The Survivor Chronicles: The Risen
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

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