Chapter 29
My shoulder hurt, actually it was killing me, but I had to keep driving, and with one arm at that. Chelsea was in too much shock to operate the car well enough for our safety.
I did not know what to do. What does a computer nerd who is good with guns do to console someone? I debated leaving it alone, to let the silence wash over us, but that would not do. “Chelsea,” I said, breaking the silence.
I was about to continue, but was interrupted. “You don’t have to,” she said. “I know.”
I don’t want to say that I was relieved by that, but I was. She was still there, not a broken conscience or an empty shell. I sighed in relief. The one thing that I respected most was the final wishes of a good dying man, and Daryl’s final wish had been for me to make sure Chelsea was safe. I would do that to the ends of myself if I had to.
We drove for about two hours, seeing signs for Kansas City most of the way. We passed by countryside and grasslands. The day was warmer than it had been in weeks and the sky was almost blindingly bright. Two hundred miles here, one hundred fifty miles, fifty miles, twenty miles, ten miles. It was then that the city finally came into view. Glorious skyscrapers filled the horizon, steel bodies and clear windows reflecting the light of the day. The steel forest was still miles away, but the sight filled me with energy.
“Look!” I said, pointing with my good hand which resulted in me taking my hand off of the wheel for a second. Fortunately Chelsea saw that and grabbed it, “Whoops, sorry.”
“What are you pointing at?” She asked in a voice that was dead but coming back to life with the growing scenery. Coal was shaken awake from her slumber on Chelsea’s lap when Chelsea grabbed the steering wheel. Her head was poking above the windows, head darting about as the scenery passed.
“There’s a helicopter there, circling above the city.” It was very high in the air, but rapidly growing bigger. It must have spotted us coming down the road as it was headed straight for us.
Eventually the chopper was directly overhead, the loud engine and spinning blades cutting the air shunned any other possible noise. A booming voice erupted from above, “Attention driver! You are entering a military safe zone. There will be five checkpoints guarded by armed military personnel. Please cooperate as they clear you. Be responsive and do not hide anything. This chopper will escort you the entire way. Be warned. We will fire upon suspicious activity. Do not make that happen.”
I erupted with a glorious smile, a smile that I had not worn in over two months, “Did you hear that? We’re here! They’re here. There is people! I mean there are people. Civilization is not completely dead!” I let out a whoop.
Even Chelsea could not contain some excitement, “Thank you, Zach, for everything. This would not have been possible without you.” She kissed me on the cheek. I’ll admit, my inner teenager tried to poke out with the kiss.
We hit the first military checkpoint about seven miles outside of Kansas City. There was a blockade across the highway, two tanks positioned with their barrels aimed directly at the car along with two Humvees with mounted turrets. They asked us to get out, held us at gunpoint while searching the car. The Sargent took away my weapons, claiming that I could have them back with special permissions once the inspections were all over.
We made it through the next three checkpoints which were similarly the same as the first. They just seemed to look harder as we went. They unzipped the backing of my seats, checked the wheel wells, and searched any crevice possible. The third checkpoint even went so far as to take out my radio and inspect what was behind it. I guessed that there had been members of the CRU who tried to break in before to contaminate the city along with others sneaking in weapons and such.
The final checkpoint was basically an entire military base. A man in his digital camo uniform approached us, signaling us to get out of the car. Suddenly a scary thought came to me as he turned his back to us, writing something on a clipboard handed to him by a dark skinned woman. I pulled Chelsea to me and put her ear up to my lips, practically kissing it, “You can’t say anything. Nothing about being bit at one point. Nothing about what we’ve been through. Nothing about him. They would probably shoot you here. Don’t waste all that we’ve come so far for. Don’t respond.” I nearly pushed her away. She glared at me but understood the meaning behind my words.
They took blood samples, poking me with a needle. I hated needles, like a lot. I just did not like the fact that someone was stabbing me to take a bit of me with them. It irked me. Needless to say, I nearly passed out when they jabbed my left arm with the needle, but I held my ground almost nicely.
“You’ll be staying here until your blood samples have been analyzed,” A lady marine told us. “You may call me Private Marie. I’ll show you to your quarters,” she said.
A man in a white lab suit walked over and handed Private Marie Coal’s carrying case. She nodded in thanks and held out the case for one of us to grab. Thankfully Chelsea grabbed it by the handle and looked inside. “What’d they do?” she asked with a bit more hostility than I think she intended.
“No worries. That man was a vet. You’re not the first people to come here with a pet,” she said, turning through an alley of tents.
