Chapter 193: Chapter 193 - Hometown
Iyisha pushed herself up from the ground. Her hair was damp, sticking to her cheek and neck, and she dragged her hand across her face to push it back.
She lifted her head.
The road stretched ahead, sloping down toward the river. The asphalt was broken in long cracks, some sections raised, others sunken. Water sat in the low parts, dark and still, reflecting nothing.
To the left, the buildings opened into wide industrial space. Warehouses with metal siding torn open. Loading docks half-collapsed. Long, empty stretches with no cover between them.
To the right, the trees started suddenly. Thick trunks packed close together, branches hanging low. The ground dipped slightly beneath them, uneven and soft, covered in damp leaves.
The air felt heavier there.
The sound of the river filled everything. Constant. Loud enough to cover smaller noise, but not enough to feel safe.
She turned slowly, taking it in.
Even with the damage.
Even with the shadows.
She knew it.
Her shoulders tightened just a little.
"We’re a long way down," she muttered.
Lance pushed himself up beside her, still catching his breath, his hand braced briefly on his knee before he straightened. "You know this place?" he asked.
She nodded without looking at him, her eyes still moving across the road, the buildings, the tree line.
"Bush Terminal Park," she said quietly. "I used to run here."
For a second, her gaze lingered toward the trees, toward a path that should have been there, something familiar trying to surface, but the layout didn’t match anymore.
Aljun leaned in slightly, his voice low and tight. "Keep your voice down. We need to find a place to wait for light."
Malcolm didn’t answer. His body shifted instead, gun coming up as he turned sharply to the left, reacting to a small sound that didn’t carry far under the weight of the river.
Iyisha turned with him, her flashlight cutting through the dark.
The beam landed on a face three feet away.
Skin pulled tight, eyes dull, mouth slightly open.
Her breath caught mid-inhale, her body locking for half a second.
Malcolm moved.
The machete came up in a short, controlled arc and connected cleanly at the neck. The body dropped where it stood without time to react.
"Fuck," Lance muttered, one hand pressing against his chest as he exhaled sharply. "That one nearly got you."
Iyisha swallowed, her pulse still hitting hard, and forced her breathing to steady.
"The river’s too loud," she said under her breath.
The road ahead was too open, too exposed, but other spots were harder to find, especially with how dark it was and how much the river swallowed sound.
"We’ll stay here for the sun," Malcolm muttered.
They all nodded.
They didn’t know the area well enough, not even Aljun, who gave a small nod of agreement.
They cleared the immediate perimeter, moving carefully, taking down four more undead that had drifted too close before they settled.
Lance dropped down first, resting his back against a low concrete edge. Iyisha stayed on her feet for a moment longer before lowering herself, her body still tense.
Malcolm and Aljun remained standing, watching opposite directions.
"Are you from here?" Marybeth asked quietly.
Iyisha adjusted her heavy, damp tank top and nodded. "I’m from Bay Ridge," she muttered.
Malcolm glanced at her.
Their eyes met briefly.
They hadn’t really talked about it.
"Then that’s really close," Aljun said.
She gave a small nod.
"Then you know this neighborhood," Marybeth added, a hint of relief in her voice.
Iyisha exhaled slowly. "I knew it before they obliterated it," she said.
Aljun shifted slightly. "This side hasn’t really been affected as much. Not like near the Brooklyn Bridge."
She looked at him, then back at the road.
"You might know it better than me now," she said quietly.
Marybeth glanced around, then toward Aljun. "You ever see hunters here?"
Aljun frowned. "A what?"
Iyisha’s eyes moved across the tree line again, slower now, more alert. "A mutated one," she said. "Gray. Moves on four. It hunts."
Aljun let out a short breath. "A fucking what? No. You making that up?"
Marybeth and Iyisha looked at each other.
"Is there no hunter on this side?" Marybeth asked.
Aljun shook his head once. "If you’re talking about twitchers, there are tons of them."
"No," Iyisha said, her gaze fixed on the shadows between the trees. "Not twitchers. These... move like animals. Low. Fast. Grayish white."
Aljun followed her line of sight, then looked back at her. "That sounds bad," he admitted, letting out a dry chuckle. "But I haven’t heard of anything like that here. Well, shit. You’re telling me there are more types out there?"
"We’ve seen it," Marybeth said.
Aljun rubbed the back of his neck, still scanning the area. "If there are more than two, then America’s cooked," he muttered under his breath.
Iyisha blinked slowly, her thoughts catching up with the silence around them. With how many infected filled Brooklyn, how dense it should have been, it didn’t make sense that none had shown up here.
"None here then?" she asked.
Aljun shifted his weight and glanced toward the direction of the water beyond them. "If something like that exists, it’s probably on Long Island."
Long Island.
Iyisha’s head turned slightly, her eyes following that direction. During the early infection, the government had pulled the infected there.
She heard it in the safe zones. Same thing, repeated until it sounded real.
They used sound to draw them in. Kept it going so the infected moved in one direction, all of it pushing toward the island.
Then they sealed it. Shipping containers stacked fast, reinforced just enough to hold.
Containment.
That was the word they used. Contain it, study it, find a cure.
It made sense back then.
Then everything got worse, and Long Island was forgotten.
They stayed where they were and waited, keeping low and quiet as time stretched under the constant noise of the river.
Malcolm and Aljun standing watch while the others rested in place.
Iyisha didn’t sleep, her eyes moving across the same lines again and again, trying to match what she remembered with what was left, holding onto the layout even as it kept slipping.
Light came slowly, gray at first, then enough to see, and Iyisha pushed herself to stand, her gaze lifting and moving across the area until it stopped.
The place she knew was gone.
The industrial buildings that used to hide the park were broken open, metal peeled back, structures leaning at angles that didn’t look stable. Some had collapsed inward. Others stood hollow and exposed.
It wasn’t just damage. It looked like neglect finished by force, leaving behind shells that barely resembled what they had been.
Damage she thought she’d only see from war.
The park didn’t feel hidden anymore. It felt open.
Wrong.
Her chest tightened, the feeling settling in without needing words.
Malcolm stepped closer and touched her arm. "You okay?" he asked.
She let out a breath and forced a small smile that didn’t hold. "Yeah. Just—" She shook her head.
He watched her for a second, then nodded. "Let’s go."
She nodded back, then stepped forward first.
