BREN

By nightfall, Harrisburg was burning.

It started east, rolling as the tide seeped in fire and blood, slithering toward downtown. Artillery rained down on each neighborhood, filling with bodies and shells, the screams in clangor with gunshots and explosions, a pandemonium that never ceased. Burnt wood, concrete, mortar, and flesh pervaded, a miasma that persisted through the penthouse's thick walls, closed all the doors and windows and tried to block anything from outside: noise, smell, chaos.

In here, we had food, enough to feed twenty-five people for a normal dinner,  Most of the stuff we got from the church, and it was nice to have a decent meal two days in a row. We needed the energy after what we're about to do later that night.

To see the others smile after a good meal, especially tasting Miguel's cooking again, was the little thing in life. To see Wanda and Diana enjoy a sandwich (while secretly feeding Indy under the table), giggling as Miguel, Edgar, and Alfie traded jokes. Even Aubrey smiled after she had just lost her husband. Logan would check on me to see if I was okay, and when I hadn't touched my plate, he would remind me to do so. He's sweet.

This table...we wouldn't have it if we were out there. Death permeated the open grounds while life flourished inside a cage—our new normal.

Murray had been listening on the radio to all the broadcast frequencies across the city. He would often report to me about what was going on, mostly where the fighting was its thickest, but they were awfully getting closer to downtown. Before moving out, I listened to some of the radio chatter with Logan, Miguel, and Charlene.

"The Alphas wanted to take downtown and gain control of the city," Murray told me a few hours ago. "If they succeed, our troops have no choice but to retreat across the river, and the top brass didn't want that to happen. Instead of expecting a battle that can last for a few weeks, we'd end up being here for months."

"Who's the general leading the division?" I asked, hoping it wouldn't be Clemons. I didn't want him near what was going on outside. What if he died?

"General Calchetti. Tough son of a bitch. The brigadier generals are a bit of a wuss, but they know who's in charge. He's the man for the job like this."

Calchetti. I heaved a sigh. Wherever Clemons was, I hoped he was still alive.

"Do we really have to wait until nightfall?" Logan asked.

"We have to. There are still troops crossing the bridge, but once the army is heavily engaged with the Alphas east of the city, we'd have an easier time navigating downtown."

"Well, I hope it's not too late by then. I'm worried about this horde coming."

I nodded. "Yeah, I don't think we should wait."

"Look. If a horde comes, they'll be too preoccupied dealing with ten thousand soldiers than twenty of us. They're the ones at the vanguard, and we're behind them. Let's make sure we don't attract their attention, alright?"

"Sounds good enough for me," Miguel said. "After all that running, the fighting...let the soldiers do the work instead of us." Miguel then shot Murray and Isaacs a wary look. "Er, sorry, guys. We've been with those monsters far longer than you two, so don't take my words as an offense."

"I don't mind," Murray said. "General Calchetti is competent at his job, but it's the suits up top that I worry about. Can you believe that nine senators and a dozen or so governors up for reelection wanted to tour the frontlines three days ago?"

Logan leaned in, shaking his head. "You're kidding me."

"I wish I was. They're fucking treating this like some photo op, parading around HQ with cameras following them everywhere and making sure the soldiers shake their hands, and everyone's gobbling it up out there in the safe zones." Murray pointed out the balcony door. "Hear that? I bet those are the news choppers circling downtown and filming all the soldiers dying for ratings."

Miguel scoffed. "Ha! They've been doing that for years now, amigo. Money talks. Slap that with guns, violence, and the American Dream, and you got a winner."

I folded my arms. "I doubt a wad of paper will be worth something in a year."

Miguel gave me a thumbs up. "Cynical. I like that."

Charlene shivered. "I want everything to go back to normal," she said. "I just want to have a normal latte by walking up to a coffee shop without some crazy killer chasing after me. I miss those times. I haven't even carried a gun for hours, much less parade it on the street. A good way for me to get arrested."

"Ah, the simpler times," Miguel chimed in.

Jun walked down the stairs wearing Isaacs's uniform. I couldn't tell if he looked unhappy wearing it or that he was annoyed he had to stash his bow and arrow inside the RV so that the soldiers guarding the barrier wouldn't get so suspicious. He's probably thinking how ridiculous he looked. I rarely saw Jun shoot a gun, but he was at least good with edged weapons.

"Looking good, Jun," Logan said, nodding.

Jun didn't slip his bored expression. "The pants feel too loose."

Now wearing a simple plaid shirt and jogging pants, Isaacs walked over to him and gave him a belt. "Sorry. I forgot to give you this."

Jun took it and slipped it around his waist.

"That's better," I said.

Jun sighed. "I guess." He felt around his pockets and pulled out a Snickers bar. Jun looked at Isaacs curiously.

Isaacs gently grabbed the candy from Jun. "Oops. I was saving that for later."

The radio suddenly crackled to life. "Millenium, hostiles in Uptown! I repeat. Hostiles in Uptown! Infected swarming all over the extraction point! My men are pinned down out here. We need an evac right now!"

"How many hostiles?" A woman said.

"A lot."

"Numbers, captain. We are sending reinforcements upon your flank. We advise you to hold the line."

"Ma'am, they're drowning the streets everywhere. They just keep coming!"

"Sending a chopper now to your location, T-minus three minutes. We advise you to evacuate your injured and assist the reinforcements. Hold the line."

"The horde?" Logan asked me.

"Possibly. Uptown's awfully too close from where we are." I looked at the clock, and it'll be dark in an hour. I regarded Murray once again.

Murray groaned. "Fuck it. Gather your things. We leave in half an hour."

——

It was good to be prepared for any occasion.

I made sure I had all my weapons with me since I wouldn't see Cora until we were on the river's other side. I had Betty in my holster, my hatchet snug on my belt, and the combat knife sheathed around my ankle. There was a little tingle at the nape of my neck when the Mossberg shotgun touched my hands, feeling its weight, like a long-lost friend that had returned to me. It had been a long time since I last used it, trapped in the storage. If guns can talk, I'd say he misses me, too.

I made sure I got six shells, including one in the chamber. With the slide rack, that's six more. I made sure to pick up a box of shells for my backpack in case I needed to reload, taking a handful and put them inside my pocket and an extra clip for Betty, too. I made sure I didn't forget the flashlight since it's probably dark down in the sewers.

And I didn't want to think about the smell. Yuck.

"Don't forget your Molotov," I said to Peter and Logan, handing each of them a lighter. I placed mine inside my pocket.

With nothing to do but wait for several hours until nightfall, I decided earlier to make Molotov cocktails using all the hard liquor by the bar and the cleaning agents under the sink. I managed to make seven out of the dozens of liquor bottles with a high enough alcohol content—mostly absinthe and Everclear—then mixing those with pure vodka and rubbing alcohol, dish soap, baking soda, and petroleum jelly. Then, I tore pieces of expensive-looking curtains to make the wick and shoved it through the nozzle. Peter and I had two each, while Logan, Alfie, Miguel, and Yousef carried one. I put the bottles in my backpack, ensuring the cork was secured so it didn't spill inside while I was moving.

I made sure to cover my arms with a leather jacket and a long sleeve shirt. I also asked everyone not to wear anything that would expose their skin, and wearing shorts was forbidden. We raided some of the lower apartments to find clothes, especially pants, that could fit everyone. Paloma, Monica, and Marie had difficulty choosing one since most of the clothes found in the nearby (and one I deemed safe) apartments were a little loose from their petite and slender frame.

"Everyone! Make sure you wear the right shoes!" I heard Miguels shouting from the living room. "Apartment 1213 has a nice collection in there for the ladies, and as for the men, I think Apartment 1219 and 1222 have a few in their closet. Make sure it's running shoes, okay? Not sandals. Not flats. Not loafers. And definitely not crocs."

I looked down at the hiking boots that I've worn a long time. They seemed to do just fine. I turned to Logan and saw him poking a hole through the soles of his shoes.

He looked up at me. "How the fuck did I have a hole on my shoe?"

"I told you not to wear chucks. You never noticed?" I asked.

"Um, Bren, I was kind of busy not dying."

"Oh, jeez. Sassy much?"

"Sorry. I'm just a little nervous. I hate hospitals, and I've never been down in the sewers before."

"You and me both, so this will be our first time."

"Yeah, I need new shoes. I'm not wading through shit with a hole on my shoe. I'm gonna go to 1222 before the others get the good ones." And Logan left with the other guys looking for the same thing.

Lastly, I pushed my red hair back (I desperately needed a haircut) and wore a fitted baseball cap. I didn't want my hair to get in the way when I'm running or fighting.

We all congregated down to the garage below the building, where we parked the RV, not wasting any time to get inside even though it was a tight fit. Murray drove behind the wheel while I sat on the passenger seat next to him.

When the garage shutters lifted open, it was as if we entered a whole different world. The penthouse was a slice of normality in an island of chaos, pristine and clean with luxury, and the bar helped out on that to drown a tiny bit of our worries. But down here, where a car burned in front of a bookstore, where bodies lay strewn on the sidewalk, where two women ran away from a vector chasing after them, where an old man sat on top of his bodega shop, giving us the middle finger as we drove past...we were back to the nightmare.

We passed by a burning tank almost halfway through a bank, a few car crashes, and desperate survivors trying to get a ride. On another block, from the opposite intersection, soldiers on top of a CRA blockade protecting what was left of the safe zones inside downtown shot at three vectors trying to scale the walls. Luckily, they didn't bother to send out a patrol to chase after us, too busy protecting the civilians from joining the horde. At the center of downtown, multi-level floors from towering buildings were burning, some with helicopters dangling by the side, others had blood splatters all over the windows.

"Does it remind you of something?" Logan whispered to me.

I nodded. "New York." And those were the memories I hated to revisit, the desperation of the people trapped inside the quarantine zone, waiting to die, or waiting for absolution.

Once we arrived at S. Front Street, the road that faced the Susquehanna river, the survivors we encountered came to a trickle. Watching through the windows, the river was a black void that stood as a barrier between us and safety. On the other side of the river, lights flooded every corner of the riverfront, military tents and pavilions guarding the banks for anyone who dared swim across. I did not doubt that snipers were perched on those riverside buildings with night vision scopes, diligently scanning the dark waters under a moonless night.

Where the lights had touched the water, I could see the current roaring menacingly. Last night, it had been a downpour, and I could only imagine how strong that current was if we accidentally fell on it. I thought of myself as a good swimmer, but I shuddered just thinking about drowning in those pitch-black depths.

And then there it was.

Pinnacle Health Center: Harrisburg.

Five-foot-high barriers surrounded the building's perimeter, but I spotted the tents and abandoned military vehicles over the top. Wrangled bodies through the barbed wires hung dead on the barricades, which I assumed were vectors. Most of the windows looked intact, and there was still power coming from the property. I'm not sure if the city's electrical grid remained operational or the generators must be juicing up the emergency lights. Either way, it would help us navigate the maze-like halls of the hospital.

Murray parked the RV in front of the four-story parking garage across the hospital, both buildings via a still intact glass bridge suspended over the street.

"Why are we stopping here?" I asked.

"You're gonna have to climb the parking garage to level three and cross the glass bridge. The entrances on the ground floor are all barricaded, but the doors on the third level have been busted long ago when the marines...took care of all the infected patients and staff inside. There shouldn't be infected in there unless they came through the same door up on the bridge or found another way in. Isaacs will lead you down to the sewers."

"And there might be some medicine left inside," Aria said.

"Ah, don't bother. We cleaned out the building a long time ago after we took care of the infestation. We were supposed to get it back to being operational, but people above my pay grade decided to spend the resources we had left on the hospital across the river, which is safer, so a lot of the supplies here ended up there."

"Looks creepy," Logan murmured.

"Alright, everyone. Let's get started, shall we?" I said. "It's a big building, and it's easier to get lost, so make sure we stay close and follow Isaacs."

We climbed out of the RV. I gently touched the snowplow, saying goodbye to the vehicle until we meet again on the other side. A little sentimental, I know, but the rig protected us through some rough passage, and she was still holding out like an MVP. Haskell built a beautiful machine, and I missed him already.

"Make sure you take good care of her," Peter said. "My friend made this, made sure she protects us from them. So, take good care of her."

"I will. I promise," Murray said, and to my surprise, he sounded genuine.

"I'll see you on the other side," I said to Jun.

Jun gave me a curt no before Murray closed the door and climbed behind the wheel. I watched the RV disappear into the corner, leaving us in the open, dark street. Being back out here gave me the bad case of the shivers.

"Bren. You coming?" Aria called out.

Snapping out of my thoughts, I nodded to Aria and jogged after the others toward the garage.

Out here, silence permeated.

I could distinctly hear the muffled gunshots over the concrete canyon, blocked by the towering skyscrapers. The explosions were muffled, too, sounding so far away, isolating all of us in that parking garage as we quietly climbed up to level three and reached the glass bridge with nothing but our footsteps for company. Sometimes, one of us would stifle a cough or rustle their clothes, but each sound we made increased our paranoia that a vector could pop out of the shadows, sending chills down our spine.

But none came.

"How safe is this bridge again?" Edgar asked, sticking his foot out and tapped the glass floor. It didn't do anything.

"It's safe. Don't worry," Issacs said. "A patrol has gone through here to make sure no one is squatting the area. You'd be surprised how many people we find in odd places."

"And where do those people go?" Marie asked.

"The safe zone. They're going to be processed in case they're not infected, and then they're transferred to the bigger zone across the river."

"We've seen many go through that," Aria said. She was still wary of Isaacs, given they knew each other since the outpost. Though it was obvious that she was avoiding him after Holly's death.

"Mommy, I don't want to go in there," Diana whimpered, pointing at the hospital. Beside her, Wanda stayed close to her sister, holding her hand.

"Hush, now, pumpkin. We have to. It's our only way out to a safe place," Aubrey said.

"And don't worry, grandma and Auntie Charlene are here to protect you," Bernadette said, tussling both Wanda and Diana's hairs.

I made sure everyone had gathered and caught up to us before I asked if they're ready. They all looked at me, waiting expectantly.

Beside Logan's legs, Indy made a little whimper, watching the hospital warily.

I guess I'm going first as always.

Another chill ran down my back.

I took three steps, careful at first, afraid that any heavy step would suddenly break the glass and I'd fall to my death. But when that didn't happen, I took three more. Then, three again. The others followed. They seemed sturdy enough, and I didn't know why I was so paranoid, given that this bridge was built to withstand a lot more weight than what I'm carrying. Ahead was the entrance bathed in darkness except for a lone emergency light illuminating the middle of the hallway.

A scuttle ahead, faint and brief, but I heard it. I gestured for everyone to stop, raised my shotgun, and aimed it at the entryway.

Please don't be a vector.

Two rats scurried out of the shadow and ran straight for me. I slid out of their way, and so did the others, gasping and yelping as the rats ran out toward the garage. Nico, Alfie, Bernadette, Aria, and Russell let out a nervous laugh while Wanda and Diana said, "Ew!"

"Rats," I said to the others, relieved it wasn't something that could tear my face off. "Just stupid rats."

"Make sure we don't get the bubonic plague," Paloma said, and the others giggled.

"Take this seriously, people," Peter hissed. "Be on your guard. Always." Peter then strode toward the entrance, readied his rifle, clearly annoyed by everyone's nonchalant attitude.

I shared a concerned look at Logan before I followed after him.

"Oh, no, Pal! Look!" Marie said, shaking Paloma's arm. She pointed down the floor.

I looked down and saw three vectors wandering the street, hunting. Luckily, none of them looked up, or else they would have had us, standing there like floating happy meals. I was hoping the dimly lit street was enough to mask our outline. They're fascinating to look from above, walking aimlessly, waiting for the next stimulus that would whip them out into a vicious frenzy.

I turned my attention to the others. "Get inside! Make sure not to run," I said, waving at them to move. My voice snapped them out from their fixation below and started walking toward the entrance where Peter and Isaacs were waiting.

"Vectors?" Peter asked once I reached him.

"Below the street, but they didn't notice us," I told him.

Peter nodded. "I saw blood on the floor over there. Still fresh."

Fuck. "You think..."

"There might be