Dean rolled down his window. “Easy now— Don’t want any trouble.” Dean looked over at Justin. “Son, where in tarnation are we?”
Justin shrugged. “Ye-ah, I’m sorta lost. There was this big—”
“Spare me the details,” Dean mumbled.
“Luther, you all right back there?” Dean asked as the men opened the sleeper compartment’s rear door.
“Not so sure,” Luther hollered back.
“Out of the vehicle!” The Trav’s doors flew open, and soldiers brandished weapons in their faces.
“If we’ve trespassed, I offer our apologies.” Dean’s voice was drowned by the soldiers’ shouts.
“This is a restricted area—authorized personnel only,” the words squawked over the loudspeaker.
“How the hell did you find it?” someone shouted.
Justin shrugged. “Dude, I was just driving.”
“Well, I’ll be a son of a gun. Did we stumble onto a military base?” Dean said in wonderment.
“This is Immigration Checkpoint Charlie. Personnel entrance only,” a soldier barked.
“Are you trying to get to Boom Town?” an unknown voice asked.
“The west end of the Old Santa Fe Trail,” Dean replied, looking around nervously.
“Right place—wrong entrance.”
“Relinquish all weapons,” a stern voice announced over the loudspeaker.
Justin squinted to get a better view, but the lights were too freaking bright, right in his face. “Okay, okay,” Justin muttered. He was more shocked than scared.
“Any weapons?” A soldier asked.
“Duh, what do you think?” Justin quipped like it was the stupidest question ever. The second Justin stepped out of the Trav, a soldier shoved him face-first against the hood of the vehicle.
Someone shouted, “Weapons on the ground. Slowly.”
Ye-ah, right. He couldn’t do anything with his face smashed against the hood. Next thing he knew, the three of them were thrown to the ground and roughly frisked.
“Fun’s over. On your feet,” someone shouted.
“Make up your freakin’ mind,” Justin snapped back before he realized it. Dean gave him a warning look. They didn’t look like the type to mess with.
“Any more in your party?” the loudspeaker blared.
“No, sir!” Luther announced loud and clear.
“Dudes, we’re just lost. Honest.” The levity of the situation was beginning to set in. Two more machine guns swiveled in their direction. He’d better cool it.
One of the soldiers spoke into his walkie-talkie-like radio. “False Alarm. Just a bunch of dumb-asses.”
The soldiers led the three of them down a maze of fluorescent-lit hallways until they reached a set of armed guards.
“Open up, Mac. They made one hell of a wrong turn. Damn, didn’t even get to use my new flamethrower,” the soldier said in a half-threatening and half-joking tone.
The doors opened. The barrels of automatic weapons shoved Justin, Dean, and Luther into another narrow corridor. The doors slammed shut. They looked at each other warily. Out of habit, Justin automatically reached for his gun. Shit. A wave of angst rolled over him.
A soldier entered. “We already had a shitty day, so don’t push my buttons. Had to kill six Infected. Just about to shut it down ’til zero eight hundred.” The soldier pulled out his radio. “Is the doc still here? Got three more to process unless you want me to lock them up for the night?”
Justin waited uneasily for the response while Dean and Luther exchanged bewildered glances.
“Send them through. Doubletime it,” a scratchy voice answered.
“All right, you heard the man. Let’s go!”
They strode down the endless corridor with only the sounds of their shoes bouncing off the narrow walls as the conversation. After the soldier unlocked another door, they entered a small waiting room. The soldier pointed to a row of chairs. “Complete the forms,” the soldier said, handing them each a clipboard of papers.
“Dude?” Justin moaned.
The soldier shook his head. “A heads-up, we don’t take any shit at Checkpoint Charlie. We’d just as soon send you back out there with the Infected than process the troublemakers. It saves us time in the long run.”
The look in the soldier’s eyes kept Justin from arguing.
“We’ll be on our best behavior,” Dean promised, Gibbs-smacking Justin on the back of the head.
Justin knew the smack had been for show. He put on a fake smile, grabbed the pen dangling from the clipboard, and then began filling out the forms. Really, my addresses for the past ten years? He couldn’t even remember his Social Security Number. It seemed totally irrelevant. Coldblooded. Their first encounter with the government and they wanted his SSN, instead of “Are you all right? How did you survive?” Justin wanted to scream. He chanced a look over the clipboard to Luther and Dean. They all had the same what-the-hell expressions on their faces. Two more soldiers walked into the stark room and stared at them with hurry-the-hell-up eyes.
“For the record. I came from Sacramento, not Oakland.” Luther’s tone was barely audible.
“Quiet!” A soldier stomped over to Luther.
Luther had been trapped in the Bay Area’s No Zone in the early days of the pandemic. The government or Secret Government had fumigated the Bay Area with a lethal toxin, which had somehow caused Luther to be a Z-magnet. Zs flocked to him. It was amazing Luther had lived so long.
A few minutes after they turned in their completed forms, an Asian man in a white lab coat came out of one of the rooms. “Justin Chen? This way.” He motioned when Justin stood up. Justin glanced back at Dean and Luther and then shrugged and followed the man into a doctor’s office.
“Disrobe. Completely. By the way, I’m Dr. Chong.” The young man pointed to the name tag pinned to his lab coat.
“What?” Justin moaned. Dr. Chong looked too young to be a doctor; he barely looked older than Justin. “Dude, are you for real?”
“All immigrants are processed accordingly. No exceptions,” Dr. Chong said blandly.
“We’re immigrants in our own country?” Justin retorted.
A soldier in the corner of the room made his presence known and pointed a Glock at him. “You heard the doc. Hurry it up. It’s chow time.”
“Last State is the only recognized state left in the U.S.” The doctor snapped on a pair of white rubber gloves.
Justin complied reluctantly. The doctor watched as he undressed, making him nervous. Everything’s so weird. Am I dreaming this?
“It’s cool,” the doctor whispered. “All we do is check for signs of infection. Specifically, bite marks.” The doctor briskly went over his body. “Any recent contact with the Z-virus?”
“So, that’s what they’re calling it,” Justin said.
“Naturally, there’s a medical term for it, although no one can pronounce it. Therefore, it’s been dubbed the Z-virus for obvious reasons.” Dr. Chong finally smiled.
“So, are you a real doctor?” Justin had to ask.
“I was in my second year of med school when it happened.” The young doctor seemed like he wanted to talk. The soldier’s daunting presence was probably keeping him quiet. “He’s clean,” Dr. Chong announced to the soldier. “You can get dressed now. Last but not least is the blood test.”
“What are you testing for?” Justin couldn’t wait to get out of there.
“Z-virus and Z-virus antibodies. We discovered a rare antibody, which continuously fights the virus. These people live normal lives. However, case studies are inconclusive at this time. Last State has better ways to spend their budget.” The doctor frowned. “Meaning, it’ll take years of red tape before we can create a vaccine.”
“So, if I have the Z-virus, will it show up in my bloodwork?” Justin worried, zipping up his jeans. He’d had a few close encounters with Zs. What if he’d been infected with a simple fingernail scratch?
“Affirmative.” The doctor p
atted the chair for him to sit down.
After the jab, Justin thought about his numerous Z de-activations. “How long does it take to get the results?” He couldn’t wait around for days or weeks when Ella was out there somewhere.
“You’ll know by morning. We do our own lab work,” the doctor finally replied after drawing several vials of blood. “We run tests from three different labs.”
“Uh, what if I don’t pass?” Suddenly the possibility he might be infected freaked him out.
“Then you can’t get into Last State. An Enforcer will escort you to quarantine.”
“Hey, nobody said anything about a quarantine. What about my friends?” Justin panicked.
“They’ll be joining you,” the doctor said without empathy.
Two guards escorted Justin through another long hallway. The next thing he knew, he was shoved into a small cell. “You’re putting me in jail? Don’t I have any rights?” Justin raved. You guys have been AWOL for months, and you’re treating me like a criminal.”
“Zip it,” one of the guards said and slammed the iron-barred door in his face. “Absolutely, no talking. Got it!”
“Sure, ye-ah, okay,” Justin huffed.
Justin sulked on the edge of the prison cell’s bed, wondering what the heck was next. He felt like a foreigner barred from entering his own country. And, what if Dean and Luther didn’t pass the blood test? Holy shit! What if I don’t pass it? How would he ever find Ella?
It was the longest thirty minutes ever. Justin was super relieved when two soldiers escorted Dean into the adjacent cell. Luther entered another thirty minutes later. None of them spoke. Apparently, no one dared risk antagonizing the guards posted at the end of the hallway. Justin was no longer in the mood to piss off anyone since the soldiers were the ones with all the guns.
After a few hours of restless sleep on the stained, sheetless mattress, boots stomped down the corridor. He jumped out of bed instantly. Justin, Luther, and Dean eyed each other hesitantly.
“Sure hope it’s good news,” Dean whispered.
“You and me both,” Luther whispered back.
A man in a fancy, blue officer’s uniform announced, “We’ve got the all-clear on you three.”
“Good God Almighty!” Luther cried out.
The officer led them through the maze of hallways, this time without brandished weapons. “Just a few more formalities. Remember, stay out of trouble,” the officer said in a low tone as he led them to another room. “Talk to the man behind the counter.” The officer left.
Luther happened to be first in line. He walked slowly to the counter while Dean and Justin hovered behind him.
“Your name?” The clerk behind the enclosed plexiglass window asked, sifting through a pile of paperwork.
“Luther Jones. Theoretically, what if we just want to leave, right about now?”
The clerk put the papers down. “Do you want to go to Boom Town or not?” His tone was testy.
“Is this a secret military base?” Dean stepped up.
The clerk grimaced and gave them an odd look like they were all a bunch of idiots. “This is the Point of Entry for Boom Town and Immigrant Station, otherwise known as Check Point Charlie.”
“Dude, what the heck is Boom Town?” Justin blurted.
“It’s Last States only official district west of the Texan border. It’s strictly policed by Last State Enforcers, keeping it protected from hordes and marauders.”
“What about the whole United States of America and ‘In God We Trust,’ patriotic BS?” Luther exclaimed.
“A fool’s legend like the lost city of Atlantis,” the man snarked.
“What in tarnation!” Dean gasped. His face had gone white.
“So, what’s the point of Boom Town?” Justin intervened, trying to use telepathy to tell Dean to chill and take a pill before he had an attack.
“For obvious reasons. Number one, it’s the safest place outside of Last State where an honest man can earn a legit living. Two, it’s where immigrants register to find displaced family members separated after the collapse. Three, people can purchase Last State Citizenship.”
“Wait—what? We have to purchase our citizenship?” Justin groaned.
“As I recall, Boom Town used to be a Wild West tourist town,” Dean interrupted.
“Yes. Same place. It’s growing fast. Located on the other side of this installation. Boom Town has two heavily guarded entrances. This is for official Immigration registration. And then there’s the non-citizens entrance.” The clerk looked down at the paperwork on the counter. “You drove here from Nevada? That took balls. The hordes have taken over the major roadways. More and more people are traveling by horse and buggy.”
“By George, you did it, son.” Dean slapped Justin on the back. “I don’t see how, but you got us here.” The color had returned to Dean’s face.
The man behind the counter looked down at the forms. “So, Justin is your son. I don’t see it on your form. Nevermind. Who owns the vehicle?”
Luther and Justin looked at Dean.
“Sign here. These are the weapons’ vouchers. Sign accordingly. And, I need each of your signatures on these.” He pushed the forms through the window slot.
“Dude, like what does it say?” Justin snapped.
“Does it matter? Just sign the damn forms. Here’s the gist of it; if you don’t do what Last State wants you to do, you’re banned and added to the Undesirables List. Trust me, you don’t want your name on that list,” the clerk uttered under his breath.
“How long can we stay in Boom Town?” Dean asked.
“Depends. Better fill out the Extended Stay Request form. In general, you can stay until you run out of money unless you secure employment,” the clerk said in a rehearsed-robotic tone.
“Any of you have any identification?”
“Hell no!” Luther responded.
“And how do you plan on paying for your visit to Boom Town?” The clerk looked at Dean as if he were the spokesman for their group.
An awkward pause. Besides their vehicle and personal effects, all they had were guns, ammo, gasoline, and a supply of food.
“The correct answer to the question would be—gold,” the clerk droned.
Luther frowned and pulled up his right sleeve, revealing an armful of watches. “Got me some fancy watches to sell.”
“Holy shit, dude. Where’d you get all those Rolexes?” Justin exclaimed.
“Let’s just say I have a klepto problem.” Luther gleamed.
“It will get you in. Moving right along. The ID agent hasn’t arrived yet, but I’m cross-trained on it. Step to the next window. I’ll take your ID photos. The chip apparatus is out for repairs. You’ll have to return. Can’t get into Last State without being chipped.”
“Hells bells, the first thing they do after society crumbles is brand us like a herd of cattle,” Dean grumbled.
After their pictures were taken, the clerk told them to sit down and wait for the IDs. “I feel like we’re at the DMV from Hell.” Justin smirked.
They waited, eyeing each other nervously. The clerk behind the counter finally tapped on the window and motioned to them. Justin made it there first. “You’re set. Sergeant Wilcox will escort you to Boom Town,” he said with finality.
A soldier entered the room. “I’m here to escort last night’s late arrivals,” Sergeant Wilcox announced with a hint of a smirk curling at the edges of his mouth. “After you.” He motioned, holding the door open.
Justin, Dean, and Luther didn’t argue. They followed the soldier down the flickering fluorescent hallway, speechless.
Justin couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “Dude, do we get our stuff back or what?”
“Your personal effects are waiting for you,” the soldier answered.
“Our weapons?” Luther asked.
“In the armory until you leave. No weapons allowed in Boom Town.”
“And our vehicle?” Dean asked.
“Saf
e and sound in the Depot until your departure.”
“Dude, this place is cray-cray?” Justin still couldn’t believe how dystopian it was.
They passed through another set of double doors. Sergeant Wilcox stopped. He turned around and stared the three of them down. “I’ve got to say—” He started laughing so hard, he had to lean against the door. “You should have seen the look on the colonel’s face when you drove up last night. Thought we were being invaded. He was shittin’ bricks.” The laughing continued. “And, the way Justin sassed. Surprised they didn’t RPG you. How the hell did you find that entrance? The guys at the barracks are still laughing their asses off. You guys are celebs.” He regained his composure quickly. “Cameras.” His smile faded instantly, and he nodded toward the ceiling. He continued down the hallway.
“Dude, I mean soldier—”
“Sergeant Wilcox,” he reminded.
“I was so lost. Dean said, no matter what, don’t miss the turnoff, or we’d have to take the highway. So, I kept driving around barricades, through the desert . . . I was determined,” Justin explained.
“How fortunate you managed to get lost. Most immigrants taking the main roads, well, they don’t make it,” the sergeant said vaguely.
“Why’s that?” Dean asked.
“If the hordes don’t get you, the highway robbers will,” Wilcox stated.
“You’re the ones armed to the teeth. Why not extend your patrols?” Dean commented.
“It’s a sad world, but we all have our orders. Last State is, let’s just say, very selective on how they use their manpower.”
“You mean Militia,” Justin corrected.
“Most of us were never in the military. We’re just the hired help. Enforcers are what they call us. Makes us sound official. Sure, we’ve been trained to defend and kill. At the end of our shifts, we’re just people trying to get on with our lives.”
“That’s cray-cray.” It made Justin pause to think about the grand scheme of things. Suddenly, he felt more insignificant than ever.
“Ready to check into the hotel?”
“All I’ve got to trade are these Rolexes.” Luther pulled up his sleeve.
“I see gold,” Wilcox affirmed.
Only The Dead Don't Die (Book 2): The Hunger's Howl Page 12
