The Roadhouse Chronicles Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Cox, Matthew S.

  “I’m sorry.” Abby squeezed Zoe’s hand. “Mine died when I was five. I don’t really even remember her. She had something the doctor couldn’t fix.”

  “The people on the bus were kinda mean to me.” Zoe frowned. “No one wanted to take care of me, so they stuck me in the back and ignored me. We drove until it got dark, an’ the man driving got into a fight with another man who wanted to drive ’cause the other man had been doing it too long. They pulled over so we could get out and pee and stuff. Some people had food, an’ they ate some. I didn’t have any.”

  “That’s so mean.” Abby scowled. “How could they not feed a kid?”

  Zoe shrugged. “This one old man was nice to me. He gave me a potato an’ told me a story ’bout this other planet that’s all jungle and’s got these little hamster men who helped save the whole universe by killin’ bad machines with rocks and spears an’ stuff.”

  Abby grinned.

  Zoe’s smile faded to a hollow stare of fear. “The ’fected found us. The old man carried me on the bus, but the driver man was fat an’ they got him. The old man took a big suitcase offa shelf, dumped it empty, ’an told me ta get inside.” She shivered. “I got in and he shut it up tight. Everyone was screaming and the ’fected made roars and moans. I heard ’em walkin’ ’round. Some of ’em stepped on me.”

  Abby gasped and held Zoe’s hand tighter. “That’s so scary…”

  “I think they smelled me. Kept pickin’ up the suitcase and droppin’ it. I didn’t make noise. I’s too scared to cry. They went away, but I still didn’t move ’til I had ta pee, an’ it was quiet for a long time. I couldn’t get out.”

  Abby shivered.

  Zoe blushed. “I cried. I thought I was gonna die. ’Fected too stupid to open a suitcase. I started yelling, but no one was left. They all died.”

  Abby rolled onto her side, facing Zoe. “I’m so sorry… that’s awful.” That’s why they let her have this room… the ladder. She knows they can’t climb ladders.

  “I got all dizzy and sick, dunno how long I was in there… but I heard someone and tried to yell. Was Bill. He found me and let me out.” Zoe got quiet for a while. Color returned to her face, as did her smile. “An’ your parents came here an’ Bill asked them ta get my Dad and Cody out from Chicago. They did it!”

  Abby forced herself to smile back. “That’s great. I’m sorry you got stuck in a suitcase.”

  Zoe shrugged. “It saved me from ’fected. That’s what I bad dreamed about. Bein’ stuck in a suitcase. What’s your bad dream like?”

  “Umm. Probably not as scary as that.”

  “What is it?” Zoe tickled her side.

  “Stop.” Abby grabbed for the elusive finger, but soon found herself in a tickle war.

  A sharp thud in the floor brought their giggling to a halt.

  Abby froze, dreading punishment. Zoe didn’t seem too worried. She kept a hand over her mouth to mute continued laughter. Once she’d calmed again, she pushed on Abby’s shoulder.

  “’Mon. Tell me. You don’t gotta be scared.”

  Abby cringed, not wanting to think about it. Already, the phantom presence of rope closed around her wrists. “Umm. I was in Amarillo.”

  “Big city?”

  “Kinda. It was. Not really. People got sick. A drone dropped Virus on us, and no one knew what it was. People… people I knew… turned Infected. Everyone went crazy.”

  Zoe’s eyes widened. “That’s scary.”

  “Only like fifteen of us made it. We were hiding in the basement of an old store for like two weeks. When it all happened, I had to run in the middle of the night. I only had my dress, no shoes. The basement was chilly and wet and I got a cold. Everyone thought I’d gotten the bad virus.” Angry shouts danced around her memory; again, the harsh overhead light beat down on her. Warren glowered. Tears flowed.

  Zoe rolled over and held her. “It’s okay.”

  The absurdity of a younger girl trying to play mommy chased away some of the terror. She wiped her face. “This old bastard Warren thought I was gonna turn into an Infected. He made me take my dress off in front of everyone so they could look for bite or scratch marks. My Dad was angry and told them no, but they yelled at him ’cause they thought he knew I’d been scratched and was trying to hide it. They said he wanted to kill everyone.”

  “Okay. They checked me when I got here too, but it was only one doctor lady.” Zoe shrugged. “I hadda bend over an’ touch my toes. She put a cold metal thing on my chest and back. An’ this squeezy thing on my arm that hurt.”

  “I didn’t have any bite or scratch marks, but he was still gonna shoot me.” A rush of gratitude flooded her as she remembered the glower on Tris’ face when she first stormed in. She had no idea who Abby even was then, but still she looked so angry at the way Warren had treated her. “Tris came outta nowhere and pointed a gun at him. She tried to tell them I wasn’t sick, but everyone was afraid I was gonna turn into an Infected in the middle of the night. Warren made them tie me to the bed so if I got sick, I couldn’t get anyone.”

  Zoe scrunched up her face. “That’s mean, but I guess it’s better than being shot.”

  Abby stared at her. “How would you feel if they tied you to a bed and Infected came in? And you couldn’t get away.”

  “Eep!” Zoe curled up and shivered. “That’s different! That happened? Did they get you?”

  “My Dad and Tris stayed with me. The Infected broke into the basement, but they didn’t get to the room I was in. After that, Tris made everyone leave. A couple people got hurt running past Infected. We stopped at this roadhouse to sleep, and Warren said he’d shoot me if they didn’t tie me to the bed again. Lauren got scratched bad. She went Infected in one night. I heard her roaring and I couldn’t move. I thought Infected were gonna come in the room and get me.”

  “That’s scarier than bein’ in a suitcase,” whispered Zoe. “’Fected can’t open a suitcase.”

  Abby sniffled. “Later, on the ride, my cold got worse. It was just a normal cold, but Warren was gonna shoot me. He went crazy. My Dad tried to stop him from killing me, and Warren shot him.” Abby broke down, sobbing into her hands. “Warren killed my Dad right in front of me.”

  Zoe held on again. “I’m sorry.”

  “Girls?” whispered Ann. “Is everything okay?”

  Abby sniffled and sat up enough to look at Ann peering over the floor from the ladder. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

  “All right, but if you need us, we’re right below you.” She offered a motherly smile and climbed down out of sight.

  Zoe narrowed her eyes. “I hope he died.”

  “Yeah. Tris shot him as soon as Dad died. Zack shot Tris for killin’ Warren, but Zara killed Zack and threatened to shoot anyone else who moved.”

  “Oh, no! Did Tris die?”

  “No, dumbass.” Abby poked her. “She was here for a month.”

  “Oh.” Zoe blushed. “Duh.”

  Abby rolled flat and stared at the ceiling again. “Now I’m scared the drones will come here too.”

  “What’s a drone?”

  “It’s like a machine that flies. Too small to carry a person.”

  “You don’t gotta be scared now.” Zoe sat up and pointed. “’Fected can’t climb ladders.”

  “Or open suitcases.”

  Zoe nodded. “I don’t wanna get in a suitcase again. I like ladders more.”

  “Girls, go to sleep,” murmured a male voice from beneath the floor.

  Abby cringed again.

  “’Kay,” said Zoe at normal volume. After a conspiratorial wink, she closed her eyes.

  Abby let a long, slow, silent sigh out her nose. She stared at the ceiling for a while, wondering how long it would take her to fall asleep, and if she did, how bad the nightmare would be.

  Arms folded across her chest, face hidden behind wild hair, Abby sat on the leftmost end of a dingy sofa. She stared at the red, blue, and orange embroidered lines covering the grey fabric by her feet, whi
ch she half sat on. She didn’t want to be here. Though nice, these people weren’t her parents. Zoe’s brother kinda bugged her too, the way he stared at her whenever they wound up in the same room. Over breakfast, and later at lunch, he’d spent the whole time watching her from across the table. His blank-faced expression could’ve been anything from thinking her cute to jealousy to wanting to punch her in the nose.

  It’s okay if he doesn’t want me here. I don’t wanna be here.

  The sofa faced a bookshelf, which had replaced the television set once mounted to the wall. One working TV existed in Amarillo, in the main Roadhouse where visitors and guests went. She’d heard people say that before the war, they existed in every house. Sometimes people even had more than one. She didn’t believe that though… probably only them telling stories to mess with kids.

  “Has she been like that long?” whispered Pete, somewhere behind her.

  “Most of the morning. Didn’t want to go outside with the other kids,” whispered Ann.

  Abby frowned, thinking of Zoe trying to talk her into going down to the lake and swimming. Not like Nederland offered much else to do, and the children didn’t have to go to school during summer. No one could remember why school didn’t happen in the summer, only that it had always been that way. She didn’t have any interest in playing or having fun, not with her new parents’ lives in danger. She felt better being alone.

  “Kid looks like some kind of patient in a mental ward, hiding in the corner of her padded cell.” Pete sighed. “I hope those two burn the whole thing down. The world could tolerate another nuke to get rid of the Enclave.”

  “No kidding.” Ann walked up behind the couch. She leaned over and tickled at the bottom of Abby’s bare foot. “Hey, kiddo. You all right?”

  “Yeah.” She squirmed to move her foot away.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Ann tilted her head. “¿Quieres hablar acerca de ello?”

  Abby glowered. “I don’t understand Spanish. Just ’cause my last name’s Padilla doesn’t mean I know it.”

  Ann gave her a sympathetic look.

  “Sorry.” Abby looked down.

  “You’re worried, and that’s fine.” Ann smiled. “I’ve seen Tris take on some bandits. She’ll be okay.”

  Abby nodded. “Thanks for letting me stay here. Sorry we kept you awake.”

  “Zoe’s excited to have a friend sleeping over.” Ann squeezed her shoulder. “It’s bound to happen at your age.” She chuckled. “Though I’d appreciate it if you two didn’t make a habit of staying up all night talking.”

  “We won’t.” Abby picked at the sofa cushion by her knee.

  “It’s about time I got started on dinner. Would you be a dear and go fetch Zoe and Cody from the lake?”

  “Okay.” Abby sat still for a little while longer before dragging herself to her feet.

  She didn’t bother going back up to the loft for her moccasins, and headed outside. Avoiding the gravel road by way of a narrow strip of dirt and grass beside it, she walked around the bend, following the trail deeper into Nederland. She’d been to the lake only a few times, but remembered the way. Of course, in a town this small, it would almost take more effort to get lost than go where you wanted.

  Near the center of town, she turned left and followed a strip of paved road for a while before heading off to the right and up a grassy hill. At the crest, she had a clear view of a too-blue manmade lake about sixty yards from end to end. Zoe, Isla, three other girls she hadn’t met, and two boys lounged about in the grass near the shore next to their clothes, evidently drying off before getting dressed again. About nine boys continued to play in the water; four had shorts on.

  Cassie sat on a bright green folding chair. Her oversized hat looked like it had been an umbrella in a former life, and though she held a book, she spent more time watching the kids in the water than reading. She kind of reminded Abby of Zoe grown up; they had the same shade of blonde hair and both had blue eyes. Of course, Abby couldn’t look at her without thinking about the basement of that store. Still, she liked the woman. Cassie had been one of the friendlier people there, and if she hadn’t fixed the radio, Tris and Zara never would’ve shown up in Amarillo.

  Abby made her way down the gentle slope of the grass facing the lake, and stopped near Zoe. The girl squinted up at her and grinned.

  “You changed your mind!” She leapt to her feet. “Come on. Let’s go back in the water.”

  “Ann said it’s time for dinner.”

  “Oh.” Zoe looked disappointed but offered no protest as she grabbed her dress and pulled it on. Facing the water, she cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, “Cody! Dinner!”

  A brown-haired head off to one side in the lake rotated toward them. Cody stood out of the water and tugged a soaked pair of black jean shorts up a little. He trudged, dripping, onto the grass. For the briefest of instants, he smiled at Abby before returning to his usual glum self.

  “Imma swim more!” yelled Isla. The seven-year-old sprang upright and ran back to the lake, trailed by a laughing Chinese girl closer to twelve.

  The others who had been drying off in the grass gathered their clothes and dispersed back toward town.

  Abby turned on her toes and walked up the hill.

  Zoe raced to catch up and fell in step at her right, flicking bits of grass off her arms. “Still sad?”

  “I’m not sad; I’m scared.” Abby studied the ground.

  “Of drones?” Zoe held a hand over her eyes and scrunched up her nose as she scanned the sky.

  “Yeah. And them not coming back.”

  Zoe’s cheer diminished for a few minutes. “I think they’ll be okay… but you can stay with me if something bad happens.”

  Abby glanced at her, biting her lip to stop from shouting. The girl meant well, after all. “Thanks.” She plucked a blade of grass from Zoe’s cheek and flicked it.

  “They kicked ass in Chicago,” mumbled Cody. “I don’t think where they went is gonna be worse than that.”

  Zoe’s eyebrows climbed; she stared at her brother for a few seconds in mute surprise.

  “Amarillo was pretty scary too. Infected chased us down the street.” Abby glanced to her right at Cody, who averted his gaze as if afraid of being caught looking at her. “One got almost close enough to grab me, but Tris killed it.”

  Cody mumbled, “Wow. That had to be scary.”

  “It was.” Abby slid in single-file behind Zoe as they stepped onto the narrow dirt path alongside the gravel road. “It’s okay to have bad dreams. Even Kevin does, and he’s old.”

  “Really?” asked Cody, behind her. “He’s like… so tough.”

  “Infected scare everyone.” Abby frowned. “Even old men who wanna kill little girls because they have a cold.”

  “Huh?” Cody moved up into the thicker grass so he could walk at her side. “Someone wanted to kill you?”

  “Yeah. They were scared like little boys. Some of the men even cried when they thought no one could see them,” said Abby.

  Zoe raced in the front door of the house and headed right for the table. Cody looked at Abby for a while, gave a nod of thanks, and went inside. He hurried down the hall to his room, likely to change into something dry.

  Abby plodded over to the table and sat facing Zoe. Ann chased the girls into helping out with the last bits of table setting. She trusted Abby with a knife to cut up an onion while Zoe scooped taco meat and beans onto plates. It almost didn’t smell like ground dust hopper.

  Eventually, Bill and Pete showed up, and Cody emerged from the back in a white shirt and khaki shorts with oversized leg pockets. Ann and Bill chatted about militia things as well as the town’s primary farm. The woman kept referring to it as the ‘garden,’ but as far as Abby thought, anything that big ought to be called a farm.

  After dinner, Pete and Bill approached Cody with the idea of going to the range and practicing shooting. His near-instant “okay” and move to follow them left the men witho
ut words until they’d made it out onto the street. Abby and Zoe washed the dishes while Ann set to doing some kind of paperwork at the kitchen table.

  “Tracking seeds and production for the garden,” said Ann, catching Abby staring at the logbook. “Trying to work out how much to plant based on how many people we’ve got and how fast we’re going through food.”

  “Oh.”

  With the last of the dishes dried and put away, Zoe took Abby by the hand and led her back to the loft bedroom. She broke out a bunch of old dolls in much newer handmade clothes. The too-skinny plastic women had stains and scuffs from fifty or sixty years of being unwanted trash, but Zoe didn’t seem to care. Abby felt a little too old to play with dolls. Hell, she’d lost interest in them by Zoe’s age, but she went along with it.

  After a while, Zoe ran off to the bathroom, leaving Abby alone with the dolls. She knelt in the middle of the room, smirking at them as well as the powder blue walls. Aside from the toys and a lone small nightie hanging from a nail by where the angled ceiling got low enough to reach, the loft room looked like an elderly woman had decorated it. She fixated on a few bullet holes by the window, as well as a handful of spent casings on a cushioned cabinet in front of it that resembled a cross between a bench and a bookshelf.

  Abby knee-walked over to the shelf and plucked one of the brass casings out of a well in a battered red cushion. Splinters in the fabric suggested the holes in the wall as recent. The window looked out over a small field populated with boulders and brown grass, as well as a few tiny trees no bigger around than a man’s arm. One of the larger rocks had a red-brown stain on it.

  “That’s my spot,” said Zoe, sounding informational. “It’s where I guard from.”

  Abby held up the casing. “You?”

  “Uh huh.” She grinned. “Ann don’t like it, but Bill thinks I’m a good shot.”

  “Y-you’ve shot people?” Abby let the casing drop from her fingers, frozen in shock.

  Zoe nodded, making her blonde hair bounce. “Yep, but I don’t kill ’em. I hit ’em in the leg.” She poked Abby in the thigh. Inspiration bloomed in her expression. “Idea!”