a cart with cleaning supplies and the body of a Mexican slumped on the freshly polished floor. An industrial buffer stood mutely over the body.

Charlie went up to the third floor and found it also empty. On the fourth floor he found a darkened courtroom and briefly seated himself in the judge’s chair. This was to be his task… he would look upon any survivors he found and render a decision whether they should be allowed to join the army of the Lord or they should be destroyed. It was an awesome responsibility but Charlie knew he would shine in the eyes of the Lord.

The fifth and sixth floors were dark and vacant. On the seventh floor he found the Clark County Jail. Bodies filled the office of the desk sergeant and most cells, but Charlie found one survivor.

“You don’t look like no guard to me,” Johnny Fellows said. “When do I get out of here for breakfast? You pigs ain’t got no right to starve a prisoner.”

Charlie looked at the man. Why had the Lord spared this dirty individual with his scruffy boots and dirty Levis? Obviously, God knew something which Charlie did not.

“Are you a righteous man?” Charlie asked.

“Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow, I will fear no evil,” Johnny said, “for I am the toughest Mutha in the valley!” He punctuated his remark with a hideous laugh and evil looking grin.

Charlie eyed the bulging biceps, broad shoulders and corded neck muscles beneath the man’s dirty T-shirt. “I have no doubt you are, mister…?”

“Fellows. Johnny Fellows. Now get me the hell out of here before I kick the shit out of you!”

“Temper, temper,” Charlie said. “I may let you out of here, or I may not. That remains to be seen.”

“You get me out of here right now you crazy fuck or I’ll stomp the shit out of you when I do get out!” Johnny Fellows wasn’t particularly bright or he would have realized the futility of antagonizing his only chance at freedom.

“Not yet, Mr. Fellows. I haven’t decided whether you are worthy to serve in the army of the Lord.” Charlie pulled the bottle of whiskey from his pocket and handed it through the bars though he was still afraid of the man in the cell.

“Don’t drink it too quickly; I’ll be back later with some food for you.”

“Hey, wait!” Johnny yelled as Charlie walked away. “Get me out of here!” Fellows screamed.

Charlie closed the mental zipper in his mind to shut out the voice and vision of Johnny Fellows. Perhaps he would return, if he judged the man worthy, or perhaps he would simply forget about him. There was no need to be hasty with his decision. The county had built the jail on the seventh, eighth, and ninth floors to preclude escape assistance by persons at street level. It was also frightening to the inmates to look down seven stories as they dreamed up their escape plans. The psychological barrier was very effective.

The remaining floors were also devoid of living persons. Charlie might have expected that; the Lord had destroyed the sinners and Las Vegas is, afterall, Sin City, the present day incarnation of Sodom and Gomorrah. Charlie felt like Diogenes with his lamp, eternally searching for an honest man. Could he find others in this wicked city? Would he find others anywhere?

Charlie left the building and walked two blocks to a convenience store. He found a hand-basket and collected a six pack of bottled water, two boxes of doughnuts and an entire box of Slim Jims. What else should he take back to his recent acquaintance? Charlie added an assortment of filtered and non-filtered cigarettes. He had heard cigarettes were valuable in prison, probably jails too, and thought Mr. Fellows might appreciate the gesture. Not being a smoker himself, Charlie forgot to grab a few complimentary books of matches.