Chapter 1

It was the unexpected Asian virus that swept over the Northern Hemisphere like some sort of final judgement that was the spark that turned Las Vegas into a “Sanctuary City” instead of retaining the time-honored reputation of being “the city that never slept”.

The highly mobile composition of the population was the primary reason for the decay of the gambling Mecca of the west.

The hordes of gambling addicted players and the endless chorus lines of long-legged females scrambling for the top of the heap all headed into the dustbin of extinction when the first outbreaks of the fast moving Asian virus started spreading from the airport and the tour buses filled with the innocent-looking carriers of the life-changing disease that had no name and no cure.

The sheer coincidence of the gender-confused mayor declaring the den of iniquity to be the newest “Sanctuary City” and the arrival of the fast spreading virus made the survivors that hadn’t changed yet into pale reminders of their human form ruefully grimace at the irony of the new designation plastered on every lamppost and bus stop like a symbol of their unavoidable destruction and ultimate surrender to the new order of human existence.

Those victims that didn’t implode from the initial ravages of the new virus eventually recovered to the point of being able to move around slowly and even make simple gestures of comprehension when spoken to by uninfected humans unhappy with their dangerous presence amongst them. The infected could be identified easily by the black circles around their eyes like nocturnal raccoons and the thousand yard stare that was earlier identified with victims of combat-related PTSD. They were NOT in any sense like the “Zombie” monsters of film and comic book fame and functioned with all human systems uninterrupted. Of course, their instinct to procreate was in a shambles and they seemed far less inclined to eat large meals and snacked only on junk food like teenagers with and addiction for instant gratification. Strangely, it didn’t seem to bother their physical appearance except for the weight-loss that was more effective than the chain-smoking of forbidden cigarettes.

The male infected were not too enthusiastic about that unforeseen consequence but the females were all onboard with the program and several overweight females still not victims of the virus inquired of their doctors if they might be given the bug in order to move to a guaranteed svelte figure more appealing to admirers. The only visible side effect of eye circles could be masked by cosmetics and the women considered it a small price to pay for increased sexual activity with younger and more attractive partners.

All concerns about the wave of illegal aliens moving north like some human migration seeking economic success went out the window as the explosion of infected survivors populated every segment of society and every corner of the most popular tourist destination on the West Coast.

Suddenly, the “Sanctuary” concept became synonymous to the actuality of fitting the infected into normal living despite the danger of their “turn” to cannibalistic ravishers of the uninfected human populace. The problem of mixed families of legally uninfected and illegal infected that were required to be quarantined for a minimum of sixty days of observation were exempted on a case by case basis and strict rules of hygienic physical contact were to observed at all times.

Even the call girls that worked the strip and other legal areas outside the city of Las Vegas were exempted from the quarantine provided they used condoms and observed the strict containment of bodily fluids when dealing with a non-infected client. Some of the bronc-riding cowboys from the rural areas liked to disregard such niceties but most of the common-sense oriented city dwellers were more than happy to comply with the regulations designed for their own safety.

The owners of the casinos didn’t care if the players were infected because their money was just as green as the non-impacted players with their superior sense of privilege due to pristine DNA.

The criminal elements found a new industry in providing non-infected female companionship for the infected masses. The most recent demographic survey found that almost two-thirds of the population was infected and that the remaining human population was dwindling with each passing day because the rules were so lax and unenforced under the guidance of the CDC in Atlanta, Georgia. Most of the truly rural areas of mid-America were in compliance with the CDC guidelines, but the big cities and places like Las Vegas were thumbing their noses at the Federal regulations just like they did in other cases of left-leaning inclinations.

Strangely, overweight people were less common and they were considered “safe” by those persons with pristine DNA regardless of their attractiveness quotient or ability to arouse a partner’s libido. Big beautiful women with hefty hips were on top of the menu in houses of ill repute and clients felt more comfortable knowing there was little chance of their virus-free flesh being compromised by the fast moving Asian bug.

A popular coffee house advertised a “Sanctuary” lounge where infected citizens could move freely and mingle with normal people without fear of being arrested by some CDC police or other federal agency determined to cleanse the region of their un-clean presence. It was not unusual to find open-minded readers and coffee drinkers of all categories coupling in dark corners or under colorful spreads on the comfortable sofas and love seats that lined the walls. The satisfied smiles of infected females revealed their inner peace after a tryst with some liberal-minded normal person with a need to express their displeasure with the centralized government that had lost touch with the common citizen.

Johnny Wild was one of those Las Vegas characters that seemed to exist as if by magic in some hidden hideaway and seldom seen in a functioning casino unless he had no other choice.

The truth of the matter was that the mild-mannered, but hard as nails, Johnny was one of those rare individuals that didn’t have much use for money except when the rent was due and he was self-destructive to the point that he knew he would never beat the house because he was a compulsive gambler that would always win until he lost everything. His moniker on the strip was “Johnny Loser” but he much preferred “Johnny Wild-card” because he felt it was far more complimentary. Ever the egoist, Johnny operated on the periphery of the Vegas scene and he constantly struggled to stay in the middle of the herd to avoid being culled out for some unappetizing chore or assignment. He liked to think he was knee-deep in pussy, but he was so transparently shallow that most women with some semblance of common sense avoided his depressing aura of defeatism like the plague and he only succeeded with the tourist babes or the wannabe showgirls that were doomed to sexual “burn-out” on the casting couches of erstwhile studio heads or supposed producers. Most of those jerks were a bunch of phonies looking to get laid in return for promises that never materialized.