Abby shivered. “We never even saw it. Some of the soldiers found a smashed bottle in the road with green stuff. Couple days later, they got sick. Couple days after that they… uhh…” She closed her eyes and let out a shuddering breath, fighting off the urge to break down.
Kevin squeezed her shoulder while Tris held her hand.
“I never really had any training or exposure to the drone program,” said Tris. “Zara was part of the military, so she might know more. But, those things are pretty quiet. The one we found in Amarillo had crashed. Someone must’ve seen it and shot it down, but not before it started to drop capsules. It’s about the size of a motorcycle, black.”
“Basically,” said Kevin, “if you see anything flying that isn’t alive, shoot the shit out of it.”
Zoe walked out from the kitchen door, barefoot in her denim dress. She raised her arms toward Bill, showing off black gunk smearing them from fingertip to elbow. “Finished cleaning it. Wanna check it?” She noticed Kevin and cheered. “Kevin!” She darted over and jumped up and down in front of him without touching. “Cleaned my rifle. I’m too dirty for hugs.”
“Hey, sweetie.” He grasped her around the chest under the armpits, picked her up, and swung her around once before setting her back down. “We’re going on an important trip. Abby’s gonna stay here for a couple days. I need you to make sure she stays safe.”
“Okay,” chirped Zoe.
Abby furrowed her eyebrows. “She’s younger than me.”
While Tris scooped Zoe up for her hug, Kevin leaned close to Abby and whispered, “Just go with it. It makes her feel better.”
“Oh,” said Abby. “So I really can’t come with you guys?”
“Suppose we do bring you, and we get surrounded by Infected. For one thing, I don’t want you to have to go through that again, and for another, I don’t want you to have to go through that again.”
She smiled despite crying again. “Okay. You guys are my parents now. ’Kay? You better come back.”
“That’s the plan.” He chuckled.
Tris set Zoe down and glanced to the left. “How’s Cody doing?”
The little blonde darted inside.
Pete offered a resigned one-shoulder shrug. “He’s not talking so much. Gets edgy after dark. Sometimes he wakes up crying, but doesn’t want me to see him like that. You know, at the ripe old age of thirteen, he’s too big to be scared.” He shook his head. “I’d be worried more, but he seems to like that girl Emma. ’Course, he’s afraid to talk to her.”
Kevin smiled for a second or two. “If there’s any way we can pay back the Enclave for everything…”
Pete nodded. “Don’t do anything stupid. You want any help?”
“Nah.” Kevin smiled. “Right now, we’re only checking on something small. Call it a scouting operation. Your family needs you.”
“If you want some militia, I can probably get the elders to approve a couple.” Bill hooked his thumbs in his pockets.
“Ned needs them more,” said Tris. “We can move quicker and easier with just the two of us… and I don’t want to be responsible for anyone else being hurt if this turns out to be another tease from Nathan.”
“You don’t believe it is.” Kevin shot her a meaningful look.
“No, I don’t. That message was too involved. Nathan’s not that crafty.” Tris squatted and wrapped Abby in a hug. “Keep yourself safe. See you soon.”
“Okay, Mom.” Abby squeezed her, sniffling.
Kevin concealed a wince at the look of guilt on Tris’ face. If she changes her mind, I ain’t gonna push her.
Eventually, Abby released her grip, and Tris stood.
Zoe came back outside, her arms and hands clean. She ran over to Abby. “Wanna play?”
Abby made a face like her dog died. “I guess.” She hugged Kevin. “Come home, please.”
“Be good.” He kissed the top of her head, patted her on the back, and gave Tris the ‘well, you still want to do this?’ glance.
With a grim face, she plodded off down the road toward their house.
“Thanks for watchin’ Abby.” Kevin shook Bill’s hand. He waited for the two girls to disappear inside the house. “She’s been having nightmares. Hope it’s not a problem. She might wake up screaming a few times.”
Bill nodded. “Been there done that. Zoe was the same way for a while. Ann’s pretty good at dealing with bad dreams.”
“Alright. Well, I better do this before I change my mind.” Kevin glanced over at Tris who waited a little ways down the road with a ‘hurry up before I chicken out’ expression. “I’d be lying if I didn’t have a little hope this turns out to be a load of crap.”
“Keep your eyes open and get home safe.” Bill shook hands.
Kevin nodded. “Will do.” He heaved a sigh and followed Tris home.
She had a bit of a lead on him, and ducked inside as soon as she reached the house. He headed for the car. Tris emerged from the front door a second before his fingers touched the handle, carrying two bags of supplies, which she stuffed in the Challenger’s back seat before getting in beside him.
“Last chance to change your mind,” said Kevin.
Tris let her head loll back against the seat, closed her eyes, and sighed. “I can’t.”
“All right. Let’s do it.”
Kevin swiped his thumb over the rocker switches, each one lighting blue. The little screen in the middle of the dash displayed a mangled mess of pixels before sharpening into the rear-view targeting camera.
They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the soft hum of active electronics.
“Tris?” Kevin glanced over at her, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure we shouldn’t have jinx-breaker sex first?”
She playfully punched him on the shoulder. “Just drive.”
Kevin brought the Challenger to a halt on Route 119 as soon as Boulder came into sight. Tris had been crying in silence since they started moving. “If you want to go back, say the word.”
She clenched her jaw. “I want to, but I can’t. Tell me again it’s a bad idea to bring Abby with us.”
“It’s an awful idea.” He wrung his hands on the steering wheel, making the leather creak. “Thought she got shot last time when those jackasses strafed us.”
“Yeah.” She sniffled. “I’m so terrified we’re going to come back and find Amarillo all over again.”
He accelerated. “Then we should hurry the hell up so we’re back in time for the shit to hit the fan.”
“Maybe I’m overreacting. Nathan hit Amarillo because he didn’t know where we were. How could he possibly know we stayed in Nederland?”
Kevin lifted one hand off the wheel in a limp gesture of appraisal. “True. If he could find us, he woulda dropped that shit right on Rawlins.”
“I don’t think so. Virus won’t kill me.”
“No, but it would end my ass, and then you’d fly straight back to the Enclave with murder in your eyes where he could kill you more easily.”
She seethed. “Thanks for making me see that.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah.” Tris sighed. “I hope Abby’s not too angry at us if we come back.”
“When we get back, I’m sure she’ll be happy enough that we’re back to forget all about being angry.”
Tris smiled.
“Unless they drop Virus on Ned and she barely survives again, then she’ll be―”
Tris punched in him the arm; a flash of pain flickered like lightning from his shoulder to his fingertips, stunning the limb.
“Ow, fuck!” He cringed. “That wasn’t exactly playful.”
She raised an eyebrow, her face grim. “Don’t joke about that.”
“Right…” He reached across and rubbed his bicep, holding the wheel steady with one knee. “Gonna head up 119 to 25 to 80 and shoot west. I know at least two ’houses we should be able to stop at. Once we pass Reno, no guarantees. We might get stuck a day or two waiting on the trickle charg
er.”
“Or we could ambush an Enclave patrol stopped for a piss break and steal their Hoplite.” She winked.
“I’d prefer to avoid contact if at all possible. Might not even be a bad idea to swap and move at night once we’re in Cali.”
She scratched her head. “It’s not like they’re actively hunting us.”
“Yeah… Let’s hope that stays true after we poke that number. If we can even find a way to do it. Do you have any kind of plan?”
Tris watched the road go by for a few minutes.
“Me neither.”
“Terminal9 mentioned a telephone company central office once we make it into Redwood City. Suppose we just drive around looking for it.”
“Did he give you anything more specific?”
Tris leaned around into the back and rummaged one of the bags she’d brought. She slid back into her seat holding a few yellowed papers with computer printing on them. “Umm. Not really. This is a bunch of passwords, user accounts, and some technical diagrams.”
“Great. So we’ve got a pile of gibberish and a whole city to search.” Route 119 skirted around Denver, sparing them having to deal with any Infected. He hooked a left turn onto 25 north, which would take them to Route 80. “Simple, right?”
“Yeah. I figure there has to be more than one CO, some kind of distribution of load across multiple sites. All we have to do is find one of them.” She shook her head, chuckling. “Maybe this weird feeling in my head will give me another waypoint.”
Kevin emptied his lungs through his teeth. “Last time we followed one of those glowing trails…”
“Yeah, but I’m not expecting people this time… we’re looking for a building.”
After hitting Route 80, Kevin opened it up and cruised around 150 mph for the better part of the day. Every minute that ticked by made him second guess leaving Ned behind, but he couldn’t argue that something had gotten a hold of Tris. She wouldn’t let this go, and would be miserable if they didn’t at least try. A telephone number… of all the useless things someone could possess in the Wildlands―that ranked near the top, a few spots below a pilot’s license. He’d never once even heard of a working telephone outside of old movies.
“I wonder…” He glanced at her. “Maybe it’s a funny way to get us to that building? Whoever sent that message can’t honestly expect a phone to work, right?”
She shrugged. “At a basic level, it’s a wire between two devices. If the area is small enough, there might be a bit of the network left intact.”
Four-ish hours later, they pulled in at the Rawlins Roadhouse… former home. Fitch had taken to running the place, and seemed to have lost his itch to drive around. Of course, not driving around also meant he never had to use up the 20mm rounds he’d collected for the big gun on his truck, which made him happy. The place seemed to be doing well, though a few bullet holes in the wall that hadn’t been there before cemented Kevin’s resolve that he’d made the right choice.
He did kind of miss the place, but mostly because of all the work he’d put into fixing it up, and that it represented the culmination of a dream long chased.
Fitch dropped off a pair of burgers with Sang’s signature fries at their table. “Good ta see ya again. How things been?”
“Interesting.” He smiled. “Damn they still smell good.”
Fitch settled into a chair. “What brings ya out this way? Thinkin’ o’ coming back?”
“Nah. I’m gettin’ used to Ned. Got the kid to watch out for now and, well.” Kevin pointed at the wall. “See you’ve gotten some new air conditioning installed.”
Fitch chuckled. “That Jamie’s a hell of a shot. Couple shitheads came in and tried to rob the place. Not even subtle about it.”
“Damn.” Kevin shook his head. “Things are getting crazy faster than I thought they would.”
“Ehh, it’s under control.” Fitch grinned. “Just means places need some muscle. Neal’s doing an okay job maintaining the panels. Ain’t quite got Tris’ touch with it, but we’re gettin’ by. So what’s got you rollin’ again?”
Kevin took his time chewing a seasoned fry before speaking a hair over a whisper. “Got an encoded message. Something about the Enclave. We’re checking on that lead, seein’ where it goes.”
“Oof.” Fitch held up both hands in a ‘no thanks’ gesture. “I’d sooner wave my junk at a rattlesnake’s mouth.”
Tris stared at him. “How… colorful.”
“Where’s Neeley?” Kevin looked around.
Jaime, still neck to toes in full riding leathers, sat in a booth on the far right, watching the room. She looked less nervous than the last time he’d seen her, and returned a faint smile during their momentary eye contact.
“Run ta Carver’s place. He’s thrown a couple M249s on Bull’s old 4x4.” Fitch chuckled. “Them idiots who tried to rob us left behind two cars and a bunch of ordinance.”
“Hey, boss man.” Sang glided out of the kitchen and hurried over to shake Kevin’s hand. “Good see you.” He bowed at Tris. “You as well. How is Abby?”
“Fine.” Tris smiled at him. “As good as I suspect anyone could be after what happened.”
They chatted for a little while more about the day-to-day while eating. Aside from a few fights, and the one robbery attempt, things were relatively the same as he’d remembered.
“Kinda in a hurry.” Kevin reached over to shake Fitch’s hand again. “Hate to eat and haul ass, but… Abby’s wanting us home on the sooner side of later.”
“Understood.” Fitch clapped him on the shoulder before bowing at Tris. “You two need anything for the road? Good on ammo?”
“Not exactly planning to get into a war, but… how’s the .45 stock look?”
“Shit.” Tris sighed. “I’d like a couple more magazines’ worth of nine mil, and did you get anything in for an AK?”
Fitch stood. “Let me check.”
A few minutes later, he returned with one magazine for a Beretta 92, two thirty-round box mags for an AK47 (loaded), plus a cardboard box of fifty 9mm bullets and two twenty-round boxes of 7.62x39.
He handed Kevin a cloth sack. “Got twenty-two rounds of .45.”
Kevin started working out how much he’d charge for it.
Fitch must’ve seen the math on his face; he held up a hand. “You dropped off over five grand before you shipped off to Ned. Don’t worry about it. This is still your inventory. ’House is still yours. I’m only keeping the seats warm.”
Kevin smiled. “I can’t really see us comin’ back here… unless somethin’ happens to Tris or Ned gets wiped out.” He sighed. “May as well consider the place yours.”
“Well.” Fitch smiled. “If you ever show up here a bitter and lonely widower, I’ll still call it your place.”
“Fair enough.” Kevin tossed the bag of ammo up and caught it.
“Same goes for you, girl.” Fitch winked at Tris. “This guy gets his ass shot up, and you stop carin’ ’bout if you see tomorrow, ’mon back.”
She swallowed hard and stared at Kevin. “And on that cheerful note…”
“Right.” Kevin downed the last of his water. “Take care of yourself, man.”
“Don’t be a stranger.” Fitch winked.
Kevin shook hands, patted his friend on the shoulder, and headed outside, around to the passenger side door. Tris gave him a surprised look, but didn’t hesitate to take the wheel. Kevin felt a little odd in the other seat of the Challenger, a vehicle that represented his greatest love for so long… until he’d met Tris. He leaned back and rested his eyes. Having a working telephone would be nice. That would let him check up on Abby (and Nederland) now and then. Tris had a point though; Nathan hadn’t found them at Rawlins, so he resorted to taking out Amarillo. He wanted to accept the idea that Nederland could be safe, but security edged away from his fingertips every time he tried to grab it.
The ride west continued for several hours with little conversation, and thankfully, little in the way of
bullets flying. One old beat up van tried to chase them, but barely made it onto Route 80 from its ambush hidey-hole before it faded to a speck in the rear-view screen. Kevin blinked at the small monitor.
“How fast are you going?”
“182,” said Tris.
“Fuck.”
“That would be a little awkward at this speed.” She smiled. “Relax. I’ve got dex boosters, remember? I can react faster than you to shit in the road.”
“Right.”
He closed his eyes. The next thing he knew, the sun hid away behind the horizon up ahead, creating a band of bright orange over the dark earth beneath an indigo sky. After a stretch and a yawn, he pushed his hands into the seat on either side of his ass and sat up straight.
Tris pointed at a red glow up ahead. “Another roadhouse.”
Kevin squinted into the dark. Sure enough, the neon red radiance of a Roadhouse sign cast a haunting reflection on the road surface. “Yep.” He ruffled through his map book. “Evanston. This is our bed for the night.”
She pulled off the highway, following an approach ramp to a former truck stop. Two small nearby buildings looked abandoned, well progressed in the process of collapsing. One bore signs advertising a fortuneteller, while the one next to it, much larger, appeared to be a weapons shop independent of the ’house.
A pair of pickup trucks, one semi cab with no trailer, three sedans, and a van lined up in front of the main building like pigs at a trough. Tris stopped the car in an open spot between a silver pickup that someone had dropped down to the ground clearance of a sports car and the van.
Three small girls, about Zoe’s size, in old-timey off-white dresses that made them look like they’d come out of the 1800s, hung laundry on a cord off to the left of the roadhouse. All had long black hair and appeared to be identical triplets. They looked over with curiosity and unease in equal measure. As Tris stood out of the driver’s seat, they relaxed a little, and returned to their task.
The Roadhouse Chronicles (Book 3): Dead Man's Number Page 12
