The military truck rumbled past the police station, the morning sun burning through the mist over Lagos. Daniel held onto the wheel as it vibrated across uneven asphalt. Musa sat in the passenger seat, bracing himself against the dash every time they hit a whole new set of potholes.
A metallic sound echoed up from the underbelly of the vehicle.
Musa shot a glance at Daniel. "Daniel. Did you hear that?"
"Yep."
"What was it?"
"I don’t know."
Musa turned to look at him. "You don’t know?"
Daniel kept his eyes on the road. "I’m not a mechanic."
Musa was silent for a moment or two. "You should have been honest about that before we left."
Daniel gave him a tired smile. "Would you have stayed behind?"
Musa thought about it. "Nope."
"Exactly."
Another noise came from somewhere below the truck. Musa sighed. "I really don’t like the sound of this."
"Neither do I."
There were twelve people in the truck: four soldiers and eight civilian. Most of the latter were piled into the back with whatever little they’d managed to salvage. A young girl, Sarah, sat cross-legged next to her mother, peering out of the gap between the front seats.
"Are we going somewhere safe?" she asked. Daniel shot a glance at the child in the rear view mirror.
"We’re looking for somewhere safe," he answered.
"But you don’t know where it is?" the girl frowned. Her mother gave a gentle squeeze to the child’s shoulder.
"Don’t worry about it, Sarah." Sarah looked up at Daniel.
"You’re a soldier! Aren’t soldiers supposed to know where we’re going?"
Musa turned his face away from the window to hide a smile. Daniel noticed.
"You find that funny?"
"Nope."
"You are smiling."
"I’m tired."
"You are terrible at lying."
Musa eventually gave a small chuckle. Sarah regarded the two men with big, puzzled eyes, then laid her head against her mother’s shoulder. In a matter of a few minutes it would all be forgotten and Daniel was thankful. It was important that he remembered the people in the back were real people with real lives that had, until recently, been cut short. All of them placed their trust in people like him who had yet to understand the scope of the situation.
Daniel’s stomach twisted. He focused back on the road.
Some minutes later the radio crackled.
Daniel grabbed it up straight away, switching channels. "Anyone... anyone receiving this transmission, respond please."
There was only static.
He pressed the button. "This is Lieutenant Daniel Cross. We’re heading north with a group of civilians. Do you copy?"
Nothing. Musa leaned forward. "Try again."
Daniel did. This time his transmission was met with the crackle of something more. Someone’s voice came through the interference.
"...Cross... repeat your location."
Daniel picked up the mic. "We’re heading north out of a police station near the western district. We have four soldiers and eight civilians with us. Do you have any information on an evacuation point?"
There was a long pause. Then the voice spoke again.
"Copy. Avoid the central district. There has been military activity there. Proceed north."
Daniel frowned. "What sort of military activity?"
More static. He pressed the button again.
"Repeat. What sort of military activity?"
The channel went dead.
Musa glanced at Daniel. "That was helpful."
Daniel placed the radio down on the seat. "It’s better than nothing."
One of the civilians shifted forward in the back seat. "Lieutenant?"
Daniel met the man’s eyes in the rear view mirror. "What is it?"
"Did they say there was an evacuation center?"
"Not exactly."
The man’s face fell. Daniel caught the look. "But they know that there are people going through there. We’re continuing on."
"Where?"
Daniel hesitated. "North for now."
The man gave a reluctant nod and Daniel could tell he wasn’t fully satisfied. He understood. Daniel wasn’t satisfied either.
They drove most of the next hour before the checkpoint appeared on the horizon.
Sandbags were stacked along the road, two armored vehicles waiting behind the line of vehicles. More towers of communication equipment stood behind a cluster of tents. For a few minutes relief flooded through the truck.
Then Daniel noticed the absence of guards. No one was manning the checkpoint. He slowed the vehicle and came to a steady stop. "Stay here."
Musa was already halfway out the door. "I’m coming."
Daniel shot him a look. "I said stay here."
"I’m saying I’m coming."
Daniel stared him down before finally sighing. "Fine. Keep your weapon at the ready."
They got out of the truck into the relative stillness of the area. Only the engine had the sound as it ticked over behind them. Musa walked to one of the armored cars and paused. The doors hung open from the inside, the ground littered with empty ammo boxes and a helmet.
"They didn’t stop normally," Musa said. Daniel nodded, noting the tire tracks that ran off in the opposite direction of the truck. Several vehicles had left in haste. He walked towards the comm tower, listening to the interference coming from the radio. Adjusting frequencies had only netted him broken words.
"...any units in the area, avoid—"
The rest was static. He set it down on the table and glanced around the now empty tents. A map was lay out on the table, several marked spots circled and one completely crossed off. Alongside another location a hand written note had been scrawled: Survivors reported near eastern industrial district.
Daniel picked up the map as Musa read over his shoulder. "You think they’re still there?"
"I don’t know."
"Then what are we doing?"
Daniel turned back to the truck, watching the faces of the civilians through the windows. He folded the map up. "We’re headed east."
Musa frowned. "That’s not the direction they told us to take."
"They told us to avoid the central district. They never said we couldn’t head east."
Musa mulled over the words. "Fair enough."
They took supplies with them -ammunition, fuel, medical kit, the working radio. No soldiers. Daniel was far more bothered with the former than the latter. Someone had left in a hurry and he didn’t have the luxury of asking questions.
The truck turned east and the conversation in the back fizzled out. Daniel drove with the map spread across the dashboard, reading the marked place every so often as he could. The roads became tighter and the buildings more industrial before the first signs appeared: burnt out vehicle, fresh footprints, a scrap of cloth caught on a broken fence. Daniel slowed and Musa looked up ahead.
"People?"
"Maybe."
The truck stopped and Daniel stepped down, one of the civilians starting to climb out the back. He stopped them with a hand. "Stay in the truck."
He walked to the broken fence where he found blood on the ground, a few drops but fresh. He crouched down next to it, feeling how warm it was. Musa came to stand beside him.
"Monster?"
"Could be."
Something moved to the side of the warehouse and Daniel raised his rifle, silencing the conversation behind him. The sound of metal grinding against concrete echoed out and he gave a tight nod to the figures behind him. "Hello?"
Nothing. He entered the warehouse, the loose dust swirling in small shafts of light from the torn roof. Then the voice began again, softer this time.
"Please... don’t shoot."
Daniel lowered the rifle just slightly. "I’m not going to shoot you."
The man emerged slowly from behind some crates, his clothes streaked with dirt and blood. The uniform underneath was medical not military.
"Where are the others?" Daniel asked as the man glanced over the crates.
"Hospital."
"What hospital?"
"The one near the industrial road."
"Are there people there?"
The man nodded. "A lot."
Daniel gave a glance to Musa. They’d finally found what the map had been talking about. Not an evacuation center or anything more grand, just people.
Daniel looked at the wounded man. "Can you walk?"
"Yes."
"Then come with us."
The man hesitated. "You’re going to the hospital?"
Daniel looked back towards the road. "Yes."
He didn’t know what they would find there. He didn’t know if the people inside were safe. But for the first time since leaving the police station, he had somewhere to go that was more than a name placed on a piece of paper.
He helped the man towards the truck, Musa watching him carefully. "Think this is a good idea?"
Daniel looked at the wounded man climb in the back. "No."
Musa raised an eyebrow.
Daniel opened the drivers door. "It’s the first useful lead we’ve got all day."
He climbed in and started the engine. They rolled towards the industrial district, none of them knowing that the road ahead would eventually lead Daniel into the path of people whose lives had begun to cross over into the same odd new world.