"We're blind down here," Hex said one morning. He gestured to the blacked-out windows of the apartment. They had supplies to last a few weeks, fuel for the generator, and a defensible position. But it was a bubble, a tiny island of perceived safety in a sea of unknowns, and they both knew it. "We have no idea what's happening beyond a ten-block radius. We're reacting to threats, not anticipating them. We need to see the bigger picture."
He unfolded a city map on the floor, the paper worn and creased from repeated use. "There's a radio tower on a hill at the edge of the city. Parker's Ridge. From there, we should be able to see most of New Havenburg. It's the highest point for miles."
Quinn studied the map. The route was long, taking them through the heart of the downtown area. It would be their most dangerous journey yet. But Hex was right. They were living moment to moment, fighting a war without any intelligence.
"We go at dawn," Quinn said. "We travel light and fast."
The journey to Parker's Ridge was a descent into a deeper level of hell. The further they moved from their small, fortified zone around the apartment building, the more desolate the city became. The downtown core was a maze of crashed vehicles and shattered glass. The infected were more numerous here, their bodies piling up in the streets where the fighting had been thickest in the first few days. The air was heavy with the smell of decay and smoke.
Quinn kept Lily close, sometimes carrying her on his back to move faster. He had fashioned a small mask for her out of a t-shirt to help with the smell. He tried to shield her eyes from the worst of the horrors, from the bodies contorted in their final moments of agony, but it was impossible to hide everything.
They moved through the city like ghosts, using alleys and building corridors to avoid the open streets. Hex, with his knowledge of the city's layout, navigated, while Quinn, with his new fire axe, handled any threats that got too close. His movements were efficient and brutal, wasting no energy. He was no longer just a survivor; he was a predator in this new, savage ecosystem.
It took them most of the day, a grueling, nerve-shredding trek. Finally, they left the dense urban streets behind and began the steep climb up Parker's Ridge. The air grew cleaner, the sounds of the city fading below them.
When they reached the top, they stood in silence.
The view was apocalyptic.
From their vantage point, the entire city of New Havenburg was laid out before them. Dozens of fires burned unchecked, sending thick plumes of black smoke into the sky, which mingled with the gray overcast to create a permanent, suffocating twilight over the city. They could see the highways leading out of the city. They were choked with a solid, unmoving line of abandoned cars stretching for miles. There were no flashing lights, no signs of military presence, no organized resistance. There was only chaos and decay.
Hex raised a pair of binoculars to his eyes, his hands steady. He scanned the cityscape slowly, methodically.
"There," he said, his voice flat. He passed the binoculars to Quinn. "The 5th precinct. Look."
Quinn looked. The police station was a ruin. Its windows were blown out, and several patrol cars were overturned and burning in its parking lot. Even from this distance, he could see a swarm of infected moving over the building, a dark, shifting mass.
Hex pointed to another location. "That was the National Guard staging area, at the old armory. They didn't even last the first day."
Quinn scanned the horizon, moving the binoculars from one landmark to another. It was the same story everywhere. Hospitals were dark. Bridges were blocked with wreckage. Checkpoints were overrun, the sandbagged positions now just part of the landscape of debris. He could see large, dark masses moving slowly through the streets in the distance—hordes of infected, thousands strong, moving with a single, mindless purpose.
Lily, who had been sitting quietly on a rock, tugged on the sleeve of Quinn's jacket. He looked down at her. Her small face was filled with a child's simple, devastating question.
"Quinn," she asked, her voice small. "Is the whole world like this?"
He looked out at the burning city, at the evidence of a civilization erased in a matter of days. He thought of Hex's radio, of the wall of static that had replaced the voices of the world. He wanted to lie to her. He wanted to tell her that this was just here, that somewhere else, everything was okay. But he could not. The lie felt too heavy, too hollow.
He knelt down in front of her. "I don't know, Lily," he said honestly, his voice rough. "I really don't know."
The sight from the ridge was a crushing blow. It solidified the truth they had both suspected but had not wanted to face. This was not a localized disaster. It was not a quarantine zone they could wait out. The city was lost. Their entire world, as they knew it, was lost.
They sat on the ridge as dusk began to fall, the three of them, watching the city burn. The scale of it was almost too much to comprehend.
"So, what's the plan, Marine?" Hex asked, breaking the long silence.
Quinn stared out at the dying city. Hex was right. Staying in the apartment building was a slow death. They could survive for a few weeks, maybe a month, but eventually, their supplies would run out, or a large enough horde would be drawn to their location. It was a temporary solution in a permanent disaster.
"We need a long-term plan," Quinn said, his mind racing. "A real one. We can't stay here."
"Agreed," Hex said. "But where do we go? Every road out is a death trap."
"Not every road," Quinn said, an idea beginning to form. He remembered the garbled emergency broadcasts from the first day. Avoid populated areas. He thought of the vast, empty forests and state parks that lay to the north of the city. Places with low population density. Places where the virus would have had less fuel to burn.
"We need to get out of the city," Quinn continued, his voice hardening with a new resolve. "Not just out of our neighborhood. We need to get clear of the whole damn metropolitan area. Find somewhere defensible. Somewhere sustainable. A place where we can stop running and start living."
It was a monumental task, almost impossible. It meant crossing a city of millions of infected, navigating blocked highways, and venturing into an unknown wilderness. But as he looked at the city in flames, he knew it was their only option. The alternative was to sit here and wait to die.
And Quinn was done waiting. He was done reacting. It was time to take control of their own fate.