Working Class Vegas Vamp is a free urban fantasy serial, usually publishing on Tuesdays. It is unedited and subject to change. If published later, it may differ significantly, and will probably include additional material. Typos and English errors are likely; feel free to leave a comment or write me at am {AT} amscottwrites.com (revised as a standard email address. Pesky bots!) Available for a limited time only!

Chapter 5

I drove slowly along the highway outside Red Rocks Canyon Park, acting like every other stargazer sneaking in after hours, and found a slot in a small parking area on the side of the road. Taking my tote plus a low camp chair from the backseat, I followed the trail into the rock formations. After about a half a mile, I checked carefully around me and left the path. Fifty feet off the path, I sprinkled cayenne pepper on my footsteps, put on a crime scene technician’s suit, and made my way to a cave I’d discovered. I’d spent many nights finding bolt holes in and out of the city, and that preparation would pay off now.

As a marker, I’d left a small pile of pebbles at a rock formation. Rolling a two-foot diameter stone away from the entrance buried the pebbles. I wriggled through the opening, pushing the chair and tote in front of me. Last time I’d been here, nothing lived inside, but that could have changed. A rattlesnake or spider bite wouldn’t kill me, but it wouldn’t feel good, either. I hadn’t seen any animal tracks outside, so hopefully, my lair would still be safe for the day. I clicked the flashlight on, hoping the light caused any critters to leave.

After crawling fifteen feet, I emerged into an opening. It wasn’t a true cave, but a place where towering hoodoos and boulders had crashed into each other over the years, leaving a hollow about five feet in diameter. Inside, I blocked the entrance with another boulder, set up my chair, sat, and turned off the flashlight, looking for any hint of sky. Not seeing any stars, I unfolded a wildland fire shelter above me, fastening it to the chair’s high back above my head with Velcro, then slid my feet into the far end, and shoved the sides underneath my arms. If any sunlight penetrated my lair, the combination of reflective aluminum foil, woven silica cloth, and fiberglass should keep me safe. I’d heard of vampires surviving full sunlight for a full day in fire shelters. Not something I wanted to try, but I might not have a choice.

As the earth rotated, bringing the sunrise closer, I sucked down a blood box and reviewed my actions. Despite my care, I was traceable; if Theoden had found out about the car, he could have put a tracker on it. He also could have gotten Clover to put trackers on my suitcases or clothing—if he’d penetrated the security on my room, which was difficult, but possible. He also could have stuck a tracker on me in the crowded back hallway of the casino, but I’d take care of that tomorrow. Anything small enough to hide on my skin wouldn’t have the power to penetrate all this rock.

He also could have used traditional methods; a drone could have followed every car leaving the apartment complex last night, backed up by people in vehicles. I hadn’t noticed anything like that, but I’d be moving fast when the sun went down tomorrow. I drank a second box and waited for unconsciousness, praying I’d escaped.

God might not care about vamps, but it didn’t hurt to ask.

*

I woke. Unmoving, I listened, then opened my eyes to pitch blackness. Clicking my flashlight on, I pulled the fire shelter off, wrinkling my nose at the crinkling noise. If I’d been followed to the park, Theoden would probably track me with weres, and they had good hearing. But the sound was unavoidable, so I balled the shelter up and slid it into my tote bag, then stood and stretched, loosening my body.

No time for my usual meditation and yoga–speed was literally life tonight. Rolling away the stone blocking my temporary lair, I crawled out and listened again. Hearing nothing but the wind and a few insects, I stood, then climbed the stack of boulders I’d slept under. My Tyvek suit rustled, but ever-blowing Vegas wind covered the noise.

Looking back at my car, I saw only one other vehicle, and a yellow tag on my windshield. The other vehicle, a small SUV, appeared empty, and didn’t match the cars from last night. The tag could be an official warning to move the car, or a note from Theoden’s people–there was no way to tell from here.

Decision time. Did I risk checking and possibly keep the car and my remaining stuff? Or leave it all behind just in case? If they’d tracked my vehicle here, they’d probably find me quickly, no matter how fast I hiked. Despite the pepper distraction, Theoden would have weres on my tail soon.

Speed was more important. Removing the isolation suit, I climbed down, and stuffed the thing into my tote bag, then took a different route back to the trail. Exaggerating my shoe-caused limp, I shuffled along the official trail to my car, then yanked the tag. My shoulders sagged in relief–it was an official warning that the vehicle would be towed after 24 hours. I tossed my chair into the backseat.

Inside the car, I started it and drove just over the speed limit along the highway. I’d head north and leave Vegas—forever. I had an acquaintance in Salt Lake City; I could beg shelter for the night if I could reach him. And he still lived there. And he was willing to cross Theoden—as he grew richer, fewer and fewer people risked his displeasure.

If I could reach Oregon, I could hide out in a lava tunnel for a night or two. But that meant making good time tonight, driving two lane highways in the middle of nowhere. If I hit a deer or some other furry critter, I was dead. Or I’d find out if the shake-and-bake—the wildland firefighter’s grim nickname for the fire shelters—really worked.

Whichever way I decided to go, I had to go north first. My head itched; the wig charm was running out. At the end of the loop road, I turned north west on highway 95. I’d head for Reno and if I couldn’t get farther, at least I’d avoid falling into Theoden’s clutches.

He was hot, rich and entitled. I might be physically attracted to him, but I knew better than to get involved with anyone like that. I’d learned the hard way that those kinds of men were all about the chase. Once they got you, they used you and threw you away, taking what little money and self-esteem you had left, leaving you with nothing.

I’d survived and recovered, but I’d never make the same mistake twice. Wealthy men were nothing but trouble. Leaving Vegas was the smart thing to do, so I drove north.

My headlights speared the darkness, but if I’d had human eyes, they’d be completely inadequate. Fortunately, I saw better than most and had avoided all furry critters determined to commit suicide by old lady car for an hour so far.

Suddenly, headlights from both lanes made me squint. Joined by flashing blue and red, I put my foot on the brake. Turning around before a road block would only get me chased. If I was lucky, the State Police were looking for a fugitive from the nearby prison.

But I was fairly certain I wasn’t lucky tonight.

***To be continued***

Working Class Vegas Vamp Copyright © 2024 by AM Scott. All Rights Reserved.