“I’m not sure. The information I had about the resistance implied they thought so.” She pulled her heel up on the seat and let her head rest against her knee. “I’m not sure what to think anymore.”
“Maybe humanity can’t retake the Earth. Sometimes I wonder if we did too much damage and we’re all just circling the drain, deluding ourselves into thinking there’s something worth hanging on for.”
Tris looked at him. “You have your dream. A roadhouse of your own, right? You told me all you wanted to do was serve beer to idiots and stop being shot at for a living… A dream doesn’t have to be big to be worth having. It’s just gotta be.”
“Do you have a dream?”
“Yeah.” She picked at her shoe. “Stop the Virus, save humanity from extinction.”
Kevin smiled. “So something small.”
“I might have the cure in my head. I’ve got to at least try.” She peeled and re-closed a Velcro strip on her shoe in an endless cycle of scratchy noise. “Once I’m done saving the world, maybe I could be happy carrying plates of food to idiots.”
He held her hand and smiled. “Bee’s an android. You’re not.”
Tris rubbed her thigh. “Yeah… How long till Wayne’s?”
“Probably nine to ten hours at this speed.”
She settled into her seat and closed her eyes. “Wake me up if anyone tries to kill us again.”
evin sat on grey concrete floor staring into the guts of the Challenger’s rear left wheel. Three slugs had pierced the tire, though the solid band seemed none the worse for it. Alas, the magnetic ingots on the outer rotating ring had shattered, and several of the copper windings in the middle had frayed. He opened a flap on the front of a cracked compartment and sighed as a crumble of smashed circuit board fell out and snowed to the ground in a flickering cloud. The sudden strengthening in the ambiance of pipe tobacco announced the garage’s owner approaching.
“Damn, that’s a mess.” Irwin sidled up to his right. “Should’a de-rebuilt it back ta Ethanol. I got some parts f’ya want.”
Kevin frowned at the dingy brown overalls, crotch level to his face. The man looked as if he wore a corduroy sofa and had an electrocuted raccoon for facial hair. “You try to sell me that old six cylinder every time I show up here. Charging is cheaper, and it doesn’t explode if it takes a bullet.”
“You lookin’ at that thing like you tryin’ ta read or somethin’.” Irwin spat off to the side.
“You know… I can read, right?”
Irwin grumbled, making his moustache and beard dance. “Two new motors’ll cost ya eight hundred.”
Kevin held his head in his hands. “That’s crazy, old man.”
“So’s not givin’ me a cut o’ that ambrosia ya got from Gil couple ‘o weeks back.”
“Yeah, and I get a rep for helping myself to shipments, that’s the end of that.” He flung a socket wrench to the ground with an echoing clang.
Tris, wearing a new belt, rounded the rear end of the car and stepped over the support struts of the hydraulic jack that held it a few feet off the ground. She scooted around Irwin and stopped at Kevin’s left. “How bad is it?”
Irwin stared at her chest.
“She’ll kill you.” Kevin took note of the lack of blood on her jeans. How much did Wayne charge for the water? “He wants 800 for two new motors.”
“I don’t mind if all he does is look.” Tris squatted and peered into the wheel guts. “Hm. Looks like a reluctance motor. Synchronous?” She ran her fingers over the magnetic blocks. “Yeah, it would have to be synchronous given the way the poles are arranged. Damn, this thing looks old. No cryonic cooling.”
“Uhh…” Kevin scratched his head. “Cryonics? What, like for superconductors? Sorry, we don’t have e-tech out here. I scavved this stuff from pre-war heaps. There’s some factory parts in Amarillo, and Irwin’s got a few left from the old store room… but he’s trying to take advantage of―”
“Oh, hush.” Irwin’s facial hair twitched side to side. “You’d be payin’ 800 each for them motors in Amarillo.”
“Yeah.” She pointed at the outer ring. “Why would they put the motors right in the wheels? It’s an inverted design where the rotator’s on the outside of the stator. That puts all the stress of driving right on the power converter…”
“Which survived up until it hit a bullet.” Kevin jabbed a finger at the silicon dust. “Four small motors in the wheels distributes vulnerability. If there was one motor with a gear differential, it would be easier to disable the car.”
She leaned forward until her knees touched the ground and stuck her head in. “Hm. General Motors VSSM-43.”
Irwin whistled. “Ye know that from lookin’ at it?”
Tris sighed. “It’s stenciled on the housing. But, yes, I am familiar with it. They were one of the most widely produced sports models after the migration to self-switching gearless inwheel motors. You still get more torque with a centralized engine and transmission but, these will kick you from zero to almost two hundred in a few… painful seconds.”
“Two hundred?” Kevin laughed. “Maybe if you can find flat road. And I haven’t been able to get this thing over ninety-six.”
“Something’s not right with it then… This car should’ve been able to leave those trucks way behind.”
Kevin sat back and folded his arms as Tris proceeded to paw and poke at the wheel. She took the end cap off the central housing and gasped.
“Has this ever been cleaned? Look at all this dirt… and half the contacts are burned to charcoal. The power electronics… umm… excitation controller is probably out of calibration.”
“Damn.” Kevin pinched his nose.
“What language was that?” asked Irwin.
Tris snapped her head back to smile at Kevin. “Guess I’m not just a pretty face.”
He laughed. “Saved my life… twice. Yeah, guess not.”
“Well.” She blew dust out of the wheel’s central compartment, waving and coughing. “Technically, I saved both our lives there. Is there a scrapyard around here? I could probably harvest enough parts to rebuild these two motors given enough time… and a little luck.”
“You sure you wanna risk old parts? Thems motors I got in the back still in their plastic.” Irwin winked.
“For 800 coins, I gotta try. Besides… I trust her.” Kevin grunted as he pushed himself upright. “There’s a scrap field out behind Irwin’s.”
She looked at the bearded man. “Do you have a diagnostic machine?”
Irwin shook his head.
Tris thought for a moment. “You think Wayne will let us borrow Bee for a bit?”
Kevin shrugged. “I can ask.”
After a few hours spent crawling around cars fated never again to move, Tris set the last of the components she wanted atop the armload of parts Kevin held. He started the quarter-mile or so trek back to Irwin’s, navigating a canyon maze of derelict vehicles stacked ten high. She caught up in a few minutes, tool bag hanging at her side. Her hands clamped on a replacement outer ring and tire tread balanced on each shoulder. He shook his head at the sight of a slender woman lifting two forty-five pound carbon-fiber reinforced steel bands.
Irwin’s bushy eyebrows climbed up onto his forehead as she carried them in and lowered them to the floor one after the other as if they were made of plastic. His face flushed, and wandered off to resume working on the same ethanol-eating micro-compact he’d been swearing would outrun anything in the Wildlands for at least the past three years.
“You get the Cooper to start yet?” yelled Kevin.
“Go to hell,” said Irwin, from inside the hood.
Tris wiped her face and rested a moment. “Okay, so I’ll get going on the wheels while you fix the body?”
“You’re makin’ me feel inadequate now.” Kevin laughed.
“Oh.” She walked up and tickled at his ribs. He caught her hands. “Fixing the guts of motors is technical. Working on the skin… that takes love.”
Kevin found himself staring into her eyes. “Yeah…”
xhaustion hung on Kevin’s back with tangible weight. He slouched over the table, hand pressed into the side of his head, and debated if food was worth staying awake for. Thankfully, Wayne’s offered an unusual amount of quiet. After turning in the coins for the damn cube, and paying Irwin for parts and floor space, the trip had wound up costing over four hundred coins. Whatever Tris had done with the electronics had somehow boosted the Challenger, though not quite to the degree she’d predicted. Still, he’d gotten the thing up to 162 on a patch of straight highway to the south of Hagerman. Killed the battery quick, but… at least he could make use of the advantage of being able to run away from another land yacht.
I miss the damn marauder. He daydreamed of his old pickup truck with armor plates.
“You two look tired,” said Bee.
Kevin pushed himself up off the table. Tris had her head down on crossed arms. She, too, leaned out of the way so the android could put down two bowls.
“What is this again?” Kevin sniffed a vaguely meat-flavored brown goo.
“Scorpion gumbo.” Bee put her hands on her hips. “You two need to clean up. Want me to get the water hot?”
“How much?” Kevin poked at the soup. He’d smelled worse, so he dug in.
Bee tilted her head to the left. “One coin per minute.”
He almost choked on the first spoonful, though not from the taste. Once he finished coughing, he squinted up at Bee with the one eye he could open. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Water’s expensive,” yelled Wayne from behind the counter.
“Think of it as additional cost of repairs.” Bee’s face whirred as she smiled.
Tris held up her black-stained arms. “We are kinda filthy.”
He grumbled. “Yeah, but…”
“Share a bath?” Tris winked.
“Shower,” said Bee. “Extra two coins, I’ll even wash your clothes while you’re cleaning up.”
“Two coins per three minutes,” said Kevin, loud enough for Wayne to hear.
Wayne didn’t look up from whatever he was doing, though his raised hand indicated acceptance. Bee tottered off to the back room. Tris kept smiling at him as they ate for a few minutes. The gumbo wasn’t half bad, though he did cringe whenever something crunched between his teeth.
“As tempting as it would be to enjoy the water…” He scraped clean trails in the thick gumbo coating the bottom of the bowl. “I should’ve stuck to eth. Those engines, I can rebuild with my eyes closed. Add circuits and chips and crap and game over.”
“Well, you got the car put together in the first place. Don’t underestimate yourself.” She dropped her spoon in her empty bowl and yawned. “I’m not sure I’ve got enough energy left for anything past degreasing right now anyway.”
Bee came by to collect their dishes. “Water heater’s up and ready. If you want me to wash anything, leave it in the basket.”
Kevin stood and trudged into the little hallway past the bathrooms no one dared use. Soon, his armored jacket stood guard over his boots, shoulder holster, and gun belt while everything cloth went into a metal wire basket near the door. Tris stripped before adding her shoes, katana, and belt to the ‘no-touch’ pile. Shirt, jeans, and undies went into the basket. A claw-foot tub stood in the back corner of what once appeared to have been a storeroom. Two white PVC pipes came in from the wall to a plastic showerhead controlled by individual valves. Kevin set his .45 on a small wooden shelf near the tub as he got in, next to a bar of yellow pumice soap.
Tris eyed the basket as she followed. “What’ll we do if she doesn’t bring our stuff back?”
He reached up, grasped both twist valves, and bore the brunt of the ice blast. “Then, I’m going to go have a heart to heart with Wayne.”
Within seconds of the water starting, Bee ducked in and grabbed the basket. Clock ticking, he didn’t bother waiting for the heat, and set to the task of scrubbing right away. Tris hid behind him until the spray warmed, then got her hair wet. Washing passed as a matter of expedience. Gritty soap scratched up and down his body, chasing off the stains of a long day patching holes and tracing the location of a broken wire. She washed his back and kept going, down over his ass onto his thighs. Her hands lingered there before going back up.
A little while later, he chuckled. “I didn’t realize my butt was that dirty.”
She grasped his hand and slid the soap into it. “My turn.”
The clatter of coins dropping onto the counter played in his mind with each passing minute, though he obliged himself. Kevin pressed the soap against her left shoulder and swiped it across to the right and around her back, working it in a gentle circular pattern. Tris emitted a faint moan of pleasure. Perhaps it was the warm water and pumice, or the lack of a rush, but her skin struck him as softer than he’d remembered it when he’d last been this close to her with no clothes between them.
Black water ran down her arms, carrying car dirt into the oblivion of the drain. He caressed her for a little while longer before she backed into him and reached up behind her. Kevin set his chin on her shoulder as she laced her fingers behind his head.
“Another minute and we won’t be able to stop ourselves.” She swayed side to side and rose up on her toes, rubbing her ass back and forth over his crotch.
“The rooms aren’t too far.” He held her for a little while more before putting the soap up on the shelf and cutting the water off.
Tris squirmed around to face him. Her dark blue eyes glimmered with a new light, as if she’d somehow managed to escape the weight of whatever burdened her heart. Her hair matted to her head and body, trails of snowy white only a few shades paler than the skin it adhered to. A droplet of water gathered at her chin and fell into the shin-deep murk. She stared up at him with an expression that seemed to radiate need, innocence, fear, trust, worry, and hope all at the same time.
She wants something I can’t give her… I’m no idealist. He let the air out of his lungs in a slow breath. I should stop before I do more damage. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it as Bee walked in.
“Laundry’ll be another oh, ninety minutes.” Bee winked. “I’ll tell Wayne you used fifteen minutes of water.” The android leaned forward and whispered past the back of its hand. “Even though you’ve been in here for a half hour.”
Tris wrapped her arms around him and laid her cheek against his chest. Slight shakes gave away her suppressed laugher.
“I could use another pair anyway. Can you grab some stuff from the store that’d fit? Pants… shirt?”
“Sure thing, boss.” Bee pivoted on her heel. “I’ll select the less expensive stuff.”
Kevin smiled. “Thanks.”
Bee wobbled out, closing the door behind her.
“Looks like we got a few minutes,” whispered Tris.
He felt a bit like a dust-hopper staring into the headlights of an oncoming war wagon as she leaned up and kissed him. Kevin lifted her and stepped out of the bathtub, setting her on a small oval rug. They kissed for a while more. Tris raked her nails over his chest when he bit her earlobe. No sooner had she reached down between his legs and grabbed hold, than Bee returned. Tris froze, blushing, as the android entered with a pile of folded clothing.
“We had three bottoms in her size. A pink miniskirt, grey dress slacks, and this…” Bee indicated a rolled-up pair of grey-and-white camouflage pants. “Tops in her size, you had a choice between an ‘I’m with stupid’ tee shirt or this… a tank top. Had a white leather halter with spikes, but you don’t have the breasts for it.”
“Gee, umm, thanks,” said Tris.
“They’re not that small.” Kevin kissed the side of her head, whispering, “What are you embarrassed for, Bee’s a robot.”
Tris bit her lip and gave him a playful shove.
“You are fortunate, Kevin. I found a pair of black jeans in your size as well as a tee without any holes.” The android held up an oliv
e-drab tee shirt with a print of an eagle over a wavy US flag.
“Oh, yeah… perfect.” Kevin chuckled.
“Seven coins for the lot,” said Bee. “Unless you want to give me another maintenance process. The hip’s been acting up.”
“Sure.” Tris grabbed a towel from the wall. “Morning okay?”
“That is acceptable.” Bee bowed at the hip before walking out.
Kevin took the towel when she finished with it, and rushed an attempt to dry off before jumping into the new pair of jeans, fixing the button without zipping it, and gathering the rest of his stuff. Tris pulled on the BDU pants, but covered her chest with the bundle of her shoes, belt, and the unworn tank top as she hurried along behind him to the room they’d rented.
Wayne’s roadhouse had rooms… if you can call a bed stuffed in a large closet a room. Kevin entered and dropped his gear on the floor. Tris scooted in and kicked the door closed, bending forward as she flipped the deadbolt with her toes behind her back. Without a belt on, a bounce sent her pants to the floor, and she slithered onto the bed.
Kevin stared at her. What am I doing? His gaze traced over every curve from her feet to her eyes, and back down. Why not? I’m going to hell already. He shucked his pants and climbed into bed.
A rattle woke Kevin from a dead sleep. He sat up, .45 leveled off at the door as it opened. Bee froze as soon as she spotted the weapon. Kevin sighed, letting his arm fall into his lap. Tris popped up with the Beretta pointed at the wall and yawned.
“Please do not shoot,” said Bee. “I’m bringing your laundry. I did not intend to wake you.”
Kevin waved her in. “Don’t worry about it. Thanks.”
Tris wobbled.
He grasped her hand, removed the Beretta, and guided her to lay back. “Hey, Bee?”
The android set a stack of folded clothes on a tiny table and whirled to look at him. “Yes?”
“Do you dream?”
Bee shifted her weight. “I do not sleep. While I am not technically ‘awake’ in any sense of the definition of the word, to avoid a cumbersome and lengthy discussion of artificial intelligence philosophy, it will suffice. I am ‘awake’ continuously, without requiring the break you refer to as ‘sleep.’ Since your dream process runs while you are engaged in this ‘sleep’ phase, I am incapable of it.”
One More Run (Roadhouse Chronicles Book 1) Page 26