Story 297: Bridge of the Fallen

The dawn was a pale gray, cloaked in mist that curled through the crumbled remains of the once-bustling city. Damien Rook tightened the straps on his gear, his machete and shotgun secure as he turned to Clara. Her sharp eyes swept the horizon, sniper rifle slung across her back. The silence between them spoke volumes, a quiet acknowledgment of the dangers ahead.

Their target was the Riverway Bridge—a rusted behemoth that connected the ruins to the outskirts of the Zombie King’s domain. If they could take control of it, they’d cut off one of the King’s main supply lines and gain a critical foothold for the final assault.

“We’re burning daylight,” Damien said, his voice low.

Clara nodded, her hand briefly brushing his arm as she passed. It was an unspoken gesture, one of solidarity and quiet concern. For all her toughness, Damien saw the weight she carried—like him, she had lost everything.