Civilization came to an abrupt and fiery end in August of 2021.
A primitive version of humanity crawled from the ashes decades later, re-establishing itself into a network of isolated settlements and camps. The future couldn’t be called bright, but at least people believed they had one―until The Virus started turning survivors into mindless killing machines thirty-five years after the bombs stopped falling.
Now, in 2073, the Roadhouse has established a sense of order among the various settlements, marauders, and the few poor bastards trying to survive on their own. Few have the guts to break The Code, or interfere with the men and women who’ve managed to cobble together working vehicles to drive under a Roadhouse banner.
But not all who sit behind the wheel are happy ducking bullets to move someone else’s worthless crap from town to town. Men like Kevin want more from life. He has dreams. He wants a Roadhouse of his own. He doesn’t care about anything else until he finds a conscience.
A conscience with bright blue eyes and snow white hair.
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