The Roadhouse Chronicles Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Cox, Matthew S.

  “Okay. Now we can talk.” Tris stared at Gerhardt. “I’m a little emotional right now, so if I accidentally shoot someone else in the face, don’t take it personally.”

  Kuroyama pointed at the Persephone. “Android, by order of the Council, kill these invaders.”

  “I’m sorry, Director Kuroyama.” The Persephone stood statue still. “A command has been processed at a higher security level that is in direct contradiction. I am unable to comply.”

  “What?” He blinked. “What is going on here?”

  “My father was Doctor Ian Jameson… you know, the crazy old man who invented them. Apparently, he didn’t want his inventions being used against him. Or his family. Persephone, if any of them try to give you a command again, please tear off a random arm and beat them to death with it.”

  “Command accepted,” said the android. “Please clarify if you prefer true random or pseudorandom limb selection.”

  The Council all shifted in their seats.

  “How did you get in here?” blurted Director Khan.

  Tris grinned. “Watching a Persephone throw a man through a concrete wall convinced the soldiers they might be on the wrong team… now where was I?”

  Kevin leaned close and whispered, “Why is this one talking like Bee, but the one I ran into with the Redeemed acted like a person?”

  She smiled. “I haven’t told her to load a personality matrix yet. She’s more intimidating that way. Later. I want to go the hell home.”

  “Right.” He took a step away for some room and kept his pistol ready.

  “Gerhardt… I’m sure you know that the Enclave is not equipped to support its true population as you’ve got things set up. Nice fake out on the Core City by the way… I really believed it.” She exhaled a somber sigh. “We’re all kinda circling the drain right now. There’s a good chance that maybe humans were meant to die off. When we pushed the proverbial button and burned down the sky, we pretty well screwed ourselves. Maybe forty years from now, there won’t be anyone left no matter what we do. And if the Enclave is working against the rest of humanity, it’s not a question―we will die out.”

  The ISF officers moved closer, standing as if holding the Council under guard.

  Tris glanced at them. “As it was before today, the Enclave only hurried this along. People out there, they didn’t want to give up. They tried. They established settlements, created trade routes, farms… an attempt at civilization. We had no right to destroy them simply for not being privileged enough to have been born inside these walls.

  “Are there bandits, raiders, slavers, and people who deserve to die out there? Sure. It’s not like those hist… I mean movies made it look like. There’s maybe one slaver for every three hundred settlers, and that’s probably overestimating. It seems worse because they band together.”

  “And you fuckers help them,” said Kevin. “Sending them weapons, drugs like Void Salt, vehicles… trying to kick us into the ground all that much faster.”

  Gerhardt tapped her finger on the desk, glancing away and down. Kuroyama continued to stare at the Persephone as if he expected it to shoot him any second. Khan trembled in her chair.

  Whitford leaned back, hands flat on the desk. “What are you proposing we do?”

  The noise of rioting outside grew louder.

  “Like I said, there’s a chance nothing will matter. Maybe the war, the virus, and greed have already killed us all. But… if the Enclave helps rebuild, it could be different. If you use the technology we’ve preserved and improved on in the fifty-one years since the war… we might actually survive. I’ve been out there. There’s no mutant diseases. We’re not going to choke to death on the air or drop dead as soon as we eat something not grown in a hydroponic tank. It’s all bullshit. Question is, did you make up the bullshit or do you believe it too?”

  “Dust hoppers are kinda a mutant,” whispered Kevin. “I don’t think they had seventy pound rabbits before the war.”

  An uneasy noise leaked from Director Khan’s stomach.

  “The people within these walls can help humanity get on its feet.” Tris looked back and forth among them.

  “What if we disagree?” asked Gerhardt.

  “Either the Council disbands. Or”―she aimed at Gerhardt―“you all atone for the people the Enclave has murdered.”

  “And,” said Dad-AI from ceiling-mounted speakers. “I will permanently disable the reactor, which will force you to move into the world and find a new source of power. I doubt quite sincerely that even Amarillo has enough solar panels to meet your current energy demands.”

  Gerhardt chuckled, shaking her head. “I’m surprised you’re not demanding to take over.”

  Tris walked left, up three steps to the dais, and stopped at Gerhardt’s side. “That’s never what I wanted. I don’t know what Nathan told you about me, or what you assumed about me based on what you feared my father had planned, but I’m not after power. Nothing I did was ever motivated by a desire to be in charge. I wanted a life of my own, not be told who I can or can’t love, not be shut in a giant human hamster cage. The Enclave… or whatever it will become in the next few weeks, is humanity’s best chance to continue and maybe even get back some quality of life.”

  Khan mumbled to herself. Her expression said she wanted to object, but the woman either lacked a compelling argument or the nerve to voice it. Kuroyama glared at Tris with barely contained hostility. If not for the rifles hovering around him―and a Persephone waiting to rip someone’s arm off―he’d likely have attacked her, or at least slapped her by now.

  “The Council’s power is over,” said Tris. “The Enclave needs to change… and the war against innocent people must stop.”

  35

  Cleansing

  Tris glanced down the length of the rifle at Gerhardt’s chest. After a little over a minute of silent staring, she shifted so the weapon pointed in a neutral direction. “Well?”

  “We still don’t have enough information about the dangers of the outside,” said Gerhardt, her voice weak, defeated.

  “It’s exaggerated,” said Tris. “Your predecessor wanted a ‘perfect society’ ruled by an iron fist.”

  “You’ve been deceived, child.” Gerhardt looked up at her, weary steel-grey eyes struggling to project sympathy. “Your father is the one who invented the virus you so passionately despise. He was the founder of the Enclave. Everything that’s happened here has been his plan all along.”

  “Helena,” said Dad-AI. “If you’re going to feed my daughter bullshit, at least have the decency to serve good bullshit.”

  An explosion of light welled up in a banner over the Council’s desk, dozens of holographic panels streamed with text data, pictures, charts, and video. A few screens enlarged, bearing emails among members of a ‘planning council’ discussing the need to modify Jameson’s bio agent into a weapon that could ‘purge the filth’ from the world so ‘we can take it back.’ Images flicked to later emails and a video message showing a fiftyish man with a strong familial resemblance to Gerhardt detailing the need to eliminate Jameson as he ‘cannot see the necessity in the plan.’ One called him ‘too idealistic.’ Another screen enlarged with a chain of emails to select ‘replacement parents’ for Tris, who they would have simply killed if not for their worry that Jameson somehow buried things in the system that would require her later on down the line. They expressed quite clearly the selection process for ‘extremely loyal’ individuals to serve as surrogate parents.

  “I have all of it, Helena. Your father was nothing if not thorough in his record keeping.”

  Gerhardt gasped and stared at Kuroyama. “Is this true? The files I was given on Jameson when I took office… They were falsified.”

  “Women are prone to being too idealistic and emotional.” Kuroyama scowled at Tris. “We expected you to hesitate on certain matters. The Enclave couldn’t afford to have a Primus who let emotion get the better of them. You were presented with the information you needed to func
tion in the best interests of the people.”

  “Which people?” snapped Tris. “The three of you or the half a million dead because a handful of assholes in lab coats couldn’t read a damn chart and thought the world toxic?”

  “It was you.” Gerhardt pointed at Kuroyama. “No wonder Nathan got away with half the things he did. You were helping him… and continuing to send Agent-94 out into the world after I ordered that program shut down. It was… too indiscriminate.”

  “You never should’ve seen those recon feeds.” Kuroyama folded his arms. “Video of a handful of farmers with children doesn’t prove the world is survivable. They’ll probably grow third legs or blow up with tumors by the time they hit puberty.”

  Gerhardt bowed her head. “I’ve been… lied to.” She lifted her head with the apparent effort of moving a boulder, and made eye contact with Tris. “I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. You’re right. We cannot keep on going like this. We’re breeding ourselves into extinction.”

  “You’re being foolish, woman,” said Kuroyama. “We are the Enclave.”

  “Now you’re sounding like the jackass with the exploded head.” Kevin pointed his pistol at the Japanese man. “One more remark about women out of you, and it’s going to be the Council of Three.”

  Alex chuckled.

  A window popped open on the desk in front of Director Khan. A man in a military helmet, bulky, ponderous, and bedecked with hoses connected to his nonfunctional Hoplite appeared.

  “Directors… We are unable to hold the perimeter as ordered. Half of my personnel are defecting. There are thousands of people coming out of stasis. They’re not listening to orders.”

  “Probably a bit pissed off at being lied to and kept frozen against their will.” Tris smiled as the roar of rioting crowd at the top of the auditorium grew even louder. “It probably no longer matters what the Council wants. Your power is gone.” She lowered her rifle and took Kevin’s hand. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

  Kevin cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t want to kill them?”

  Tris sighed. “They deserve it for what they did, but no… I think being exiled into the Wildlands is going to be far worse for them than the instantaneous justice of a bullet. More poetic too.” She looked at Gerhardt. “Your dread of the outside world is all in your head. You might even like it out there.”

  Kuroyama eyed the ISF men. “You traitors plan to simply stand there doing nothing?”

  “Sorry, sir,” said Alex. “I’ve been debating placing you all under arrest for war crimes, but I’m not entirely sure it’s worth the paperwork.”

  Tris slung the rifle over her shoulder and pulled Kevin into a long, deep kiss. The fear that had taken her while strapped to the chair came back, and she clung to him tight to chase away the dread she’d felt at the idea of never seeing him again. Basking in his presence calmed her. Her body wanted sleep, craved a few hours of ignoring the world, and went limp. She let him hold her up, moving only enough to keep kissing him. Soon, tears of joy ran down her cheeks, and she clung to keep from collapsing to the floor.

  “Is this real? Am I in VR? I can’t believe we really did it.”

  His arms squeezed tight around her. “You did it… I only twisted a few valves and gave some crazy, idealistic woman a ride to Harrisburg.”

  36

  Reunion

  A sudden clamor of activity by the chamber’s main entrance stole the laugh from Tris’ throat. She peered over Kevin’s shoulder up the aisle. An army swarmed in; more than half of them wore only the dried residue of stasis tank slime streaked with blood from wounds that nanites had already healed. All had armed themselves. Most appeared to be around eighteen, likely frozen as soon as they ‘went off to University.’ Here and there, those without white hair stood out as if someone had thrown colored paint at random into the crowd.

  “Uh oh,” muttered Kevin. “Nothing good ever happens when a huge crowd of armed, bloody, angry, naked people storm a room.” He chuckled. “Didn’t this used to be a college? Probably not the first time a mob like this has run around.”

  “What?” asked Tris.

  “Uhh, movie I saw.” He overacted an innocent face. “I may have been too little to be allowed to watch that particular movie.”

  Tris pulled away from Kevin, raising a hand to the crowd in a gesture she hoped they’d take as greeting. In seconds, the auditorium had filled with citizens. The mass of people swelled wide at the bottom, surrounding Tris and Kevin before spilling up onto the dais. Tris resumed breathing as the ones nearest her aimed their weapons at the Council.

  “It’s her,” said a young woman near the middle. The shape of her small body vanished amid a black jumpsuit much too large for her. “Tris?”

  The ISF men by the curtain exchanged a few tense words with the nearest citizens, but soon tensions between the two groups faded. None of the crowd pointed weapons at the ISF, who remained hesitant to aim theirs at the Council.

  “Yeah.” Tris nodded at the girl. She looked at a nude man within arm’s reach. “Guess you’re in a hurry?”

  “Most of us haven’t been out of pods for a full ten minutes yet,” said a man a little deeper in the crowd.

  “Kill them!” shouted a female voice near the middle of the room.

  “No!” yelled Tris.

  A hush swept over the citizens.

  Dammit. I hate being stared at by two people much less two hundred. Grumbling, Tris pulled herself up on the dais, and faced the room with her arms raised.

  “You’ve grown up being fed lies about the supposed barbarians of the Wildlands. Don’t turn into them. Before the war, humanity had a system of law and government that we should attempt to preserve.”

  “Yay, politics,” whispered Kevin.

  “We can’t arrest them,” said the same girl in the oversized jumpsuit. “There’s no jail here… you showed us Detention was really VR. And you burned out that system.”

  Tris nodded. “It had to be done, or they might’ve put you all back in prison. That’s what it was.” She lowered her hands. “I’m not going to tell you what to do. I have no interest in remaining here. I have a home I want to get back to. You’ll need to decide for yourselves where to go from here, though I sincerely hope that you listen to my father’s ghost and open the Enclave to the world.”

  “If we’re not going to kill them or freeze them, what do we do with the Council?” shouted a man.

  “Either build a prison or… exile them. I think that would punish them more.” She paused to breathe. “And I don’t mean the Council’s definition of exile as a euphemism for murder… I mean real exile.”

  Director Kuroyama leapt from his chair, hurling himself at Tris from behind. He got a hand on the rifle slung across her back as he came down on his chest and slid forward over the desk. She stumbled to the right, knocking a flat panel monitor into Gerhardt’s lap and two others to the floor. Kuroyama’s momentum sent him spilling past her. She twisted to the right, tearing her rifle from his grip.

  About thirty people shot him the instant he hit the floor.

  Kuroyama’s body convulsed under a hail of bullets; he gurgled and went still, lying atop an expanding seep darkening the pale grey carpet.

  Director Khan screamed.

  “Idiot,” said Kevin.

  Tris sighed. “No… He knew what would happen; he committed suicide.” She glanced at the remaining three elders. For some reason, she almost felt bad for Gerhardt. Almost.

  “Exile,” said a muscular woman on the dais.

  “Exile,” repeated a man next to her.

  The word swept over the crowd like rain, two or three, ten, then a deafening chorus.

  Gerhardt bowed her head, calm and reserved, though dread showed clear in her eyes.

  Director Khan burst into sobs. “Please don’t. At my age… You can’t send us out there.” She calmed, blinking as sudden inspiration took her. “The old legal system had an appeal process. I wish to appeal.”

&n
bsp; “I’m sure the half-million or so who died to the Virus would’ve liked an appeal too,” said Tris. “If I were you, the first thing I’d do is get rid of that fancy Enclave suit and never tell anyone out there who you are. I don’t think it’s possible for you to meet a single person who wouldn’t jump at the chance to kill the ones responsible for setting that horror loose on the world.”

  “How’s this gonna work, then?” asked Tarl.

  Tris looked from him to Alex to the front row in the crowd. “I don’t know why everyone keeps asking me questions. I don’t have the answers. The only thing that differentiates me from you is that I saw through the bullshit first. Don’t trust anyone from the administration.”

  “And she’s got a combat package,” muttered Kevin. “And a great ass, awesome legs, perfect boobs…”

  She blushed.

  “Good advice,” said Not-Dad from the speakers. “I believe I can provide some assistance in that regard.”

  Most of the citizens looked up with expressions of awe.

  “It’s not God. It’s an AI,” said Kevin.

  “Wait,” asked the girl in the too-large suit. “You’re just going to leave?”

  “Yep.” Tris jumped down to the floor and walked up to Kevin. “We can stay a bit longer to talk about the outside world. I’ll help as much as I can, but this isn’t my home.” It never was.

  “Tris?” yelled a familiar sounding woman.

  “It is her,” said a familiar sounding man.

  Oh, crap. Tris closed her eyes. If there is a God up there, please let Mom2 and Dad2 have clothes.

  She opened her eyes as a hand grabbed her forearm.

  Mom2, Yana according to the AI copy of her real father, stared at her as if looking at a dead person back from the grave. Mercifully, she had appropriated a jumpsuit, blood soaked from the waist up. A few spots of chalky skin showed from bullet holes in the torso, and the five or six inches of her snow-white hair that hung past the shoulders had soaked it up, turning pink. Despite having to be fortyish, the woman didn’t appear much older than Tris.