Salvation Station

Salvation Station

A strange orange glow surrounded the gate, as Stefano stopped the panel truck. Two armed men walked toward him. He turned to the woman next to him, who was tightening a grip on a handgun. “Just remain calm.”
An armed man wearing armored and a respirator approached, “I’ll need some I.D. You may have some questions to answer before coming in.”
“Of course,” Stefano handing the man his I.D. card.
The guard read the card, “New York? I didn’t think anyone survived. We’ve never seen anyone from there. Joey, come here.”
“I grew up in the city, but I was visiting family in Detroit when the lockdowns began. My uncle gave us some food and supplies and sent me and my cousins up north.”
“What’s going on here?” a larger armed man asked approaching.
“This guy has a New York City I.D. He was visiting family and made it out of the last lockdowns.”
The guard took the I.D., “How did you get here?”
“My cousin and I drove through Northern Michigan, Minnesota, and along the Canadian Border. It’s taken nearly a year. We’ve had to fight for fuel, food, and clean water. We were told there was hope here at Anchorage.”
“You can’t just come into Anchorage. You will need to be quarantined in the outer bunker. Please pull over there,” he said pointing at a large building to the right. “Park inside and they will process you from there.”
“We’ve made it,” the young woman said. “The others will they have room for them?”
“Others?” the first guard asked.
“In the back, we have twenty others, hoping for salvation.”
“We will process you all. Welcome to Salvation Station, the future of humanity begins here.”