Chapter 194: Chapter 194 - To The Brooklyn Bridge
They moved carefully, keeping close to cover, stepping around loose debris and broken glass instead of through it.
"Fuck," Marybeth breathed beside her as they stopped at the corner.
Iyisha leaned just enough to look.
The intersection ahead was packed.
Walkers filled the crossing, spread across the road, some standing still, others shifting in slow, uneven movements. In the middle of them, a twitcher stood out.
It stayed low, its body jerking in small, irregular twitches, like it couldn’t stay still even when it wasn’t moving forward. Its head snapped in short, sharp motions, reacting to every small sound.
Fuck was an understatement.
Malcolm, already at the front, raised two fingers, then pointed toward another corner across the street.
Aljun nodded.
They crouched and moved fast, crossing the short gap and dropping behind a line of abandoned cars.
The vehicles were piled up along the road, some angled into each other, others left where they stopped. Doors hung open. One car had its front crushed in, another pushed halfway onto the sidewalk. It didn’t look like time had passed here. It looked like everything just stopped and never moved again.
Other places had been cleared. They have been lived in.
This one hadn’t.
It stayed the same.
Malcolm picked up a small stone and weighed it once before throwing it hard down the opposite side of the street.
The sound carried.
Heads turned.
Walkers shifted toward it, slow at first, then more of them following the movement.
The twitcher snapped toward the sound.
Then it sprinted.
Fast. Direct. No hesitation.
It cut through the group and slammed into the side of a car with a sharp metal hit.
Malcolm didn’t wait.
He moved.
The others followed.
They slipped out from behind the cars and crossed while the infected shifted away from them, keeping low, staying tight to whatever cover they could find.
On the other side, Iyisha paused just long enough to look back.
The city didn’t look the same anymore.
Trees had pushed through cracks in the road. Grass had spread across what used to be pavement, growing unchecked, creeping around tires and broken concrete. The space felt wider but more uneven, like it had been left alone too long.
Nothing had been maintained.
Nothing had been controlled.
It had just kept growing.
They turned into another road, tighter than the last, buildings closing in just enough to break the open lines. Iyisha felt it immediately. Less exposure. Closer.
Closer to the bridge.
Aljun leaned in, voice low. "We should go further in," he said. "With this distance, they can scope us out."
Iyisha kept her eyes forward. "We’re closer if we stay near the shore."
"Too open," he replied, glancing ahead. "Less cover the closer we get, and the shoreline’s packed."
Lance let out a breath. "Going further means more time."
"And this gets us killed faster," Aljun said.
Iyisha slowed.
Just a fraction.
Something ahead didn’t sit right.
Her eyes fixed on a body lying in the middle of the road.
It wasn’t like the others.
It lay flat on its back, arms close to its sides, legs straight, like it had been placed there. The clothes were still intact. No tearing. No signs of struggle. Just a small dark mark on the chest, tight and centered, with nothing else around it.
Marybeth stepped closer behind her. "What is it?" she asked.
Iyisha didn’t answer.
She kept looking.
Then—
Malcolm’s hand locked onto her shoulder and yanked her back.
A shot cracked through the air.
Concrete burst where she had been standing. Dust kicked up, scattering across the road.
Iyisha stumbled into him, her breath catching hard in her chest.
No one moved for a second.
Not even the infected.
The sound disappeared into the river like it had never happened.
Then Malcolm pushed her down behind a car. "Down."
The others dropped fast, finding what little cover they could.
Silence followed.
No second shot.
"Shit." Aljun whispered, "They saw us."
Malcolm stayed still, eyes moving across the open space, not at the infected but at the angles, the lines they could be seen from.
Iyisha looked back at the spot where the bullet hit, then at the body in the road.
Same position.
Same stillness.
Placed.
"They’re watching the open," Iyisha said.
Malcolm gave a small nod.
Aljun didn’t wait. "Let’s go deeper."
This time Iyisha didn’t argue. She looked toward the bridge one last time. Still far, but closer than before. Then she turned away.
"Let’s go," Malcolm muttered.
They pulled back, keeping tight to the walls, cutting into narrower streets where the buildings blocked sightlines and broke the long angles.
Malcolm picked up another stone and threw it down a side lane, the sound pulling a few of the undead away from their path.
"Malcolm," Iyisha muttered before they moved again.
He shifted his position without looking back, adjusting the angle, then nodded once.
They kept moving.
Lance’s breathing grew heavier behind them, uneven, starting to drag. Iyisha glanced back and saw it in the way he moved, shoulders tighter, steps slower.
She slowed.
The others followed.
They stopped.
Lance bent slightly, catching his breath. "I’m sorry," he muttered.
Iyisha shook her head. "Don’t."
No one said anything else.
They held position for a moment, just enough for him to steady himself, while Malcolm and Aljun kept watch on opposite sides, eyes scanning the street and the corners.
Iyisha pulled out a bottle and handed it to him. Lance took a quick sip, then gave it back.
Marybeth glanced between the streets ahead. "Aren’t we in more danger going deeper?" she muttered. "How thick are the hordes inside?"
Aljun shook his head slightly. "Same as this," he said. "Maybe worse in spots, but the shore’s heavier. The bombing cleared some of the center. Not safe. Just... less crowded."
Malcolm didn’t look away from the street ahead. "We’re going in," he said, then glanced at Iyisha. "You lead."
She blinked, caught off guard for a second by how direct it was. His gaze didn’t shift.
Iyisha swallowed.
She knew these streets. Every turn. Every connection.
But not like this.
Not anymore.
Still—
Out of all of them, she knew it best.
She gave a small nod.
Her eyes moved to Marybeth, then briefly to Lance. A quick look. Enough.
Marybeth rolled her eyes but nodded back, already shifting closer to Lance’s side.
Iyisha stepped up beside Malcolm.
"Take the lead," she said to Malcolm. "I’ll guide you."
He nodded.
They moved again once Lance steadied, slower this time, keeping tighter to the walls as the streets narrowed.
Iyisha stepped closer to Malcolm, her voice low enough not to carry. "How far do we need to go so they can’t see us?"
Malcolm didn’t answer right away. His eyes stayed on the street ahead, checking the angles, the gaps between buildings, the open lines that could still expose them.
"Far enough that the bridge isn’t in view," he said finally. "Or we break every line from it."
Iyisha glanced up briefly, following the direction of the skyline, then brought her eyes back down to the street.
"They won’t cover everything," Malcolm added. "They’ll hold the obvious paths. Open roads. Shoreline. Anything that leads straight in."
"So we need to disappear?" she asked.
Malcolm gave a small nod. "Make the path hard to track. Change direction. Don’t give them a pattern."
Iyisha pressed her lips together, her eyes moving ahead as she started mapping the streets in her head, turning what she remembered into something that would actually work now.
