The Survivor Chronicles: The Risen (6 page)

Riley waved to Nancy as she stepped off the
steps and walked toward them. Carl walked over to join them beside
the car. "Do you have any weapons?" Al asked Nancy.

Nancy glanced nervously over them before
looking at Rochelle. "A knife," she admitted.

Al nodded. "Don't get any ideas about using
it on one of us."

"I won't," she promised.

"I'm going to ride in the back, Riley," Al
told her.

She started to protest and then closed her
mouth. She really didn't want to be the one that had to shoot Nancy
if she did try to attack one of them. Riley didn't think Nancy
would do it, but she wasn't going to take any chances either. Riley
discreetly kept her gun sitting in her lap when she settled into
the passenger seat.

"What's the cat's name?" Nancy asked as she
sat beside the dozing feline.

"I don't know," Riley answered. "We found
her in a farm house a little while ago, but we haven't named her
yet."

"Hmm." Nancy lifted the cat from the
backseat and settled it in her lap. The loud purring the cat
emanated filled the car as Xander started it. Nancy actually began
to smile while she scratched the cat's ears. "What about Spooky? I
had a cat named Spooky once who looked just like this."

Xander released a harsh bark of laughter. "I
think that suits. She spooked the crap out of us the first time we
encountered her."

"I like it," Riley agreed. She couldn't help
but smile as she turned to look at the mountains. Bobby may be
gone, but maybe they had just saved someone else's life.

Carl,

Carl climbed out of the truck and stretched
his back as he surveyed the bridge before them. Al had prepared
them for the length of it, but even still he couldn't shake the
crushing sense of doom creeping down his spine. The bridge had an
end, of that much he was certain, but he couldn't see it. He didn't
know if that was from the angle of the bridge or if it was simply
too far away to see the end.

His gaze drifted down to the immense river
below the bridge, the mighty Hudson. He didn't know much about this
area of New York. He didn't know much about New York at all, other
than he hated their sports teams and they had good bagels, but he
recalled this river from his history classes over the years, and
the plane that had recently landed on it near the city.

It looked relatively calm right now but the
river was swollen with water. Maybe the torrential downpours they
had experienced over the past few weeks had flooded the river, or
the quakes had caused a new river or lake to flow into this one.
Either way, the water buried the roots of the trees along the
banks. A swing set in one of the backyards lining the river was
halfway under water and the back stairs of another porch were
swamped.

He eyed the multiple, massive concrete posts
holding the bridge up with trepidation. All the posts were still
standing but there was no way to know what kind of damage they'd
sustained from the quakes and flooding. His gaze lifted to the flat
bridge before him.
Hamilton Fish
Newburgh-Beacon Bridge
was written on a sign at the foot
of the bridge. There were lights hanging over the road from posts,
but none of them were on, but then he hadn't expected them to be
either.

A sign announcing that the right lane was
closed was also nearby. His eyes narrowed on the right lane as
another chill slid down his back.
Why had it
been closed down even before everything had fallen
apart
? He wondered as he studied the orange barrels,
forgotten construction equipment in the right lane, and the roadway
that was full of potholes and cracks.

He glanced at the other bridge running
parallel, and apparently identical, to the one they were parked in
front of. Tollbooths were set up on the other side but Al had said
there were no tolls at the other end of this bridge. They could
cross over on the other bridge, but looking between the two of
them, Carl couldn't see any structural difference in them.

"How long is this thing?" Peter
demanded.

"At least a mile," Al answered tiredly.

Donald released a low whistle; he shook his
head and moved closer to the bridge. John stepped forward; he
stopped at the very edge of where the bridge started. "We've
already had one bad experience with a bridge," John said. "Do we
really want to try crossing this one too?"

"I'd rather have a colonoscopy without the
drugs than do this, but I don't think we have any other choice,"
Carl answered honestly.

John gave him a double look before releasing
a low chuckle. "Well it's a good thing we don't actually have that
option."

"Yeah," Carl muttered before walking over to
stand beside Al. "Is there any way around this?"

Al shook his head and lifted the map. "This
ended in Connecticut; we're running on my memory alone until we
find a New York state map. I'm sure there are other bridges, but I
don't know how close they are or even
where
they are."

"Or if they're still standing," Carl
said.

"Or that," Al agreed.

"You've been across this before; does it
look like it's been damaged to you?"

"It's been years since I've crossed it but
it looks almost exactly the same as I remember it. I'm pretty sure
the right lane was closed down the last time I went over then
too."

Carl didn't know if that was a comforting
fact or not, but it definitely wasn't one he wanted to linger on.
"Great," John said. "That sounds promising."

"I think they use it as a breakdown lane for
the most part," Al explained.

Maybe
that
was supposed to be of some comfort, but Carl found none in it. "So
how are we going to do this?" John asked. "Are we going to walk
across it again first? Go one vehicle at a time or all of them at
once? Maybe one of the vehicles could go over the other bridge at
least then, if one collapses, some of us will still survive."

"That's looking on the bright side," Carl
said.

"Someone has too."

Carl released a small snort of laughter as
he rubbed at the bridge of his nose and surveyed the two bridges.
"They really don't look like they're in bad condition. The water
level is high but it wasn't forceful enough to knock the trees
over."

"This is an extremely bad idea," Peter
muttered.

Carl chose to ignore him as his attention
turned back to the water below them. "What would you have us do?"
John asked.

Peter's jaw clenched as he folded his arms
over his chest. A muscle twitched in the teacher's cheek. Carl
waited for Peter to say something more but as the seconds slid into
minutes, he realized that wasn't going to happen. Unwilling to even
acknowledge the man, Carl turned back to the bridge.

"I don't think it matters about splitting up
the vehicles. That's a long walk across and back; it will take too
much time for us to do it. I think we'd be exposed here for too
much time if something or someone was to show up," Carl said.

"I don't like that idea either," Xander
said. "And I highly doubt just our weight on this thing is going to
make much of an impact. Not when it still has that crane, barrels,
and dump truck sitting on it."

"What about doing separate bridges?" Mary
Ellen asked.

"I doubt that would make a difference
either," Donald said. "It's not like we're all driving Mac
trucks."

Carl rubbed at the scruff lining his jaw and
pulled his hat off. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair as he
studied the cap. The red B for the Red Sox was officially black now
from the rain and dirt, the blue of the cap had faded to a light
gray color, and the material on the bill had been worn down to the
cardboard in some areas. It had definitely seen better days, but
then so had he, and it was still his lucky cap. He placed it back
on his head and settled it over his eyes.

He wasn't exactly thrilled about the idea of
doing this, but he didn't see any other way around it. They could
spend hours driving out of their way to try and find another route
across the river. Hours in which they could get stuck somewhere
else, or attacked. Hours that would be off of the highway and in
areas that they had absolutely no knowledge of.

The idea of driving across the bridge was
enough to give him a nic-fit. He fished into his pocket for his
cigarettes and pulled them out. The fresh wash of nicotine didn't
have the desired effect he'd been looking for as his heart
continued to pound and a sweat, based solely on fear, began to coat
his body.

Riley walked over to stand near them. Her
vivid blue eyes were troubled as she stared between him, Al, and
Xander. She tucked a strand of black hair blowing across her face,
behind her ear. The freckles on her nose and cheeks stood out as
some of the color had faded from her skin.

"I'll drive across first," she offered. "To
see if it will support the car. I'm ok with going and coming
back."

"Riley…" Xander started.

"It makes sense for someone to do it and I'm
willing to go," she interrupted.

"I don't think having
more
vehicles pass back and forth over it is going
to do any good," Peter grumbled.

Riley's eyes flickered toward him but she
didn't acknowledge his words before she focused on Carl again.
"I'll go."

"I know you will, but I don't think that's
necessary and I don't think it's going to make much of a
difference," Carl replied. She didn't look convinced but she didn't
say anything further as she turned to look at the bridges.

"There's a chance we can find a place around
here to hunker down for awhile," Al said. "The towns and cities
around here are far more populated than the area we're heading for,
but we can backtrack, or try and find some less populated
places."

"Shit," Carl muttered as his mind spun. He
knew what Al and Donald had said in the truck, but he really wasn't
a leader. He didn't want to make these decisions and he definitely
did
not
want to be responsible for
other people's lives. It wasn't who he was, but even as he thought
it, he could feel the weight of the stares from the others focusing
upon him.

"Driving around trying to find something
like you suggest could be just as bad as trying to find another
bridge. This area wasn't affected anywhere near as badly as the
coastline states. I think if the trees have held up than there is a
good chance that these bracings have too," he said. "Plus you have
a lot of knowledge of the area we're going to Al, that might be the
best thing we have going for us right now."

"That I do," Al confirmed.

"That's good enough for me," Xander
said.

"We might as well get this over with then,"
Carl said.

"Hope you can all swim," Peter muttered.

Carl's teeth clenched on the filter of his
cigarette, he pulled it from his mouth as he turned to face Peter
but before he could speak, John did. "Like a fish. I don't think
swimming is our main concern though. I'm pretty sure the fall, and
the debris crashing down on top of us, will do the job first."

Peter turned his glare on John but John
simply smiled at the man before turning on his heel. John whistled
as he made his way back to the truck with a spring in his step.
Carl couldn't help but grin at Peter. "I would have to say he's
right," Carl said and crushed his cigarette beneath his boot.

He walked over to the truck and opened the
driver's side door. Rochelle and John were already inside. "You
sure about this?" Rochelle asked.

"No," he admitted as he slid in next to her.
"But I do believe we'll finally have a safer place to stay if we
make it to Al's cabin."

"I like the sound of that," she said. "But I
do
not
like having to cross this
bridge."

"No one does." He started the truck and
edged it toward the bridge. The urge to light another cigarette hit
him but with Rochelle next to him, he couldn't. His knuckles were
white as he gripped the wheel forcefully and hunched over it. The
tension in his shoulders and neck made his muscles ache before the
front wheels even hit the beginning of the bridge.

He believed he heard a groaning but he hoped
it was just his imagination running wild. No matter how much he
tried to get his imagination under control, all he could picture
was the middle of the bridge buckling beneath them and the heavy
metal toppling onto them as they plunged into the overflowing water
below. He hoped John was right and the crashing bridge killed them
before being swamped by the water. Drowning was not the way he
would choose to go.

He shifted in his seat, the discomfort in
his jaw made him realize his teeth were clenched. He forced himself
to relax his jaw but he couldn't get his hands to ease on the
steering wheel as the truck crept further across the bridge. He
could feel the bridge swaying beneath them from the water rushing
around the poles. The water became an actual evil entity in his
mind as it pulled at the posts and tried to eat away at the river
bottom that the beams had been planted in. The further they went
the more convinced he became that he was going to have a heart
attack before they made it to the other side.

Driving the car in front of them, Riley
stayed directly in the middle of the bridge, a path that Carl
followed closely. For some reason he felt safest away from the
sides, as if being in the middle would somehow save them all from
death if the bridge completely gave out.

They were more than halfway across the
bridge when metal rafters began to arch above them to form an open
roof. Carl craned his stiff neck to look up at the metal twisting
above them. If the bridge collapsed, it would be now with all of
that metal over them, he was certain of it. But they continued
onward with the asphalt solidly beneath their feet.