ZOMB-POCALYPSE

Chapter Fifteen

"I noticed this on our way in, but I didn't realize it was important," Ryan mutters as he turns the Ford off the highway.

My heart is still aching, but I also begin to feel a small flicker of hope. I know it's foolish. When this hope gets blown all to hell, I will feel the crushing agony again, but I want to have hope and prolong it a bit more if I can.

The ten miles down the road pass in the blink of an eye, probably because I am secretly dreading it.

I know Ryan will turn around right now and go back to Megan and Abby if I ask, but I also know that I need to finish this. I need to find out, once and for all, before I can even consider the rest of my life.

I'm anxious being this close to New York, or what's left of it anyway. There must have been so many zombies here, it's strange to me that they aren't swarming the truck in hoards. Could the bombing really have gotten all of them?

I get my first glimpse of the Hudson River and feel a dip of fear crawl into my stomach. What are we going to find? The river up ahead is massive, splitting a barren landscape in two. There are several docked boats that look like police cruisers.

Ryan eases up on the gas pedal. "If this goes down bad, run," he warns me, and I nod. I'm too stressed to even speak.

Soldiers armed with high-power assault weapons are everywhere, dotting the banks of the river. Ryan slows and rolls down the window as one of the soldiers walks over.

"Are you here for sanctuary?" The soldier is actually a woman with her hair pulled back into a severe bun. Her hat is pulled down low to shade her eyes.

"I'm looking for my parents. We heard about this place from Camp Freedom," I butt in on the conversation, undoing my seat belt to lean across the console so I can see her better.

I know it's sexist, but I relax a bit when I see the lady soldier—maybe these guys are legit after all.

The woman nods at us, "All visitors must submit to a full medical examination and a mandatory twenty- four-hour segregation from our general population."

I was expecting this after our rough introduction to military protocol, courtesy of Camp Freedom.

"Yes Ma'am," Ryan speaks for both of us, and she points to a large makeshift parking lot along the bank that's stuffed full of vehicles.

"Please park over there. You may keep your keys, and all of your belongings are your own to keep as long as they don't violate our rules and/or endanger other citizens. There is a list of restricted items posted in the parking lot, please leave those items in your vehicle."

My head is spinning. This doesn't feel like the apocalypse anymore. It feels more like a highly organized and well-oiled military machine at work.

"When you are ready to depart, you can join those soldiers over at the medical unit. They will inspect you and make sure you aren't violating any of our rules. You will lose your right to carry weapons temporarily, but as long as you survive for twenty-four hours in the box, you'll get them back." The lady soldier points toward a few makeshift tents set up beside the dock.

"What happened to the city?" I blurt out, and she gives me a look.

"I am sorry Miss, but I am not authorized to disclose that information. Now, if you will please make your way to the parkade." Her face does not invite further conversation, and Ryan puts the truck in gear. As we get closer, we can see the signs that are posted; they turn out to be large sheets of plywood that have been neatly spray painted.

This is a restricted military area. The following items are prohibited:

-grenades and other weapons of mass destruction