them. Riley didn't think Nancy would do it, but she wasn't going to take any chances either. Riley discreetly kept her gun sitting in her lap when she settled into the passenger seat. "What's the cat's name?" Nancy asked as she sat beside the dozing feline. "I don't know," Riley answered. "We found her in a farm house a little while ago, but we haven't named her yet." "Hmm." Nancy lifted the cat from the backseat and settled it in her lap. The loud purring the cat emanated filled the car as Xander started it. Nancy actually began to smile while she scratched the cat's ears. "What about Spooky? I had a cat named Spooky once who looked just like this." Xander released a harsh bark of laughter. "I think that suits. She spooked the crap out of us the first time we encountered her." "I like it," Riley agreed. She couldn't help but smile as she turned to look at the mountains. Bobby may be gone, but maybe they had just saved someone else's life.
CHAPTER 4 Carl, Carl climbed out of the truck and stretched his back as he surveyed the bridge before them. Al had prepared them for the length of it, but even still he couldn't shake the crushing sense of doom creeping down his spine. The bridge had an end, of that much he was certain, but he couldn't see it. He didn't know if that was from the angle of the bridge or if it was simply too far away to see the end. His gaze drifted down to the immense river below the bridge, the mighty Hudson. He didn't know much about this area of New York. He didn't know much about New York at all, other than he hated their sports teams and they had good bagels, but he recalled this river from his history classes over the years, and the plane that had recently landed on it near the city. It looked relatively calm right now but the river was swollen with water. Maybe the torrential downpours they had experienced over the past few weeks had flooded the river, or the quakes had caused a new river or lake to flow into this one. Either way, the water buried the roots of the trees along the banks. A swing set in one of the backyards lining the river was halfway under water and the back stairs of another porch were swamped. He eyed the multiple, massive concrete posts holding the bridge up with trepidation. All the posts were still standing but there was no way to know what kind of damage they'd sustained from the quakes and flooding. His gaze lifted to the flat bridge before him. Hamilton Fish Newburgh-Beacon Bridge was written on a sign at the foot of the bridge. There were lights hanging over the road from posts, but none of them were on, but then he hadn't expected them to be either. A sign announcing that the right lane was closed was also nearby. His eyes narrowed on the right lane as another chill slid down his back. Why had it been closed down even before everything had fallen apart ? He wondered as he studied the orange barrels, forgotten construction equipment in the right lane, and the roadway that was full of potholes and cracks. He glanced at the other bridge running parallel, and apparently identical, to the one they were parked in front of. Tollbooths were set up on the other side but Al had said there were no tolls at the other end of this bridge. They could cross over on the other bridge, but looking between the two of them, Carl couldn't see any structural difference in them. "How long is this thing?" Peter demanded. "At least a mile," Al answered tiredly. Donald released a low whistle; he shook his head and moved closer to the bridge. John stepped forward; he stopped at the very edge of where the bridge started. "We've already had one bad experience with a bridge," John said. "Do we really want to try crossing this one too?" "I'd rather have a colonoscopy without the drugs than do this, but I don't think we have any other choice," Carl answered honestly. John gave him a double look before releasing a low chuckle. "Well it's a good thing we don't actually have