Chapter 47 The Great Bridge

At the border between Georgia and Florida lies a wide river, about a kilometer across, known as the Missy River. A grand bridge, spanning the river’s breadth, towers majestically over the rushing waters.

The bridge has two levels: the upper for outgoing traffic, the lower for incoming. At its end stands an advanced lift system, but the side nearing Georgia is already blocked by obstacles.

Li Changsheng brought the silver Mazda Daryl had prepared for him to a halt, gazing first at the raised bridge, then into the distance beyond. Traffic was at a standstill. Vehicles, scattered in all directions, clogged both levels of the bridge tightly. In many places, the upper roadway was fractured, bearing witness to explosions of significant force.

From the side, one could see a mass of shamblers crowding the bridge—grotesque forms of all kinds. Still, the upper level hosted fewer of these creatures.

It seemed impossible to get through by car. He couldn’t pilot a boat, either. His only choice was to cross on foot.

With this in mind, Li Changsheng parked the Mazda in an inconspicuous corner and quietly stowed it away in his mysterious space. He retrieved a backpack and a firefighter’s axe for close combat, slinging both behind him, and tucked a handgun into his waistband as well. As for the Gatling gun, it was simply too large and heavy—he’d only bring it out if absolutely necessary.

All this was to keep his mysterious space hidden. Now, he looked every bit the seasoned survivor in a post-apocalyptic world.

Since this end of the bridge was blocked, there were no vehicles or shamblers on the road. Li Changsheng walked slowly to the underside of the bridge, stretched his limbs, then bent his knees and exploded upward with power. Like a nimble cat, he spun through the air.

He reached out, caught a protruding stone pillar atop the barricade, and with a pull, flipped his body to land firmly on the upper deck.

The shamblers on the bridge seemed to sense the scent of a living human. They let out guttural snarls and turned their gaze upon Li Changsheng.

Food!

A gift from the heavens!

A dozen or so shamblers, like sharks scenting blood, rushed toward him with the speed of sprinters.

What the hell?

Texan shamblers?

Though shocked, Li Changsheng remained perfectly composed. He focused on the nearest one and swung the firefighter’s axe with precision.

The hiss of the axe slicing through air was jarringly sharp in the silence.

With a heavy thud, the axe blade struck a shambler’s skull, severing it cleanly. Black blood spurted out as the creature collapsed. The others surged forward undeterred, but Li Changsheng didn’t hesitate—he spun, brandishing the axe in a blur of light, cutting down the rest.

Soon, the last shambler fell, motionless. Silence once more descended.

Wiping the gore from his axe on a fallen shambler, Li Changsheng looked to the distance, pondering how many more “Texan” shamblers might be lurking behind the wrecked vehicles.

Damn it! Why are the shamblers here so fierce? He cursed inwardly, his brows furrowing.

Firing a gun was out of the question—it would be like kicking a hornet’s nest. He shivered at the thought of the entire bridge’s horde converging on him.

Yet, to turn back now? He couldn’t bring himself to give up. With things so dangerous here, the so-called Rex Institute had brazenly set up an evacuation point—there had to be a conspiracy involved.

And these shamblers were unnaturally fast—dozens of times quicker than the shambling corpses from those old movies. If the barricade was removed and they escaped...

Even though it was more than a hundred kilometers from Civilization City, if these things got loose, it would be a disaster for the city’s expansion.

Tch. Never mind, he would advance carefully, clearing the way step by step.

…

While Li Changsheng was busy clearing the bridge, several kilometers away on the other side, four people were fleeing for their lives through a narrow alley.

Had Li Changsheng been there, he would have recognized them instantly—the quartet from Left 4 Survival.

“I think once we reach the island, we should find a house with a good vantage point, you know, so we can spot passing boats. What do you think?” Louis, dressed in a suit and red tie, said between gasps as he ran.

“Good idea. We’ll also need a big pit—for burning any infected we find on the island,” Bill replied, clad in military gear and gunning down shamblers with his M16 as he spoke.

Louis patted his bald head. “Damn, I forgot about that. Guess we’ll need a smaller island then.”

Bill chuckled. “Not too small, though. But let’s change the subject—we need to find a boat first, then talk about what supplies we’ll need.”

The two kept up a lively conversation as they shot their way forward, with Zoey and Francis following close behind.

Watching the pair, Zoey said to Francis, “Have you ever seen those two this happy before?”

“There was one time—when Louis taught Bill how to make homemade bombs,” Francis replied, hesitating before adding, “And… you and Bill, are you still…?”

It was a strange question, but Zoey understood at once.

Back when they escaped the military research facility, Bill had started the train, picking up Zoey and the others but leaving behind a military doctor. Zoey hadn’t been able to accept that. She believed Bill should have waited a little longer.

Shaking her head, she vaulted onto a car and fired at several shamblers to her left. “Am I mad at him? Yeah, a little, but I’m not sure. Everything happened so fast. We’ve been through so much. I always thought of you all as family. I mean, I like Bill—I respect him, but I don’t think I really know him.”

“Alright, I’ll tell him that, though he probably won’t listen. He’s old, he’s got a grizzled beard, he—”

Zoey cut him off before he could finish. “And now you’re going to say ‘but,’ right, Francis?”

“Exactly. Wait! Smoker! Watch the tongue!” Francis shouted, firing his weapon.

They had encountered many special infected since the disaster, but most times had managed to pull through.

This time was no exception.

Bang bang bang.

Bullets shattered the Smoker’s head, its body collapsing in a cloud of acrid smoke.

“Reloading!” Francis called out, then turned to Zoey. “Listen, remember that group I mentioned—the ones I hung around with before meeting you three? Drinking buddies. Trust me, if I’d stayed with them, I’d have been dead a month ago.

“What I’m saying is, Bill might make mistakes, but there’s always a good reason behind what he does.”

Zoey was moved, her expression softening. She was about to reply when Louis shouted, “Hey, guys, come here! I think I found our escape boat!”

“Oh, Louis, you’re kidding!” Zoey didn’t believe him at first, but as she caught up, she saw it—a small yacht moored just upriver from the bridge. Her eyes lit up. “This is amazing!”

After months of hardship, the four survivors had dreamed of nothing more than leaving by boat for a safe, secluded island.

Louis scrambled aboard first. The others followed quickly.

But before all three could climb up, Louis’s terrified voice rang out from the boat, “Something’s got my leg! Oh, damn! Shit! Witches—a whole group of witches!”