Someone hadn’t just abandoned these vehicles. Someone had sealed them shut, turning them into impregnable vaults in the middle of nowhere.
The next day, Landon returned. But this time, he didn’t bring a controller. He held a pair of heavy-duty bolt cutters. The sharp snap of metal echoed through the empty valley.
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When the rusted door groaned open, Landon aimed his flashlight into the darkness. It wasn’t full of trash. The truck was packed floor-to-ceiling with crates stamped with a date: “October 1962.”
Inside were Geiger counters, medical supplies, and emergency rations. This wasn’t a junkyard. It was a secret Doomsday convoy that had waited for the end of the world, but never received the order to move.