“I’ve been here also, though I don’t remember much. I was ten or so, and it looked way different,” Tye said.
Milly considered asking Tester why he’d been here, but the old soldier had shared little about his past, and she didn’t think he’d start now, but she cast out a line anyway. “You have family buried here, Tester?”
“My father and grandfather,” Tester said. “World War II and Korea.” That was the most he’d told Milly about his family in all the years she’d known him.
They broke free of the forest and the Potomac River rushed by before them. Pepper waited for them, panting. The bridge was upriver half a mile, and they headed toward it, walking single file along the remnants of the pathway that ran beside the river. Wilderness had reclaimed the land to the river’s edge, but they found the two large stone pillars with eagles atop them that marked the entrance to Arlington Memorial Bridge. Kudzu and dead vegetation hung from the brick bridge, which looked to be collapsing in several spots, but appeared passable with a little climbing.
“The winters up here are much harsher as you can tell by the deterioration of everything, even the stone,” Tye said. “Back in Mexico, all these stone structures would be in much better shape.”
The air was still, cold, and the sky dirty-white.
“What day is it, Tester?” Milly said.
“December 19th. A Thursday,” he said.
“Ozzie’s map shows a clear path to the turtle. Once we’re across the Potomac to the mall, we’ll continue east to 7th. The map shows two 7th streets, one marked NW and one NE. We’ll explore northwest since it’s closest and...” Milly said.
Ingo interrupted her. “It’s northeast. There’s a street sign now, an intersection.”
“That’s convenient,” Robin said. “All of sudden it comes to you?”
“The more information I have about a place the more detailed the images become. Having the map focused things, and when we got here things pieced together like a puzzle,” Ingo said.
Robin didn’t look convinced. Milly was beginning to understand why people who weren’t reborn got frustrated with people like Ingo, Hansa and Ozzie. Nobody likes another poking into their business, and what could be worse than having someone read your mind? Or see your future? Someone who always told you the better way to do something, or drew conclusions based on random thoughts you couldn’t control?
The bridge was fractured and overgrown with foliage, much of which was brown and dying from the increasingly harsh frosts as winter descended on the northeast. They stayed clear of obvious weak areas where bricks had crumbled or fallen away, and the company spread out, keeping weight in any single area to a minimum. Rusted metal lampposts wrapped in kudzu and stone balustrades marked the edges of the bridge. Before them the back of the brown and green covered Lincoln Memorial stood on the horizon, and like a broken pencil the Washington Memorial stood off to the right, its metal top broken.
Milly felt exposed on the bridge, even though they stayed out of sight in the tall plants and had Pepper scouting before them. They were halfway across the river when a horn bellowed in the distance. “That doesn’t sound good,” Milly said. She was on point, pushing through the overgrowth and around rusty piles of metal and plastic that had once been automobiles.
“Could have nothing to do with us. It sounded far off,” Tye said.
“Still, lock and load,” Tester said.
Milly checked her Glock, and pulled her knife. She tightened the straps on her pack and tied a rag across her face. Her friends did likewise, and they crept across the bridge. A flock of birds cruised overhead, squawking and hooting, and Milly thought of Larry. Ozzie had said he’d found the turtle, so she assumed he’d be waiting for them, but she knew assumptions made an ass out of you and me.
At the end of the bridge, green tarnished bronze statues sat atop pillars of stone, and the Lincoln Memorial loomed before them. Vines and dead foliage covered the marble Greek columns, and the lawn surrounding the building had been replaced with trees and underbrush. It took the party an hour to find their way through the young woods to the front of the memorial. Virals scuttled amongst the bushes with the deer, but they appeared timid and hesitant.
The climb up the great steps left Milly winded, but as she looked upon the huge broken statue of the old one called Lincoln, she couldn’t help but be inspired. To the east, the cracked dome of the capital building, and the remains of the Washington Monument rose above the blanket of green that covered Washington, DC. The reflection pool was a swamp, and it had overflowed leaving parts of the National Mall and surrounding areas submerged. The still water reflected Washington’s failing obelisk on its murky surface. The other monuments were nothing more than mounds of green and brown, their majestic beauty retaken by the land.
“Everything’s ruined,” Tye said. “When I came here as I boy, I remember thinking how strong this place looked, made of rock, and how it would always be here. In a few more generations all this will be piles of tumbled stones.”
More virals watched and followed the party as the day wore on, and at noon they stood at an intersection with the capital to the east and the White House to the north. Milly studied both with the binoculars. The White House had mostly collapsed, the old wooden sections rotting away leaving a concrete and metal skeleton. The capital building had fared somewhat better, though half the dome had fallen in and many of the marble slabs had broken free
