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From the banks of Chelsea, the sight of the Tobin Bridge, a symbol of connectivity and human ingenuity. The bridge, once a bustling artery of life, stood eerily silent, save for sporadic gunfire that echoed across the water. Its elegant arches bore signs of the recent combat; smoke rising from charred sections, rubble scattered across its length, and bullet holes marring its once pristine surface.
Flashes of light sparked sporadically, evidence of ongoing skirmishes between the remaining military forces and the undead. The sound of gunfire was distant but stark against the silent cityscape, each crack a chilling reminder of the struggle for survival that had become their reality.
Every so often, a stray bullet would strike the metal structure of the bridge, sending a ringing echo that reverberated over the water. The battle for the bridge seemed distant and yet alarmingly close, a surreal display of resilience against the odds.
Despite the evidence of destruction, the bridge still stood, its arches reaching towards the heavens like a symbol of defiance against the onslaught. It was a poignant reminder of humanity’s resilience, their refusal to surrender even in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds.
Looking at the battle-torn Tobin Bridge, Lisa and Tom felt a mix of fear and awe. The bridge was a testament to the old world, standing strong amidst the new reality they found themselves in. It was a beacon of hope, a promise that humanity could rebuild, no matter the odds. As they turned their attention towards the headquarters tent, the distant sound of gunfire resonated in their ears, serving as a stark reminder of the task that lay ahead.
Like actors on a gruelling overnight shoot, Lisa and Tom were beaten into submission by the relentless gunfire and desperate cries that echoed around their makeshift encampment in Chelsea. Despite the chaos, exhaustion granted them the mercy of sleep.
Awakening around noon, Lisa found herself caught off guard by an unfamiliar sense of safety. As she sat up, her fingers massaged her temples as she tried to reconcile the jarring contrast between her inner peace and the external chaos. She murmured to herself, “This is not a warzone,” yet found herself admitting to the stark reality aloud, “It is… this is war.”
The tent flaps rustled and Tom appeared, his face a mingling of relief and weariness. “Lisa, good, you’re up. The C.O wants to see us when you’re ready.”
Her eyes flickered over his unkempt appearance, a mirror of her own disheveled state. A smirk tugged at her lips as she quipped, “You look as bad as I feel.” Pushing the remnants of sleep aside, she stood, her movements punctuated by her next words, “Showers are for peacetime, I suppose,” she muttered, standing up, “Let’s go, Tom.”
He chuckled, shaking his head as he followed her out of the tent, “You’ve got that war correspondent vibe going, O’Connor.”
Their journey to the HQ was an easy one, the base setup was all too familiar to Lisa. They stopped in front of two guards whose pristine uniforms seemed untouched by the chaos that unfolded around them. Lisa couldn’t help but crack a wry smile as she observed them, “You’d think we were at a military parade and not the end of the world.”
Tom nudged her with his elbow, suppressing a grin, “Some people take ‘dress for the job you want’ very seriously.”
Ignoring Tom’s jest, Lisa addressed the guards with a composed voice, “Lisa O’Connor. We’ve been requested to see the C.O.” Tom added his own introduction, “Tom Reynolds, same,” his eyes twinkling with amusement at their situation.
The guard nodded, “One minute. We’ll inform the C.O.” As he disappeared into the tent, Lisa and Tom shared a glance, bracing themselves for whatever came next. Their reality was evolving, and they were adapting with it, one witty remark at a time.
The soldier returned after a few minutes, pulling the tarp of the tent aside. “Ms. O’Conner, Mr. Reynolds. Enter. The Commanding Officer will see you now.”
Tom exchanged a quick glance with Lisa before they stepped into the tent. Inside stood a man who looked every bit the part of a military officer – his uniform impeccable, the silver eagle on his shoulders signifying his rank. Colonel. He turned to face them, his brown eyes bore into theirs with an intensity that was slightly disconcerting.
“I am Colonel Nathaniel Callahan,” he introduced himself, his voice deep and resonant. “I commend your resilience and resourcefulness during these challenging times. Your live reports have been instrumental in helping us mount a successful rescue operation.”
He paused, walked over to the communication console, then continued. “As public figures, you play a crucial role in delivering information and hope to the people of Boston. We are setting up a broadcasting tent for you as we speak. Once we have the chance, we’ll relocate you to Hanscom Air Force Base in Bedford, where you’ll have proper facilities to broadcast from. Are you following?”
Lisa, who had been silently processing everything the Colonel had said, finally responded, “Yes, we’re following. Can you give us an update on the current situation? Also, we have a team that has been working with us – we’d like to keep them involved, if possible.”
A small smile tugged at the corners of Colonel Callahan’s mouth. “Of course. We understand the importance of teamwork in these times. Let’s get you updated, then you can get to work.”
Lisa acknowledged the Colonel with a crisp nod before turning to Tom. “Go gather the crew, Tom. Let’s get everyone prepped at the broadcasting tent,” she said. Tom nodded, his expression resolute, and headed off to rally their team.
“Whom do I get the current situation details from, Colonel?” Lisa asked, her eyes refocusing on the commanding officer.
The Colonel, a fan of her quick action and succinct manner, signaled a nearby officer. “Give Ms. O’Connor full access to our intel. See to it.” With a brisk salute, the officer led Lisa out of the tent.
Once Lisa and Tom had exited, the Colonel’s courteous facade vanished, replaced with the steely countenance of a battle-hardened leader. “Sitrep, now,” he barked. “What are the drones showing?”
A young officer manning the drone controls responded crisply, “Boston is a no-go zone, sir. No survivor activity detected.”
Unfazed, the Colonel pressed on, “Current status of the outskirts and potential evac routes. Talk to me.”
Reports flooded in from the officers stationed around the room. Tobin Bridge choked with Z’s, a substantial horde progressing into Cambridge, Dorchester compromised, South Boston under siege. The updates were grim, but the Colonel remained unwavering.
“Alford Street Bridge… wasn’t there a distress signal from that vicinity?” he asked, turning to another officer.
“Affirmative, sir,” an officer confirmed. “Reports suggest a group of survivors holding up in Encore Casino. Satellite feed shows effective barricades and a contained number of infected.”
Taking a moment, the Colonel absorbed the information. The fight was far from over, but they had actionable intelligence. It was a start.
“Confirm status of Alford Street Bridge, stat,” the Colonel commanded, his gaze fixed intently on the digital map spread across the table. “If there’s a way to get to that casino, I want it mapped out.”
“Copy, sir,” a drone pilot responded, her hands already moving across the controls. “Drone is en route to Alford Street Bridge.”
The room fell into a tense silence as they waited for the drone feed. Screens flickered as the live feed from the drone began to materialize. Images of wreckage and ruin filled the screens as the drone flew over the once-busy streets.
“Visuals coming in, sir,” the drone pilot announced. “Alford Street Bridge is heavily damaged. No clear paths for ground vehicles.”
“Z activity?”
“Scanning, sir… minimal Z activity on the bridge itself. Unclear about the surrounding area,” she responded, adjusting the drone’s camera to get a better view.
“What about evac routes from the casino? Any possibilities?”
“Sir, there’s a potential route via Mystic River. Waterways appear clear at this point. The casino itself seems fortified, sir. Limited Z activity in the immediate vicinity.”
“Good. Make note of that route. We may have to deploy an aquatic rescue operation. Keep me updated on Z movement in that sector. Any survivor activity?”
“Negative, sir,” the pilot reported, the drone’s camera zooming in on the barricaded casino. “But signs of life are evident. Barricades seem recently fortified.”
The Colonel nodded, “Keep that drone in the air. I want constant surveillance of that area. Alert me immediately of any significant changes.”
“Roger that, Colonel. Drone is maintaining position for continued surveillance.”
His orders given, Colonel Callahan straightened, his gaze hard as he studied the live drone feed. Every piece of intel, every shift in Z activity, would determine his next move. This war was far from over, and he intended to fight it until the end.
“Next, assess traffic conditions on Route 16, East from Everett towards Chelsea,” commanded the Colonel, eyes not leaving the screen displaying the live feed.
“Affirmative, sir. Redirecting drone to Rutherford Ave,” replied the drone pilot, her fingers nimbly guiding the drone across the digital map.
The drone’s camera switched views, providing a bird’s eye sight of the road. Abandoned cars filled the lanes, creating an eerie graveyard of metal and glass. Z’s wandered aimlessly between the vehicles, their slow, shuffling movements oddly incongruent with the urgency in the tent.
“Sir, Route 16 towards Chelsea is clogged. Vehicles abandoned en masse. Z count appears moderate but increasing,” the pilot reported, zooming in to get a clearer look at the scene.
“Is there any viable detour, soldier?” the Colonel asked, his stern gaze focused on the screen.
“Negative, sir. Side streets are equally congested, sir. It would be a foot operation, and risky given the Z presence.”
“Understood,” the Colonel sighed, rubbing his temples as he processed the information. “Ensure constant monitoring of that area. Any significant changes, you report directly.”
“Copy that, Colonel. Maintaining surveillance on Route 16,” she affirmed.
It was an unsettling sight, a sobering reminder of the city’s rapid fall. The Colonel steeled himself, returning his focus to the task at hand. Every bit of information was a piece of a larger puzzle, a puzzle that would hopefully lead them to a semblance of control in this chaos.
