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

by Cox, Matthew S.

  Kevin plugged in to the charging board, gave the silver pickup a ‘why would anyone do that to a perfectly fine truck’ stare, and followed Tris in the front door.

  The room held about twelve patrons. Four men played cards at a round table near the back, a woman and a man in their later thirties, both in piecemeal body armor combining prewar Kevlar with patches of steel-belted radial worked on plates of food in a booth near the front door. A few men sat alone, minding their own business while they ate.

  A boy about fourteen, shirtless, barefoot, and wearing grey shorts, worked a broom across the floor. He had the same black hair as the triplets outside and the older man behind the bar, who had to be nearing fifty. The guy had a hard, ex-military look to him—or what would have been ex-military, if not for civilization ending around the time he’d have been born.

  “Howdy,” said the proprietor as they approached the counter. “What can I get ya?”

  “Charge on twelve, a room for the night, and what’s good for food?” asked Kevin.

  “Chicken, squirrel, p-dog, or dust hopper, with ‘green stuff’ on the side,” said the man.

  Tris and Kevin said ‘chicken’ at the same time.

  “Ten coins for the lot.” The proprietor smiled.

  Kevin stuffed his hand in his coat, pulled out a small handful of coins so as not to give anyone in the room too many ideas, and counted out ten. The proprietor nodded.

  He added two more coins. “Water each as well.”

  “Right.” The man filled two large steel cups and handed them over.

  They took a table along the wall opposite the counter, about halfway between the front door and a stairway in the corner that led up to the second floor bedrooms. Not long after, a girl in her mid-teens, also with jet-black hair, carried two plates out of a flapping plastic door near the counter. A simple denim tube dress clung to her chest by means of a cord tied around her armpits, and covered her to a hand’s width above the knee. She lingered by the proprietor only long enough for him to point at Kevin and Tris, and padded over with their food. Kevin raised an eyebrow in alarm at her black toenails until he realized the color came from some manner of decorative paint rather than infection.

  “Oh, this is easy,” said the girl. “You got the same stuff.” She smiled and set down the plates. “Want more water? Papa don’t charge for refills on water.”

  “Sure,” said Tris.

  “Be right back then.” The girl smiled and hurried to the counter.

  “How many kids does this guy have?” Kevin chuckled. “Guess that’s one way to staff a roadhouse.”

  Tris made a ‘no idea’ face.

  The girl returned with a pink plastic pitcher and refilled their cups before zipping off again. Kevin found himself missing Wayne as he ate. The chicken-on-a-roll with fries didn’t quite live up to the burgers he always wound up craving after a long enough ride. Of course, Bee had been the one cooking them all along. All he had to do was hunt a dust hopper or two and she could make them. Granted, to get the taste perfect, he’d have to kill the dust hopper with his car.

  A few minutes later, the triplets walked in and busied themselves wiping down unused tables and chairs. They remained in a cluster, never more than a step or two away from each other. Kevin couldn’t help but watch them, mesmerized by their antique dresses, almost choreographed movements, and the steady whispery sing-song cadence of their speech to each other.

  Those kids are eerie. He chuckled to himself. I thought the same thing about Zoe.

  The girls offered polite smiles as they walked past their table to attack the one behind them. Despite their tender age, they cleaned and prepped the table like an experienced pit crew. A few minutes passed in relative silence; he found himself mesmerized by the triplets’ whispery singing, and waited for that thing from the one movie to come out of a back hallway and crawl across the ceiling.

  Most of the room looked up when the front door opened. A young blonde woman in a white jacket and tight white jeans strolled in. Her unimpressed glance around the room shifted to wide eyes when she spotted Kevin.

  “Here comes trouble,” muttered Kevin.

  “Hmm?” Tris looked up.

  Athena sauntered over and slid into the bench seat at Tris’ left. “Hey. What are you guys doing out here? I thought you, like, got old and retired.”

  “Something came up,” said Kevin.

  “Oh wow.” Athena showed off a few new scuffmarks on her armored jacket. “I’m really sorry for being a little bitchy with you. This thing saved my ass three times. It’s getting insane out there. This one asshole started shooting right inside a roadhouse near Oklahoma. Right inside! Can you believe that?”

  Tris looked worried, though her face couldn’t get any paler. “That sounds like Mac’s place… what happened?”

  “Oh, yeah. Mac’s cool.” Athena grinned. “These two idiots both tried to sign on for the same run and got into a fight. One wound up pulling a gun after the other guy kicked his ass. I guess it was kinda worth it, I got seven hundred coins for that one.”

  Kevin raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess, both of ’em died?”

  “Yeah.” Athena nodded. “Everyone in the room let them have it. I took a ricochet in the tit, but it didn’t penetrate the armor. Mac’s wife got one in the ass through the wall.”

  “Oh no… Liv…” Tris bit her lip.

  “I think she’ll be okay. She seemed more angry than worried. It hit a wall first so it didn’t do too much damage. Mac was pissed.”

  The same fifteen-ish girl approached Athena. “Hi. Can I get you anything?”

  “Sure, whatever they got… charge on sixteen and a room.”

  “Seven,” said the girl.

  Athena fished out the coins and handed them over. The teen smiled and hurried off to the counter.

  With no tables left to clean, the three maybe-eight-year-old girls sat on the floor in the corner and set to playing with dolls.

  “Bullshit!” yelled one of the card players a short while later.

  The room fell silent. Kevin glanced over his shoulder. One guy with a massive moustache stared at a smaller man with a shaved head and a white cowboy hat. The smaller man held up his hands in gesture of innocence.

  “Ain’t my fault I’m lucky,” said the one with the shaved head.

  “Fuck you and your luck, Joe.” The guy with the moustache threw his cards down.

  After another moment of tense staring, the game resumed, and seconds after that, so did the din of conversation elsewhere in the room. The proprietor whistled two sharp notes, high to low. The triplets hurried out of the room toward the kitchen area, carrying their dolls.

  Kevin kept his attention on the poker table. “That game’s either going to end in a minute or two, or someone’s getting shot.”

  “Wouldn’t someone getting shot also be the game ending?” asked Athena.

  “Heh.” Kevin chuckled. “Depends on who’s playing.”

  “So I run a couple cans of coffee to this crazy old guy out in the middle of nowhere right?” said Athena. “He asks if I take outbound runs… offers me a hundred coins to drive something to this placed called Rexburg right, and a hundred more when I bring back a note from the guy there. So I say maybe, depends what it is. He says it’s in the basement and I can take a look at it to decide. Then, he takes me to this cellar door, right, and―”

  “Please tell me you didn’t go in.” Kevin cringed.

  “I had a weird feeling. Soon as he opened the door, this girl down there screamed. Sounded like she had a gag in her mouth or something. I hesitate, right? And the guy grabs me from behind and puts a knife at my back. I guess he was like expecting me to be all like ‘oh, please don’t hurt me’ right? So I kinda caught him off guard when I punched him in the throat. He pulls a gun; I go for mine.” Athena pointed at a dull grey smudge on the white armored jacket about where her navel would be. “Dude didn’t have armor, and I carry a .45.”

  “Damn,” said Tris
.

  “I know, right?” Athena shook her head. “Guy had two women chained up down there. Wasted four bullets on padlocks.”

  “Didn’t have a key on him?” asked Tris.

  Athena raised her arm, elbow on the table, and flicked her hand with a dismissive wave. “Didn’t wanna stick around long enough to look.”

  Kevin shook his head. “Maybe you should consider a settlement ’til things adjust.”

  “Okay, Dad.” Athena smiled.

  The teen who’d been waiting on their table hovered at the door, afraid to walk into the room again.

  “Wow. What’s her damage?” asked Tris.

  “Their father knows something’s about to happen. Doesn’t want them out here ’til he’s sure bullets aren’t going to fly.” Kevin indicated the poker table with a nod.

  “Oh. And nah. This is way too fun. Maybe I won’t take jobs driving out to old men living alone in the middle of nowhere again, but… I’m not ready to stay in one place yet.” Athena’s bravado faded a little to a genuine smile. “Anyway, thanks for the armor. I don’t usually admit to being wrong.”

  “Fucking cheater!” shouted Mustache.

  “Here we go,” muttered Kevin.

  A chair scraped the wooden floor. Kevin grabbed for his .45 and whirled toward the poker table. Joe lunged up from his chair, twisting to angle a gun on his hip at the guy with the moustache. The two men fired about the same time. Joe’s shot winged Mustache in the arm as he took a slug in the gut. Joe fired again from the hip, but the bullet went high and right, shattering a dead light fixture two tables behind them. Mustache squeezed off a second round, putting a fatal bullet in Joe’s chest before the man had gotten all the way out of his seat.

  Joe’s body crumpled to the floor, dragging a chair down.

  Mustache held his weapon up to the side, letting it roll back on his finger through the trigger guard as an indication to the room he had no intention to shoot anyone else. Another man from the table slashed the sleeve of Joe’s pale blue shirt open, exposing a few cards. Mustache put his weapon back in its holster and lowered himself to sit once more.

  The man to his right dropped his cards on the table. “I’m out.”

  A woman who looked like a forty-something version of the teenaged waitress entered from the kitchen in a blue Kevlar vest over a basic T-shirt and jeans. The vest bore faded lettering across the front spelling DEA. She trained a Colt M4 in the general direction of the table, but didn’t point it at anyone specific. The proprietor dragged the dead man out the front door.

  “I mean…” Athena ate a fry. “Do you really not miss this?” She winked.

  Kevin stuck the .45 back on his belt and relaxed. “I got over the whole ‘playing with guns thing’ the first time I took a bullet. Never really was about fighting or killing. I wanted money, a roadhouse. Got tired of always moving around, never knowing if home would still be home next month. You grow up nomadic?”

  “Nah.” Athena picked up her burger. “I’m from this little boring bit of nowhere called Winifred, Montana. It’s so boring the nukes fell asleep and didn’t go off. My sisters are all quiet, do everything Dad tells them. Except for Lizzie, they’re all married already.”

  Tris tilted her head. “Is Lizzie like you… adventurous?”

  Athena grinned. “No, she’s five… maybe six now. I got tired of being the ‘bad’ daughter. Couldn’t stand being stuck in a place where nothing ever happens and everyone just exists. Only thing I had to look forward to was pumping out kids.”

  “I used to know a girl who wanted to be a mother so bad she was ready to get started at thirteen.” Kevin chuckled. “Well, I hope you live long enough to get the itch to settle down.”

  Athena rolled her eyes. “Okay, Dad.” She slouched on her elbows, voice quieter. “I never did really thank you for letting me stay so long. Sang’s great by the way. Whatever you’re doing out here, I hope you live long enough to settle down.” She winked.

  “Yeah…” Kevin chuckled, eyeing the blood trail to the front door. “So do I.”

  The proprietor’s wife traded her rifle for a mop, while barking, “Not yet,” at someone in the back.

  Kevin eyed the brown curtain blocking off the kitchen, picturing all the kids huddled on the floor or perhaps down in a basement. And that’s why we took Abby to Ned.

  When the proprietor walked back in, he clapped a few times to get the room’s attention. “Silver pickup truck for sale. Thousand coins.”

  Kevin laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” asked Tris.

  “You saw that truck. Someone put a car suspension on it, dropped it to like an inch of ground clearance. That guy deserved a bullet.”

  Athena laughed, though Tris continued to give him a befuddled stare.

  “Never mind.” He tipped back his water.

  “Oh.” Athena pointed at him. “No matter what Neeley tells you, we did not fuck.”

  Tris rolled her eyes. “That man is impossible.”

  Athena stared at her with ‘you have no idea’ written across her face.

  “The perpetual optimist.” Kevin sent a suggestive look Tris’ way. “S’okay. I wouldn’t have believed him if he told me that anyway.”

  Stretching, Tris yawned. “Why can driving make you so tired when you’re just sitting there?”

  “Takes a lot of focus.” Kevin stood. “Is that a hint?”

  “Yeah, maybe a little.” Tris smiled.

  “Night you two.” Athena stood to let Tris out of the bench. She sat, ate one more fry, and looked up at them with a coy wink. “Have fun.”

  9

  Two On The Way

  Tris hurried up the narrow stairway to the second floor and followed the hallway to the sixth room on the left. Kevin slipped in behind her and locked the door. The room contained a battered metal-framed bed, pale grey wherever the paint hadn’t flaked off the steel, and about two feet of open space between it and the left wall. She twisted to gawk at the door.

  “How did they get that bed in here? This room is so small.”

  Kevin embraced her from behind. “Probably took it apart.”

  They shuffle walked together to a tiny handmade table in the left corner next to a small square window that even Zoe couldn’t have squeezed through. Despite its size, they’d put a cage of rebar outside. Tris set the key on the table and reached for her belt.

  “Wow, I’d hate to be in this place if it caught fire.”

  Kevin grasped her hand. “Let me.”

  Tris bit her lip and let her arms hang loose. He swayed her side to side for a while, kissing at the back of her earlobe. Oh… She closed her eyes. Kevin slid one hand up her front, kissed her again, and tugged her T-shirt out of her jeans. She stood still as he worked the shirt up and peeled it off her. Her hair tickled at her back for a few seconds until he pressed himself against her from behind. His hands alighted on her hips and slid up over her bare stomach to cradle her breasts. Breath ran in hot puffs over her skin while he kissed the curve where her neck met her shoulder. She bit her lip as he played with her nipples for a while.

  The urgency to chase down the phantom number receded.

  Take my pants off before they’re soaked.

  She squirmed her ass into him, smiling to herself as he stiffened against her.

  He traced his right hand down her stomach while his left continued teasing her breast. It took him a moment to fumble open the button on her jeans. With excruciating slowness, he slid his left hand over her side to her hips while he sank downward, kissing across her shoulder and along her back. She reached forward, bracing her hands against the wall to keep her weakening legs from dumping her on the floor.

  She tried to hold still as he pulled her jeans over her ass, and trailed kisses down the back of her thigh.

  “I love every inch of you,” he whispered, and kissed the back of her knee.

  Oh… Her legs gave out, and he guided her to sit on the mattress before removing her shoes. She kicked fre
e of her jeans and stretched out naked on the bed, smiling up at him. Already, her heart raced and a fine layer of perspiration glowed all down her front.

  Kevin slipped out of his armored jacket and dropped it before removing his boots. Tris arched her back and bit her lip while he took his sweet time tugging his shirt up and over his head. She teased at his jeans with her toe. He grinned, undid the button, and let them fall.

  She crawled backward as he climbed up onto the bed and hovered over her. He planted the lightest of kisses on her stomach, a little below the navel before moving upward, touching her only with his breath until his lips found hers. Tris wrapped her arms around him as they kissed, moaning into his mouth. His erection traced across her thighs.

  Grinning, she grasped his shoulders and twisted, pushing him over on his back. Light brown hair, the longest she’d seen on him yet, spilled out on the sad excuse for a pillow. He grinned like the entire world could blow up all over again and it would be worth it for being with her at that moment.

  Tris reached down and grasped his length, guiding him in as she lowered herself onto him. “Oh…” She gasped. “You got me so wound up.”

  “I haven’t unwound since last night.” He winked and gave a little thrust, which almost hurt.

  “Ooh!” She squeaked.

  He slid his hands up her front and played with her breasts while she gyrated in a gentle up and down motion. His eyes fluttered, half closing. She caught his right hand and pulled it up to her face, sucking on his finger, letting the tide of ecstasy build.

  “Faster,” he wheezed. “You’re so damn beautiful.”

  She dropped his hand and bent forward, grasping his shoulders―and slowed down. “How about I go slower?”

  “Ngh!” He clenched his teeth and shuddered.

  Tris flattened on top of him, kissing his nipple; he wrapped his arms around her and held on, moaning. He grunted. His fingertips dug into her back and his body convulsed in a series of short thrusts. Warmth bloomed inside her. He held on, groaning with the paralytic clutch of release. Tris bowed her head, panting, so worked up by his foreplay she found herself on the precipice within seconds of his tension fading.