New York’s defenses had achieved what they’d set out to do before they’d fallen: the road up to the bridge had survived. It curved northward and gained elevation until it was level with the crossing. Two gleaming towers peeked over the water, which was a hopeful sign the bridge itself had survived too.
The increasing elevation pushed them above the treetops. A firm wind whipped Lynn’s hair about. It carried scents of an ocean she couldn’t see and the ever-present smell of soil and decomposition. She brushed her hair aside so she could soak in the view. On the right was an almost unbroken field of leaves, but on the left a clump of buildings pierced the uniformity—vestiges of concrete and glass, which almost all bore the burden of ever-climbing ivy.
“Why do you think they built the roads like this? Like… high up?”
Lynn swung her gaze away from the wide-open view with regret. Seeing so much clear sky above her made her feel as if she could breathe again. “I don’t know. Maybe it was easier, or they needed the room below. I guess you could walk and drive there, too. I’m sure it’ll go down eventually.”
Dani kept looking at the left-hand side view. She hesitated. “It’s weird, isn’t it? A few hundred years ago, there were hundreds of people living right here—maybe thousands.”
Lynn shrugged. “More than that, I think. If every house had at least one person living in it, that’s… what? A million or something?” It was a word that had very little meaning, especially in terms of people. Are there even a million people left on the planet? There must be, right?
Dani stepped up to the railing and gripped the wire mesh with one hand.
It groaned and creaked under the sudden force.
Instinctively, Lynn checked her surroundings for anything drawn to the sound even as the wind dispersed it.
“I can’t even imagine a million people.” Dani’s voice barely carried to her ears. “Were they in these cars when the bombs fell?” She didn’t turn her head to look at the metal constructs that lay strewn about like the husks of giant beetles. “Trying to get out of the city?”
It was an obviously rhetoric question; Lynn didn’t know what had happened here any more than Dani did. Maybe they had left their cars and had walked home to be with their families. Maybe they’d thrown themselves over the edge of the bridge. She shuddered at the thought and turned so abruptly she startled Skeever.
He jumped back, whimpered, and stepped in place nervously until she reached out to pet him.
“We should go, Dani.”
Dani frowned at her.
Lynn could see the questions swimming in her eyes, but what was the use of talking about the Old World? “We don’t have much daylight left.” Lynn didn’t have to look back to know Dani’s gaze was on her as she walked off. After years of hyperawareness in the Wilds, she knew when she was being watched.
The bridge was massive and far more of a death trap than the ramp leading up to it had suggested. It hadn’t survived either the war or the ravages of time entirely intact; large chunks had fallen into the swiftly churning water below. Lynn had to lead them around the gaps and over piles of rubble. Her aching arm had taken a hit, and Dani’s complexion had gone paler and paler. Lynn took her time for safety’s sake.
By the time they reached the other side, the sun had noticeably changed position.
Lynn looked up at it and made an educated guess about the speed of its descent. “We still have some daylight left.” She glanced at Dani. “Wanna try to make a push to get off this island thingy we’re on?” It was going to be tight; the road seemed to stretch out like a snake through grass and the head was nowhere to be seen. If they made it, though—or at least came close—they would be in spitting distance of the 89 exit Lynn had her eye on. If she dared to make a run for it during the night, she would be home free.
“I don’t know.”
A few paces ahead, Skeever came to a halt and looked back. He panted, and his tongue hung out of his mouth. The crawl across the bridge seemed to have tempered his boundless enthusiasm.
Lynn turned her head to Dani. “Why not?”
Dani shrugged. “I just don’t want to risk camping out on the side of the road if we can’t find somewhere secure.” She didn’t meet Lynn’s eyes.
“That’s quite a different tune than yesterday’s.” An icy hand wrapped around Lynn’s spine where it met her skull. Was Dani on to her plan? “What’s going on?”
Dani set her jaw and looked away.
“Earth to Dani. Tick-tock.” Lynn’s insides knotted.
“My feet hurt, okay?” A little smile tugged at her lips. “I just don’t want to walk anymore.”
The hold on her neck lifted. Lynn laughed, as much out of amusement as relief. The tension in her gut lessened. “Well, we could rest for a few minutes, but I think your feet will only hurt worse when you start walking again.”
“I know.” Dani sighed. “I’m going to sit down long enough to get some food out, and then we’ll go on, all right?”
A few minutes can’t hurt. Besides, they were relatively safe here: they had a somewhat clear view over the treetops, and nothing bigger than rabbits moved along the road that wound away from the bridge. “Sure. I could eat.”
Dani sighed when she sank down to the asphalt. “Ohhh, that’s good.”
Skeever beelined back and went straight for Dani’s face, lapping over her cheek before she could open her eyes.
“Skeever, no!” Dani groaned, but her voice held a little laugh. She pushed at the dog. “I was having a moment here!”
Skeever panted even harder and went around her to get close on the other side.
Dani fought him off with a chuckle.
Lynn tested the sturdiness of the railing before she leaned against it. She watched the two and found herself smiling. “Tell you what: if we make it off the island before nightfall, we’ll find a way down to the water so you can soak your feet.”
“Are you dangling a carrot?” Dani squinted up at her, eyes lit. She managed to get Skeever to settle across her lap.
Lynn grinned. “Maybe.”
Dani laughed, then twisted to drag her backpack up to Skeever’s hind legs. “Well, it’s working.” She pulled out a bag and handed Lynn a chunk of bread from it before unwrapping the two-thirds of a small cheese wheel that had remained after yesterday’s lunch. She cut off another third, divided it, and gave Lynn her half. All the while she had to twist and turn to keep the food away from Skeever’s muzzle and wagging tail.
Lynn pulled the bread apart and smushed the cheese between the halves. She hummed at the sour taste as it hit her taste buds.
“It’s actually a nice day.” Dani looked up at the clear blue sky. The muscles of her jaw flexed as she chewed.
Lynn took another bite and contemplated her surroundings. She supposed it was true; everything man-made was decaying, but nature blossomed. The area was green and lush, with flecks of color breaking up the singular palette. The relentless barrage of sun, wind, and rain had reduced most of the cars here to a state of collapse, making them less present somehow. Birds and monkeys sang and yowled in chorus. Lynn could see how—if the world had been a little less deadly—it might be enjoyable. That was a dangerous thought. Letting down your guard was a surefire way to get killed. “We should go before your feet give out entirely.”