Listening to the officer rattle off the QZ's regulations, the assembled survivors stood dumbfounded.
After covering the key points, the one-eyed officer didn't elaborate further. He waved to a soldier beside him and said, "Take them to get sorted."
Several soldiers then led the crowd through the camp to a fenced checkpoint that stretched across the entire street, dividing it into inner and outer sections. There were two-way passage lanes, each guarded by a pair of soldiers—wide enough to accommodate military trucks.
Atop the fence ran a patrol walkway where two soldiers paced back and forth. A guard tower had been erected beside the gate, with an American flag fluttering at its peak. Inside, another soldier kept watch over the area.
Beyond the fence, a scattering of people wandered the streets—some aimlessly drifting, others leaning against walls chatting. When they noticed the arriving group, they cast curious glances their way.
"When I call your name, step forward and collect your identification."
Once the group had assembled, the lead soldier retrieved a small box from the guard post. He pulled out a handful of ID cards, spread them open, and began calling out names.
"Kenny."
"Mearns."
"..."
One by one, people stepped forward to claim their IDs. Bryan received his without issue. He glanced down at the photo printed on it and couldn't help grimacing. Ugh... that's an awful picture.
After all the IDs had been distributed, the soldier addressed the group directly: "What I just told you were only the most critical regulations. Now I'll explain the QZ's rules in more detail.
"The Atlanta Quarantine Zone is currently divided into seven districts. Checkpoints are established at every connecting point between districts. You'll now draw lots to be randomly assigned to one of these seven areas. Guides will then escort you to your assigned district and arrange your housing.
"Each district has designated industrial zones that have been preserved. Those will be your workplaces. Outside of working hours, unauthorized entry will be treated as theft, and you'll be expelled from the QZ.
"All children between the ages of six and fourteen must attend school. Those between sixteen and eighteen may choose to attend school or join the workforce. After turning eighteen, unless you demonstrate special talents, the school will no longer accommodate you.
"Additionally, unless the military issues a notice, a curfew is in effect starting at 8 PM every night. Anyone found wandering the streets without valid reason will face severe punishment depending on the circumstances.
"And finally—" The soldier's eyes suddenly turned cold, his gaze sweeping over them with an ominous edge. "Do not, under any circumstances, approach the military district without authorization. Regardless of the reason, if you're spotted by patrol soldiers, you will be shot on sight—no exceptions, no questions asked."
Meeting the soldier's icy stare, many who had been looking directly at him shuddered and quickly averted their eyes.
"If you want to know more about specific districts, you can ask around once you get there."
The soldier then produced a lottery box and had everyone line up to draw. Since Bryan, Sarah, and Allen were all under fifteen, they would definitely be sent to school and didn't need to participate.
Anna, though still a few months shy of eighteen, knew that attending school wouldn't last long at her age. Besides, she had other things to do, so she chose to draw for district assignment.
She asked Sarah for Sylvia's keepsake—the silver necklace. Sylvia had died saving Anna's father, and since Sarah would soon be in school with limited freedom to leave, Anna took over the task of finding Sylvia's sister. The necklace contained a photo of Sylvia and her sister, which would help her identify the girl.
Sarah was reluctant at first—Sylvia had entrusted this task to her specifically. But after weighing her options, she handed over the necklace and made Anna promise to let them know once she found her.
The results came in: Anna was assigned to District A, in the southwestern corner of the QZ, closest to the main gate. Lucy and Daphne were both sent to District D in the northern section. Dick and Allen, being around ten years old, would also be sent to school.
After the drawing concluded, survivors followed soldiers heading to various districts, waiting at the fence gate to depart. The children would remain behind and be transported to school together.
Before leaving, Daphne sought out Bryan and earnestly asked him to look after Dick at school.
Given how this mother and son had helped them, Bryan wasn't about to refuse such a small favor. He nodded and agreed immediately.
The children left behind watched their guardians' reluctant gazes as they passed through the fence gate and disappeared from sight.
Bryan looked at the four other children he didn't know and couldn't help but feel a pang of emotion. When they'd first set out, there had been seventeen or eighteen kids in their group. Now, including them, only eight remained.
Before long, a military truck pulled up. Following the soldiers' instructions, Bryan and the others climbed into the cargo bed.
Once they were aboard, the truck rumbled to life and drove deeper into the QZ. Unlike outside, the snow here had been shoveled to the sides of the streets. Through the truck's canvas covering, they could occasionally glimpse people walking by.
Bryan could clearly see their expressions—not the peace and joy he'd expected, but something hollow, dazed, and numb.
Along the way, while most people did seem content or even happy, a small but noticeable portion of residents showed signs of drifting toward that same emptiness.
This made him furrow his brow. He didn't understand why these people looked that way, but he knew it wasn't a good sign...
The truck bounced along, passing through two checkpoints before finally stopping at a university entrance.
Bryan climbed out and took in the sight before him: several impressive buildings—he couldn't name their architectural style, but they looked magnificent. Bare trees surrounded them on all sides, with pathways connecting the building entrances and winding deeper into campus. It was hard to appreciate now, but once winter passed and spring arrived, the scenery would be stunning.
At the university entrance stood a rectangular stone monument. Carved on its front was a shield containing a crossed torch and bugle—the school's emblem.
Behind the emblem, English letters spelled out: EMORY UNIVERSITY. Below that: ESTABLISHED 1836.
Bryan searched his meager knowledge of American universities. Apart from household names like Harvard and Cambridge... he'd never heard of this place.
Soldiers patrolled throughout the campus. As they followed the pathways inside, they discovered that most buildings were isolated by groves of trees. It was essentially a small town hidden within a forest.
Shortly after entering, a soldier brought Bryan's group to a castle-like academic building and handed them off to a Black woman waiting at the entrance. She was average-looking with a slightly plump build and short, curly hair.
The soldier exchanged a few words with her, had her sign a form, then turned and left.
Once the soldier was out of sight, the woman turned her attention to the children. Her previously neutral expression instantly became warm and friendly.
"Hello there! My name is Miranda. It's so nice to meet you all. For the next few years, we'll be living together at this school. If you ever run into any problems, you can always come to me!"
She walked over to a girl of about fourteen or fifteen at the front of the group, crouched down, and extended her hand with a gentle smile. "Can you tell me your name?"
The girl flinched when the woman suddenly approached, initially anxious and scared. But when she met Miranda's warm, inviting eyes, she inexplicably relaxed. Almost unconsciously, she reached out and lightly shook Miranda's hand, stammering, "I—I'm Joan... Nice to... nice to meet you..."
Miranda watched the girl's reaction closely. A flicker of disappointment passed through her eyes, but she masked it quickly. After asking a few more questions, she stood and moved on to the next child.
Bryan's gaze followed the woman called Miranda as she questioned each child. He noticed that while speaking to them, her eyes constantly swept over their faces and bodies—as if she were assessing something. And after finishing with each child, she would jot something down on the papers in her hand.
He tilted his head, thinking it over. He had a pretty good idea now of what she was doing. This Black woman was evaluating each child's psychological state and mental fortitude to determine their current value.
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