I decided to go ahead and keep moving on with Zombieland fics. I don't plan this as an action story, just a vehicle for introducing a setting and letting the characters bounce off each other.

The Order

Circus Circus had been a hotel and casino with almost 3,800 rooms, an RV Park and its own indoor . Now it was home for 50,000 survivors of the zombie plague. Like lords and peasants in a castle under siege, they had to work together to keep out attackers, attend to daily needs, and maintain a functional society within the confines of a single building.

As was typical of the survivors, the inhabitants of Circus Circus had cast off their names in favor of other, often more esoteric designations: places of birth, their high school or college, their favorite movies and shows. For the casino senior staff, they were addressed only by title. The man who stood before Tallahassee, Columbus, Little Rock and Wichita was no less than Chief Executive Officer, and he did not look happy. "In just the week you have been with us," he said, "you have already made valuable contributions to our community. But there are concerns that you do not fully appreciate what being part of our community means.

"First, there is the matter of the furnishings in your room... Our lowest estimate of the value of the items you intentionally destroyed is $2,000. That is, of course, measured in pre-pandemic dollars."

"It was our room," said Wichita.

Little Rock pointed a finger at her: "She started it."

The CEO exhaled. "No, it is not your room. It is the property of the community, given to you. We understand you come here from a different set of circumstances, and need time to adjust. But the first and most essential lesson you must learn is that in here, space and resources are absolutely fixed. You cannot destroy your dwelling in one night and move to another in the morning. And then there is Lucky... a historic Vegas landmark."

Wichita patted her husband's knee. "He really doesn't like clowns."

At the entrance of the casino stood a 123-foot neon clown. Multiple blast holes marked where the clown's face had been.

The CEO sighed. "After lengthy discussion, the board decided that you will be allowed to stay, and not penalized for your actions. But this is contingent on your attending psychiatric counseling."

Tal's jaw sagged. "I think I'd rather take my chances with the zombies."

"There is also one more thing," the CEO said, looking pointedly at Columbus and Wichita. "Privacy is necessarily limited, and those who have lived here for some time have learned not to be shocked too easily. But this has always been a family-oriented business, and there are certain limits to be observed even now. Do I make myself clear?"

Little Rock hid her face in her hands. "I told you doing it in the buffet was a bad idea," Columbus muttered.