The Roadhouse Chronicles Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Cox, Matthew S.

  Kevin chuckled, but Tris didn’t stop kissing him.

  “Get a room,” yelled Bill.

  Tris leaned back and stared into his eyes. “That’s a great idea.”

  49

  A Slight Miscalculation

  Kevin drained the jar of homemade beer and set it on the table. Ann lugged a whole roast dust-hopper over in a baking tray and set it in the middle of the table. Tris sat close at his left, with Bill at the far end of the table on one side. Paul, Zoe, and Cody crammed together on the facing side, and an open seat on the right waited for Ann.

  Three days had passed since their arrival, and the Chicago survivors all decided to settle in Nederland. Few had anywhere else to be, and none of them had a way out other than walking. Talk of Infected as close as Boulder―and a lack of high-rise buildings here―didn’t go over well, though a population nearing four hundred plus ample weapons and a lot of empty ground helped.

  One thing Infected seemed to detest was wide-open space.

  Kevin shivered. They love to leap out from dark places.

  Bill carved the dust-hopper, and soon everyone had a plate piled high with meat and vegetables. After a few minutes of face-stuffing, Kevin smiled at Zoe. She seemed like an entirely different person from the creepy little waif that gave him nightmares. He kept back from the conversation going around the table. Paul discussed his request to join the militia with Bill, which seemed appealing to both sides.

  As Bill cleared empty plates from the table, Tris got up to help, ignoring protests about being a guest.

  Paul reached over the table and dropped a heavy sock with a knot in it in front of Kevin. It jingled with coins. “Well, a deal’s a deal. I made a slight error in my math. That’s about seventeen hundred coin, not quite the two thousand I’m supposed to have. It’s all I got left. I want you to take it.” He stood. “Oh… Gimme a second.”

  Tris leaned over, forehead to Kevin’s shoulder. “Well, there’s your Roadhouse.”

  Kevin picked the sock up, twirling it around a finger before letting it drop. Cody stared at him with a face that said ‘please don’t kill my dad.’ Zoe bared all her teeth in a huge grin, and tilted her head.

  Paul returned with a doll and sat. To Zoe’s horror, he turned its dress inside out and stuck a finger into the hollow head. After extricating a bit of folded paper, he handed the doll to Zoe, who glared at him as she fixed the little dress back to rights. Paul slid the paper over the blue and white checkered tablecloth.

  Ann set a pitcher of home brewed beer down.

  “A while back, I found a cache of prewar swag in Kansas. This place had a bigass warehouse full of everything you can think of. Last time I was there, the building looked untouched. That’s a map to the place. I got no interest in running around anymore. Course, you’ll need something bigger than that car of yours to collect stuff in… like a bus.”

  “And a little help…” Kevin pushed the sock back to Paul. “Keep it. You got a family, you’ll need it more than me.”

  “Not really a whole lot of use for coins here,” said Bill. “I suppose that might change if we start dealin’ with the outside world… but for now…”

  Kevin smiled. “I ain’t in no hurry. That’s the funny thing about a long journey. Sometimes where you think you’re going isn’t where you really want to go.” He put an arm around Tris and pulled her close. “A ‘house ain’t the most important thing.”

  She stared at him with a mixture of shock, adoration, and tears in her eyes.

  “You sure?” asked Paul.

  Kevin twisted the folded map in his fingers, turning it over, letting the light play off the yellowing notebook page. He kept his right arm firmly around Tris, flicked the map to the table and picked up his beer. “Yeah. What’s one more run?”

  50

  A Good Run of Bad Luck

  Kevin leaned against the front left fender of the Challenger, snapping 7.62x51 ammo into metal clips, adding to the belt for the M60. The salvage run Paul suggested seemed like a reasonably safe prospect, though he still didn’t like the idea of bringing the kids along. As soon as Paul arrived, he’d start an argument that he expected would meander through the ultimatum of ‘I’m not leaving her again’ and wind up with him frustrated and dealing with the worry of protecting an armed little girl. Bandits would―most of the time―ignore children, but if she had a gun… He shivered. Maybe he could find a compromise at insisting she keep her head down and not make herself a target. He chuckled to himself.

  Could always pack her in a suitcase.

  He sighed, snapping another round in place. The scuffing of boots along the gravel road became louder to his right.

  “Morning,” said Bill.

  Kevin looked up.

  Bill and Brett walked up the driveway carrying brick-shaped cardboard boxes that seemed heavy.

  “Morning.” Kevin offered a nod of greeting.

  “I didn’t want to say anything till the town elders stopped quibbling. We wanted to do something for you to thank you for leavin’ all that enclave hardware here. You made Ned a safer place.”

  Kevin held back the cringe that came from being guilted into doing something he didn’t want to do. “Yeah, well…”

  “This here’s 3000 coins. $25 in pennies and $50 in nickels. Consider it a fair trade for the guns and ammo… not to mention a little bit of pay for taking out that raider group.”

  Tris bolted out from a hiding spot at the corner of the house, grinning. She hit Kevin from behind with a wraparound hug and bounced up and down.

  “You knew?” He leaned to the left to fire a playful accusatory look over his right shoulder.

  “I asked her not to let you leave till I could get back.” Bill winked. “Like I said, we don’t have much use for coins. They’re more for wanderers, and something tells me you’re not quite ready to settle down here.”

  Kevin gazed down at his boots, shaking his head and chuckling. “Not rightly yet, no. As nice as it is in Ned…”

  “You’ve been wanting something so long it’s like part of you.” Bill handed him the box of pennies. “If you ever change your mind, there’s a place for you here.”

  After a strong handshake, Kevin nodded once. “’Preciate that. If things don’t work out, maybe we’ll be back.”

  Paul, Zoe, and Cody appeared at the far end of the looping road to the left. Except for the AR-15 in her hands, the little blonde looked like the picture of happy innocence.

  Kevin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Help me out here. I need to talk him into letting his kids stay here where it’s safe.”

  “You know no matter how much you try to tell him it isn’t necessary, Paul’s determined to ‘pay you back’ for getting him out of Chicago. He’s also not about to spend another minute separated from his family.” Bill scratched his head. “That old warehouse he found doesn’t seem like it’s in too bad a spot. Suppose Ned could spare some militia for extra security if you’re willing to negotiate on some of the spoils. Be safer for everyone.”

  “Yeah.” He tapped his fingers on the penny box. “Feels kinda strange to be holding my dream in my hands. No sense takin’ a dumb chance now. Deal.”

  Three weeks later, the Challenger crunched over the sand-swept parking lot of an abandoned rest stop off Route 80 about twenty minutes west of what used to be Rawlins, Wyoming. Kevin’s heart raced no less than seven times on the way in when other vehicles passed. None turned out to be hostile, and encountering more traffic in one day than he’d seen in a month gave him hope the spot might work out. He regarded the battered building; the remains of a huge filling station sat to the left of the main structure. From the looks of it, the pre-war owner had been slow to adapt to the e-conversion, and many of the spaces still had dead gasoline pumps. He cringed at the thought of the mess lurking in underground tanks, but it’s not like getting the fuel system up and running was a worry.

  The building looked more promising. Nowhere near as large as the one Whazzat stumbled on
, it still had plenty of space to convert into rentable rooms as well as an old fast food restaurant, which, even if it couldn’t be salvaged, would offer a place to install a new kitchen. The unexpected influx of coin from Bill would bankroll any additional equipment he needed. From a structural standpoint, it had no major issues. The wide-open field behind it with park benches and picturesque puffs of green scrub brush lent a nice touch. The scene looked like it belonged as a painting on the wall in a steakhouse. A battered shack stood a quarter mile to the right by the start of the approach ramp, next to the derelict hulk of an old dump truck. Whatever was in there could wait; nothing had disturbed it for decades… another few months wouldn’t hurt.

  Paul’s warehouse idea turned out well, all things considered. They’d only run into one pack of bandits. Zoe had listened to her dad and stayed down while adults traded bullets between moving vehicles. Kevin had no idea who ‘Amazon’ had been or why she had a giant warehouse full of so many different items. Everything from books to underpants to cat litter. There had been food as well, but not even God could’ve saved it after fifty plus years. Bill, who’d wound up coming along, appropriated a bunch of camping supplies for Ned as well as some clothes and other tools. Despite what the militia kept, the bus remained packed to the brim with stuff―inside as well as on the roof. Zoe had hit a stuffed-animal gold mine while Cody had barely said a word to anyone after making off with several large boxes full of books.

  The bus rolled up and parked sideways across the fading paint of several car-sized spots.

  “Doesn’t look like much yet, but what do you think?”

  Tris reached over and slid her arm around his shoulders. “I think it looks like weeks of ass-breaking work.” She grinned.

  “Yeah. That it does, but no one will be shooting at us.” He patted his armored jacket. “I’m gonna need a glass-walled case.”

  “I still can’t believe Amarillo. So big… and… all those people.” She bit her lip. “I’m glad the Enclave doesn’t know about it.”

  “They have to. And they’re probably terrified of pissing them off like everyone else is.” He chuckled.

  “So… five thousand coins gone like that huh?” She shook her head. “Your whole life’s work.”

  “It’s an investment.” He smiled. “They should be here in a few days with the solar panels, sign, and charging hardware.”

  “You sure they’re coming?”

  “Yep.” He gestured over his shoulder at the trunk. “Another five grand waiting. Plus that whole ‘code’ thing. Wayne’s gotta be crying in his beer right about now. That ol’ bastard kept waitin’ for me to get myself killed so he could keep my bankroll.”

  She smiled. “Really?”

  “Well… he probably wasn’t hoping for it, but I doubt he’d have been too upset if it happened.”

  “Would you let me die to get ten thousand coins?” She peered up at him.

  He smirked. “Why do women always ask crap like that? Of course not.”

  She leaned into him. “You mean that?”

  Kevin stared into the glass front doors of his soon-to-be roadhouse. “Yeah… I never really thought about anything else but not getting dead and getting my ass off the road. Now… If someone told me I could have my roadhouse or be with you, I wouldn’t even hesitate.” He kissed her.

  She let her tongue linger in his mouth for a moment before pulling back with a smile. “So you do like me more than your car?”

  “Hey now. Let’s not get too crazy.” He chuckled.

  Tris smirked and jabbed him in the side, smiling. “Ass.”

  Paul walked over in no great hurry, stretching hours of driving out of his legs. Zoe squealed and laughed nearby, running in circles holding a big stuffed green dragon with purple wings over her head.

  Kevin got out, as did Tris.

  “Looks like a fixer-upper,” said Paul.

  “That it is.” Kevin stretched.

  Paul stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Could probably stick around a week or two till you get it off the ground. Don’t think Bill would mind.”

  He clapped Paul on the shoulder. “Alright. Best work fast though. Ann’s going to kill you if you don’t bring Zoe back soon.”

  Paul chuckled.

  Tris grabbed Kevin’s hand. “Ready to go inside?”

  Kevin squinted at the weakening afternoon sun. Well, Dad, guess I made it. He offered a moment of silence for the father he barely knew before heading for the door. “Been ready for this for years… never thought I’d live to see it.”

  She tugged him to a halt as his hand touched the door. When he looked over to ask why, she leaned up and kissed him on the lips. Zoe zoomed along in the background, pretending her plush dragon flew around. Kevin smiled, much happier to see her without a gun. Tris watched her go by with such a starry-eyed expression, he wondered if the life of a courier would be less scary than what waited for him.

  “Aww, Hell.” He scooped her up into his arms and carried her past the doors. “We’re home.”

  fin

  1

  End of the Rainbow

  Content with his third pass over the ledger, Kevin closed the black and white marbled cover, securing it with a rubber band. He leaned both hands on the dusty counter covered in beat-up linoleum and shot a glance to the right, down a short concourse lined with long-dead shops. Outside, four islands’ worth of ancient gas pumps stood covered with weeds and windblown detritus. Whoever had owned the rest stop prior to the war had bothered to convert only four filling stations to electric. That left twenty gasoline pumps rotting in place, with who-knows-what kind of mess lurking in subterranean tanks. Pre-war fuel might’ve been viable for six to eight months… Every time he felt a spark of motivation to clean it up, the idea of what fifty-year-old gasoline sludge would be like changed his mind. Not that many functioning cars remained on the roads these days. Having the ability to charge every operational vehicle left in the world all at once―throwing even more money at Amarillo―could wait. The six-port board in front of the building would do for now.

  Of course, if he did revamp the old gas pumps to charging stations, he’d have the highest-capacity roadhouse within two hundred miles, though he’d have to buy more plugs, cables, patch panels, and probably more batteries as well. Far too much money to spend on maybe having more than six people needing to charge their rides up at once. He sighed and shifted his gaze to the room before him.

  On the left, a space formerly used as a seating area for fast food counters held freestanding tables as well as the original booths along the window. Around the seating area, spaces which once housed a tiny donut station, McDonalds, KFC, map shop, bookstore, and a store that sold random crap like keychains and tee shirts, had been modified into large ‘premium rooms’ for guests to spend the night.

  Right of the counter, a handful of tables continued into the walkway that used to run past a huge coffee shop. With the help of Tris and Paul, he’d converted the café that took up half the building and separated it into individual chambers. Where once motorists lined up for overpriced java, an opening led to a C-shaped passage with twelve tiny rooms for the economy-minded traveler.

  The narrow hallway left of his counter led to restrooms; the men’s, they’d converted to the store where he sold weapons, clothes, and other supplies people offloaded here, as well as anything the Code let him take from the corpses of any poor bastard killed on the premises. Fortunately, that had only happened once in the six months since he’d opened the doors.

  A grin formed as he traced his fingers down the notebook cover. The Code didn’t bother to set any guidelines for how much he could take out of drivers’ pay, but he’d been doing it long enough to know that anyone who went over ten percent wound up with an empty room and a ledger full of untaken work. Wayne rode the limit―ten on the nose―though Hagerman sat isolated enough from other roadhouses that no one did much more than gripe about it. People in that area with cargo to move didn’t enjoy a lot of choice.
If they had the ability to reach another ’house, they could transport the shit themselves. This section of Interstate 80, about twenty minutes west of the ruins of Rawlins, Wyoming, didn’t have quite the same cushion of nothingness around it, so Kevin opted for six percent.

  Granted, he got about five times the traffic as Wayne’s place, so it worked out.

  Kevin stretched, folded his arms, and surveyed the dining area, quiet in a lull of moist chewing and the scratching of forks on metal plates. Four regulars and seven passersby joined in the mutual headspace where nothing else existed but for the food in front of them.

  Kaz, a hulking tanned guy in road-worn leathers, reminded him of the irritable scimitar-wielding giant from an old movie he’d watched as a kid. Fortunately, the man’s temperament was far more amenable to civilization than some insane warlord’s henchman. He kept to himself at the corner table, near the door to one of the premium rooms.

  Past a family of five―man, woman, and three kids six-ish or younger, Athena occupied a table next to another newcomer. The girl liked white. Liked white in the way some men liked steak and blowjobs. White pants, white shirt, white car. Heck, she’d even tried to paint her sidearm. The young blonde might’ve been eighteen if she were lucky, and reminded Kevin of himself at that age. At least she’s keeping her eye on the room.

  Despite her focus on eating, the scrape of her voice picked at the inside of Kevin’s skull. From the look on the face of the dark-skinned behemoth at the table with her, someone he hadn’t seen before, that man had about reached the point of being done with her too. Of course, few men would object to a pretty blonde helping herself to share a table with them, but after fifteen minutes of that one’s nonstop mouth…

  A scattering of dust-covered men lined the booths along the front windows. Brief conversation while dropping off their food suggested they traveled west, looking for a larger settlement to join. Only two were armed.