The Zona by Nathan Yocum

 Slowly at first, but building upon faceless mob confidence.  The voices of hundreds came together as a roar, the roar of animals.
    “Who wants to earn this world?  Who wants to claim this world!?”
    The red preacher was no longer looking to the crowd.  His face was lifted up and screaming to the heavens.  The guards and fugees roared on.
    “Who wants to tear sin asunder!?  Who wants to tell the Almighty that we understand!?  Goddamn it, we understand!”
    The red preacher leaped across the stage waving his hands and shouting.  The crowd had taken to chanting in rhythm.
    “Yes.  Yes.  Yes.  Yes.”
    The red preacher waved his hands at the floor, signaling for silence.  The chanting died down.   
    “I’m going to Las Vegas.”  The red preacher said in a whisper, just loud enough for the crowd to hear.   
    “I’m going to Las Vegas to purge its sin.  I’ll welcome company, but if I have none, I’ll go alone.”
    Leonard looked to see fugees shaking their heads, some mouthing “no.”
    “I’ll go by myself, and I’ll pull each building down, stone by stone, if I must.  And I’ll kill each sinner with my hands, if I must.  I will strangle the life of every sin-born man, woman and child, alone, if I must.”
    The red preacher looked into the eyes of the crowd.
    “But I’d rather have thee with me.”
    His gaze swept back across.
    “Every one of you with me stands for another building razed. Every one of you with me stands for another sinner’s blood let loose on the earth.”
    The red preacher’s face broke into a joyous smile.
    “I will see thee there, just like I will see thee in Heaven with our Father beaming down on us and saying we’ve made him proud!”
    The crowd erupted again in shouts and promises.  Fugees fell to their knees and wept.  They promised undying allegiance to the red preacher, to the provider of food and purpose, to this leader.
    The training changed after that.  Sticks and clubs were added to the routine.  The fugees practiced fighting from inside the beds of pick-ups like tournament jousters.  They were taken into the Bullhead ruins and taught to destroy buildings; showed what walls were foundational and what walls were secondary and what kind of power could render stone and steel.  They made explosives out of pipes and powder mixtures.  The red preacher continued his weekly sermons, but now he spoke of Las Vegas exclusively.
    During Leonard’s third month in camp, the order came.  Las Vegas was to be destroyed and guard units from the Eastern California and Utah territories were going to assist.  The fugees were ecstatic.  Food and training gave them a new strength and they were eager to prove their mettle.
    Exercising gave way to planning.  Group Leader Jones was selected as one of the frontline drivers in an elaborate ceremony.  He named Leonard and six other boys as his riders.  The team was assigned a twelve-passenger truck with the roof cut off.  In a separate ceremony, they named the vehicle Michael and from then on only referred to it by that name.  It was now considered one of their teammates.
    Jones walked with his head held high.  Guards who had not been assigned as drivers congratulated him publicly and held in secret jealousy and scorn.
    Leonard too felt pride in his selection to vehicle duty, in his designation as a rider.  He took to cleaning his gun twice a day.  He even shined and polished his bullets.  He took to assisting Jones in the training of new fugees.
    The red preacher announced the plan in a private meeting for drivers and riders.  Arizona would strike Vegas from the south, ignoring the suburban structures and focusing on the inhabitants and palaces occupying the region designated as South Strip, the Eastern Californians would strike from the west and focus on the region designated as North Strip, Utah Guard claimed responsibility for the destruction of the area designated as Downtown, which they would attack from the