The Roadhouse Chronicles Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Cox, Matthew S.

She looked up at Kevin, asking with her gaze if she should believe it. Not being able to read her mind, he kept squeezing her shoulder and offering a comforting presence. “So you think I’m going to take on the Enclave alone somehow?” Tris poked the speakerphone button.

  “Of course not.” His voice made her picture that knowing smile he always had. “I’m not asking you to do anything alone, but at this point in time, you are the only one capable of putting an end to their campaign of atrocities.”

  “I wish I could believe you.”

  Her father’s scratchy chuckle crackled in her ear. “You’re sitting by one of perhaps a dozen still-working telephones in the world talking to a man you’ve thought dead for a long time. What is there to doubt?”

  She frowned. “Everything.”

  “I am counting on you, Sprite. You had always been a timid sort of person. I apologize for the overlay, but it was necessary.”

  “Overlay?” She leaned at the phone. “What do you mean? What did you do to me?”

  “Do not alarm yourself. It is a mild memory overlay responsible for your confidence and belief that you can in fact stop the Virus.”

  She slammed her fist on the desk, making the phone jump and a penholder fall over. “No wonder. You don’t know how sick I’ve been over this for days. I’m looking after a child now, and we left her behind to do this. Argh!” My father wouldn’t do that to me. “The father I remember wouldn’t have forced me to do anything.”

  “I didn’t force you to be here. I only made it easier for you to fight past your doubt and fear. You wouldn’t have come here if you didn’t believe the Enclave needed to be stopped.”

  Kevin stood beside her chair and pulled her against him. She leaned her head against his side.

  “So,” said Kevin, “you programmed her to want to come out here?”

  “You’re overstating the effect of the memory web. This line is not going to last much longer. The systems have not been maintained. Tris, you are the only one capable of helping me. You may resent the means by which you have come to be on this phone call, but I assure you that you can be the catalyst that ends the threat of the Virus.”

  She fumed. “This is such a trap.”

  “If the Enclave wanted to capture you, there are far simpler ways to go about it than a message hidden deep in mp3 files sending you to find a working telephone. Do you not think they’d have rolled over Nederland to get to you?”

  She cringed. “Can I stop them from repeating Amarillo?”

  “I am confident you can stop them, period. However, I need you to come to where I am. There is little time. Three blocks to the west and one north, you will find a Starbucks store. Please… go there.”

  “Hey, Dad type person,” said Kevin. “Why Tris? Why only her? She’s not some kind of super-advanced android is she?”

  She clasped a hand over her heart and stared up at him. He doesn’t believe me? He said he…

  Kevin winked at her.

  “My daughter is quite human. Please… hurry.”

  The line clicked off.

  “You said you didn’t doubt m―”

  He leaned down and kissed her. “I don’t. Wanted to see what he’d say. Well… what now?”

  That unwavering confidence telling her she had to (and could) put an end to the Virus remained, though she bristled at it. Was that how she had such trust in the vaccine, or such guilt at failing a mission that never had a chance to succeed? The overlay wouldn’t tell the difference because I didn’t know the difference. All the tragedy and shame associated with the blown-out resistance base in Harrisburg dissipated. I wasn’t feeling guilty over failing to bring the cure… it was this that I’d been expected to do. She clenched her fists in her lap. Knowing the urge pulling her to fight the Enclave originated from a memory implant didn’t make it any weaker.

  “Are you okay?” Kevin rubbed her back.

  “When I was a kid, I used to be such a little wimp. I was afraid of the dark, afraid of loud noises, monsters under the bed, monsters in the closet… I hated being alone and I hated being in crowds. At night, I’d hide in my room and cling to this little doll I used to have. I remember in first grade, this other girl, Raina, kept taking my lunch pack. She didn’t hit me or demand it or anything… she’d walk right up and take it because I didn’t do anything about it. I got a little braver as I got older. After my father disappeared, I kinda rebelled… but I was still a mouse.”

  “You’re no mouse.” He kissed her.

  “Well, deep down I am. Somehow those people—my adoptive parents… the way they denied that Dad ever existed pissed me off. I rebelled at that and when the social management office announced my pairing with Dovarin, I had enough of a backbone to say no. I hadn’t been alone with that bastard for more than a half hour when he hit me for not being submissive enough. He left no doubt where I stood. I belonged to him. Fuck that.” She grumbled. “I think… I believe that voice on the phone. The overlay isn’t making me want to do anything I don’t already want to do; it’s taking away the fear of doing something stupid and reckless that a normal person would have.”

  “Oh, so it’s turned you into me?” He flashed that rogue’s grin again.

  Nathan wanted to kill me before I got him noticed by the Council. Now he’s going to want to make me suffer. He’s gonna send Virus to Nederland. She balled her hands into fists, shaking with anger and the desire to tear his balls off. She glared at the memory of his arrogant smile on the monitor at Harrisburg, seconds before he armed the explosive she’d had in her gut.

  Oh, I want to rip that arrogant smirk right off his face.

  “So…” He pulled her up into an embrace. “What do you want?”

  She eyed the door. “I’m in the mood for coffee.”

  16

  Dark Roast

  Bodies in the corridor forced Kevin around the long way. Rather than step through a pile of Infected corpses along an approximate hundred-yard path to the lobby, he went three times that distance around the rectangular building. A few times, thuds and dragging scrapes on the ceiling caused him to freeze and glance up.

  Keeping as quiet as possible, he walked past another corridor full of offices and hooked a right at the end. The air grew thicker and more foul the farther down he went, until the passage dead-ended at a pair of double doors labeled ‘Fitness Center.’

  Kevin shrugged and pushed the doors open. The next thing he knew, he sprawled on all fours gazing at a splatter of vomit between his hands.

  “Oh, god.” Tris gagged. She stumbled to the right, leaned against the wall, and also threw up.

  “Wub?” He raised his head, bile trailing from his lower lip, and stared aghast at an Olympic-sized swimming pool. The acrid sting of chlorine and corpse assaulted his eyeballs.

  The water had taken on the thickness of dark raspberry jam, filled with the bloated remains of over a hundred Infected. Gas-filled bellies broke the fetid surface here and there amid the occasional detached limb. Such stench rolled out of the room when the doors opened that his mind had refused to process it on a conscious level, instead ejecting the contents of his stomach in seconds, before he even realized he’d smelled anything.

  “Oh.” He turned away, gagging. “Maybe… we should climb over bodies.”

  Eyes watering from the fumes, he forced himself to stand again, retching when he dared look at a purplish balloon of flesh striated with veins… a man’s gut.

  Glorp.

  Tris held a hand at him in a gesture of ‘shh.’

  He spent a few seconds holding his breath, unable to decide between breathing through his mouth so he didn’t have to smell anything or turning back.

  “Something moved in the water,” whispered Tris. “Poor bastards fell in and couldn’t get out.”

  Kevin glanced at the nearest pool ladder and let off a somber chuckle. Fortunately, the floor ahead had only a little contamination from splashing. “We should be able to get around if we can bear the smell.”

&nbs
p; Glorp.

  “Okay.” He pointed the AK at the room. “I heard that.”

  “It doesn’t matter if one of them isn’t completely dead… they can’t get out of the pool or they wouldn’t still be in there.”

  “Think they drowned or starved?”

  Tris shrugged. “Probably drowned. They had each other to eat.”

  He retched. “Not funny.”

  “Wasn’t meant to be.” She took a step toward the door.

  Multiple black serpentine creatures raced up and over the rim of the pool, quivering toward them like two-foot long snakes on sped up video.

  Kevin screamed with the voice of a five-year-old boy. He managed to get off three shots, detonating one of the things into a bloody splat mark before jamming his arm across his face as another two sprang into the air.

  A ripple of gunfire hammered his ears. One of the creatures slapped into his arm as if someone had walloped him with a baseball bat made out of flesh. Warm sliminess bounced off his forehead. Tris let out a grunt as though she’d thrown something, and another gunshot rang out.

  Seconds passed in silence. Kevin shivered, too frightened to move.

  “Keep your eyes closed,” said Tris.

  “Mmm.”

  A wet cloth swiped at his eyes in a series of delicate dabs.

  “Bend over and turn your head up.”

  He bent forward at the waist and twisted his head toward the wall.

  She poured water over his eyes and forehead, then dabbed at him again with a dry cloth. “Okay.”

  He stood and opened his eyes. A short distance ahead, a symbiote serpent stuck to the wall, haloed by a splat of black ichor. It still squirmed, but couldn’t peel itself free. Silvery liquid oozed out of its hide in several places where the force of its impact had caused it to rupture. Wherever it touched, pieces of wall dissolved into the flow and reconfigured into chunks of biological matter. Fortunately, the ‘repaired’ flesh fell to the floor in separate bits amid a mirror puddle that resembled mercury.

  Tris raised the Beretta and blasted it in the closest thing it had to a head. With a brief squeak, the creature ceased squirming.

  Seven more splat marks decorated the floor between them and the pool. He recognized the one he’d clipped with the AK; it had more or less detonated. The others looked torn up but not to the same degree, suggesting Tris had used the Beretta instead of a rifle. Probably faster.

  “How bad?”

  Tris clung to him for a few seconds, at the verge of tears. “Close, but no idea how old that blood is. Chlorine might’ve killed the Virus… I didn’t want to risk it.”

  “No… no… that’s fine. I’m good with extra careful.” He smiled. “Doesn’t feel like anything got in my eyes.”

  She nodded and put the mostly-empty water bottle back in her satchel.

  He took a deep breath, held it, and ran forward, skirting the pool area by as much distance as the wall and old workout machines allowed. Another attempt to take the most direct route to the front door proved a wrong turn. A giant room full of folding chairs and tables held a few hundred sets of skeletal remains, stacked in a purposeful manner, as if laid out inside a mausoleum.

  “Uhh… Sorry.” He closed the door. Ten minutes later, he stared through an office at a window. “I’m giving serious consideration to shooting out the glass so we can leave this damn building.”

  “That way.” Tris pointed.

  “You’re sure?” He followed.

  “Mostly… but no sense making more noise than we have to. No telling how many Infected are still here.”

  “Maybe they left over the bridge? Followed a Hoplite out or something.”

  Tris chuckled. “Enclave forces probably wouldn’t even use the bridge… hovercraft can go over water. Faster for them to drive straight out onto the bay, especially if they’re heading east.”

  “Really?” he blinked. “Those bigass things can float?”

  The hallway ended a few paces after a rightward corner at a set of white double-doors. Tris kicked them open, knocking aside a few chairs that had been propped up against it from the inside. About thirty yards of grey carpet and display cases full of awards separated them from the lobby.

  “Technically, they’re not floating. They’re hovering over the water.”

  “Wow.”

  “But they would float if the fans cut off. They’re kinda like boats.” She jogged out to the lobby, which hadn’t changed in the hour or so they’d been roaming around.

  Kevin ran after, and past her, gulping huge breaths of air once he got outside. The stench from the pool still saturated his senses, making the air taste sweet. As long as he lived, he would never forget that horrible odor. He allowed a moment to gather his nerves and headed to the Challenger. Before getting in, he took a swig from the canteen behind his seat, swished it around, spat, and did it again.

  Four times.

  He drank a little and fell into the driver’s seat. “Well that’s going into the list of the top three most awful things I’ve ever seen.”

  “Yeah. So three blocks that way”―she pointed―“and turn right.”

  “As you wish.” He smiled.

  The short drive offered no alarming sights or dangerous complications, but as soon as he turned where indicated, he stomped on the brakes. A building with a green and white awning stood on a street corner behind a large crowd of Infected. Only one or two of them moved, most standing statue still staring off into space.

  “Wow, that’s like some kind of badly-programmed video game…” Tris swallowed. “The monsters are standing there idle until something triggers them.”

  “What?” Kevin looked at her.

  She shook her head. “It would take too long to explain. Ask me about it later when we have about an hour to waste. How do you wanna handle this?”

  “Well.” Kevin flicked the master arm switch for the car’s machine guns. “If they’re going to be all nice and obliging and stand in a crowd like that…”

  “The bullets are going to go right through them and spray the place with dangerous blood. We need to go in there.”

  “Aww, fuck.” He grumbled. “Heh. Never mind. Got a better idea.”

  He stepped on the accelerator, pinning himself to the seatback. The Infected looked up at the squelch of tires. A few shifted as if to chase. Kevin reached up to the cord along the roof and gripped the plastic-wrapped steel cable. As the first Infected went past the front end, he jerked down on the cord, igniting the incendiary projector behind his seat. A twelve-foot plume of burning gel sprayed out from a nozzle on the side of the car, catching the bewildered Infected at chest level.

  The Challenger shot past the Starbucks, leaving a group of burning figures staggering into the road in its wake. Kevin hit the emergency stop switch for the right side wheel motors and yanked the parking brake, whipping the car around in a squealing 180. Tris bounced off her door and flew into his shoulder, grunting. The group of burning Infected moved away from the building, staggering into the road to give chase. As soon as the car’s front end pointed at the crowd, he opened fire from the hood-mounted m60s.

  Four seconds later, he let off the trigger. A few of the bodies continued attempting to crawl closer. He sat there, fingertips teasing at the trigger button, as the flames reduced the throng to a spread of blackened remains.

  Tris scrunched up her face. “That’s going to smell.”

  “Can’t be as bad as the pool.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “I don’t think my nose is going to work for weeks.”

  He drove back to the coffee place, skirting the carnage in the road, and pulled into a parking space over a blue field with a white stick figure in a chair on it.

  “You can’t park here, it’s a handicapped spot,” said Tris, her tone flat.

  “Right.” Kevin pushed the door open and shut down the car. He paused, one foot on the pavement, one in the car, and stared at the Starbucks wall.

  The beige stucco had darkened a uniform ashe
n black, except for the lighter-colored silhouettes of perhaps twenty people. An image of men and women of varying height standing in a cluster had been burned into the stone. All of the figures had their arms up, raising rectangular objects of varying size in their hands to the sky. A few scraps of clothing and bone peeked out of a thick layer of soot at the base of the wall, fused into a cement by rain and weather.

  Kevin studied the macabre ‘mural’ for a moment, squinting in confusion. “What the hell were they doing?”

  Tris shut the passenger door with a heavy thud and walked around the nose. “What?”

  He pointed at the wall.

  “Those people were caught in a nuclear flash… probably vaporized. The wall didn’t darken wherever bodies blocked it.” She shuddered. “Kinda looks like they were all holding their phones up at the moment of their death. Wonder why.”

  “Poor bastards.” He headed for the door. “Guess they didn’t feel much.”

  Tris followed him inside. A steady electric hum emanated from the ceiling, though none of the light bulbs remained intact. Years of dirt and detritus collected on the floor around the tables, having blown in through windows that existed only as distant memories. Cutesey pink writing on a black panel over the register area suggested a chipper teenaged girl, though it had smudged away too much to make out much more than ‘iced caramel’ and ‘only $8.99.’ A few molding paperboard signs advertised a $2 off special on cold drinks for ‘Summer 2021.’

  “Everything is so… has anyone even been here since the day it all burned?” Tris’ shoes crunched over a layer of filth as she crept in, head in a constant state of turning.

  “Okay.” He surveyed tables, chairs, a long counter, and shelves full of broken cups and small boxes. “Now what?”

  She poked around behind the counter, opening cabinets, peering in, and closing them one after the next. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “Think your father’s going to meet us here or something?” He scratched at the back of his head.

  “Maybe.” She stopped rummaging, leaned on the open space by an old computer terminal, and stared at him. “What am I going to say to a man I’ve thought dead since I was nine?”