Three men emerged from the building. The eldest appeared close to forty, with black hair so short it resembled motor oil smeared on his scalp. He dressed like a relic from the military: full camo. The other two were young enough to be his sons, but looked nothing like him. Both younger men had flannel shirts and jeans. One of the twenty-somethings smiled and waved.
Kevin stood. “Hey. Got that shipment from Wayne’s.”
“You’re a lifesaver.” The older man approached in three clean strides and extended a hand. “I’m Bill. This here’s Pete and Brett.”
The two younger men nodded in time with their names.
“Kevin.” He shook. “That’s Tris. Nice little town ya got here.”
“Eh.” Bill let his arm fall at his side. “Isn’t what it used to be, but we’re managing. Between the zombies and the damn bandits, it’s getting rough.”
“They’re not zombies,” said Tris. “Infected are technically alive.”
Bill patted a black rubberized handle on his left hip. “If I ram this through someone’s chest, do you think they’d care if I call it a machete or a gladius?”
Tris’s eyebrows formed a flat line. “That’s an oversimplification. You don’t need to shoot Infected in the brain to kill them. There are meaningful differences.”
“Where’d you find her?” asked Bill. “She sounds familiar.”
“Vasquez?” Tris edged closer. “Your hair was longer.”
Bill pointed at her. “You’re the one they were sending…”
“Whoa.” Kevin hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “You two know each other?”
Tris looked back and forth from Bill to Kevin for a few seconds. “H-he was supposed to be with the resistance in Harrisburg.”
“I was there.” Bill glanced at Kevin. “Trunk?”
“Yeah.” Kevin leaned into the Challenger and hit the release button before closing the door.
“What happened?” Tris clenched her hands into fists. “We got there and it looked like everyone died.”
“I’ll explain later,” said Bill. “You two look worn out.”
“How many boxes is it?” asked Brett.
Tris covered her mouth with both hands, trembling―though she seemed more freaked out and angry rather than frightened.
Kevin held his hands about four feet apart. “One big one.”
Pete and Brett followed, extracting the box of ammo after Kevin lifted the trunk lid. They grunted from the weight and shuffled only two steps away before setting it down on the road. Bill walked up as they opened it and did a quick visual check of numerous small boxes of bullets. As often as hand loaders re-used old ammo cartons, he doubted the labels matched the contents.
“Looks good, but we’ll need to give it a thorough count.” Bill gestured at the two younger men, indicating they should bring the ammo into the building. “You two are welcome to spend the night at with me an’ the wife if you want.”
Kevin squinted at the fast-departing box of ammo. “I’m s’posed ta pick up the payment. 5000 coins.”
Bill hooked a thumb on his belt. “Understood. You don’t think we’d risk getting on the ‘house’s bad side?”
Kevin half-smiled and tapped the tip of his boot on the ground. “Ain’t the ‘house’s backside I’m worrying about.”
“Heh, fair enough. Guess you aren’t too quick to trust people.”
Tris folded her arms. “Takes him awhile.”
“Was gonna bring out the boxes once we’d finished counting bullets.”
Kevin gestured at him. “Why don’t we count coins while you count bullets?”
“No need, friend.” Bill grinned. “We don’t got much use for coins out this way. Most of what we use, we find… what little else we barter for. They’re still bank-wrapped. Two $25 boxes of pennies.”
“Dammit.” Kevin suppressed the urge to snarl. “It’s supposed to be five thousand, not fifty.”
Tris giggled.
“What?” Kevin stared at her.
“A hundred pennies to a dollar. Twenty-five dollars is 2500 pennies.”
“Oh.” He rubbed his face. “Damn complicated prewar money.”
“Coins are coins. You need some sleep. Head straight on down the road past this place ‘till ya see a red house on the left by a row of pine trees. That’s my place. I’ll be right behind you.” Bill jogged past the front doors of the building and pulled a mountain bike away from the wall.
Kevin didn’t move until Tris pushed him back to the car. He took a left out of the parking lot, driving deeper into town on the same road they’d come in on. Less than a minute later, a little dirt ramp led off the road on his side, by a red brick house with an angled roof. Lights inside revealed the shadows of at least one person moving around.
He pulled up by a battered garage door and shut down the car. Tris’s right leg bounced. She seemed markedly less tired than before. Kevin didn’t feel like walking up to a strange house; that’s a good way to get shot. Within a few minutes, Bill arrived. The mechanism of his ten-speed emitted a ratcheting click as he slowed and pulled up to the porch left of the garage. Kevin got out, giving the door enough of a shove to close with a gentle thump behind him.
Bill led the way into a small kitchen where a brown-skinned woman with black hair, about Bill’s age, sat at a rectangular table covered with a blue-white checkered cloth. She gave them a cursory glance before cocking an eyebrow at Bill. Kevin looked around, feeling out of place in such a normal setting. Replace the half-dozen candles with electric lights, and it might’ve been possible to forget a war had happened at all.
A little girl of about nine stood in an open doorway leading into the next room. Blonde and blue-eyed, she looked nothing like Bill or the woman. A threadbare pink tee shirt, sized for a woman, but with the neck sewn smaller to turn it into a nightgown, hung from a bony figure. Her right big toe poked out of a hole in olive-drab socks. The girl stared at him, face neutral, not blinking.
“This is my wife, Ann.” Bill gestured between them. “Kevin, Tris… driver who brought in the ammo.”
“Oh. Wonderful.” The woman smiled. Her English had a trace of Spanish in it. “Have you had anything to eat?”
Kevin’s stomach answered for him. “Uhh, no. Not yet.”
“We’ll give you fair coin for some food.” Tris smiled.
“Oh, nothin’ doin’.” Ann pointed at chairs. “You’re guests. Sit. Besides, they’d just collect dust in a drawer somewhere. We don’t really use coins here.”
“You don’t?” asked Kevin, eyebrow up.
Bill grinned. “We don’t leave Ned much. No need. That’s mostly for inter-town trading and people like you who never sleep in the same bed twice.”
Kevin eased himself into a white-painted chair he feared would break if he put all his weight on it. He laced his fingers together and rested his hands on the table. “Food sounds awesome. Thanks.”
Tris sat catty-corner to him on the right. The smile she gave him said she had to be thinking about his recent doubts about humanity. “Thank you, Ann.” She fixed Bill with a stare as he sat across from her. “So, what happened in Harrisburg?”
The child didn’t move from her spot. Kevin locked eyes with her. He shrugged and mouthed ‘what?’, but the girl didn’t react.
Note. Keep the matches away from that one.
“We figured we were relatively safe underground there. The Infected hadn’t worked out how to use ladders. Most of ‘em couldn’t handle the idea of lifting manhole covers. They’re pretty stupid.”
“Not completely.” Kevin rubbed his arm. “One of them knew enough to disarm me once. They understand what guns are.”
“I’ve never seen that.” Bill scratched his cheek.
“Might’ve been recently infected,” said Tris. “Still had a bit of higher brain function left.”
Bill picked at a gouge in the table. “Anyway, about a day after Nathaniel told us you were on your way”―Tris scowled―“Jeffries stumbled into the
command room. He’d been out on sentry watch, and said the floor gave out from under him. His leg was all tore up. Couple of hours later, he crawls to his feet and staggers off down the hall, we think ta hit the shitter, but he kept on going. That old sewer had a street level access point about a quarter mile away. Son of a bitch Jeffries went right to it and tore out the barricades. He opened the damn doors up and let the Infected walk right in.”
Kevin shivered.
Bill flicked his gaze up from the Formica to Kevin. “Oddest thing was they were waitin’ for him. Like they knew he was comin’.”
Kevin shivered again.
Tris stared down. “I’m sorry. He probably saved you all… at least the ones who lived.”
“How’s that?” asked Bill, a touch of a glare in his expression.
“Nathan wasn’t trying to help the Resistance. He’s probably First Tier administration.” Tris’s eyes reddened around the edges. “He put a bomb inside me. If you were all still there, it would’ve killed everyone.”
Bill scowled. “Son of a bitch.”
“Wait.” Kevin tilted his head. “That prick didn’t know you were there until you tried to make contact. How would he have known when to set off the bomb? If you didn’t get him on that… computer thingee, he’d never have realized you were at the target location.”
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 Bou
lderites.
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?”
The Roadhouse Chronicles Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 30