“What the fuck?” whispered Kevin.
“Holy shit.” Forgetting her lack of shirt, the girl ran by and pulled open another box. “More bullets.” The next one she opened had factory-new looking M-16 style rifles. She took one. “Welcome to mama.” She kissed it before looking at Kevin. “Which o’ these bullets go wit’ this one?”
Over the next few minutes, he found about four thousand rounds of 5.56mm, an equal amount of 9mm, and a box of handguns that looked pre-war but of no design he’d ever seen. They had no manufacturer markings on them, or any indication of what company made them. He pointed her at the 5.56 while examining one of the odd black pistols.
They’re 9mm, but it’s like they came right out of the factory. He scowled. Enclave. They’re making ‘low-tech’ weapons for these knuckle-draggers.
“A-ha!” the girl pulled a blue ‘SFPD’ vest out of a more distant box and put it on. “Ain’t perfect, but it’ll do.”
A wash of headlights passed over the door of the cargo box. He hurried out of the cargo box as Tris brought the Challenger to a stop a little ways inside the gate. She got out and headed toward Freya with a pair of combat boots.
“Tris,” yelled Kevin.
When she looked, he waved her over.
She handed off the boots and jogged up to the cargo box. “What do―the hell is this?”
“I was hoping you could answer that. Is this a telephone box?”
“No.” Tris approached the desk and fiddled with the system. “This is a digital video recording of…” She looked away. “What those people were forced to do to each other in that… arena.”
On the video, a crowd of Boatmen surrounded the fence, watching a pair of men circle each other hesitantly, one with a hatchet, one with a sword. Not until someone shouted that they’d shoot them both if they didn’t fight did the men start going after each other in earnest. The top right panel showed the topless teen using a pair of large combat knives to slice apart a thirty-something man who couldn’t catch her.
The girl looked down, guilt on her face. “They… they were gonna kill us both. I said fuckin’ do it, so they said they’d kill Chris… that boy they made feed us. Said they’d kill him if I didn’t win.”
Kevin pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to process the scene before him. “Why? Where did Boatmen get this? The rest of the box is full of weapons and ammunition that all look like they’d been made days ago.”
“They’re feeding it.” Tris shut off the video playback, braced her elbow on the table, and rested her forehead in her hand. “I don’t know why they’re recording it, but the Enclave is supplying them. No wonder they charged at us like that. They’re probably used to having a major advantage against people with bats and crowbars and such.”
Kwan leaned in. “What in the name of…?”
“It’s full of weapons and ammo… and armor.” Wish I brought the van. Kevin smiled. I want to keep all this for Ned, but… “You got enough room in your ambulance for this stuff as well as the other people? Bad idea to leave it lying around. Uhh, Tris and I are going deeper into this paradise… somethin’ she’s gotta do. Can you take the others with you?”
“Yeah. Sure. We got plenty of room back home. You don’t want any of this stuff?” Kwan raised both eyebrows.
“Well… might take a box of 5.56 and a box of 7.62, but I don’t have space in the car for much. If you have the room, Point Reyes might as well get it before the Enclave gives it to more insane savages. Oh… you have any idea where we might find a, umm, ‘phone company central office?’”
Kwan nodded. “We saw one on our way into the city. We’ll take the same way out and you can follow us?”
“Yeah.” Kevin put an arm around Tris as she walked up beside him. “Faster we get this done, the happier I’ll be.”
“I agree. I wish to get out of this place as well. It will be dark soon.” Kwan gazed up. “I am in your debt…”
“Name’s Kevin.” He smiled. “Let’s go get your truck and we can load this stuff.”
“Your wife is quite lovely.” Kwan bowed to her.
“Thanks.” Tris eyed Kevin, flaring her brows as if to ask ‘wife?’ A hint of pink appeared in her cheeks.
He let his arm slip down and gave her backside a squeeze. “I’d be lost without her.”
13
Blackbird
“There!” Abby pointed while looking through the noculars at a thing that could only be an Enclave drone heading straight at them. Her chest hurt from how fast her heart pounded; air refused to enter her lungs. “It’s there.”
Zoe shifted around. “I don’t see anything.”
“It’s right there.” Abby raised her voice (as if that would somehow help Zoe see better) and jabbed her finger at the sky. Her arms trembled and tears ran down her face. “It’s gonna kill us!”
“I… Oh. Wow. I see it. Hold your ears.”
Bang.
Unprepared for the loudness of an M-16 fired only two feet away from her head, Abby jumped and fumbled the noculars, which dangled from the lanyard around her neck. She clamped her hands over her ears and screamed. Zoe fired again and again, shooting at an even rate of about two bullets per second. Brass casings bounced to the roof and rolled off to the street side. It didn’t take long for her to run out and reach for a fresh magazine.
In the quiet of her reloading, shouts rang out on the street below, men and women trying to figure out who opened fire on what. Zoe smacked the side of the rifle twice and it shook with a loud click. She took aim again and resumed firing, though her rhythm became faster and erratic.
“Zoe!” screamed Ann.
Abby whirled around. The woman’s head and shoulders hovered over the roof’s edge, though she seemed too nervous to try climbing up any higher.
“Hang on, Gran’ma.” Zoe fired a rapid series of about six rounds before thrusting her arms (and rifle) up over her head. “Yes! Got it!” She jumped up and down, cheering.
“You did?” Abby looked to the west. For a fleeting second, a faint sparkle appeared in the air. She lifted the noculars from her chest and scanned the sky, but couldn’t find the drone.
“What the hell is going on?” yelled a man from the street level.
A faint crack echoed in the distance.
“Zoe!?” shouted Ann. “What are you doing?” She wrestled with her fear for a second before pulling herself up onto the flat roof and crawling to Zoe. “Why are you up here with that gun?”
“Drone!” yelled Zoe.
“What?” Ann clutched the top of the roof, shaking.
Zoe ran to the Nederland-facing side of the roof holding her rifle pointed upward in one hand. At the edge, she peered down and shouted, “A drone! I shot it a buncha times, and it fell outta the air.”
Ann beckoned her with a rapid wave. “Zoe get away from the edge!”
“Get down from there before you fall,” yelled a man. “Jim, take Renee and go check it out.”
“I don’t see it,” said Abby.
“That’s ’cause I shot it and it caught on fire.” Zoe backed away from the edge and flicked the safety on the rifle.
Ann pulled herself up and crawled to the middle of the roof, shivering from her fear of heights. She grabbed Zoe in a bear hug as soon as the child got close enough.
“I’m okay, Gran’ma. We are on drone patrol. We got one.” Zoe grinned.
Oh, no. They’re really trying to kill us. Everyone’s going to die. Images of being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night by her terrified father raced back to her mind. Abby breathed faster and faster until she became too dizzy to stand. Her vision blurred to useless behind a thick layer of tears. She swooned to her knees and bawled.
Ann’s arm went around her.
At the instant of contact, Abby screamed, “No!”
The woman cringed.
Abby looked up, sniffling. “I mean… no… they’re trying to kill us.” She grabbed Ann and wailed, lost to sobs of uncontrollable sorro
w as everyone from Nederland died in her imagination.
“Ann?” shouted Bill. “Zoe?” His voice got louder.
Zoe closed her ammo pouches and pulled the bandolier over her head onto her shoulder. “On the roof, Gran’pa. Gran’ma’s scared a bein’ up high.”
Ann crawled backward, one hand around Zoe’s wrist, the other arm around Abby. Footsteps scuffed up behind, and a hand patted Abby on the back.
“Come on, hon,” said Bill.
Abby released Ann and clung to Bill, who carried her down the angled part of the roof and handed her through the window to a tall woman in militia camo with caramel skin and a round face. The woman sat with her on Zoe’s bed, rocking and patting her, asking what’s wrong in various ways using both English and Spanish.
Zoe climbed in the window. “Abs, let’s go check it out. I wanna see the crashed drone.”
All the nightmares of Amarillo cleared from her mind. “No!” Abby leapt away from the militia woman and grabbed Zoe. “Don’t go near it!” She stared up at Bill. “Don’t let anyone go near it! They’ll die. It’s carrying Virus.”
Bill’s expression said ‘oh shit.’ He blinked at her once and ran out.
Ann stood inside the window, shivering, both hands over her face. Her usual warm complexion had faded, leaving her face paler than Abby’s. “What were you girls doing up there? You could’ve gotten hurt.”
Zoe put her rifle and the ammo supply back in the closet, then pushed the doors closed. “Abby told me ’bout the drone that hurt everyone where she used to live. Tris said one might be coming here; that’s why they went onna trip to hit the Omclave in their stupid noses.”
Ann patted herself on the chest a few times, then fanned herself. After a moment, some color returned to her cheeks and she grasped the shoulder of the militia woman. “Thank you.”
The woman nodded. “No problem.”
“Thanks.” Abby sniffled and forced a weak smile at the woman. “Sorry.”
“You musta seen some badness, girl.” The militia woman squeezed Abby’s shoulder. “Ain’t no shame in bein’ afraid of that crap.”
More shouting came from outside, but Abby couldn’t make out words, only that men yelled back and forth to each other. The shouts held little emotion, voices raised only to cover distance. She grabbed Zoe and pulled her close.
“Don’t go near it. You’ll get sick an’ then you’ll bring it to town, and everyone will die.” She sniffled and collapsed seated on the rug, bawling.
Ann sat nearby and pulled both girls into a hug.
“Not fair,” muttered Zoe. “I killed it and I wanna see it.”
“You’ll die,” whispered Abby, choking on her attempt to breathe and cry at the same time.
Ann rocked her and patted her back. She wasn’t Tris, but Abby only cared for a half a second before she held on and cried herself to silence. Zoe’s annoyance at being denied the opportunity to see her ‘kill’ up close gave way to concern. She scooted closer on her knees, holding Abby’s hand.
Eventually, tears ran out, and Abby stared at the wall feeling hollow. Are we gonna be alive when they come back? Zoe squeezed her hand. Ann continued patting and rubbing her back.
A few minutes later, the ladder to the loft rattled. Abby didn’t care enough to look, but Zoe twisted around.
“Hi Zara,” chirped Zoe.
Sniffling, Abby raised her head and peered up.
Zara climbed up into the loft, a strange-looking boxy rifle across her back on a strap. She seemed less frightening in green camo pants and a purple sweatshirt; without that creepy shimmery armor, she almost looked human. The black-haired woman wasn’t quite as ‘nice’ as Tris, but still had much to do with getting her out of Amarillo alive.
Abby stared up at her. Tears streamed out of her eyes again for a few seconds before she wailed, “They’re gonna do it again!”
“What happened?” Zara took a knee at Abby’s side. “Why are you so upset?”
“A drone. They’re sending a drone to drop the Virus on us.”
Zara nodded. “Where did you see it?”
“West.” Abby wiped her nose on the back of her arm. “I saw it on the noculars.”
Zara’s lips twitched as though she suppressed a laugh. “Can I see them?”
Abby held the green box up. “You gotta look through this side, with the eye pads.”
“Hmm.” Zara looked at the focus wheel. “Hmm. Can’t tell. Did you see any glowing numbers or anything when you looked at it?”
“No.”
“Damn. Battery’s probably shot. This thing’s got a rangefinder. Guess I wander around until I trip over the crash site.”
“It was pretty far,” said Zoe. “Like a thousand. I hadda put the scope all the way far.”
“Don’t go.” Abby grabbed Zara’s arm.
Zara smiled. “It’s all right, Abby. I’m like Tris. I can’t get it. I’m going to bring some ethanol with me and burn it out so no one gets sick.”
“What if it gets on you and you bring it back here?” Abby sniffled.
“I’ll be careful… I’ve dealt with this crap before.” Zara stood. “Keep ’em inside for now.”
Ann nodded. “Yes. It’s about bedtime.”
Abby shifted her gaze to Ann without lifting her head. “Do you really think I’m going to be able to sleep right now?”
“No, no… of course not.” Ann stood. “Get changed for bed. I think we have some cocoa left.” She patted the girls on their heads before following Zara down the ladder.
Zoe puffed her chest out, beaming. “We saved Ned.”
“We’re in so much trouble,” whispered Abby. “The militia’s gonna yell at us. Maybe lock us up.”
“We didn’t do anything bad.” Zoe pulled her dress off and slipped into her nightgown.
“You fired a gun and didn’t tell them first.” Abby got up and walked over to where she’d left her sweatshirt/nightgown draped over a chair.
Zoe stared at her while she changed as if she’d said the most stupid thing imaginable. As soon as Abby fluffed her hair out from under the fabric, the girl sighed. “We didn’t have time to tell them. It was attacking! When bandits attack, we don’t gotta ask the militia if it’s okay to shoot them.”
“Oh. Duh. Right.”
“Come on.” Zoe ran to the ladder and climbed down.
Abby trudged after to the kitchen, where Ann hovered by the kettle on the electric stove. She guided the girls to the sofa and threw an afghan over them. With only an oil lamp for light, the house filled with frightening shadows. Abby pulled the hand-knit blanket up to her face, not even noticing that she trembled until Zoe gave her a funny look.
“I don’t wanna get sick,” whispered Abby.
Zoe mulled for a little bit before smiling. “I won’t tie you to the bed. I got a suitcase to hide in.”
Abby giggled, despite her fear.
Ann crept in and set a tray down on the coffee table with three mugs filled with pale brownish foam. Abby hadn’t seen chocolate for a few years, but recognized the fragrance right away. Ann eased herself down between them, handed each girl a mug, and took the last. They sipped at the cocoa in the quiet dark for a little while before Ann decided to ramble about how this sort of drink used to be common.
“It’s rare?” asked Abby.
“Oh, we can get cocoa beans sometimes. Bit too cold to grow them here, but sugar’s hard to find. We found a nice big container of this powder a couple years ago, and keep it for special times like this when someone really needs it.”
Abby wondered if this ‘years old’ powder had the flavor it had been meant to. It didn’t taste unpleasant, more strange―aside from fruit, she didn’t have ‘sweet’ things too often. “I’m scared. Thank you for using some of your expensive… cocoa.”
“Oh, it’s fine, Abby.” Ann leaned against her for a second in a one-armed hug. “Problem with saving things like this for ‘just the right moment’ is, you grow old an’ you realize you don’
t got so much left to look forward to. One day, you realize that you missed a whole bunch of ‘right moments’ and you still got all this stuff you never used. Way I see it, you needed it. Like a nice warm hug from inside.”
Zoe slurped her drink.
Does she think we’re all going to die soon? Abby glanced over. “I don’t want to die. Maybe we should go up into the hills so they can’t find us.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that.” Ann bowed her head. “Sometimes people find things like this cocoa and they want to make them special, so they keep them set aside waiting for some special moment that never happens.”
“But what if you use it all?” asked Zoe.
“If you use it all, you’ve enjoyed it right? If you grow old and the jar’s still full, you never got to enjoy it―so making it special didn’t mean anything. You might as well not have found it.”
Abby drank another sip; the cocoa had cooled to the point where she could take a big mouthful. She figured Ann meant to say something more than she didn’t mind giving her the hot cocoa. Like she shouldn’t be afraid to enjoy life or something.
An explosion in the distance made her jump. “What was that?”
“Something blowed up,” said Zoe.
Ann perked, craning her neck as if she expected to see through the wall. “Sounded pretty well away from town. Bet that was Zara getting rid of the drone.”
Abby shivered and pulled her legs up under her, cuddling into the afghan. If Zara had found the drone and destroyed it more than the crash already had, she’d be on the way back with news… and possibly deadly contamination.
“What’s wrong?” asked Ann.
“I’m worried about what Zara found.” Abby sipped more cocoa. “Why did Tris and Kevin have to leave? I’m scared they won’t come back.”
Ann attempted to be comforting for a while. Abby couldn’t blame her for trying, but didn’t feel obligated to cheer up either. Soon, their mugs ran dry, and Ann put her arms around the girls, pulling them close. Zoe passed out not long after, asleep with her mouth hanging open, head against Ann’s shoulder.
The Roadhouse Chronicles Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 104