Sierra Motín by William du Jour

Sierra Motín by William du Jour

“I’m going to bomb this casino.”

A breath of the cold mountain wind brought another wave of mist against the man’s face. Staring absent-mindedly into the darkness, a wet cigarette fell from the corner of his mouth and hit the ground, lingering for a brief moment before a gust of wind rolled it off the edge of the smoking deck.

“I thought I’d find you out here,” a gruff voice said.

A tall silhouette approached, walking to the deck railing where he gazed at the dark expanse beneath them. The barren land leading to the base of the mountain was as dead at night as it was during the day, save for the single vein of car lights that circulated the lifeblood of any casino resort: Gamblers. The man pulled his coat about himself as another wave of freezing mist assailed the deck.

“How much did you lose?”

“That last hand? Five thousand. I don’t remember the two hands before you walked up.”

The gambler slumped in his chair. He was a short man, and the enormous stature of his companion made him look downright small in comparison. He suddenly straightened and pounded his fist on the table.

“The dealer got twenty-one four times in a row, what are the odds of that happening?”

“It happens, we’ve both seen it before. You never did learn to quit when you’re ahead, did you?”

The small man leaned forward with tears in his eyes.

“I’m serious, I’m going to bomb this casino tonight. We have enough explosives left over from the job and this is our last night in country. Instead of offloading the excess to local illiterates for pennies on the dollar, let’s actually put it to use. Come on, play along and I’ll owe you.”

The tall man took a seat across from him and sighed.

“What’s your plan? We don’t have nearly enough explosives to do major structural damage to this building. And I hope I don’t have to remind you; this is a casino. There’s more cameras and security on this mountain than anywhere else in this backwater country.”

“I’m not trying to demolish the building, just cause enough damage to cover the money they took from me. Think of it as petty vandalism with a message, like those ridiculous graffiti artists we saw today. As for the location?” He smiled. “We’ll plant the explosives in the one place without cameras: The restroom.”

The tall man sat in silence for a few moments before shrugging.

“Why not, it’ll make for a good story.”

“I love you!” the small man shouted, standing up so suddenly he knocked over the patio table. “I’ll grab explosives from the trunk and meet you in the restroom by the blackjack tables.”

“You’re drunk and in no shape to make it to the parking lot and back, especially while carrying explosives. Go to the restroom and scope it out; I’ll retrieve the briefcase and meet you there.”

The small man rose to his feet and glided through the door, instantly transporting himself from the bleak mountainside into the world of flashing lights, sounds, and warmth that is the casino and immediately felt alive again. He walked past the blackjack tables without a second glance. Continuing down the hallway to the restrooms, strobing lights from the endless array of slot machines seemed to pulse to the beat of electronic music playing over the speakers. His footsteps and even heartbeat began to beat with the music, and as the liquor swirled inside of him, he stumbled into the restroom in what could only be described as a state of ecstasy.

The restroom was empty.

“One bomb to a toilet should do,” he giggled, walking to the stalls and kicking each door open. Still giggling, he closed the last stall door and spun around to see an old man staring at him with large, wide eyes.

“Go-Good evening, sir,” he stuttered. “I, uh, was just checking to see if there were any open stalls.”

The old man moved forward a step, his eyes still wide and unblinking.

“Move…” he started faintly. “I need… move this mountain-“

With that he collapsed, and the small man barely had time to catch his body before it hit the floor. As he caught the man, his hand brushed across something hard on his back. Laying the man’s limp body to the floor on its side, a chill ran down his spine as he saw a large steak knife protruding from the man’s back. Before he had a chance to react, the restroom door opened and the tall man walked in.

The suitcase of explosives dropped to the ground with a dull thud.

“You idiot! I leave you alone for five minutes…”

“I didn’t do anything; he stumbled in here with the knife already in his back!”

The tall man sighed heavily and leaned against a sink.

“Let’s take a deep breath and weigh our options here.”

“They’ll think I killed him!” the small man said in a panic. “Let’s throw the body on a toilet, lock the stall door, and leave the country.”

“Think,” the tall man said. “We’re in a casino with hundreds of cameras covering every inch of this place. There’s footage of you walking into the restroom well before this stiff. You’re safe, the correct move to make in this situation is to call security. Wait here and don’t move a muscle. I’ll alert them.”

As his partner left, he found himself drawn to the dead man’s still-open wide eyes. He moved his hand over the man’s face, closing them. Leaning back with a sigh, he looked back at the dead man and realized with a start that his eyes were once again open! Without a blink an arm shot out and grabbed him with a terrible force.

“Descend… And… set the captives free!” the old man gasped. “I wasn’t able to do it myself.”

His shaking hands shoved two items against the man’s chest before his eyes closed for the last time. Still holding the man’s body in his arms, he barely had time to pocket the items as the restroom door opened and security rushed in.

& & &

“And a Queen makes twenty-five, dealer busts. Good bets gentleman.”

After a white-gloved hand distributed stacks of chips to the players, a handsome young man gathered his chips into a small pile and pushed them to the center of the blackjack table.

“Color me up please.”

“One hundred and twenty dollars to player three. Have a good evening, Ralph.”

Ralph took the chips and stuffed them in his jacket pocket as he stood up. As he left the table, he made eye contact with a black-robed priest standing nearby.

“You’ll never win if you keep making gambles like that,” the Priest said as he passed. “But then again, you’re not really here to gamble, are you?”

He stopped in his tracks and eyed the Priest.

“Perceptive, aren’t you?” Ralph said after a pause. “Tell me this, what is a Priest doing in a casino? I’d think that would be against the rules.”

“I’m here for business tonight, not pleasure. A man of the faith passed away here and I was called to administer last rites. Regrettably, he passed away before I arrived. Because my work here is done and I have nothing better to do tonight, I decided to linger for a favorite hobby of mine: People watching.” The Priest paused a moment. “You love her, don’t you?”

Ralph narrowed his eyes.

“Listen, you’re a Priest. That means anything I confess, you aren’t allowed to tell anyone, right?”

“Per the Seal of Confession, I am unable to share anything said during a confession.”

“Will you hear my confession then?” Ralph lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’m about to commit a crime.”

“Of course, let’s make our way to someplace quieter. How about the smoking deck?”

An uncomfortable silence settled as they sat down in two chairs near an overturned table.

“Something tells me,” the Priest started, “That if you were to commit a crime, it would be out of love.”

“Is it that obvious?” Ralph sighed. “I was here for a blackjack tournament earlier this year. She was the dealer at the final table, and there was something… enchanting about her. I didn’t win the tournament, but I fell hopelessly in love with her. But you know how this damned mountain works; her and her family are indentured servants. They are treated well but will never step foot off this mountain. The only time we are able to speak is while she is working.”

The Priest laughed. “That’s why you kept taking the dealer’s bust cards! You wanted to create a string of bad luck and make the other players switch to another table, leaving just the two of you alone!”

“Other people eventually take their place, sometimes only minutes later. But for that short window we’re alone together at the blackjack table; I live for those moments. You saw how I play, that’s not really gambling. You see, the real gamble, the biggest gamble of my life; I’ll make exactly one hour from now. I can’t let her stay on this mountain and grow old alone like some sort of… secular nun,” he spat. “No offense of course. I’m taking her away tonight; we’re running away and never looking back.”

“That is quite the gamble,” the Priest replied. “Theft of casino property. Neither of us are native to this country, but surely you are aware of the punishment thieves receive here?”

“Their hands are cut off,” Ralph said cooly. “Tell me,” he said, leaning forward in his chair. “Have you ever heard the story of the two generals who were going to be slightly late for a battle? The punishment for being late to any government job was death. The two generals consulted with each other and asked themselves what the punishment for rebellion was. The punishment was also death. In light of this, both chose to rebel. The point is that I’ll be facing the punishment for theft regardless, so before I walk out those front doors with casino property, I’m robbing the cashiers for every dollar they have. Then the two of us will drive to the nearest country without extradition and start a life together.

“It can’t come soon enough. Despite all the time I spend here, I hate places like this. I’m sure you often see people at their worst as part of your priestly duties. But places like this institutionalize it. This mountain is a blight on the land. As runoff from mines contaminate the nearby rivers and forests on the opposite side of the mountain, the casino on this side creeps inside people and corrupts the very morals and lives of those it touches.”

Ralph went up to the railing and gazed down at the never-ending line of cars coming and going.

“And yet the people never stop coming here on their sick pilgrimage, like sheep to the slaughter. The world would be a better place if this mountain was picked up and cast someplace far away. When I was a child, my grandmother made me a little blanket with the Bible verse about faith moving mountains embroidered on it. You’re telling me if I simply had enough faith, I could physically move this mountain?”

“Well,” the Priest faltered. “Yes, you could.”

Ralph burst into laughter. “Exactly the answer I’d expect from a priest. But how exactly-“

“I disagree,” came a gruff voice behind them. A tall silhouette was outlined in the doorway for a moment before he moved onto the patio, followed closely by a smaller man.

“With this young man’s pessimistic view of the casino, not your theology, of course,” the tall man said in response to the Priest’s glare. “I’m attracted to liminal spaces like this; It’s a beautiful place where reason and logic are thrown aside in exchange for impossible dreams. Smirk all you want priest, but it’s not that different from your profession. There is no place on earth that cultivates faith as much as a casino, not even one of your churches. In fact, I fail to see any difference between the two. A building open twenty-four hours a day and everyone is welcome, as long as you bring cash!”

“Please, I am in the process of confession. Give us ten minutes and I can speak with you then.”

“Forgive the intrusion Father,” the tall man said, reaching into his coat pocket. “But I don’t have ten minutes, it’s quite literally a matter of life and death.”

He withdrew a revolver that gleamed silver even in the dim outdoor lighting.

The Priest stiffened.

“The small amount of change between the two of us isn’t worth stealing,” he said slowly. “There is no reason we cannot be on amicable terms just because of our current situation. Tell me, what are your names?”

“I’m Tall, and he’s Small.”

“Yeah, we can see that,” Ralph quipped. “He asked what your names were.”

“Sit beside the Priest,” Small snarled, withdrawing an identical revolver and pointing it at Ralph, who immediately complied.

“It isn’t exactly original,” Tall admitted. “But people in our line of work don’t use their actual names while out on business.”

“And just what is your line of business?” the Priest asked. “Burglary? Terrorism?”

A smile came over Small’s face. “Have you seen those spy movies? We do what that guy does.”

“Yeah,” Tall said, slapping Small on the back. “Except this guy is terrible with the ladies, and even worse at gambling!”

Small glared at Tall before turning his attention back to the Priest.

“What can you tell us about these two items? The inscription on one looks to be Latin.”

He took the items from Small’s outstretched hand and examined them. One was a gold necklace, the pendant being a representation of a robed man alongside some Latin text. The second item was a curiously shaped triangular key.

“This is an image of Sabbas the Goth,” he said, holding up the pendant. “He was an early Saint who was martyred for refusing to eat food that had been sacrificed to idols. The other item looks to be a universal building key, the type a maintenance worker or the like would use.”

The Priest paused. “These items belonged to the man who passed away tonight.”

“He died in my arms.” Small put the revolver in his waistband and sat in front of the Priest. “Listen, with his last breath he told me to ‘descend and set the captives free.’ What does that mean to you?”

“Looking at the puzzle pieces in front of us, it appears our late friend stumbled upon something sinister taking place in the lower levels of this casino, and was killed before he was able to stop it. If your mission is to fulfill a dying man’s wish, I feel that I have a duty to help you, on the condition that you let this young man go. There is something important he must do tonight.”

He turned to Ralph.

“We are sure to eventually cause a scene, if you are going to commit the crime you spoke of, it looks like you will have the perfect distraction tonight.”

“It’s settled then,” said Tall, who began to pace up and down the deck. “Our vague objective is somewhere in the lower levels. I suppose it’s simple enough, as long as we’re descending, we’re going in the right direction. But even with the help of this key we’re still at a distinct disadvantage. We have zero intel on this place, we’ll essentially be stumbling around in the dark hoping we find something.”

“Not entirely,” Ralph spoke up. “I’ve planned extensively for my crime tonight and memorized the building blueprints. The least conspicuous access point to the lower levels would be in a buffet area called the Gourmet Gardens.”

“That’s my boy!” Tall said with a grin, slapping him on the back.

Ralph rose to his feet.

“The dead man said something about captives? The love of my life is held captive here, the crime I’m committing tonight will set her free. But if there are others….” he trailed off.

“I have an obligation to help you as well.”

& & &

The unlikely party was transported to another world after walking under a large sign proclaiming the entrance of the Gourmet Gardens. Gone were the plaster walls, bright frescos, and marble columns, having been replaced by a blanket of greenery so lush that the ceiling itself was no longer visible through the dense treetop canopy. Even the casino ambience of music, chatter, and slot machines dissolved into a serene silence broken only by distant birdsong mixed with faint classical music.

A soft orange light in the distance beckoned though the darkened ambiance, and they followed an overgrown cobblestone path to its source. Beneath a tiki hut sat a middle-aged woman dressed in a casino uniform. Her large-rimmed glasses didn’t bother to look up from the desk as they approached. Ralph peered over the desk and motioned to the others to remain silent.

“Sixteen across: Speculation,” he finally said.

A wave of emotion spread across her face that was completely different from the indifference it had displayed only moments before. She straitened and beamed at Ralph with a large smile.

“I’ve been stuck on that for the last ten minutes! How can I help you?”

Ralph slid his player’s card on the desk.

“My friends and I would like to enter the Gourmet Gardens.”

“Ruby cardholders eat for free, but for the others it will be $40 a person.”

Ralph baulked. “$40 per person is highway robbery!”

“Then eat somewhere else,” she said, looking back down to her crossword. “You should have passed Harry’s Hotdog Stand on your way here. $40 is actually quite the steal for an all you can eat buffet of the finest foods of the continent. It’s so good that many of our patrons practically live here. Many people enter but I hardly ever see anyone leave…” she trailed off. “Hmm. Ten-letter synonym for rapacious…”

Tall gently nudged Ralph with his elbow as Small shuffled beside him. “Say, Ralph, this is embarrassing, but could you help us out? This was our last night in-country so we spent all our pocket money gambling.

“I suppose I could,” Ralph sighed, as the Priest loudly cleared his throat.

“Uhm, Ralph? Listen, I was called here on such short notice that I rushed out the door half asleep and neglected to bring my billfold. Would you be able to cover me as well?”

Ralph glared at the trio before turning back to the woman. Coughing up chips from his pocket, he placed them on the desk.

“I believe this should cover it.”

“Enjoy,” she said; the chips clanking as she dropped them into a metal drop box.

They walked through the true entrance past the tiki hut into a narrow hallway choked with more greenery. Two tuxedo-clad waiters spotted their approach and hurriedly rushed to them, each pushing a beverage cart.

“Welcome to the Gourmet Gardens sirs, the finest all you can eat dinner buffet on the continent. The Gardens consist of twelve locations strung along a trail, with the stations offering an interpretation of each course of a full twelve-course meal. Please, have an apéritif to stimulate your appetite.”

“Feel free to linger as long as you wish,” added the other waiter. “When you have the stomach for it, simply head down this trail to the next station, ‘Amuse-bouche’. The chef working tonight crafts hors d’oeuvres that are a must try. Eating them will trigger saliva production in your mouth, helping improve the taste of subsequent courses.”

Thanking them for the drinks, the party had hardly taken ten steps before the Priest turned around to cast a side-eyed glance at the waiters.

“Don’t drink or eat anything here,” he whispered. “There are countless anecdotes that highlight the danger of being trapped as a result of consuming food or drink in supernatural settings, ranging from ancient tales of Fairyland to our modern accounts of alien abductions.”

“Small!” Tall exclaimed, slapping him. “Did you not hear a word of what the man just said?”

“What?” Small replied, lowering his glass, indignant. “Ralph paid good money for us to be here, it’d be a crime to let this go to waste.”

The Priest scowled. “You ignored my obvious warning when our whole purpose here concerns trapped people!”

Tall mouthed something along the lines of ‘lost cause’ as he placed his glass on a table which Small immediately scooped up.

Leaving the first station behind, they began down another darkened path that was surrounded on all sides by vegetation. They passed a lamp protruding from an artificial tree that put out a gentle light. A short while later they passed another lamp, followed by another, then another, until they lost count and had lost all orientation.

“The overgrown vegetation makes it hard to tell, but does anyone else get the sense that we’re going in circles?” Tall asked.

“It’s a basic design rule, casinos don’t have ninety degree turns,” Ralph replied. “Any sharp turns activate the decision-making parts in your brain, which obviously runs counter to their intentions. But even so, something isn’t right. Where we’re walking right now shouldn’t exist according to the blueprints.”

“It’s subtle, but we’ve been descending at an angle, as if the path is in the shape of a corkscrew,” the Priest remarked.

The vegetation became sparser as they arrived to a sort of fork in the road. Down one well-worn path a warm series of lights were visible in the near distance. The other path was overgrown with a fence across it with a sign declaring ‘NO TRESSPASSING. They hopped the fence and quickly uncovered an elevator half-hidden by vines. Just to the right of the closed doors was a triangular key hole.

As the others cleared vines from the doors, Small solemnly held the key in hand before placing it in the keyhole and giving it a turn. The doors opened and as everyone quickly crammed inside, Ralph pressed the very last in a long line of buttons on the elevator panel and the doors closed.

“The lowest level is where we find our answers, right?”

They watched each elevator light blink as they went down, when the light unexpectedly stopped five floors from the bottom. Unprompted, the doors opened into a short hallway leading to an open room where a man sat behind a desk. The man rose to his feet and outstretched a hand.

“Ralph Estrada, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person. Please, come in, there’s no need to be shy,” he said as they filed into the spacious office. “I am the President of this casino, feel free to call me ‘El Presidente’ in the fashion of the locals. I’ve been watching you play blackjack for a while now. You have an… interesting play style. As for the rest of you, you’ve been on my radar all night. Although,” he paused. “For the life of me, I just can’t figure out what you are up to.”

A moment of awkward silence passed. Ralph looked at the Priest, and then back to El Presidente.

“We’re planning on moving a mountain tonight.”

“It seems I underestimated you,” El Presidente said, withdrawing a bottle of champagne and several glasses. “The knowledge you have about this mountain’s true nature is uncanny. Tell me, what is the most wonderful thing in the world?”

Ralph eyed the conspicuous golden scale on the President’s desk and took a guess.

“Balance.”

El Presidente popped open the bottle of champagne, the cork flying up and ricocheting off the ceiling and landing on the floor.

“Balance. The ancients believed that the body was divided into four humors. An equilibrium between these four humors resulted in perfect health for the body. An imbalance, on the other hand, would result in illness.” He placed a glass on each arm of the scale, and then poured champagne into one, making its arm lower as the other rose into the air. “If one were to address the factors affecting one of his humors disproportionally, be it diet, geographical location, or even the amount of blood in his veins, and bring his humors back into equilibrium…” He poured champagne into the empty glass until the scale was brought into balance. “Then eucrasia, or normal health, could once again be achieved.

“You might ask me why I decided to build a casino. It was born out of the need for a personal balance. I am not a blue-collar man, I needed something… sexy to offset the industrial drab of mining. A mine on one side of the mountain, and a casino on the other. Take a wild guess which side I spend the majority of my time on.”

“You’re right, it is sexy!” Small interrupted. “Just like those spy movies, there’s always a casino scene!”

“From first glance I never would have imagined you to be a man of such taste,” El Presidente replied. “I’ll admit I developed a sort of obsession with those films. There were times I almost believed I was him. If I needed to make a tough decision, I would always pause to ask myself ‘WWJD?’ That is, What Would James Do?” He added, smiling as the Priest rolled his eyes.

“On a more serious note, I just spoke of a personal need for balance between blue- and white-collar work in my life. This mountain, it has a similar need. Some of the largest gold veins in the world can be found right here, but mining it upsets some sort of invisible internal balance. The natives had always feared and avoided this mountain, and for good reason. Minor earthquakes occurred when the first truckloads of gold left, and increased in intensity as shipments continued. It was as if the mountain itself was protesting the gold’s removal, which resulted in this mountain being named Motín, or Riot.

“Frantic research on our part determined that the material itself being removed was not the issue as initially suspected, but rather the literal weight leaving the mountain was the root cause of the instability. As weight was being removed, the earthquakes were actually from the mountain lifting itself from the earth, similar to when a hot air balloon rises into the air as its sandbags are dropped. The problem was resolved by following this simple rule: For every pound of material taken from this mountain, a pound of material must be replaced.”

He turned and pointed to a large level mounted on the wall. There was a small green area that an arrow was pointing to while the rest was colored red.

“If the level is even, the mountain is stable, as it is presently. But the more the scale tips in another direction, the more violent the earthquakes get. Now, would the mountain actually fly away if enough weight was removed from it?” He paused and smiled. “I’m not sure, but I never intend to let it get to that point.”

A faint train whistle sounded in the far distance.

“Ah, if you will, please excuse me, its feeding time.”

El Presidente pulled a lever and the floor beneath them began slowly retracting, shedding its skin to reveal a pane of plexiglass underneath the flooring. Through the glass, five stories below, could be seen a lingering crowd of comically fat people, and a rail that ran through the center of the area. Another whistle blared in the distance and the crowd vibrated with excitement.

“Welcome to the heart of the Gourmet Gardens.”

A train entered the area and rolled to a stop. As the car doors slid open a collective roar of ecstasy erupted with such might it rumbled through the plexiglass. The frenzied crowd pushed, kicked, and punched their way to the train cars to throw themselves inside, where they grabbed armfuls of food before retreating back to a side of the room away from the action, where they would hunch over and quickly begin shoving handfuls of food into their mouths.

Ralph placed a hand on the plexiglass floor. “You’re holding these people prisoner.”

“A casino is an ideal place to select for individuals with poor impulse control, but ultimately, they are prisoners only of their own devices. No one is being held against their will, there’s no locks on any of these doors. And let’s face it, none of the people you see below you are going to win the Nobel Peace Prize. Here they serve a purpose and everyone’s happy, I get weight for my scale, and they live a comfortable life. I treat them very well; they are worth their weight in gold after all.”

“But that isn’t a life at all!” Small retorted. “These people are worth so much more than paperweights, and that’s exactly what my friend thought. Who, I might add, wasn’t likely to make a significant impact in this life as a janitor, but defied the odds when he acted against something wrong that he saw and kickstarted this chain of events. If even just one of the people below us could make the smallest impact in this life they all should be freed, even if it’s only one out of a thousand. After all, isn’t that the true spirit of the casino, and life itself? You can’t truly win or even lose if you never play the game. They deserve to at least have a chance.”

“They’ve had their chance, as have you. And you’ve both squandered it,” El Presidente concluded, rising to his feet. “The same goes for that fool of a janitor I had killed tonight for sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. Ultimately, why did I bother telling you all that I did? Perhaps it’s a human weakness, the inclination to confess. But I don’t run a charity here, and I’m tired of your moralizing. Feel free to release them yourselves, if you’re able to navigate the labyrinth that is my gardens, and not to mention getting through the legion of guards I’ve summoned to this location.”

El Presidente pressed a button on his desk and a massive steel barricade slammed down between them, completely isolating him from the party. Tall turned and frantically shook the doorknob of the exit.

“Locked! We’re sitting ducks in here. It’s doubtful we can save ourselves, let alone thousands of others.”

“That is, unless we take the direct route.”

Small gestured to the plexiglass beneath their feet, unlatched the briefcase he had been carrying and began unloading the explosives.

“You know better than anyone that a blast in this confined of an area will kill us all!”

“Look,” Small retorted. “We’re all at a casino tonight for a reason, right? To gamble. Except for you of course, Father,” he said, slapping his back. “In your case, you better have faith.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Right now?” he asked with a blank stare. “Yes.”

Ralph overturned a large bookshelf and everyone leapt for cover as Small rested his hand on a small plunger.

There was a deafening roar and blast of searing heat, followed by a sense of free fall that seemed to last an eternity. Ralph was unable to catch his breath before he plunging into a cool, thick liquid that filled his mouth as he attempted to breathe. Panic overtook him as he attempted to orientate himself, unsure of which direction was up or down. He took a guess and swam through the thick mixture with all his might until he broke through the surface, coughing and wheezing for air.

“Pudding!” exclaimed someone to his right.

Ralph wiped his eyes to see the Priest beside him, covered in a thick chocolate sludge.

“Talk about a miracle! Our fall was softened by a cartload of chocolate pudding that just happened to be under us!”

“Chocolate pudding I almost drowned in!” Ralph exclaimed. “Where are the other two?”

At that moment Tall and Small broke the surface of the pudding with a gasp, choking for air as they wiped whipped cream from their faces.

“We have to move; we only have a few minutes to act before security converges on this location. Quickly, get out of this cart and go to the conductor’s cabin on the lead locomotive!”

With some effort they swam through the pudding, making their way to the edge of the cart. Hurling themselves over the side, they landed with a plop, each leaving a chocolate outline where he landed.

A string of obscenities rang out, and they looked back to see Small sucker punch an enormously obese woman, who was still smiling with a chocolate outline around her mouth.

“She bit me! She saw I was covered in pudding and bit me!” Small wailed.

“You always did have a way with the ladies,” Tall cackled.

“I don’t think this is a laughing matter,” Ralph said nervously. “Look at the way the others are looking at us.”

They had attracted the attention of every one of the gargantuan Gourmet Garden patrons, who were all slowly waddling toward them with hunger in their eyes.

“We have twelve bullets between us,” Tall said, eyeing his revolver. “That’s not enough to take all of them down.”

“Maybe if we down one or two, they’ll start eating those bodies and leave us alone?” Small suggested.

“Stop!” Ralph exclaimed. “These aren’t zombies, these are people. Have you forgotten the speech in their defense that you literally just gave? Save your bullets, pick up debris from the explosion and we can at least fend them off while we escape.”

Small, the Priest, and Ralph picked up debris from the bookshelf that had shielded them from the blast, wielding them as clubs and stakes, while Tall picked up a large piece of what had been a section of the floor and used the plexiglass as a riot shield, protecting them as they advanced to the lead train car, throwing his bodyweight at any of the assailants who dared approach and sending them reeling backwards.

They boarded the conductor’s cab at the front of the train as Tall continued to hold off assailants. Small inserted the key into a triangular hole beside the ignition and the train roared to life. He pushed the speed lever forward and a train whistle sounded out as the train lurched forward with a jolt.

Within a moment they entered a tunnel and experienced the terrifying feeling of rushing through darkness completely blind, save for the dim lights of exhaust ports that occasionally flashed by. After several long minutes red and blue flashing lights could be seen in the distance as they passed a series of signs.

“Those signs say to reduce speed, there’s a docking bay ahead,” the Priest shouted. “If we don’t slow down now, we’re going to crash!”

“And get stabbed to death by security?” Tall retorted. “I’ll take my chances with a crash. Everyone, brace for impact!”

Panicked shouts from the security team could be heard even over the din of the rushing train in the enclosed tunnel, and everyone in the conductor’s cab hunkered down and awaited collision.

& & &

Small emerged from the smoking train and stumbled over a half-crushed slot machine that was rapidly flashing and spitting out a continuous stream of paper bills. The train had burst onto the main casino floor and came to a stop fifty meters from the entrance, leaving a thick black line of destruction in its wake through the luxurious red carpet, with gaming tables and slot machines alike falling victim.

Their dramatic appearance on the casino floor seemed to have damaged the main electronics system. The few lights that still worked flickered rapidly every few seconds through the dense smoke, and the pulsing, distorted music seemed an incantation that summoned dark figures to rise from the debris. Completely shaken, Small began backing up to the train.

“Ta-Ta-Tall!!”

As the casino patrons rose to their feet and began fleeing out the main doors, Tall staggered from the train and grabbed Small by the shoulders.

“My eye, how’s my eye look?” he pleaded.

“You’ve got a nice black eye, something hit you during the impact?”

“Someone flew out the window when we crashed through the wall and their foot hit me in the face!”

Small frowned.

“They may be dead then. Did you see that Priest or the kid when you crawled o-“

A volley of gunshots interrupted him, and the duo leapt behind an overturned blackjack table as a line of uniformed guards took up firing positions by the casino bar.

“Security!” Tall spit. “They have us pinned.”

A primal roar more terrible than gunfire shook the room as a mass poured through the hole in the wall caused by the train. They swept over the floor as a deep and rumbling wave, sending poker chips flying as they overturned gaming tables and sideswiped towering slot machines. Casino security balked at the sight of the patrons of the Gourmet Gardens, giving Small and Tall a much-needed opening.

“They’ll tear us to pieces then devour us!” Small shrieked, mounting the train.

“There’s obviously no tracks on the casino floor; will we still be able to move?” Tall replied as he stared down at the control panel. A bead of sweat rolled down his face which dropped on a glass-enclosed section of the acceleration lever labeled ‘For Emergencies Only.’

“Gentlemen!” came a voice from behind, causing them both to jump.

Ralph and a woman had leapt on board, each carrying a large burlap bag. Another bag was then thrown on board, and the Priest leaped up behind them.

“Tall and Small, I’d like you to meet my fiancé, Fiorella,” Ralph grinned. “Fiorella, meet my two dear friends Tall and Small. I’ll leave it up to you to figure out who is who.”

As Fiorella laughed her head shook, and a white flash of diamond earrings came from behind the rustling torrent of long, black hair. She pushed her glasses back onto her nose.

“Well boys, what are you waiting for? Let’s get out of here!”

Small brought a fist down on the safety glass and shattered it, then shoved the acceleration lever all the way forward. The train roared to life with a jolt, throwing everybody to the back of the conductor’s cab. Despite being the middle of a jumble of bodies and taking a knee to his other eye, Tall had the foresight to realize the cab’s door was still open as he felt rushing air. Stretching towards the open door, the ornate casino carpet was a blur as he shut the door right as the train crashed through the main entrance.

& & &

The train burst through the casino doors like a bullet fired from a beautiful gun, obliterating everything in its path. Reaching the end of the parking lot, the train broke through the guardrails and became briefly airborne before crashing down to earth in a series of ear-splitting shrieks as the metal connecting each individual cart twisted and separated. The carts flipped sideways and rolled downhill, leaving a trail of debris in their wake before finally coming to a rest near the base of the mountain.

& & &

“Small! Small! Get out, the train is on fire!”

Several pairs of hands grabbed him, dragging him by his legs out of the cab and onto the ground.

“Whabph?”

“Probably just a concussion, you’ll be fine,” Tall said. “Rub some dirt on it.”

“My head?”

Fiorella threw her arms around Ralph and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Well boys, now that we’re on the base of the mountain we’re finally free!”

“Not quite,” came a familiar voice as El Presidente stepped into view. “Now, now, put that down,” he said, wagging a finger at Tall, who slid a revolver back into his jacket. “My security team is here, if I wanted you dead, trust me, you’d be dead right now.”

He turned to Ralph. “I’ll admit I didn’t see that ace up your sleeve. Blowing out my floor to escape and then literally derailing my scheme? Machiavelli said that Fortune is a woman, and as such is always the friend of young men as they are more impetuous than cautious. Seeing a young man’s brazen escapade tonight made me realize that I am now an old man who has lived perhaps too coldly, too mathematical. But I refuse to believe that Fortune has truly abandoned me, for after all, the House always wins. So, I propose a wager for you. I’d put the value of one of my employees as exactly double the amount of cash you have there in your burlap bags. Double your money and you get the girl.”

A large pickup truck rolled up and four men stepped out. As the tailgate lowered, they began unloading an ornate mahogany gaming table. They carefully lowered the table between Ralph and El Presidente. One of them placed a steel suitcase on the table before stepping aside.

“I’d suggest we play poker for those funds, but your game is blackjack, isn’t it?”

El Presidente opened the suitcase and swiveled it around to reveal a translucent stack of rectangular poker plaques. In spite of the orange light put off by the truck headlights, the plaques seemed to emit a shimmering blue light all of their own.

He smiled as Ralph’s eyes grew wide. “A ten-stack of one-million-dollar poker plaques. These actually see more action than you would think, especially in my private games with fellow captains of industry. But ten million dollars is a lot of money, especially for a woman. You could walk away now, cash in hand, to find another for a fraction of the price.”

“I’ll buy in.”

El Presidente smiled. As his men began picking up the burlap bags and putting them in the backseat of the pickup, he took out the stack of plaques and slid them to Ralph.

“Good luck.”

Hundreds of people were now streaming down the mountainside. Mixed in with normal patrons and staff were those freed from the Gourmet Gardens, unmistakable for their massive sizes. El Presidente’s security detail tensed but he waved them off.

“I don’t care. As long as they don’t attempt to disrupt the match they can pass by or watch.”

He turned his attention back to Ralph. “The minimum bet for this table is $1 million.”

Ralph slid all ten plaques forward without hesitation.

The mountain immediately began to shake with a deafening rumble, forcing everyone to their knees. Dense clouds of dust erupted from the ground as a large crack formed beneath the table, overturning it.

El Presidente was the first to move. After looking back at the fleeing gamblers and staff, the Gourmet Garden patrons lumbering away into the wastes, and then to his entourage of security trucks parked at the very base of the mountain, he sprung to his feet.

“Balance! Balance! Too much weight has shifted off the mountain!” He shouted, flipping the table on the other side of the widening crack, and then began feverishly gathering the plaques and chucking them to the other side.

“Throw them back!” Ralph bellowed, slinging one at a security guard who barely managed to dodge the projectile.

The crack between them continued to grow wider, and the ground Ralph’s party was on began to rise.

“The mountain itself is rising into the air,” the Priest said in wonder. “And we’re on the wrong side! Leap to solid ground, it’s now or never!”

Ralph jumped the five-foot and rapidly rising gap and landed on his feet near El Presidente. He beckoned and Fiorella leapt into his arms, followed then by Tall, Small, and the Priest. They turned and watched as Sierra Motín, the entire mountain, slowly lifted into the air.

“In-Insurance. Insurance will cover it,” El Presidente stammered.

“I hope your insurance policy covers acts of God,” the Priest quipped.

El Presidente and his men stood speechless at the sight of the rising mountain, so Ralph took a final look at the massive crater it left behind before hopping in the driver’s seat of the two-door pickup. Fiorella sat on the passenger side, while Tall, Small, and the Priest jumped into the bed alongside the burlap bags of cash.

Tall knocked on the rear window and Fiorella slid open the glass.

“Kid, I don’t even know what I just saw but you were incredible. Drop us off in town. Our job here is done, we’re flying home.”

“I’ll also take a drop off in town, at the monastery,” said the Priest.

“You got it,” Ralph said as he put the truck in gear and slowly began driving away, careful to avoid the massive throngs of the saved, whose eyes still lingered on the sky.

“And what about you two?” the Priest asked.

Ralph looked over to Fiorella and smiled.

“Those gentlemen were kind enough to load our bundles of money up for us, I think we’ll take a road trip somewhere far enough away to give us a fresh start. Tell me, this monastery of yours, do you perform weddings?”

The Priest raised an eyebrow. “I’ve officiated a few weddings there, yes.”

With one hand on the steering wheel, Ralph fumbled in his jacket pocket and took out a ring.

“Fiorella, will you marry me?”

After an eternal moment of silence, Ralph took his eyes off the road to see that Fiorella had fainted, slumped back in the seat with a massive smile over her face.

“A wedding!” Small exclaimed. “Tall, forget the flight, we can always schedule a later one. We have to see this love story to the end, especially as Ralph will be in need of a best man.”

“If anything, I’d be his best man, I’m taller,” Tall replied.

“Au contraire, you’re so tall you’ll make the groom look bad, and that’s something you can’t do at a wedding!”

As they drove away, Ralph chuckled as Tall attempted to smother Small with one of the bundles of cash and flipped the rear-view mirror up. The black mass of Sierra Motín slowly floated upwards until it’s silhouette completely covered the light of the full moon, vanishing into the black night sky as if it’s time on this earth had been only a bad dream.

* * * * THE END * * * *
Copyright William du Jour 2025