The Roadhouse Chronicles Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Cox, Matthew S.

  Marty, still wearing the trench coat he’d had on in Chicago, entered ass-first, carrying two wooden crates full of vegetables. His SPAS-12 rattled against his back on a strap. Zara followed, also with two crates in her much smaller arms. She got a couple stares from the room.

  A prickle of pins and needles ran up and down Kevin’s body at the sight of the black-haired Enclave sniper who’d shot him with the metal spiders from hell. Despite her having decided to stay at Nederland, he’d still trust her more bound and gagged. Never did get that bitch back for that… shock thing.

  “Hey,” said Tris.

  Marty set the crates on the counter and shook Kevin’s hand. “Hey dude. Sorry it took so long. Emma snuck onto the truck. We had to turn around and bring her back.”

  “She wanted to help ‘guard the shipment,’” said Zara. “Honestly, she’s not a bad shot… for a kid with no implants.”

  “Thirteen,” said Marty. “Her parents would’ve cut our balls off.”

  “Speak for yourself.” Zara winked at him and set down her two crates. “All the vegetables you could want for a while. Fresh grown from Ned.”

  Tris leaned on the counter. “How’s it going there?”

  “Boring.” Zara shrugged. “Farm’s doing well. Get the occasional Infected wobbling up the road from Boulder, but it’s been quiet.” She laughed at a sudden thought. “Some idiots tried to raid us two months back, but they took one look at the gate and changed their minds.”

  Kevin thought back to the pair of flipped heavy-duty dump trucks and chuckled. “Yeah… good luck moving that.” Ned… He looked around at the room, then out the window at the long strip of empty highway. High up in the mountains… giant freakin’ gate.

  Marty patted Zara on the ass and started toward a table. She grinned and trailed after, dragging her hands over the counter as she departed. Tris followed, trying to start a conversation to catch up on what her ‘Enclave friend’ had been doing since they’d last seen each other.

  Neeley waved at Kevin. When he looked, the skinny man beckoned him over.

  Kevin, eyes on the room, meandered to their table. “What’s up?”

  “Forgot to mention,” said Neeley, “Ween was lookin’ for whiskey. Said he’s willin’ ta pay sixty coins for any unopened bottles.”

  Kevin scratched his eyebrow. Usually get about fifty coins on a bottle, sellin’ shots at three each. “Okay… I’ll put the word out, but I need my stock.”

  Sang whistled from the kitchen portal.

  It took him a moment to remember Bee was in the back counting coins. Kevin retrieved Neeley’s dust hopper steak and fries from Sang, and brought it out with a beer.

  “You’re too kind.” Neeley all but drooled on himself.

  Kevin eased himself into a chair. “Part o’ Fitch helpin’ out while I went runnin’ off. Hey… you two know much about an outfit callin’ themselves The Redeemed?”

  Neeley moaned with ecstasy as while chewing on a hunk of dust hopper meat.

  “Some rumors.” Fitch twisted his mason jar glass side to side. “Same sorta rumors you hear about any bike club.”

  Neeley held up a finger, wanting the savoring to last a bit longer.

  “Any idea what kinda bug they’d get up their asses about roadhouses?” asked Kevin.

  Fitch mumbled something inaudible. “Nothin’ comes to mind. Only odd thing I heard once someone sayin’ they think they’re some kinda outfit what ‘helps people,’ but they ain’t no different from any other roving group like that. They do whatever suits their purposes at the time.”

  “Mmm.” Neeley frowned, chewing another hunk of meat. He shook his head while trying (and failing) to talk with a full mouth.

  “Fuckin’ Wayne, man.” Kevin flung his weight back in the chair. “I don’t get what happened there.”

  “Wmmpnd?” asked Neeley.

  Kevin’s gaze drooped, though the rest of him remained motionless. “They killed Wayne. I’m half tempted to shoot anyone comin’ in the door with that symbol on.”

  “Whmm smmbl?”

  “Redeemed symbol,” said Fitch.

  Kevin traced his finger around in a midair circle. “White fist holdin’ a sword in the middle of a ring.”

  Neeley coughed and spat up an unrecognizable brownish-red lump. “Shit. Wayne? Fuck. I saw a bunch of them dudes in a ’house off 84 on my way outta Ween’s place.” He froze for an instant, all the anger evaporated from his face to a serious look. He pointed at Kevin. “Fuck that guy. Living up at a mountain lake. That’s an annoying ass ride.” His eyebrows shifted to a glower. “So I’m on I-84 comin’ southeast through the gap and I stop for the night. There’s a couple guys wearin’ that symbol at a table… one of ’em had this hat on that looked just like Wayne’s.”

  Kevin’s cheeks flushed with angry heat. He leaned forward. “How many?”

  “Three. They was talkin up some shit too ’bout how they killed someone they had a real hate on for.” Neeley plucked the chewed lump off the table and ate it.

  Wayne’d never forgive me if I don’t take this chance. “Could you recognize those guys?”

  Neeley rocked his head left to right. “Yeah.” He nodded. “Yep.”

  “Little man does have an eye for details,” said Fitch.

  Kevin drummed his fingers on the table. A hunting expedition sounded more plausible now. There could be dozens of Redeemed, but only five that needed to die. Fair bet the two Neeley hadn’t seen were either bleeding out somewhere, dead already, or trying to recover. Of course, they could’ve gone in any direction from the ’house Neeley spotted them in. A trip like that could take a week or two… or longer. Maybe the Redeemed hoped to start some kind of war. Maybe they somehow had a personal beef with Wayne. Didn’t make sense that Nevada had seen some of them at another ’house behaving themselves when others had all but kicked in the door at Nash’s place shooting. Factions? Ugh. Tris isn’t gonna like this. I can’t leave Sang here alone for two weeks… and mixing gangs with Tris… that’d start a pile of trouble.

  “Fitch… Neeley…” Kevin stilled his fingers. “I’m sorely tempted to find the sorry sons of bitches who killed Wayne. Seems like a pretty dumb thing to do alone.”

  “Pretty dumb thing to leave this”―Neeley waved a fry around at the room―“to go off on a bounty.”

  “But it’s the right thing to do.” Fitch took a long, slow drink. “Surprised you hadn’t gone already.”

  “Didn’t know who to go after.” Kevin tapped his boot. “Security system at Wayne’s didn’t work. If Neels can ID the fuckers…”

  “Yep.” Neeley offered an eager nod while jamming fried potatoes in his mouth. “Damn, I love these.”

  “Slow down there, boy.” Fitch laughed. “You might get up to human weight.” He eyed Kevin. “You’re circlin’ ’round askin’ us if we’d sign on ta help. Well… yeah. Count us in. Gotta send a message.”

  “Five grand don’t hurt neither.” Neeley’s attempt to laugh sounded more like a donkey getting kicked in the balls.

  Kevin chuckled. “About that…”

  17

  Imperative

  Kevin glanced up when a flash of Tris’ snow-white hair caught his eye. She retrieved a room key from behind the counter and brought it over to Zara and Marty. The two hurried off like a pair of teenagers who couldn’t wait to get naked. Wow. Never imagined that… The idea of Zara wanting to be that close to a ‘dirty wildlander’ was even more far-fetched than a woman with looks like hers having interest in the thick-bodied, quick-triggered, trench-coated, shotgun-toting Marty. Then again, the dude was all right despite his strange fascination for video games.

  Takes a certain kind o’ fucked up ta yell, ‘head shot, fatality’ when ya kill a man, but everyone out here’s a crazy in one way or another. “Hmph.” He looked at Fitch. “Gimme a bit. Not gonna run right out the door, probably be at least a day of prep.”

  Fitch nodded over his beer.

  Neeley dropped three coins at
him. “More fries.”

  Kevin grinned and slapped his hand down on the coins before they rolled to the floor, unsure if he would’ve asked for them… but since the man offered. “Be right back.”

  “What’re you gonna do if she says no?” asked Fitch, a hint of smile in his eyes.

  Kevin rolled the coins about in his palm, staring at them. “Depends on how she goes about sayin’ it.”

  He walked back to the counter, where Tris perched. “Of all the things in this world I don’t understand, how you’re so friendly to that woman is near the top of the list.”

  “We went to grade school together.”

  Kevin blinked. “She tried to shoot you and cut your head off.”

  “She was confused. Zara didn’t mean it. And she did shoot me. She didn’t try to.”

  “How do you ‘not mean’ putting a bullet through someone and reaching for a machete? Oops, sorry I shot you in the back then hiked a hundred yards over to finish you off on accident.”

  Tris chuckled. “She didn’t believe the Enclave was full of shit until they abandoned her out here.”

  “I don’t know if I can trust her.”

  “You could probably tie her up again.” Tris gave him a coy wink. “After we left her like that for hours, she got to liking it. Apparently, Marty’s into it too… that’s how they―”

  He raised his hands. “Okay, fine. Forget it.”

  “What aren’t you telling me?” Tris slid over to him, hip against the counter.

  Kevin sighed. “Neeley saw the men who killed Wayne. Three guys in Redeemed colors. One had Wayne’s hat on… and they were bragging about killing someone.”

  She crossed her arms, displeasure clear on her face. “And you’re thinking of going after them.”

  “The thought had crossed my mind.”

  “What if you get killed?” She stared at him. “Yeah, you’re going after three guys, but they’re part of a gang. They have friends who won’t give a shit what they did. You go in there, you better be ready to kill everything that moves. And… and…”

  He grasped her by the biceps, pulled her close, and kissed her. “I’d be taking Fitch and Neeley with me. Neels can pick out the guys who did it. I’m not going to do it stupid like with Tyrant.”

  “You think you’re going without me?” She raised both eyebrows.

  Kevin took one step back, raising a placating hand. “Tris… One, you’re astoundingly beautiful. Like, cause these idiots to drive straight into walls because they’re staring at you hot. Even if we find Redeemed, and they’re not the right ones… we couldn’t just walk away because they’d probably try to grab you. Two, if you see them doing some shady shit, you’re going to want to get involved, and that’s going to set off a shitstorm… there’ll be bullets, screaming…”

  She grumbled. “You’re still upset at me for Cloud 9?”

  “No. No… I wanted to help those women too, just too worried about the kinds of things that go wrong when lead starts flying around a crowded room. What if one of the girls stuck in a cage took a stray bullet ’cause she couldn’t hit the floor?”

  She stared down, grinding her hands into her flannel shirt. “There’s been how many roadhouses attacked now? Wayne’s, Hastings, Nash, now Pauline? And nothing at all from Amarillo. Isn’t that a little odd?” Tris rose up on the balls of her feet to get to eye level with him. “Not one damn word about a bounty, or asking for a status update, or putting out a notice to kill Redeemed on sight. Nothing.”

  “That’s not how it’s supposed to work.” He looked anywhere but at her, grumbling. “They… bounty.” He sighed. “Okay. Yeah, that is fucked up.”

  “How do they put out a bounty if they don’t talk to anyone?” She grabbed his cheek and forced him to look her in the eye. “I’m sorry, Kevin. I hate seeing you so twisted up over this. I know how close you were to Wayne, but maybe there’s bigger problems than revenge right now.”

  He hooked his thumbs in his pockets and studied the floor for a good minute. “You’re right. I want you to stay here so you don’t get hurt. I still can’t quite look at you and not see this woman who I’d do anything to keep safe. If we find those bastards, it’ll send a message that might just keep us safe here. Keep the Code alive.”

  She shivered, though between frustration, exasperation, or anger, he couldn’t tell. “What do you love more… that Code of yours or me?”

  “You.” He suppressed the urge to blink in surprise at how easily the answer came out.

  Tris, too, looked stunned. The accusatory glint in her eye vanished in an instant.

  He half-turned away, eyes downcast. “Only reason I give a shit about the Code is it’s what’s keeping you safe here. Without it, we’re sitting damned ducks on the road. If no one cares about repercussions, people are going to try and take whatever they want.”

  She leaned against him. “You said most people aren’t like that.”

  “They’re not.” He kissed her, tongues entwined. Eye contact lingered for a silent few seconds after they pulled apart. “But all it takes is one, and ‘most people’ don’t drive around. The kind of idiots willing to leave the safety of a settlement are more likely the kind of idiots to try an’ take shit by force.”

  “Okay… but, please think it over for a day. You’re pissed off right now and not thinking clearly. If you still want to go hunting after a day, fine… but I’m going to be up all night sitting at the windows crying into my coffee until you come home.”

  He stared at her. It took about twenty seconds before she smiled.

  “Fine. I won’t cry into my coffee until you’re past two weeks.” She grumbled, though it sounded half-playful. “I’m gonna try to get Amarillo on the radio.”

  “Okay.”

  Tris drifted off into the back. Kevin rolled to the left and planted his elbows on the bar, face in his hands. Fitch’s deep laughter rose over the din. Ugh. Both going after Wayne’s killers and not going after them sounded like equally the wrong thing to do. What would Wayne say about this one? He stood with a sigh.

  “Get them sum-bitches.”

  Tris hurried down the hall to the office and flopped in the chair. Bee stood by the worktable counting coins with such speed her right hand appeared to be a clicking blur. He’s gonna get himself killed. She held back the urge to cry―barely―and wound up meditating for a few minutes. He made it twenty-seven years without me… he’s not helpless. She grinned at herself. He thought she was a helpless woman because of her delicate build, and she thought him helpless because he didn’t have any cybernetic enhancements or nanites to repair his body.

  Guess we are perfect for each other. A tiny laugh escaped her along with one tear.

  Guilt didn’t work. Logic also felt like it didn’t work. She couldn’t tell him she didn’t really care all that much about Wayne. The ass was ready to regard her as ‘dropped property’ and claim she belonged to him because her owner had died in his roadhouse. She smirked, thinking back to that ‘waitress’ at Cloud 9 who had to serve tables in shackles because she tried to escape. That wouldn’t have been me. I’d have acted as meek as everyone thinks I looked until I could get a hand on a weapon and then I would’ve killed him myself.

  She grumbled. No guarantee Wayne would have actually treated her like that. Maybe he was all gruff on the outside. Kevin certainly thought so.

  “Ugh. No sense dwelling on that now.” She grabbed the mic. “This is Rawlins. Is there anyone out there from Amarillo?”

  She swished side to side in the old office chair, listening to silence for a few minutes. Bee finished counting and looked over.

  “Can I get you anything?”

  “Nah. I’m okay right now. Thanks, Bee.”

  The android nodded and walked out.

  “Amarillo? Please reply. I don’t care if this is against procedure. Pauline’s place is damn close to you and if Infected are there… We need to know if you still exist.”

  Radio silence, barring the intermittent
pop or snap, persisted for two minutes and eighteen seconds according to the display on the computer monitor. A six-split screen showed views of the building interior. She spent most of the time watching the restaurant. The cam in the hall by the bedrooms picked up a rhythmic feminine squeaking.

  “I do not like ze sound of that,” said Gertrude. “Infected in Amarillo? Das ist sehr schlecht.”

  Tris squeezed the button, mic to her lips. “I don’t want to scare everyone, but we have to be realistic. Infected are drawn to large population centers. There’ve been several roadhouses attacked by the Redeemed these past few weeks, and what response have we seen? Not a damn word. Did you all check your security systems?”

  “Dad got pretty pissed off at the computer last week,” said Mirabel. “He used a bunch of those words you all don’t think I’m old enough to hear.”

  “She ain’t gonna let that go, is she?” asked Clive.

  “Mine’s screwed,” said Mac. “Damn thing doesn’t look like it ever worked.”

  A few indecipherable voices came over at the same time, though it sounded more like grumbles of assent.

  “She’s right. Anything like this happened a year ago, an’ there’d be all sorts of chatter comin’ out of ’Rillo with bounty notices.” Clive went silent, probably cursing off-mic. “This ain’t good.”

  “What are we gonna do if Amarillo’s full of zombies?” asked Jenny.

  “They’re not zombies,” said Tris. “Infected are still biologically alive. They’re as easy to kill as anyone else… easier because they tend to be stupid. They can’t even figure out ladders.”

  “And they strong as shit,” said Mac.

  “Shit isn’t strong,” said Mirabel in a somewhat haughty tone. “It just kinda lays there in a lump, sorta like my brother.”

  “Yo, kid, this is serious. It’s about to get all sorts of fucked up for us,” said Earl. “If Amarillo’s gone dark, it won’t take forever for word ta get out. No Code, and raiders will come swooping right in, tearin’ shit apart. Fuck anything they can catch, kill anything they can’t fuck, and steal anything they can’t fuck or eat.”