“Quetzalcoatl wants us all to come to Las Vegas,” said Jack, closing his phone and putting it back into his pocket.
“Las Vegas?” said Jill. “But what about all the missionary work we’re doing? We’re nowhere near finished.”
Jack shrugged. “Gil says Bill says Quetzalcoatl says it can wait. Something big is going down in Vegas, apparently.”
“He say what?”
“Nope.”
“But we just started here…”
Jill pouted and looked at the dozen terrified Mormons tied to chairs with rope and extension cord, their eyes duct-taped open and their mouths stuffed with socks.
Jack shrugged again and began dismantling the video camera and tripod.
“It can wait. They’ll still be here when we get back.”
The dozen terrified Mormons began banging the chairs they were tied to around in a frenzy.
“What the hell’s gotten into them?” asked Jack.
“I’unno,” said Jill, shrugging.
Jack and Jill were interrupted by the sound of a door slamming shut. They turned to see Hil trying desperately to hold the room’s entranceway closed as murder-drones battered it from the other side.
“Uh, guys?” she said, ducking slightly as a spike lodged itself in the wood above her head. “We got murder-drones.”
“Crap,” said Jack.
“Guess it’s a good thing we’re leaving then,” said Jill.
Hil toppled an armoire in front of the door.
“We’re leaving?” she asked.
“Yep,” replied Jill. “We’re going to Vegas.”
“Why are we going to Vegas?”
“Quetzalcoatl said so.”
“Oh,” said Hil, shrugging slightly, “OK. Well, there’s another exit in the other room.”
“Good,” said Jack, handing the tripod to Jill. “Let’s get the hell out of here before those robots break through.”
The Mormons started shouting. Or moaning. Or something. It was probably best described as “making a loud, muffled sound.”
“Aw, don’t worry, guys, we’ll finish this up when we get back,” said Jack, putting his hand on the shoulder of one of the converts. The man responded by pointing his head fervently in the direction of the killbots.
“Oh, them?” asked Jack. “You should be fine. I mean, their not after you yet.”