"Attention! All vehicles must maintain orderly lines. Medical personnel will conduct inspections. Failure to comply will result in severe penalties."
Night had fallen. Moonlight bathed the interstate in silver. Headlights from countless vehicles formed a river of light. Atop the barrier wall, soldiers swept searchlights across the surrounding darkness, watching for anyone trying to sneak into the city.
"What's your plan once you're inside?" Osborne asked, leaning back in the driver's seat and stifling a yawn. He was curious what Bryan intended to do next.
Interstate 35 was the fastest route from the south into Dallas. The queue had already been massive when they arrived. Between that and the glacially slow checkpoint inspections, they'd been waiting nearly nine hours and had only just reached the wall.
Behind them, vehicles continued to stream in from every direction. The line of cars still stretched endlessly into the distance, as if it had never changed.
Yet despite the crowding, not a single horn sounded. Everyone waited in patient, desperate silence—all for the chance to pass through those gates.
Bryan gazed out at the night sky. "When we were in Austin, we met an old man named Armand. He invited us to come to Dallas with him, but we had to find Sarah's family first, so we went our separate ways..."
He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. "He left us an address, though. I'm hoping to find him—get some information about what it's like inside. After that... I need to figure out how to get to Washington. My parents are there."
Having explained his plans, Bryan asked, "What about you? Do you have somewhere to go?"
"Not really." Osborne shook his head with a sigh. "I'll contact my old Army buddies first and report what's happening in Austin. Don't worry about me—worst case, I've still got this RV."
Bryan nodded. Before he could say more, the vehicle ahead finished its inspection and moved through. It was their turn. He turned toward the back of the RV and clapped his hands twice. "Ladies—we're up. Get ready."
...
The RV rolled to a stop at the checkpoint. A soldier in a hazmat suit approached the window and rapped twice on the glass, his expression stern, signaling them to roll it down.
As the window descended, the soldier peered inside. His eyebrows rose slightly—a middle-aged man and three kids. For some reason, his demeanor softened a fraction. "Sir, please have everyone exit the vehicle. We need to inspect both you and the RV."
"Of course."
Once all four of them stood beside the RV, Bryan watched a soldier approach with a rectangular device topped by a cylindrical sensor. An infection scanner.
Two more soldiers boarded the RV to search for any hidden passengers.
The soldier with the scanner moved behind each of them in turn, pressing the sensor to the back of their necks and pressing a button. Each time, the device beeped twice and announced: "No infection detected."
Once all four had been cleared, another soldier approached with a clipboard. He asked for their names, ages, and previous addresses, and questioned them about their relationships and whether they had any relatives in the city.
The whole process took about ten minutes. Once the soldiers confirmed there were no issues, they granted passage. One of them radioed the control booth to open the gate.
The military wasn't about to let freshly-arrived survivors wander freely through the city. When the RV reached a designated assembly point, a soldier in a small utility vehicle pulled in front of them, waving for them to follow.
The interior of Dallas was far worse than it had looked from outside. Open areas like parks had been transformed into dense tent cities. Even from inside the moving RV, they could hear the sounds of grief and weeping drifting through the canvas walls.
They drove for nearly half an hour. Everywhere looked the same. It was becoming clear that as safe zones within the city filled up and the number of incoming survivors continued to climb, Dallas would reach capacity within days.
The guide vehicle led them to an abandoned industrial complex. A tall chain-link fence topped with barbed wire split the vast lot in two. The left side was packed with tents. The right side was organized into parking spaces marked by white lines, each slot sized for a single vehicle. RVs were parked in neat rows.
"Weird. Why are there only RVs here?"
Bryan noticed the pattern and found it curious.
"Not that strange, actually," Osborne explained. "Regular cars are just vehicles. But RVs are homes. And who gets to keep their home?" He smiled wryly. "The joys of living in a free and democratic nation."
Once the RV was backed into its assigned spot, the guide hopped out and walked over to Osborne. He handed him a small booklet and four ID cards.
"These are your supply ration cards. Dallas is currently under martial law. Curfew begins at 8 PM. There's a lot of other important information in the booklet—read it carefully. And don't cause trouble."
With that, the soldier turned without another word, climbed back into his vehicle, and drove off.
"Well, well! Got myself some new neighbors!"
Moments after the soldier left, the door of the adjacent RV swung open. Out stumbled a disheveled, clearly drunk old man clutching an empty bottle. He dropped into a lawn chair and waved at them in greeting.
Seeing the old man, Bryan's mind raced. He ducked back into the RV, grabbed two bottles of liquor, and came back out. He sat down beside the old man and started chatting him up.
"What's he doing?" Kelly asked her father, puzzled by Bryan's sudden friendliness with a stranger.
"Ah, he's gathering intel." Osborne gave his daughter's head an affectionate pat, watching Bryan with new respect. "Come on—let's get some rest. We've got a busy day tomorrow."
As the father and daughter climbed into the RV, Sarah stayed behind. She sat on the step, chin resting in her hand, quietly watching Bryan's profile.
The drunk old man was overjoyed by the gift of alcohol. Suddenly, the kid in front of him seemed like the most agreeable person in the world. He answered every question Bryan asked.
"The military hands out supplies at nine every morning in the central district. But remember—guard your ration card with your life. Those soldiers only care about the card, not who's holding it. And always carry a weapon when you go pick up your share, or you'll get robbed for sure..."
"Sure, there are protests. But take my advice—don't join them. Stupidest thing you could do..."
"That address should be in the North District—not too far from here. When you leave, turn right and keep going straight. You'll find it..."
"No idea how to get out of the city. But honestly? I'd tell you not to bother. Don't believe what they're saying on TV about the infection being contained. It's chaos out there... How do I know? Heh—I came from the west. Think there's anything I don't know? And what's it matter anyway? Same shit everywhere!"
"..."
The old man didn't know everything, but what he did know, he explained in thorough detail.
Armed with a basic understanding of the situation inside Dallas, Bryan helped the drunk back to his RV. He'd also learned the man's name—Antoine.
"What's wrong, Sarah?" Turning to head back to their RV, Bryan noticed Sarah sitting on the step, staring at him. He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.
"Huh? Nothing!"
Caught off guard by his question, Sarah felt her cheeks warm. She quickly recovered and asked, "So? Did you learn anything useful?"
"Hard to say." Bryan turned over everything he'd just heard in his mind, his expression troubled. "But it looks like we might not be able to leave anytime soon."
His suspicions had been confirmed. The outbreak was spiraling out of control. That meant everywhere else was probably just as dangerous. He was starting to wonder if pushing on to Washington was even worth the risk.
"So what do we do now?" Sarah's heart gave a small, guilty flutter at the news that they might be staying.
Her family was gone. She didn't want Bryan risking his life out there anymore. But she knew he had his own family to find. She had no right to stop him. So she said nothing—just kept those thoughts buried deep inside. Wherever he went, she would follow.
"Let's sleep on it." Bryan checked the time and took Sarah's hand, leading her up into the RV. "We'll find Armand tomorrow and see what he has to say. Then we'll decide."