Free Web NovelChapter 191: Chapter 191 - Come With Us
Aljun lifted his hand and shaped it into a loose gun, thumb pulling back before he flicked it forward.
"Pew."
Then again.
"Pew."
He aimed at Manhattan like he had done it too many times to count.
"That’s your real problem," he said.
The river moved between them, dark and fast, but none of them looked at it now.
They looked where he pointed.
"Not the water," Aljun went on. "Them."
He lowered his hand, then lifted it again, slower this time, more deliberate, like he wanted them to see exactly where death would come from.
"Guards along the shoreline. Some up high. Some you won’t see until you’re already in range." He paused, eyes narrowing slightly. "Snipers too. I don’t doubt it."
Iyisha’s gaze stayed on the skyline. Glass caught the last light. The buildings stood untouched, clean, like nothing had ever happened there.
"You get close," Aljun said, "they don’t ask questions."
His finger tapped once in the air.
"They just shoot."
The words settled heavy.
Lance shifted beside her. "They don’t take people in?"
Aljun let out a short breath, almost amused. "They don’t want people in."
He looked at them, one by one, letting it sink in.
"Anyone forcing their way gets dropped."
Lance’s jaw tightened. "What the hell... how can they just do that?"
"They can," Aljun said.
Malcolm didn’t react. His eyes stayed on the buildings, tracing distance, angles, entry points, already breaking it down.
Iyisha swallowed. Safe zones had rules. Intake. Structure. You take in survivors or you lose access to government support.
So how—
How was Manhattan still standing like that?
"They say it still feels like before," Aljun added, nodding toward the skyline. "Food. Electricity. Water."
He glanced back at them.
"Some say phones still work in there."
Marybeth let out a quiet breath through her nose. "Is that why you tried to go in?"
Aljun didn’t answer. He just looked at her, one brow slightly raised.
Silence stretched.
"So," Malcolm said, shifting slightly in his seat, voice even, "how do we get there?"
Aljun raised one finger.
"There’s one way."
Iyisha leaned forward without realizing it.
"You don’t go straight."
He turned and pointed toward the burned stretch.
Brooklyn.
The land looked wrong from here. Too open. Too empty for something that used to be alive.
"You go there first," Aljun said.
Iyisha’s eyes followed, and this time she didn’t look away.
"Less guards on that side," he continued. "Thinner coverage. They don’t waste bullets watching a place they already lost."
Lance blinked. "So we just... go there, then cross?"
Aljun looked at him.
Held it.
Then gave a small shake of his head, a faint smirk pulling at his mouth like he almost pitied the question.
"Sure," he said.
Marybeth let out a short laugh. "That’s your plan? Just float down the river?"
Aljun’s brows lifted as he looked at her. "You got a pretty mouth," he said, voice calm but edged. "But all I’ve been hearing is you yapping."
He leaned back slightly. "At least I’ve got a plan. Not like the lot of you."
"Hmp," Marybeth muttered, rolling her eyes, but she didn’t push it further.
Iyisha’s gaze moved between them, then back to Brooklyn. "Brooklyn is full of infected."
Her voice stayed steady, but her grip tightened.
"It’s not just dangerous," she added. "It’s suicide to go there on foot."
"Yes," Aljun said simply.
He glanced back toward the ruined stretch. "After the bombing, they didn’t clear it. Too many infected are across this river."
He tapped the railing lightly.
"You’ll need to move north once you land. Safer crossing point."
Lance shifted his weight, unease creeping in. "Wait—what about the bridge?"
"Gone," Aljun said. "They took it down so nothing crosses over. Even the subways."
His voice dropped slightly as he looked back at Manhattan.
"There’s no other way."
A beat passed.
"I’ve tried," he added.
Iyisha shook her head slowly. "So we go into a place full of infected... just to cross again?"
Aljun nodded once. "That’s the only side where the guards are thinner."
Lance hesitated, then looked back at the river. "What about... the water?"
Aljun raised a brow. "What about it?"
"If something grabs you," Lance said, voice tightening, "like infected in the water. Pull you under—"
Aljun cut him off with a small shake of his head. "Haven’t seen one swim."
He tapped the railing again.
"They go under. Current takes them. Bodies get stuck below or dragged out."
He looked back at them, serious now.
"The river kills most of them before anything else can."
Malcolm’s gaze stayed on Aljun.
"We need you to come with us," he said.
Iyisha nodded once, backing it without hesitation. Aljun knew Brooklyn. He knew the routes, the gaps, the places people avoided. With him, the path wasn’t blind.
Aljun smirked. "I don’t want to die young."
Iyisha leaned forward, her hand resting on the table, steady. "The people here," she said, glancing around the space behind him, "they came together after failing to get in. Right?"
Aljun didn’t answer.
"This place has no structure," she continued. "No rules. People just stayed close because they had nowhere else to go. Because they’re still trying."
Her eyes held his.
"You too."
A small pause.
"Didn’t you say you tried?"
The smirk faded.
"We’re offering you certainty," she said.
Aljun’s expression flattened, then hardened. "I’d rather slit my own throat than trust any of you."
Iyisha glanced at the others, then back at him.
"I need to go inside," she said. "I’m looking for someone important."
Her voice stayed even.
"We have the same goal. We all need to gain entry. You don’t need to trust us."
Aljun’s head tilted slightly, swaying once as he thought it through.
Iyisha moved without thinking and slipped her arm around Malcolm’s, holding onto him. The shift made him go still for a second.
"Malcolm’s here," she added. "So you’ve got nothing to worry about."
"Damn," Marybeth said, her tone shifting, a hint of approval slipping through.
Iyisha glanced at her and grinned.
Lance had a smile too, small but there, like he hadn’t expected that to work.
Iyisha’s eyes moved to Malcolm.
He stood at the edge of the balcony, looking straight ahead, unreadable.
"If I come..." Aljun said.
All of them looked at him.
Iyisha turned back, her smile still there, but tighter now, waiting.
Aljun leaned back in his chair, one hand resting on the table, fingers tapping once, then stopping. His gaze moved from one of them to the next. Malcolm. Marybeth. Lance. Then back to Iyisha.
He studied her longer.
The air shifted.
No one spoke.
The river kept moving behind them.
"You talk like you already made it," Aljun muttered, more to himself than to them. His jaw worked slightly as he looked away, then back again.
"I’ve seen people like you," he went on. "Too confident, too proud and too naive." He gave a short, humorless breath. "They don’t last."
Iyisha looked at him with heat.
His eyes flicked to Malcolm.
"You," he said quietly. "You might."
Malcolm didn’t respond.
Aljun leaned forward now, elbows on his knees, hands clasping together as he looked down for a second, then back up.
"If I come," he said again, slower this time, weighing it, "we do it my way."
Marybeth shifted but didn’t interrupt.
Aljun’s gaze moved to the river.
Dark water cutting through the city.
"We move at night," he said.
Iyisha’s chest tightened slightly.
"We’ll need a raft."
Iyisha looked out at the water.
It already looked dangerous under the light.
At night—
Her throat tightened as she swallowed.
"How do we even see?" Lance asked, quieter now.
Aljun didn’t look at him.
"You don’t," he said.
His eyes stayed on the river.
"You feel it."
