The United States government ran a lot of prisons, and recently, they'd build quite a number to hold prisoners of war and terrorists. This one, out in the Nevada desert on an Air Force base, reflected the experience of being able to rapidly erect a place to hold a lot of people very quickly. So-called 'Bremer walls" of steel-reinforced concrete topped with wire fencing that created a dome overhead (to prevent the flight-capable from leaving) were ringed with guardposts and security all over the place.

This wasn't a jail for terrorists or prisoners of war, though many called them just that, but other Americans.

It started when some congressman argued that the 14th amendment applied to human beings and that the Emergents were no longer human. Challenges took a few months to reach the Supreme Court, and a 5-4 decision returned the verdict -- nope, not human. Using the national defense authorization act of 2011, the federal government used their powers and a variety of resources to stick Emergents, anyone that exhibited a hint of magical ability (and some people suffering from epilepsy and similar conditions, because small town cops got jumpy) into a camp that was guarded by military troops. Sure, there was some outcry, but it wasn't from the people that said that FEMA was conspiring to take their rights away before Emergence. Those guys were cool with 'the freaks' being stuck in cages. This was some of the relatives, some of the friends and people that believed that these people were still people.

Sometimes, it was hard to believe all this was happening, after months of wearing an orange jumpsuit, being referred to by last name by some high school educated asshole of an SP and being more or less resigned to the deprivation of rights. Brian hadn't done much, he certainly hadn't harmed anyone. Someone else did something and he glowed. As it turned out, it was a sympathetic response. Boom -- in public, out in front of his lecture hall at University of Texas and boom, he was coldcocked by some Phi Kappa Episilon broski that thought he was doing the world a favor and held down by a couple more for the cops.

There was a fight on in the outside world about the treatment of Emergents, and that fight raged on, but nothing seemed to move at all in the Nevada Desert, in Nellis AFB. It was day after day of cafeteria food slung to prisoners, guards keeping an eye on things and researchers trying to figure out the how and why of things.

Brian Underwood of El Paso, Texas, didn't know that there was a very loud, divisive debate going on out there, because they didn't get any radio or TV here and especially no internet. FEMA provided books and that was it. All the same, news came in with the new arrivals, some of them blasted out of their minds on the doses of anti-whatevers the screws fed them. Out in the hot, dusty desert air every day, the inmates gathered in the cafeteria tent and in their air conditioned temporary shelters to discuss affairs, and managed to put together a picture of what was going on -- society was having a raucous debate about Emergent rights, spirits were popping out of the trees (notably, nymphs in Golden Gate Park, apparently spurning the drum-circle hippies in preference of the company of bikers) and everything was going haywire. Churches and churchgoers, of course, were often losing their shit, but there were surprising allies among the religious for Emergents too.

Brian was involved in all that stuff, but the word that came down today, in the camp, was that the overnight construction, where they moved a section of wall and put up chainlink fence, guarded by troops, was a press visit -- pressure had been put on the DHS to let in a bus of reporters to record conditions, from a safe distance, of 'the Freakville.'

It seemed just another day in March of 2012, warmer than most because it was the desert and things didn't change much out here, when the rumble of diesel was heard in the distance as the bus started to pull up.

And Brian was standing there watching when the signs unrolled -- slogans about rights and the Constitution, the things the government took away from them. And he joined the crowd alongside some folks he didn't know, shouting his words and raising his fists. The SP's seemed unsure of what to do, there in their camouflage, berets and combat gear, unwilling to open fire on people shouting, but some martinet took control and a bullhorn and yelled, "ALL PRISONERS TO THE GROUND NOW!" A desert-camouflaged humvee with some sort of radar dish rolled up and someone yelled, "Fucking ADS! Watch out!"

Someone flung something -- it might have been soap, it might have been shit, and it didn't even come close to hitting the jackass and the response was for him to yell something off the bullhorn. Seconds later, the electric buzzing sound of something drawing energy and then the sensation of burning warmth on the skin.

Whatever it was, it set off the Nellis Uprising.

---

The stories would say such -- that Colonel Jays was an idiot, that the ADS was not tested on Emergents and it caused the Emergents to fear for their lives enough to panic-access their latent abilities, abilities that were unlocking slowly with effort...but that came flooding out in terror as the subconscious, as human nature would have it, grabbed for whatever weapon it could find and use it to stop the pain. The ADS wasn't lethal, but the deep-brain that formed the fight or flight response didn't know that. Not all Emergents had dangerous offensive abilities...but enough people in that sweep of the ADS did.

The cameras caught it all. The court martial found that he'd been excessive. That didn't matter.

The cameras caught the huge sandstorm that blew into Nellis out of a clear sky. Small, concentrated tornadoes that pulled helicopters out the sky as if guided there. It caught, for the whole world, the sight of just how little the government knew about Emergence and it let everyone know that the Emergents could put up a fight.

But it also caught the mass escape of Emergents; the ones that hadn't fueled the magic, for whatever reason, grabbed their friends who had, the ones that were practically on their knees from the expended effort of magic of that magnitude, magic on a level no one had ever seen or knew anyone was capable of, and ran for it while the military was fighting nature itself – it wasn't just windstorms, it was things of rock and sand, animated by some sort of power, bringing massive fists crashing into the Bremer Walls, overturning vehicles. The cameras caught the panicked gunfire and terrified screams of the soldiers who seemed so capable, so tough, now looking impotent in the face of their giant opponents who smashed into the ones that didn't run or find cover or just cower – and many of them did.

Armored vehicles didn't do much better – the escape was on, as the Emergents took their chance to get the hell out. Some stayed, unsure what to do, or knowing they'd merely burden their friends, but most took the golden opportunity. Many reasoned that the government would mistreat the ones left behind even more – take revenge on them the way the US government did on captured terrorism suspects with the torture after 9/11. It'd happened before.

Brian had help, so did a couple others -- he couldn't remember who grabbed him and pulled him, because he was completely exhausted, jelly-legged and mush-armed, but he knew that someone dragged him into the desert. He'd been one of the ones whose terror broke the barriers of his abilities, and the shock of it left him a catatonic; or at least, to the outside world he seemed so. In reality, he was experiencing what had to be some sort of awesome trip on peyote; it was numbers and letters flashing across his vision like lightning, half-illuminated and slipping away, chanting voices, whispers and singing coming in and out of hearing along with the roar of wind and the subtle rumbles of the earth in its infinitesimal movements, the crackle of fire as it consumed and the rush of water as it eroded, all overlaid with a thrum of power that reminded him almost of an AC unit kicking on at night. Once in a while, he muttered something, but it was incomprehensible. His world was the universe distorted through a lens of hallucination, mundane things became imbued with meaning and the most innocuous things screamed for his attention. It was as if reality was whispering with hot breath in his ear so only he could hear, though he could only make out a tenth of what it was saying.

He came to in unfamiliar surroundings, a motel room somewhere, and the first thought that came to mind was, 'on the run.'

The first words the lanky young Texan with the sandy blonde hair and the brown eyes and the southwestern tan spoke were, “Hello? Who are you, where are we?”

Those eyes were brown originally. Now they glowed slightly around the iris with a faint blue fire that stood out in the darkness of their room.

The Nellis uprising wasn't a surprise. Rumors had been traveling around the prison grounds for a long time that when the chance came, they would take it, no matter how slim it was. So when the trucks and bussed arrived, filled with posters of equality and rights, something that the prisoners never had, it was a given that that was the said chance to do something.

I had been a given for almost everyone, aside from Daina, a young pale skinned female with dreads. She had found it hard to get any sleep what so ever, since she was placed in the Nellis desert prison only a few days before the uprising after her leg hair had turned into feathering and her feet started to form into talons. Scared and still in shock over the current reality that she was in, imprisoned in the burning hot desert, not sure exactly where she was, and away from anyone she knew. And worst of all, turned in to the government by her own friends, ratted out by someone she had believed was her friend.

So when the uprising happened Daina was gripped in panic. Her first instinct was to hide, but when she saw an opening, past the rumbling monsters that were other Emergents, she took the chance and ran for it, following the crowd. She'd been terrified, but those who had been prepared to the uprising did their best in the middle of the chaotic escape to help her and those who were downed by the military, barking orders to eachother and people around them. Without a chance of hesitation she was helping to carry a young blond haired man who was completely out of it, together with an older gray haired man. They both struggled to keep up, but managed to get out and under cover till a second opening appeared. A couple of young Emergents, one with electrical abilities and the other one with what seemed to be super strength had managed to take hold of one of the buses and were now waving to them.

Quickly they fled across the small open space from the wall to the truck, fire, bullets and sand raining around them, dragging the unconscious boy with them. When they reached the buss the Emergents there pulled them inside, however the elder man refused. He turned around to help more people on.

After that everything seemed to go foggy for Daina. She was pushed back into the buss, told to duck down onto the floor, leaving the boy in the middle isle. It was her and many other Emergents filled the bus, and soon she felt the buss taking off, slamming into things on the way out from the prison grounds. When things calmed down and the people in the buss started to sit up, and organize themselves, Daina was still lying down, shivering in shock. It was first when the people around her started to talk that she started to calm down, but as she did she started to feel a sharp pain in her left upper arm, and as she glanced at is she noticed the crimson pouring out of a circle shaped small wound. Had she just been shot?

"Uh..." She started, as the pain escalated. "I'm.." She said and quickly a weather-bitten female stood in-front of her with a strip torn off her orange prison-suit.
"This may hurt a bit, but you'll be fine. It's just a scratch." she said and then without asking wrapped the cloth around the wound and tightened it, causing Daina to feel a bit ill from the pain. Daina clung to the words for a while. She was going to be fine. She was out of Nellis hell scape, and she was surrounded by the people who had enabled the escape, none of which were willing to hand one other over. Even if she didn't know these people she started to feel as if she could trust them, and soon with the adrenaline out and the pain rising, she just fell asleep on the floor in between seats.

---

The sun had set, and as it did the warm bus now started to chill down. The Escapees were scattered out across the Nevada desert, some even further away from Nellis Prison than that. It was dark outside, and the road was the only thing in sight, shown only by the vehicles lights. Based of the lack of air-force or search parties the group assumed that an emergency signal to the outside world had never been triggered, or that the battle was still raging at Nellis. But the only way to truly stay safe was to hide for now. Pulling the buss off road and into the desert grounds, tucking it away in under nearby cliffs and shutting the lights off. They were now in complete disquise in the dark.

Daina woke up from the pain in her arm aching once more, and with a lightheaded feeling and a dry mouth she slowly stood up and walked over to the five people who were still awake after the days drama. They were sitting around the front where they didn't disturb the sleeping Emergants, and were discussing something deeply.
Daina carefully navigated her way across the passed out bodies towards the group when she heard a voice from below, The boy that she helped rescue were asking where they were and who she was... What was she meant to reply? She looked at the others who had picked up his voice aswell, and they looked back happy to see two new people awake, and then nodded towards Daina making her uncomfortable.

"Uhm.. We are out.. I'm Daina." She answered and sat down beside the boy. The same woman who had helped her with her arm swiftly moved across to them, almost floating across the buss and then stopped.

"I'm Cutter, Happy to see that you're awake boy. We are currently in the middle of the Nevada desert on a bus that we claimed in the chaos, all of us are escapees from the Nellis prison." She said then glanced at Daina. "How's your arm, honey?"

Daina looked paler than normally, forcing a short smile on her lips to indicate that it wasn't too bad. "It's... Just a scratch, heh." She replied. Cutter laughed quietly.
"That's my girl. What's your name?" Cutter nudged the boy on the shoulder, helping him to sit up if he wanted to.

"Brian," he said, as the words thundered in his mind "I AM MAGUS!"

It was the last thing he saw in his dream-state; the last moment was him facing a figure in robes that thundered, "WHO AM I? WHO ARE YOU?"

And when the hood came down, it was a mirror reflection. That last bit of fragmented thought, apparently, was the answer. He knew, then, that he had played a part in Nellis, whatever happened, and it'd been his magic. It was no longer an accident that he'd been at Nellis and he was definitely an emergent -- he couldn't see his eyes right now, but others could. He let the hands of the old woman help him up, "Brian Underwood. So I know how it all started, and I know we're out of Nellis, but what happened?"

"Well," Cutter thought for a moment as she squinted, old eyes set in a crinkling face that frowned with concentration, "After they zapped us with the ray gun, there was a huge storm of little twisters and these dirt giants pounding on those jeeps the military uses. That's when a bunch of us got the hell out." The woman had a twanging Ozark accent going on, and he looked weathered enough for the role -- Arkansas or somewhere similar, real mountain hillbilly, but kindly enough to help someone up.

"So where are we now?"

A younger guy, with no hair whatsoever but tusks jutting out of his mouth and horns out of his head, a real burly piece of work, said, "Nevada desert. Headed North into Utah." He said that with a grimace, but Cutter added.

"Most everyone else seemed to be headed to California. I figure Utah isn't as friendly, but if we stay on the road, gas the bus up and keep moving, we can get into Idaho and then circle into Washington. It's getting uglier out there, but I think our best chance is Frisco, Portland or Seattle. We just gotta pass through Mormon country first."

"Except they're hardcore against us; LDS hates us as much as the rest," Horns argued, though it was with a tone of resignation, as if he expected them all to wind up in deep shit from the decision. The guy looked ferocious, but the whining actually helped humanize a fierce visage.

"Yeah," another man, this one looking 'normal' with receding hair and glasses in addition to the standard issue DHS orange jumpsuit, "But they also don't like the government as much. We might be able to get by just fine if we stay clear of SLC."

"No cities," Cutter pointed out, though wearily, as if she'd had this argument a few times already, going over the same territory, and was sick of it.

The man with receding hair added, "Junkets come to and from Vegas in buses like this all the time. If we stay smart, we've got a good chance."

"Guess we take our chances either way,” Cutter shrugged.

Brian interjected at this point, “So what's the news? Do we have any radio or anything?”

Cutter turned on the radio nearby in one of the seats of the bus, the fancy kind used to move people to and from casinos with all the amenities, over to a news station which blades, “...inmates that participated from the so-called Nellis Uprisings are still on the loose, government authorities say, and are to be considered armed and dangerous. In the surrounding states of Utah, California, Idaho, Washington, Arizona and New Mexico, anyone that sees large groups of strange people, particularly those exhibiting strange features or perhaps glowing, should call 1-800-SUS-PECT to report all activity to the Department of Homeland Security. Citizens are encouraged to stay in their homes and NOT ENGAGE these Emergents...”

A flip of the station on Brian's part brought them to a popular talkshow, “The freaks are on the loose, just like we all feared – vampires and dragons control the government and engineered this uprising from within. You can't trust the government, just you, your gun and your ammo supply...” That was a high pitched voice from a fat man who made his money stirring up trouble.

Another flick of the dial brought, “...these are the End Times, and the Faithful must stand resolved against the evil and sin of witchcraft...” Religious station.

Back to news.

“In the US Congress today, hearings on the Nellis Uprising brought forth an acrimonious political battle admist protests and counterprotests outside Capitol Hill, though pro-emergent protesters seemed to take the brunt of the force from District of Columbia police who seemed to only arrest the most vociferous and violent of anti-Emergent demonstrators. Mothers of Emergents president Martha Collins , who helped organize the demonstration said that her organization and its supporters did not throw the first punch, and that she deplores the violence. On the internet, some commenters believe that the authorities are taking sides in the protest.”

Brian flicked off the dial, “So it's bad.”

Cutter chewed her lip a moment, considering what he said, and nodded, “Yep.”

“So what do we do?” That was Horns, but Feathers, the girl with the bandaged wound, seemed to be looking on as well.

It was, surprisingly, Brian that answered him, “We get to whichever city we can with people that will support us, link up with Mothers of Emergents and similar groups. And if they're going to treat us all as armed and dangerous, I reckon,” Texas drawl here, “we gotta learn to use the weapons we have.”

I AM MAGUS, his mind thundered, in satisfaction, as if making him accept reality was the whole point of the exercise.

Then, he turned to Daina, asking, "So, uh, Daina, right? You look familiar, were you the one that helped me out after...uh, shit went blank?" He wasn't quite ready to explain what he'd been seeing and hearing when everyone else was busy saving his life.

After the woman had helped the boy up, the rest of the group from the front came back to join their conversation and to see who the new people were. Daina nodded towards the arriving group, a man with horns and another one with glasses. A blond woman, not much older than herself, and the elderly woman who had helped her. The ones further back Daina couldn't really see properly from the floor where she was sitting next to Brian.

She spaced out while the discussion took place, about the surrounding worlds view on the uprising at Nellis, resting her head against the seat that she was leaning against, content with just listening for the time being. She realized that their options were indeed limited, and that it would be more difficulties to come. But she had survived for now, and she intended to continue living, so when Brian came up with a plan to try to join the few groups out there that were sportive of Emergents, then her focus returned to the conversation. Then he turned to her and she cleared her throat.

"Yeah.. I did. Me and an elderly man, gray hair.. He's not here is he?" she asked the woman then continued. "He was the one who told me to help him carry you..."
She brushed her dreads back behind her ear with her healthy arm. The motion made her grimace having her hurt arm move slightly, but she was too tired to feel the full extent of the injury."Did he make it on?" she looked up at the standing ones to see if he would step forward, but no one did and the horned man shook his head then said with a sigh,
"He was gunned down after he helped me and two others onto the bus. Damned military. Damned hellhole, and this whole situation." and slunk down into a chair.

Daina looked at him and fel the reality sink in again. People actually died, and she was lucky not to have died. She closed her eyes and her head tipped back once more, and groaned quietly.
"How much time do you think we have before they comb the desert completely?" She asked. She was starting to feel nauseous again, and she noticed that the improvised bandage was turning red. She lifted her other hand up in a waving gesture to catch the womans attention. "So, this..." She nodded down to her arm. "Is still happening."

Brian shrugged, "No idea." And it was true; he wasn't a military guy or any of that.

Someone else piped in, "They sound like they're still pulling their heads out of their asses, and I bet the guys that are actually having to go out and look aren't as macho about doing it as the politicians and that preacher are -- I mean did you guys see what I saw? The freakin' giant earth monsters smashing vehicles? Who can fight that?" Female, younger.

Brian shrugged again while Daina's bandage got attention. He accepted that as truth, though he wasn't there to see it, "I didn't see any of it. I blacked out," he admitted that sheepishly, though there was a sense of guild there -- was the catatonia linked to the summoning of the things other described? He wasn't sure.

Meanwhile, the bus was making its way through desert and more desert -- sometime during the day, they crossed from Nevada into Utah along roads that were, fairly heavy with traffic. They had to stop the bus eventually to get some diesel, and it was just like that the guy driving it had a commercial drivers' license, though he wasn't carrying it on him. They needed something to eat, a place to sleep, gas for the bus...all of this was confronting them all at once, and there seemed to be a diversity of opinions on how to do it. The argument whiled away the hours for some, while others looked out the windows in a frequent and shaky watch for military vehicles or police on the horizon; but for a highway patrol once in a while, they didn't see anything of that nature, which was a good sign.

Brian wasn't a participant in these conversations. He wasn't sure which way to go, and he had other things to weigh in on his mind. Others were the same way, of course, so he fit right in with the silent and brooding contingent, curled up in places on the bus where they could find the comfort, or discomfort,

"We can drive this bus to where we're going, but we gotta get off this thing soon, it's hot," the driver, a guy named Smalls, a long-haul trucker from Nebraska, told them, "and eventually, they're gonna get it together and put out information on the missing vehicles. "Thing is, we can drop this thing off, but we need another ride."

Brian was awake enough for that shit -- and did the 'oh shit' face. He wasn't sure what they'd do.

"So what are the options?" someone asked; the little guy with the receding hair.

Smalls shrugged, "Well shit, we either turn this bus over to some shady types that'll take a stolen bus and do something with it and hope we can get transportation or we leave this one when we steal another. There are repair shops for busses all over the place along these roads, we can probably find something. It's up to you all..."

Choices. They had them. But they all stank.

Having kept to herself during the ride for the most of the time, with the occasional checkup by Cutter, Daina thought about the development of the situation. It was true what they had been talking about from time to time, that their vehicle was becoming more of a target the more time they spent on it. What worried Daina the most was how to get on with her life now that she was free. She was hunted and she couldn't really trust anyone aside from the other Emergents in the same situation as her. So when they crossed into Utah, she knew that she had to bring the question up, and moved up to the others.

"When we dump the bus, is it wise to stick together, or should we split up again? Finding a vehicle for the 11 of us will definitely be difficult, and the crowd may be suspicious.." she said. Then it dawned upon her. Even if most of them could pretend not to be Emergents, Daina's talon feet, and Simon's horns and tusks were near impossible to hide. They would definitely not be able to pretend to be normal, because of their physical appearance. “Not that me and Simon won’t be suspicious anyway..”

She sighed. She was scared, like the others, and she still didn’t know what use her talons were, aside from the strong grip they provided her with. Her wound was still trying to heal, but it was slow and still hurt, and she had noticed lumps on her back. And now, she couldn’t even be guaranteed food, or some relative safety. Perhaps it had been better to stay at Nellis.

Cutter spoke up with a dry voice. “I believe that we should stick together. Daina and Simon can’t publically display themselves without being noticed, and if we ever get into a situation where we had to pretend to be normal, they would be the first ones taken out. “She paused then looked at Daina with a spark in her eye. “We could use that to our advantage. Depending on how the town looks, and if we have to take the resort of stealing another bus, they could act as an distraction, until we get what we want, and then we’d come after them.”

“A distraction!?” Daina was surprised to have even heard what she heard. To be a distraction would put her at risk, and perhaps even force her to death if unlucky! And here she had thought all the time that they were allies.

“I refuse to be a target” Simon joined her with his deep voice. “We just got out from prison and I don’t have any plans on going back any time soon.”

“Oh, no. Me neither. Nu-huh.” Daina said, frustrated and confused by the thought of being captured again. Only a few seconds earlier she had let the thought pass her that staying at Nellis was a Good idea. Now she felt the complete opposite.

There was an argument over the tactics that Brian was vaguely aware of while he practiced the meditation he'd learned, ironically, at Nellis. The containment camp threw Emergents together and a lot of them, Brian included, spent time learning to do sitting and standing meditation, Yoga, Tai Chi, anything that might increase their consciousness of the powers they saw at work in the world. For the most part, it was simply a relaxing pasttime for prisoners when they weren't doing pullups or pushups off something or jogging – anything to say sane, right? – around the perimeter of the camp.

The meditation was different now, though, it had this flavor of bringing a buzz at the back of his head into greater clarity, and he felt almost a sensation of stretching himself that he'd never experienced before in this sense. They'd talk about Qi, but you didn't see Qi, other people didn't see Qi.

Now, when Brian did it, one saw the effect – the glowing around the eyes became more pronounced as he seemed to draw it in. Was he able to do anything besides make his eyes glow? No.

But it was one of the others, a guy from the Baltimore ghetto that went, “Whut da fuck!?” and suddenly everyone was staring at Brian's eyes.

“Hey, how did you do that?” someone asked him.

“I don't know, I just sort of...well, clear my mind and start to concentrate and bring things...together? I'm not sure how to describe it.” Brian trailed off wistfuly, apparently somewhat frustrated at the inability to articulate how it felt, like he was drawing from a massive current of electricity and he was a battery, storing up the energy for use.

And suddenly, Cutter had a better idea than using Daina and Simon for bait. She was going to use Brian to intimidate.

“You can control that, Brian?” she asked intently.

“I think I can. Anyone got a mirror?” One of the other people in the bus had a compact makeup kit, which was handed to him already opened. He gave it a moment and repeated the steps, finding the next time easier than the last and so forth, though this time, he watched himself in the mirror that was provided.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, “I can control it.”

–---

In the end, there was no real option for stealing a bus – too big, too obvious. But there was a used car lot on the outskirts of town, which meant it was a ways from where the cops were. It was off the main roads leading to the highway, which meant that it was remote and not too busy looking. The outskirts of Cedar City were dark, and there was almost no light out there – it was easy to see the stars, in all their incandescent grandeur across the sky, while in the desert, but there were also the sounds of the desert at night – the chittering of insects, the sound of the wind moving sand and the occasional rattle of a snake. By night, the desert was alive, and the Emergents could feel a thrum of power here, something they couldn't quite put their finger on, but it made them edgy.

A closer inspection of the used car dealership yielded a more interesting result – the place had notices posted up regarding bankruptcy despite the full lot of cars. There was a chain link fence, but Brian and some of the others were perfectly capable of climbing that if it came down to that.

It didn't come down to that; the gate was closed, but it was hardly closed and certainly not locked – the bold, black lettering on a slightly curled page taped up on the fence read, “PROPERTY OF FELLS LARGO BANK” and a bunch of legalese in smaller print on the sign.

“We're in luck,” Smalls muttered to Brian, “That means that the bank owns all this shit,” and then he explained, “No one's gonna give a fuck if some big bank loses some vehicles – it might not even get reported for a while if we grab them. We just gotta deal with the night security guy, if there is one. We can be in Cali and ditch the cars before they even are wise to the heist.”

He shrugged uncomfortably, rolling shoulders and a heavy sort of paunchy look – but the guy had lots of small tattoos on his muscular arms, despite the potbelly. The guy had some African-American ancestry, with the kinked hair, but he was light-skinned. In any case, he continued, “I used to boost cars and I did a decade of time in Philly. So yeah, I know what the fuck I'm doing.” He admitted that nervously, because most of the Emergents were not experienced criminals, despite having had recent experience with being put through the system with less than a keen appreciation for due process.

“It's cool man, that means you know what you're doing,” Brian told Smalls, “So what do I do here?”

“Try talking to whoever they got doing night security here – maybe it's someone that works for the car dealership and is gonna lose their job thanks to these banker fucks. Get him on our side, it could be crucial, yo.”

“What about you? I mean, you know how to do this, why don't you talk to the guy, Smalls?”

“Well shit man, Cutter told you to do it. Don't worry, you're a clean cut white boy, that's the guy you send out to do the talking, especially in these parts, man. Besides, you speak the language – you sound like you're from out here in the West man.”

Brian didn't have a good response to that, except to shrug; he wasn't enamored of the plan.

They didn't bother to conceal their approach at this point, and it turned out the night watchman was an older dude with long hair and a beard, which was a bit of a sign in Utah – the state tended to be very clean cut and Mormon. But this guy wasn't white, like the typical Utah resident either – he was darker skinned with a large nose, and the eyes were large and dark, watching carefully. Hispanic, or perhaps something else, but not a white mormon type, who tended be very rah-rah government and law abiding.

Brian, with his blonde looks and a bit of a tan and a West Texas drawl was, as Smalls pointed out, very all-American. He was college, but not the snooty skinny-jeans wearing kind that put noses out of joint out West; he was a slightly taller-than-average good ole boy with white straight teeth that didn't seem like some ivy league hipster. After all, he attended University of Texas, or did before some Pi Kappa Alpha bros tackled him for glowing.

“Y'all are out pretty late,” the security guy observed – he had a .45 on his hip, the 1911 type with the wooden grips and all steel construction, but he had a flashlight in hand, “this here is private property, so I'd take it kindly if y'all cleared on out of here.”

“Well, we're a bit lost and we're not from around here, sir,” Brian started.

“Yeah, I can see that. But you gotta clear out all the same. This area ain't safe out for folk anyway, of late.”

“How so?”

“Ancestor spirits of the Paiute, son, they're all over the place, and some animal spirits too. I'm half Paiute and my wife's registered with the tribe, so the spirits ain't touchin' me, but you...well, yeah.”

“That's true,” Brian pointed out, “But here's the facts – we're out of Nevada and we're headed toward California.”

“Took the long way around, didn't you?”

“That's right.”

“I think I know why, son, and if that's the case, I sympathize with what happened, because we've had it happen to us too, but you're the kind of trouble we don't need around here.”

Brian grunted a bit, and some of the others started to shuffle a bit, but it was Brian who spoke, “Well, we're just trying to get the hell out of here. The faster that happens, the better off everyone is.”

“So what's your plan after you get out?”

“Gotta get the government heat off, man. We're getting hunted like fucking animals. You know anything about that?” Brian figured it was a good time to lay the cards on the table.

“Yeah, I know something about it. Things ain't getting better for us now that the entire country is freaking out. It might not happen to us today, but it seems to be coming. So what's your plan?”

“Not sure. But there's power in numbers and there's gotta be a way to do this without turning into a free for all where people just get killed because of the hate in their hearts. I've seen Nellis man, we can't keep doing that.”

The old man cocked his head and peered at him carefully for a moment before nodding, as if a decision were being made, “Well, look, the bank was supposed to come take possession a few weeks ago, but all this hoopla stirred things up, and it seems like it's better for everyone if we get you the hell out. Bad enough with the whites right now that they're blaming every loose spirit on us. If you pop up, we're really in trouble. Just do me a favor...”

“What?”

“I need you to tie me up. My wife is gonna pick me up in the morning, so let's make this convincing, and you'll have all night to drive before anything gets reported.”

"Sure about this?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. No one gives a damn if the bank loses a few cars except the bank, and they put people out of work when they foreclosed on this place. It'll take a while to report anything missing and get anything done about it. Just be careful uh..."

Brian put out his hand, “Deal. Name's Brian Underwood. I want to know yours so I can thank you for this someday when the smoke clears.” There was another undertone – that of a sort of pact being made. This was an alliance, in a fashion, being forged in some backwater Utah used car lot with an old man, but it was at least a start. The Emergents needed all the allies they could get.

“John Bullet. Just don't remember me until -after- the federal government doesn't want you anymore. Got me?” the older man told Brian as they shook hands on the deal.

“I name 'who, what, didn't catch that' my friend. How's that?” responded Brian with a grin.

“That'll do, kid. That'll do,” the old man grinned.

–---

The old Paiute, John Bullet, apparently took a shine to Brian, because Brian and Smalls had the best car of the bunch, an old '73 Pontiac GTO in exquisite condition, though rigged with modern radio and so forth without taking away from the vintage aspect, with the 455-horsepower engine, which meant that it had serious power on the road. Others had different vehicles, but the Pontiac was only large enough for five packed in; Cutter, Smalls, Simon Horns, Brian and Daina.

“Fuck, serious wheels,” muttered Smalls, “Nice fuckin' job. Hope that guy's okay.”

“I hope so too, he's sticking his neck out for us,” Brian said as he hung up a little dream-catcher that the old man insisted on handing Brian – for luck, the dude said, while moving through 'his' country. Brian wasn't sure what to say to that, except to thank the guy.

“Yeah, no shit, but like he said – he's an Indian and they take shit from the US government too. And that guy made it sound like they've got a lot of magic stuff going on up at the reservation. This land is their land, after all.”

“Good catch,” Cutter muttered, as Smalls brought the engine to life – there was a CD player loaded up in the car already, and they had a few old CD's that were left in there, mostly classic rock type shit. Cutter was rummaging them, even as she stopped to hand one to Brian, in the passenger seat.

“Seems appropriate.” Other cars were moving out of the parking lot in the night, headed for wherever the occupants decided to go – the Nellis escapees had to pick their routes themselves now, but Smalls, Cutter, Daina and Brian decided to head for Frisco.

It was Steppenwolf's "Magic Carpet Ride" and it growled on the speakers as Smalls peeled out of the lot and hit the highway, the engine giving a roar of exultation as they put fast miles between them and Nellis, onward to freedom...