What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.

The catch phrase was a double edged sword

for twelve year old Billy. The glitz and glamour of the sin city masked an underworld
of poverty that many chose to ignore. While the wealthy partied inside the million
dollar casinos, poor Billy struggled to survive inside the flood tunnels that lie beneath
the Vegas strip.
The concrete tunnels span two hundred miles of the city and are inhabited by close to
a thousand homeless people. Down in these dank, dark catacombs lived Billy and his
mother. They moved there three years earlier. Billy remembered it well.
According to his Mum, his father was a drunk layabout who slept with whores. His
useless father left them when Billy was seven. Billys mother said it was because he
didnt love them anymore and wanted to start a new family with some floozy.
Billy hated floozies.
Billys Mum was sad. She stopped going to work. One day when he came home from
school he saw a notice on their door. Were being evicted, his mother had explained
to him. Billy soon came to learn what that meant when he had to sell his toys and
most of their belongings at the local pawn store. With a fist full of cash, they boarded
a bus and three hours later were in Vegas.
Our lucks gonna change Billy, just you wait and see. Billy remembered his Mum
saying before she entered the first casino they saw. He wasnt allowed to follow her,
so he patiently waited outside. Several hours later, she appeared. His Mum had a
distant look on her face and Billy could see shed been crying.
Did our luck change Mum? Billy asked her as she grabbed his hand and dragged him
down the road, away from the casinos. She didnt reply.
The weeks that followed were hard. They lived on food stamps and stayed in a refuge
at night. Billys Mum said they had to find somewhere else to stay because there
were too many bloody thieves at the refuge.
It was Cutter who told them about the tunnels. Cutter had been in the tunnels longer
than anyone else. He helped them find a mattress and set them up near his place in the
tunnels. Cutter was an old man with a thick grey beard and a grimy, wrinkly face.
Billy liked him a lot. He spoke slowly but always had a warm smile and was filled to
the brim with wisdom.
Thanks to Cutter, Billy now knew most of the tunnels in their zone and could navigate
his way to the store each day without getting lost. Since his Mum got sick, it was
Billys job to buy their food with the food stamps he picked up at the refuge office.
They normally ate two minute noodles with bread and water. Cutter did the cooking
on his old gas stove.
On his way to buy more food, Billy bumped into Alvarez by the entrance to the
tunnels. Alvarez was an addict who often stuttered or slurred his words.
B-b-billy my boy, Alvarez stammered. Come ere a s-s-second will ya!

Hey Alvarez, Billy replied as he approached the small, skinny man. Whats up?
I n-n-need to tell you somethin Billy.
Sure, what is it?
T-t-tell Cutter that Santa is b-b-back.
Santa? Who is Santa? Billy enquired.
Asssk Cutter. Go now, go t-t-tell im, Alvarez stumbled back into the tunnels out of
sight.
He wove his way though the long tunnels which were covered in graffiti and strewn
with rubbish.
Cutter was sitting in his old, dilapidated wicker chair sipping on a hot brew.
Billy, youre back early. Is everything alright?
Billy pulled up a seat beside Cutter. The old man was hard of hearing.
Hey Cutter, everythings OK Billy explained. Alvarez caught me at the entrance
and told me to tell you that Santa is back.
Cutters eyes grew wide with disbelief. He slowly put down his cup and leaned
forward.
Say again, Cutter said, leaning in close to Billy.
Santa is back. Who is Santa? Billy enquired. Hed never seen Cutter look so
worried.
Oh Jesus Almighty, this is terrible news boy. Cutter said as he leaned back in his
chair. He appeared deep in thought, lost in memories hed buried years ago.
Cutter, who is he? Billy asked again.
Cutter snapped out of his thoughts and stared into Billys eyes before he spoke.
Hes a bad man Billy. A real bad man.
Why? What happened? Billy knew there was a story here and he desperately wanted
to find out more.
Santa isnt his real name. Its Morris Bradley. Hes been gone a long time. I hoped he
might be dead.
Really but why? What did he do?

Morris killed some kids down here a number of years ago. We found their bodies
stuffed into a drain. Hes a dangerous man Billy he should be in prison.
Billy didnt expect Cutters reply. He was scared to ask more, but couldnt resist the
urge to do so. Why didnt the police catch him?
They dont care about us. So long as we arent in plain sight, they leave us be. Cutter
slowly stood up and walked over to his mattress. He lifted the edge of it and withdrew
a photo album. He flipped the pages until he found the one he was looking for, and
then withdrew it from its plastic sleeve. Cutter walked back to his chair and eased
himself into it. He passed the photo to Billy.
The photo was old and tattered but he could just make out a huge man dressed in a
Santa Claus suit. He didnt have the beard or hat but the rest of the costume was
complete. On closer inspection, Billy noticed that his gloves were odd; they were
longer in the fingers than they should be.
Billy stared at his face. It was a mean face. He had small, beady black eyes and a large
forehead. Wisps of unkempt hair did little to conceal his balding head. The lack of
hair on his head was made up for by his long, thick black moustache under his broad
nose.
If you see him, do not go near him. Cutter instructed Billy. In fact, turn and run as
fast as you can in the opposite direction. I thought we got rid of him for good but I
guess not.
Why did he kill the kids? Billy asked the old man.
Who knows? Why would anyone do something so horrid?
Why does he dress up like Santa Claus?
Cutter laughed but the sound was devoid of humour. He stole it from me. Many years
ago, I used to do the Christmas gig at Walmart. Cutter paused to reflect on the
memory. Anyway, he wanted it and wore it long after Christmas was over, so we
called him Santa.
Why is he back? Billy asked Cutter.
I have no idea Billy, though Im sure well find out soon enough. If you ever see him
down here, get your Mum and yourself out of here as quick as you can.
Billy nodded and handed back the photo.
The rest of the day was uneventful. Billy wandered back into the city and went to the
shop where he always bought their food. Around lunch time, he went scavenging for
bric-a-brac in the bins but was chased away by the police. Theyd only chase you for a
hundred yards or so before theyd give up. Occasionally, Billy would find something
useful in the bins, but not today.

Around mid afternoon he made his way back to the tunnels with his backpack full of
food, water and other supplies.
The tunnels seemed emptier than usual. A cold shiver ran down Billys spine as he
recalled the story Cutter had told him earlier. He quickened his pace as he headed
back home.
Just a dozen metres from where his mother had made a temporary home for them, his
worst fears stopped him in his tracks.
Mum? he cried out. Mum! Mum are you OK?
Billy rushed forward and dropped to his knees on the mattress where his mother lay.
She was covered in blood and didnt move when he touched her. She was laying face
down, so Billy grabbed her cold arm and turned her body over.
His mothers head was semi-decapitated; her throat had been slit through an inch
deep. A sense of shock overwhelmed Billy. He didnt cry, he didnt scream. His body
was frozen in fear; his mind traumatised by intense grief.
A gurgling, wheezing sound came from around the corner where Cutter lived. Billy
turned his mother so she lay face down once more. He slowly rose and silently moved
over to pick up an old aluminium baseball bat which lay by the bed. He gripped the
bat in both hands and silently moved around the corner.
Cutter sat in his chair his hands were clamped around his throat as he clutched for
life. Blood bubbled from his mouth and his eyes were wild with fear and pain. He
locked his eyes on Billy, all his effort was focused on staying alive.
Billy ran to him. Cutter, please dont die! he cried as he stood helplessly before the
dying man.
Boy, Cutter stammered as he spat a mouthful of blood into the cloth. Get out of
ere. Run!
Billy didnt want to leave but the look in Cutters eyes begged him to go.
Billy cried as he gripped the old mans arm for the last time. Ill get help. Hold on
Cutter, please. Ill be right back, I promise!
Billy grabbed the baseball bat and started running out of the tunnels. His mind was
reeling. In his panicked state he wasnt thinking clearly. He almost fell as he rounded
one tunnel and as he regained his balance, he saw a huge figure standing in his way.
Before Billy could call for help he heard the scraping of claws on the concrete wall,
followed by the humming of the Christmas carol Santa Claus is coming to town.

The figure stepped out of the shadows. He wore a dirty blood stained Santa suit. His
hands were covered by gloves with two inch long bear claws sewn into the tips of the
fingers.
The man grinned sinisterly when he saw Billy.
Have you been naughty or nice? he coldly asked Billy while walking towards
him.
Billys legs were frozen with fear. He wanted to shout but nothing came out.
Santa scraped his claws against the wall as he approached Billy.
You better watch out, he sang as he locked his eyes on Billy. You better not cry. You
better not shout, Im tellin you why, Santa was now within a metre from Billy.
He leaned in close enough for Billy to strike him with the bat but Billy didnt react.
Santas claws are coming to
It didnt hurt like he thought it would. Billy crumpled down in the dying light of the
tunnel. His vision was blurred and he felt weak all over.
Our lucks gonna change Billy. His mothers voice said inside his head. He looked
for her but she wasnt there. His mind filled with memories of a happier time, when
his mother and father shared a laugh in their old house. Billy thought he saw Cutter
kneeling over him and reached out for him. His hands were roughly batted aside.
Sharp claws buried into Billys chest, over and over again.
I know when youre not sleepin, he heard Santa sing merrily above him. I know
when youre awake.
So be good, for goodness sake!