I caught up with the marching guard while the other one followed behind, making sure I didn’t run for it. We entered a back stairwell and headed down the steps. A cold draft swept through. My teeth shivered and my shoulders shook. At the bottom was an open door, leading to the tarmac.

Waiting for us there amongst the airplanes and runways was a green army van, engine running. The guard opened the back door and climbed in. Behind me, the soldier kicked my back with his boot, knocking me into the van.

“What the hell?”

“Shut up,” said the soldier, climbing in after me and shutting the door. He signaled the driver, “Take us to the quarantine facility.”

I got up off the van’s floor and sat down in the corner seat. “What are you guys planning to do to me? What exactly have I done?”

The guard who wasn’t a complete dickhead turned to me and lifted his gloved hands to his head. He fiddled with his gas mask and pulled it off. The man behind the mask had a boxy head with a square jaw. He had a standard army buzz cut and blue stoic eyes. He blinked and a string of numbers and code fell along the side of his right eye. No wonder this guy didn’t give a shit. He was an android.

“Passenger 1307-b,” he said. “Clay Hopewell, aged twenty-four years old, citizen of United North America. Arriving from Charles de Gaulle airport, Paris, France. Flight number: 248. You’ve been put under immediate arrest for breaking international law by the decree of—”

“Breaking the law! How so?”

“Isn’t it obvious, dumbass?” said the jerk guard, who kept his gas mask firmly on his head. “You got ZERO. You’re a ticking time bomb now bud. I’m sure those French fucks are real happy with themselves for kicking out all the foreigners.”

My arms shook, my shoulders shuddered. If what they said was true: I only had a few days to live.

“I was fine a few hours ago,” I said. “How is this even possible?”

“You’re asking the million-dollar question,” said the guard.

We drove along an empty runway towards a large airplane hangar. Surrounding the perimeter of the building was a scaffolding of barbed wire, armed guards, sentry towers, and machine gun turrets. We slowed down at a parking gate. The driver poked his head out and spoke with another masked soldier. They exchanged a few words and then the barrier lifted. We drove on towards the hangar.

The army vehicle halted beneath the shadows of the large building.

“We’re at your stop,” said the jerk guard. “C’mon—out ya get.”

He grabbed my jacket collar and dragged me out of the van. All the turrets from the different sentry towers pointed down at my section of the tarmac.