“Where are you taking us?” one of the kids asked, a girl, maybe a year or so younger than Brandon.
“Someplace safe.”
“That’s not really an answer,” one of the men said.
“That’s the answer you’re getting right now, sir.”
“Well, I’m not getting into anything until I know where I’m going. In fact…” The man stood up. “I want to talk to whoever’s in charge right now.”
“Sir, please be seated.”
The man scooted into the aisle and started walking toward the front.
“Sir, I’m warning you. Return to your seat now.”
The man kept coming.
“Sir, I will not say it again.”
“I don’t give a damn about your warnings. I want you to get—”
The man had been so focused on the soldier at the front that he hadn’t heard the one who moved in quickly behind him. With blinding speed, the protesting man was shoved to the ground, wrenched back to his feet, and forcibly marched to a seat in the very last row.
This wasn’t the first time Brandon had seen violence, so it didn’t shock him. The other kids, though, stared at the soldiers, looking scared out of their minds.
A moment later, the door swung open, and another soldier — a woman this time — stepped on board. She was a captain, the insignia on her uniform the same as Brandon’s father’s had been when he was in the army.
“Are we ready here?” she asked.
“One of our passengers isn’t being as cooperative as we would have liked, but everyone else is set.”
She turned to the cabin and said in a loud voice, “Good afternoon. I am Captain Valverde, and I am here to make sure you all get to your destinations. We’ll start with the children.”
Brandon was the last one the male soldier pointed at. He grabbed his pack, scooted into the aisle behind the two girls and the other boy, and headed for the door.
The air outside was brisk, but not as cold as Montana had been. As promised, there were two vehicles waiting. They were like a combo between a bus and a van, and reminded Brandon of a vehicle his family had ridden in when they’d gone to pick up a rental car at an airport once.
The door opened in the middle as they reached their vehicle.
“Please sit in separate rows,” Captain Valverde said.
Brandon took a seat near the back, then looked out the window in time to see the two male adult passengers coming down the stairs. The first was walking on his own, while the second — the protestor — was being half carried down. When they reached the tarmac, the second passenger tried to squirm away from the soldier holding him, but the only thing he got out of it was a fist in his gut and a punch to the jaw.
One of the girls let out a gasp.
The driver of their van, wearing a full containment suit, looked into the rearview mirror, stared at the girl for a moment, and dropped his gaze back to the front window.
Though Brandon didn’t have a view of the girl’s face, he could see she was shaking and thought she might start crying. The row across the aisle from her was empty. He gave it only a moment’s thought before he moved up next to her.
This drew another look from the man at the wheel, but Brandon ignored him.
“Hey, it’s going to be all right,” he said to the girl.
She looked at him, tears running down her cheeks. “I want to go home.”
“We all do,” he told her. “But we can’t right now.”
“I want to go home.”
“When this is over, they’ll take you home.”
“Really?”
“They’re not going to hurt us. They’re just trying to keep us safe from, you know, what’s happening out there.” He pointed out the window. “The flu.”
He could see she wanted to believe him. He reached across the aisle and took her hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure everything’s okay.”
“Hey! What’s going on?” The voice came from the front of the van.
Brandon immediately dropped the girl’s hand and turned forward. Captain Valverde was staring at him from near the front row.
“I was helping her calm down, that’s all,” Brandon said.
The captain considered him for another moment, then said, “You’re sitting too close. You need to move to another row.”
As he stood up, he whispered to the girl, “What’s your name?”
“Loni.”
He smiled. “I’m Brandon.”
“Thank you, Brandon.”
The van took them across the base, out a main gate, and toward the mountains. For the first few minutes, Brandon watched the other van follow them, but before they left the base, it turned right and moved out of sight. He never saw it again.
For thirty minutes, they wound their way higher and higher in the mountains before turning down a narrower road. On the whole trip up, Brandon saw only two other vehicles, both military. With the roads here clear of snow, it felt even odder than when he’d been walking down the deserted highway in Montana.
Another turn took them onto a narrow, one-lane road with a sign arcing over the entrance that read:
CAMP KILEY
The road twisted through the trees for nearly ten minutes before they reached a clearing with eight identical rectangular buildings in two rows of four to the left, and three larger buildings to the right. Straight ahead was a covered picnic area that went right down to the edge of a small, frozen lake.
The van pulled to a stop in front of one of the larger buildings. There were lights on inside, and steam covering the windows.
“All right. This is our stop,” Captain Valverde said. “But I need to check one thing first.”
“What is this place?” asked the girl Brandon hadn’t talked to yet.
“Camp Kiley. Didn’t you read the sign?” the boy said.
“Yeah, I read the sign, but that’s not what I meant.”
“Hold it down,” the captain said. “This is a temporary resident facility for unaccompanied minors.”
“Unaccompanied minors?” Loni said.
“Means kids who are alone,” the boy announced as if she were stupid.
“How long do we have to stay here?” the first girl asked.
“Until we know the flu has run its course, and it’s safe for you to return home.”
“What if it’s never safe?”
Captain Valverde smiled compassionately. “That won’t happen. Don’t worry.”
A soldier exited the building and walked over to the van. When the door opened, he stuck his head in and said, “You’re all clear.”
“Excellent,” the captain said. She turned to the kids and pulled her mask off her face. “Good news. You’ve all passed your blood tests, and none of you have the virus.”
Brandon wasn’t surprised by his results. His father had passed down the gene that made him immune. Unless the others also had the immunity, they were just lucky.
“Leave your masks in the van,” the captain instructed them, “and follow me.”
She escorted them into the building, which turned out to be a cafeteria. There were close to fifty people present. Only half a dozen were adults. The kids were anywhere from kindergarten age to almost old enough to be done with high school.
Two soldiers were standing by the door as they walked in. One of them pointed at Brandon’s backpack. “Need to search that. Can’t have any weapons or things like that here.”
“Oh…um, sure.” Brandon handed over his pack.
The other kids also had their bags searched. Once everyone was cleared, Captain Valverde took them to the front of the room.
“Good afternoon, everyone,” she said in a voice loud enough for the whole room to hear.