Vanguard | Post-Apocalyptic YA

Part 31: Roadblock

"That's certainly going to make for an interesting reunion," Bradford guffaws when he hears of Dad's plans to mount a search party for the man whose identity he stole over twenty years ago.

The governor arrived soon after nightfall with extra trucks to take people back to base, and while surprised by the discovery of the coded message, his abrupt amusement doesn't hinder his support. Having actually gotten his hands on a ferry and with volunteers at the ready, he easily authorizes our request to find the real Darren Scott and hopefully, the needed radioactive matter. I'm fairly certain he's not sorry to have me, Ellen and our father go because he considers us to be disposable, but he does need a ferry pilot, so he keeps Ray back in O-town. Naturally, Nelly can't be held back from going after her own dad, and Jed joins us to make sure she stays safe.

Although Bradford gives us a six seat, solar operated minivan, water and a few weapons, he can't spare extra food, especially with the unexpected arrivals from Vanguard. He tells us that we'll have to find our own supplies on the road, and Dad immediately agrees to those conditions.

Thegovernor's two-day deadline for our return is another matter. Threatening tostrip Vanguard of its nuclear fueland leave its occupants behind so he could move his people North with the ferryif we don't make it back within forty-eight hours, he willingly puts the biggest obstaclein our path. Dad ultimately manages to negotiate up by another day, but we all fear thatstill won't be enough.

With Jed driving and Nelly riding shotgun, Dad and Ellen seated in the middle row, and me in the rear jump seat next to our meager supplies, we head off.

"How far away is this place? That nuclear plant?" I ask soon thereafter.

"Roughly a hundred miles due south," Nelly says over her shoulder. "Why?"

"Well, you said that it took your dad and his team days to get down there, but at the speed I'm guessing we're going, it should take us a couple of hours at the most," I say, watching the scenery pass by as Jed navigates out of the city. He only slows to turn onto another road leading to something marked as I-95S.

"The weather two months ago was worse down here," Nelly says. "It was much more overcast, which would have been good for travelling during the day if their batteries didn't need the sun to recharge them. The three of them were also on motorbikes, so their max speed was way less than ours."

"Why didn't they just bring one of these vehicles?" I ask, remembering a small fleet of similar cars back at the O-town garages.

As if irony was dead, we begin to slow while Jed points ahead. "That's why."

We've been on this four-lane road for less than a mile, but up until now, it had been just as empty as all the other streets leading out of Port Canaveral. I hadn't even given the lack of abandoned cars any thought, and now I see why I'd been remiss not to.

The prior emptiness clearly wasn't organic. It had been deliberately engineered with traffic deterrents in either direction. Going north, it forced cars off the highway before they could enter the city, while in the southern direction, it made them exit this major road before they could leave it. On the other side of the horizontal roadblocks, cars are lined up more or less in a solid mass as far as the eye can see.

"Oh," I whisper, better understanding both why the original group chose motorcycles and why our trip is expected to take more than just a few hours. But I still have a question. "I guess another way wasn't an option because . . .?"

Neither of them replies, which makes me think they're either already getting tired of me or the answer is obvious. I guess it doesn't make a difference, especially since I'm not the one at the controls. In any case, there's a single car-sized gap in the barricade, so it's obvious that someone has gone this way in the last twenty years. Jed drives through it without hesitation and immediately yanks the steering wheel to the right to avoid a previously hidden crack in the road before heading to the very edge of the far right lane. It's comforting that this isn't his first time on this route because as confident as I tried to appear earlier when volunteering for this mission, I'm feeling more and more out of my element.