One More Run (Roadhouse Chronicles Book 1)

by Matthew S. Cox

  Tris squirmed. “I dunno. Maybe…”―she clasped a hand behind her left ear―“maybe as soon as they tried to get the data out.”

  “If I ever see that bastard again, I’ll tear his head off with my bare hands.” Bill clenched his fingers as if squeezing the life out of the air.

  “The Infected didn’t kill him?” Kevin raised an eyebrow.

  Ann opened an orange plastic container and dumped a brown glop into a pot, which she set on a hot plate. Soon, the smell of beef stew flavored the air.

  The little girl continued staring into Kevin’s soul. Had she even blinked once?

  “No. Damndest thing.” Bill shook his head. “They walked past him like he wasn’t there.”

  “He was one of them.” Tris rubbed her arms, as if trying to warm her hands. “When he fell, he probably got the Virus in his system where he cut his leg. Unless falling was a lie. If he got too much in his blood fast enough, he might’ve gone to stage one in only a few hours.”

  “Stage one?” asked Bill.

  “Still in possession of most of his mental faculties, but having lost any sense of humanity. Enough of a brain left to think tactically.” Tris shivered.

  Kevin put a hand on his stomach, not sure if he remained hungry. “That’s some scary shit. You’re suggesting the Infected got him, and he knew they were… ‘frustrated’ at not being able to get into the resistance compound? So they somehow compelled him to open the door?”

  “Some of the things we’ve seen suggests a hive intelligence.” Bill leaned back in the chair. “Socrates told me it was one of the reasons the people all migrated here from Boulder about four years back.”

  “Socrates?” Kevin glanced at him, then at the little girl. “What’s the deal with the kid? Or am I hallucinating her?”

  “Yeah, they got to callin’ him Socrates since he’s one of the smarter people around here. That’s Zoe.” Bill held out an arm as if to invite the girl into a hug. She pushed herself off the wall and approached, rigid―and still staring at Kevin―as Bill cuddled her. “I found her on my way here. Wound up takin’ her in.”

  “Guess she’s not much for conversation.” Kevin smiled at her, though the child’s blank stare remained. He couldn’t handle the thought of what she must’ve seen, and looked away.

  “Sometimes.” Ann set a steaming bowl of stew down in front of Kevin, and another near Tris.

  “Electric stove, nice.” Kevin dug in.

  “We got some solars scavved outta Boulder. With the ammo you brought in, we’ll be able to head up there and collect a bunch more stuff.”

  “So the Resistance got out?” Tris cradled the bowl to warm her hands. “Are they all here?”

  “Nah.” Bill shook his head. “Jeffries sorta killed Doc Andrews’ spirit. Those that survived scattered to the winds. I honestly couldn’t tell ya where anyone of them went ‘cept for the handful that followed me here. It isn’t a glorious life, but it’s rewarding.” He smiled at Ann, who sat in his lap.

  Zoe seemed to ‘tolerate’ Bill’s arm around her back, neither comforted nor bothered by it. Still, she stared with pale blue eyes at Kevin. Not blinking, not speaking, not smiling, not frowning. He stopped eating for another moment and watched her, waiting for her to blink.

  She didn’t.

  Tris pushed stew around her bowl.

  Kevin slid his arm out across the table and held her hand. “Hey…”

  “Am I supposed to just give up? Wander around never knowing if the cure is in my head?” Tris’s lip quivered. “I believed him. I… really thought I could play some little part in stopping the Virus.”

  Zoe broke her unending stare at Kevin to peer at Tris for a few seconds.

  “There’s a guy in Omaha who can probably get at it,” said Bill.

  Tris’s gaze shot up. “Where?”

  Ann stood and collected Kevin’s empty bowl. “Dear, you should eat that before it gets cold.”

  “Sorry.” Tris shoveled stew into her face.

  “Omaha,” said Bill. “Far about east of here. Came through it on our way outta Harrisburg. Guy lives inside an old airplane. Whole place is overgrown now, but he’s got quite the collection of computer equipment. If I’d seen anyone left on this Earth who might have a chance at getting into your head, it’d be him.”

  “Got a name?” asked Kevin.

  Tris shot him an adoring look.

  “Called himself ‘Terminal9.’” Bill chuckled. “Probably because that’s where he lives.”

  “What about Infected?” Kevin squeezed Tris’s hand. “Omaha was a pretty damn big city.”

  “Not every city is loaded with them,” Tris mumbled around a mouthful of food. “Look at Dallas.”

  “Nothing lives in Dallas… except maybe the cockroaches.” Kevin rubbed his eyes. He glanced at Zoe for a second before smiling at Bill. “Sorry… You said something about sleep?”

  I’m going to have nightmares about that kid.

  Tris got up to carry her empty bowl to the sink, but Ann got in the way. She surrendered it, offering a thankful smile.

  “You two can take the loft. I’ll get Zoe set up in the spare room.” Bill stood.

  “No… it’s okay.” Kevin smiled. “She looks like she’s been through enough. The spare room is fine.”

  “Bed’s a little small for two, but if you want.” Bill gave Ann a wink.

  “It’s fine.” Tris looked around. “Where?”

  Bill showed them to a small room in the rear left corner of the house, adjacent to the bathroom. Pea green walls surrounded a single twin bed, a small nightstand, a desk, and a throw rug decorated with Native American patterns. Zoe stood in the doorway of the kitchen, staring at Kevin until he pushed the door closed and turned around.

  He shook his head. “Wow… poor kid.”

  Tris put her sword between the bed and the wall and stripped down to her panties. Kevin undressed except for his boxers and kept the .45 with him under the pillow. As soon as he settled down, he startled at the sight of the door open two inches. He raised his head to look and found Zoe peeking in. The child stared at him for a full minute in silence.

  “Your gun’s not big enough,” whispered Zoe. She lingered a second more and pulled the door closed.

  “Ohhh-kay.” Kevin blinked. “So much for sleep.”

  Kevin worked a pump handle, filling a ten-gallon white plastic bucket. He sucked at his teeth, trying to pry dense nuggets of homemade toast dough from among his molars. Sunlight filtered in wavering patches among the stand of trees that formed a wall to the southwest of Bill’s house. Over breakfast, he’d come to learn Ann owned the place. She’d lived in Ned prior to the influx of Boulderites.

  His prediction had come half-true. He had slept, though not well. Dreams composed of either Infected or creepy-Zoe stalking him played on loop all night. Once, he’d startled awake with the girl straddling him, seconds from plunging a knife into his chest. His scream was real, but the girl a product of his subconscious. The oddity of dreaming that he woke up lingered even now, hours past breakfast. Coupled with his fatigue, he wasn’t sure if he really did wake up.

  Bucket full, he carried it back around the house to where he’d parked. The windows were dark and empty, though whenever he looked forward, he thought he saw Zoe watching him from one out of the corner of his eye. Each time he snapped his head left, she vanished. What the hell is wrong with that kid? Am I seeing shit?

  At the corner, he almost walked into Bill coming the other way. Kevin let off a yelp as if the Infected had ambushed him. Water splashed on both men.

  “Shit. Sorry.” Kevin closed his eyes and tried to calm his heart rate. “Didn’t hear you.”

  Bill chuckled. “Rough trip in? You see anything moving around Boulder?”

  “Nah. Empty and eerie. Like everyone just picked up and left.” Kevin carried the bucket to the car.

  “That’s because they did.” Bill followed and leaned on the wall next to the garage door, arms folded. “Catchin�
� nomad attacks from the north and the occasional run by the Infected from the south. Boulder was wide open. Much easier to defend Ned.”

  Kevin took a small cup and used it to pour water over the tires, cleaning the nooks and crannies of the tread. I don’t see blood, but I don’t trust it.

  “Ran one over?”

  “Yeah.” He stood and twisted around to look at Bill. “What do you think are the odds the data in her head’s any good?”

  Bill curled his lips in, exposing a thin sliver of teeth for a second. “Hard to say. Our man inside said he thought the data was good. Not Nathan. Someone he didn’t know about.”

  “As far as you know. Might’ve been all part of the plan.” Kevin got down on his knees and threw cupful after cupful of water at the undercarriage. “Don’t s’pose there’s any chance you got any kind of disinfectant?”

  “Got bleach.” Bill lifted his right leg, bracing his boot against the wall. “It’s possible they were arrogant enough to let it out. They made the Virus, so it stands to reason they know how to stop it, assuming they aren’t complete morons. They’d have to plan for the contingency of a backfire, and how to cure their own people if something went wrong.”

  “Nathan looked that arrogant.” Kevin wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm.

  “I bet they never thought we’d have the equipment to produce any form of usable medicine from it too.”

  “Yeah. From what Tris says, they think everything outside their nice little paradise is all a bunch of painted savages running around raping and killing everything that moves.”

  “Some places ain’t too far off from that. Blood Flag nomads out here, and there’s a couple bands in the deep woods ‘round the Appalachians that’d flip a coin to decide if they wanna eat or try to impregnate you.”

  Kevin shook water out of the cup and threw it back in the trunk. “Seems like an awful lot of trouble to go to in order to kill ‘the resistance.’ What’s the Enclave afraid of?”

  Bill shrugged. “That, I can’t answer. You’d have to ask Doctor Andrews.”

  Tris lifted a large steel bowl off the electric heating element, leaning her face away from the plume of steam wafting from the top. She poured it over the breakfast dishes piled in the sink, loosing the smell of pan-fried ham and eggs in the air. Ann worked a cloth around the table, eventually gathering a handful of crumbs and food bits in her hand as she pulled the rag off the edge. Zoe sat, staring at Tris, still with a half-eaten ham steak in front of her on a plate.

  “You really didn’t have to do that.” Ann glanced at Tris while patting Zoe on the head. “Finish your food, sweetie. There’s kids starving out there who’d love to have it.”

  Tris expected Zoe to say something like ‘well they can have it,’ but the girl grabbed the meat in her hands and chewed on it. Ann made a face, but seemed content enough that the child ate not to bother her about how.

  “You wouldn’t let us pay you for the food… I don’t want to be a mooch.” Tris used a rag that had once been a shirt to wash dishes. “I’m surprised really. It’s almost comfortable here.”

  “We’re lucky. Nederland isn’t fancy, but it’s safe.”

  Tris looked up as Kevin passed by the window outside, carrying a bucket, white as a sheet. Zoe’s reflection glared at Ann, an apparent reaction to ‘safe.’ Something’s really bothering him.

  “The two of you should consider settling in. There’s plenty of unused buildings.” Ann tossed the rag on the counter and reached to shut off a circuit breaker where the hot plate plugged in. “Gotta save power. The batteries only go so far, and the wiring goes down every couple of days.”

  “What’ll you do if the solar panels fail or the battery gives out?” Tris handed Ann a clean plate.

  Ann dried it. “I suppose it’ll be back to wood fires for cooking. Our farm’s doing well. People lived long before we knew about electricity. We’ll figure something out. It’s nice here. A good place to raise a family.”

  Zoe shoved away from the table and stormed off down the hall, stomping.

  Tris watched her until the girl slipped out of sight into a doorway down the hall. “That poor kid.”

  “She got separated from her father a few months ago. Bill found her wandering alone when he made his way down from the east. Poor thing was half dead from starvation.” Ann leaned on the counter, head down. “It’s a miracle nothing worse happened to her.”

  “Yeah.” Images from the ‘historic documentaries’ replayed in her head, hinting at the sort of depravity that the Enclave believed to exist. This little town wasn’t part of that world. “It’s sweet of you to take her in. I hope she heals.”

  Ann looked up, seeming sad. “Me too. You really ought to stay here. Pretty, delicate girls like you don’t last long out there.”

  Tris winked. “I’m not as delicate as I look.”

  ith the Challenger as clean as possible, and the scent of bleach stuck in his nostrils, Kevin carried the bucket of dirty water a short distance away to dump it. Bill hopped on his bike to go check the status of ‘the count.’ After he stowed the cleaning supplies in the trunk and slammed the lid, Kevin tromped up the small porch and kicked dirt off his boots on the edge of the top step. Inside, Ann and Tris stood by the sink, chatting over dishes. He took a deep breath, filled with the scent of the great breakfast they’d enjoyed, and found himself salivating.

  “Bill went to check up on the ammo.” Kevin pulled a chair out.

  “Oh, no you don’t.” Tris threw a rag at him. “You’re not going to watch the women do dishes. Get your ass over here and help.”

  He chuckled. “Okay, okay.”

  Zoe’s shrill scream emanated from the back end of the house.

  Ann looked in that direction, worry evident on her face.

  “I got it. My hands are dry.” Kevin shoved the chair against the table. “Probably saw a spider or something.”

  He jogged into the hallway. Three strides from the ladder leading to the loft, the report of a rifle going off upstairs pounded his ears. Kevin stumbled into the wall and rushed forward. The gun fired three more times while he hurried up the red-painted wooden ladder. Little Zoe, barefoot in a denim dress, knelt by the windowsill of her bedroom, aiming a full sized AR-15 over the sill.

  Outside, a man screamed.

  Another voice shouted, “Dammit, kid. Drop the friggin’ gun. I don’t wanna shoot a little girl.”

  The same voice that screamed in pain shouted, “Kill the bitch.”

  Kevin grabbed the top of the ladder, about to haul himself into the loft. Zoe shifted left and aimed down at a sharp angle, firing three more times. Spent brass bounced off the wall; one landed in a crystal bowl full of pink barrettes with a clink.

  “Bad guy inside!” yelled Zoe. She yelped and aimed higher, firing every four or five seconds.

  A man in a vest made of tire treads and leather scraps over black military fatigues crept by in the hall right below. He aimed a boxy assault rifle toward the kitchen, and cast a quick glance at the ladder, evidently trying to sneak up on the armed child from behind. At the sight of Kevin, he yelled, “Shit!” and swung his rifle around.

  Kevin dove from the loft, tackling the man into the wall and shoving him to the ground. Gunfire popped and snapped outside, distant as well as nearby. A smash announced the front door failing to a boot.

  “Don’t move, ladies,” yelled a different man. “Coins, ammo, and food. Take it easy. We ain’t here for women. Hand over the pistol, nice and slow.”

  Kevin snarled as he wrestled for control of the rifle. The man kicked his legs in an effort to roll over on top, but Kevin reared up and slugged the raider in the head four times, leaving him dazed.

  “P-please d-don’t rape us,” mewled Tris.

  Oh boy, someone’s about to have a bad fuckin’ day. Kevin sat up on his knees and wrenched the rifle away from the semiconscious thug. A second after he knocked the man out with a golf club like swing, a staccato slap of fist-on-me
at came from the kitchen.

  “Ay, Dios mio!” yelled Ann.

  Thud.

  Footsteps approaching from behind halted with a rapport of a 5.56 from upstairs. Kevin whirled around, aiming out the back door at a twenty-something woman in similar armor made of old tires. She fell on one knee, screaming from a bullet wound in the thigh. Kevin gave her a ‘don’t’ look. One of these days I’m gonna get killed for hesitating at killing a chick.

  “Drop the gun, bitch,” yelled Zoe. The child shrieked as a few gunshots boomed outside.

  Snaps and pops came from overhead, bullets piercing the wall. Kevin fired over the woman’s head, a near miss on the trunk of a tree forced three men to duck―and stop shooting at Zoe.

  The dirt-smeared face of the woman less than ten yards from the porch ran with sweat. A rifle went off in the kitchen.

  “Zoe!” Ann shrieked and sprinted down the hall to the ladder.

  “What the fuck is going on?” yelled Kevin.

  The armored woman looked at her bleeding leg for a second before falling face-first to the ground. More men shouted outside, and a ripple of rapid gunshots preceded the ping of bullets striking large boulders in the dirt hill behind the house. Kevin jumped to his feet, a quick glance to his right confirmed Tris unhurt and braced against the doorjamb in front, shooting at a target outside with what appeared to be an FN-FAL rifle. Whatever it was, it looked far older than the one Kevin grabbed.

  He rushed left, heading for the back door. Bill, Brett, and about eight others including Emma, the young girl he’d seen at the gate, advanced on the pines. The thirteen-year-old crept through the weeds like a trained soldier, AK leading the way. She swiveled at something, fired twice, and made a hand signal at one of the men who scurried in a wide flanking jog.

  “I’m okay,” yelled Zoe, sounding petulant. “They shot my room.”

  Kevin ran out the back door, hooked a right, and took cover at the corner of the house. The attacking force retreated back up and over the long ridge. More pops and snaps echoed in the forest from bullets holing tree trunks or striking rocks. When a beefy figure reared up from behind a boulder as big as a compact car with a grenade in his hand, Kevin fired twice. The bandit shuddered and went over backward. After a six count, and no explosion, Kevin ran up on him, still aiming at the man’s head.