with the rest of the world and was in a better place. He was with my mother, brother and family.
I would miss him more than anything, but I vowed as I spent my last moments with him that he would be my example. I would strive for the goodness he embodied. And like he did when he was alive, he would lead us in our journey to Utopia.
His strength, presence, and force would guide us.
8.
The Search
When I discovered the confirmation in one of those things, it wasn’t the first time I had opened one up.
And it wasn’t the first time my fingers had dug into their brains.
Shortly after my father’s passing, I knew something was amiss with the soldiers. It wasn’t my tracking. It couldn’t have been that far off. The tracker would show four when ten soldiers were approaching. One time it showed two and over twenty of them showed up.
Something about the drone-like zombie type soldiers was interfering with the electronics of my tracker. They were either wearing something magnetic or carrying something.
The only way to be sure was to find out.
We caught one, shot out his kneecaps and tied him up. He wouldn’t register at all, even holding the tracker right next to him.
Bentley and I undressed him. Nothing.
It had to be inside.
A pace maker maybe?
An autopsy revealed nothing. It wasn't like we knew what we were looking for, but we couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary.
That was when my history as a keen Planet of the Apes fan set in. I saw it. The small circle scar located above the left temple. Maybe they were just lobotomized. But in any event something about them was clashing with our first line of protection.
We took the skull off incorrectly and couldn’t find anything. I wasn’t convinced it wasn’t the brain.
About the third time, we drilled a hole in the back of the head and just dug in with our fingers, feeling around.
We found it.
The tiniest microchip you could imagine. I wished I had a computer to break it down. But having that chip was worth more than anything. I was able to use that one to reprogram my tracking device.
It worked.
Black dots were soldiers without the chips. Red dots were the ones with the chip.
It was the tracker that gave us safe passage through Las Vegas along with refuge and rest with survivors at a hotel.
We had saved them. They were grateful.
It was there we met two men who gave us the biggest lead yet about Utopia.
Montana.
Although no one was even sure what state was which anymore, they were almost positive it was Montana. Eastern Montana, near the Dakotas. They came from that direction.
Mountains surrounded it. It was buried.
They didn’t say much about being in there; they never made it too far in, getting kicked out during the processing phase.
Every survivor who was there claimed stupidity. They screwed up.
Trust me, Bentley and I were learning from their mistakes.
Why were they kicked out?
Fighting. Being obstinate. Negative things.
Bentley and I would be positive and look good too when we found it. My Utopia Box stopped being a joke. So much so, Bentley made one for himself.
We traveled for months, seven more months to be exact. Buster, our horse was shot somewhere around Wyoming. But we made it into Montana.
I felt it. I really felt we were close.
We had raided a military base and picked up some good maps. East Montana. Mountains. I searched for the area that could hide a community and there was only one county there that fit the bill.
Garfield.
Granted, it wouldn’t be the first time we followed a wrong lead, but I felt it. Prior to Vegas, we had backtracked into Utah. But that was a bust.
Inside of Garfield county we stopped at a small town named Miles City. In fact, it was one of a very few small towns located near the mountain range.
We aimed for that range.
The plan was to rest up in Miles City for a couple of days, then head for those mountains. We intended to climb as high as we could and look. Surely if Utopia was nestled in
I would miss him more than anything, but I vowed as I spent my last moments with him that he would be my example. I would strive for the goodness he embodied. And like he did when he was alive, he would lead us in our journey to Utopia.
His strength, presence, and force would guide us.
8.
The Search
When I discovered the confirmation in one of those things, it wasn’t the first time I had opened one up.
And it wasn’t the first time my fingers had dug into their brains.
Shortly after my father’s passing, I knew something was amiss with the soldiers. It wasn’t my tracking. It couldn’t have been that far off. The tracker would show four when ten soldiers were approaching. One time it showed two and over twenty of them showed up.
Something about the drone-like zombie type soldiers was interfering with the electronics of my tracker. They were either wearing something magnetic or carrying something.
The only way to be sure was to find out.
We caught one, shot out his kneecaps and tied him up. He wouldn’t register at all, even holding the tracker right next to him.
Bentley and I undressed him. Nothing.
It had to be inside.
A pace maker maybe?
An autopsy revealed nothing. It wasn't like we knew what we were looking for, but we couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary.
That was when my history as a keen Planet of the Apes fan set in. I saw it. The small circle scar located above the left temple. Maybe they were just lobotomized. But in any event something about them was clashing with our first line of protection.
We took the skull off incorrectly and couldn’t find anything. I wasn’t convinced it wasn’t the brain.
About the third time, we drilled a hole in the back of the head and just dug in with our fingers, feeling around.
We found it.
The tiniest microchip you could imagine. I wished I had a computer to break it down. But having that chip was worth more than anything. I was able to use that one to reprogram my tracking device.
It worked.
Black dots were soldiers without the chips. Red dots were the ones with the chip.
It was the tracker that gave us safe passage through Las Vegas along with refuge and rest with survivors at a hotel.
We had saved them. They were grateful.
It was there we met two men who gave us the biggest lead yet about Utopia.
Montana.
Although no one was even sure what state was which anymore, they were almost positive it was Montana. Eastern Montana, near the Dakotas. They came from that direction.
Mountains surrounded it. It was buried.
They didn’t say much about being in there; they never made it too far in, getting kicked out during the processing phase.
Every survivor who was there claimed stupidity. They screwed up.
Trust me, Bentley and I were learning from their mistakes.
Why were they kicked out?
Fighting. Being obstinate. Negative things.
Bentley and I would be positive and look good too when we found it. My Utopia Box stopped being a joke. So much so, Bentley made one for himself.
We traveled for months, seven more months to be exact. Buster, our horse was shot somewhere around Wyoming. But we made it into Montana.
I felt it. I really felt we were close.
We had raided a military base and picked up some good maps. East Montana. Mountains. I searched for the area that could hide a community and there was only one county there that fit the bill.
Garfield.
Granted, it wouldn’t be the first time we followed a wrong lead, but I felt it. Prior to Vegas, we had backtracked into Utah. But that was a bust.
Inside of Garfield county we stopped at a small town named Miles City. In fact, it was one of a very few small towns located near the mountain range.
We aimed for that range.
The plan was to rest up in Miles City for a couple of days, then head for those mountains. We intended to climb as high as we could and look. Surely if Utopia was nestled in
Similar Books
