Danielle shook her head, a somber expression on her face. “This building used ta be full. Damn near four hundred of us. Was a time no one had any privacy. I got settled in up here, no point movin’.”
“Damn.” Tris cringed. “All that stuff on the walls… I hope it’s true. I hope whoever made the Virus has to answer for it.”
Squeak.
Tris glanced to her right at the scrape of a metal door moving. Seconds later, a sleepy-eyed Kevin emerged from the corner with his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. He offered a lazy smile to Danielle and sidled up on Tris’s left.
“Hey… couldn’t sleep?”
She looked down. “No. Bad dreams.”
“Me too.” Kevin closed his eyes and yawned. “Keep seeing Infected coming after me.”
As if on cue, a moan rose up from the street level.
Tris stared at the wavering tomato plants for a few seconds as the breeze picked up.
Danielle sighed. “Star thinks they’re sick, and they’re not getting better because the factories that made band-aids are all gone.”
Kevin sent an awkward smile at the roof. “Okay… we can’t leave them here. This pathetic little garden won’t feed them much longer.”
“Aw, you go ta hell.” Danielle laughed. “Pathetic my ass.”
He grinned.
“Mommy,” yelled a small voice. “They’re coming up the stairs.”
Danielle whispered, “Sorry,” and hurried off to the little shed to calm the girl.
Kevin yawned and rested a hand atop the wall at the roof’s edge. Tris wrapped herself around his right arm and leaned her head on his shoulder. They gazed westward until the last traces of light sank into the horizon.
“Are you scared?” asked Tris.
He held up his left hand, which no longer shook. “Used ta be, the only thing I’d ever truly been afraid of was turning into one of those things.”
She slid a hand up his chest, under his jacket. “Used to be?”
“Yeah.” He pulled her close. “Now I’m afraid I’ll lose you.”
Tris sniffled. Emotion welled up inside, leaving her unable to decide between smiling and crying.
“For a while there, I was sure you were waiting for a chance to sneak off with my car.” He leaned down, close enough for his breath to fill her mouth. “You did steal from me, but it wasn’t my car.”
“Kevin…” She closed her eyes and kissed him.
The wind blew his hair into her face, hers back in a wild spray of white. She kissed him as if tomorrow would be their last day on Earth. She trembled.
“What’s wrong?” whispered Kevin, into her ear.
“I don’t want to lose you.”
He smiled as if he tried to sell her a used car that would fall apart an hour after it drove off the lot. “I promise I won’t do anything stupid.”
“You already have.” She clung to him and closed her eyes. “We should try and sleep.”
“Yeah… try.”
He stooped and picked her up. Tris grinned at the memory of hopping after him with her ankles tied together. How had she gone from wanting to beat the shit out of him to feeling like she couldn’t live without him? Maybe humanity did have a chance.
Strange things happen. That’s what Doctor Andrews always said…
evin’s eyes popped open. Early morning sunlight striking the tinted office windows turned the drop ceiling tiles pale blue. Tris, naked, lay half on top of him, face down and one leg up. She’d been right. Her suggestion for a way to be able to sleep had worked perfectly. Aware that at any moment, someone might walk by, he jostled her awake.
“Get dressed,” he whispered.
Tris yawned and stretched before crawling over his body again and kissing him.
Kevin wrapped his arms around her back and held her as she nibbled at his lips and entwined her tongue with his. He slid his hands down her back and cradled her ass. Time lost meaning as they writhed together, kissing and fondling. Whenever he played with her breasts, she bit him to muffle her squeals. Sensing weakness, he gave her nipple a light pinch and tickle.
Kevin gasped as her teeth nearly drew blood. “Aaaah.”
She moved her mouth to the base of his neck and kissed there.
“We’re out in the open,” he whispered. “They’re expecting us to head out first light…”
Blushing lent a touch of color to her face, darker around her nose. She bit her index finger. “I don’t care if you don’t care.”
Kevin shrugged.
With that, she adjusted her position and lowered herself onto him. Kevin tried to stifle gasps and moans as she raised and lowered herself. She bent forward, grasped his shoulders, and stared down a tunnel of snowy hair into his eyes. They spent a few more minutes kissing before she sat up straight again and moaned. Kevin held her by the hips, thrusting upward in time with her gyrations. Eventually, she threw her head back in a waterfall of white. He slid both hands up over her stomach and cradled her breasts, squeezing her nipples between his fingers.
Tris shuddered. His eyes rolled up into his head as his body convulsed out of control. Once the moment of ecstasy passed, she fell limp on top of him, out of breath. He stroked her hair for a little while until the bang of a metal door in the hallway startled her into motion.
She leapt off him and raced to get her panties on. Kevin pulled his boxers in place before standing. Tris grabbed her jeans and jumped into them while Kevin stretched.
Dennis stepped around the cube partition and froze with his gaze on Tris’s bare chest. He coughed, whirled around, and ducked out of sight. “Sorry.”
“My fault.” Tris cringed at the sight of her bloody leather shirt, but put it on anyway.
Kevin slipped into his eagle tee and covered it as fast as he could with the armored jacket. “All clear.”
Dennis approached, keeping his gaze on the floor. “Sorry about that. I should’ve expected you two would, umm, yeah. Anyway… Three volunteers offered to go with you.”
“Your eye twitched,” said Tris. “What are you hiding?”
“Sharp.” Dennis chuckled. “Nothing much. There were five, but I asked Paul and Cody to stay here. They’re not in a good state of mind.”
“No way on the kid,” said Kevin. “You think Paul’s unstable?”
“Not really. My sentimental side. I’d rather he be alive to get back to his kid. It wasn’t easy on him putting her on that bus. It’s been killing him ever since.”
“Yeah.” Kevin grabbed the Enclave rifle. “Faster we get moving, faster we get outta here.”
Dennis led the way downstairs to the cafeteria area where all twenty-eight survivors gathered. Paul came rushing at them, red-faced, finger poised.
Kevin intercepted him before he could get to Dennis. “I’m sorry, Zoe. Your father’s dead.”
Paul stared at him as if he’d whipped it out and pissed on him.
“Exactly,” said Kevin. “Because I don’t want to have to say that, your ass is staying here.”
“Look.” Paul seemed to calm a little. “I can’t just sit here like some little child myself and be saved. What kind of dad wouldn’t do everything he could to get back to his kid?”
Kevin looked at Dennis and shrugged. “Whatever, man. Come on. You got a weapon?”
Paul ran off. “Yeah, be right back.”
Danielle brought over two plastic plates of tomato slices and green beans, handing one to Kevin and one to Tris. After the meager, but welcome offering, Kevin headed for the stairwell and down to the fifth floor, where they’d climbed in the window. Patricia, as well as the two men who’d helped him climb in, stood guard in the windows while three other men sat at a long folding table and checked over weapons.
A bony guy with short black hair and a thin moustache in a tank top and camo fatigues loaded a 40mm shell into a grenade launcher attachment on his M-16. At his right, a stocky man with long brown hair snapped buckshot shells into a SPAS-12. The pockets of his olive drab trenc
h coat swelled with extra ammo. On the near side of the table stood a dark-skinned man with an afro many months devoid of any attempt at maintaining it. His ordinary sneakers, jeans, and plain white tee shirt made him seem like he’d fallen through a time hole from before the war. Only the silver Desert Eagle on his belt seemed to belong in this damned new world. A leather bandolier over his chest held about ten more magazines. He looked up at them and offered a nod.
Dennis moved past Kevin and spun to face him. “I can’t tell you how grateful we all are that you’re willing to do this for us. It’s been… hell being stuck here. We’re all hoping you can get one of those old buses to work.”
“Gee… no pressure at all.” Kevin smiled.
“Heh.” Dennis chuckled. “This is Gene.” The man with the M-16 waved. “Martin.” The long-haired man flared his eyebrows up twice, with a manic ‘lets do this’ expression. “And Rod.” The man with the Desert Eagle nodded. “Rod was with us the last time we went to the depot. He knows the best route.”
Kevin hurled a playful accusatory glance at Tris. “I’m sure you all have been dealing with these damn things for a long time too, but I’d appreciate it if we tried to stay as quiet as possible. If we see Infected, but they don’t see us… don’t blow their heads off. Gunshots will attract more.”
Paul ran in holding an Mp5, with a black hip satchel clattering at his side. He’d changed into an almost complete grey-white city camouflage uniform.
“Paul.” Kevin shook his hand. “Bear with me here; I’m saying this to make myself feel better. The Infected are not undead. They are alive. One bullet to the heart will put them down.”
The men offered murmurs of agreement and nods.
“Sometimes when you’ve got a choice between shitting your pants and going full auto, full auto happens,” said Paul.
Kevin walked to the window. “Yeah, I understand that. I’d prefer we got there without a shot being fired.”
Marty racked the pump grip on the SPAS, and locked it forward. “You know that ain’t happening.”
“Didn’t you hear? I’m an optimist.” Kevin held his hands up to the sides and winked at Tris.
He slipped up and over the windowsill amid subdued laughter. The flexible ladder rattled and swayed on his climb to street level. Before anything else, he paced a circuit around the Challenger and breathed a sigh of relief that nothing had bothered it during the night. One by one, the others came down and formed up in the small parking lot.
Tris tugged on the handle to the passenger door. When it didn’t budge, she flashed an expectant look. Kevin walked up to her and hovered nose to nose with her, smiling.
After a light peck, he kissed her ear, and whispered, “4-1-9-4 to open. Push 0 and 9 together to lock it.”
She gave him a quick hug. Kevin swallowed a tiny hint of fear that he’d set in motion a chain of events that would culminate with being tied naked to a cactus again, without a car. He forced the worry out of his mind and jogged over to Rod.
“What’s the best way there? Long enough to drive it?”
Rod frowned. “The roads got junk all troo ‘em. A bus’ll push crap out its way, but that nice ol’ car o’ yours ain’t doin’. We make it on foot jus’ fine. Take ‘bout forty minutes.”
Thump. Kevin looked up as the car door closed. Tris jogged up to the huddle with her AK across her back on its strap, and the katana out.
“What?” She shrugged. “You said you wanted quiet.”
Marty loosed a wistful sigh. “I used to have a claymore.”
“Damn stupid to get close to them.” Gene held the M-16 up in one hand. “Prefer working at a distance.”
Kevin bowed to Rod. “Your show. Lead the way.”
Rod walked out of the lot and crossed the street, headed generally south and west. Despite his request for quiet, Kevin held the Enclave rifle at the ready. The ghosts of a once-thriving city echoed in the back of his mind as his brain tried to fill in for the lack of noise. He imagined a place like this would never have been so quiet, even in the dead of night. Hundreds of cars littered the streets, undisturbed since their former owners last touched them before the world went up in flames. Windows coated in rain-hardened silt hid whatever secrets lay within under a shell of death.
He edged away from the sides of the road and walked the centerline. Any of that muck could’ve been nuclear fallout. Heck, most of it probably was. Fifty years didn’t seem like a whole lot of time for radiation to go away, but Wayne had seemed convinced the danger of fallout particles abated after only a couple weeks. What the hell happened in Dallas then?
Marty swung his shotgun left and right as they passed side streets and alleys, looking eager to kill something. Paul started off bringing up the rear, but Gene faded back enough to give him some protection. After fifteen minutes of walking, Tris slid the katana into the sheath and flexed her hands.
The eeriness of an empty city seemed to press in on him. Dripping water and the rustle of unseen small animals kept everyone jumping and spinning at the slightest noise. Rod took a right turn, following another street west until tall buildings gave way to a more residential looking section with nothing over four stories. Minutes later, he went south again onto a road littered with cars. Some had been flipped upside down, others lay on their sides, and many had hundreds of bullet holes in them.
“What the fuck?” whispered Kevin.
Gene quickened his step, getting close enough to speak in a low tone. “Pre-infected territory war. Three gangs went at it for about two years. Ugly time. Course… makes ya wonder if it’s better than this.”
“Turf war is easier to deal with than Infected.” Kevin jumped at a moving shadow in a trash-strewn alley. “City’s so damn big, what was the point of fighting?”
“People who have power always want more,” whispered Tris.
Gene chuckled. “Nah, nothin’ that highbrow. I think someone tried to put ketchup on a hot dog.”
“Huh?” Kevin blinked.
“Aw shit.” Gene laughed. “You ain’t from around here are ya?”
“Nope. New Mexico.”
“Damn. What the hell made you come all the way out here?” Gene whistled.
“A blue-eyed blonde.” Kevin glanced at Paul. And two thousand coins.
Rod climbed over a roadblock of orange plastic construction barricades, causing sand to leak out of numerous bullet holes. The others followed. Minutes shy of an hour after leaving the building, Rod came to a halt at a corner and pointed at a wide chain link rolling gate at the end of a short section of road. Two coils of razor wire ran along the top, connected to a tangle of more razor wire perched on a security guard’s booth at the left side of the driveway. Beyond the fence, eleven white metro-buses parked in a neat row in front of a one-story Transit Authority building. Solar panels covered the roof, and all three garage doors were closed.
“We’re here,” said Rod. “I’m impressed. Quiet worked.”
“We didn’t see anything to shoot at,” said Marty, sounding disappointed.
Kevin jogged down the approach road, weaving between rows of water-filled barrels set up as a defensive fortification. With any luck, one of the flat-fronted e-buses could push through them. As expected, the outer door on the security booth was locked. He jiggled the knob out of annoyance and hit the blue painted metal door with a light punch. “Dammit. Rod, how’d you get in last time?”
“Door was open last time. We slammed it runnin’ away from Infected.” He offered a weak smile.
“Wonderful.” Kevin sighed at the clouds.
“Break the window out?” said Paul.
“I got it.” Tris took a knee by the door and fiddled with her left shoe. She pulled a pair of small metal rods out of the heel and stuck them in the keyhole. “Try to stay quiet so I can listen.”
“You’re full of surprises,” whispered Kevin. “Where’d you learn that?”
Tris emitted a sad sigh. “I was trained for the resistance, remember?”
&
nbsp; She picked the lock in about forty seconds and stashed the tools back in her shoe sole. As soon as she opened the door, a rotting body in a security guard uniform moaned and reached for her from the ground.
Tris’s arms blurred. The katana went from the scabbard on her back to pointing down and to the left in the span of a camera flash. A severed head hit the ground with a hollow clonk. She’d cut it at the level of the mouth, leaving a bit of chin and jawbone attached to the larger portion of corpse.
“Fuckin’ A,” said Marty.
“What was that?” asked Paul. “She some kinda android?”
“No. Don’t call her an android again, or she’ll cut your balls off.” Kevin smiled.
“I will not,” Tris muttered while wiping blood from the blade on the dead man’s shirt. “Don’t touch the blood.”
“No kidding.” Kevin took a long step over the body.
The interior door of the booth opened with ease, and he jogged up to the first bus in line. Over the next hour, he went from bus to bus, finding them all stone dead. The massive vehicles filled him with daydreams of creating the Marauder II. The tires came up to his chest; he thought of all the armor he could pile on a beast like this. Nothing would stop it once it got rolling. He’d be a wildlands juggernaught. As awesome as it could be, he’d still rather ‘sell fried potatoes to morons.’ Some looked as though they’d been pressed into service during the gang warfare, and bore numerous scars from pipe bombs, bullets, flames, and full-on collisions.
Kevin surveyed all eleven buses, disregarding four off the bat as unrecoverable. Of the three in the best outward condition, one had a small army of dead Infected hanging on spiked armor plates all the way around it. That one, he wanted nothing to do with. The next best bus, in terms of a lack of outward damage, turned out to have taken a hit from an explosive in the left rear, which exposed most of the inner workings of the biggest in-wheel motor he’d ever seen.
His last, best, hope had four intact wheels, but the ass end looked like a work of modern art. No less than ninety silver circles surrounded finger-sized holes where black paint had flaked away at the impact of a bullet. Cringing at what he’d see inside, Kevin grabbed the hatch release and opened the rear panel.
One More Run (Roadhouse Chronicles Book 1) Page 39
