Best Pickles in Bergen County

As Mike Benko and Jenna Gray walked through the empty suburban streets toward the Hackensack River bridge—the last bastion of civilization in North Jersey—the air stung with the chill of late September.

In his National Guard uniform, Mike moved softly as he hefted an M14 rifle. Under her jacket, Jenna kept a long knife hidden. The only sound to break the calm was the faint smell of wood and burned flesh coming from the armory.

Mike said in a monotone voice, "The armory is under attack."

Jenna gave a nod. With the last remnants of human habitation behind them, they pressed along Cedar Lane. There were no obstinate survivors living in these destroyed houses, surrounded by shotguns in the basements. They were the last remaining humans in the region.

"I used to live here," Jenna whispered to Mike. "It has changed."

He answered, "I'm from Burlington, Vermont." It was really lovely, but we've come a long way since then. Even though they used to be like us, at least I've only killed zombies.

Jenna pointed to a wilted structure with faded pickle cutouts on it and said, "Over there." "PickleDelight." Five or six years ago, it opened. Their claim was, "Best pickles in Bergen County."

Knowing that little of the abandoned building would survive as the war progressed, they passed it. The pandemonium of total conflict and mortars destroyed the townhouses and forested roads along Palisades Ridge, causing them to burn. The National Guard engaged in gunfire and bayonet exchanges with zombies tearing through the suburbs in the Overpeck River valley, which includes Ridgefield Park, Teaneck, and Englewood.

"Everything was so lovely."

The final battalions of the 4th New York Armored Brigade retreated in confusion through the streets of a once-thriving urban enclave along McLean Avenue in south Yonkers. Many members of the Fighting 70th Regiment were familiar with the neighborhood, which is predominantly Irish. They are currently fighting zombies outside Rory's Pub.

Zombies, their front ranks unarmed, mere fodder, launched suicidal waves from apartments and ice cream shops across the street. The mud-stained captain, a veteran of Fallujah, gave the order, "Take the armored cars and clear that sector ahead." "Get the apartments SAWs!"

Zombies were split in two, their heads and limbs removed, while SAW machine guns boomed and blasted pieces from the brick façades. The unit held while armored cars, armed with mounted weapons and equipped with rifles and explosives, rolled through streets that were punctured by Variant C bullets.

"They're making progress! There is no hope!

"Go back!" The captain yelled. "We will be present at Westchester!"

Jenna recalled, "We used to get together on campus in the spring, sitting on the grass and throwing Frisbees." Every time someone brought a dog, the professors would become upset and try to eject it. The air was heavy with flowers as springtime brought dancing, laughter, friendship, and love. For luck, we would search for the season's first cardinal or bee. On warm days, we can enjoy being outside and feeling happy and lively.

Tobey quickly clamped his mouth over the gash to catch every drop as he drove sharpened nails into a young man's throat. His senses were overwhelmed by the sweet-salty flow as he drank deeply from the carotid. The man thrashed for a moment, then sank, unconscious, as dizziness took over.

Like creamy cream, Tobey's blood ran down his throat. He dropped his depleted victim and squatted like a beast, his face contorted with hatred and wrath. With a yell of victory, he surveyed his reign of violence and ruin.

Variant C zombies moved grimly and precisely through the crowd. Under the cruel former office worker Marcia Thorpen, they routinely killed or infected refugees.

Humans flinched against walls, helpless as more powerful zombies ate and mutilated them. The living watched as the dead fell like lambs, only to be killed by sword or bare hands a few moments later.

Those who were indicated for infection were in worse shape. Father Robson was in charge of the torture procedure, in which Varant Cs captured civilians and subjected them to painful slashes or bites. On blood-stained floors, victims writhed, their bodies rejecting the virus in the midst of agony, rising as zombies bathed in ichor and pee. They were revived after a protracted period of suffering and vomiting, with Variant As degraded to soulless, drooling husks and Variant Cs keeping their faculties.

As they got closer to Hackensack Bridge, Jenna let out a sigh. "The summer was the best time of the year. We worked even though school was out. I worked as a cashier at a liquor store; it was good to get paid. We would go to the municipal pool with pals after work to relax by the water.

She continued. We would go to Tom's River, which has boardwalks, beaches, and relatives. It was very vibrant last summer. Only a few weeks ago? Relaxed days, delightful evenings filled with fireflies and freedom, enjoying a warm drink on the veranda during a light rain, with sandals hanging down while jet lights flickered above Newark Airport.

Secretary of Defense Steve Marquet's voice tightened as he continued, "Mr. President, the zombies have breached all fronts." Secretary of State Anna DuPont and Vice President Ross Effing assembled the war cabinet in Hackensack. The leaders of the free world saw everything fall apart in one of the richest nations in America.

"What is the situation?" Derring started to say something, but was interrupted by Vice President Ross Effing.

“Zombies have taken over Long Island. The National Guard is retreating from Yonkers into Westchester, White Plains, and Tarrytown as the Bronx is overrun, according to Marquet. New Jersey's Guard is in Bergen County with the 11th and 29th Divisions, although Teaneck Armory has been overrun by Variant Cs. We presume that everyone inside is either dead or transformed—thousands.

Derring said, "No."

“General Jon Blunton arrives from North Carolina with the 83rd Airborne for a drop into Levittown, Long Island, this evening,” Marquet added. But even in the Meadowlands, undead proliferate like wildfire. Although there is little chance of life, refugees battle alongside the 643rd Air Support Battalion in Giants Stadium and Continental Arena.

"What are we up against?" Knuckles whitened on his chair, Effing asked.

His throat was cleansed by Marquet. The Palisades and Meadowlands are dominated by zombies, who will soon breach our defenses and invade New Jersey and Pennsylvania. From Yonkers, variant Cs will spread westward to New England and up the Hudson Valley to Upstate New York. It's pandemonium, Mr. Vice President—it's complete war.

Effing sagged, then stood up. He sighed and closed his eyes, saying simply, "We'll ready the nuclear arsenal." "Fuck."

Derring said nothing.

From Upstate New York, the Hackensack River meandered through Bergen County, babbling beneath the bridge, unconscious to the devastation that was swallowing up its home. Ahead, Mike and Jenna saw machine gunners crouched behind shrubs and armored trucks.

"Assist!" Mike gave a call. "We're not zombies! Come, let's enter the light! "I'll go first," he whispered to Jenna.

He came out with his hands up, moving gently, the moonlight bathing him. "Mike Benko, Vermont 87th." stranded with a civilian away from my unit. I am not a zombie.

An officer answered, "118th Cavalry—approach with the civilian, slowly." Fearing that they might discover Mike's Variant C ploy, Jenna joined him, her heart racing.

"My favorite season was autumn," she remarked. Wet, gloomy, and depressing—but I loved it. There would be crunching leaves as I strolled around the town. There was a lot of rain, and the smell of ozone and damp leaves was the sweetest I'd ever experienced. My pets and I cuddled in bed as the thunder cracked. I would sit peacefully on the porch while listening to the rain pattering on the grass.

Hours after Mike and Jenna's departure, Tobey and Von Dornen wandered the suburbs of Teaneck. The earth was blessed by the first light of dawn. Grey-haired and gloomy, von Dornen stepped forward, shouldering his rifle.

"Where will we go next, Lord? "River Edge or Hackensack?" he inquired.

"Hackensack is their center of power," Tobey stated bluntly. "They have nowhere to go if you break them there. Next, we consider the Saddle River Valley and Paterson.

They continued. Black metal armored zombies with weapons and bent swords followed behind. There was a green mist in the morning that was touched by dew.

They confronted the rugged banks of the Hackensack River as they entered the plain. There were no soldiers on the far bank, and the gloomy Hackensack Courthouse loomed in the distance.

Von Dornen remarked, "You know, Tobey, we'll eventually exhaust the humans."

"I understand."

We Variants too perish when the last falls. It is our destiny.

"I understand," Tobey said. "I've realized that we must all perish. While it lasts, we'll enjoy what we can. We will die, and we must die.

He eyed his next victory while standing on the riverbank. The carnage will be enormous as his entire army descended here.

He proclaimed, "I command every zombie in New Jersey and New York." "Lord of millions, if I so choose, I control the destiny of every person within two hundred miles."

He had won.

"Everything was frozen over the winter," Jenna thought. You were frozen solid for two minutes outside. On nicer days, we would play in the snow, sledding down Overpeck hills, throwing snowballs, burying one another, and giggling at each other's happiness. We would also skate at Hackensack Ice Rink.

Family traveled from California and Ireland for Christmas. On Christmas Eve, we would gather by the tree in the living room to open presents. Dogs splayed around us, happy in the tranquility of the earth.

Everything was black and blank when it snowed. I would feel like the only person on Earth when I stepped into a whirling maelstrom. The seclusion was breathtaking—as though a heavenly God was grinning down on them, a part of something bigger.

A 19-year-old soldier collapsed with a bent blade in his back on McLean Avenue in Yonkers. His zombie killer immediately killed him by cutting his throat with pointed claws before feasting on his flesh.

"The fact that it will never be like that again saddens me."

On Thursday, September 25, before dark, zombies raced through Upstate New York like lightning. By noon, Variant Cs had taken over Hartford and Tarrytown, Connecticut; Rochester and Poughkeepsie, three; and the strongholds of Rhode Island and Connecticut, four. Tobey's ranks were enlarged by millions.

Soldiers, police, and civilians in Boston, the last big metropolis, prepared for a last stand. Key figures were evacuated by plane to South Dakota and Indiana, but there were sightings of Variant C all throughout the country.

Albany gave way by dusk. That night, vicious, quick, and unstoppable zombies crossed the St. Lawrence into Canada. The perimeter of Boston held, but there was no human resistance left from the Hudson to Maine.

In the midst of this collapse, Mike and Jenna booked a bed at a boarding house in Hackensack with the intention of finding a car and escaping to Pennsylvania at first light.

General Tom Rylan of the 43rd Division informed President Derring's cabinet that NORTHCOM had been moved from Troy because of the zombie overrun. The warriors of Hackensack braced themselves for a final battle. Arriving in Newark from North Carolina, the 83rd Airborne was prepared for a disastrous drop into Connecticut.

"How would people react if I quit?" In a private chamber in Hackensack Courthouse, Derring asked Effing.

“All right, Jack,” Effing said. "I'll get by. Go to the safe haven beneath the mountains in Colorado. Bomb these idiots till North Vietnam resembles a puddle, then I'll stay.

Derring looked at Effing's holstered pistol and moaned, "I can't, Ross."

"Jack, I've got it under control."