Reactor Road. That's what they called it now—the long caravan of the Ice Road Truckers traveling from nuclear reactor camp to nuclear reactor camp. Their mission was vital: delivering needed supplies and retrieving the area's specialties and orders for the next reactor. The military camps and bases had been abandoned, with everyone, including the military, migrating to the nuclear reactors if they could. Most preppers were content to stay put, secure in their well-stocked bunkers. But the survivors, the non-preppers, were either dead or clustered around the reactors, the last bastions of warmth and life in the frozen wasteland.
The job of the Ice Road Truckers was dangerous, even more so now that the ice spirits had appeared. These humanoid ice spirits, attractive and eerily persuasive, knocked on doors at night, luring the lonely truckers with their cooing voices. Only one trucker had been frozen before the rest learned to keep their doors locked tight at night.
Ethan listened to the radio, the voices of the truckers crackling through the static. They spoke of their journeys, the challenges they faced, and the camaraderie that kept them going. The route was treacherous, but they were determined to keep the supply lines open.
"Reactor Road is our lifeline," one trucker said. "We can't afford to lose it."
Ethan nodded, understanding the gravity of their mission. The reactors were the heart of their survival, providing power, warmth, and now, food. The Plant Factory's first harvest had been a success, but there was still so much more to do.
He thought about the spirits, their haunting presence a constant threat. He had seen one just the night before, knocking on his door, its voice quivering as it asked if anyone was inside. He had ignored it, knowing the danger it posed. But the truckers, out on the road, were more vulnerable.
Ethan picked up the radio, his voice steady as he spoke. "This is Ethan Parker. I want to remind everyone on Reactor Road to stay vigilant. Keep your doors locked at night and avoid dark areas. The spirits are out there, and they're dangerous."
There was a chorus of acknowledgments, the truckers grateful for the reminder. They knew the risks, but they also knew the importance of their mission.
As the night wore on, Ethan continued to listen to the radio, the voices of the truckers a comforting presence. They were out there, braving the frozen wasteland, keeping the lifeline open. And he was here, doing his part to support them.
"Stay strong," he whispered to himself, a mantra that had carried him through the darkest times. "We'll get through this."
With a deep breath, he settled in for the night.