Hope And Undead Elvis Part 22

"What happens then?"

"You get sent Down Below."

It felt as if the temperature in the room dropped a few degrees with those words and Hope s.h.i.+vered. "What's Down Below?"

He set the last chair onto a table and went over to the bar. "Where do you think all this electricity comes from? The lights and slots and music and everything? There aren't any power stations anymore." He took a stick-vac from behind the bar and ran it over the places where people had sat during his performance. "We make it all here."

"You generate your own power?"

"The Deuce has a guy, called Shades, who knows electricity. He hooked a bunch of generators up to bicycles. You need chips to live, you can earn them Down Below. Three hours on earns you one chip."

The math was easy enough even for Hope. "But a meal costs a chip. So does a bed. You'd have to work twelve hours just to break even at the end of the day."

The Elvis Impersonator gave her a sad smile as he packed away the stick vacuum. "Exactly. Once you wind up down there, you're probably never getting out. Folks are killing themselves working fifteen hours a day just to get a couple extra chips, then gambling them away up here."

"That's horrible!"

"Yeah, it is. But if you're smart with your money, you can stay alive and comfortable up here in the sunlit world. At least when it's not snowing." His eyes wandered upward toward Undead Elvis's sungla.s.ses that still rode atop Hope's head. "You wouldn't want to sell those gla.s.ses, would you? They'd really help complete my look."

Hope shook her head. "Sorry, they're not for sale."

The Elvis Impersonator chuckled. "Everything's for sale for the right price. I'm Duane."

"Hope."

Duane's face went pale and he grabbed onto the edge of the bar for support. "Jesus, it's you."

Hope clutched his arm, offering her strength. "What about me?"

"He said he was looking for you."

Hope's heart leaped into her throat. "Who? Who was it?"

Duane looked around, his sideburns framing the unease on his face. "I'm not sure. He looked like Elvis. I mean, the real one. He had a jumpsuit and the hair and everything, except his skin didn't look right. It was kind of-"

"Blue?" interrupted Hope, her hands clasped at her throat.

"Yeah." Duane looked relieved. "I got the idea for my act from him. He said I had a good voice."

"You do. He would know."

"He said he was looking for a girl named Hope. He described you, but you don't look a lot like what he said you would. Except he said you were pregnant. G.o.d, he was right. After all this time."

"What happened to him? Where did he go?"

The worry marred Duane's face again. "I-I don't know."

"You're lying to me. Why are you lying?"

"Look, I have to go. Some things we're not to talk about. I probably already said too much. I'm... I'm sorry." He fled from the club into the recesses of the Casino.

Hope knew she couldn't waddle after him. "d.a.m.n it," she whispered. Nevertheless, she struggled after him, trying to keep a solid hold on Fidel and not let him overbalance her. Her baby wriggled in her belly, pressing a foot right against her lungs, making her gasp for breath. "Come on, give your mom a break, would you?" she grunted.

Fidel's ears stuck up as he saw someone in the darkness of the Casino. He strained at his leash, almost tugging it from Hope's grasp. He uttered a short bark, making people look over toward them. Hope saw he was pulling toward a woman in a wheelchair. "Yes, all right, Fidel. I see her. Thank you. Good dog."

Fidel wagged his tail and kept tugging at Hope until she was close enough to call to Margaret.

The woman stopped her progress, turned, and smiled at Hope. "There you are. I was looking for you."

Hope gasped for air as she joined Margaret. "I'm sorry, I just need a moment," she said. "I'm glad I'll be done soon. I miss breathing."

"My husband and I never had any children." Margaret's smile was one of sadness. "And then I was in the accident and he left me soon after."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's all right. It's hard to live with someone who's handicapped. I can do a lot of things, but I still need help from time to time." She sighed. "Sometimes it's even hard for me to live with myself."

"I understand, at least, I have an idea what that's like," said Hope. "I used to be a dancer before this." She patted her belly. "Well, before the world ended."

Margaret reached out a tentative hand. "May I?"

"Of course. He's quiet right now. I think he's finally asleep."

"How do you know it's a boy?"

"I just do."

Margaret rubbed Hope's belly with gentle fingers. Her demeanor became one of reverence. "It must be wonderful."

"It's been hard. At times I've been terribly sick, hungry, or just miserable. But yes, sometimes it's indeed wonderful."

"I bet the Deuce is beside himself."

"Yeah. I kind of get the sense he's looking forward to trying for another baby with me."

Margaret scratched Fidel behind his ears. "You wouldn't be the first, either. He's more than willing to spread his seed around. He says it's our duty to breed and to grow, and he chooses to lead from the front." Margaret lowered her voice. "Personally, I think he just likes the power of sleeping with so many women. He pays them for it, in chips or food or other perks."

"He's making them all into wh.o.r.es." Bitterness crept into Hope's voice. She'd seen the same pattern play out time and time again in the clubs where she'd worked.

Margaret uttered a soft, cynical laugh. "Honey, we're all wh.o.r.es. It's just a matter of finding the right price."

"It doesn't have to be that way."

"It does here."

"We could leave," said Hope. "The more I find out about this place, the more I think I don't want to raise my baby here."

Margaret's laugh was biting. "And where would we go? The world is gone. There's nothing left out there."

"Is that what Duce tells you?"

"Him and those few people who've come here since the end." Margaret looked up at her. "Why, are they wrong?" She lowered her voice. "What do you know that they don't?"

"Yes, they're wrong. The world is still out there. It's just... waiting."

"Waiting for what? For us?"

Hope rubbed her belly with gentle grace. "For him. This baby. I think he'll be the first born into this new world."

"I hope he won't be the last."

Hope felt her eyes grow a little misty. "He won't be. I know that for a fact. The world isn't ruined. It's going to come back. And those of use who are left, maybe we can make it a better place than it was before." Hope took an experimental breath. "I think I can go on now. Where were you headed?"

"Just back to my room. It's getting late and I'm tired and hungry."

"Me too."

"You can stay in my room if you want. You and the dog. It's big enough for all of us, and there's an extra bed."

"That sounds nice." Hope followed Margaret into a hall leading away from the main Casino floor. It was a dark place, with only one out of every four light bulbs lit up. Shadowy people pa.s.sed by them, singly or in pairs, heading toward the gambling floor or toward rooms. They gave Margaret a wide berth and wouldn't look at her, Hope noticed, as if being in a wheelchair was contagious.

"Are they all this nice here?" she asked in a soft voice.

"No," said Margaret. "Some of them are much, much worse." She wheeled along in silence for a minute, and then asked, "Is there really nothing left out there, beyond the edge of the parking lot?"

"No, the world is still there. There are still things, and people, both good and bad, and places to go."

"So we can leave?"

"Yes. And I'm thinking I probably will as soon as this storm blows over. This place makes me uncomfortable, and I'm afraid of Mr. Duce."

"You should be." Margaret unlocked a door with a key she had on a string around her neck. "He won't want to let you go."

"He'll have a hard time stopping me," said Hope. "I haven't come this far just to give up before reaching my destination."

"What destination is that? Where are you going?"

Hope said, "Graceland. The real one."

Chapter Thirty-Three.

Hope and the Pit Margaret brought Hope back to her room where they could discuss their plans in privacy. Fidel leaped onto one of the two double beds, scratched at the bedspread with his claws, and laid down. He was snoring within seconds.

"I'm sorry. I'll clean your bed," said Hope.

"Nonsense," said Margaret. "He's not a dirty dog. Besides, I sleep on the other one."

The suite looked like a typical hotel room with two beds, a TV on the dresser, and a sliding gla.s.s door that led to a deck. Snow blew against the gla.s.s, drifting on the deck beyond. Overall, it had been designed with just the right amount of discomfort to make its resident not want to stay in it, because the Casino didn't make money off people who weren't gambling. It was still dark outside and Hope wondered if the sun would ever rise again.

"The Deuce had some food sent up here earlier for you." Margaret pointed to a tray. "It looks like a good five or six chips' kind of meal. You better not let it go to waste."

"Please share it with me." Hope perched on the edge of the bed, glad to have her weight off her feet at last.

"Oh, no, I couldn't," said Margaret.

"I insist. I won't eat while others around me go hungry. I've managed to get this far without a history of regular meals."

The two women picked at the plate of food, consisting of microwaved appetizers, a fried chicken TV dinner, and a can of c.o.ke. "This is a five chip meal?" asked Hope, astonished. "What do most people eat?"

Margaret made a face. "It's this nasty oatmeal stuff. It has almost no taste and probably almost no nutritional value. The Deuce's people say we can live on it, but that's no way to live. A lot of folks will skip a meal or two just to get better food. People are slowly starving to death. Is it any wonder none of the women have gotten pregnant?"

"G.o.d," said Hope. "And when people can't afford even the gruel anymore, they go into the bas.e.m.e.nt to generate power?"

Margaret looked around as if to check for listeners, even though they were alone in her suite. "We're not supposed to talk about it. Everyone knows about the Pit, but it's taboo to discuss. People who go down there are usually never seen again."

Hope pushed the tray over to Margaret. She'd lost her appet.i.te. "There's someone down there I need to see. I need to find out if he's who I've been looking for."

"The father of your baby?" asked Margaret.

"No. Not exactly." Hope sighed.

Margaret's laugh was gentle. "Dear, either he is or he isn't."

"Then he isn't. We never hooked up."

"So what is he to you?"

Hope didn't answer right away. What was Undead Elvis to her? He had been her guide, her confidant, and her sounding board during the first portion of her journey. He'd given her a destination, listened to her rambling on, and carried her when she no longer had the strength to walk for herself. He'd helped her to discover a vast well of fort.i.tude, both physical and emotional, that she hadn't known she'd possessed. Without him, she felt sure she would have died many months ago. She realized, with some astonishment, how much she'd transformed over the course of her pregnancy. Now she'd become to others what Undead Elvis had been to her. Was this part of how her child was supposed to fix the world? Would her son have those same qualities that Undead Elvis had inspired within her and now she inspired in others?

She hoped so.

"He's a friend," she said at last. "And if he needs me, I have to help him."

"I can show you where the entrance to the Pit is," said Margaret, "but I can't take you down there." She offered a wry smile. "It's not wheelchair-accessible. I wish I could do more than that, but I'm afraid of what's down there."

"What is down there?"

"The stuff of nightmares. People who've lost their humanity over the Deuce and his G.o.dd.a.m.ned chips. People who'll do anything, sell anything if the price is right. People who are killing themselves on the treadmills and cycles, starving to death just to get that one chip so they can run upstairs and pull a slot machine lever."

Fidel rolled over on the bed, splaying his paws up in the air, and groaned in his sleep. Hope patted his soft tummy. He opened his eyes and looked at her, still more asleep than awake. She could see herself reflected in the dark pools of his pupils, and the woman she saw wouldn't be afraid to face down the monsters below if it meant she could save her friend. "Okay, you show me and I'll take it from there."