The Roadhouse Chronicles Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Cox, Matthew S.

  “Please.” Tris got back to work.

  “Please?” asked Katie, slower.

  “Right.” Tris grumbled. “This is going to pinch a little, okay?”

  Katie nodded.

  The girl emitted a muffled whine as Tris forced the shim in. After a bit of wiggling it back and forth, the cuff popped open. It took another thirty seconds or so to get the other one off. The second it released her, Katie hurled herself on Tris while emitting a loud screeching cry that caused Ben to dive for cover. Kevin grabbed the girl from behind, fearing she’d gone full feral, but the redhead broke into joyous cries for a few seconds before she leapt away and sprinted across the room.

  Katie climbed up onto the counter and ran down the length, her reckless dash punting a few bowls of peanuts to the floor. At the end, she jumped from the counter to a nearby table, knocking it over, and darted, squealing with glee down the rear corridor, her calf-length hair trailing after her like a phantom.

  “Well that’s… different.” Kevin blinked.

  Happy screaming outside grew louder, drawing toward the front door—and right on by. A moment later, her cheering passed around the building a second time.

  “If I’d been stuck like her for a year, I think I’d go a little crazy too at being able to move again. I doubt she’d been trapped like that for all that long though, or she’d be limping.” Tris scowled at the rusty metal. “Change of plans. I want to take a detour to find those bastards.”

  “They’re already dead.” Kevin gave Abby a reassuring squeeze. “At least the kid seems to think Infected got them. I’m guessin’ she calls them ‘sickers.’ You said a bullet would be too good for anyone who’d do that to a kid. Sounds like you got your wish.”

  “Bad scene on the way inta that town,” said Ray. “Looked like an old city hall building. We cut down twenty or so on our way ta this little orange and white U-Haul trailer. They’d rigged it with a pull bar into some kinda wagon. Makes sense now. We found a smashed crate in the back. Couldn’t figure out what kind of beastie they had in it since it looked busted open from the inside. I think she kicked her way out. Sumbitches nailed the lid on too. Good thing the wood was old and brittle.”

  Kevin nodded. “If that wagon was still there, couldn’t have been that long ago.”

  “A few weeks in cuffs would’ve felt like years to her.” Tris shivered.

  “Oy.” Larry nodded. “Figger they nabbed her, an’ saw ’dat buildin’ on the way out, ’cided ta stop in and check it. Lucky fer her.”

  “Found her at this strip mall about two, three miles north of the downtown. Little creek goin’ behind it in a culvert. I can’t imagine how anyone could tolerate livin’ alone for so long, much less a girl her age.” Ray shook his head. “Kid’s tough.”

  Katie raced in and jumped on Tris again, hugged Ray, pounced on Abby, hugged Larry, and zipped off to run two more laps around the room before skidding to a halt on all fours and scarfing up the peanuts that she’d spilled earlier, eating them shell and all.

  Abby made an annoyed face at her dress where the other girl had smeared dirt on her, brushed at it, and sighed. The same woman emerged from the back to talk to Ben. Katie jumped up, wrapped her arms around her, and grinned.

  “Hiiiii,” chirped Katie.

  “At least she’s happy,” said Larry.

  “I kind of expected her to be a little more wary of people.” Ray shrugged.

  Tris put her hands on her hips, watching Katie continue to run around. “You showed her some people are nice. She probably thought everyone would try to grab her again. She’s gone the other way―she wants the opposite of alone.”

  Abby looked from Katie to Kevin. “Isn’t she gonna put the shirt on? She’s not going swimming.”

  “That’s all she’s known.” Kevin patted Abby’s shoulder. “She’s wild.”

  Katie, a little winded after another few minutes of racing around, bounded up to the table and halted standing at Larry’s side. She helped herself to what remained of his fried potatoes, cramming handful after handful in her mouth while breathing hard through her nose.

  Ben walked over with two mason jars full of homemade beer and one with water. He gave the men a ‘please control her’ look before going back to the counter by way of picking up the table she’d knocked over.

  Katie rubbed her bruised wrists and beamed at Tris before hugging Ray again. She reached for one of the beers, but Ray switched it for water. Trails streamed down her front as she tried to drink too fast. Ray pulled down on the end of the jar, slowing her.

  Once she finished, she grinned at everyone. “Thank for kill bad metal. I go home.”

  She started for the door.

  Ray grabbed her arm. “Hey… You can’t go off alone.”

  “Why?” Katie twisted around to face him, tilting her head. “I got home. Food. Warm.”

  “Well, one thing, it’s a three hour ride by car. You ain’t walking that. Two, I ain’t lettin’ no little kid run off on her own, bare-ass, no weapons, no way to protect herself.” He picked up the T-shirt and pulled it down over her head despite her squirming. “You’re too young to be alone. You need someone ta look after you. There a bunch o’ families back in Douglas Grove would take you in, give ya a proper life.”

  Katie picked at the T-shirt, making faces as if trying to decide if she liked the way it felt. Tris gathered the child’s hair and pulled it out of the shirt before letting it cascade free, which made her less fidgety.

  “You’re right,” whispered Tris while glancing at Kevin. “She looks like she has no idea what a shirt even is.”

  “I no have.” Katie pulled at the fabric.

  “What did you do when it got cold?” asked Tris.

  Katie shrugged. “I stay all day bed. Warm. Run fast outside pee or get can food.” She poked at an orange mark on her leg. “Pillows like best. Yellow bits blech, but eat ’cause food. Two cans day make last.”

  “Kid’s got life figured out. Too cold out? Spend all day in bed.” Larry reclined and sipped beer. “That’s the life.”

  “You ate pillows?” asked Tris.

  Now I get it. Kevin chuckled. “Canned ravioli… the orange spots all over her are sauce stains. Ugh. That kid was eating fifty-year-old food. No wonder she’s so damn skinny.”

  “Not that it’s an option, but do you really wanna be alone all the time?” Ray ran his hand over her head. “Don’t you wanna be with people?”

  “I ’lone ’cause scared.” Katie looked around at everyone before grabbing Ray’s hand and pressing it to her cheek. “Y-you want me stay? Real? I can?” Her eyes widened, her lower lip quivered ever so slightly. The genuine disbelief in her expression weighed on Kevin’s heart. “You want me?”

  Tris gave Kevin the ‘if he doesn’t, I will’ look.

  “Now look at that face and tell me you’re gonna give her to some other family.” Larry raised one of the beers to his lips. “Guess you’ll be surprisin’ Tabitha with a daughter.”

  Ray shook his head, smiling. “Guess so.” He nodded at Katie. “Yeah. You welcome ta stay with me an’ my wife if you want.”

  She climbed up to sit in his lap, looking surprised, mouth open, speechless. After a few seconds of staring, she clamped on, cheek pressed to his chest. As if all the fear she’d harbored for however long she’d been alone hit her at once, she trembled.

  “Guess that’s a yes,” said Larry.

  Katie nodded. “I like. So ’lone. Want more talk. Home quiet. Scareds.”

  Abby sniffled and wiped a tear before clinging to Tris.

  A thin teenaged boy with a strong resemblance to Ben carried three bowl-shaped hubcaps full of fried chicken out into the room and paused with a look of confusion.

  Kevin pointed at their table.

  The boy nodded and set the food down.

  “Thanks for the assist.” Ray reached up to Tris.

  With a little bit of guilt on her face, she shook his hand. “You’re welcome.”

 
; Katie grinned. “I not ’lone.”

  Tris’ smile lasted only until she turned away from the girl. Morose, she trudged back to their booth, holding Abby’s hand. Kevin followed. After they slid into the bench seat, he took his spot at the end. The fragrance of fried chicken got him in seconds, and he dug in. Abby nibbled for a bit, but once she got a good taste of it, she proceeded to do an impression of Katie’s ‘I haven’t had real food in years’ mauling.

  Kevin glanced over at Tris after his second drumstick. She still hadn’t touched her food. “What’s wrong? You want to keep her too?” He grinned.

  Tris smirked. “No. She looks happy with Ray.” She sighed. “I almost just killed two decent men. As soon as I saw her, I assumed the worst and wanted to shoot them.”

  “Most people would’ve reacted the same way to seeing a pair of rough-looking dudes with a chained kid…” He picked up a breast, fighting the urge to jam it in his mouth. “Though you did kinda skip over the pointing the gun at them and demanding they let her go part.”

  “I’m so wound up.” She leaned her elbows on the table and held her face in both hands. “All I can think about is how I’m supposed to do something about the Enclave, and this cryptic shit from Terminal9 isn’t helping.”

  Kevin took a few bites to think over his response. She probably didn’t want to hear him repeat that she had no way to stop the Virus, and failing wasn’t her fault. He’d been around and around with her, questioning how the two of them could manage any kind of threat to the Enclave… hovercraft, high-tech weapons and all.

  “I almost killed them right in front of her and… shit.” Tris leaned back and raked her fingers up through her hair. “How long did it take her to trust people enough to ask for help, and I would’ve sent her crawling right back into some dark hiding place.”

  “Please stop feeling guilty about something you didn’t even do.” Kevin took another bite. “Nwfm eam yrr fmm.” He swallowed. “Eat your chicken before it gets cold. This is really good.”

  Hamster-cheeked Abby nodded with an enthusiastic, “Mmm!”

  Tris picked up a drumstick. “What’s wrong with me?”

  “Nothing.” He reached over Abby’s head to pat Tris on the back. “If people had to answer for everything they thought about doing but didn’t do, we’d be in a lot of trouble.”

  Tris forced a weak smile. A nibble became a larger nibble, progressing to a chomp.

  Chicken wins. Kevin gnawed on the small winglet, debating a little gluttony and a second basket.

  “You’re right,” mumbled Tris. She stared across the room at Katie curled up in Ray’s lap.

  “Yeah, this chicken is damn good. I might get more.” Kevin patted his stomach.

  Abby offered him her thigh piece. “I’m full.”

  “Save it for the morning. I can’t take food out of your mouth.” He winked.

  “No, not about the chicken.” Tris indicated the men with a faint nod. “Not everyone out here is a piece of shit.”

  He raised both eyebrows. “Still nice to see proof every now and then.”

  Tris shook her head. “That kid’s spent most of her life on high alert. Look at her, passed out in his lap. How long has it been for her since she’d been able to really sleep? Feeling safe?”

  Abby cuddled up to Tris. “Thank you for taking me in. I know you didn’t have to. You believed me the whole time. You wouldn’t let them hurt me.”

  “That’s it.” Tris sighed. “Warren. That’s why I was so ready to end those two. If I hadn’t hesitated on him, then your father―”

  Abby squeezed Tris’ arm. “You’re not like him. You can’t kill someone without a good reason. It’s okay. I understand.”

  Tris wrapped her arms around Abby and sniffled into her hair.

  Kevin patted the table twice and stood. “Gonna get a room key… and more chicken.”

  4

  Scars

  Random vistas of sunsets played out across Kevin’s dream, rich orange and blue swirling over the tip of an endless road. The flash of white paint down the center stuttered; individual dashed lines floated away from the paving and swarmed around the car like curious herons, diving and circling.

  He reached up to rub his eyes. When he pulled his fingers away, he found the bizarre vision gone, though the cactuses outside had gone bright pink. Mountains approached; the road swerved to the right before plunging into a tunnel. The instant darkness surrounded him, he went from driving 140 mph to standing on his feet without a car around him.

  “Hello?”

  His dream voice echoed back to him with a metallic quality, as if he stood inside a giant, empty boiler. Hands raised, he crept forward until he found a wall, and felt around. Soon, he located a door and slid his hand down to the knob. It opened into a hallway with dingy white and green-checkered linoleum. To his right, a pair of doors led to bathrooms, each bearing a basic stick-figure label, one plain and one with a triangle skirt.

  He crept down the hall, fragments of glass crunching under his boots, and entered a roadhouse-esque space with tables, chairs, and a counter―only the colors had gone crazy. Red and green on the floor, purple chair cushions, orange counter and tabletops. Wayne, in a duster coat and three bleeding bullet holes in his face, waved from behind the counter.

  That’s not right. They shot him in the chest.

  A man in jeans and cowboy boots with a blurry mass for an upper body raised a mason jar in greeting, his face lost to an unformed memory.

  Dad?

  “What’cha havin’?” asked not-Wayne. “Usual?”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to rub sense into his head. “Ugh. What the hell was in that chicken?”

  When he opened his eyes again, Not-Wayne and the blurry apparition had vanished. The room retained its strange coloration, but he couldn’t place it as any roadhouse he’d ever been to.

  “Help… me,” whispered a female voice.

  Kevin whirled around.

  A young, pretty, Hispanic girl in a slinky black dress stared at him. Her… She could’ve been anywhere from fifteen to twenty. Infected. Turning. At the cusp of sanity. The girl raised a slender arm holding a tiny silver pistol. A trail of dark blood ran out of her right nostril, dribbling over her lip.

  “You can’t kill me, can you?” asked the girl. “I’m still human. I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t stop.”

  He took a step back. “I’m dreaming…”

  “Help me.” The girl cringed and grabbed her right arm with her left hand, fighting with herself not to point the gun at him. “Run… I’m dying.”

  She took another step toward him, opening her mouth.

  As soon as he whirled around to flee, the psychedelic roadhouse changed to desert scrubland aglow in strong moonlight. All of his clothes had vanished, as had his adulthood. Cold dirt underfoot startled a gasp out of him and made him look down at his younger self. Ten years old and scrawny… the same nightmare he’d had as a boy. As long has he could remember, he’d slept naked. Someone told him he could get sick spending the night in the same clothes he wore all day long, and he didn’t have anything else… so he’d worn blankets to bed.

  When a pile of Infected broke down the wall of his trailer, his brain couldn’t process anything but get out. He didn’t have to look; he knew a horde of Infected closed in on him from behind, everyone from the little trailer cluster he’d called home back then. One tended to forget trivial things like getting dressed before fleeing from their worst nightmare.

  Despite not wanting to, he glanced over his shoulder.

  Eva and Hemi, his ‘parents,’ led the pack of moaning half-alive people.

  The sight didn’t hold quite the same shock it had to his younger mind, but the uncountable army of Infected behind them tweaked his phobia to irrational panic. Screaming, he took off. Every time he had this dream, it ended the same way. No matter how much faster he could run than the slow-stumbling Infected, they’d always be right behind him whenever he l
ooked back. In the nightmare, he’d run through the waist-high grass until he collapsed, always waking up screaming as hands grabbed him.

  As it played out every time, it played out that night. Kevin’s child self eventually ran out of steam and collapsed, surrounded by grabbing hands and sharp fingernails tearing at his skin.

  Kevin snapped awake, covered in sweat, but silent. He held as still as he could manage, arms straight at his sides, staring at the ceiling. Reality crawled back into his brain fact by fact. Roadhouse. Rented room. Omaha. No longer a little boy. Since they’d gotten one room and Abby shared the bed with them, he’d kept his boxers on, Tris, her shirt. Abby lay between them, in the sweatshirt-turned-nightdress she’d brought along. The girl flinched in her sleep, every so often emitting distressed whimpers.

  Her bad dream is leaking into my head. He rubbed his face. I haven’t had one like that in years.

  The girl squirmed side to side and stretched her legs as if cringing away from something held to her face.

  Kevin yawned. Tris had an arm over Abby like a giant child clinging to a doll. Kevin lay in silence for a few minutes, tired but unable to fall asleep. He had no real way to know for sure that Infected wouldn’t stumble across this place. As unlikely as it would be for them to wander out into the no-man’s land along Interstate 80, it could still happen. Hell, one had shown up at his roadhouse in Rawlins. Talk about middle of nowhere.

  He closed his eyes and tried to focus all his thoughts on Tris. It had been easier to sleep in Nederland. He’d never admit it out loud, but that giant dump truck gate, the wall, and the militia did make him feel safer. More so than even the Code had. Fifty or so real people willing to defend their homes reassured him more than a phantom army of thousands who’d supposedly have avenged him after the fact.

  Abby convulsed and sat up, sucking in air as if to let out a long scream. He put a hand on her back. She turned toward him, not fully awake.

  “Dad!” she wailed, and clamped on before bursting into tears.

  “Hey… hey…” He rocked her a little, patting her on the back while she trembled and sobbed. “You’re okay.”