Owned the cops …

Charlie and Ed had reached The Strip. They’d hobbled about thirty yards when she noticed a concrete ramp. It still had a sign saying it was the valet entrance to a boutique hotel, but concrete slabs had been put down to block traffic.

There was a bunch of creepy-looking guys standing around, and teenaged zombie girls sat on concrete behind, wearing very little. It didn’t take a genius to figure that the zombie girls were being pimped for sex.

Charlie was still pumped from killing Fawn and thought how satisfying it would be to open up the machine gun and wipe the pimps out. But her disgust was replaced by a sniff of opportunity as a silver Toyota turned off the strip.

‘That’s our ride,’ Charlie told a confused Ed. ‘Stay close.’

Charlie thought the pimps might have guns, but doubted they’d risk using them to protect a client. As the Toyota’s window came down and one of the pimps slid off the wall to talk business, Charlie barged between them and stuck her Tec-9 in the face of the middle-aged driver wearing a fancy purple virus mask.

‘Already killed two people this morning,’ Charlie roared. ‘Gimme your car or I’ll make it three.’

Charlie’s machine gun and blood-spattered appearance gave the man no cause for doubt.

‘Faster, pervert,’ Charlie ordered as the guy popped his seatbelt and opened the door. ‘Keys, keys.’

A couple of the pimps were getting too close for comfort, so Charlie sprayed a burst of shots into the air.

‘Stay back.’

One bullet shattered a sheet of golden glass several storeys up. Passers-by screamed as shards pelted the sidewalk and the driver was in such a panic that he fell out of the car, clutching his chest. The car was keyless, so he reached up to hand Charlie a plastic fob. As Ed threw Patrick in the back, Charlie jumped in the driver’s seat and put the transmission in reverse. A motorbike swerved and honked as she backed on to the strip.

‘You guys OK back there?’ Charlie asked, glancing at Ed’s rigid face as she put the car in drive. Her foot was agony as she pushed the pedal and accelerated down The Strip.

Ed looked half thrilled, half mortified, while Patrick complained expressively.

‘My lip hurts now and my butt hurts all the time.’

The Strip was one red light after another, so Charlie took an easy right on to Flamingo. As she made the turn, she had a brainwave.

‘I know what Patrick’s been complaining about,’ she announced. ‘The pain in his butt.’

After three blocks, she pulled into an empty lot in front of a dental clinic that wouldn’t open for another hour.

‘Ed, have you got anything small and sharp in those bulging pockets?’

‘I’ve got one grenade left and a pack of Kleenex.’