Free Web NovelChapter 254: Chapter 253 - To Bronx
They entered the Bronx through the Hutchinson River Parkway drawbridge.
Malcolm stopped before the first lane and raised one hand. Everyone behind him stopped with him. The bridge stretched ahead under the noon light. Dead cars blocked parts of the road. Weeds had grown between cracks in the concrete. A delivery truck sat crooked near the center with its back doors hanging open.
No one moved on the other side.
That did not make it safe.
Arnulf crouched near the side barrier and looked down at the river below. The drawbridge was not lifted, but one section had shifted out of line. Not enough to stop them. Enough to make running dangerous.
"We can cross," Arnulf said.
Malcolm looked past him. "Slow."
Harry leaned one hand on Archie’s shoulder. His breathing was already rough. "I love slow."
Archie glanced at him. "Are you feeling fine?"
Harry groaned. "Stop crowding me, Millers. Everyone will think you’re my boyfriend."
Iyisha chuckled under her breath.
Archie did not.
His hand stayed close to Harry’s back, ready to catch him if his legs gave out.
They had not gone through Pelham Bay for a reason. The subway entrance near the area bothered Arnulf more than the trees. The lab could still be using it, and underground routes were harder to read from a distance.
So they took the drawbridge.
Iyisha walked behind Malcolm with her knife loose in her hand. Archie kept Harry between himself and Arnulf. Aljun stayed near the barrier and checked the cars as they passed. He did not walk close to anyone unless he had to.
The first car was empty.
The second was not.
A walker sat in the driver’s seat with its head bent against the steering wheel. Its jaw moved slowly, chewing nothing. Malcolm pointed two fingers at it, then at Arnulf.
Arnulf opened the door carefully.
The hinges groaned.
Everyone froze.
The walker’s head lifted.
Arnulf drove his knife through its temple before it could make noise. He held it there until the body stopped twitching, then lowered it back into the seat and eased the door shut.
Harry watched him. "You’re becoming a fine wanderer."
Arnulf wiped the blade on the dead man’s shirt and grinned. "So are you."
Harry chuckled.
It came out rough. He knew what was happening to him. They all did. Arnulf was making it light because Harry was making it light.
Archie’s face did not change.
He looked at the bandage under Harry’s sleeve and tightened his grip on the knife.
They kept moving.
Halfway across, the bridge gave a low metal groan under their feet.
Iyisha stopped.
So did Malcolm.
The sound came again, but not from the bridge.
From the delivery truck.
Malcolm lifted the rifle.
Arnulf moved left. Aljun moved right. Archie pulled Harry behind the nearest car.
Iyisha stayed where she was. Her body reacted before her head did. The back of her neck tightened. Her stomach turned, but not from the canned food.
Something was wrong.
A walker slid out from behind the truck.
Then another.
Then three more.
They had been standing there in the truck’s shadow, too still to notice. Their heads turned at the same time.
Arnulf went first. He caught the nearest walker by the shoulder and stabbed upward through the jaw. Aljun took the one on the right, fast and quiet, but his knife stuck on bone. He jerked once, hard, and almost lost his grip.
Iyisha moved before she thought. She caught the walker’s shirt and pulled it off balance long enough for Aljun to free the blade and drive it in again.
He looked at her. "Thanks." ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com
"Move."
The third walker came at her with both arms out. Iyisha raised her knife, but it stopped two steps away.
Its head twitched toward her, then toward the road behind them.
Iyisha’s hand tightened around the knife.
Malcolm saw it. "Iyisha."
"I didn’t do that."
The walker turned its head again, slow and wrong. Then it walked past her and hit the side of a car with its shoulder.
Harry stared. "That normal now?"
"No," Malcolm said.
The last two walkers reached them before anyone could ask more. Malcolm crushed one against the hood with his rifle and drove his knife down. Arnulf took the other.
Then the bridge went quiet again.
Iyisha looked back the way they came. The road behind them was clear, but her skin still felt tight.
Malcolm came close enough that only she could hear him. "What did you feel?"
"I don’t know."
"Try."
She looked at the walker still pressing against the car. It scraped one hand along the paint but did not turn back to them.
"It felt like it was listening to something else." fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓
Malcolm followed her gaze. "Not you?"
"I don’t know."
He did not like the answer. He said nothing.
They passed the truck one at a time. The back was empty except for old crates, torn straps, and dried blood across the floor. Arnulf checked under it before letting Harry cross.
Harry’s foot caught on broken metal near the middle.
Archie grabbed him before he fell.
Harry sucked air through his teeth. "I’m fine."
Archie looked down at the bandage under Harry’s sleeve. A dark line had spread along the cloth.
Arnulf looked at Malcolm.
Malcolm looked ahead. "Move."
Harry pushed Archie’s hand away. "God. I hate bridges."
They moved faster.
At the far end, the road dropped toward the Bronx streets. More cars clogged the lanes. A few walkers wandered near the ramp, but they were spread out. Easy enough if nothing ran.
Then one twitched.
It stood near a burned sedan with its back bent too far forward. Its shoulders jerked once. Twice. Its hands slapped against its thighs.
Malcolm raised his fist.
Everyone stopped.
The twitcher’s head snapped toward the bridge.
Harry whispered, "Shit."
"Down," Malcolm said.
They dropped behind the cars. Iyisha crouched beside Malcolm, one hand on the door frame, the other pressed low against her stomach before she caught herself and moved it away.
Malcolm saw.
His jaw tightened, but he looked back at the twitcher.
Iyisha tried to slow her breathing. Twitchers were easier with guns, but they could not waste noise unless they had no choice. Up close, twitchers were worse. Too fast. Too sudden. Too hard to read.
The twitcher moved one step, then stopped with its whole body shaking beside the burned sedan. Its shirt hung loose from its shoulders, and its arms looked like bone wrapped in old skin. Its neck was too thin for its head.
Iyisha tightened her grip on the car door.
Twitchers were fast and unpredictable. That was the danger.
Its fingers slapped against its thighs, faster and faster, until Malcolm shifted the rifle to one hand and stepped out from behind the car.
"Malcolm," Iyisha hissed.
He did not look back.
The twitcher’s head snapped toward him, and then it launched low across the road, all elbows and knees and scraping feet. Malcolm did not back away. He waited until it crossed the front of the burned sedan, then stepped in and drove his boot into its chest.
The hit cracked through the road.
The twitcher slammed back against the car and dropped, but its hands were already clawing for the pavement when Malcolm reached it. He did not give it time to rise. He planted his weight and kicked under its jaw hard enough that the head snapped back too far.
Skin tore.
The neck gave.
The head came loose and hit the road near the tire.
The body kept moving for a few seconds, hands scratching at the concrete and legs kicking twice before it finally dropped flat.
No one spoke.
Harry stared at the head. "Well. That was disappointing."
Archie looked like he might be sick.
Malcolm wiped his boot against the road. "Move."
They moved along White Plains Road one block at a time. Harry did not know the shop name. He only remembered a corner shop, a red sign, and some kind of deer logo or target, so Malcolm kept them low behind cars while Arnulf checked the storefronts and Aljun watched the windows.
Iyisha saw the clothing store before they found the gun shop. The front window was cracked but still standing, and inside, clothes hung from one wall while fallen racks blocked the floor. She looked down at herself. Her shirt was torn and stiff with river water, sweat, and dried blood. Her pants had mud on the knees and a rip near the thigh. She looked too close to the things outside.
She caught Malcolm’s sleeve. "Can we go in there for a bit?"
He turned. "No."
"I need clothes."
"We need weapons."
"I know, but look at me."
He did, and his jaw tightened.
Marybeth stepped beside Iyisha. "I’ll go with her."
Lance moved too. "Me too."
Malcolm looked at him. "No."
"She needs clothes," Lance said. "So do we."
Marybeth pulled at her own shirt. "We smell like river, blood, and dead people. If another group sees us, they’ll shoot first."
Malcolm looked toward the shops Arnulf was checking, then toward the walkers down the road. He pulled his sidearm and handed it to Iyisha grip first. "Fast."
Iyisha took it. "We’ll be safe. Go. They need you there."
He did not like that answer, but he let go. Marybeth already had her knife out, and Lance picked up a short pipe from the gutter and tested the weight.
Malcolm looked at Marybeth. "If something runs, leave the clothes." She nodded once, and they crossed to the clothing store while the others moved farther down the row of shops.
The front door was locked. Marybeth wrapped her sleeve around her hand and pushed at the cracked glass while Lance pressed his boot into the weak spot until the glass broke inward. All three stopped. A walker near the pharmacy turned its head, then lost interest.
Iyisha climbed in first with Malcolm’s gun raised. The store smelled like dust, old fabric, and rats. Marybeth grimaced as she stepped over the glass. "Now I remember why we didn’t change at the base."
Lance looked around. "Why?"
Marybeth kicked a fallen shirt. Something small ran from under it and disappeared behind a shelf. "Rats."
Iyisha nodded. "Lots of them."
They moved fast. Iyisha grabbed a dark long-sleeved shirt and shook it hard until dust came off. Nothing ran out, so she kept it. Marybeth found cargo pants under a fallen rack and tossed them over, then Lance pulled a jacket from a hook near the wall and held it up.
"This has pockets."
"Keep it," Marybeth said.
Iyisha shoved the clothes into a small backpack from behind the counter and looked across the street. Malcolm had stopped at the next corner. Arnulf scraped dirt off the sign above a narrow side door with the back of his knife. There was a faded red circle there, and inside it, almost gone, was the shape of a deer head. Harry pointed. Arnulf looked back at Malcolm and nodded.
They had found it.
Then something shifted above her.
Iyisha raised Malcolm’s gun at the same time Marybeth turned with her knife ready. Lance stepped back from the wall and lifted the pipe. Dust fell from a loose ceiling panel near the back of the store, and when the panel moved again, Iyisha aimed higher.
They moved fast inside the clothing store. Iyisha grabbed a dark long-sleeved shirt and shook it hard until dust came off. Nothing ran out, so she kept it. Marybeth found cargo pants under a fallen rack and tossed them over, then Lance pulled a jacket from a hook near the wall and checked the pockets.
"This has pockets."
"Keep it," Marybeth said.
Iyisha shoved the clothes into a small backpack from behind the counter and looked across the street. Malcolm had stopped at the next corner. Arnulf scraped dirt off the sign above a narrow side door with the back of his knife. There was a faded red circle there, and inside it, almost gone, was the shape of a deer head. Harry pointed at it, and Arnulf looked back at Malcolm before nodding.
They had found it.
Iyisha should have felt relieved.
Instead, her skin tightened.
She turned slowly and looked around the clothing store. Fallen racks. Dusty floor. Broken hangers. Old shirts moving slightly where wind slipped through the cracked window. Nothing else.
Still, something felt wrong.
Marybeth saw her face. "What?"
Iyisha did not answer right away. She looked toward the back room, then at the ceiling, then at the dark space behind the counter. No movement. No breathing. No walker smell. Nothing she could point to.
"I feel like someone’s watching us," she said.
Lance lifted the pipe. "Where?"
"I don’t know."
