Kevin pressed the cold .45 to his forehead and moaned. “You could’ve just said ‘no.’”
Bee smiled. “I prefer to give accurate and complete answers.”
“Thanks, Bee.” He managed a weary smile.
Once the android walked out and relocked the deadbolt from the outside, Kevin relaxed and flopped down. The room may have been tiny, but at least Bee kept the sheets clean.
Tris snuggled up to his side. “What was that about?”
“Mmm?” He threaded an arm around her.
“Asking Bee if she dreams.”
He leaned his head to the side, cheek touching her. “It doesn’t sleep… at all.”
“Mmm.” She yawned.
“You do.” He squeezed her.
Tris opened her eyes. “What are you saying?”
Here we go. Why didn’t I just shut up and go to sleep. “I’m saying I don’t think you’re an android.”
Her hand crept across his chest. He grasped it with his left. “What if I was programmed to act real? Who knows what kind of technology the Enclave has. Maybe I can fake eating and sleeping.”
Kevin inhaled the scent of her hair. “You can’t fake kissing like that… or those little noises you―gah!” He squirmed as she attacked his sides.
They ‘fought’ for a few minutes, each trying to keep the other from tickling them. When at last she collapsed on top of him, out of breath, he kissed her on the nose.
“See. You’re out of breath.”
She went from grinning to sniffling.
“What now?”
Tris laid her head against his chest. “Some spots of my memory don’t make sense. When I was in Detention, the cell had no toilet. I remember spending hours on the computer terminal doing e-learns, but never eating, cleaning myself, or even so much as peeing.”
“You were probably terrified and blocked it out.” He leaned up and kissed her. Several minutes later, he let his head down into the pillow. “You are not an android. No robot could kiss like that.”
“What if I do have the cure in my implant?” She settled down next to him.
“Unlikely. They sent you into the Wildlands as a two-legged bomb. All they had to do was convince you the data existed.”
Tris shivered and started to cry. “I had to get this data to Doctor Andrews. If the data’s not real, w-what am I supposed to do?”
He brushed her hair out of her eyes and cradled her cheek while staring into her wet eyes. “Maybe you could try just being happy?”
She blinked, sending one tear down her face. Fatigue seemed to overwhelm her. Kevin closed his eyes and tried to let the tension seep out of his muscles. For a few seconds, it felt as if he’d fallen through the bed into a great void, and sleep took him.
he shock of being alone in bed snapped Kevin from zero to awake in an instant. He squinted up at the dingy curtain made of coarse red fabric, aglow from a midafternoon sun. Dark horizontal threads seemed spaced at random among thinner areas, which turned pink. The deadbolt looked open. Her clothes, weapons, and shoes were gone.
He stared at the empty floor where her things had been for a few minutes. Quiet resignation seeped in as he traced his fingers over the bed at his side. The stained white drop ceiling offered no solace to his aimless gaze. One thumbnail-sized beetle crept across. He thought about his balance, 9,408 coins, dwelling on how he’d slipped farther away from the ten grand he needed. His hand passed over the empty part of the mattress. A roadhouse of his own seemed like such a hollow thing. Four walls, a roof, and perhaps a stream of customers. What if it didn’t make him happy?
Kevin looked again at the floor. She’s run off to get that data… but where?
He swung his legs over the side and held his head. Her laugh echoed from the recesses of his memory. He imagined her arms around him, her breath on his skin. The idea of falling back into bed for another couple hours seemed like a good one.
The car. He sighed. Wouldn’t be the first time.
One hand on his face tried to hold in his emotion. Here I thought I was the one gonna hurt her. He sat up again. What the hell is wrong with me? I gotta make up for that loss. A few minutes of pacing around only served to confuse him more. Why am I not running outside to see if the car is still there? The empty bed haunted him. He slumped seated on the edge and swiped a hand over the sheet, catching a long strand of white hair between his fingers.
“Yeah… I walked right into it again.” He let the hair fall. “S’pose this beats waking up hugging a cactus at least.”
He rubbed his face as strange ideas… stupid ideas circled around in his head. Ideas like running off to find her instead of the car. If there is a God, only he knows what I’d do to Morgan if I ever find that bitch.
Tris walked in, dressed in her new tank top and grey-white camo pants. “Hey.”
Kevin stared at her.
She tilted her head. “What’s on your mind? You look hung over.”
“Nothin’. I… uhh, think I slept too much.”
“Wayne’s got some food on for us. I packed your spare clothes in the trunk.” The katana on her back rattled as she sashayed over. “You okay?”
“Fine.” He stood, naked, and sucked in a huge breath.
Tris squinted. “What the hell is the deal with the bathrooms here?”
Kevin cringed. “You didn’t―”
“No… my eyes almost melted when I was two steps away from the door.”
“Bee won’t even go in there.” He grabbed his boxers and stepped into them. “Gotta say something.”
She covered her mouth. “That can’t be healthy.”
“Maybe Wayne’ll pay you to clean it.” He pulled on the eagle tee shirt. “Christ, look at this thing. I’d fit right in if we went back to New Dallas.”
“He already paid me thirteen for tuning Bee up again. I’ve never seen a model like her before, but she’s pretty old. Prewar.”
“Well, the News didn’t put her ass together with toothpicks and rebar.” He put his boots on and kicked the toes on the ground.
“Okay. That was stupid.” She laughed. “Of course they didn’t get Enclave tech.”
He smiled, locking stares with her. She bit her lip and looked down.
“I love the way you do that little lip bite thing… it’s cute when your face turns pink.”
As soon as he said it, she blushed.
“Food should be ready soon.” She rolled her eyes with mock irritation and walked out.
Kevin hooked a right out of the door and headed to the back porch. He glared at the horizon where heat blur shimmered over the distant expanse of beige as he watered a bush. It’s happening again. When a scorpion scuttled into view, he shifted to chase it with the stream, but decided against it. That might be dinner later. He grumbled. I didn’t think of the car first… Kevin zipped up. I’m losing it. Too close. Getting careless. He held his breath to get past the bathrooms as they tromped down the narrow corridor between the back porch and the dining area. Wayne’s old armor hung in a glass-fronted display case between two pale green doors, one with a crude sharpie-marker penis on it and the other with a pair of googly cartoon eyes that were probably intended as tits.
What the heck does she want?
Wayne, two locals, the tall, long-haired New named Alamo, and Bee glanced at him as he entered and made his way to the booth where Tris waited. She’d taken a seat in the rearmost part of the room, facing the door. Alamo offered a slow nod, a sign no bad blood existed. As with everything else, Kevin kept trust at arm’s length, though he returned the gesture. Tris scooted in as he joined her on the same bench. Bee dropped off two bowls of scrambled eggs mixed with chorizo bits and green chilies.
He huddled over it, savoring the rare treat of eggs. A couple locals sometimes sold Wayne a few, but he charged through the nose for them. Momentary irritation set in at Tris spending his money when cheaper food would do, but faded under the lump of angst at the beating his ledger entry had already taken. Hell, maybe s
he bought it with what Wayne paid her for givin’ Bee a reach-around this morning.
“You sure everything’s okay?” Tris looked up from her bowl. “You looked upset when I walked in.”
He mumbled over a mouthful of eggs, unable to explain to himself why he was more upset at the idea she was missing rather than his car.
She smirked.
“Yeah. Just pissy about the money.”
“You’ll catch it up.” She slipped an arm around him and rubbed his back. “There’s no rush on it, right?”
“Only not getting killed before I have enough.” He jammed his fork in the eggs and let it stand. “Wayne’s right. I’m gonna need more than ten grand. Bunch of crap to deal with. Finding a place. Stockin’ up. Havin’ a cushion to live on ‘till word gets ‘round there’s a new ‘house.”
Tris leaned forward over her bowl, keeping her eyes on him while stuffing her face. Something lurked at the tip of her brain, a thought she evidently didn’t want to say aloud.
“I know what you’re going to say.” Kevin stirred eggs until the smell of it got him hungry again and he ate a forkful. “How long will nine grand last? Do I need a roadhouse at all? Why don’t we go to New Dallas?”
She stared into her bowl, wearing a slight blush. “I thought it, but getting a house is your dream. I don’t want you to give up on it for me.”
“Mmm. Why are you blushing?”
“Oh, I dunno.” She stirred her food. “You said we. As in ‘we go to New Dallas.”
Kevin chuckled. “You still owe me 980 coins, gonna be ‘we’ for a while.” He felt guilty at the look she gave him. The line between serious and kidding blurred, even to him. As shock began to melt into hurt, he winked.
Tris narrowed her eyes.
“Be right back.” He took the bowl with him and wandered to the bar, eating along the way. “Yo, Wayne.”
“Damn shame about the Challenger.” Wayne shook his head. “Only a true malcontent would put bullets in such a fine machine.”
“Think we got ‘er back. Barely notice. Got any runs?”
“Not since I trusted a case of refried beans from Arnold. You see that sumbitch, you pop him for me.” Wayne’s ice blue eyes glimmered as he laughed. “Yeah, couple o’ postal runs. Farthest of ‘em goin up ta Kennewick.”
“What’s the pay?” Kevin slowed down, trying to make the eggs last longer.
“Driver’s cut’d be forty coins.”
Kevin scowled.
“If you’re willin’ ta play chicken with Infected, there’s a run payin’ the driver five hundred.”
“Define ‘playing chicken.’” He set the empty bowl on the counter. “Damn fine eggs, Wayne.”
“‘Preciate that. Juanita dropped off some sausage two days back. Run’s goin’ to little hole in the side of the mountain they call Nederland.”
Kevin racked his brain. “If it’s small…”
Wayne swiped the empty bowl. “With that machine you got, you ain’t goin off road, at least not up in the foothills. Best way inta the place is gonna be ta ride north and then take 119 west. Fastest for your speed demon to get there is takin’ 25 north through Denver and cuttin’ over on 95 toward the area what used ta be Boulder. Terrain’s a bit rough if you’re thinkin’ ‘o skirtin’ ‘round.”
“Oh, shit.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed. “Denver’s teeming.”
Wayne nodded. “Aye. Last word out says so. ‘Course, not like you gotta stop.”
He glanced at Tris. She smiled. “What’s the cargo?”
“Well… s’posed ta be confidential.” Wayne hovered close and lowered his voice. “Since I know the odds o’ you stealin’ is slim to shit, I’ll let ya in on it.”
Kevin put on a flattered grin.
“Three thousand rounds. Mix ‘o 5.56, 7.62x39, 7.62x51. ‘Bout half is 9mm para.”
“Fuck.” Kevin coughed. “Where the hell did all that come from? Ween can’t make that much that fast.”
“Ask your friend.” Wayne gestured at Alamo. “Says they found it in some smashed up heap what had fans ‘stead o’ wheels.”
Goddammit. Kevin closed his eyes, thinking back to the little black dot of a hand grenade disappearing under the skirt of an Enclave hovercraft. I should’ve gone back for salvage. That much ammo, I could’ve owned Wayne… and a roadhouse. He punched the front of the counter.
“Easy.” Wayne chuckled. “The Marauder is gone. Ain’t nothin’ you kin do ‘bout it.”
Kevin grumbled. “Nah. When I was runnin’ Tris up to H-burg, we got jumped by pair of Enclave land boats. Didn’t stick around to check for salvage. Son of a bitch.”
Wayne held his arms out in a ‘what can ya do’ shrug. “You got that look in your eye. I’ll write you in for it.”
“Yeah… yeah…” He walked back to the booth where Tris occupied herself with a cup of black coffee. “Got a job.”
“Okay.” She took another sip. “Where’s it rate on the scale of stupid things to do with a car?”
He flopped onto the bench seat, making her bounce. When Bee looked over, he pointed at her cup and gave the android a thumbs up gesture. “Pretty high, but no drugs.” Kevin laced his fingers together to keep them still. “Might be a few Infected.”
“Infected?” She grasped his hands. “How bad? You don’t need to do it if it’s too dangerous.”
Kevin smiled at Bee when she dropped off a cup of coffee. “Probably not as bad as it sounds. We won’t need to be on foot around them.” He explained the route Wayne suggested. “We could try and go around Denver and come in on Boulder from the north, but that area’s full of bandit caravans. At least six or seven of ‘em, and they’re usually shooting at each other… and everything else that gets too close.”
Tris picked at the rim of her mug. “Well, Infected don’t shoot back.”
“And the nomads might leave us alone if we don’t look like we’re making a run on them.”
She gave him a skeptical eyebrow lift. “You don’t sound like you believe that.”
“If the Infected are only supposed to last three months before the Virus kills them, maybe Denver’s empty. Risky to run nomad territory.”
“Are you sure the roads in Denver are even passable?” asked Tris. “If there are still Infected there, a blocked street could―”
“Be a pain in the ass.”
“Okay, let’s go around.” Tris clung to his side. “You’re almost as white as I am. Don’t do it to yourself. Phobias aren’t funny. Whatever you saw…”
“Naw, it wasn’t quite like that.” He swirled coffee in his mug. “The bandits dropped me off in this little camp. A pair of survivalists, Eva an’ Hemi, took me in. When I was about eleven, they decided to move. I still don’t know why.”
Tris frowned. “I’m sorry.”
“They’re fine.” He smiled. “As far as I know, they’re in a settlement bout forty miles north of Topeka still. Place is too boring, even for Infected. Anyway… When they got in their head to move, we joined up with this group caravanning east. Infected came after us one night. We’d camped too close to some big ass city. No nukes had hit it, so up ‘till the Virus came, there had to be a couple hundred thousand people still there.”
“Evil.” She stared into her coffee as if it could give her absolution for the sins of her ancestors.
“This guy they called Thorn, he got a piece of one up close. Punched its jaw right off. Must’ve nicked his knuckle on a tooth or something. I saw it, but I kept my mouth shut. Stupid thing ta do, but seein’ Infected at all scared the hell out of me. I watched Thorn get sick. By the time they figured it out, he’d gone manic.”
“Stage one… still some faculties left, but an overwhelming aggression takes over.”
Kevin took a long swig of coffee. “Yeah. Shot up the camp. Dunno how he managed not to kill anyone before they put him down. Two young guys from the caravan we hooked up with went ta bury him. Guess they got blood on their hands and wiped their eyes or somethin
g…” He set his coffee on the table. “I don’t think they were even seventeen yet. Soon as they realized they didn’t have the flu, the boys said goodbye, walked off, and shot themselves.”
“Oh, no.”
“They had to tie their mother to the bus to keep her from running after them.” He looked at her. “So yeah. It left a mark. Sometimes, I think the dreams are worse than what really happened.”
“Maybe Nathan was reckless to really put the cure in my head.” She spoke in a half whisper. “He knew I had the bomb. What if he was afraid someone would check the data first?”
Kevin frowned and set the cup down. “I’m not gonna bank on the Enclave being reckless.”
She let her hands fall in her lap.
He stood, and approached Alamo’s table. “Hey.”
The man looked up from the silver revolver he had open for cleaning. Tris walked up on Kevin’s left.
“Took your run. Ammo to Nederland? Never figured the News would sell ammo or have someone else drive it.”
Alamo shook his head while chuckling. “We’re only selling about a quarter of it. Operating expenses. B’sides, the people of Ned are in a bad way. And they’re decent folks.”
Dammit. That should’a been my ammo. “Decent folks… Yeah well. Let’s get this shit loaded.”
“I’m not sure I trust them,” said Tris. “These guys tried to grab me twice.”
“Old management.” Alamo braced the revolver with a thumb and slid in a .44 round. “Since I took over, I found some things.” Another round fell in with a click. “Raphael had some dealings with Neon in Glimmertown. Seems he wanted exotics to sell.” He dropped another bullet in place and turned the cylinder with his thumb. “Not what we stand for.”
“You’ll have to forgive us if we don’t trust easy, but I’m willing to give it a shot. So, where’d you find all that ammo?”
One More Run (Roadhouse Chronicles Book 1) Page 27