A Bridge Too Far.
"Like my sergeant said in Nam: 'Boys, a hundred of you are going out
on this mission, only fifty of you are coming back.'"
Missing out on all the events the rest of his clan was experiencing at Elisa's apartment and the hospital, Hudson and Bronx had been leading survivors out of the city.
Two nights ago he started herding twelve scared survivors from the 23rd Precinct House toward the George Washington Bridge and the greater possibility of safety on the mainland. During the long journey Hudson's procession had picked up another hundred and twenty people of all walks of life looking for help.
At the first dawn Hudson wanted the survivors to continue on without him, but alone they found different dangers. Zombie activity was reduced while the sun was out, in their place, however, bandits were roaming the streets. These particular survivors were less interested in simple survival than looting as well as taking women as sex slaves. If anything, they were more dangerous than the undead because they were smarter and just as remorseless.
The hundred and thirty two good survivors needed Hudson and Bronx to protect them, so he was back, leading them into the second night of travel. He hoped he could get his flock to safety so he could return to his clan sooner than later.
Finally, after the long journey the bridge was in sight.
"Take a break!" Hudson cried to the small army of survivors following him.
Most groaned and set down their backpacks and what other belongings they could carry, along with the two injured pushed along on stretchers. They sat, happily resting their sore feet.
In the near distance the GW Bridge loomed, their escape rout from Manhattan and into Fort Lee, New Jersey.
"Let us continue as scouts and make sure the rout is safe," Hudson said to the twelve who formed his command structure; they left most of their gear behind and slowly stood. They readied their weapons which were mostly sledge hammers and axes (guns were effective but poor weapons due to their noise), and moved to form the front guard.
Before Hudson lead his recon force forward he checked Bronx's expression with a single pat to the garbeast's head. Bronx was their secret weapon, he could smell a zombie a mile away and was agitated when many of the undead were near.
Now he just whined and panted excitedly.
"Let us go," Hudson said to his small force of fast movers. Bronx had indicated that, at least, there were not large concentrations of undead in the area. The beast, however, could not smell Bandits or other threats that could be waiting at the bridge.
Following I-95 was not easy as all eight lanes were jammed bumper to bumper with still and silent traffic. Not only was space constricted but some of these cars contained zombies. Fortunately, most of the zombies had already fanned out into the city to search for food, making the Interstate one of the safest places to be.
The bridge with its promise of escape seemed to be right in sight when they climbed over a last set of cars, but Hudson's command groaned at the sight they beheld.
The Interstate was abruptly halted by coils of razor wire held in place by metal stakes with signs that proclaimed the Death's Head and images of a man being bayoneted by a soldier.
A large poster board displayed a message written in large red letters.
"Oh my god," the NYPD Sergeant, Hudson's second in command… unfortunately, muttered as Charlie, a college undergrad, stepped forward to read the message.
"Attention, attention," Charlie read. "Anyone crossing this point in direction of the bridge will be fired upon! All citizens and personnel are directed to remain under shelter and await help that will be soon in coming. You have been warned!"
Charles turned. "Love, the United States Army."
"I want all of my tax dollars back," Angelic, a stripper, or former stripper anyway, muttered.
"Shut up!" The Sergeant cried. "Peters! The army would not actually fire on American citizens would they? Especially not a police officer!"
Peters was the only soldier Hudson's group of survivors had scrounged up during their trip across the city. Near noon on the first day he had been sent aboard a helicopter to scout the growing situation in Manhattan. His helicopter could not have picked a worse time to have mechanical problems. The helicopter landed okay, but the rest of his crew would not last the day against the outbreak.
Now, only Peters was left, as the strongest, smartest, and luckiest of his former shtick. Darwinism is a bitch.
"Of course we would," Peters said. "The army would sacrifice the few to save the many. Its pretty much our job."
"The few! The few!" Sergeant cried. "Including police officers who pay their taxes!"
"Excuse me," Angelic interjected. "I pay my taxes too."
"Sure you do!" The Police Sergeant cried sarcastically. "I didn't know they taxed being a prostitute! I didn't think you'd have money left after you paid for your Meth!"
"Fuck you," Angelic barked. "Police are just a gang in blue, the occupation force. Cops like you set their dogs loose on my sister who's only crime was to spend the night at a friend's house, a friend who happened to have a warrant. My sister is permanently disfigured because of cops like you!"
"If your friend didn't associate with criminals she wouldn't have gotten the dog," the Sergeant replied.
"Silence," Hudson grumbled. It was interesting to Hudson of who this catastrophe had brought the best out of, and who the worse.
"Looks like we'll have to go to the Lincoln Tunnel," Charlie muttered
"The Lincoln Tunnel is one hundred and fifty eight blocks in the OPPOSITE direction!" The Sergeant roared.
"Would you calm down," Angelic cried.
"You calm down!" The cop barked in return.
"Quiet," Hudson ordered.
"Yeah, take a break and regain your strength," Angelic said to the Sergeant.
"Fuck!" He sputtered and walked off, along with other frustrated and scared members of the group who were now exhausted and disillusioned.
Hudson sighed and stepped up to the barricade. Beyond the stalled cars had been plowed off the eight lanes and the bridge could easily be seen across the empty interstate. Bodies littered the roads in piles, but that was nothing new in this city.
Bronx sniffed and whined, appearing worried in his way.
Hudson squat and studied the situation.
The lights were on at the bridge as well as in Fort Lee across the Hudson River; but the atmosphere was still and silent.
Soon Charlie and Angelic joined him, "what do you see?"
"I know you are not hunters," Hudson said. "But the best way to stalk your prey is to sit in silence and let them make the first move."
They seemed to get the idea and went back to the group's equipment. They returned with night vision goggles and binoculars and started watching the bridge along with Hudson; the soldier joined them as well.
"I see a tank on the bridge," Angelic said. "Armored trucks too."
Peters, the soldier, took the scope away from her and watched. "Two Abrams tanks, six Bradley Fighting vehicles, a landed helicopter, dozens of concrete and sandbag bunkers, and a partridge in a pear tree," he set down the binoculars. "Shit."
Hudson sat in silence, trying to recon the area in a different way. Through the smell of the air, the way the wind blew through his wings, the minute sounds of the of the buildings and streets around. He tried to read the secret language of the terrain, but the city was not talking to him.
"Hudson," Angelic asked.
"Peters, what is your appraisal of the situation," Hudson broke his trance like silence.
"If their threat is serious then they will kill us long before we reach the bridge," Peters said. "What bothers me, however, is that the Army would never allow a bridge that is not under their control to stand in a war zone."
"What do you mean," Hudson asked.
"Take for example that the Army is out battling the Nazis and we lose," Peters said. "The Army would have to retreat in a hurry and would destroy every bridge it crossed to slow the enemy. According to US Military Doctrine any bridge not in its direct control is under enemy control and is subject to destruction. If the GW was under our control then ten thousand troops would be garrisoned in and around it and they would not be killing everyone who came near.
I think the zombies swarmed the bridge and killed everyone in their way before the garrison could blow the bridge."
"If you are wrong and a single soldier holds one of those machine guns, they'll splatter us all over the carpool lane," Angelic said.
"We have to make a decision," Hudson said.
"No," Angelic said. "Hudson you are our leader, we go where you tell us to."
"What if he's wrong," Charlie asked
"Then we die," Angelic answered. "But, do you want to give Sergeant Shultz there the opportunity to sway the vote?" She asked, meaning the police sergeant.
"Good point," Charlie said. "So Hudson, what's it going to be?"
Hudson continued to study his surroundings and knew it was all too quiet, no doubt Fort Lee had already been wiped out by the outbreak. Even if his group survived the bridge they would simply face more zombies in New Jersey and beyond.
But as Hudson looked he could see another option. A structure that loomed high in the sky with a single light at the top like some sort of lighthouse.
"Xanatos," Hudson grumbled.
"Excuse me," Angelic asked.
Hudson knew Xanatos could very well be responsible for all this and may decide to kill them on site. But there was a chance, a distant chance, that the billionaire would be willing to ferry the entire group to safety aboard one of his helicopters. Risking Xanatos seemed better than risking the army and the undead.
"Walker!" Someone cried.
Hudson turned and saw a heartbreaking sight, a beautiful woman with half of her face peeled away and hanging as if a bloody rag. She was walking toward them from the darkness of the city.
"Lass!" Hudson cried out to her. "Lass!"
A loud warbling war cry split the silent night, it was the Sergeant charging at her with the sledge hammer he had pilfered from a Home Depot raised high.
"Stop him!" Hudson cried before charging in himself.
The Sarge was about to bury the weapon into the young woman's head when Hudson caught him.
"She's a zombie, can't you see?" The Sergeant cried.
"We have rules that you and I agreed on," Hudson said as he pulled the hammer away. "We call out to the questionable undead before destroying them."
"She's alive!" Charlie cried as he had reached the woman.
"That's why, lad," Hudson said to the Sergeant and went over.
They had the injured woman on her back, she wasn't a zombie, at least not yet. Though there was no substantial evidence that she had been attacked and lacked the tell tale fever of one about to turn she was not in very good condition otherwise.
"Come on, let's try and save her," Hudson ordered.
The others replaced the skin over her face and put pressure on the injury, packing gauze and wrapping it tight; but she was nearly out of blood. Her arteries were flat and they could hardly palpate a pulse to gauge her condition.
Hudson quickly realized that itt had taken a superhuman effort for her to run this far for help… he looked up fearfully, only one threat could have motivated her so.
Ominously, Bronx growled.
"Get her on a stretcher and get the main group up to the barricade," Hudson ordered as foot scrapes could be heard from the not so distant shadows, something shattered, a car hood crumpled with the addition of sudden weight.
"Jesus Christ!" The Sergeant roared. "She led them right to us!"
"No," Hudson replied. "They've been following us all along."
"We need to get out of here!" Charlie cried.
"Relax," Hudson drew his sword. "We have a little time still."
Suddenly, someone or something came charging from the shadows from the direction of the undead. Hudson and his survivors had already learned that zombies could run.
"Hold it! Get down on the ground!" Some of Hudson's cops cried.
"Declare yourself!" Hudson yelled.
The runner cried and stopped, "hey! Hey! Don't shoot!" He wore a gregarious fur coat with many necklaces and rings, obviously a looter. "There are ten thousand zombies two blocks from here and headed this way, I shit you not!"
"Stay with us," Hudson said to him. "Safety in numbers."
"You mean dinner on a platter," the man said, but he stayed.
Hudson's group moved up to the barricade with infuriating sluggishness as the sounds of an approaching army of zombies became harder to ignore.
"Angelic, Charlie, you have to lead the others across the bridge," Hudson said, there was no longer time to get them to Xanatos. "Myself, the police, and soldier, will remain to hold off the zombies and buy the rest time."
"Fuck that!" The Sergeant cried.
"You are a cop, man!" The new arrival had the balls to cry.
"I retired the moment the world ended," he screamed back.
"Sergeant, we need you," Hudson said. "You are my second in command and I need you to help me organize the defense!"
Instead of considering the offer he gave a comical hop, then turned and jumped the barricade. The former Sergeant ran up the Interstate in the direction of the bridge where he vanished into the dark; no shots rang out.
"Maybe no one is on the bridge," Charlie said.
"Maybe they're not shooting individuals," Peters answered.
"Maybe that glorified meter-maid has karmic asshole protection," Angelic grumbled.
"Let's stay objective," Hudson said. "Angelic, Charlie, lead the main group across the bridge. The rest of us will try and hold 'them' off."
"What if the army starts shooting?" Angelic asked.
"Do everything you can to show them that you are not zombies," Hudson said. "Should that not work, run."
"I don't think I can do this," Charlie said.
"Just take my hand and lead me across the bridge, okay," Angelic asked. "We can make it, I promise."
"Okay," Charlie whispered as a loud scream pierced from the direction of the undead, the city had just lost another survivor. "I'm ready to go now."
Hudson and his rear guard of warriors watched as the main group crossed the barricade and started their long, slow, journey toward the Toll Booths and machineguns beyond. So far no shots rang out but that meant little.
Left alone in terrible din set up by the approaching zombies, Hudson inspected his new warriors.
Modern humans made poor warriors, but Hudson was impressed with these twelve very brave men and women willing to risk their lives for strangers. They looked back at him in silent stoicism, Hudson was now in unquestioned command and their lives depended on his orders.
"Stand fast lads," Hudson said.
The sounds of the approaching zombies grew louder, deafening.
"Remember why you are here," Hudson said. "We are fighting for the survival of our peoples. Should we run like cowards we will just have to fight again another day, possibly in worse company. I say we finish this now and give our people the chance to live."
"Well said," Peters said.
"Stand with me, soldier," Hudson said to Peters. "Help me organize the defense."
"Alright, let's bring on the pain," Peters answered. "Weapons free ladies and gentlemen, conserve your ammo and aim for their lumbar spine to cripple them, that's behind the belly button. Fall back from car to car and keep the river to your back to keep them from flanking us. They're slow and stupid, we will pile them up so high the rest will not be able to crawl over. Understand?"
The others nodded slowly.
Peter's stepped up to Hudson, "this is my first combat command…"
"Eye," Hudson replied.
"If we survive this could I use you as a reference? This will look great on my resume, I might even make sergeant," Peter's smiled.
Hudson chuckled.
The zombies emerged into the light, silently oozing over the still cars and rolling in their direction. Hudson drew his sword.
"Jersey never smelled so good," Angelic said as they crossed over the George Washington Bridge nearly an hour later. From what they had discovered, Peters theory had been correct. The military garrison didn't understand what they were up against and had been overwhelmed. Those that had been zombified or survived had already moved on into New Jersey.
In silent Fort Lee Hudson's survivors turned, they could still hear the battle raging on the other side of the river; eerie echoing shouts and gunshots across the Palisades.
The survivors turned and continued their silent helpless journey, it was obvious that Fort Lee and possibly all of New England had fallen to the outbreak. Safety was still a far way off and they could only hope that Hudson and the others would join them.