The Gods of Arrowhead Highway

The Street Lights began a bit before Las Vegas proper on Interstate 15. When they did, each silver bus that came rolling by was a like a strobe into the dark of very early Las Vegas morning. They formed a caravan that stretched for nearly half a mile: buses, trucks, cars, and even a pair of motorcycles. They rolled through the Las Vegas streets at what was, in all likelihood, the quietest part of the day – when even the winos had gone somewhere to sleep it off.

They rolled up in front of the MGM Grand one at a time, depositing their passengers, who poured into the lobby as a human tide. When the third bus pulled up, one man pulled away from the herd to walk to the edge of the receiving area and take a long look up the strip. The glaring lights gave the whole lane an illusion of activity that noise did not support. He could hear the sounds of the various slot machines, some cross between a video game and a circus fanfare, playing in the hotel behind him. A woman walked up behind him and he stuffed his hands in his pockets, his sign to the world of deep thought.

“Jerry, you gonna check in?” She sounded slightly concerned. She needn’t have been: he slept on the bus and now, he felt like he was ready to take on the world. At least, he was ready to take on a part of it.

“Sure, Eliza. Give me a minute. What’s the name of the casino?”

“The Orleans. It’s not on the strip, so we’re less likely to get guff from the Chamber of Commerce.”

“Wouldn’t matter if we did. We’re here to do the lord’s work.”

“Of course, Jerry.”

Meanwhile…

The dry and cracked earth of Nevada is driven ever upwards by geothermal energy within the crust. While Jerry and Eliza discussed the Lord’s work, a trail of electromagnetic energy was flowing through rock, through places such radiation was not supposed to be able to go.

It floated down and caressed some of that geothermal energy. The radiation whispered to the fires of the earth of many things. It whispered promises and it teased. It spoke of the need for light.

Light that had burned the world when it was young responded.

It responded with a scream.

An angry scream.