This Broken City Sky

Morning dawned on the desolate edge of New Jersey with an unexpected brilliance and fervor. Even if the world was at an end, mother nature had no idea. Where the sky was clear in the East, between the horizon and grey clouds, the sky was orange with light pink brimming the clouds. It would have been a beautiful sunrise, if anyone was there to see it besides Frank. On their "watch" Dylan had fallen asleep, her cheek rested awkwardly against his shoulder. But after an hour, he had to wake her up because his shoulder had fallen asleep as well. So the two stayed up until about six that morning, when the sun began to rise, and they decided to wake everyone up.

That early in the day, the air was still frigid and still. Most of the company were cold even though they'd been inside, because of the broken window, so to warm up they moved about or jumped up and down in place. Lily resorted to jumping jacks, which brough warmth to her numb fingers. Frank, and a few of the others were quick to follow that example. That way every one warmed up quicker, and felt much more ready to take on the task ahead of them. After they were all ready and alert, Lily, who had the good sense to grab one of their maps, laid it out on the hood of the van. The eight murmured to one another about the easiest way to get across the island, and what streets would take them to the Brooklyn Bridge the quickest. From the roof of the garage, New York loomed before them, dark and still, like the city they had nearly left behind.

"It's ironic that we're going to be coming out of the tunnel into Hell's Kitchen." Dylan said, as the group walked out onto the street beside the parking garage. Mikey shot Dylan a sidelong look, and pulled his scarf over his nose. No one else said anything, or reacted to her statement; they simply pushed their bandanas or scarfs over their noses, and shifted their weapons in their hands. Though silence was difficult for the eight, it had to be so if they wanted to reach their destination safely.

When they approached the tree gaping mouths of the tunnel, the eight stopped to gaze at them. Kat looked behing them, checking for any walkers, and Johnny mimicked the gesture with growing anxiety. After a few minutes of silent contemplation, Frank pulled the American Flag-patterned bandana off the lower half of his face, and looked around at his companions.

"Eenie meenie miney moe, huh?" He asked, but kept a straight face. Dylan was gazing up at the billboards above the tunnels, with the butt of her gun rested against the road. Gerard squinted his eyes at the dark cave-looking entrances, trying to remember which to take that would get them to the Lincoln Expressway on the other side.

"The middle one, right?" His voice was muffled by the bandana over his mouth, but could still be heard. He and Ray looked over at Lily and Dylan, who he hoped knew what path the take. Lily nodded, silently, and let out a sigh, billowing her soft scarf away from her mouth.

"Yeah." Dylan said, her voice low but coarse. Taking a step forward, Kat began making a path toward the pitch-black confines of the tunnel in the middle, then instantly the others followed with not so much as a sigh. Those who carried backpacks retrieved a flash light or two, but the dim circles of light did little to light up the shadowy underpass.

Because the cars were packed into the tunnel like sardines, the group had to walk on the shoulder, one or two behind the other. The whole walk induced anxiety in all, because of the dark, and what could be lurking there. More than once, Dylan swore she heard something, then when she shone her light on the spot, a rat or something like it would scurry away. Finally, she thrust her flashlight into Lily's hand, then wordlessly reached out to take Frank's gloved hand in hers. He gave her a quick glance through the dark, then twined their fingers together easily.

It only took around ten minutes to traverse the underpass, seeing as they walked briskly, and had no interruptions. But when they stepped out onto the Lincoln Expressway, and into the grey light of the morning, they spotted several figures wobbling their way. All braced themselves, holding their weapons at the ready and marching toward the undead that blocked their path. Their was little blood to be shed; the corpses had been stumbling about for so long, they hardly retained any of their former human features.

By the time the eight reached the end of the Expressway, they were breathing heavily not from activity, but from adrenaline. Frank pulled his bandana away from his face to get a fresh breath of air as Johnny and Kat crept along the edge of a building on the corner that joined the Expressway and West 34th street. Mikey was raking his crowbar on the ground, to try and dislodge bone fragments or other bits of corpse that clung to the weapon. It was sickening, but he was glad he didn't have Gerard's hammer. Such a short tool meant close, hand-to-hand combat with the walkers, making the task of killing them that much harder for Gerard.

"We're fucked." Kat mumbled, as she turned around to the others, and ran a hand over her pale hair. Everyone froze their anxious movements to stare at her with wide, frightened eyes. She sighed heavily as she slid the magazine of her pistol to reload a few bullets. Then, knocking the magazine against the gun handle, she slammed it back into it's place.

"Can you not leave us hanging like that?" Ray whispered, so as not to attract attention to them, as per usual. Johnny still kept watch on the street, watching the walkers that populated the street. It would look like a normal day without the broken windows or abandoned cars.

"There are a lot of them. A lot of them. Not just like, a hundred, a lot, either." Kat said finally, and slid back the mechanism on the top of the gun that would shift a bullet into place. A collective sigh rolled through the group. Dylan let her head fall back, and she closed her eyes momentarily. Lily immediately grew fearfull, seeing as she was the only one without a weapon. She didn't want to go where there were more walkers than the eight of them could handle, not only for her own safety, but for the others'. Gerard released his bottom lip from the tight grip his teeth had on it, and he looked toward the street they needed to travel down.

"Well we need to think of a solution fast, cause we're going to have our hands full in a second..." He muttered as he glanced over his shoulder, checking the distance of some walkers across the street. They were dragging their feet, but still approached at a significant pace. Mikey inhaled deeply, still tense from his run in with the undead back in New Jersey.

"Just run," He said briskly, shrugging his shoulders in a way that made him look frantic, "Run past em until we can't fuckin run any harder. We can't stop and kill them all, then we're just sitting ducks. We need to run, even if we're not that fast, we're still faster than they are." He breathed, and hoisted up his jeans a little. They fit a little bit more loosely than they had four months ago. Then he pulled his bandana up over his nose, and held onto the crowbar for dear life.

"Let's beat it, then." Dylan said as she too moved her bandana back up, and cocked the shot gun. She was low on rounds, so she had been using the butt as a bludgeon instead of wasting her shells. Ray flexed his fingers against the bat, as if he were stepping up to home plate at the World Series. Frank was comfortable with the axe now, and confident that he could hack his way through as many walkers as he could. Gerard felt nervous, Mikey was terrified like Lily, and Dylan was so afraid, she wasn't anymore.

Kat was the first to take off around the corner, followed by Gerard, Johnny, and Mikey. Lily gave Dylan, Ray and Frank a meaningful look before charging around the side of the building. The others followed quickly, and spared no time in catching up to the rest of their group. They worked their legs as hard as their muscles would let them, not paying attention to the horde of undead that littered the street. More than once someone would clip their shoulder on an outstretched hand or shoulder of a walker and stumble a few feet, falling behind. But they'd catch up, and rejoin the group.

Before long though, they'd run themselves tired, and only covered about six blocks. The overall pace slowed to a dragging run, then a jog when the walkers began to thin out. All were breathing hard, and more than tired already. Frank, Gerard and Kat felt it even more so due to the amount they smoked. But they kept pace with the others as best they could.

"We need to find somewhere to hide." Frank heaved, as he limped along beside Mikey and Gerard, who was squinting his eyes shut as they walked. As Frank spoke, Dylan stepped up next to Gerard, and swung the end of her gun into the face of a rather fresh looking woman. Fresher than the rest, anyway. Gerard opened his eyes in time to watch her smash the butt hard against the woman's nose, breaking the bones and skin. Dylan shook the blood off her hand, and looked at Gerard.

"Catch your breath," She mumbled from behind her bandana, giving Gerard a sharp look, "Then we have to ru-FRANK." She hollered at Frank to alert him to a man stumbling along next to him, boney, worn hands outstretched. With a swift swing, Frank drove the blade of his axe into the man's skull, and pulled it out easily.

"Thanks." He breathed, but Dylan didn't have time to reply because a pair of hands pulled at the hood of her jacket.

The group went on like this at a slow pace, and constant dispatching the undead that gathered around them. Though it was passable, the street was crowded, and they needed to get off of it fast, lest they join the ranks of corpses that followed them like hungry dogs. Eventually, when everyone had composed themselves, they set out at a break-neck run, to get as far away from the crowd that would slow begin to form behind them. This time they made it for seven blocks, which, once traversed, wore on them even more.

Yet they carried on, shooting, bludgeoning, chopping, and running their way through flesh or bone, until FDR Drive was in sight, and they all felt relief. Then number of walkers also began to decrease for the time being as well, which in of itself was a good sign. For the last few blocks remaining between them and the FDR, they ran again, and tried to push themselves harder than they had the past few times. Dylan felt like she had just run across the finish line of a marathon, and finished first. Relief flooded her as she gazed up the long road that curved gently, like the body of a giant snake, and saw the Manhattan Bridge just barely above the glimmering water.

"I can't fuckin...run....anymore...I ca-can't...." Gerard stammered, as he limped up next to Dylan, holding his hands over his head so he could catch his breath, "Never run that....Much.....Ever...." He sighed, and closed his eyes as they walked along the shoulder.

"We can take a break when we're halfway there. There doesn't.." Dylan swallowed, her mouth dry and sticky, "Seem to be a lot of.....Walkers out here." She inhaled deeply, and rested the barrels of her gun against her shoulder. Kat jogged up behind Dylan and Gerard, with Johnny, Mikey, and Lily in tow. Frank lagged a little. When Dylan glanced over her shoulder and saw this, she stopped and told the others to move on, then she waited for Frank. He asked her to hold his axe for a little while, which she did, and balanced that on her other shoulder as they walked.

For nearly two and a half hours, they dragged along the side of the Drive, every once in a while finding an undead straggler in their midst. Kat dispatched of those with a bullet to it's head, before anyone could get a chance to do otherwise. At the half-way point, as Dylan had said, they stopped, and sat down against the medians and in an open car. It was a much needed pit stop, and after it, they felt the next half of their journey would be much easier.

"Fuckers better have beds...And water..." Dylan sighed as she let her head hang back as she walked along. Even she was exhausted now. Frank yawned, but didn't reply; he was hardly picking up his feet as he walked. He had taken back his axe at the half way point, and now let it rest on the back of his neck, his hands resting on either side of the handle.

"Don't count on it," Kat arched her eyebrows, and looked across the river, to where the Brooklyn Naval Yard should be, "We have no idea what we're walking into here," She mumured, and turned her gaze the other way, to the Manhattan Bridge, to which they were only metres away. Johnny glanced up at her, but when she returned the look, he was looking at his shoes, "But I could be wrong, these people could have a whole system set up, a whole new city, what do I know?" She shrugged lightly, and smiled a little. Gerard, who followed behind just a bit, laughed silently.

"We just better be going somewhere warm..." Lily peeped, and crossed her arms over her chest a little tighter. They had been overheated from the running, but as their sweat cooled, they found themselves even colder than before. Dylan nodded her agreement, and looked over at Frank who hadn't said a word. She took a few quick steps over to him, where he dragged along next to Ray, and bumped his leg with her hand. He looked over at her, with surprise.

"You alright?" She kept her voice down very low, so only Frank and maybe Ray could hear. Frank nodded, and shifted the axe over onto one shoulder to free his hand so he could rub his face. Dylan watched him carefully.

"Mhm." He mumbled, and dropped his hand to his side. In a surprising move, Dylan felt him grab her hand in his, weaving their fingers together again. When she looked at him with her widened eyes, he simply ignored it, and trudged on. Dylan glanced back at Lily, who raised her eyebrows curiously.

"Thank god..." Ray muttered, causing both Dylan and Frank to look up. Kat, Johnny, and Gerard had stopped, bringing the others to a halt as well. They stood staring out at the expanse of cement and cables that stretched out in front of them with relief, apprehension, and most of all, fear.