Eve

Chapter 36 (Part 1)

I make way into the city through small, dark roads, all the way past a bridge to what I hope to God is Manhattan. Little Bitch (I named my bike, deal with it) dies on me a few minutes into the island, on one of those narrow dark streets filled with sandwich joints and bars. It coughs and stops working. I feel bad about leaving it behind, like I'm abandoning a fateful dog, but what are you going to do?

It's walking time, now. Or, to better put it, it's limping time.

I drag myself past the rumble and darkness of the street. Over there, right in front of me, walled by two abandoned buildings by the corner, a glimpse of 7th avenue. I keep limping, following the 'TAS – TEMPORARY ARMY SHELTER' handwritten signs that started showing up a while back, when I first drove into the city.

Slow and steady, I reach the corner and turn into 7th.

Hole shet.

Times Square is a view like you wouldn't believe.

Not as in 'pretty', mind you. More in the sense that it looks like someone put the whole block inside a bag filled with hungry pumas, shook it for about forty minutes, set it on fire then released it back to the city.

Every giant led screen is crushed and silent like a dead monster. The buildings that towered high into the sky six months ago are broken and gray and missing pieces. There's an actual building collapsed in the middle of the street, blocking the passage in front of me where that TKTS hut used to stand. I see one or two shadows moving swiftly through the darkness over the rumble – too small to be human, but big enough to be... say, hyenas? Porcupines? Mountain lions?

Whatever they are, I don't wanna find out. I spot another TAS arrow sign, point the opposite way of the collapsed building. I turn and start walking.

I drag my feet past more destruction. Here and there I hear rumble and scraping noises and dripping water noises and other things you never want to hear on a deserted street. Struggling every second against the hole in my stomach, the tiredness and the general feeling that stupid Levon is not worth this, I drag my way. I keep going.

I keep going for Levon. Stupid, stupid Levon.

I keep going because I don't want to end up like Damian.

Another sign reads E 38th St, and I drag myself past it and down the road. And then it starts raining, because fuck this zombie-girl right here.

Soaking wet, I spot yet another sign down the street, just above a building entrance.

TEMPORARY ARMY SHELTER.

But no arrow. Under it, in a smaller print:

Present Yourself for Infection Scan Immediately Upon Arrival.

I look up at the building the sign is fronting. It's large and grayish, ten stories tall and at least twenty windows wide, most of them broken. There's graffiti all over the front entrance, and a foul smell of rotten meat coming from the inside. Forcing myself to focus, I pull my gaze down at the sign again, then at the door bellow it. I push it open.