The Roadhouse Chronicles Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Cox, Matthew S.

  A handful of men and women in loose camo pants and tank tops peered up from various places around the vehicles, pausing in their work. Tris looked from them to Kevin with wide eyes. Their escort stopped, turned on his heel, and waved him at an open parking space near a long wall of pale white tiles. Old US flags hung wherever the lack of stuff piled against the wall allowed it, some covering glass cases with prewar advertising posters. Kevin pulled into the spot and killed the switches. The soldier who led them in, a little winded from the jog, met him with a warm handshake as he got out.

  “Can’t say how good it is to see ya. I’m Corporal Kendall.” The man looked to be in his younger twenties and had a sharp jaw. “Been waitin’ on these meds for months.”

  Tris’s door closed with a clunk. Her shoes skiffed over the black paving as she came up behind him. Another man and a woman with short brown hair emerged from the far side of the deuce-and-a-half. Unlike the others, their clothes looked civilian: flannel shirts and jeans.

  “Yeah… I’ve been runnin’ shit for the ‘house for years and I ain’t never seen a job posted for Dallas. Can’t say I know anyone crazy enough to get this close.”

  “Well…” Kendall chuckled. “Hope you’re not too crazy. This here’s Doc, and her trainee, Josh.”

  The woman nodded. “Candace. Not really a MD, but I do what I can.”

  Josh also shook hands.

  Kevin opened the trunk and stepped back as Candace and Josh unloaded it and struggled to two-person carry it back the way they came.

  “We’re supposed to give that to Sergeant Ralston,” said Tris.

  “That’s a name drop.” Kendall smiled. “Code so we know you’re on the level.”

  “So there’s no Ralston?”

  Kendall waved. “C’mon.” He headed off down the line of vehicles. “Yeah, there is… but there’s no need to bug him. Sarge is already pulling out what little hair he’s got left with motor pool logistics.”

  Kevin paused to wonder at the urgent look on Tris’s face before he followed Kendall past three Humvees and up a small stairwell to what had once been the platform where people waited for trains. A middle-aged man in a camo jacket hunched over a desk shifting papers around and grumbling about someone not keeping track of parts properly. He glanced up as they passed. Kevin got a friendly nod, though he squinted at Tris.

  She grabbed Kevin’s hand.

  Kendall gestured at a passage through a pair of smashed turnstiles, which opened out at the rear left corner of the raised area. “New Dallas isn’t the biggest of places, but we get by. You’re welcome to spend a day or two if you need. Any longer, you’ll go from visitor to resident and be expected to help out in some way.”

  Past the opening, they entered a rectangular concourse marked with the scars of absent bolted-down seats. A chain-link fence/cage surrounded rows of metal shelves filled with weapons from pistols to rifles to larger machine guns. Men and women in a mixture of camo uniforms, Wildlands leathers, and patched-up civilian clothes occupied stations here and there. Several, carrying rifles, appeared to be internal security. Almost everyone afforded them at least a passing smile.

  Jury-rigged wiring dangled in shallow arcs, stranded from hooks and brackets driven into the ceiling. Fluorescent lights bathed the area in brightness, proving New Dallas had a decent solar farm somewhere.

  The far wall had the look of a mall of sorts, containing a series of open alcoves packed with the trappings of ancient commerce. One had empty garment racks, another, row upon row of bookshelves. Candace and Josh stood in the third storefront going through the contents of the box. White flags with red crosses hung on poles on either side of a space that looked like it had once been a deli.

  Kendall walked straight across and went down another connecting passage labeled ‘Platform 3.’ The air carried the mixed fragrance of garlicy vegetables and body odor, tinged with a wisp of industrial grease. Traces of light glinted off ink-black walls from up ahead. The dimness compared to the open mall left Kevin blind for the thirty or so feet before he emerged in a rounded train tunnel. Cabinets and storage shelves occupied a dead end by where they entered. On the right, a passage wide enough for two subway trains stretched into a gentle leftward turn. Double-deck bunk beds packed the inward face of the curve, each pair occupying cubbies walled off by tall steel cabinets.

  They kept going to the right, Kendall waving at people as he passed. Men, women, and children sat among the beds or on the floor in front of them. The smaller children wore handmade ponchos or other well-worn garments while the adults seemed evenly split between camouflage and tattered prewar garments. Many stared at Tris with curiosity or worry. A few seconds after they passed a small blonde girl, a tiny voice demanded white hair too.

  Tris grinned.

  Kevin raised an eyebrow at the sixth cubby they passed. Sandwiched between a pair of bulkheads, a slightly larger than usual area had flags over every visible square inch of wall, including the metal cabinets positioned at the end of the bulkheads. Most were the Stars and Stripes, though a huge black POW-MIA banner occupied the center of this ‘shrine,’ and a number of smaller flags bore logos from an old military unit. A grey-bearded man with a blue bandanna over his head crouched over a small workbench, engrossed in the task of hand-loading 5.56 ammunition.

  “Here.” Kendall gestured at an empty cubby two spaces past the old man. Two sets of bunk beds sat between olive-drab cabinets, both of which hung open to reveal nothing inside. “I’ll have someone send over some blankets. Feel free to spend the night or two if ya need.” He pointed further down the tunnel. “’Bout a hundred yards further down’s the mess. Tell Paula you’re a guest and she’ll set you up with some chow.”

  “Thanks,” said Kevin. “I’m supposed to pick up a payment for the supplies.”

  Kendall glanced back the way they’d come with an uncertain expression. “Uhh, that’d be something you take up with Sarge. More than likely, once Doc approves what ya brought, it’ll get cleared through Sarge. Might take a couple hours or so.”

  Kevin sat on the left bunk, draped his arms over his knees, and nodded. “Thanks.”

  “Welcome.” Kendall started to walk off, but stopped. “Anyone ya see inside carryin’ an M4 is part of the security patrol. If y’all need anything, just let ‘em know.”

  Tris sat next to Kevin as their escort wandered off. Echoes of conversations and snippets of voices bounced off the dingy white tiles on the facing wall. The weak breeze imparted by distant fans teased at a scorched US flag hung on thin copper wire. Giggling children occasionally broke the monotony. Within a few minutes of them sitting idle, several tiny faces peered around the wardrobe cabinet.

  Kevin reclined and laced his fingers behind his head, leaving his boots on the ground. Some of the kids approached, asking Tris about her hair. She entertained them with stories for a little while as he drifted in and out of consciousness, grumbling at the jostling of small bodies climbing over the bed. At the feeling of weight settling into the mattress to the left of his head, he opened his eyes. A scrawny boy, perhaps five, with light brown skin and black hair, knelt half a foot away with a wide-eyed expression. A plain white tee shirt fit him like a shift dress. Six handwritten names descended in a column over the left breast. Five had cross-outs, leaving ‘Tommy’ at the end.

  “What?” asked Kevin.

  Tommy waved. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” Kevin returned the wave and closed his eyes again.

  Tris rambled on through a story about a bunch of kids who went into a hole in the wall of a train station to study magic so they could survive a trip to bring a cursed ring to a plasma forge in the middle of a giant space station and defeat the evil Lord Vader. Kevin faded in and out, the story jumping from some haunted forest to the kids flying in a space dogfight.

  Tommy waved. “Hi.”

  Kevin furrowed his eyebrows. His audience of one hadn’t moved. “What?”

  “Can I see your car?” Tommy smiled.

 
“Maybe tomorrow.” Kevin glanced at the boy. He thought about relocating the kid so he could lie fully on the mattress, but resigned himself to not moving.

  “Okay,” said Tommy.

  Tris, well into the story of a climactic battle in which the bad guy’s laser sword kept swatting the heroes’ magic spells aside, had the rest of the kids’ attention in her hands. Tommy seemed more fascinated by staring at Kevin. He tried to ignore the boy and shut his eyes again. The next thing he knew, Tris nudged him awake. The other children had gone, though Tommy remained.

  “Hungry?” asked Tris.

  Now that you said that, I am. Kevin scratched at his stomach and sat up. “Yeah.”

  Tris seemed to take notice of the names on the boy’s shirt and gave him a sad look. “Why are those names crossed out?”

  Tommy smiled at her. “It’s mine now. They’re too big.”

  Tris relaxed.

  “Are you and her gonna make kids now?” Tommy looked at him.

  Laughing, Kevin grasped the boy about the chest and set him on his feet. “Not right now.”

  “You can make kids with my mom if you wanna. I need a li’l brother or sister.”

  Kevin covered his face to keep from laughing too loud. Tris coughed and gave him a strange, unreadable look. He patted Tommy on the head, ruffling his hair. “Not right now.”

  The boy took two steps away before looking back. “Can I still see your car?”

  “Ask your mom. And, in the morning.” Kevin stood and took a deep breath laden with the fragrance of cooking beans. “Food?”

  Tris, with a trace of blush in her cheeks, kept her gaze down as she got up and followed him deeper into the train tunnel. The smell of cooking food grew stronger the farther they walked. Power fluctuations manifested as regular flickers in the lights that affected the entire settlement. He glanced at one corkscrew bulb as they passed under it, wondering what these people would do when they ran out of them. Guess they’re gonna live like moles when the lights go out. While debating how long it would take for humanity to regain the ability to manufacture light bulbs, he sidestepped boxes, toys, running children, and a handful of fifteen-to-thirty-year-old women who tried to catch his eye.

  “Reminds me of home,” muttered Tris.

  “How’s that?”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “All those girls are checking you out. There can’t be that many people here. They probably want some outside DNA.”

  “Hmm.” He chuckled. “And here I thought it was my good looks.”

  “You planning to donate?” Tris swung her arms as she walked, not looking at him.

  Kevin halted by a metal counter, where a kitchen had been set up in place of bunks. “Nah. Still too sore from Tyrant’s lack of ethical business practices.”

  Tris nibbled on her lower lip.

  A pale thirtyish woman with mouse-brown hair looked up from tending a stove full of pots. She had a ‘kiss the chef’ apron on over an olive drab tee and camo pants. A trio of preteens, a boy and two girls, sat on the floor nearby, making what appeared to be salsa in a metal bowl big enough for them to bathe in.

  “Hello. You must be the driver who brought the medical supplies.” The woman smiled.

  The kids looked up with curious expressions.

  “Yeah.” Kevin took a handful of coins from his pocket. “Kendall said we should see you for food? Guessin’ you’re Paula?”

  “Yep.” She waved at him. “Put those away. We all help out here. Be just a moment.” Paula tapped the boy on the shoulder.

  “Yes, Mama.” He jumped up and ran to a flat cooking surface, where he poured pale batter out of a plastic pitcher and set to the task of making four fresh tortillas.

  Kevin leaned on the counter. “I got the explanation on the way in. Not sure I could tolerate staying underground so much.”

  “Oh, there’s more than this.” Paula pointed at the wall. “Tunnel D hits an open atrium about two miles in. That’s where we grow all our vegetables. Used to be a platform, but the whole roof fell in. Plenty of dirt to grow things with.”

  “No rads? No Infected?” Kevin blinked.

  Paula shook her head. “Haven’t seen any Infected around here.”

  “Maybe everyone died in the blast,” said Tris. “No one to get sick.”

  Kevin scrunched his face in thought. “We saw building frames on the way in. Had to be a high-altitude airburst. City as big as Dallas was, there had to be enough survivors for a major nest. The Virus landed in all the major population centers. I don’t see why they’d have skipped this one.”

  The boy scraped the tortillas up and flipped each one before grinning back at them. “’Nother minute.”

  Paula stirred a thick brown paste in one of the pots. “All I know is we’re safe down here.”

  Until the lights go out. Kevin glanced up.

  The man who had been with the doctor emerged from the tunnel and waved at everyone.

  “Hi, Josh,” said Paula. She looked at the boy, but before she could say a word, he’d already poured out two more tortillas. “Maybe he could explain?”

  “Explain?” Josh leaned on the counter.

  “Infected,” said Tris. “Paula said there aren’t many around here.”

  “Any, actually…” Josh nodded. “We’re not sure of the exact mechanism, but it seems like the radiation in the area kills the Virus… or kills any cells which uptake the virus. It would be great if we had the kind of diagnostic equipment that would let us study this in detail, but…”

  “Yeah,” said Kevin. “Any place big enough to have that kind of tech is either blasted to hell or too small to still have any sort of power.” He sighed. “Seems like we’re still sliding down.”

  Paula took the first four tortillas from her son and set to the task of turning them into bean burritos. “What do you mean?”

  “We’re still hanging on to scraps from how the world was. Using up whatever tech survived… but you don’t really see anyone making more of it. Eventually, I figure we’ll go back to the dark ages… and then we start the whole damn cycle over again… assuming we don’t die off.”

  “Heh.” Josh shook his head. “Let’s hope we don’t reinvent nuclear weapons.”

  “Oh, they will.” Kevin accepted a hubcap with two fat burritos from Paula. “Thank you.” He leaned back as Tris took hers, and glanced at Josh. “By the time they get there―if they get there―no one will remember this.”

  “Sad, but true.” Josh sighed.

  “So radiation”―Kevin held out his ‘plate’ as one of the girls doled out a ladle of salsa for him―“kills the Virus. Any idea if it could function as a cure? Or is the dose necessary to clear the virus gonna kill someone too?”

  Josh laughed. “If you figure that out, we’d love to know.”

  “Your hair is so pretty,” said the girl, after giving Tris a scoop of the salsa.

  “Thanks.” Tris returned the smile.

  Kevin glanced at his food. “Take it easy, Josh. Gonna go eat.”

  “Keep yourself safe.” Josh waved.

  They wandered back down the tunnel to the bunk Kendall let them use. A few hesitant notes from an acoustic guitar twanged from the old man who had been reloading ammo before. The sound bent and warped as he tuned it. Kevin sat on the side of the bunk, stuffing one end of a still-hot bean burrito into his mouth. He scooped salsa with the hole he’d made.

  “Maybe that’s why the Virus hasn’t wiped everyone out?” Tris bit the corner off her burrito and poured a little salsa in it. “Enough radiation zones to keep it in check?”

  Kevin held up a finger while he finished chewing. “I don’t know of any other settlements like this… so close to a strike point. Maybe it works as designed and kills people too fast to migrate over long patches of uninhabited ground?”

  She shrugged, and continued eating.

  “What about that vaccine?” Kevin drank the salsa between bites.

  Tris shook her head. “The Enclave is one city�
�� maybe a thousand people at most. They built up an area around what used to be a corporate industrial complex. The war happened in the middle of the day when people were at work. I…” She looked down as tears collected along her lower eyelid. “Sometimes I think about it. What it was like when everything happened. People not knowing if their families were still alive. Millions of lives vaporized in minutes. All the achievements of our civilization gone. I guess some of them tried to go home to find their families, but the Enclave formed from those who stayed behind. There’s a big underground lab… I think it used to be some kind of physics thing with particles in a giant ring. No one cares about that anymore though.”

  He finished burrito one in three more bites and squeezed her shoulder. “You weren’t even alive then. Hell, neither was I. You shouldn’t feel guilty about something you had no control over.”

  “It’s not that.” She took a breath and wiped her face. “They still have some tech. The Enclave can make medicine and solar panels, cars, light bulbs… there’s no reason we have to go back to the Stone Age again.”

  “Except they’re zee-no whatever.”

  “Xenophobic.” Tris attempted a smile, but it lasted only a second. “The Council of Four is convinced only they deserve the world. It wasn’t bad enough nuclear war happened… they tried to kill everyone else. That’s what I feel guilty about. Being associated with that kind of insanity.”

  A handful of kids ran by, re-enacting the climactic final battle from Tris’s story. One boy yelled “I’m your father” seconds before a girl stomped her foot and screamed, “You shall not pass!”

  The man two cubbies down began to play an ancient song. Kevin stared at a torn US flag on the wall outside their cubby as the elder sang Fortunate Son.

  “There’s not enough vaccine for the whole world.” Tris stared at the remaining burrito on her hubcap. “Even if the Council changed their opinion.”

  He picked up the second half of his dinner. “It’s a waste of time even considering people like that will change.”

  Tris looked up at him with innocence in her eyes. “Someone has to try.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” He glanced sideways at the tattered flag. “But it ain’t me.”