The Only Sound in the Group

Approximately 120 men, women, and children of various ages and races stood in a column in the street outside. The group was ringed by Citizen Guardsmen from the Teaneck Brigade, 51st NJ Infantry Brigade. Smaller groups of people mingled with the main body as they came out of neighboring residences.

Jenna carried her rucksack over the yard and entered the now-crowded, peaceful residential street. The populace appeared terrified and hopeless. Breathing heavily, a slender Black man held a laptop to his chest. A young pair put their hands together in consolation. The only sound in the group was the lament of a child over an abandoned puppy.

The commanding officer yelled, "All right." "Let's leave. To the Armory.

With their guns lowered, the soldiers marched slightly apart from the citizens as the group shuffled through the streets of Teaneck. Despite their best efforts to appear determined, they were just as uncertain as the people they were protecting.

Jenna fell into step, following the tired footsteps of the company as they traveled down avenues lined with trees toward the town's commercial core, where small businesses were either boarded up or watched over by owners with shotguns.

Corporal Gordy stated, "We're here," in a weary voice.

Standing tall amid a vast expanse, the Teaneck Armory loomed ahead. A hundred yards between the structure and the pavement was a well-kept lawn, interspersed with the rusted hulks of WWII tanks, and surrounded by suburban streets and houses.

The Armory contained a large auditorium that could accommodate hundreds of people in sleeping bags and functioned as a dormitory for the Teaneck Brigade. Past it was a training field and parking lot where recruits were prepared to join the Guard and platoons practiced.

As the troops led the civilians to the main door, Gordy informed Jenna, "We'll be out on the bridge tonight." The Upper East Side and Harlem have both reported seeing zombies. The bridge needs to be defended by a unit.

"Good luck," Jenna said clumsily.

"I have previously guarded the bridge." Gordy spoke quietly. "As a Guardsman, it's part of my job, but I never thought I'd be protecting against something—a real, physical threat."

"You'll be alright," Jenna said, smiling. "I appreciate you persuading me to attend."

"Thanks," Gordy said with a small laugh. "You mean Jenna? I'll attempt to—

"Unit!" was a scathing order from an officer. "This platoon will immediately cross over to the George Washington Bridge to join the detachments at Fort Dix! Report to the transport jeeps in the parking lot for the time being, 1st Platoon, but follow instructions there.

"I'll see you later!" Sweat trickled down Gordy's face as he called in the chilly September evening. Jenna and the other Teaneck residents who had been saved filed into the Armory as the military separated from the civilian stream.

They saw the two WWII tanks—relics that had fought Hitler and contributed to a victory in a war—as they passed the entryway. Some believed that things might not be as bad as they seemed. Here, they hoped, they would be safe.

As he slipped in and out of consciousness, Tobey Colins said, "Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me." Screams and crackling gunfire came from the streets below.

"I was lost once, but I'm found now," he whispered, mustering the courage to open one eyelid. "I used to be blind, but now... but now."

He snarled and widened his eyes, saying, "I see."

He experienced an excruciating headache beyond any he had ever experienced as a result of the sensory overload that overtook his brain. With a scream, Tobey twisted onto his stomach and jerked like a marionette on the floor. He hit the hardwood with his nose and let out a low grunt.

"My soul was relieved by grace, and it was grace that taught my heart to fear."

His head ached as he vomited on the ground. Dazed, tired, and weak, yet alive.

"The moment I first believed seems so precious now."

With his eyes still closed, Tobey grabbed his armchair and pulled himself upright. The desire for the half-full needle of heroin vanished as he sunk into its comfortable embrace. He peeled his eyelids apart tentatively, slowly taking in the world.

"When we are 10 thousand years old and as radiant as the sun...

Tobey stood up, feeling more resilient. His left hand was scarred from severe bite wounds, and his neck and chest were ripped apart. "He lived," he thought, "so it could be worse." Though his mind was numb and his senses were muted, he had absorbed the virus rather than succumbing to it. Now he was a Variant C, the most fortunate of all potential outcomes. Neither a ravenous predator nor a mindless husk, he was still able to think. Humanity persisted, corrupted by an inborn desire for meat.

He decided to get out of his apartment and head down to the streets. The benefits of the virus became apparent: he felt ecstatic, invincible, and high—much better than the medicine that had almost killed him.

"We have just as many days to praise God as when we started."
"What company are you?" Speaking to the recently arrived troops' captain, General Rylan made a demand.

"Sir, Bravo Company, Teaneck Brigade, sir!" Captain Farrington answered.

As a seasoned veteran of both the Iraq and Vietnam conflicts, Rylan was presented with a mission unlike any other. He was capturing innocent people with the ruthless Variants and zombies while securing New York City, the center of the globe.

It would be an understatement to say that the world economy had crashed. Italy, France, and England were among the crippled nations that were reduced to fragmented local authority by and for the infected. The dollar was worthless; zombies from the East Village had taken over the Battery and the Financial District, and the New York Stock Exchange had collapsed, both literally and symbolically.

"All right, Bravo Company," Rylan replied. "You are on a unique mission. My tanks were moved to close off the Harlem River in the Bronx by superiors, although I had been waiting for the 4th NY Armored Brigade from Buffalo. New Jersey, the Pearl River and Patchogue Brigades, and you are all I have.

"What will we be doing?" With caution, Farrington inquired.

"You're crossing the George Washington Bridge," mentioned Rylan. "Go to Times Square by walking around Central Park's west side. Our forward force is you. The 2nd Brigade, 11th Infantry will help secure uptown if they can descend from Fort Drum in time.

"Thank you, sir. Being given an order like that is an honor.

Rylan yelled, "All right, you heard me—move out," "You have your orders."
Magnificent in the fall evening, the George Washington Bridge towered above Washington Heights and the Palisades. Bravo Company marched over the Hudson with M-16s locked and loaded under a clear moon. They looked south and saw midtown on fire, the air pierced by the distant cracks of gunfire from zombie-fighters and looters.

The call was "Corporal Gordy," said Captain Farrington. Gordy hurried to his side up the column.

Farrington declared, "We'll take Broadway down the Upper East Side to Seventh Avenue." "Assume all civilians are infected."

Gordy retorted, "There are millions of New Yorkers here," "They can't all be infected."

"Heard that? Can you smell it? Farrington answered. Screams mixed with gunfire, and the sky burned crimson with fire and smoke, as though heaven was leaking. The streets were eerily empty, and the smell of plastic and burnt flesh hung over them.

Farrington clarified, "Eight hundred thousand infected, at least," "Three hundred thousand killed, perhaps. We can't take any chances, but we don't know for sure. Even if we have to destroy the entire city, Manhattan is where this stops. "All right, Gordy?"

"Yes, sir."

Peering along the lengthy stretch of Broadway, the company crossed the bridge. Reluctant civilians, many of whom were uninfected, escaped the island's mayhem. They were trapped because barriers prevented them from escaping to New Jersey or the Bronx.

"What are we up against, sir?" Gordy inquired. "Just enforcing the lockdown, or…"

With grim admission, "I don't know, Corporal," Farrington said. "I just don't know."