The woman swiveled around and held out her wrists, but he walked away.
“Hey.” She ran up behind him. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”
He stopped on the porch. “You’re worth one, maybe two-thousand coins. That, and the last bitch I let in my car stole it. I’m not taking any chances. I only cut your feet loose because I’m too lazy to carry you.”
A little color appeared in her face, turning it pink around her nose. She stared at him with an expression halfway between exasperated and angry when four members of the ‘New’ gang wandered over and gathered around him.
“Cute bounty. Where’s the turn in?” asked a stocky man he knew as Juan.
“She ain’t a bounty, she’s a client,” said Kevin.
“Horseshit, man. You’re runnin’ her up to Roswell,” said a New with a long scar down his face. “You know we run the law around here. We’ll be takin this one off yer hands. Give us the details o’ what she’s wanted fer, and get lost.”
“If you’re some kind of law, why’d you let those idiots kidnap me?” The woman narrowed her eyes at Scar.
Kevin shook his head. “The only ‘law’ these shitheads enforce is whatever that fatass Raphael tells them to do, and four on one is their kind of odds. Four on three, not so much.”
“Look, man…” A tall, thin biker, Weed according to the name patch on his cut, pulled the leather aside to show a pistol. “This don’t need to be ugly. We’re gonna take her and get that bounty.”
“I ain’t gonna warn you humps again.” Kevin glared at Scar. “She ain’t no wanted bounty. She’s a fare.”
“You keep all your fares tied?” Weed pulled his gun. “Or you inta slavin’ now?”
Kevin dove with a roar, tackling the thin man flat. The gun bounced into the street as small armor plates in his glove pounded into the ganger’s cheek. A longhaired New grabbed Kevin by the shoulders and tried to haul him off. Scar and Juan went after the girl. She backed up down the long porch, twisting and pulling at the binding on her wrists.
“I’m not a bounty; he’s just being an asshole. Thinks I want to steal his car.”
“Yeah, right,” said the scarred one, reaching.
She feigned a whimper that lured him off guard. A snap kick to the crotch stunned him long enough for her to jump into a flip-over kick that left a shoeprint on his cheek. He kissed the wall of the Roadhouse and fell unconscious. The woman landed wobbly without being able to use her arms for balance, but stayed upright. Juan hesitated, staring at her.
Kevin shoved himself up, driving his elbow into the gut of the longhaired man above him. Beer-flavored wheeze washed over his head as the New enforcer stumbled to all fours. Weed sat up and punched for Kevin’s balls, but he caught the skinny man’s arm. Holding him by the wrist, Kevin pulled him forward into a kick that struck the side of the head, knocking him flat, and out cold. The longhaired man pulled a knife and lunged at Kevin as he recovered from the kick. The blade stalled on an armor panel in his jacket. Kevin trapped the knife-wielding arm and fell on it, using his weight to drag the man to the floor. He pinned longhair’s arm under one knee, trapped the man’s free arm with his left hand, and punched him repeatedly in the skull until he looked unconscious.
Kevin sat back on his heels, panting. Longhair didn’t seem likely to get back up any time soon, but he punched him again for good measure.
Juan screamed and rushed at the woman. She spun out of his grab, escaping with only a torn breast pocket, and whipped her leg into a roundhouse kick. Her heavy-soled shoe caught him in the left ear, sending him flying headfirst through the Roadhouse railing onto five of the New gang’s e-bikes, which collapsed like a row of dominoes. Juan moaned, still conscious, but apparently in too much pain to get up. She backed away, shaking her head in an effort to get her hair over her shoulders and out of her eyes.
Kevin helped himself to some loose coins from the two men he’d knocked out, keeping her in sight the whole time. She trotted up to stand nearby; her body shook from adrenaline, though her eyes held fear. The woman stared pleas at him until he walked to his car. He opened the passenger door and gestured for her to get in.
“Gonna untie me?”
He glanced at the two men she put down. “You’re dangerous enough without hands. Be glad I’m too lazy to carry you. Now, get in.”
She gave him a pouty face for all of four seconds, but the clatter of gangers waking up nudged her into the vehicle. Kevin disconnected the charging cable from a bank of plugs and let it reel back into its compartment in the right-front fender. He pushed the hatch cover closed with a click, made his way around, and opened his door. Juan tried to get up off the pile of bikes, but wound up tripping and rolling face first onto the road. Kevin shook his head.
“You guys are gonna feel dumb when you figure out she ain’t no bounty.” He fell into the driver’s seat. “She’s right, I am just an asshole.”
Slam.
The closed door muted their grumbling.
ilence filled the car for almost a half hour. The girl fidgeted, trying to squirm into a position to rub the soreness out of her ankles. Rope burns against such white skin looked like lipstick marks. Kevin kept his eyes on the road, heading north.
“Why won’t you trust me?” She stared at her lap.
“‘Cause you’re a woman.” He glanced at her for a few seconds. “And a pretty one at that. Think you can get anything you want out of a man with a cute stare and a little bit of whimpering. Acting more helpless than you are. I saw how you moved on that porch. That spill you took in Wayne’s was a pity plea.” He scowled. “I shouldn’t have let it work.”
Her face turned pink around the nose again. “I’m not like that. I’m not gonna steal your damn car. I could even help if you cut me loose. I know my way around a gun.”
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”
She kept quiet for another twenty minutes before she sniffled.
“Go ahead, cry if you want.” He tossed a rag in her lap. “You can blow your nose on that.”
“You gonna hold it for me?” She glared. “You’re going to think I’m trying to manipulate you into feeling sorry for me.”
“I already do, so get on with it and sob already.”
Her eyes narrowed. “In case you didn’t notice, I have no weapons, I’m not very strong, I’m alone, and I have no idea where I’m going or where I even am. Even if I did want to steal your car―which I don’t―I have no damn idea how to drive or which way to go.” She worked herself up into a huff, seeming much closer to angry than scared.
“Lying won’t help.”
She flashed a look of confusion.
“Not strong? You knocked Juan through a railing with one kick. I wasn’t that out of it. Wayne’s gonna be pissed at the damage.”
The woman got quiet.
“Didn’t figure a mole’d know their way around.”
She glanced past her hair at him. “What the hell is a mole?”
He tapped his fingers on the wheel for a moment before squinting at her. When her innocence didn’t flinch, he sighed. “You look like one. Pale as a ghost, white hair. Moles are them dumb bastards who think the war’s still going on and hide underground in old government shelters, sewers, or subways. After a few generations, they decided to expand the bunkers into cities rather than risk the outside world. Bunch o’ crazy idiots.”
She looked out the window on her side. “I’m not a mole. Please, I promise I won’t steal any of your things. I’m trying to save humanity.”
Kevin laughed. “You’re just full of big promises. A thousand coins, two thousand, saving all of humanity now?” He waved his hand about as he spoke. “Can’t say I blame you much. I don’t expect those three would’ve been very gentle with you.”
“What’s your name?”
“You’re trying to get in my head now. Get me to trust you. First it’s a name, then it’s a hug, maybe a kiss, maybe a handie, or maybe if you’re really desperate, full-on h
ead. Then, I let my guard down and I wake up naked and tied hugging a cactus without a car. Look, the only difference between you and my usual cargo is that you talk. I ain’t gonna touch you. I ain’t gonna hurt you. I’m going to take you where you wanna go and hope to get paid. If I don’t get paid, then we might have a problem. Until we get there and I get my money, I’m not gonna take the chance of you runnin’ off. I should probably have carried you.”
“I’m Tris. I swear you’ll get paid. The doctor’s been waiting for this information his whole life.” She lifted a leg and wiped her nose on her knee.
“What information? You’ve got nothing anywhere on you. Not a tattoo down your back is it?” He chuckled, swerving around some potholes.
The motion knocked her against the door; she grunted. “It’s in my head.”
“Of course it is.”
“No, really. Look behind my ear.” She twisted, exposing the side of her neck.
After a momentary pause to make sure he had enough clear road to glance away, he reached across to brush her hair aside. Behind her left ear, a tiny metal socket glinted. Tris didn’t flinch from his touch, but she did curl into a ball when he screamed and pounded the wheel.
“Shit!”
“W-what?” She raised her knee as if expecting the next punch to be for her.
“That’s an interface jack. You’ve got cybernetic implants.” Kevin’s glower darkened. “You’re from the goddamned Enclave.” He seethed.
Tris pressed herself into the passenger side door, trembling.
“Oh, knock that simpering shit off already. I’m not going to hit you. You’re probably boosted to hell and back and could kill me with your hands tied behind your back.”
“Doesn’t seem like there’s much point to leaving me tied then, is there?” She eased herself out of her fearful pose.
“Nice try.” He glanced at her feet. “I should.”
She stared at her lap. “Please don’t.”
His gloves creaked on the wheel. Several silent minutes passed.
“It worked a little, didn’t it?” Tris didn’t look at him. “You do feel just a little sympathy for me?”
“Yeah, maybe a little. Don’t confuse sympathy with desperation. I’m a hundred coins short of my dream, and you offered a thousand. It’s shit pay for this kind of drive, but it’s enough to let me retire. Don’t get too excited yet, sweetie. At least now I know why those three didn’t rip your clothes off.”
“What?”
“They must’ve figured out you were Enclave. If you’re out here alone, that means you’ve run away or escaped or something. Probably ten thousand coins on your head if you’re brought back alive―but they won’t take you if there’s any ‘genetic impurities’ going on. They find one swimmer, no cash.”
Tris blushed a little again. “They don’t need me for that anymore.” He shot her a look, but she kept going. “My implant has data with medical information stolen from the Enclave computer. I’m carrying a cure for The Virus.” She stared urgency at him, eyes widening.
“Oh bul―” He glared at her. Unable to find any trace of deceit in her face, he grumbled at the windshield. “If that’s bullshit, you must believe it.”
“It’s not.”
“You’re not a fuckin’ android are you?”
“No. Just tweaked. If I was an android, I’d have snapped the cord already.” As if on cue, her stomach growled. “Those bastards didn’t give me much food.”
“Great. I got some Enclave chick in my car that’s either batshit crazy, or has something so valuable the entire damn world is going to come after me for it.”
“Nobody knows. Not even the Council of Four. I escaped. They don’t want the cure getting out here.” She squirmed, twisting at her arms. “It’ll be easier if I can help.”
Kevin stared into the distance, tracking the orange sun as it slipped westward, into the teeth of the mountains. When he didn’t answer, Tris slumped in her seat with a sigh. As time dragged on, she alternated between seeming angry and terrified. Another attempt to brute-force her way to freedom left her sweating and out of breath.
Gloves creaked.
“You’ve been lonely for a long time, haven’t you? That other woman, the one who took your car, really hurt you.” She tried to make eye contact. “I’m not trying to manipulate you. I’m honestly frightened. You say you don’t trust me, but… How scary do you think it is for a girl to be helpless out here, stuck in a car with a man she doesn’t know who treats her like a piece of cargo? What if something happened to you?”
He let off the pedal; the car lost speed.
“You said you wanted to finish your food.” Her stomach growled again. “Was that the truth or did it really take me offering money for you to help?”
Ahead, he spotted the boxy shape of a white van that scavs hadn’t peeled to the frame yet crashed into the side of a small shack. Kevin pulled over a short distance away. He ran his thumb over the row of glowing blue rocker switches, turning them off. Wheel motors whined down to silence.
“Wait here. Van ain’t been stripped yet, might have something useful.”
“Did you help me, or did I change captors?”
He finally looked at her, but turned away from her pleading face after only a few seconds. “Name’s Kevin.”
He stood and walked off. Tris pulled her feet up and shimmied over the console to the driver’s side. She stumbled out of the car and caught her balance by leaning against the door.
“That was guilt, Kevin. You do have a soul. Please trust me, you’re my last chance.”
He stomped over to the van. All four wheel-motors had burned. What had once been solid rubber tires had become misshapen puddles of cooled material beneath char-blackened hubs. Bullet holes decorated the side, and the air around it smelled of singed meat. He climbed inside and searched a number of storage compartments for anything easy to scavenge. A shiny padlock secured one hatch―irresistible temptation.
Tris approached the open door, and bent forward to peer inside. “Kevin, come on. You’re a nice guy. You helped me. Cut me loose already.”
“You’re asking that too much, what do you really want?”
She stared at him, gawking. “Uhh, not to be helpless out here in the Wildlands. What kind of woman wants to be tied?”
“I can think of a handful.” He looked back long enough to wink.
Her face tinted rose. “Let me rephrase that. What kind of woman wants to be tied out in the middle of the Wildlands?”
Kevin stood up straight, pondering. “Okay, that narrows it to one.” He shivered. “Zephyra’s a bit of a freak.”
Tris screamed.
“Oh, will you knock it off.” He turned around to say more, but found her backpedaling into a full sprint. “What the?” He jumped out of the van, winding up within arm’s reach of two walking corpses.
At least, they looked, smelled, and groaned like walking corpses.
Large swaths of bruise and rot stained bloated, misshapen bodies greenish-purple. The one on the right had deteriorated further, having lost something quite dear to all men. Kevin gaped at the patch of exposed insides as some of the strength left his legs. It raised an arm and lurched forward. Eager grunts fired bloody pus from the nostrils.
Shit! Infected.
Kevin leapt backward. One of the creatures lurched at him, throwing its weight into a punch that tore a hole in the side of the van.
The other Infected took off at a rapid shamble after Tris, who sprinted down the road alternatively sobbing and calling Kevin an asshole as she tugged at her wrists.
The Infected in front of Kevin pulled its arm free with a groan of bending metal. It whipped itself sideways, sending an overextended haymaker at his head. Kevin’s hasty evasion took his legs out from under him. He fell flat and scrambled in a backward crab-walk for a few feet before flipping over and running to the road. Once he had the safety of about forty yards between him and a walking dead man, he sighted over the .45 at the
one chasing Tris, but changed his mind and aimed at the closer one. It gaped at him, snarling, yellow ooze seeping over its teeth as it stiff-legged its way toward him.
He waited another half second until he felt confident shooting it would not spatter any infected blood on the van. He wanted what was in that compartment, but wouldn’t go near it if even one droplet marred the paint. As soon as it reached the paving, he fired twice. Gore blew out from its back as a slug tore through its chest. The second shot caught it in the cheek, detonating the entire back portion of its head. The Infected took one more step, twitching arms grasping at the air, before dropping to its knees and falling to the road. The sight of its body rupturing mesmerized him in a fit of phobic tunnel vision. One drop… all it takes is one drop.
“Kevin!” Tris, somewhat distant, shouted.
He turned toward her and loosed a startled yelp as the other one jumped at him. The force of the hit knocked him to the ground. The creature pounced, grabbing his forearm and smashing his knuckles against the street until the gun bounced out of his grip. Kevin got a hand up, pushing at the squishy chest of the howling monstrosity. Rational thought evaporated in a desperate flailing fit to get away. It reared back, hauling him by the arms off the ground with enough force to swing him over its head. Kevin screamed as he hung suspended for a fraction of a second before the Infected slammed him down on his chest.
Stunned from the impact, he gasped for breath, catching a brief glimpse of Tris jogging closer between sparkling lights. One drop… One drop… He shrieked like a six-year-old boy waking from a nightmare and clawed at the dirt, trying to get away.
The creature pounded its fist into the back of his armor twice before it lifted him by the belt and threw him. Without the armored jacket, every rib in his chest would’ve been fragments. Kevin hit the ground in a flopping roll, unable to gain control of his momentum before he collided with the rear end of the van. A little distance muted panic. Shit, these fuckers are strong.
One More Run (Roadhouse Chronicles Book 1) Page 3
