Tris stared at Kevin, a small bite of her lower lip the only break to the calm on her face.
“Sounds good. So how’s this work? Do we buy it from the town or what?”
“There’s a fee, but we usually waive it as we tend to take in people who don’t have much but the clothes on their backs.”
“How much?”
Bill cringed. “Oh, this place? About 3500 coins.”
“What’s the town use money for anyway?” Tris blinked.
“Mostly trading with outsiders. Buying ammunition from Ween too.” Bill scratched his head. “Couple times we buy and trade with other settlements.”
She nodded.
Kevin faked a wince. “It’ll be tough, but I think we can swing that.”
Tris rolled her eyes out of Bill’s sight, and shot him a playful smirk.
37
Reboot
Tris leaned up and away from Bee’s chassis, coughing from the foul-smelling smoke that peeled up from hot wires. Someone worked at a machine on the other end of the workshop that kept making this high-pitched screeching while throwing plumes of orange sparks. Each time it went off, the noise crawled deeper and deeper into her skull. Being that the Nederland workshop occupied a giant metal-walled warehouse building, sound traveled.
“Ugh.” She rubbed her forehead, trying command the nanites to eat her headache. Not that they’d ever been able to do so, or even listened to her conscious control. “Come on, Bee.”
She’d been tinkering with the android for most of the morning after her meeting with a rather fastidious fifty-ish woman named Crystal who was apparently in charge of managing Nederland’s ‘technical people.’ Since the basic education Tris had received far outstripped what most in the Wildlands could even comprehend, the town council asked her to help out there. Which, of course, was fine with her. On some level, she missed her old roof full of solar panels, but Kevin did have a point. That place sat out in the middle of nowhere, and if anything bad came calling, they’d be on their own.
Thoughts like that didn’t make for restful sleep.
After a bathroom break and a refill of water, she returned to the workbench and dove into Bee’s innards again. To get her up and mobile again would require parts they didn’t have here, parts she’d only seen in one place… the airport outside Omaha. Kevin felt about Bee much the same as she did, so he’d probably be willing to take the ride if it offered a chance at salvaging the android. The bigger question being whether or not her memory core/personality matrix survived. Her efforts thus far focused on repairing the link between the power cell, which still appeared to be good, and the logic boards in her head.
“Good thing that idiot didn’t shoot you in the face.”
She soldered two more connections in the chest cavity and leapt back from a spark that hit her fingertip like a wasp sting. Something whirred to life deep inside Bee’s chest, and a bee-oop sound played from the speaker inside her mouth, reminiscent of an old PC hard-boot beep.
“Yes. I am glad,” said Bee. “My AI unit does not have a backup module installed. A projectile entering my head would have erased me.”
“Bee!” Tris squealed. “You’re okay!”
“I am not detecting a connection to arms, legs, or hip actuators. I am unable to move. Tris, I do not consider my current status to be… ‘okay.’” Bee blinked with a click.
“Sorry. Your capacitor blew out. I spent most of the morning cleaning lithium cobalt oxide off your guts. I’m completely stunned you didn’t explode or catch fire.”
“I am grateful you are repairing me. Most would not have bothered.”
“You’re like family. I’m sorry, but I can’t fix you all the way without parts that’ll take a long drive to get.” She leaned closer and whispered, “Don’t tell him I told you, but Kevin was pretty upset finding you injured.”
“I understand. It is good to be awake again. How much time. What day is it?”
Tris thought. “Uhm. 2073…” She faced the warehouse floor. “Hey, anyone know what day it is?”
Two men yelled “Thursday.”
“June, right?”
One of them nodded. “Twenty-second.”
“Tris.” Bee rotated her head to stare upward.
“Hmm?”
“Now that my operating system has completely loaded, I have performed a memory sweep and found orphaned sectors. Reallocating those sectors has allowed me to reclaim an event I was previously unable to.”
“I think I follow you…” Tris smiled.
“I forgot to tell you something. I just remembered.” Bee blinked with a click. Her voice shifted pitch at random with each word, making her sound more robotic than usual. “While you and Kevin were away, a transmission came in via the radio. A man who indicated his name as Terminal9 wished me to tell you the following:”―from the android’s mouth played a familiar nasal male voice framed in static crackles, as though she’d recorded the radio output―“Tris. There’s more to The Cure than I thought. We need to talk.”
Holy shit. Tris bent forward, hugging the prone Bee. “You’re amazing!”
“I am paralyzed.”
Tris looked left and right like a lost cat. “I… need to find Kevin.”
Unable to do any more for Bee without parts, Tris scooped her up and ran out, earning several odd looks at the sight of her carrying such a load with ease.
38
And Miles to Go
The idea that he’d be kneeling in mossy mud while working on water pumps feeding an enormous network of pipes going into a greenhouse would never have come up in Kevin’s imagination at any point over the last ten years. It didn’t involve cars, bullets, high speed, explosions, armor, or earning coins. Yet, as he knelt in the squidgy bog fighting with an old diesel engine, he smiled.
This isn’t so bad.
Two hours in, the problem became apparent: too much gunk. They’d been feeding it biodiesel, and from the looks of things, a crappy mixture that gummed everything up to heck and back. Of all the things that could’ve been wrong with it, breaking it down to clean it was low on the list of bad, but high on the list of tedious. A few hours after he’d started, he’d gotten it mostly back together when Tris came running around the corner of the greenhouse. She looked excited rather than angry or scared, so he kept on reassembling the engine as she zoomed up beside him.
“Kevin…” She gasped for breath. “I…”
“Slow down. Breathe.” He set a series of bolts in place to hold down the cylinder head, and got to work ratcheting them down one after the next.
“Bee’s awake.”
“Awesome. Kinda feels like someone killed my favorite dog and you brought her back to life.” He grinned. Damn that stupid machine… “How’s she feel―uhh, doing?”
“I don’t know if she’d think of being compared to a dog as good or bad.”
He looked up at her. “If I had a dog, I’d be pretty damn upset if someone killed it.”
Her face brightened. “She had a message! She’s awake, but she can’t move. I can’t fix her without parts… remember that guy on the airplane?”
“Terminator or whatever?”
“Terminal9.” Tris nodded. “He sent us a message over the Roadhouse radio.”
“How the hell would he do that?” Kevin glared at the engine in front of him.
She swatted him on the head. “He’s a hacker… he hacks. He said ‘There’s more to the Cure than he thought,’ and he wants to talk to us.”
“Maybe he found a bonus track.”
“What?”
“You know, an extra song on the disc that’s not on the label.”
She growled. “Stop making jokes. This is serious! What if it is the cure?”
“It was The Cure. A band.” He stopped ratcheting the socket and gave her that same patronizing/sympathetic stare that usually got her ready to either cry or hit him.
“I know that.” She crossed her arms. “There’s a hidden message. He didn’t want
to say anything in case they’re monitoring the radio channel.”
“I doubt it. Nathan wouldn’t let anything useful out.”
She put a hand on his shoulder. “What if Nathan didn’t know?”
“How could he not?”
Tris stared into his eyes. “You said that Snow told you not everyone in the Enclave is a monster. What if there is some resistance left? All I’m asking is for a trip to the airport. Besides, I need parts for Bee anyway. It’s not like we need to run right out now… but…”
“Tell me you’re not happy here. This is safe.”
She stared at the engine for a while, long enough for him to resume tightening bolts. “You want to get revenge for Wayne’s death? Blame the Enclave. It’s all Nathan’s doing.”
The socket wrench stopped. “That’s a little below the belt. I’ve come to terms with it.”
Tris squatted at his side and put her arm around him. “I am happy here. I am happy with you… but they’re going to keep poisoning people and… Okay, I won’t get ahead of myself. It could be something stupid. It could be nothing at all but another slap in the face from Nathan, but I don’t think Terminal9 would’ve told me I had to see it if that was true. Even if it’s nothing, we still need to get parts for Bee.”
Kevin tossed the wrench and caught it twice. He glanced up at her, past her wavering snow-white hair to the vast sky spotted with puffs of cotton, and back into her gem-blue eyes. Behind every dead man is a woman with an irresistible stare and a good cause. “Yeah… I suppose someone really ought’a try and doing something about that damn virus.”
fin
1
The Message
Unease kept the dust hopper stew bubbling in Kevin’s gut. He put a hand over his belly and leaned back in his seat. Tris, seated opposite him across their new kitchen table, faded to a near-silhouette in the early evening sun beaming in the sliding glass patio doors behind her. Every few seconds, a flash of orange reflected from Abby’s spoon. The girl sat with her back to the wall along the left side of the table, hunched over the bowl, stirring at her dinner, most of her face hidden behind a long curtain of straight, light-brown hair.
She wore a dress one of the locals made for her from a mixture of goat wool and hide. Abby especially loved her fur-lined moccasins, though didn’t bother wearing them inside the house unless it got cold. Kevin glanced from her to Tris and tried to distract himself from his worry by knowing she had nothing on under her T-shirt with the dark navy sleeves and white middle. Whatever logo had been over the breasts had faded long ago, probably before she’d been born.
Abby raised her head enough to give him a hint of a smile and a pleading look before going back to stirring.
“I spoke to Crystal,” said Tris. “She’s okay with me being away for a couple of days. Seemed eager to have Bee up and around again. Cassie too… she can’t wait to see a working android.”
Kevin chuckled. “You have to request time off? Sounds like a prewar job.”
Abby glanced toward Tris, who stared guilt into her food.
“We’re not going to be gone that long,” muttered Tris. “We’ve been there before, and it’s not too dangerous.”
“Almost a straight shot.” Kevin glanced at the ceiling while envisioning the map. “Route 76 to 80, and pretty much 80 all the way to Eppley.”
“If it’s safe, take me with you.” Abby raised her head and pulled her hair off her face. “Please?”
The last thing I need is for something to happen to her. Kevin sighed. “I dunno. Leaving the safety of Ned with a little kid seems like a foolish gamble.”
Abby furrowed her brows, but the rest of her face remained plaintive. “She just said it wasn’t dangerous… and I’m not little. I’m eleven.”
“Nederland is safe, but it’s not impervious.” Tris let go of her spoon to rub her eyes. “I… I’d almost feel better bringing her along too, so I wouldn’t keep worrying about her.”
Abby shot Tris a quick smile before giving Kevin her most wide-eyed, imploring stare.
“It’s not that I want to be away from you. I don’t want you to get hurt.” Kevin picked up his empty water glass and tried to drink from it for the third time. He held it out and frowned. “How’s your friend Isla adjusting to Ned?”
“She likes it here.” Abby gazed down. “But she’s still scared at night.”
Kevin leaned forward and gave Abby’s shoulder a squeeze. “I think we all are.”
Abby shot him a hard look; for a second, he almost regretted trying to ‘play dad,’ but her expression softened and she grasped his hand where it rested on her. He smiled until she let her arms drop in her lap and bowed her head. When the silence became pregnant, he stood. Two steps after he started to the patio doors, he swerved to the sink and held his glass under the faucet.
Still not used to working plumbing. Nederland had managed to get reasonably close to a prewar state. Perhaps due to its small size and relative lack of damage. No one saw fit to drop a warhead on a tiny little mountain town. Small wells and isolated septic systems didn’t fall victim to the large-scale infrastructure collapse that devastated most of the country. Here, he could fantasize that the war had never happened. Almost.
Bill found his story of all the solar panels sitting around at Amarillo fascinating, and the town elders had spent days discussing an expedition, one they would likely ask Tris to lead. Despite the possibility of a couple hundred Infected in the area, it almost tempted him. Of course, he wouldn’t bring Abby back there… too many bad memories. Nor did he much feel like leaving her here with her knowing where they went.
The town elders hadn’t made up their mind yet either way. More panels would make expansion smoother, but they still had Boulder and Denver to scavenge from. Decent odds at least three-quarters of the homes in Boulder had solar panels that still worked. Most proper cities still had much to salvage… for anyone with big enough balls to risk concentrated groups of Infected.
Tris sidled up next to him and put an arm around his lower back while he refilled his water. She opened her mouth to speak, but paused, glancing through the window over the sink at Emma walking by outside. A thirteen-year-old in a tank top, camo shorts, barefoot, and carrying an AK-47 around did wonders to break the illusion the world hadn’t been fucked.
Kevin tried not to think about little Zoe diving into a firefight against a raiding party. All of nine years old and she seemed to enjoy defending the town from bandit raids or Infected like some manner of game. Kids her age should be hiding whenever shit like that happened. He glanced back at Abby still picking at her food.
At least she’s got no interest in guns.
“Hey,” said Tris, a touch over a whisper.
He shut off the faucet. “Hey.”
She waited for him to finish taking a long drink. “Abby’s lost her father, and she’s terrified about losing us.”
He leaned on the counter, head down. “I know… I know. I’m just… after everything she’s been through, I want her to be safe. We’ve got no idea what things are like out there with Amarillo out of the picture.”
Tris put a hand on his arm and squeezed. “Nowhere’s safe with Nathan after me. I… I’d rather keep her close.”
He took another long sip and set the glass on the counter, but didn’t let go of it. “Well…” He smiled. “Guess that’s two votes for. I suppose we bring her.”
“I promise I won’t get in the way,” said Abby.
“You’re going to tell me she should carry a weapon next.” Kevin gave Tris the side-eye.
“Do I have to?” asked Abby. “I don’t wanna get shot. They won’t shoot me if I’m not a threat.”
“Some people will,” said Tris. “And the kind of people who’d attack us and not be inclined to shoot you too will umm…” She bit her lip. “You’d rather be shot.”
“Most raiders don’t have time to bother with kids.” Kevin folded his arms. “They left me alone.”
Tris poked him in
the stomach. “You were only four… and a boy. It’s not the same.”
He grasped her shoulders, held eye contact for a few seconds, and pulled her into a hug. “When did you get so cynical? I thought you saw the best in people until they showed otherwise.”
“Easier to be an optimist when you don’t have a child depending on you to keep them safe.” She stared into his eyes, the worry another drone would find Nederland plain on her face.
“Okay. We shouldn’t hit anything too dangerous… Route 80’s travelled enough to be reasonably safe.” He let off a sigh of resignation. “I suppose she should carry a Sig or something just in case.”
“Do I have to?” asked Abby. “I don’t want it to, like, go off on accident or anything.”
Kevin’s thoughts leapt back to the family with the semi-truck; the twins weren’t much older than Abby. He liked to think they lacked killer instinct at their age; at least they didn’t open fire on Bull with the rest of their family. Abby hadn’t recovered from the events of Amarillo, perhaps she never would. Giving her a loaded handgun felt like a bad idea in more ways than one. He thought about his nightmare, running over grassy fields away from Infected, and scowled at the sink.
“We won’t force you to,” said Tris. “But it wouldn’t hurt to learn how to handle a weapon. Even in a place like Nederland, you can wind up needing to protect yourself.”
“Okay.” Abby lifted a spoonful of stew to eat, but hesitated. “Isn’t that what the militia is for?” She stuck the spoon in her mouth and took her time chewing, sitting in silence for a while after.
“You’re a little young yet, but a town like this… everyone protects everyone.” Kevin grumbled off to the side for a few seconds before looking at her again. “We’re not saying you need to pull a Zoe. She’s going to get herself hurt or killed.”
“If I had a gun, would my father still be alive?” asked Abby, not looking up.
The Roadhouse Chronicles Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 86
