This Broken City Sky

The bridge spanning from Manhattan to Brooklyn, spare one or two walkers they could see moving along the sidewalks on either side, was empty. That wasn’t counting the cars that littered the roadways nor the spare bits of paper that rippled in the breeze. The sun provided them with a bright white light, but not a bit of warmth. It was still bitterly cold and caused their muscles to ache and shivers to wrack their bodies. By now, they had been exposed to the cold for a full twenty-four hours, yet found relief when they had warmed up during running. However, the running drained them quickly of energy they needed to be completely alert and the drive to press on. It was no doubt that they had to keep going, but if they did or didn’t was a completely different thing.

Kat stepped first onto the vast, manmade structure that had once been an icon of New York City. The others soon followed behind her as they took slow steps across the sidewalk, giving themselves time to catch their breath completely and rest up a bit before battling their way through however many walkers were in Brooklyn.

“I swear, if we make it to this place safely, I’m giving up cigarettes,” Frank said, more like wheezed, inciting a few laughs from some of the group.

“Same here, Frankie,” Gerard said through a chuckle. Kat merely gave them a small smirk before shaking her head. Both she and Johnny knew she wouldn’t give up cigarettes, even if it was the end of the world as they knew it.

About halfway along the structure, Kat fell behind and walked by Dylan for a few moments before producing a folded sheet of paper from her jacket pocket and handed it to her. The taller brunette frowned a bit and looked over the piece of paper.

“What’s this?” She asked, pocketing the paper almost immediately.

“It’s that drink I made at Christmas,” Kat replied with a slight smirk. “I figured if you make it, and I don’t, someone should carry on the tradition of drunken Christmas joy.” Dylan merely gave her a small smile and a nod.

“Well…thanks,” she said softly, before the loud cawing of a crow caught their attention. It was just then they realized how many crows were perched on the wires and rails of the bridge, as if they were waiting for someone dead to come by that they could make a feast of. Dylan wrinkled her nose at the black birds as Kat sped up and regained her place at the front of the group.

“So, we’re going to go south from here, right?” Ray asked softly as the neared the other side of the bridge. There was two or three infected mulling around the end of the streets, seemingly too daft to work their way around the cars to get to the eight humans. Lily sniffled a bit against the cold and nodded a bit.

“Which way is south?” Kat asked as they passed through the last archway of the bridge. They could hear the snarls and groans of the few walkers just in front of them, yet beside that completely silence.

“Go right,” Lily replied softly as they picked up their pace as to avoid another skirmish with the infected. Their joints and muscles were already nearly giving out on them as they walked; after a few months of poor eating and lack of exercise. They didn’t know how well they’d fair if they ran into another group of walkers like they had on 34th street.

Brooklyn lacked the tall buildings of Manhattan, which made the streets seem a bit wider and had the lot of them feeling less anxious and frantic. They followed Kent Avenue, keeping the Hudson River to their right as they saw the large, skeletal cranes rising from the water’s edge and knew they were getting close to the Brooklyn Naval Yard. Thankfully, they hand only encountered eight or nine walkers, a few of which acknowledged their presence and had to be taken care of.

A tall, barbed wire fence suddenly cut through their path, causing them to pause and glance to the shapes of the buildings that rose just beyond the docks that lay in front of them. Kat pulled down the paisley scarf she had covered her nose and mouth with and glanced behind at the seven that followed her. She didn’t say anything and merely bit on the inside of her cheek nervously. This was it. They had finally reached the Brooklyn Naval Yard and they would soon find out if there were actually survivors besides themselves or if all their planning and stress had been in vain.

“Is everyone doing alright?” She asked finally, turning her eyes to the tall fence before following it until her eyes met a small white booth and a red and white arm, made to lift and lower, blocking the everyday traveler from getting into the Yard. There were murmurs of the group’s answers behind her, none of them belonging to her brother. She glanced over to him with worried eyes. “How about you Johnny? You okay?” She asked softly.

“Yeah,” he said through a sigh, looking over at her and giving her a terse nod, “I’m fine.” Kat reached out her hand and clasped it around his shoulder before pulling her scarf back over her mouth and checking the number of bullets she had left in the magazine of her gun. She had gone through about half of her store, and knew that if there was no one at Brooklyn Naval Yard, she wouldn’t have enough to get them back safely. She glanced up and around to the seven that had made it from New Jersey, through a walker-laden Manhattan, and to Brooklyn without so much as a scratch. To die now, or to find nothing as reward for their troubles, would seem a terrible thing. They wouldn’t have much hope if the army wasn’t here, or had been and since died out.

“C’mon then, I think it’s right through here,” Kat said as she began to walk toward the small, toll booth-like structure. She stepped over the red-and-white mechanical arm, gun poised to fire at anything that came their way. Soon enough, they followed behind her into the Brooklyn Naval Yard. In the slight protection the high, barbed wire fences, their anxiety eased off ever-so-slightly. Still, they couldn’t trust the fence alone, for all they knew the fence could have been completely demolished on the other end of the Yard.

So far, they hadn’t seen any infected within the fenced in area, which calmed them even more then the fences alone. They thought that the lack of walkers meant that there must have been some sort of force unbeknownst to them that got rid of them. Either that or the walkers were too dumb to get past the all too easy barriers of the yard. The dark water of the Hudson lapped against the sides of the docks as they crept around the empty place. Sickening enough, they had spotted a few bodies lying around, half decayed, probably only feet away from where they worked.

“I think this brick building up here is it; the Steiner warehouse,” Frank said quietly, his hazel eyes trained on the large building that lay two buildings beyond them.

“Look,” Ray said pointing to piles of sandbags and large, army green tanks that lay dormant, “they must have been here.” The air had gone completely still around them, something seen as odd since they were right on the water, but it was still frigidly cold. As they passed by the large war juggernauts known as tanks, they noticed bodies lying halfway out of the openings on top of the tanks. Their skin was an eerie grey, mouths ajar, and their bodies gone rigid with rigor mortis.

“Fuck,” Johnny hissed quietly as he steered clear of walking too close to the bodies and tanks that flanked the only way to the Steiner warehouse. A line of sandbags lined the fence and two Army jeeps were parked just behind the tanks. The brick building was fully in view now, and they noticed just how tall it was. Large, windows flanked the top floors of the building, a few of the many window panes missing. Other than that, there were no noises, no sounds of life anywhere within the Yard. The eight stopped just at the two Army jeeps, staring hard at the building, looking for anything; a normal human, a soldier, a walker, anything. The nothingness that met them was something that none of them could handle. They needed concrete evidence that there were humans still there, or that the walkers had gotten them all.

“Damn it,” Mikey growled and kicked one of the jeeps tire out of anger, “they’re gone! I knew it.” Kat merely stared out across the Hudson, tears of pure exhaustion welling up in her eyes. Johnny sank into the seat of one of the Jeeps and held his head in his hands. Gerard fisted his messy black hair in his hands, letting out a heavy sigh. Dylan glanced over to Frank and bit her bottom lip, watching as the man stared unblinkingly at the asphalt beneath their feet. Ray kicked a few rocks around, trying to think of what they were going to do now; there was no way he’d spend the night in another freezing cold van. Lily, however, kept her eyes fixed on the warehouse, giving the brick structure her undivided attention.

Just as Kat was about to open her mouth and give a suggestion as to what they should do next, Lily saw one of the large doors on the bottom floor slide open. Her jaw dropped and she lifted a shaky finger to the building.

“Guys…look,” she murmured in a light, awestruck tone. The rest of the group glanced to her then followed her finger to the warehouse just in time to see eight men, clad in olive green Army uniforms take knees. Suddenly, a hailstorm of bullets flew toward the eight survivors, causing them to scatter and try to hide themselves behind the two army jeeps in hopes they wouldn’t be shot. Bullets ricocheted musically of the ground in front of them, off the jeeps and tanks. The eight in the line of fire could only hope that hiding would be enough to keep those bullets from reaching their intended target.

Kat, despite how afraid she was, turned to the eight that were firing at them and began to fire her gun in return; fearlessly taking steps toward the eight men that fired their much more powerful guns at her. A strangled cry behind her nearly brought her attention away, but she wouldn’t back down until the crossfire stopped. A bullet barely grazed her left arm, cutting through her leather jacket and layers of shirts, leaving a long, thin laceration in its stead.

“Ray,” she heard one of the guys shout behind her as she heard her brother shout her name at nearly the same time. Suddenly, the guns firing at her stopped as she saw one of the men produce a megaphone before glancing hurriedly over her right shoulder. Huddled beside the jeep to her right where Dylan, Frank, and Johnny were, completely unscathed. To her left, her eyes quickly glanced and locked with Gerard’s, then followed to Mikey, Lily, then Ray, whose left arm was covered in blood.

“Drop your weapons,” she heard a stern man’s voice call from the crackling megaphone. She studied the pained look on Ray’s face and suddenly felt a rage bubbling within her.

“No!” She called in return as Johnny quickly joined her side, fussing quietly over the profusely bleeding nick on her arm. “Not until you lower yours!” The man with the megaphone turned to the men and one-by-one their guns slowly lowered and pointed away as the shaken group of eight survivors slowly began to come from hiding. Kat sighed heavily and tucked her gun into the back of her jeans and lifted her hands, showing the man that she no longer held the pistol.

Slowly, the man with the megaphone, followed by two others walked toward the group as Kat removed the scarf from her face and stepped over to Ray, wrapping it around the bullet wound on his arm. She was careful not to hit the wound itself or put too much pressure on it, since that would just press the bullet in even more. Johnny quickly took note and did the same with Kat’s arm as the three men stopped in front of her. The one with the megaphone had a very sculpted looking face, his cheek and jaw bones very prominent, and a bit of stubble on his chin. His wide blue eyes were harsh and unyielding.

“Sorry about that greeting,” he spoke in a voice that looked softer than the man speaking, “we haven’t seen any survivors in a few weeks now…so we merely though you to be infected.” Kat’s eyes flickered to the men flanking him quickly before glancing over to a very pale looking Ray.

“Do you have a doctor for him?” She asked in a hoarse voice, keeping her eyes locked on his in a sort of silent challenge.

“Our medic took sick a week or two ago and didn‘t make it,” the man said, glancing around to the eight people watching him eagerly. “I’m afraid the best we could do for you would be to give him a leather belt to bite on, a pair of tweezers to get the bullet out, and a sterilized sewing needle and some string to close the wound and pray he doesn‘t get infection.” Ray gave a small whimper and paled even more. Kat grit her teeth and stayed silent, glancing over at Gerard for a moment before looking away. “I’m Captain Dean and these men behind me are 1st Lieutenant Dewitt and 2nd Lieutenant Tremayne,” Captain Dean said, nodding to the dark haired, blue eyed man beside him, then to the strawberry blonde man on his other side.

“We should take them inside and get them checked out before anything,” Tremayne murmured to Captain Dean. The tall, skinny Captain nodded and glanced to the eight.

“Look, we’re going to take you inside and show you to the barracks you’ll all be staying at.” He turned and motioned to the five others, who quickly walked toward the group. “Follow me,” Captain Dean said before turning, the 1st and 2nd Lieutenants following his actions almost immediately. The five soldiers that he had called over followed behind the group of eight as they walked toward the big, brick building. It was an action that they thought was a little unnecessary, but didn’t question it. They were too shocked to manage any questions at the moment.

The moment the stepped into the building, they didn’t get to see much of the machinery of the dilapidated warehouse. Instead, they were whisked up a rusty, metal staircase and up to where the offices would have been, if the warehouse was still a functioning one. The only got a glimpse of the long corridor of closed doors before begin herded into a long, high-ceiling room that had sixteen small cots lining the sides of the room. Green partitions were pushed back against the wall to reveal the beds. Florescent lights buzzed to life overhead and the eight stragglers barely heard the sound of running generators. A clerestory of thin, long windows lined the very top of the room before the ceiling and the walls and floor were made of a dark, cracked concrete.

“Pick your beds,” Dewitt said in a rough voice as the five extraneous soldiers made their way back down the hall. His sharp, commanding tone jarred a few of the survivors into action and the quickly walked over to a bed in the room, seeing they all wore the same white sheet and green blanket. He paced the aisle in between the two rows of beds, his gun tucked underneath his arm. Without making the effort, the eight had fallen into the same set up they had in the hotel: Johnny, Kat, Gerard, and Mikey on one side and Ray, Frank, Dylan, and Lily on the other.

Kat sent a Johnny a look, since he looked quite nervous about the whole situation, before glancing to Gerard, who was watching Lieutenant Dewitt with an unreadable stare. The man stopped before Kat and held out a gloved hand toward Kat.

“If you’d hand over your gun, please,” he said, staring down at her with bright, almost turquoise colored eyes and a warm, disarming smile. Kat just stared at him, ignoring the throbbing pain in her arm, making no move to get the gun for him. “I assure you, ma’am,” Lieutenant Dewitt continued in a soft, sweet voice, “you won’t have any need of it with us.” She clenched her jaw tightly as she reached and slowly pulled the gun from the back of her jeans and placed it into his outstretched palm. “However, we may suit you up later on, you’ve got quite good aim. Even managed to hit one of the poor Privates on the shoulder,” he said, the smile growing even wider to reveal straight white teeth as Kat continued to stare emotionlessly up at him. He turned and walked over to Dylan.

“Might I take your shotgun?” He asked in a voice that as sweetly as possible challenged her otherwise. Dylan looked down to the old, beat up Winchester in her hands and let out a sigh before glancing over at Lily. This was the last bit of their grandfather they had with them, and it didn’t seem right to give it away. However, she heaved a great sigh and placed it into Lieutenant Dewitt’s hand. He gave her a smile that had her skin crawling before turning and leaving the room.

Captain Dean stepped out from doorway with Lieutenant Tremayne and another soldier with dirty blonde hair and a strong-looking, cleft chin that had been unnamed. Captain Dean made sure to send the group of them stern looks before speaking, his expression under constant control to remain completely placid yet with a deep furrow between his brows.

“This man is Chief Warrant Officer Tyler. He’ll be the one guarding you all at night,” the leader said, his voice echoing off the high ceilings and the old tin roof of the building. “Now…we need to thoroughly check you all to make sure that you all haven’t been bitten.”

“I think we’d be smart enough not to seek shelter if we had been,” Johnny grumbled darkly from the foot of the cot he had chosen. Captain Dean’s blue eyes flew wildly to the boy, as if he hadn’t expected the comment to come from him. His jaw clenched visibly under his skin and his eyes bore into Johnny’s.

“And who might you be?” He asked in a restrained voice, sounding almost like he was trying not to yell.

“Johnny. Johnny Barrington,” the boy replied lowly, not giving the Captain the satisfaction of looking away first. The leader stepped forward and poked a finger into his chest.

“You listen up, you little termite-”

“Hey!” Kat called out to him, tearing his attention away from the boy. “We’ve been through enough today, alright? Lay off of him. We’re tired, sore, cold, and hungry…and we’ve been shot at,” she snapped, all but snarling at the man. He cut her eyes at the woman and stepped to her.

“Do you have a name?” He asked brusquely.

“Kat Barrington,” she hissed through gritted teeth, “his sister.” The Captain had an almost humored look come over his otherwise hard features before the ghost of an expression disappeared altogether.

“You’re lucky,” he said in a low voice with a nod. “Normally my men have much better aim.” Kat merely continued to glare up at him. His eyes darted to the scarf tied tightly around her arm. “What’s that?” She glanced down to her left arm and let out an agitated sigh.

“A bullet grazed my arm,” she explained tiredly, bringing her eyes back to his. He stared at her for a moment before his nostrils flared.

“We don’t know that,” he stated before turning to Lieutenant Tremayne. “She gets checked first then check them in whichever order you please. When I return I want them all in fresh clothing and that one,” he pointed to Ray, “can be tended to whenever these eight see fit. Though, I’d prefer it after he’s been checked for bites. If any of them have been bitten, feel free to take them out back and shoot them,” he said coolly before turning his gaze briefly back to Kat before leaving the room.

Kat stared darkly at the floor for a moment before bringing her gaze over to Gerard’s. He was watching her silently, eyes pleading for her to contain her anger for the moment being, before she felt fingers wrap around her arm and tug her over to the door. She kept her eyes locked onto his until she passed through the threshold and into another room. Kat had a feeling she wasn’t going to like this place at all.