Abby quieted. After a while of laying still and silent, she sniffed in a wet-sounding breath. She lifted her head, looked at him, and let her face thud into his chest. Again, she broke down crying, but these sobs sounded borne of grief rather than fear.
“It’s okay.” He rubbed her back. “You’re safe.”
“Sorry I called you Dad.” She sniffled. “He’s dead.”
“Oh, I don’t think he’d mind. You’d just had a bad dream and weren’t all the way awake.”
She lay still, sniffling occasionally.
“I’m scared of those things too.” He shifted to get more comfortable and closed his eyes. “Ever since I was your age. Still have nightmares.”
“But you’re like… old.”
“Thanks.” He poked her in the side, causing her to squirm and grin. “Tris told me a bit about what happened. You’re a lot tougher than me. I didn’t go through half of what you did and I have wicked dreams too.”
“I dream I’m back there,” whispered Abby. “Tied to a bed and everyone’s Infected… and I can’t get away. I try to stay quiet but they still find me… and it’s Warren after Tris shot him… Infected.”
Kevin kept patting her back. “It’s just a dream. You’ll never see that bastard again.”
“I know. Tell that to my dreams.” Abby shifted over, laying against him. “What’s your nightmare like?”
“I’m back home as a kid. Used to live in this old trailer park. We’d gone on this long trip to move, and a couple of the people with us wound up getting infected along the way. Two older boys, think they were seventeen or eighteen, knew they got it. They buried the other dead and walked away to end it before they turned.”
“You dream that?” whispered Abby.
“No… The nightmare I have never really happened. I used to dream that everyone but me in our little town got Infected. They break down the wall of my old bedroom and chase me across the field. Brown tall grass up past my waist. I run and run but I can’t get away from them.”
Abby almost shivered. “Mmm.”
At least I can bore her to sleep. He smiled.
An ear-piercing scream dragged Kevin out of bed. He made it to the hallway outside their rented room—one eye open, .45 in hand, boxers clinging to his hips—before his brain caught up to consciousness. Abby backed away from a flaking green door with black spray painted letters spelling, ‘shit here.’
“Huh?” He croaked.
Abby, hands flailing, whirled around and pounced on him, burying her face in his chest and whimpering. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to sob hysterically or throw up.
Kevin stood taller on the balls of his feet, peering into a small bathroom covered in black stains. A dense cloud of flies swarmed around the back corner, clinging to the wall and ceiling in a carpet of moving black spots. A severed human head, rotted enough to expose skull, sat in the toilet amid a massive bloom of silvery-black mold. He cringed and pushed the door closed with the tip of the .45.
“What the fuck is wrong with that guy?” Kevin stared down the short hallway toward the main room. The wall to his right blocked his view of the counter.
Kevin stood there a moment, comforting Abby. When she calmed enough to release her death grip around his chest, he edged to the end of the corridor and stared at Ben. “Dude…” He pointed the .45 at the hallway. “The fuck?”
“Something wrong?” asked Ben.
“You’ve got a goddamned rotting head in your toilet.” He blinked.
Abby coughed, sounding a hair’s breadth away from vomiting.
“Yeah. Had a… umm… raider issue last month.” Ben fidgeted. “Wife won’t touch it. Kids won’t touch it. I don’t wanna touch it.”
Kevin blinked. “So you just leave it there?”
Ben gestured at the back. “There’s an outhouse. No one used the damn toilet inside anyway… not like plumbin’ works.”
“Unbelievable,” muttered Kevin.
It occurred to him at that second that Tris hadn’t been in bed. “Where’s Tris?”
Abby shrugged. “She was gone when I woke up. Will you go with me to the outhouse? I don’t wanna be alone.”
“Yeah. Lemme get dressed.”
“Not like in the outhouse,” whispered Abby. “You can wait outside.”
“That’s what I figured you meant.”
“Hey! Get out of there!” yelled a woman in the back.
Soft thuds shook the floor in the gait of a small person running. Seconds later, Katie, naked again, sprinted out of the kitchen area, her face and hands smeared with beige-brown sauce, which had also dribbled all over her chest. Flour dusted her face and most of her legs. She bee-lined for Kevin and hugged him.
“Hiii!” Her breath carried a spicy fragrance that reminded him of the fried chicken.
A woman, likely Ben’s wife, appeared in the doorway, glaring. She appeared to think better of chasing the girl and proceeded to berate Ben as if it was somehow his fault the girl had raided their pantry.
Kevin patted her on the head. “Good morning. What did you do?”
Katie let go and took a step back. “Day food.” She wrapped her arms around Abby, who stood ramrod straight. “Hiii!”
“Hello,” said Abby.
Kevin took Katie by the hand and led her back into the hallway to Ray’s room, obvious due to the open door and loud snoring. She darted in and pounced on the bed. Kevin pulled the door closed and returned to their room, tossing the gun on the bed. After wiping chicken batter off himself, he pulled on his white T-shirt, jeans, boots, and gun belt. Abby waited in the doorway squirming and bouncing, an urgent grimace on her face. He snagged his armored jacket and headed out the back door, Abby close at his heels.
The space out back echoed with a multitude of clucking from the right, where a large fenced-in area held close to a hundred chickens. Beyond that, a few small farm plots contained corn, potatoes, and a bunch of other green stuff he couldn’t quite identify from the distance. Twenty paces or so behind the roadhouse, a lime green porta-potty perched on a cinderblock foundation. Considering the air didn’t peel the skin off his face, he figured Ben had removed the tank and dug a hole under it.
Kevin pulled the door open and a bit of cold metal pressed into his forehead. It took him a second to realize Tris, seated inside, had put her Beretta to his skull.
“Shit.” She lowered it. “Knock first!”
He held up a finger, waited for his heart to resume beating, and slammed a fist into his chest twice. “Right. Sorry.”
Tris pulled the door shut with a plastic rattle. Abby whined and sent a look of serious consideration at the grass to the right of the outhouse. She decided against it and remained at his side, bouncing on the balls of her feet for a minute and change until Tris emerged. Abby scrambled in.
“Eww.” Her voice echoed. “It’s gross in here.”
Kevin stood with his back to the outhouse, staring off at the countryside. Tris leaned on him. A moment later, Katie wandered out the back door, waved at them with a big grin, squatted, and proceeded to water the grass not quite five steps away from the door.
“This is so nasty,” said Abby, her voice muted by the fiberglass outhouse. “I think I’d rather go outside.”
Kevin chuckled. “Your choice. Apparently, that’s an option here.”
The fiberglass structure wobbled; Abby made uneasy noises. Ray walked out, saw Katie, and slapped himself in the forehead. He hurried over and they had a quick murmured conversation before he stared exasperation into the clouds. The girl darted inside, and Ray approached the converted port-a-potty.
“Take a number,” said Kevin.
Ray shook his head, waving his hand in a gesture toward where Katie had been. “Ugh, sorry about that.”
“Looks like you’ve got some work ahead of you.” Kevin scratched his cheek. “She doesn’t seem too feral though. At least she went outside first. Last feral kid I saw, he didn’t care inside or outside at first.”
&
nbsp; “She said someone was in the shitter and didn’t wanna wait. Used ta just use the crick behind that store she’d holed up in.” He laughed. “Little thing’s ravenous. She ate six coins’ worth of damage in their cabinet. The owner’s wife found her sitting on the floor in the kitchen stuffing her face.”
“Kid’s been eating fifty-year-old canned food for somewhere ’tween two and three years.” Kevin shook his head. “That’d almost make anything taste like the best meal in the world.”
“Chicken here is pretty damn good. Too expensive though.” Ray spat to the side. “Five damn coins for one portion.”
Kevin smiled. “He’s only got so many chickens. Guess he doesn’t wanna use ’em up faster than they breed.”
Abby pushed the door open, looking nauseated.
“Is it safe in there?” asked Ray.
She rolled her eyes. “There’s no dead person in the seat.”
Katie came around the far corner of the roadhouse at a full sprint, squealing with delight. She ran past the rear porch and ducked into the alley between it and the next building, which appeared to be a dead laundromat. Curiosity got the better of her and she started to climb in through a window.
“Katie!” bellowed Ray. “Don’t go in there. It could be dangerous. Come on over here.”
She jumped down, looking frightened, and ran over. From her expression, she expected him to abandon her if she did the slightest thing wrong.
“It’s okay. I ain’t angry. I don’t want you to get hurt.” He took her hand. “’Mon, let’s go in.”
Kevin stepped into the outhouse. True enough, Ben had used the fiberglass box as a shortcut for building a shack and bench. A rough-cut hole in the bottom let out into a relatively deep pit. He couldn’t help himself but peer down in case another corpse lurked below. That Ben guy seems a bit… off. On second thought, maybe it’s good I was up all night.
With a yawn, he put himself away and opened the door. Abby seemed nervously tolerant of Ray, but gabbed Kevin’s arm as soon as he stepped close enough. Katie zoomed by again waving and cheering, passing a few feet in front of them as he approached the porch. Ray set off, chasing her at a deliberate walk, the army T-shirt in his hand. He gave Kevin a defeated look, but laughed.
Kevin smiled, and headed inside with Abby in tow.
Tris had a table already, with three piles of scrambled eggs and a passable attempt at making sausage patties from dust hopper meat. A few minutes after they settled in to eat, Ray entered carrying Katie, now in her shirt/dress.
“What’s wrong with me?” Tris whispered.
Kevin glanced at her.
“I was this close to just killing those two guys… and they’re normal people.” She braced her head in her hand. “I… I’m on edge. I… can’t stop thinking about the Virus and curing it and getting to―”
Kevin pulled her into a one-armed hug. “Any decent person seeing a guy dressed like a raider with what looked like a captive child would’ve reached for a gun too. Somethin’ my dad woulda done.”
Tris frowned. “No one seemed to care when those shitheads carried me into Wayne’s.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I did.”
“Reluctantly.” She managed a weak smile.
“I didn’t want to get blood on my food.” He winked, leaning closer.
Abby grumbled. “You guys are crushing me.”
Kevin sat up, as did Tris.
“Sorry for getting in the way,” muttered Abby.
“What?” asked Tris.
Abby shrugged. “You guys couldn’t ‘do it’ last night with me in the bed.”
Tris blushed.
Kevin laughed. “We don’t do that every waking minute.”
“You want to.” Abby smiled at him. “You guys are so into each other… it’s nice.” Her gaze shifted to her food, lingered for a moment, and fell into her lap. “I wonder if my parents were like that.”
Tris put an arm around her. “I hope they were, and they’re together now.”
Kevin cocked his jaw sideways and looked away. He didn’t have much room for talk of afterlives or ghosts or some far-off, all-powerful, supposedly benevolent invisible man in the clouds. He’d seen enough in his travels to know that before the war, a lot of people believed in ‘religion,’ but all it ever seemed to do was cause conflict. How fucked up is that? People killing each other over who’s got the more peaceful belief system. If in fact some kind of entity did exist out there, to let the world burn itself, he, she, or it had to be either oblivious, careless, or sadistic.
Naw. It’s probably like the Great Horned Dust Hopper.
Some settlements got their kids to behave by claiming a giant magical dust hopper would come by and give the good children decorated eggs in the middle of the night. Of course he’d hide them, as simply handing them over would be too easy. That whole religion thing before the war had to be a version of that. Something to make adults behave. The other option, that some manner of higher power did exist―and turned a blind eye to humanity nuking itself―seemed worse.
He sighed at the earnest face Abby made at the ceiling. What if some bits of it happened to be true? Could his dad be a ghost? Is that why he kept winding up doing stupid things that could get him killed? He hadn’t been too worried about Ray and Larry. They didn’t carry themselves like slavers, and Katie hadn’t acted at all frightened of them. He’d seen slaves before, and nothing in the child’s demeanor had put him on edge.
Besides, what kind of slavers would drag a new catch to a roadhouse for lunch? Tris had been on edge lately. Hopefully, he could get her to Omaha before she did something she’d regret. Ever since she’d suggested Nathan might drop Virus on Ned, he hadn’t managed a full night’s sleep. The nightmare had come back in force. Usually, it played out as it always had: back home, sixteen years ago or thereabouts when he’d been eleven. Sometimes, the Infected chasing him turned into Bill, Ann, other people from Ned. Once, he’d even seen little Zoe crawling after him with her mouth wide open.
His throat tightened and he rubbed his eyes. He barely managed to kill that one young woman… his hesitance got Neeley shot. If he ever saw an Infected kid, he’d be fucked if he couldn’t run away—he’d never be able to shoot at a child, even one who’d caught The Virus.
“You alright?” asked Tris.
“Yeah…” He let his arm fall to the table. “My turn to have crappy depressing thoughts.”
Katie’s voice pierced the silence, practicing words with Ray and Larry. She picked things up fast, making him think she couldn’t have gone too long without human contact.
“Wanna talk about it?” asked Tris.
He glanced down at Abby. “Just bad dreams. Infected.” He exhaled. “Infected I couldn’t bring myself to shoot.”
Abby gasped. “I’m not sick.”
“No, had a nightmare… Zoe…”
Tris put her hand on his shoulder. “We―”
“Have to stop them, yes. I know. I agree, but I don’t see how we’re going to do that.”
She grumbled. “There might be something important hidden in that data. Maybe Nathan found out about a hidden message? That’s why he kept trying to kill me?”
Kevin shoved eggs and ground dust hopper in his mouth. “Maybe.”
Katie appeared out of nowhere, ambush-hugging Tris from behind over the bench seat. “Hiii!”
Tris laughed. The child crawled over Abby, hugged Kevin, and ran back to the table with Ray and Larry. She’d gotten so much dust on her shirt/dress she left a trail in the air.
“She’s going to run up to the wrong person… Hope that town of theirs is safe,” said Tris.
“Ned’s not the only ‘nice’ settlement. There’s quite a few actually.” Kevin coughed at a surprise jalapeno in the egg. “Besides, kids like her can just tell when someone ain’t right.”
Tris stabbed a bit of sausage on her fork. “I hope that’s true.”
Abby whispered, “I never liked Warren, an’ I trusted you
right away.”
“See,” said Kevin, winking.
She stared at Abby for a while before looking down. “Those bastards. They sit behind their computer screens and don’t care who they kill. I should’ve shot Warren as soon as I saw him pointing a gun at you.”
“I think that would’ve made a mess.” Abby looked down.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Tris teased at her food with the fork.
Abby squeezed her arm. “I blame the Enclave for killing my dad.”
Tris offered a slow nod. “Yeah. Yeah… me too.”
Kevin attempted a reassuring smile and spent a few minutes working on his breakfast in silence.
Around the time they finished eating, Ray, Larry, and Katie approached.
“Gonna head out,” said Ray. “Little one wanted to say thanks again.”
“Thank you.” Katie grinned.
Kevin got up to let Tris out of the bench. Katie hugged everyone―twice―and followed Ray and Larry outside to a battered blue pickup truck with a cap over the bed made of welded steel plates. She crawled up into a tiny rear bench seat. Both men waved at them in that ‘don’t get dead’ sort of way, and got in.
“We should hit the road too.” Kevin put his hands on Tris’ hips, and pulled her close.
Forehead to forehead, she smiled and gave him a quick kiss. “Yeah. I’m dying to know what he found in those music files.”
Abby scooted to the end of the booth seat and stood. “How much longer ’til we get there? I wanna go home.”
“We should get there in a couple hours. Unless whatever he’s got to show us takes a long time, we’ll probably be back here at night to sleep, and home the next day,” said Kevin.
“Great.” Tris took Abby’s hand. “Let’s go.”
“Uhh…” Abby ground her shoe into the floor. “Can we maybe stop somewhere without a head in the toilet?”
Kevin stared with bleary eyes at the endless road sweeping under the Challenger’s hood. Abby had curled up in the back seat, kicked off her shoes, and passed out within minutes of getting underway. He stifled a yawn. At least I’ll be able to sleep tonight.
The Roadhouse Chronicles Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 91
