Carrion (The Bren Watts Diaries #1)

Chapter 44

We saw the bodies first, floating on the surface, carried by the slow river current. They looked like they died recently. As we cruised three more miles inland, we realized where the bodies were coming from ahead.

The military also shot down Governor Mario M. Cuomo Bridge, a 3-mile span of collapsed trusses, cables, suspenders, and pavement slabs, all the way to its anchorage. It was still burning when we arrived, which meant that it was recent, and from the looks of it, only an hour or so ago. Dozens of vehicles were halfway submerged close to shore, and I reckoned most of them probably had people trapped inside. Both towns the bridge was connected to were on fire.

By the roadways, hundreds of vehicles were abandoned as far back inland until I couldn't see the end of it. I glanced at the map and found that we were getting closer to the town of Sleepy Hollow.

We were not alone in the water.

I counted at least nine other boats on the river, and I surmised they must be coming from the burned-down marina that we passed earlier. Some were as small as a kayak, and some were inflatables, a few were dinghies, while a couple was as big as ours. One motorboat, which spanned fifteen feet, had many people shivering on its small deck.

Up the cliffs, I saw people standing on the edge, staring at the destroyed bridge; their one chance of escape severed. Some of them were families, others had their belongings packed, ready to move, and I reckoned it must be because of the evacuation notice this morning, broadcasted throughout the region.

"Bren! You need to get down here!" Miguel hollered from the cockpit.

I looked over the railing from the flybridge and saw that a man on a 2-person orange kayak was waving at us with both his arms and then paddled closer toward the stern.

"Stop the boat, Logan," I said. Logan immediately lowered the speed to a crawl.

I leaped down onto the cockpit and then dropped to the swim platform.

"Morning, sir!" The kayaker greeted with a wide smile.

"Stop paddling," I said, showing him my shotgun.

"Whoa! Whoa! Easy there, sir!"

He was in his early twenties, sporting a full thick blond beard, wearing a neon-green reflective life-jacket and a NY Giants baseball cap. Over to the empty second seat were a bloodied hatchet, a baseball bat spiked with nails, and his backpack.

The man looked down on my NYPD vest, and his eyes widened. "You a police officer?"

I looked at his blood-drenched jacket and baseball cap. "Are you bitten?"

"No, sir! But I was here when those fighter jets came flying around and blew many people out of that bridge! Can you believe that? We're under attack by North Koreans!"

"The vectors are here, too?"

"Um, well, I don't know what those are, but if you're talking about them eaters, then yeah. It happened last night, ripped poor Bethany to death in front of me! We were supposed to take her kayak, see? Now, she's gone."

"Wait, last night?"

"Yeah, sir. I was almost in bed when the evacuation call came up on TV, and then people just started screaming. I heard people said it came from the city, but the government said they have them locked down tight." He looked at the bridge. "I think not anymore."

"I thought the nearby areas were evacuated a long time ago."

"Them army lot who watched our town said to stay indoors, closed down schools and work and stores. I know nothing about any evacuation. They abandoned us before those eaters started tearing my friends apart."