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

by Cox, Matthew S.

  “What does that mean?” asked Aura.

  Kevin stepped up behind the kid, reached around to grab her arm, and put the .45 in her hand.

  Aura stared at it as if he’d handed her a dead baby.

  Tris scowled at him. “What are you doing?”

  Tears rolled down the girl’s cheeks, though she didn’t make a sound.

  Kevin took his weapon back and reloaded it. “She had a gun. Now she can’t run to the ISF. No need to worry about her causing an alarm.”

  Aura continued to stare at her empty hand as though it needed to be ‘cleansed.’

  “I was trying to make this as un-traumatic as possible, and you just…” Tris sighed.

  The girl looked back and forth between them, her face warped with dread and shame.

  “Look at her.” Tris picked the girl up and cradled her sideways across her chest. “She looks like we made her shoot someone.”

  Aura burst into tears, clinging to Tris and sobbing into her shoulder. “I don’t wanna go to Detention.”

  Kevin winced. Though having her afraid of the ISF instead of wanting to run to them made him feel better. Now they could be the good guys again. “I’m sorry, Aura. I won’t tell anyone you touched a gun.”

  “You made me touch it.” The girl sniffled.

  “Will the ISF care?” asked Kevin.

  Aura stared at him with a blank-faced gawk. “I don’t know.”

  Tris carried her down another hallway past doorway after doorway of classrooms. “They’d probably think letting her handle a firearm would diminish the fear they try to cultivate. Even if we forced her to, she’d at least get some kind of punishment. So, as far as anyone here is concerned, that didn’t happen.” At the corner of the hall, she booted open a classroom door and crept inside. “Stay down.”

  Kevin crouched, ducked into the room, and pushed the door closed.

  Day shimmered in from windows covered in grime, painting a dry erase board along the right wall with blotchy shadows. Jagged silhouettes over the glass suggested an irregular barrier of scraps or debris outside. Tris crawled past student desks to the windows and peered up. A raccoon-band of sunlight lit the upper half of Tris’ face.

  Aura crawled up behind her and huddled in a ball. “I know where we are… we’re inside the wall.”

  Kevin took a knee behind them. “I’d hope we’re inside the wall. What else was the point of sneaking through the damn subway?”

  “No.” Aura looked up at him. “I mean this building is part of the wall. We’re literally in the wall. No one’s supposed to go here.”

  “Right,” muttered Kevin. “Can’t let the prisoners out.”

  Aura’s eyebrows scrunched together. “We’re not prisoners.”

  “Sure, kid. Keep telling yourself that.” Kevin patted her on the head.

  Tris moved left to the last window in the row. A wide rectangular slab at the bottom opened after she twisted a handle, lowering inward like a hatch.

  “Ugh,” muttered Kevin. “That’s going to be a tight squeeze.”

  “Minute… I’m watching for patrollers. We need to go out and left. There’s a white and silver building about thirty yards away across a patch of grass. I’ll go out first. You lower Aura out to me, then follow.”

  “Got it.”

  “Can I go now?” whispered Aura. “I promise I won’t tell anyone you’re here.” She wiped her hand on her leg as if trying to clean ‘gun’ off it.

  Tris glanced down at her with guilt and temptation all over her face. “When I first saw you, you sounded like a little ISF cadet. I think you really need to see this so you understand what I’m saying is true. Ten minutes, okay? Stay with me for ten more minutes and you can go home.”

  Aura shivered, but nodded.

  After watching out the window for another minute and change, Tris leapt up and slid through the opening. She landed outside, head-level to the window. Aura climbed up onto the radiator. Kevin again took her by a grip under the arms and lowered her feet first into the open window. Tris caught her and helped her down, out of sight. Kevin moved to climb after and froze, stunned by the view.

  Beyond a patchwork of rusting metal welded into a security barrier, a sprawling complex of buildings, perfect roadways, and verdant patches of green grass stretched for miles. Black specks, people in jumpsuits, walked around a city that looked like a scene from a science-fiction comic he once read. Potted trees stood interspersed among fantastic swoops of silver architecture, thin decorative spirals with no purpose he could discern. The buildings had a sameness to them that reminded him of an old video game he’d found, where the lazy designers had pasted the same five houses in a repeating pattern to make a city.

  Overhead, a great bubble of thin plastic formed a dome over the entire complex, easily several miles across. Sunlight reflected in hundreds of tiny flares. He shook his head at it. These people are paranoid.

  A teenage girl went by on a bicycle with cobalt blue light glowing in rings around the tires and pedals. Two men walked on the opposite side of the street, having an animated conversation involving large smiles. No wonder Zara wanted to come back here… it’s like the war never happened and humanity kept going. All that’s missing are cars.

  As if on cue, a boxy vehicle closer to a tiny van than a car glided by. The shroud of its body panels came within an inch of the road surface. He squinted and made out a hint of tiny enclosed wheels. Before he could mock whoever would put such minuscule tires on a car, the realization that the man inside sat back while the car drove itself shocked him mute.

  “Kevin,” whispered Tris. “Come on!”

  He blinked away the mesmerizing effect of the Enclave city and hauled himself headfirst out the window. Tris grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down, saving him from a faceplant on dirt. Much to his surprise, Aura hovered close, making no attempt to run off. He got his feet under him and blinked at her. Guess the gun thing worked.

  Tris again took Aura by the hand and ran, heading across a rectangular patch of grass so perfect he wondered if little robots measured every individual blade to length. Ahead, a small cube of a building perched in the middle of the lawn. The upper part of the walls were white, with about a third of the building paneled in mirror like silver. It appeared only large enough for one room with no windows or decoration aside from some chugging machinery on the ceiling, which he assumed to be overworked air conditioning.

  A brief sprint later, Tris flattened against the wall and crept to the corner. Kevin didn’t bother leaning against the building; the exterior barrier around the entire Quarantine Section stood less than twenty yards to their left, no one in sight to look at them.

  “Ugh.” Tris gagged and coughed. “Okay. Need to run for the door. Don’t stop for anything.”

  She kept a hand around Aura’s wrist and darted around the corner.

  Kevin followed, sparing a quick glance up at metal letters over the cube-building’s only door.

  “Sewage Processing.”

  No sooner had the words crossed the threshold of conscious thought, a stench slapped him in the face. He, too, coughed and gagged on the air wafting from the front of the building. Tris rushed a plain opaque black door resembling a slab of onyx glass, shoving it aside. She let go of Aura’s arm once she reached the doorway.

  Kevin came up behind the girl, not sure what to expect, half intending to grab her if she tried to run.

  “Afternoon,” said Tris. “I’m here about maintenance order CS-101997B.”

  Surrounded by walls of baffling computerization, a pair of Enclave ISF officers staffed a desk facing the door. Both wore the same style of super-thin armor that Zara had, clean, new, and form-fit. Two helmets sat beside them on the desk. Seeing it on people it had been made for made it clear why Amaranth had denied them armor. The difference between these two and the Resistance people couldn’t have been more vast. Even if they had their helmets on, the curvy shape of the one on the right would’ve left little doubt as to her be
ing female.

  The woman started to give Tris a suspicious glare, but diverted to blink at Aura, her black bob swaying with the sharp head motion.

  “There’s no record of a maintenance request,” said the man, who also had black hair, but streaked with a bit of white. He looked in his middle twenties, as did the woman.

  Tris smiled. “You’re probably not cleared to know about it then. It came right from Director Kuroyama himself.” She approached the left side of the desk, nearer the man.

  Kevin tried to keep a straight face, but couldn’t help a slight flare of the eyebrows when the smell of sewage ceased as soon as he walked into the air conditioning. He glanced back at the soft hiss of the door closing behind him. Why does it only stink outside?

  “What’s the child doing here?” asked the female ISF officer.

  Aura slipped into an easy smile. “I’m doing job shadowing since I asked about the waste treatment processor.”

  The man’s expression darkened as if the girl had somehow given away a lie. He reached for his sidearm. “Don’t mo―”

  Tris’ body blurred. An instant later, she held a small black box to the side of the man’s neck, a flickering blue light crackled and buzzed where the tip met skin. His eyes rolled up into his head and he went from standing to Tris holding dead weight.

  In another second of blurred limbs, Tris and the woman pointed guns at each other. She let the man drop to the ground, keeping the stunner in her left hand. Kevin eased his hand into his pocket. The woman eyed him for an instant.

  “Don’t move,” she muttered.

  “No one needs to die here,” said Kevin.

  “Kid, go get help,” said the woman. “If that guy touches you, I’ll shoot this bitch.”

  “You’re not faster than me,” said Tris.

  Aura rubbed her hand on her jumpsuit. “I’m scared.”

  “Why don’t you tell her what’s downstairs?” asked Tris. “This isn’t a shit pumping station.”

  The woman blinked in shock. “How…”

  “I know everything. The real question is how can you go along with it? They’re lying. This isn’t about protecting humanity. They want to destroy it. Go ahead, tell Aura what you’re guarding. Why are there ISF people stationed to guard a waste treatment plant? Why are sprayers making stink outside but it smells like a hospital in here?”

  “I was wondering that too,” said Kevin.

  Aura glanced back at the door, wide-eyed. She looked up at Kevin with a ‘holy crap she’s right’ expression.

  “Drop the antique,” said the woman.

  “You first.” Tris’ arm held so steady she didn’t even look human.

  Kevin felt a little too much like he used the child for a shield and stepped out from behind her. “Look… just calm down. It’s already over. You can’t stop what’s happening in the computer. The Enclave’s war on the remnants of humanity is going to end today.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked the ISF woman.

  The instant the woman glanced at Kevin, Tris whirled into a spinning kick aimed at the gun. Kevin lurched to the side and dove on Aura. The ISF woman’s gun went off with a squidgy, muted pop followed by a pair of clanks so close together they sounded like one noise. With a fleshy thump, a starburst of pain exploded in his back, behind the left shoulder. Another pop-pop preceded two more pings and a shower of sparks from somewhere behind him.

  “Ngh,” he groaned.

  Aura screamed.

  Rubber-soled shoes squeaked on the other side of the console. Women grunted and gasped. Aura’s scream faded into sobbing.

  Kevin huddled over her, pressing her into the floor.

  “Ow!” wailed Aura. “She shot me!”

  Tris roared. The next fleshy thump made him cringe from the loudness of it. The ISF woman wheezed and gurgled. A meaty smack rang out. Kevin looked up at the armored woman’s face bouncing away from the wall of display panels. Tris held the wrist of her gun hand, keeping the weapon pointed more or less at the ceiling. The woman bounced away from the wall with a dazed expression. Tris stabbed the stunner past a feeble grope for her arm and held it to the woman’s cheek for three seconds of electric buzzing.

  A limp body collapsed the ground.

  Kevin shifted to his knees and rolled Aura onto her back, checking her for injuries. His hand came away from her left thigh bloody. “Dammit, she’s hit.”

  Tris hurried over. “I’m so sorry… it’s my fault.”

  “Ow!” Aura whined, clenching her teeth. “It burns!”

  He pulled at a rip in the fabric about a hand’s with down from the girl’s hip. The wound looked more like a nip from a sword than a gunshot. “It just grazed her.”

  Tris ripped the jumpsuit open a little more to get a look at the girl’s paper-white leg. She deflated into a slump. “Oh damn… we got lucky. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Done what?” Kevin smiled. “Kicked the gun or kidnapped the kid?”

  Tris’ mournful frown made him feel like an asshole.

  “Sorry. Trying to lighten the mood.”

  “Am I gonna die?” whined Aura.

  “No kiddo. You got a little scratch.” Kevin patted her forehead. “The bullet bounced off the wall before it hit you, barely touched you.”

  Already, the wound appeared smaller.

  Tris gasped. “You’re shot!”

  “Yeah.” He grunted as concern for Aura gave way to feeling pain. “That one probably would’ve hit her in the face. Better it got me.”

  Aura looked at him in disbelief.

  “You don’t have nanites.” Tris fussed at his back, making the pain flare.

  “Holy fffaaaah!” He bit his knuckle.

  “That’s not what you wanted to say,” whispered Aura.

  Kevin laughed as a tear dropped from his left eye. “They give kids nanites too?”

  “She’s probably had them for about a year. Ten’s the minimum age.” She picked at his back. “The slug hit your shoulder blade. I can’t tell if it went into it or stopped against it. Gonna pull it out on three.”

  He clenched his teeth, expecting her to count to one and yank.

  She did.

  The room turned white for a second as pain flared and faded. A small metal click came from the left.

  Aura sat up and poked at her leg. “It stings.”

  Tris bowed her head and took the girl’s hand, apologizing over and over. Kevin gritted his teeth and reoriented himself. Aside from being smeared with blood, the paper-white skin visible through the rip in the girl’s pant leg looked pristine.

  “I need me some nanites,” he muttered while grasping Tris’ shoulder. “Hey, come on. We can’t sit around here feeling guilty.”

  “I’m sorry.” Aura looked down. “I didn’t mean to make them angry.”

  Tris shook her head. “You couldn’t know. As soon as you acted like this place really was a waste treatment facility, they knew I lied. If I’d been sent here on a maintenance job, I’d know what they really used this building for… and there’s no way they’d send a child along here.”

  “What is it?” asked Aura, genuine interest in her expression.

  “Come on. I’ll show you.” Tris stood. “But first…”

  She hurried around the heavy security desk and stooped out of sight. A small white box came flying over a second later. Kevin caught it, recognizing a first-aid kit from the green plus on it.

  “Aura, take one of the white tubes with the blood drips on it out of that box, pull off the green cap, and spray a bit into the hole in his back please?” Tris sat at the console and typed at a keyboard.

  The girl rolled over and stood on her knees. “Okay.”

  Kevin opened the box; on the left half, five white plastic tubes sat in rails, each with a red blood droplet mark on the side. The other side had a few bottles of pills, gauze, bandages, and three gizmos he couldn’t begin to guess the function of.

  Aura reached past him and grabbed one of the tu
bes.

  “What is that?” asked Kevin.

  “Spray-skin,” said the girl. “It’ll stop you from bleeding.”

  “Not that I have a problem with no longer bleeding, but if everyone here has nanites, why do they have first aid kits?”

  Tris bent down and stripped both ISF officers out of their utility belts and armor. “Kids under ten, plus some of the kits have been around since before the nanites became widespread.”

  “So this is… twenty year old medicine?” He chuckled.

  “Maybe,” said Tris.

  A faint snap came from behind him. He tensed.

  “It’s okay,” said Aura. “They don’t hurt. It’ll feel cold and itchy for a little bit. I built this remote control plane once and it blew up. It took my dad almost an hour to pluck little pieces out of me.”

  Hiss.

  His shoulder twinged with a chill similar to what he imagined being impaled with an icicle would’ve felt like, minus the pain of being stabbed. “Oh, that’s odd.”

  Both of the ISF officers had black military-style handcuffs with a hinge rather than a chain in their belts. Tris secured their hands behind their backs with their arms linked. After, she slipped into the woman’s armor. It made her chest seem larger, but otherwise fit.

  “The other suit might be a bit pinchy. You’re bigger than him.”

  Kevin chuckled. “I didn’t think you looked.”

  Her face turned pink around the nose. She shot a pointed glare at Aura as if to say ‘there’s a damn kid here, watch it.’ “Hurry up. Anyone could walk in here at any minute.”

  Kevin grumbled and stood, rolling his left shoulder to work the soreness out. His skin tugged at the wound site, like a patch of something sticky clung to him. “That feels so damn weird.” He stared at the armored suit. “Umm. How’s this thing work?”

  Tris sighed and dressed him like a three-year old, holding up the pants for him to step into. She hit a button near the waistline and they cinched snug in an instant, making him groan as his junk crushed. “Oof.” The upper half fit like a jacket; it too squeezed tight at the push of a button. The material couldn’t have been thicker than an eighth inch in some spots, up to a full quarter-inch over the heart and major chest plates. Chromatic silver hexagonal lines gleamed under a smooth layer of black, catching the light as he moved.