Project 2115

Chapter 19: The Colonel Callahan

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."