The Roadhouse Chronicles Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Cox, Matthew S.

  “What is this again?” Kevin sniffed a vaguely meat-flavored brown goo.

  “Scorpion gumbo.” Bee put her hands on her hips. “You two need to clean up. Want me to get the water hot?”

  “How much?” Kevin poked at the soup. He’d smelled worse, so he dug in.

  Bee tilted her head to the left. “One coin per minute.”

  He almost choked on the first spoonful, though not from the taste. Once he finished coughing, he squinted up at Bee with the one eye he could open. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Water’s expensive,” yelled Wayne from behind the counter.

  “Think of it as additional cost of repairs.” Bee’s face whirred as she smiled.

  Tris held up her black-stained arms. “We are kinda filthy.”

  He grumbled. “Yeah, but…”

  “Share a bath?” Tris winked.

  “Shower,” said Bee. “Extra two coins, I’ll even wash your clothes while you’re cleaning up.”

  “Two coins per three minutes,” said Kevin, loud enough for Wayne to hear.

  Wayne didn’t look up from whatever he was doing, though his raised hand indicated acceptance. Bee tottered off to the back room. Tris kept smiling at him as they ate for a few minutes. The gumbo wasn’t half bad, though he did cringe whenever something crunched between his teeth.

  “As tempting as it would be to enjoy the water…” He scraped clean trails in the thick gumbo coating the bottom of the bowl. “I should’ve stuck to eth. Those engines, I can rebuild with my eyes closed. Add circuits and chips and crap and game over.”

  “Well, you got the car put together in the first place. Don’t underestimate yourself.” She dropped her spoon in her empty bowl and yawned. “I’m not sure I’ve got enough energy left for anything past degreasing right now anyway.”

  Bee came by to collect their dishes. “Water heater’s up and ready. If you want me to wash anything, leave it in the basket.”

  Kevin stood and trudged into the little hallway past the bathrooms no one dared use. Soon, his armored jacket stood guard over his boots, shoulder holster, and gun belt while everything cloth went into a metal wire basket near the door. Tris stripped before adding her shoes, katana, and belt to the ‘no-touch’ pile. Shirt, jeans, and undies went into the basket. A claw-foot tub stood in the back corner of what once appeared to have been a storeroom. Two white PVC pipes came in from the wall to a plastic showerhead controlled by individual valves. Kevin set his .45 on a small wooden shelf near the tub as he got in, next to a bar of yellow pumice soap.

  Tris eyed the basket as she followed. “What’ll we do if she doesn’t bring our stuff back?”

  He reached up, grasped both twist valves, and bore the brunt of the ice blast. “Then, I’m going to go have a heart to heart with Wayne.”

  Within seconds of the water starting, Bee ducked in and grabbed the basket. Clock ticking, he didn’t bother waiting for the heat, and set to the task of scrubbing right away. Tris hid behind him until the spray warmed, then got her hair wet. Washing passed as a matter of expedience. Gritty soap scratched up and down his body, chasing off the stains of a long day patching holes and tracing the location of a broken wire. She washed his back and kept going, down over his ass onto his thighs. Her hands lingered there before going back up.

  A little while later, he chuckled. “I didn’t realize my butt was that dirty.”

  She grasped his hand and slid the soap into it. “My turn.”

  The clatter of coins dropping onto the counter played in his mind with each passing minute, though he obliged himself. Kevin pressed the soap against her left shoulder and swiped it across to the right and around her back, working it in a gentle circular pattern. Tris emitted a faint moan of pleasure. Perhaps it was the warm water and pumice, or the lack of a rush, but her skin struck him as softer than he’d remembered it when he’d last been this close to her with no clothes between them.

  Black water ran down her arms, carrying car dirt into the oblivion of the drain. He caressed her for a little while longer before she backed into him and reached up behind her. Kevin set his chin on her shoulder as she laced her fingers behind his head.

  “Another minute and we won’t be able to stop ourselves.” She swayed side to side and rose up on her toes, rubbing her ass back and forth over his crotch.

  “The rooms aren’t too far.” He held her for a little while more before putting the soap up on the shelf and cutting the water off.

  Tris squirmed around to face him. Her dark blue eyes glimmered with a new light, as if she’d somehow managed to escape the weight of whatever burdened her heart. Her hair matted to her head and body, trails of snowy white only a few shades paler than the skin it adhered to. A droplet of water gathered at her chin and fell into the shin-deep murk. She stared up at him with an expression that seemed to radiate need, innocence, fear, trust, worry, and hope all at the same time.

  She wants something I can’t give her… I’m no idealist. He let the air out of his lungs in a slow breath. I should stop before I do more damage. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it as Bee walked in.

  “Laundry’ll be another oh, ninety minutes.” Bee winked. “I’ll tell Wayne you used fifteen minutes of water.” The android leaned forward and whispered past the back of its hand. “Even though you’ve been in here for a half hour.”

  Tris wrapped her arms around him and laid her cheek against his chest. Slight shakes gave away her suppressed laugher.

  “I could use another pair anyway. Can you grab some stuff from the store that’d fit? Pants… shirt?”

  “Sure thing, boss.” Bee pivoted on her heel. “I’ll select the less expensive stuff.”

  Kevin smiled. “Thanks.”

  Bee wobbled out, closing the door behind her.

  “Looks like we got a few minutes,” whispered Tris.

  He felt a bit like a dust-hopper staring into the headlights of an oncoming war wagon as she leaned up and kissed him. Kevin lifted her and stepped out of the bathtub, setting her on a small oval rug. They kissed for a while more. Tris raked her nails over his chest when he bit her earlobe. No sooner had she reached down between his legs and grabbed hold, than Bee returned. Tris froze, blushing, as the android entered with a pile of folded clothing.

  “We had three bottoms in her size. A pink miniskirt, grey dress slacks, and this…” Bee indicated a rolled-up pair of grey-and-white camouflage pants. “Tops in her size, you had a choice between an ‘I’m with stupid’ tee shirt or this… a tank top. Had a white leather halter with spikes, but you don’t have the breasts for it.”

  “Gee, umm, thanks,” said Tris.

  “They’re not that small.” Kevin kissed the side of her head, whispering, “What are you embarrassed for, Bee’s a robot.”

  Tris bit her lip and gave him a playful shove.

  “You are fortunate, Kevin. I found a pair of black jeans in your size as well as a tee without any holes.” The android held up an olive-drab tee shirt with a print of an eagle over a wavy US flag.

  “Oh, yeah… perfect.” Kevin chuckled.

  “Seven coins for the lot,” said Bee. “Unless you want to give me another maintenance process. The hip’s been acting up.”

  “Sure.” Tris grabbed a towel from the wall. “Morning okay?”

  “That is acceptable.” Bee bowed at the hip before walking out.

  Kevin took the towel when she finished with it, and rushed an attempt to dry off before jumping into the new pair of jeans, fixing the button without zipping it, and gathering the rest of his stuff. Tris pulled on the BDU pants, but covered her chest with the bundle of her shoes, belt, and the unworn tank top as she hurried along behind him to the room they’d rented.

  Wayne’s roadhouse had rooms… if you can call a bed stuffed in a large closet a room. Kevin entered and dropped his gear on the floor. Tris scooted in and kicked the door closed, bending forward as she flipped the deadbolt with her toes behind her back. Without a belt on, a bounce sent her
pants to the floor, and she slithered onto the bed.

  Kevin stared at her. What am I doing? His gaze traced over every curve from her feet to her eyes, and back down. Why not? I’m going to hell already. He shucked his pants and climbed into bed.

  A rattle woke Kevin from a dead sleep. He sat up, .45 leveled off at the door as it opened. Bee froze as soon as she spotted the weapon. Kevin sighed, letting his arm fall into his lap. Tris popped up with the Beretta pointed at the wall and yawned.

  “Please do not shoot,” said Bee. “I’m bringing your laundry. I did not intend to wake you.”

  Kevin waved her in. “Don’t worry about it. Thanks.”

  Tris wobbled.

  He grasped her hand, removed the Beretta, and guided her to lay back. “Hey, Bee?”

  The android set a stack of folded clothes on a tiny table and whirled to look at him. “Yes?”

  “Do you dream?”

  Bee shifted her weight. “I do not sleep. While I am not technically ‘awake’ in any sense of the definition of the word, to avoid a cumbersome and lengthy discussion of artificial intelligence philosophy, it will suffice. I am ‘awake’ continuously, without requiring the break you refer to as ‘sleep.’ Since your dream process runs while you are engaged in this ‘sleep’ phase, I am incapable of it.”

  Kevin pressed the cold .45 to his forehead and moaned. “You could’ve just said ‘no.’”

  Bee smiled. “I prefer to give accurate and complete answers.”

  “Thanks, Bee.” He managed a weary smile.

  Once the android walked out and relocked the deadbolt from the outside, Kevin relaxed and flopped down. The room may have been tiny, but at least Bee kept the sheets clean.

  Tris snuggled up to his side. “What was that about?”

  “Mmm?” He threaded an arm around her.

  “Asking Bee if she dreams.”

  He leaned his head to the side, cheek touching her. “It doesn’t sleep… at all.”

  “Mmm.” She yawned.

  “You do.” He squeezed her.

  Tris opened her eyes. “What are you saying?”

  Here we go. Why didn’t I just shut up and go to sleep. “I’m saying I don’t think you’re an android.”

  Her hand crept across his chest. He grasped it with his left. “What if I was programmed to act real? Who knows what kind of technology the Enclave has. Maybe I can fake eating and sleeping.”

  Kevin inhaled the scent of her hair. “You can’t fake kissing like that… or those little noises you―gah!” He squirmed as she attacked his sides.

  They ‘fought’ for a few minutes, each trying to keep the other from tickling them. When at last she collapsed on top of him, out of breath, he kissed her on the nose.

  “See. You’re out of breath.”

  She went from grinning to sniffling.

  “What now?”

  Tris laid her head against his chest. “Some spots of my memory don’t make sense. When I was in Detention, the cell had no toilet. I remember spending hours on the computer terminal doing e-learns, but never eating, cleaning myself, or even so much as peeing.”

  “You were probably terrified and blocked it out.” He leaned up and kissed her. Several minutes later, he let his head down into the pillow. “You are not an android. No robot could kiss like that.”

  “What if I do have the cure in my implant?” She settled down next to him.

  “Unlikely. They sent you into the Wildlands as a two-legged bomb. All they had to do was convince you the data existed.”

  Tris shivered and started to cry. “I had to get this data to Doctor Andrews. If the data’s not real, w-what am I supposed to do?”

  He brushed her hair out of her eyes and cradled her cheek while staring into her wet eyes. “Maybe you could try just being happy?”

  She blinked, sending one tear down her face. Fatigue seemed to overwhelm her. Kevin closed his eyes and tried to let the tension seep out of his muscles. For a few seconds, it felt as if he’d fallen through the bed into a great void, and sleep took him.

  31

  A New Complication

  The shock of being alone in bed snapped Kevin from zero to awake in an instant. He squinted up at the dingy curtain made of coarse red fabric, aglow from a midafternoon sun. Dark horizontal threads seemed spaced at random among thinner areas, which turned pink. The deadbolt looked open. Her clothes, weapons, and shoes were gone.

  He stared at the empty floor where her things had been for a few minutes. Quiet resignation seeped in as he traced his fingers over the bed at his side. The stained white drop ceiling offered no solace to his aimless gaze. One thumbnail-sized beetle crept across. He thought about his balance, 9,408 coins, dwelling on how he’d slipped farther away from the ten grand he needed. His hand passed over the empty part of the mattress. A roadhouse of his own seemed like such a hollow thing. Four walls, a roof, and perhaps a stream of customers. What if it didn’t make him happy?

  Kevin looked again at the floor. She’s run off to get that data… but where?

  He swung his legs over the side and held his head. Her laugh echoed from the recesses of his memory. He imagined her arms around him, her breath on his skin. The idea of falling back into bed for another couple hours seemed like a good one.

  The car. He sighed. Wouldn’t be the first time.

  One hand on his face tried to hold in his emotion. Here I thought I was the one gonna hurt her. He sat up again. What the hell is wrong with me? I gotta make up for that loss. A few minutes of pacing around only served to confuse him more. Why am I not running outside to see if the car is still there? The empty bed haunted him. He slumped seated on the edge and swiped a hand over the sheet, catching a long strand of white hair between his fingers.

  “Yeah… I walked right into it again.” He let the hair fall. “S’pose this beats waking up hugging a cactus at least.”

  He rubbed his face as strange ideas… stupid ideas circled around in his head. Ideas like running off to find her instead of the car. If there is a God, only he knows what I’d do to Morgan if I ever find that bitch.

  Tris walked in, dressed in her new tank top and grey-white camo pants. “Hey.”

  Kevin stared at her.

  She tilted her head. “What’s on your mind? You look hung over.”

  “Nothin’. I… uhh, think I slept too much.”

  “Wayne’s got some food on for us. I packed your spare clothes in the trunk.” The katana on her back rattled as she sashayed over. “You okay?”

  “Fine.” He stood, naked, and sucked in a huge breath.

  Tris squinted. “What the hell is the deal with the bathrooms here?”

  Kevin cringed. “You didn’t―”

  “No… my eyes almost melted when I was two steps away from the door.”

  “Bee won’t even go in there.” He grabbed his boxers and stepped into them. “Gotta say something.”

  She covered her mouth. “That can’t be healthy.”

  “Maybe Wayne’ll pay you to clean it.” He pulled on the eagle tee shirt. “Christ, look at this thing. I’d fit right in if we went back to New Dallas.”

  “He already paid me thirteen for tuning Bee up again. I’ve never seen a model like her before, but she’s pretty old. Prewar.”

  “Well, the News didn’t put her ass together with toothpicks and rebar.” He put his boots on and kicked the toes on the ground.

  “Okay. That was stupid.” She laughed. “Of course they didn’t get Enclave tech.”

  He smiled, locking stares with her. She bit her lip and looked down.

  “I love the way you do that little lip bite thing… it’s cute when your face turns pink.”

  As soon as he said it, she blushed.

  “Food should be ready soon.” She rolled her eyes with mock irritation and walked out.

  Kevin hooked a right out the door and headed to the back porch. He glared at the horizon where heat blur shimmered over the distant expanse of beige as he watered a bush.
It’s happening again. When a scorpion scuttled into view, he shifted to chase it with the stream, but decided against it. That might be dinner later. He grumbled. I didn’t think of the car first… Kevin zipped up. I’m losing it. Too close. Getting careless. He held his breath to get past the bathrooms as they tromped down the narrow corridor between the back porch and the dining area. Wayne’s old armor hung in a glass-fronted display case between two pale green doors, one with a crude sharpie-marker penis on it and the other with a pair of googly cartoon eyes that were probably intended as tits.

  What the heck does she want?

  Wayne, two locals, the tall, long-haired New named Alamo, and Bee glanced at him as he entered and made his way to the booth where Tris waited. She’d taken a seat in the rearmost part of the room, facing the door. Alamo offered a slow nod, a sign no bad blood existed. As with everything else, Kevin kept trust at arm’s length, though he returned the gesture. Tris scooted in as he joined her on the same bench. Bee dropped off two bowls of scrambled eggs mixed with chorizo bits and green chilies.

  He huddled over it, savoring the rare treat of eggs. A couple locals sometimes sold Wayne a few, but he charged through the nose for them. Momentary irritation set in at Tris spending his money when cheaper food would do, but faded under the lump of angst at the beating his ledger entry had already taken. Hell, maybe she bought it with what Wayne paid her for givin’ Bee a reach-around this morning.

  “You sure everything’s okay?” Tris looked up from her bowl. “You looked upset when I walked in.”

  He mumbled over a mouthful of eggs, unable to explain to himself why he was more upset at the idea she was missing rather than his car.

  She smirked.

  “Yeah. Just pissy about the money.”

  “You’ll catch it up.” She slipped an arm around him and rubbed his back. “There’s no rush on it, right?”

  “Only not getting killed before I have enough.” He jammed his fork in the eggs and let it stand. “Wayne’s right. I’m gonna need more than ten grand. Bunch of crap to deal with. Finding a place. Stockin’ up. Havin’ a cushion to live on ‘till word gets ‘round there’s a new ‘house.”