Flower of Fire: Survivor Chronicles 4

By Mike Sutton

Survivor Chronicles Book 4

Jefferson, a dead city recently resurrected. To the legion it has no name. And here they recoil after a vicious attack from the wandering cult that they have deemed to be wolves.

Recoil, only to lash out again in search of blood.

Haley and Jason lead the way as the Cohorts march northwards to try and stop the wolves from unleashing a great burning onto the crippled world.

Meanwhile, back in the city, Lucia sets out on her first mission as her squad is sent to probe the northern reaches of the city where they live. There they find a warm welcome.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mike Sutton
• Release date: Aug 16, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476145822

Mike Sutton

A biography eh? Well we'll keep this short and down to the bare essentials. Mike likes shiny objects. Is a passably proficient drooler. And is thankful to the Computing Gods for the benevolent gift of spell-check software to our unworthy species. Since you're interested enough to have gotten this far, kindly leave some feedback in the form of ratings and reviews.

Book preview

Flower of Fire: Survivor Chronicles 4

Mike Sutton

Published by Mike Sutton at Smashwords

Copyright 2010 Mike Sutton

ISBN: 9781476145822

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Survivor Chronicles 1: Rapture

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/90174

Survivor Chronicles 2: Ploughshares into Swords

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/213621

Survivor Chronicles 3: Shepherds and Wolves

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/213631

Survivor Chronicles 4: Flower of Fire

The Mighty Mahmud, the victorious Lord,

That all the misbelieving black Horde

Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul

Scatters and slays with his enchanted Sword.

- Omar Khayyam

Her first mission.

There was something of the expected nervousness - butterflies roaming about her stomach. Lucia was the victim of a persistent buzzing fear that returned to fluster her at the oddest moments. After what felt like years of training, most of the time spent learning how to ride that damned motorcycle, she never even had so much as sat upon a motorcycle before, she had finally been given clearance to go out and find some excitement. Lucia’s only disappointment was that she wouldn’t be allowed to leave the city and head north to get some action with the other scouts. That and she wouldn’t be going out solo. She would be saddled with the rest of the squad, patrolling the empty streets of the reasonably tamed city.

Lucia, Steven and the rest of her squad had desperately yearned to accompany Marcel and his expeditionary force up north. They wanted to take part in running down the savages who had raided their outpost and dragged their friends off into the night.

But Victor had held them back.

Instead he had ordered her squad to continue with their training until they had a few successful missions, nearer to their home, to boast about. Fair enough, since Marcel had returned with a bloodied nose and Lucia herself still had been having trouble mastering the art of riding her ridiculous motorcycle. Still, she had improved light-years since she first sat astride the saddle, but two nothings was still nothing.

Her husband claimed good reasons, excuses, to tout. Logic and all that. He needed Steven to stay here, and the half of the first scout squad had never seen any action, they were too green. But still she was convinced that he had kept the first close to home and assigned the other squads in their place solely because of Lucia.

One might be tempted to believe that she would be awash with a torrent of conflicting emotions, feeling both warmth at the attempts to keep her safe and annoyance that they would dare stand in her way. Really she was mostly annoyed and mildly amused at the base attempts to keep her locked in a cage atop a marble pedestal, neither of which were places that Lucia felt that she belonged. He would learn otherwise. Jefferson was safe.

In response she planned to take her normal approach to dealing with the stupidity that humanity dreamed up. She would just ignore them and do what she wanted. Carefully. She wasn’t arrogant enough to believe that she was indestructible or infallible. Those beliefs had been burned away years ago in a painful and memorable manner. Though Rodge might argue otherwise. Scratch that, Rodge DID argue otherwise.

Victor was right, first squad had been chewed up pretty heavily the last several times they had seen action. It was also true that many of the new members were untested replacements. But at the same time, all of them had already been though their trial by fire. The proof was that they had all survived the last year, minds and bodies mostly intact. Her squad was made up of ornery fighters and bad-asses. Herself included, or so she liked to think. After all, she had been in scrapes and fights that would cause most to lose control of their bowels.

She had killed armed men. Sometimes even in fair fights.

The only thing holding her back was that damned motorcycle, she still wasn’t very good on it. Lucia wanted to kick the thing. She had seen Haley and her husband Jason riding around town and sight-seeing with Steven in the week before the second expedition force departed. Jason had been stretching his leg after taking a rather nasty wound. For a man with a gash along his thigh, he was a decent rider.

While Jason was pretty good, while Haley was outright amazing. The curvy little woman had done a wheelie on her bike that had blown Lucia away.

So, Lucia wasn’t a highly skilled rider. There were more important challenges than that and she met most of them.

True enough, Lucia couldn’t navigate very well outside Jefferson proper. She didn’t know north from south even with a compass in hand and someone pointing the way for her. But that’s why the squad had ten people, so that they collectively had all their bases covered. The legion loved to cross-train and make every soldier as self-reliant as they were capable of being.

The city streets were another story. She could find her way from one end of the city to the other, blindfolded. Sometimes she could tell what part of town she was in just by the smell. Steven said she was good and a valuable asset for the legion and the scouts in the city, which gave her husband yet another reason to keep her close at hand. Victor had been relieved to hear the endorsement, he didn’t even bother to hide it, to pretend otherwise. If there was one thing she hated above all others, it was being treated like a helpless child. She had experienced things that neither of them could dare to imagine. And then they turned around and acted like she would break with the first breeze.

Lucia eyed herself in the full-length mirror that hung on the back of the bathroom door. It was a good thing that the legion hadn’t outlawed vanity along with some of the other sins, because she enjoyed watching her body. Especially in her new uniform. Lucia pulled the leather jacket up over her shoulders. Autumn was here and the winter was approaching fast. For the first time in months wearing the jacket in the city would be more relief than burden. The thick coat would shield both from the sting of the Arctic wind as well as the bite of the walking dead, maybe clubs and knives too.

She knew which she feared the most. She had survived the bitterest depths of winter, and hated the thought of returning. But cold didn’t frighten her. If she were bitten, she would lose everything and her friends would turn on her in a heartbeat. She would do the very same in their place. The Lucia they knew would just cease to exist.

Getting bitten by one of the walking corpses would mean that she screwed up somewhere, and badly.

Now that her jacket was in place, she was ready to be off. All that was left for her was to meet up with her squad and pick up the rest of her equipment in the armory. She was still allowed to carry the knife around the compound, but all firearms were limited to soldiers on duty. Nobody else in the legion was allowed to pack heat. She didn’t like giving up her weapons as America’s second amendment still rung in her ears. Traditions died hard. Little as that mattered now. No, the second amendment wasn’t really important. They were just words. What really bothered her was that she didn’t like being unarmed and helpless even for a moment. Even surrounded by the legion. Especially when surrounded by the rest of the legion. Some of the people that had been taken in were as dangerous as the ones left dead in the street. Even more, since they were so close to the heart.

Her experience said that the legion was infested with spies and other unwanted souls. Spies who could turn out to be assassins at a moment’s notice. She was handy with her knife and quick on her feet. But against attackers armed with smuggled guns, that might not be enough. Especially if the assassins possessed any skill of their own.

The door slammed behind her, ringing through the corridor before her as she ran, announcing her coming like a blast trumpets and her footsteps were the accompanying drums. She skipped the elevator and took the stairway, two or three steps at a time. There was no real hurry on her part, she would be early as usual, she just enjoyed running. One of the few habits that had changed in her life since she joined the legion. She had even gotten Victor to run with her, for a while, he wasn’t in top shape and could never keep up. His idiotically macho attitude forced him to persist and try and keep pace with her. Her husband would never admit that he couldn’t hack it. Any more than she would admit to needing his help. She was going to have to try and cure him of that.

On second thought, he might need to look strong, in case there were any more Andres lurking out there in the shadows.

Lucia wanted to believe that the legion was a giant selfless family now that they had cut out the cancer that had been eating them alive. But then every family had its black sheep, skeletons in the closet, gray areas and ghosts. Siblings bickered while marriages dissolved. They might be a family, but some twenty thousand odd people made for a dysfunctional family that was loaded with strife. Worse yet, they had had their - according to Victor - first murder just a few weeks before. People had been killed by Andre and his people in the past, as well as in encounters with bandits, but this was the first time where a couple of siblings just broke out in a fight and killed one another.

A terrible family tragedy, and the conflict had broken out over a woman. As if they too had been reduced to being mere savages. That was that fact that bothered Lucia the most. Men fighting over women, as if they saw women as second-class citizens or even property. As if the woman’s preference didn’t count for anything. Scarier yet, maybe she just preferred them to fight it out. Such wouldn’t be unheard of. Victor had been so distraught with the news that he had been unable to perform for several days. She changed her mind, this was what bothered her the most in the end.

Steven was waiting at the armory when she arrived, along with Ted and Marie, two members of her squad. The three were the only ones left over from when Haley led the first, and they seemed to have developed a deep bond. Ted and Marie had also developed an attitude problem and seemed to at times think that they were better than the newer recruits, giving them orders and pointing out what they were doing incorrectly. Steven said it was their job. Lucia didn’t care for the cold and arrogant manner in which they held themselves. She didn't enjoy being treated like an idiot girl.

Steven and Victor claimed that she was misreading their intentions and ulterior motivation. The two scouts were senior with a year of experience that involved dozens of engagements and a hundred missions. They had the experience to share. They had also seen the deaths of several close comrades, which would explain their coldness to her and the others. They didn’t know her, and they probably didn’t really want to. If she did something stupid and died after they developed a bond, well that would bring them more pain. Nobody wanted to hurt themselves that way.

If she survived, then they would eventually warm up to her. Or at least that was what Steven claimed was the case.

Also, Lucia was bedding their leader. Victor hadn’t bestowed upon her any special privileges, that she could tell, but jealousy seemed to be another aspect of the family. Everyone was always protective of their place on the ladder. Some might see her as having taken an elevator to the top using nothing but her sweet young body to get what she wanted. They weren’t dumb enough to voice such opinions aloud. Lucia was becoming famous for her skill with her knife after all. And her temper.

All that was left was for her to prove herself out in the field and impress her comrades. Without doing something wild and stupid and reckless. A mistake would just alienate her squad mates even more. Especially if she put them in danger and then wasn’t punished for her dereliction in duty.

#######

Lucia held her .38 in an open palm, feeling the weight and enjoying the sensation of the cool steel against her skin as she bounced the pistol up and down a couple of times. Since she joined the legion the weapon had been cleaned up by the technicians, it had been showing a little wear, as it began to rust over. She had tried to keep it clean, using what little instruction she had been shown, but clearly her knowledge hadn’t been enough. Whatever, it was nice to hold the weapon once again. She felt safe with her trusty little pistol in her hand.

She had scavenged fifteen rounds for the small pistol, two and a half full loads. Not enough for a sustained firefight but it was only intended to be another backup weapon. The legion had given her two full magazines for each of the MP5 and her Beretta 9mm pistol. They also gave her a sword, though she preferred her old mace and would carry that along too. The back of her motorcycle had begun look like a mobile armory. Or so Steven said. She liked to keep her options open when she went out into the city streets, even on a cakewalk job.

No, that wasn’t the right way to think about the city. Not now. Not even before. There were fewer people roaming the streets these days, but that still didn’t make the city safe. She was still worried about the grungers who lived in the city sewers. Something about the morlocks, as Rodge called them, made her skin crawl. No sunlight, not ever, that would drive her quickly to the brink of insanity. Those people couldn’t be completely right in the head, no matter what Rodge claimed. Even if they weren’t cannibals like all the rumors suggested. She didn’t really believe that the grungers were cannibals, no matter what she told Victor. She just liked to tease people who didn’t come from the city. They were so easily led on.

The sewers, a dark maze of tunnels underneath the city streets that were lined with cables of all types as well as water and sewage pipes. She always imagined them as being dank and foul smelling places where human waste congealed and the walls and floors were slippery with mold and slime and other unmentionable substances. Really, they were fairly clean and dry. In the summer they would remain pleasantly cool while the city above roasted. After the onset of winter when the same city was freezing, the underground tunnels would be relatively warm and sheltered from the worst of the weather. The most important part was that there hadn’t been many humans roaming around in the sewers before the apocalypse. The lack of people meant that there wouldn’t be a lot of staggs wandering the sewers afterward.

This all must have occurred to Rodge long before it did to her and she wondered why they never moved into the sewers themselves. Arseneau would never have been able to find them down there. But then, maybe there were other dangers. Clearly their building was a lot easier to defend than a stretch of tunnel. And how would the previous inhabitants take to having uninvited neighbors?

Oh well, it didn’t matter much now, though she would try and remember to ask Rodge when she returned from the mission in a couple of hours.

Lucia felt a little ashamed. Now that she thought about it, she had been acting a bit childish and very immature. She prided herself on being a self-reliant and adult full-grown woman, despite being only seventeen years old. She had matured a lot during the last year after learning a lot of hard lessons. Cliché. It sounded so even in her own ears, one of those afternoon specials, or rather a twisted satire of one made for HBO. Her life had become like one of those ridiculous exploitation movies popular in the 1930s. Down to the moral lesson that came at the end. Kids, listen to your elders. How she hated it at times.

Lucia inspected her bike, kicking the tires and looking closely at the engine to make sure that none of the vital fluids were leaking. There were mechanics who would see to the vehicle to make certain that it was in top condition, but she still had the duty to look over the motorcycle to rule out that there were no glaring defects before she took it out. The scouts had been trained to be able to make minor repairs while out in the field, fixing flats and the like. They had also been instructed well enough in their equipment that they would be expected to notice any other little telltale quirks that the bike might pick up while they were riding. After all, it was the scouts who would be in danger if the equipment failed.

Sabotage. Everything came down to the potential for sabotage. And the scouts were easy targets, especially if their bikes broke down behind enemy lines. Here in Jefferson, ‘the enemy lines’ started just outside of the gate to their compound.

Like all the cavalry who had come before, the scouts of the legion relied on their mounts to get them into battle and then home safely. She might be able to scrounge up another vehicle out on the road, might. Getting a wreck running again with her limited skills and knowledge would be a difficult task at best, next to impossible at worst. After a year or more of sitting idle, most cars would be worse for the wear. On top of the mechanical obstacles she might face in the field, it was certain that the enemy wouldn’t just stand by as she tinkered with an engine or replaced the chain. So Lucia looked over her bike. She wasn’t about to make the long hike home through the corpse-infested city.

Today they were supposed to head out into the northern suburbs, crossing the district bridge for the first time since the legion arrived in the city. There were six bridges leading across the north river and seven to the south. The legion had cleared a grand total of two so far, one as they were entering Jefferson for the first time, and the second after eradicating Arseneau’s army. That left another eleven to explore. They had done a fine job cleansing the swath of land that stood between their compound and the edge of the city to the west and all the way to the lake on the east, but everything on the far sides of the rivers was still wild and infested. So far, they had the downtown district of Jefferson properly mapped and explored. A tall feat that still wasn’t nearly enough for Victor or James.

Now that Arseneau was dead and his army broken, they had time to return to their mission of cleansing the staggerers from the face of the earth. The legion was obsessive about it, to the point that defeating a madman leading an army intent on their own destruction and enslavement was a mere momentary distraction from their true goal. Most people would call it a day and take a rest after such an struggle. Instead the legion moved forward with their plans of destroying as many staggs as they could while waiting to begin their attack on Arseneau’s base. Insanity. And she had been swept up with it.

That confused her. Their obsession was quickly rubbing off which was frightening. Really, she tried to take the only logical view of the whole situation, they needed to clear enough space around them in order for their society to thrive and prosper, and leave the rest of the world to itself. She even said so to Victor. He said that Andre had held the same opinion. The look that her then fiancée gave her that night still left her shivering whenever the image resurfaced in her mind. His eyes burning as he scowled at her for the blaspheme of quoting the devil. She hadn’t made the same mistake twice.

So here she was, preparing to embark on a mission to help to fulfill a crusade that she didn’t fully believe in. But then who needed to? There would be adventure and lots of it and for the time being that would be enough. She never had the urge to see the world, and still didn’t. What was there to see? Forests and mountains didn’t interest her any more than the wildlife. She considered herself a people person with a passion for music and art. She loved cities, from the buildings themselves to their inhabitants. Shops and shows. But now what was there to see? The pathetic crumbs that were left after the cake had been devoured. Sometimes the thought made her want to cry.

End of the World Syndrome Rodge called it. Being left alive with a crippled shell of humanity and only the memories of what was. Suffering under a mountain of regrets. You would likely never see any of her favorite bands perform live. The final episode cliffhanger from last season’s most popular television show? Forget about it, the conflict was never going to be resolved, you would never get to find out if Debbie and Sally did end up together. Sure, you could make up your own ending, and she had several times, but forging a story was a lot different than having one told to you. There was no mystery when you were telling the tale.

Rodge had confessed that sometimes he felt the same way. As did Victor and Steven. Though none of them seemed to be wracked by the same agony as she did when the full reality occurred to them. They just seemed to shrug their shoulders and go on with their lives as best they could. Which seemed to be the best course of action under the circumstances. If only she could make herself stop thinking about what was lost. She wasn’t like Victor or Rodge, she just couldn’t cut off her feelings like that, or silence her own uneasy mind. All she could do was try and get herself so tired that she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on her worries. Sometimes it even worked, sometimes.

No matter, she had more important matters to attend, and maybe they would help distract her from her constant despair. Lucia pushed her bike over to where Steven was waiting and then mounted up and waited for the signal to get moving.

#######

As they rolled out of the garage, Lucia noticed that the warmth of summer had finally seemed to have fallen away with a sudden snap of autumn cold. There was a slight but steady breeze that seemed to nip at her cheeks and ears like a playful lover. After the brutal and oppressive heat of the summer, it was almost welcome. Soon though the hot muggy weather with the occasional thunderstorm would be replaced by the constant howling wind that would rip through the city streets, bringing with it the season’s snow. How she hated snow, and snowballs and making snowmen.

No doubt that if there were a television news weatherman somewhere around, he or she would immediately go into some sort of explanation about how a freezing trough dipped down from the Canadian Arctic, bringing with it the first chills of winter. Lucia could believe that winter was coming, not just fall, but the full deep freeze of the winter. She hated the winter. Even before the collapse. The bone chilling cold air confined her indoors, making her feel like a princess in a story who was trapped by a relentless witch. That was, if she ever once felt like a princess in her entire life.

Getting out of the compound and stretching her legs, so to speak, felt good. Maybe Haley and her Jason were onto something when it came to their love of travel and exploring the world. Lucia suddenly felt the urge to head south, seeking the sun’s warmth. Victor couldn’t understand how she could spend her entire life up in the northern latitudes and still not be acclimated to the cold and she herself couldn’t begin to explain beyond the simple statement ‘cold weather sucks.’ That didn’t seem to clear things up for him so much as a jot, though it often made him shake his head and laugh, promising to take the legion south when they were done cleansing the state that so many of their people had long called their home.

As if it would really much matter. There were no walls separating one state from its neighbor and the creatures could just walk over and re-infest the territory that the legion had previously cleared, should they get the mind to do so. Though it was obvious that the staggs didn’t have the mental capability to really decide on anything, they just followed along wherever their instincts led them. One would need to build a wall to keep them all out.

To have once been human and to now be less than animals. It was a fate worse than death. Worse even than the collapse of human culture.

The city, for ten blocks in every direction centering on the compound, was completely free of all reminders of the cataclysm. At least when the wind wasn’t blowing from the northeast, which was usually the case. When it was, well Lucia had long since lost her taste for anything made from pigs. They had been working hard to destroy the walking corpses and then incinerate the meat that was left behind. Hard, dirty work that she hated for so many reasons more than it being simply difficult and sordid. Just another reminder in an empty city full of regrets.

Steven led the double column northeast towards their destination and past the furnaces that were employed to consume the bodies. Lucia found herself holding her breath automatically as they approached, trying to keep the stench from turning her stomach. To no avail as the rank odor seemed to creep through her barriers no matter how she endeavored to still her breath.

Everything was usually fine - until she caught a whiff of burning flesh on the wind, then it was all she could do to keep herself from upending her stomach onto the street as she rode. Thankfully though she was bringing up the rear, and any spillage on her part wouldn’t immediately be brought to the attention of her comrades.

But here it was and the thought suddenly struck her like an open handed slap across the face. She wanted to be a scout, taking over a dangerous job in a perilous world, and she still couldn’t control the actions of her own stomach. What business did she have out here on the streets if she was so weak of heart and body? She could endanger her comrades, and get herself killed. Or worse.

There were worse fates than dying, some of them even as bad as getting herself infected and waking up as one of the staggs. Being taken by one of the gangs that no doubt ranged the streets outside the legion’s control was only one of the possibilities. Lucia had suffered such enslavement, and she’d be damned if it happened again. The memories of her own captivity had even helped bring her closer to Jésus and Michelle, a shared misery. They never openly spoke of their experiences. Not to anyone. She liked thinking about her captivity even less than the end of the world. The pain deeply was personal to her and the experience was something that that could only be understood by an unfortunate few.

She couldn't talk about her shame and suffering with the people who had shared her fate. She told nobody. Not even her husband. Sometimes she thought that Rodge knew what she had faced, though he never actually came out and mentioned his suspicions. She had often considered coming clean with him and pouring out her heart, especially when she had been in love with him, in the hopes of releasing some of the pain, and maybe bringing them closer together. She still thought about telling him, if only to unburden herself and get a warm hug and a pat on a shoulder while Rodge purred reassurances to her with his wonderfully comforting bass.

Lucia had never so much as suggested anything about the horrors that she had experienced out on these streets to her husband. Not just the captivity, but the other scrapes that she had gotten into while wandering. Rodge called her a danger-magnet, but thankfully only out of Victor’s hearing. If he ever heard about her nickname, Lucia predicted that his reaction would be to swoop in and put her into a gilded cage. She didn’t want to be protected, whether he thought she needed it or not. Whether she actually really did need it or not. No white knights on their chargers leading the cavalry in the last minute to save the damsel in distress. She wasn’t a damsel, and if the need should arise, Lucia would rescue herself.

Now, if he wanted to stand at her side and face the danger with her like they had done while repelling the siege on the legion’s compound - that she could handle. As long as they were both there on the front lines were the action was, weapon in hand and enemies falling all around. She had no doubt that he would be glad to come out and join in the adventure, if he only felt he could. Unfortunately, he was the commander of the legion and commanders usually didn’t get to jump out and fight along side of their troops since the leaders who fought on the front lines didn’t tend to survive for very long as leaders. Her husband was stuck in his own gilded cage, one not of his own making.

He chafed at his position at times, which was plainly obvious to the most casual observer. And to be expected. From what Haley had let slip in their talks, Victor didn’t seem to be capable of sitting still in one place for very long. In the end he always seemed to be compelled to get up and so something physical. In that light, his leading the battle against Arseneau wasn’t surprising. On that point, Haley agreed with him most heartily. She didn’t even seem surprised that her brother had fought on the front line himself. A little disappointed perhaps, he had deeper responsibilities after all, but not surprised.

The streets were still and silent. This very time of day just two years before, the streets would be flooded with cars and the sidewalks crowded with pedestrians. The lonesome feelings and her paranoia began to play tricks on Lucia’s mind. On more than one occasion as the scouts were wheeling past alleyways and crossroads, she thought she saw a flash of movement several blocks off. Just a quick glimpse flashing in the corner of her eye as if someone had just ducked away out of sight just as the column passed. By the time she was able to get a good look, it was gone. Her mind was screaming that the movement was caused by people. Living people. Which was entirely possible, there were still a lot of smaller communities out there that the legion hadn’t found plus all of the sewer dwelling grungers roaming beneath the city streets. People caught out on the streets as they scrounged for supplies. People who did not want to be seen by the scouts.

Ted leaned over and asked You been seeing them too?

Them what?

The mirage people.

What do you mean mirage people?

I mean people who move so quick to hide that you think they’re a mirage. The other patrols have been reporting them for weeks and weeks. And you never actually seem to see them when you’re looking for them. Kind of like magic.

Magic? You’re kidding right?

Mostly, yeah. Still, they’re fast and very shy. We have standing orders to try and catch them when we can. No such luck so far. Especially since we also have orders not to go in too deep. It’s like being in Nam all over again, trying to find a hidden enemy with our hands tied behind our backs. The problem is the bikes you see. They can hear us coming a mile off.

Who are they?

No clue. We think that they might be the folks who live under the city. There are rumors that they’re cannibals. You’re from here, what do you know about them?

I’ve heard the rumors, but nobody I knew ever actually saw anything. There were rumors that Arseneau was a cannibal too. Turned out that they were false as well. But then there were also rumors that he fed his enemies to the staggs. Those were true. I guess that gives these rumors a fifty/fifty chance of being true. The conversation ended as abruptly as it had begun. Ted looked thoughtful and a little apprehensive. She could almost hear his mind working, out in the streets, being watched by eyes you can never actually find, and burdened with a bunch of green recruits. Fuck.

The column rolled to a stop at the base of the bridge. The city had thinned out, with only a few large buildings surrounding the squad and most of the downtown region at their backs to the south. Beyond were the wilds of the old industrial zone. And further on, the suburbs.

#######

#######

Steven led them to the quarter mile long steel suspension bridge that linked Chicago avenue on the south and 123rd on the north side of the river. The legion had cleared most of the wreckage from the span, leaving one lane in either direction open for traffic. Most of the other bridges throughout the city had been blocked off with a wall of wrecked cars that formed impromptu barricades. Whether the walls of vehicles were meant to bar people out, or cage them in, was readily discussed.

The Wight bridge was definitely one of the feathers in Jefferson's cap. Wight Bridge was tall and magnificent, with a polished steel arch connecting the two towers, making it resemble a broken spiderweb. The arch served no technical or structural purpose. It was purely decorative and rather useless. Much to the chagrin of many pre-bridge era Jeffersonians, the bridge had made its way onto the city seal. Lucia didn't see what was wrong with it.

The scouts crossed slowly, watching for unpleasant surprises along the way. A bridge would make the perfect place for an ambush. The travelers would have nowhere to run and retained only the options of fight or surrender. In fighting, at best they would be at a disadvantage. At worst the ten soldier squad would disappear without a trace. Never heard from again.

What would that do to Victor?

Most of the wrecked cars were a product of the panic that spread during the cataclysm. Millions of people were devoured by terror and fled as the dead started rising up and attacking the living. The most basic reflex of fight or flight, that animalistic instinct said that if people were dangerous, then it was best to get away from people as quickly as possible. Which didn’t make much sense to her. It was as if the entire population of the city was blind and the coming of the apocalypse finally opened their eyes. People had always been dangerous, but they still gravitated towards one another.

Her father had said time and time again that the human race is and has always been the most dangerous animal on the planet. Bears, lions and sharks might kill and eat a relative handful of people every year in dramatic displays, but what was that when compared to the number of assaults, rapes and homicides in the municipality Jefferson alone? Let alone all the other metropolises across the country. The only organism that came even approached the level of danger that was represented by humanity were the microbes that caused disease, and even these had been harnessed by humans to help them destroy other humans. It boggled Lucia’s mind that so many dangerous animals would willingly live together in one place at such close quarters. Even more so that she wanted to live in the city no matter the danger to herself.

While the sudden epiphany that humanity was dangerous had driven the hordes from their urban homes, the same fears attracted others who wanted to get in and help their friends and families to escape. Their compassion overwhelmed their instinct to up and flee in the face of danger. The human race’s greatest virtue. Unfortunately listening to their hearts led them to jump in head first at times without thinking things through completely, and that led to the mess that the scouts found on the bridge. Two divergent waves of humanity met and were shattered on those streets and bridges.

Afterwards most of the bridges and exit ramps had been barricaded. Partly through human stupidity, and partly through human ingenuity. The stupidity led to the wrecks and pile-ups during the final days. The survivors then built on the foundations, creating barriers to stem the flow of more dangerous animals. These dams weren’t foolproof by any means, but they did make travel much more difficult when on foot, and nearly impossible by vehicle. The staggs couldn’t climb, and true to their name found even the once simple activity of walking difficult and awkward. A four foot tall chain fence would be enough to hold them back. That was until the crush of numbers was enough to overwhelm any flimsy barrier placed in their path. .

The barricades hadn’t been created by the legion, they were formed by the city’s original survivors in hopes of keeping the majority of the walking dead where they were in those first bleak days. The