The Roadhouse Chronicles (Book 3): Dead Man's Number

by Cox, Matthew S.

  He shrugged with a ‘you got me there’ face. “True.”

  “This isn’t a bad idea is it?” She eyed the door.

  Kevin squeezed her ass. “No worse an idea than running off to Amarillo to check for survivors.”

  “Morning?”

  “Sure. What about Abby?” He fussed at her hair.

  “Stop it.” She swatted his hand.

  “I love the way your hair feels.” He persisted brushing his hand over it.

  Urges stirred down below as her cheeks warmed. “We should really get some sleep if we’re going to do this tomorrow. Bee could watch her, but I’m not entirely comfortable leaving an eleven-year-old basically alone. Not that I don’t trust Bee, but Abby needs emotional support right now that an android just can’t provide.”

  Kevin sat straighter. “Unpleasant nocturnal mind images detected. Expressing sympathy.” He mimicked a robot stroking Tris’ hair.

  She stifled laughter into his shoulder.

  “Bill and Ann can watch her. He’s already told me as much. She and Zoe are getting close. It’d be like a sleep over.”

  The idea of Virus dropping on Ned slammed into her consciousness. They hadn’t quite been living here a full month yet and she already couldn’t bear the thought of watching this place descend into the same sort of madness that tore Amarillo apart.

  “Okay.” She bowed her head. “I have to do this.”

  “No.” He waited for her to look up. “We have to do this.”

  8

  Aces and Eights

  Ten-year-old Kevin zoomed naked through the endless, waist-high brown grass of a nightmare. Hands raised to shield his face, he ran heedless of rocks underfoot or the occasional whip of grass against his body. Despite the throng of infected behind him, the rush of his breath and heartbeat in his ears drowned out all other sound. Baleful sepia-toned light made the scene feel wrong. He knew he dreamed; yet the fear of a child took hold in his heart.

  Chased out of bed by the entire town succumbing to the Virus, he sprinted until his jelly legs refused to take another step. Exhausted, he loped to a halt and waited for the endless sea of Infected to grab him, but nothing happened. He doubled over, hands on his knees, and gasped for breath. Moments later, he looked back at an empty field. No Infected, no trailers, no sign of anything but miles and miles of endless meadow. He stood straight and shielded his eyes with a hand, scanning the horizon all around. Sometimes, the dream offered distant mushroom clouds, but aside from the unnatural color of the world, his surroundings looked peaceful.

  Wavering grass tickled at his bare stomach; he stood perplexed, wordless at the shock of being alone. Ahead of him, the sun peeked past thickening clouds, but behind him, the sky looked as dark as midnight.

  The mood in the air shifted to one of eeriness rather than blinding terror. The meadow had become alien somehow; a growing sense of no longer even being on Earth set in. Pale ochre grass stretched as far as he could see. No field so large had existed anywhere he could remember. The old trailer town sat only a few dozen yards from a highway and a shallow manmade lake.

  This isn’t home…

  As soon as the dream went ‘off script,’ Kevin’s mind seized upon a scrap of reality. His adulthood, and clothes, returned. He gripped the .45 on his belt like a little boy clutching a security blanket.

  In the east, the sky shadowed a hazy shade of battleship grey, heavy as though the storm of the century threatened to roll in at any second. Before he knew about Infected, his greatest fear had been tornadoes, and it looked like Mom Nature brewed up a bad one.

  Soft crying filtered into his awareness from the left. When he turned, a lone silver trailer that hadn’t been there before broke the monotony of shifting grass. An amalgam of his old home, it had a window from Lloyd’s trailer, a ‘one-way’ sign from his adoptive parents’ trailer, a dent from Jenny’s, and the pink plastic flamingo from old lady Reed’s. He smiled at the thought of Jenny, wondering whatever had happened to her. She had him by a few years, and hers were the first pair of tits he’d ever seen. She’d been quite eager to show them off as soon as she got them. He hadn’t been old enough to appreciate it, and remained oblivious to the clear offer she’d extended. By the time he’d gotten around to understanding what she’d suggested they do, she’d hooked up with Garret, who’d been seventeen. A couple years later when Kevin had left to start driving, the two of them had four kids. At least they seemed happy.

  Crying emanated from the trailer, filling him with a strong urge to help.

  Behind him, the clouds blackened further, a giant’s withered finger threaded downward in a building whorl. The tendril of darkness touched the grass, gathering into a spinning column of doom. Thunder rolled in the distance, and the first few pats of rain struck him.

  He eyed the approaching tornado, fearful of what it would do to a lone trailer out in the midst of an endless field. He couldn’t think of a worse scenario. No cover at all, and somehow, he knew the tornado would go straight toward it. He approached the trailer at a brisk walk, one hand still on the .45.

  The wind picked up in a brief, but powerful, gust, and died down again. Whistles and howls raced overhead. Behind him, debris clattered and smashed to the ground. He didn’t dare look; how could a tornado tearing up an open field of nothing be throwing around objects loud enough to shake the ground on impact? Kevin grasped the steel door handle and gave it a twist. The all-metal door swung open, allowing a sliver of light into a chamber of pitch darkness. Abby curled up on the floor, crying into her hands. Her sweatshirt nightdress had been ripped and bloodied in a manner that suggested a horde of Infected trying to grab her.

  She looked up at him. “They’re coming.” Again, she bowed her head into her hands and wept.

  He stared in horror at bleeding scratches on her arms and sides. His brain, rejecting the idea that she’d become Infected and he would have to shoot her, kicked him awake. The soft crying continued the same as it had in the dream. He wiped the grogginess from his eyes and found himself at home in bed; Abby had wedged herself between him and Tris. She tried to keep her tears quiet, but her face hovered inches from his ear.

  “Hey…” Kevin turned his head and almost touched noses with her. Thank whatever. Just a dream.

  “Sorry.” She sniffled. “I didn’t wanna wake you up.”

  “You didn’t.” He looked straight up at the ceiling again and yawned.

  “Bad dream?” asked Abby.

  “More weird. It didn’t get bad ’til the end.”

  Abby wrapped herself around his arm. “What happened?”

  “Saw a kid what got infected. I couldn’t do it. I got bit.” He rubbed his face.

  She rested her head on his shoulder, and kept quiet for a long moment. “Was it me?”

  He closed his eyes. “Yeah. I didn’t wanna say that. You actually didn’t bite me. Soon as I saw you got scratched, I woke up. Guess I couldn’t deal with it.”

  Abby sniffled and attached herself to his side. “Are you gonna haveta fight Infected when you go?”

  “Probably. The area we’re heading to used to have a lot of people in it.”

  “Are you takin’ militia with you?” She yawned.

  “Thought about it, but I think Ned needs them more than we do. Don’t want to make the place vulnerable if we don’t have to.” He eased his left arm out from under her and curled it around her back. “This trip isn’t something we want to do, but sometimes people have to do things they don’t want to do.”

  “You don’t have to,” said Abby. “But I guess it’s like digging out a shithouse. No one really wants to do it, but stuff gets bad if you don’t.”

  He chuckled.

  Tris laughed.

  “Good morning, beautiful,” said Kevin.

  “Morning yourself.” Tris sat up and yawned.

  Abby pushed herself up to kneel in the middle of the mattress. Kevin sat up.

  “How long are you going to be away?” asked Abby.


  “Week or two. Back up to Route 80 and west right to the coast. Probably take us three days just to get there, assuming nothing gets in the way.”

  “We could shift drive.” Tris glanced over at Abby with a hesitant look for a second before an expression of ‘oh hell with it’ took over. She stood and peeled off her T-shirt. “Gonna take a quick bath before we sit in a car for a week.”

  “Maybe on the way back. I’m not exactly in a great rush to run into the jaws of the Enclave… want to stay fresh for whatever might try to get a piece of us. I doubt we’ll find a roadhouse west of Reno… too much risk of an Enclave presence. Coming home though”―he ruffled Abby’s hair―“we have a good reason to haul ass.”

  Abby’s lip quivered. She stared at him. “Take me with you. Please! I wanna go. I don’t wanna get sick for real when they drop that shit on us.” After four seconds without an answer, she flung herself on Kevin and bawled, begging ‘please’ over and over again.

  Tris grabbed a towel from the dresser and draped it over her arm. “Abby… ugh. I don’t want to leave her here and I don’t think it’s a good idea to bring her with us either.”

  Kevin rubbed the girl’s back. “Calm down. We want you to be safe, but I don’t trust myself to be able to do keep you safe and do what we need to do out there. What if we run into a pack of Infected… or a group of raiders? Do you want to wind up like Katie almost did? Some crazy warlord’s pet?”

  Abby shivered. “No.”

  “Don’t give her more nightmares.” Tris wrapped the towel around herself and sat on the edge of the bed, fussing with Abby’s hair. “Yes, there are slavers out there, but they’re not everywhere. Most people aren’t like that.”

  “The area we're heading to, I imagine there isn’t much of anything actually.” Kevin tapped his foot. “Enclave and Infected… and Boatmen.”

  “Are Boatmen slavers?” asked Abby.

  “Not in the usual sense I think. I’ve only heard stories. They take captives, but they don’t sell or trade them. Rumors I heard drivin’ around said they force people they take to join them, or die if they can’t keep up. Not sure if that counts. Heard other stories too… just as likely to use someone for target practice as take a captive.”

  “It counts.” Tris frowned. “Right. So how do I recognize a Boatman so I know to shoot first?”

  Kevin chuckled. “Once we get near the Golden Gate, anyone not wearing Enclave stuff who doesn’t look frightened is probably a Boatman. Better odds if they point a weapon at you.”

  “Abby.” Tris grasped the girl by the shoulders. “The danger of Virus dropping from the sky here in Nederland could be minimal. It might not even happen. The Council ordered Nathan to stop wasting resources coming after me.”

  “When has being told no ever stopped an asshole like that from doing what they want?” muttered Kevin.

  Tris narrowed her eyes. “Still, it means he has to sneak around. Maybe they catch him and kick him out or kill him. We don’t know that there even is a real threat to Nederland, but we do know that there are real threats out there, and we don’t want you getting hurt.”

  “I don’t want you getting hurt.” Abby sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Take me with you? I’ll stay in the car.”

  Kevin stared at her until she lifted her head to make eye contact. “I want to keep you as far away from Infected… and marauders as possible. I’ve done crazier things before than this. If shit looks like it’s getting out of control, I promise I’ll drag Tris back here if I have to hogtie her and toss her in the trunk.”

  Abby snickered. “She’d kick your ass if you tried.”

  Tris flashed a coy smirk. “Okay. The tub calls.” She walked out.

  Kevin stood. “Go on and get dressed. Pack some stuff and a towel. You’ll be staying with Bill and Ann till we get back.”

  “Stuff?” Abby crawled off the bed and stood. “I have two pieces of clothing.” She tugged on the sweatshirt-turned-nightdress. “This, and the dress Bethany made for me.”

  “What about your other dress?” He raised an eyebrow.

  Abby looked down. “It’s got Dad’s blood on it.”

  “Well, get ready. I’ll go cook something.”

  Head down, Abby trudged out.

  Kevin dressed and headed to the kitchen. He started to collect pans and food, but Bee walked in and got in the way.

  “I can do this for you, Boss.” Bee smiled. “It brings me pleasure to help.”

  “Heh, okay.” He set a kettle on a hot plate and dumped some instant coffee in a mug.

  Bee fried some dust hopper strips as well as a couple of potatoes. They’d run out of eggs, but no sense checking with the farm for another allocation yet. Not with them going away for a while.

  Abby walked in and hovered at his side while he waited for the water to heat up.

  “I got it.” Bee smiled at them.

  He moved to a seat at the table. Abby sat in his lap, clinging. Whether she meant it as a guilt tactic or not, he felt like an asshole for leaving her behind… but someone did go to extreme lengths to send Tris a coded message. It didn’t strike him as another cruel twist of the knife from Nathan.

  A short while later, Bee set plates in front of them. “How long do you expect to be away? Will Abby be staying here?”

  Kevin exhaled. “Bill and Ann are going to let her stay with them for the time being. You may as well join them instead of being here alone.”

  “That is a good idea. The girl would benefit from a caretaker capable of emotional responses exceeding my capacity.”

  Abby looked up with an offended expression. “I’m right here.”

  “You’re human enough to annoy an eleven year old.” Kevin winked.

  Bee emitted her approximation of a laugh. “There are a few maintenance tasks necessary for this house which I shall attend to in the meantime.” She walked off toward the living room.

  “Bee’s kinda creepy… but cool, too.” Abby jabbed a strip of dust hopper meat with her fork. “Where’d you find her?”

  Tris entered, dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt, trailing an air of soap and warmth. She helped herself to food and sat as well. After Kevin finished telling Abby about Wayne’s Roadhouse, no one spoke; only the scrape of forks on plastic plates broke the silence for several minutes. Kevin couldn’t look at Abby without feeling guilty as hell for leaving. He couldn’t look at Tris without feeling guilty as hell for thinking of not going. Some part of him almost wanted to suggest he stay behind with Abby while she ran off, but he did not want to go through that again. He’d spent enough time kicking himself for racing out the door half-cocked to chase down the Redeemed without her. That mistake he wouldn’t repeat.

  Tris didn’t lift her gaze off the plate once during breakfast. He figured she felt every bit as bad about leaving Abby behind as he did, but not quite reckless enough to give in to the girl’s pleas to accompany them. Maybe if she were fifteen instead of eleven, it wouldn’t feel like such a foolish idea. Odd as it seemed, he might’ve actually brought her along if she’d been more like Zoe. As much as he hated to think about it, the little blonde nine-year-old knew her way around a rifle. That kid wouldn’t hesitate at shooting threats, even if she did try to aim for legs so she didn’t kill anyone. He spent a moment debating if she’d hesitate taking kill shots on Infected.

  We’re a nation of broken people… children carrying guns, so many orphans, so many patchwork families. He smiled wistfully, thinking about Ray taking Katie in. Most people he’d run into (pirates notwithstanding) were decent. Perhaps humanity had needed a reset button. At least Zoe still had her real father and brother. Only about five of Nederland’s twenty-something kids had their actual parents around, not counting a handful of new babies of course. Give it time. He bit his lip at the dark thought. It only took him one hand to count the number of people he knew who made it into their twenties before their parents died.

  “I know you’re trying to protect everyone.” Abby looked down as she pulled
on her moccasins. “I might start crying when you leave, but I’m not trying to make you stay. I’m just scared.”

  Tris reached across the table to take her hand. “I know it’s too soon. You haven’t even really settled in here. Neither have we… but I’m so worried something is going to happen. I can’t explain where the feeling is coming from, but I can’t sleep either. It’s like I know something is coming and I have to do this.”

  Abby exhaled, stared at their joined hands for a little while, and nodded. “Okay. Are you taking Zara with you?”

  “I… didn’t even think to ask.” Tris gave Kevin a momentary questioning look, but frowned before he could answer. “No… The town needs her more than I do. I don’t want to get her captured or killed.”

  “What about you?” Abby sniffled. “You escaped too. Won’t they try to kill you?”

  Kevin fidgeted, scraping at his empty plate. “We’re not going to ‘take on’ the Enclave. We’re looking for a ruined office building. What happens after that is going to depend on what we find there… if anything. All we have right now is a number. If it turns out to be a dead end, we’re coming straight back here.”

  Abby rubbed her hands down her thighs in a rhythmic, repetitive motion. “’Kay.”

  Kevin stood. As if heading to a funeral, Tris and Abby followed him across the road and down the two-minute walk to Bill’s house. He and Paul sat on green-painted chairs at either side of the front door, under the shade of the small porch roof. Cody had flopped on the ground a bit to the left in the start of the trees where the hill took a sharp upward turn. Every so often, he threw rocks into the distance.

  “Morning,” said Bill.

  “Howdy.” Pete―Zoe and Cody’s father―raised a hand in greeting.

  “What happened?” Bill stood. “You three look grim.”

  Kevin let out a sharp, short, sigh. “We’re going to go check on that lead Tris found. Look, I… suppose there’s no point trying to honey-coat this. Abby’s already heard it. Hell, she lived it once. We both think that Nathan might target Nederland because Tris is here. Drop Virus on it from a drone. I know you guys sorta dismissed the idea, but I’d really like it if you could bring it up again with the militia to be extra careful about watching the air… at least while we’re gone.”