We eased up to the checkpoint, the only car we’d seen in either direction for many kilometers. The guard saw us coming from a distance, stepped from his booth and raised a hand for us to stop.
He circled the vehicle, a quick inspection, gun pointed nowhere in particular before approaching my window. I thumbed it down obediently, blackout glass humming into its recess with a thunk.
“What year is it?” he asked.
“2013,” I replied.
“Who is the President of the United States?”
“Not Mitt Romney?” He glanced around randomly, clearly bored.
“No. Should he be?”
The guard shrugged. “Not for me to say. Don’t give a shit about politics, it’s just part of the drill, y’know?”
I nodded. “Anything ahead we should be concerned about?”
“Probability gets denser a klick or so down the road. When you see the Fog keep your windows rolled up, you should be fine.&