The Redeemed

by Matthew S. Cox

  “What’s that?” He gestured at the dime.

  “Figured if I’m getting a show I should pay for it.” She winked at Tris, who threw the cleaning rag at her.

  “Sang?” called Tris.

  “Yes, boss?”

  “Can you please whip me up some lunch?”

  “What you want?”

  “Whatever we have the most of.” Tris let out a breath, turning to Kevin. “How’s the stock?”

  “Low, but Athena’s about to run to Carver for us.” Kevin grinned.

  The teen drained the three-quarter full beer without coming up for air. “Yeah, yeah. I’m goin’.”

  Tris collected a tray with a burger on it from Sang via the hole in the wall to the kitchen, then flopped on a folding chair behind the counter, using her lap for a table.

  “So other than our solar array being dangerously old, what else was wrong with it?” asked Kevin.

  Tris finished chewing her first bite. “Corrosion on the contacts. Broke the circuit. I’m gonna be up there a while.”

  “I’ll go with you.” He smiled, but looked away as a man, woman, and three kids all stood at once. After a bit of murmuring amongst themselves, the man walked over.

  “Nah. There’s only one wire brush and you gotta watch the shop.” Tris winked and took another bite.

  “Afternoon,” said Kevin.

  “Howdy.” The man directed a suspicious squint at Tris for a few seconds before making eye contact with Kevin. “How much ya askin’ fer one o’ them big rooms a night?”

  “Ten.”

  The man nodded and fished out an assortment of coins. Soon, the family disappeared through a door into what had, prior to August of 2021, been a cookie and cupcake shop.

  “There’s only one bed in there,” said Tris around her hamburger. “Do we have any extra blankets?”

  Kevin leaned forward and kissed her atop the head. “You are so beautiful.”

  She smirked, waving a round slice of fried potato at him. “Are you trying to be stingy and not come off as an ass?”

  “Nope.” He sighed with a hint of a smile. “All that you worry about, and you’re still so sweet to people.”

  She suppressed a laugh and tossed the fry into her mouth.

  “So… you want a baby huh?”

  Tris gasped and started choking.

  He patted her back until she coughed up a mangled wad of potato and took a few raspy breaths. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she gave him a startled look. “Where’d that come from?”

  “Oh, you had a certain look in your eye when you came in with that doll.”

  “Zoe was on the roof.” Tris scowled. “I told that girl not to play up there. What if she falls?”

  Kevin leaned back, stretching. “Maybe she’d learn to listen then.”

  “Do you miss it?” asked Tris.

  “Miss what?” He leaned his butt against the shelf behind the counter.

  She waved her half-burger around. “The road… the adrenaline… traveling.”

  His lips curled into a contemplative frown. Wayne had joked about that… Soon as you find yourself lookin’ out at everyone else livin’ the life while you’re sittin’ still, you’ll wish you’da had fun with all that money. Kevin smiled. “Not really. Not as much as Wayne was sure I would. Guess I outgrew it.”

  She finished her lunch in silence, set the tray aside, and stood. After a long, lingering stare, she kissed him again. “So, what are you thinking about?”

  He licked his lip. “I think I’m gonna have a burger.”

  She jabbed him in the side, grinning. “Ass.”

  He laughed and brushed her hair off her face. “I’m thinking how glad I am those idiots carried you into Wayne’s.”

  She jabbed him in the ribs again.

  “Ow. What was that for?” He rubbed the spot.

  “For leaving me tied up so long.” She stuck her tongue out at him, and laughed. “Okay, I’m gonna go get started on the panel guts.”

  “Careful. Don’t fall.” He winked.

  She gave him a raspberry and disappeared down the hall past the kitchen. Kevin shifted. He caught sight of the yellow-haired ragdoll and gritted his teeth. Driving other people’s crap from settlement to settlement had its scary moments, but the idea of having a kid of his own… now that was frightening.

  umbling in the ground drew Kevin’s attention to the door, and the shadow of an enormous olive-drab semi-truck. The glimpse hinted at tires as tall as a man, and a ladder on the side next to painted-over US Army markings. Liquor bottles on the shelf behind him clinked together as the titan passed close to the front door and proceeded around in a wide, circular turn before nosing up to the westernmost charging spot.

  He looked up at the ceiling. “Damn, I hope the system can handle the pull from that monster.”

  A click from the panel announced someone had plugged in a moment later, in time with the indicator light going yellow. Another click preceded the adjacent bay showing a plug as well. Soon after, two dark-haired men in their later twenties entered, followed by a pair of pale tween girls who appeared to be identical twins. Three women and an older teenaged boy with an infant in his arms brought up the rear. Everyone except for the infant carried a weapon. Assault rifles on the adults, both of the girls had handguns in thigh holsters, and the first man through the door also carried a blade akin to a medieval broadsword in a leather harness on his back. All wore green camouflage combat fatigues, though the twins had mismatched flip-flops instead of combat boots. The mood among them seemed friendly, if guarded.

  “Afternoon,” said Kevin. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen one of those things before.”

  The man flashed an annoyed smile. “Usually we don’t need to come in to charge. Got our own panels on the trailer, but damn pirates did a number on ’em. Headin’ to Amarillo to get some replacements once we finish this run.”

  With a shoulder pat, the somewhat younger man behind him walked off toward the tables, leading the rest of the small army to the biggest round table in the middle of the room. The teen bearing the infant sat near a red-haired woman two-ish years his senior, and both tended to the baby. The twins headed for the bathroom, accompanied by the oldest of the women. Kevin assumed mother since they all had the same shade of chestnut-brown hair.

  Kevin shook his head. “Ugh. I don’t think Amarillo will sell panels to a rig.” Besides they might be older than shit. “Hear there’s a settlement ’round ol’ Fernley, if ya keep goin’ west on 80. Guy there name ’o Wilkins.”

  “Didn’t Amarillo put out a contract on him a few years ago?” asked the second man. His uniform shirt bore the name ‘Stubblefield,’ though odds were, it had been scavenged.

  “Yeah, they did.” Kevin indicated the charging panel control with a thumb over the shoulder. “Six coins for the juice. ’Course no one took them up on it. Wilkins and his people don’t set up fake roadhouses. They help settlements. Made too many friends for anyone to mess with him.”

  “Hmm.” The first man, ‘Henderson’ according to his shirt, rubbed his chin. He set six coins on the counter. “What’s available food wise?”

  Kevin collected the money and flipped both switches; the lights pulsed in a slow blink, still amber. “Burgers, fries, think there’s some sausage left too… and soup. Need rooms?”

  Henderson nodded at the wall. “Nah. Got bunks in the trailer. Thanks though. Food for eight then. Mix it up.”

  “You got it.” Kevin headed out from behind the counter to collect a handful of dirty plates before walking into the back.

  Tris appeared from a doorway at the end of the hall and met him halfway to the kitchen. “Saw that truck come in. Need help down here?”

  He leaned over, arms full of dishes, and kissed her on the cheek. “You’re amazing. Sure. I’ll help Sang cook, watch the counter?”

  “‘Kay.” She brushed past him and disappeared into the main room.

  Kevin elbowed the kitchen door aside. He dumped the plates
and forks into a basin sink before giving Sang an apologetic look. “Big order. Eight people.”

  “Wow… small army.” Sang set down his book and rolled off his bed to his feet.

  “Yeah. They’ve even got the camo.” Kevin opened the spigot to rinse his hands, but jumped back as the pipe spat and hissed. “Gah!”

  “Give it a sec. Pump’s been struggling… or the well’s drying out.” Sang wiped his hands on a towel. “What they order?”

  “Assortment… burgers, fries, soup. Figured I’d help.”

  Snapping in the hallway announced the approach of small flip-flops. Both twins peered into the kitchen, curious until their mother tugged at them. Sang waved; the girls smiled and walked off, back to the front room.

  Sang resumed cooking, whistling to himself. The water caught up a second later, allowing Kevin to wash his hands. Soon, he tended a number of patties on a grill, not quite able to tell if they were beef, venison, or dust-hopper. The old man leaned over to sprinkle them with seasonings every so often while spending most of his time on the fries, soup, and a steak big enough for two people to share. He’d arrived with a large footlocker full of all sorts of jars containing spices, herbs, and powders; with any luck, his stash would last a few years.

  “Hope your girl drive fast.” Sang gestured at the fridge. “We running low.”

  Kevin chuckled. “Yeah, that little windup toy of hers is fast.”

  “You doing well here.” Sang grinned. “I am happy to have found this place.”

  He’s gettin’ kinda old. “Heh. It’s good to have you. Your fries are already a legend along this stretch of 80.” Kevin rested his weight on the spatula hand, leaning on the front edge of the grill. “Not that I’m trying to get rid of you or anything, but if you have any family you want to get back to, say the word. Pretty sure my car still works.”

  Sang bowed. “Much kind of you, but there is no one.” A glimmer of sorrow fled from the elder’s eyes.

  “I’m sorry.” Kevin slid the spatula under a burger and flipped it, dodging grease spatter. With the mind-numbing sizzle of meat flooding his senses, he stared at the wires connecting the heating element up to the ceiling, and to the solar-charged battery. How much of his dream hung on the aging hardware. Without the panels, no cooking, no charging… wouldn’t be much of a roadhouse.

  For a little while, the two men stood without speaking amid the scratch of a spatula or the scrape of a soup ladle.

  “Marsing,” said Sang.

  “Hmm?” Kevin glanced over. “What?”

  “I can feel the wonder on you.” Sang teased the ladle around in the soup. “I lived in a settlement called Marsing, a few hundred miles north and west of here with my son, Jae-Yong.”

  Kevin looked away from the grim expression on the old man’s face, and nudged a burger back and forth across a small sea of grease. “Sorry.”

  Sang let his head droop, nodded, and stood straight again. “Thank you. He was nineteen.”

  Tris appeared at the door, mouth open as if to speak, but the mood in the air struck her mute.

  “He go with some of his friends on scavenging trip to Boise. Six of them leave, four came home.” Despite the topic, the elder spoke with a calm resignation and no increase in gloom upon his features.

  Kevin sighed as he scooped finished burgers from the grill onto a waiting group of buns. He winced, realizing he’d forgotten to ask Athena to see if Carver had any flour for sale. “I… damn. Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

  Sang nodded without looking at him. “I understand. It is good to unburden oneself of such things. Jae-Yong did return, but he had haunted eyes.” The ladle scuffed against the pot; the rhythm of a slow stir competed with the noise of bubbles.

  Kevin glanced over at the old man’s face amid a cloud of fragrant steam. He didn’t want to ask if the boy had killed himself out of guilt.

  “Two days passed. Jae-Yong remained in his bed. He did not want to see anyone.”

  “Depressed?” asked Kevin.

  Tris crept in, standing at his side.

  “No. On the second day, he showed me a mark on his arm where he had been bitten. Infected.”

  Tris gasped. Kevin cringed.

  “I am a weak man.” Sang stopped stirring, staring into the still-whirling mass of brown liquid, beans, and potatoes. “I could not bring myself to kill my own boy. Many died when he lost his sanity. I was exiled.”

  “Oh, no,” whispered Tris. She stared at the floor.

  Sang inhaled, held it, and let the air out his nose. Several seconds of silence passed before he lifted his head with a faint smile. “I had intended to wait until Jae-Yong was no longer Jae-Yong, but the change came on him while I slept. I still do not understand how I was not his first victim.”

  Kevin clapped him on the shoulder and squeezed. “There was still enough of him in there. I don’t know that I could do any different in that position.”

  Sang nodded. “Thank you.”

  He ladled soup into bowls without another word. Whatever question Tris had entered with remained lost. She hovered at Kevin’s side with the posture of a child expecting punishment until he handed her a pizza-platter turned serving tray full of burgers. She carried it out into the hall, followed by Kevin with another tray bearing soup bowls and the giant steak.

  “Hey…” He caught up to her. “Enough of that look. It’s not your fault. You might’ve come from the Enclave, but you’re not part of it.”

  She sniffled. “I know. It’s just that… I could’ve done something to stop―”

  “No, you couldn’t have.” He grumbled. “You did not screw anything up. They sent you out as a living weapon.”

  Tris spun to face him, nearly causing two burgers to slide off the tray. “But… I have to do something.”

  “You? Why? Because you’re from there? Are you a geneticist? A doctor?” He slouched. “Look, I don’t mean to be an asshole… but really. What do you think you’re supposed to do?”

  She grumbled and resumed walking toward the front room. “I dunno. It just feels like I should be doing something. If I’m not feeling guilty over not stopping the Virus, I’m feeling worried that the Enclave is going to show up and try to kill me.”

  “Easier for them now that we’re stationary.”

  “No.” She whined at him. “I’m not complaining about this place… you’re so happy here. I’m happy here… I just…”

  “Feel guilty. Yeah.” He followed her over to the round table and set the platter down. “Here ya go. Some burgers, soup… and Sang threw in a steak. Probably venison.”

  The twins eyed the steak.

  “Thanks,” said Henderson. “What do we owe you?”

  Kevin considered a bulk discount, but remembered they wouldn’t be renting rooms. Their clothing and gear appeared to be in good repair. He added up what the portions would’ve cost one at a time. Five coins for the steak, three each for burgers and fries, two per soup bowl. “Meh, call it an even thirty.”

  Henderson accepted the price without flinching, and handed over coins. “Smells good.”

  “Let me know if you need anything.” Kevin carried the handful of coins to the counter and fiddled with the lockbox to get the combination open.

  Tris leaned on him. “I’m about a third of the way done with the panels. Some were worse than others.”

  “Hope that rig doesn’t blow anything out.” He threaded an arm around behind her back. “They’ve got it hooked up by two leads.”

  “Probably two independent battery clusters. Something that size might have tandem drive trains or one’s a backup.” She rested her head against him. “I do feel safe here, but I’m not sure I deserve it.”

  “You had nothing to do with anything the Enclave did.” He kissed her atop the head. “Where’s all this guilt coming from?”

  Tris sighed. “I don’t know. It’s like I used to know and forgot. Sometimes when it’s quiet, I feel like… I dunno, you ever walk into a room and
forget why you went there? I get that feeling a couple times a week.” She fidgeted. “What if they made me forget something?”

  Kevin raised an eyebrow. “They can do that? That’s only a little unnerving.”

  “Well… I got months of ‘training’ in a couple weeks.” She tapped her sneaker tip on the floor and wobbled her foot side to side. “I’ve never seen anything about erasing memories.”

  “Simulations aren’t the same as just putting information into your head. You learned things the usual way, just faster.”

  “I guess.” She twisted around to peer out the door. “I’m surprised you haven’t gone climbing all over that truck to see how it works.”

  He grinned. “Oh, I’ve been tempted… but it’d be rude.”

  The door swung open with a clatter of the dead hydraulic assist. A large man with shoulders bulky to the point he appeared not to have a neck stumped in, followed by a skinny man in black leather who resembled a skeleton in a man-suit. Kevin’s back muscles stiffened. These two constantly flirted with the edge of civility. Whenever they stopped by, someone always got hurt. Pedro Trujillo, aka ‘Bull,’ and his backup driver, Ajay Samed, who had tried to call himself ‘Reaper,’ but got tired of the way people made a joke out of it, him being so skinny and all.

  “That was quick,” said Kevin. He leaned on the counter. “Run into much trouble?”

  “Couple of Topekans felt all sorta charitable.” Bull grinned a disaster of teeth at him. “Got a trunk full o’ salvage.”

  Ajay’s laugh slid in and out his nose, hissing past a clenched jaw.

  “They still using those flimsy ass buggies?” Kevin flipped open his notebook, turned to the taken jobs page, and found the entry where he’d sent the pair to Rossville, Kansas with two footlockers’ worth of tee shirts. “That was a collection run.”

  “Yep. Was.” Bull gave him a long, measuring stare before unhooking an orange-and-black hip satchel from his belt and dropping it on the counter. The clink of coins mixed with the rustle of nylon. Before Kevin could grab it, the man dropped his paw of a hand on top of it. “Interesting little arrangement you guys have. Ever wonder why people don’t just keep the money? We’re the ones gettin’ shot at.”