Checkpoint Todd
They stopped somewhere near the city outskirts.
"Alright, this is it boys," Tess said, handing another round of water and granola bars to her crew.
"What is it?" Joel asked, perplexed.
There was nothing out of the ordinary - they were on the aterial highway leading out of the city. Cars and buses zigzagged the street. The soft wind whistled through broken windows. An acrid stench of sewerage and crocodile dung permeated the air.
"This is Checkpoint Todd. This is one of our drop off zones," Tess answered, handing Joel a water bottle.
Joel took it and swallowed with less reluctance, accepting the fact that he wouldn't probably taste alchohol for a while to come.
Tess appeared to notice his marked expression.
"Oh come on Texas, I know how hard it is to hold out. Believe me, I miss it too. Makes it easy to forget, right?"
Joel inclined his head, but said nothing.
"Tell you what, I know a guy who can find you some quality liquor back in Boston. Quite cheap, as well."
"Sounds promising," Joel said, feeling himself brighten a little.
Tess smiled back.
A cheer from the crew interrupted them. They seemed to be looking at something in the distance, North of the road opposite the Chicago QZ, which was now blocked from view by other buildings.
"What is it?" Joel asked.
"It's our lift home," Kyle replied, with a smile of relief.
When Joel followed their gaze, he could discern a military truck headed their way. Instinctively, he wanted to hide - the cause of years of living in a military dictatorship with set curfews and deathly repurcussions for disobeying the law. There was an overwhelming sense of power and authority watching these FEDRA military trucks roll through town, when he was back in Boston. This one was slightly modified, waving a green flag to show they weren't military. The front was fitted with steel rams that cleared their path with ease. He watched the big, thick tires roll up onto the sidewalk, and the ridiculous grin on the face of the driver as he shouted; "Come on! We ain't got all day!" Had he any sense of awareness, as all drivers should, he'd have known better to keep his voice down. But Joel wasn't going to argue. He just wanted to get home. Or rather, a place of familiarity. He followed the others around the back of the truck and hopped inside.
Joel hadn't been in a car in seven years. He couldn't say he missed it, but there was still a somewhat heartwarming element to it. And you needed to cling onto those moments. Because otherwise, Joel feared, the world would lose all sense and nothing would be worth living or fighting for. The truck swayed and bounced, knocking Joel's head around the plastic headrest each time he tried to repose. He realised he was exhausted. Mentally and physically. The crew around him looked it too. But not Tess. She seemed to have a resilience unapplicable to any of the men around her. She kept tending to Lionell's wound, using medical supplies from the truck. He wondered if there were any doctors with experience in surgery, who weren't military. Probably very few. But they'd know one, for sure. He watched as Tess prepared another syringe, her actions unaffected by the movement of the truck, and injected the morphine into her colleague. Slowly, the pain in Lionell's face subsided, and he relaxed into his chair. Tess caught Joel's eye.
"He'll be fine, as long as we get him to a doctor," she said, repacking the heath kit and taking a seat beside Joel.
"Yeah," Joel said.
There was an obvious tension in the truck. And the cause wasn't Lionell's injury alone. They'd escaped Chicago, managed to get a ride to Boston, all relatively okay. And by God, they were lucky. But getting into Boston was a different matter entirely. It would probably be the most difficult task of all. And despite the crew's enthusiasm, each of them knew the risks. Of course they would. Joel was only beginning to realise how leaving Boston could have been the biggest mistake he'd ever made.
"Hey, are you okay?" Tess asked, breaking his train of thought.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Yourself?"
His voice came heavy and dry, weighted with the prospect of what lay ahead.
"Could be better. But that applies to all of us, doesn't it?"
"Yeah," Joel said.
In many ways, the world of humans was a much greater place. Despite the contention of war, global warming and natural disaster, there was a place where you could experience true happiness. Where things made sense, where he had a career, where he was a father, where he could rely on security and order, where he could see everything, right in front of him. Having that torn from his life all in less than two hours was irrefragably the worst experience, an indefinite vastness of loss and anguish. Surviving was unbearable. Living was unbearable. The world may as well have not existed. Joel looked back on his early years of survival with contempt. He despised himself. Couldn't even bring himself to bury Sarah. On that turbulent night he shouldered her lifeless body, fueled by a sense of anger and fear, and ran as far as his legs would take him, and then some. He carried her as far as the next town, convinced her spirit would return when the nightmare ended. But it never did. Never had. Never will. For months he was frozen in a melancholic state, locking himself indoors, hating the world, people, himself, and not a second of it was spent sober. Of course it wasn't. He was too weak and pathetic to face the severity of the truth with a clear conscience. But over time, he had learned to accept the truth. The old world was dead. Fellow people were competitors for survival. Sarah could never be brought back. And he'd have to fight for every minute he got to live. Because, that's what matters most in this world.
In more ways than he was willing to admit, his younger brother Tommy had handled it a lot better than he. For one thing, he wasn't dependent on alchohol for emotional diversion, as Joel was. Then again, Tommy wasn't the one whose daughter died in his arms. He didn't even have children. At least, before the outbreak. They'd been separated for so long, he could well have met someone and had a couple of kids. He told himself he didn't care.
"Did I lose you again, Texas?"
Tess' light humor drew him back from the depths.
"Yeah, sorry. Kinda zoned out," He apologized.
Joel squinted in the warm glaze of the setting sun.
"Don't be. We all have our moments."
"Yeah."
Although Joel didn't fully understand what she meant.
"You're not one to talk much huh?" Tess said.
Joel noted the lightness in her tone and discredited the thought she was questioning his integrity.
"Well, I've got a lot on my mind. I must admit, I'm not too comfortable around people."
"I kinda got that impression from the bar in Chicago."
Yeah, that's right. The bar. Joel wondered how it looked now, the flames still burning, a scant few dying to embers, helicopters circling in dramatic arcs, hundreds of bodies torn to pieces by infected.
He looked to the other men in her crew, who to his surprise were not taking any interest in their conversation. But then, what reason had they to do so? All everyone could think about, with the exception of the maniacal driver at the wheel of their truck, was what had been, and what was to come.
"You know, I'm glad I found you. I'm sorry about your pack. Really. If you want, we can hook you up with some equipment," Tess offered.
"No, that's fine. You don't need to do that. You were right, the pack doesn't matter. Just got a bit attached to it, is all."
"Well, that's okay. But tell me one thing; what d'you plan to do when you get back into Boston?"
If I get back into Boston, Joel added, with a note of severity.
"Um, that's a good question," He said. "Probably pick things up where I left off, I s'pose."
"Tell you what, then. If you'd prefer to load boxes off crates, that's fine. But if you want to make a living in this world, you can't be weak or dependent. You've gotta be willing to do the stuff others can't, or won't. You seem strong enough to hold your own. And we could honestly use an extra pair of hands. Plus, there's a reasonable payment benefit. Not like the shitty jobs for the military. I'm sure that'll get you all the alchohol you need."
Joel took a moment to contemplate. They sat in silence as the truck undulated over the uneven terrain.
"Alright. I'm in."