“Got bleach.” Bill lifted his right leg, bracing his boot against the wall. “It’s possible they were arrogant enough to let it out. They made the Virus, so it stands to reason they know how to stop it, assuming they aren’t complete morons. They’d have to plan for the contingency of a backfire, and how to cure their own people if something went wrong.”
“Nathan looked that arrogant.” Kevin wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm.
“I bet they never thought we’d have the equipment to produce any form of usable medicine from it too.”
“Yeah. From what Tris says, they think everything outside their nice little paradise is all a bunch of painted savages running around raping and killing everything that moves.”
“Some places ain’t too far off from that. Blood Flag nomads out here, and there’s a couple bands in the deep woods ‘round the Appalachians that’d flip a coin to decide if they wanna eat or try to impregnate you.”
Kevin shook water out of the cup and threw it back in the trunk. “Seems like an awful lot of trouble to go to in order to kill ‘the resistance.’ What’s the Enclave afraid of?”
Bill shrugged. “That, I can’t answer. You’d have to ask Doctor Andrews.”
Tris lifted a large steel bowl off the electric heating element, leaning her face away from the plume of steam wafting from the top. She poured it over the breakfast dishes piled in the sink, loosing the smell of pan-fried ham and eggs in the air. Ann worked a cloth around the table, eventually gathering a handful of crumbs and food bits in her hand as she pulled the rag off the edge. Zoe sat, staring at Tris, still with a half-eaten ham steak in front of her on a plate.
“You really didn’t have to do that.” Ann glanced at Tris while patting Zoe on the head. “Finish your food, sweetie. There’s kids starving out there who’d love to have it.”
Tris expected Zoe to say something like ‘well they can have it,’ but the girl grabbed the meat in her hands and chewed on it. Ann made a face, but seemed content enough that the child ate not to bother her about how.
“You wouldn’t let us pay you for the food… I don’t want to be a mooch.” Tris used a rag that had once been a shirt to wash dishes. “I’m surprised really. It’s almost comfortable here.”
“We’re lucky. Nederland isn’t fancy, but it’s safe.”
Tris looked up as Kevin passed by the window outside, carrying a bucket, white as a sheet. Zoe’s reflection glared at Ann, an apparent reaction to ‘safe.’ Something’s really bothering him.
“The two of you should consider settling in. There’s plenty of unused buildings.” Ann tossed the rag on the counter and reached to shut off a circuit breaker where the hot plate plugged in. “Gotta save power. The batteries only go so far, and the wiring goes down every couple of days.”
“What’ll you do if the solar panels fail or the battery gives out?” Tris handed Ann a clean plate.
Ann dried it. “I suppose it’ll be back to wood fires for cooking. Our farm’s doing well. People lived long before we knew about electricity. We’ll figure something out. It’s nice here. A good place to raise a family.”
Zoe shoved away from the table and stormed off down the hall, stomping.
Tris watched her until the girl slipped out of sight into a doorway down the hall. “That poor kid.”
“She got separated from her father a few months ago. Bill found her wandering alone when he made his way down from the east. Poor thing was half dead from starvation.” Ann leaned on the counter, head down. “It’s a miracle nothing worse happened to her.”
“Yeah.” Images from the ‘historic documentaries’ replayed in her head, hinting at the sort of depravity that the Enclave believed to exist. This little town wasn’t part of that world. “It’s sweet of you to take her in. I hope she heals.”
Ann looked up, seeming sad. “Me too. You really ought to stay here. Pretty, delicate girls like you don’t last long out there.”
Tris winked. “I’m not as delicate as I look.”
33
Exceptions
With the Challenger as clean as possible, and the scent of bleach stuck in his nostrils, Kevin carried the bucket of dirty water a short distance away to dump it. Bill hopped on his bike to go check the status of ‘the count.’ After he stowed the cleaning supplies in the trunk and slammed the lid, Kevin tromped up the small porch and kicked dirt off his boots on the edge of the top step. Inside, Ann and Tris stood by the sink, chatting over dishes. He took a deep breath, filled with the scent of the great breakfast they’d enjoyed, and found himself salivating.
“Bill went to check up on the ammo.” Kevin pulled a chair out.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Tris threw a rag at him. “You’re not going to watch the women do dishes. Get your ass over here and help.”
He chuckled. “Okay, okay.”
Zoe’s shrill scream emanated from the back end of the house.
Ann looked in that direction, worry evident on her face.
“I got it. My hands are dry.” Kevin shoved the chair against the table. “Probably saw a spider or something.”
He jogged into the hallway. Three strides from the ladder leading to the loft, the report of a rifle going off upstairs pounded his ears. Kevin stumbled into the wall and rushed forward. The gun fired three more times while he hurried up the red-painted wooden ladder. Little Zoe, barefoot in a denim dress, knelt by the windowsill of her bedroom, aiming a full sized AR-15 over the sill.
Outside, a man screamed.
Another voice shouted, “Dammit, kid. Drop the friggin’ gun. I don’t wanna shoot a little girl.”
The same voice that screamed in pain shouted, “Kill the bitch.”
Kevin grabbed the top of the ladder, about to haul himself into the loft. Zoe shifted left and aimed down at a sharp angle, firing three more times. Spent brass bounced off the wall; one landed in a crystal bowl full of pink barrettes with a clink.
“Bad guy inside!” yelled Zoe. She yelped and aimed higher, firing every four or five seconds.
A man in a vest made of tire treads and leather scraps over black military fatigues crept by in the hall right below. He aimed a boxy assault rifle toward the kitchen, and cast a quick glance at the ladder, evidently trying to sneak up on the armed child from behind. At the sight of Kevin, he yelled, “Shit!” and swung his rifle around.
Kevin dove from the loft, tackling the man into the wall and shoving him to the ground. Gunfire popped and snapped outside, distant as well as nearby. A smash announced the front door failing to a boot.
“Don’t move, ladies,” yelled a different man. “Coins, ammo, and food. Take it easy. We ain’t here for women. Hand over the pistol, nice and slow.”
Kevin snarled as he wrestled for control of the rifle. The man kicked his legs in an effort to roll over on top, but Kevin reared up and slugged the raider in the head four times, leaving him dazed.
“P-please d-don’t rape us,” mewled Tris.
Oh boy, someone’s about to have a bad fuckin’ day. Kevin sat up on his knees and wrenched the rifle away from the semiconscious thug. A second after he knocked the man out with a golf club like swing, a staccato slap of fist-on-meat came from the kitchen.
“Ay, Dios mio!” yelled Ann.
Thud.
Footsteps approaching from behind halted with a rapport of a 5.56 from upstairs. Kevin whirled around, aiming out the back door at a twenty-something woman in similar armor made of old tires. She fell on one knee, screaming from a bullet wound in the thigh. Kevin gave her a ‘don’t’ look. One of these days I’m gonna get killed for hesitating at killing a chick.
“Drop the gun, bitch,” yelled Zoe. The child shrieked as a few gunshots boomed outside.
Snaps and pops came from overhead, bullets piercing the wall. Kevin fired over the woman’s head, a near miss on the trunk of a tree forced three men to duck―and stop shooting at Zoe.
The dirt-smeared face of the woman less than ten yards from the porch ra
n with sweat. A rifle went off in the kitchen.
“Zoe!” Ann shrieked and sprinted down the hall to the ladder.
“What the fuck is going on?” yelled Kevin.
The armored woman looked at her bleeding leg for a second before falling face-first to the ground. More men shouted outside, and a ripple of rapid gunshots preceded the ping of bullets striking large boulders in the dirt hill behind the house. Kevin jumped to his feet, a quick glance to his right confirmed Tris unhurt and braced against the doorjamb in front, shooting at a target outside with what appeared to be an FN-FAL rifle. Whatever it was, it looked far older than the one Kevin grabbed.
He rushed left, heading for the back door. Bill, Brett, and about eight others including Emma, the young girl he’d seen at the gate, advanced on the pines. The thirteen-year-old crept through the weeds like a trained soldier, AK leading the way. She swiveled at something, fired twice, and made a hand signal at one of the men who scurried in a wide flanking jog.
“I’m okay,” yelled Zoe, sounding petulant. “They shot my room.”
Kevin ran out the back door, hooked a right, and took cover at the corner of the house. The attacking force retreated back up and over the long ridge. More pops and snaps echoed in the forest from bullets holing tree trunks or striking rocks. When a beefy figure reared up from behind a boulder as big as a compact car with a grenade in his hand, Kevin fired twice. The bandit shuddered and went over backward. After a six count, and no explosion, Kevin ran up on him, still aiming at the man’s head.
The bandit’s black fatigue pants had soaked to his right knee, and four tiny bullet holes in the tire vest bubbled with blood. Kevin tilted the rifle to look at the side. A fire-select switch by his thumb indicated ‘2.’ A rifle that fired a two round burst with such speed it sounded like a single gunshot turned his brain into a whirring mess for a second as he tried to imagine how many coins he could get out of Wayne for it.
“Clear,” yelled Zoe from high and behind. “The bad guys are running.”
Bill jogged over. “You okay?”
Kevin nodded. “Yeah, that woman’s not dead.” He gestured at the one Zoe got in the thigh. “I think. Could be bleeding heavy.”
“Brett, Ed, check her.” Bill pointed at the fallen bandit and returned his gaze to the hills. “Bastards must’ve come in on foot since they can’t get past the gate. That’s a shitty hike. They must be getting desperate. Guess we’re going to have to assign a patrol path out that way.”
Tris jogged outside, carrying an all-black FAL with a bayonet. She halted between the two men. “Well that explains that.”
“What?” asked Bill and Kevin simultaneously.
“Ann said Ned was ‘safe,’ and Zoe gave her such a look.” Tris stared at Kevin’s rifle.
As if on cue, the little blonde girl emerged from the back door, still carrying the AR15 almost as long as she was tall. Kevin squinted at her and picked up the hand grenade. Ann grabbed the kid by the shoulder, keeping her from leaving the porch. Zoe looked up and back at her, but didn’t offer much protest.
“What’s up with that?” Kevin gestured at her. “Arming a what, nine-year-old? That’s gonna make her a target.”
Brett and Ed rolled the bandit woman over and tore the leg of her pants open. Ed put a hand on the thigh while Brett collected a pistol and several knives before removing her truck tire armor.
“Kid’s not a bad shot.” Bill smiled. “She doesn’t like killing people, so she aims for legs. In Ned, everyone is responsible for defending the town. ‘Course, Zoe is a bit young, but I’d rather have her able to defend herself than be at the mercy of whatever makes it inside.”
“Someone’s gonna kill her.” Kevin shook his head. “Giving her a gun is like painting a target on her forehead.”
“Who are these people?” Tris glanced at the woman. “Why did they attack your house?”
“Bad luck.” Bill pointed at the trees. “The way they came in from the southwest… the trails on the far side of that ridge lead right here.”
Emma, now at the top of the hill, made a series of hand signals. Bill waved her back. She moved in a slow turn, surveying the area before lowering her rifle and trudging down the hill.
“Em spotted six people leaving, two vehicles about a half mile away.” Bill slung his rifle on a strap over his shoulder. “We got about five more in town coming in from the northeast.”
Two of the ‘Nederland Irregulars’ dragged the man Kevin knocked out from the house.
Bill chuckled. “You one of them pacifists?”
“Yeah right,” said Kevin.
Tris winked. “No, he’s too cheap to spend the ammo.”
He laughed. “I didn’t want to get blood all over your nice wall.”
“Bandits.” Tris edged closer to Kevin. “They were here to steal whatever they could get their hands on.”
“You whimper well.” Kevin winked.
She smirked, and gave him a light punch in the arm. “Distracted him, didn’t it?”
“And you wonder why I don’t trust women.” Kevin hunted around the rifle. When he found what he thought was the safety, he pushed it, and a magazine fell out of the butt. Rather than bullets, it had a stack of dull brown-orange blocks. “What the hell is this?”
“Looks like caseless ammo.” Bill clucked his tongue. “Good damn luck finding more of that out here.”
“They must’ve discovered a crashed Hoplite or something,” said Tris. “That rifle’s from… uhh, you-know-who.”
Shit. Kevin grumbled.
Distant men and women yelled ‘clear’ at varying intervals.
“Even more reason to sell this thing.” Kevin slung it over his shoulder. He narrowed his eyes into the wind, watching the two men carry the shot bandit woman away. “What’ll ya do with her?”
Bill shrugged. “If she survives, city elders will take a vote. Depends on what she’s gotta say for herself.”
“How often do you get attacked here?” asked Tris.
“Once a week… sometimes once every two. Gate keeps us pretty protected against anything big, but every now and then they pull crap like this and sneak in on foot.”
“Why don’t you counterattack?” Kevin opened and closed his right hand, at last noticing the soreness from punching someone in the skull. “Track ‘em back to wherever they come from and take them out.”
“Couple of the elders think it crosses the line from being settlers to being a bandit group with a town.” Bill lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Course, I could pay you a bit to do a scouting mission. If it happens to turn into a firefight, well…”
“I’m not a merc. I drive shit around.” Kevin sighed. “I usually try to avoid gunfights.”
“I’ll do it.” Tris glanced at Zoe. “If they come back, there’s at least two who’ll be gunning for her.”
Kevin leaned back, staring at the clouds. Goddammit, why me? He moaned. “Fine. We’ll scout.”
Zoe and Ann approached. The kid’s denim dress looked like it had been someone’s skirt in a past life. It clung to her chest, leaving her shoulders bare, held up by a hand-tied strip of blue cloth looped behind her neck. Take away the rifle, and the shoeless girl would paint a perfect picture of country innocence. She clutched the AR15, index finger straight near the trigger but not on it, and held it sideways, pointed at the ground.
After an appraising look at the boxy rifle he’d acquired, Zoe nodded. “That one’s big enough.”
“Zoe, please go inside.” Bill patted her on the head.
Kevin cringed when the girl turned away, at a trail of blood on the back of her left shoulder. “She’s hit.”
Zoe shook her head. “I gots a splinters from a bullet hittin’ the wall. Ann took it out.”
Tris stared at him.
“Okay, okay. Fine. You know this is a bad idea.” Kevin stomped toward the Challenger. “I’m too close to my goal. This is going to get me killed, and I will haunt you.”
“I�
�m not asking you to do anything stupid.” Tris ran to the passenger side door. “Besides, I’ll protect you.” She winked and got in.
Oh, that’s just great. He slid the rifle in behind the driver’s seat, chucked the new grenade in ‘the box,’ and got in.
“Remember…” Kevin stared at her, half grinning. “I’m going to haunt you.”
She pulled the magazine out of the AK to count shots. “I can live with that.” Tris slapped the mag in. “Sixteen left. How many in that thing?”
“Not a damn clue.” He reversed into a K-turn. “And I don’t mean ‘creepy footsteps in the attic’ or ‘shadows in the hallway’ kinda haunting. There will be naughty touching involved.”
Tris laughed.
34
Fair is for Dead Men
The Challenger handled the iffy dirt roads in the hills south of Nederland with some difficulty, though the all-wheel-drive arrangement made it possible. Kevin kept it at about twenty miles an hour, wary of ruts and bumps. Bill had given him some brief directions to where he believed the bandit camp was. Trying to figure out what to do when he got there felt like attempting to cut a tomato seed with a knife. As soon as he got what he thought was a decent idea, it slipped out from under his brain.
“What does that face mean?” asked Tris.
He squeezed the wheel, keeping an eye out for tire tracks or any sign of life. “I got some issues going to a place specifically to kill people.”
“I understand that… but these ‘people’ ran into a peaceful settlement and started shooting at us.”
“Honestly, I think Zoe fired first.” Kevin chuckled, and right away felt guilty for doing so. “One of ‘em said he didn’t wanna shoot a kid. Yeah, I know, bandits left me alone when I was little… but still.”
“Maybe we can convince them to settle in Ned like citizens?” Tris raised an eyebrow. Her expression and tone gave away her lack of sincerity.
“I don’t think they’re going to feel much like talking.”
The Roadhouse Chronicles Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 31
