The four soldiers were making good time, weapons at the ready as they bobbed and weaved through crarshed cars and breached barricades, studiously ignoring the decaying remains of the unlucky littering the streets.  There were few Infected to be seen on the route they were taking, a matter of sheer luck more then knowledge.<br/><br/>They never seemed to tire, maintaining the same pace and awkward seeming half-crouch postures, moving with the silent coordination that only came from years of experience as a team.  Cover and move, ten meter spacing between men, following the same path and watching everywhere.  Without the rain, they could see farther and hear clearer, allowing them at least a hint of comfort to be moving through the vehicle crowded main streets.<br/><br/>Dozens of stories could be told, hundreds, of what life had been like during the Outbreak.  Cars half loaded with luggage, abandoned outside apartment complexes and town houses.  Half finished barricades made of anything at hand, places where people had refused to leave.  The charred remains in burnt out cars and buses, or the blood and gore spattered windows where those inside hadn't been so lucky to burn to death.  If that could be thought of as a better way to go.<br/><br/>They stopped once in that first hour, long enough for the Sergeant to try and fail to do a radio check; at street level, with tall buildings crowding in on all sides, there was no chance of getting a clear signal out, and after a few minutes they were moving again, studiously ignoring a pair of Infected no less then twenty meters off, wandering aimlessly amongst the ruins of an Army checkpoint picked clean by survivors over the past year.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>A band of ten survivors, armed with rifles and shotguns, bats and even a sword, snaked their way across the Broolyn Bridge's catwalks under the street, once meant for maintenance personal to inspect the bridge.  They too were making good timing; they knew the area around their hideout well, and knew how to avoid the Infected that wandered that area.  But, it was rare they ventured this far, and never without good reason.<br/><br/>This, of course, was a good one.  Enough that there were more volunteers then voluntolds.  They all carried large hiking packs, mostly empty save for some basic supplies each.  They could see Pier One from the catwalks, and after some arguement two of them stopped there armed with a pair of binos and a salvaged M24.  Perhaps not the best in the world, but it was serviceable and they had plenty of ammo for it.  Those two remained posted on the bridge's catwalks overlooking Pier One on the near side of the bridge.<br/><br/>The remaining eight kept moving, eventually passing through the sealed gate that had barred it off from vagabonds and hoodlums before the Infection, and now kept them clear of Infected.  The group had long since broken the old locks and replaced them with ones they had keys for.  They were almost at Pier One, and knowing that there was at least one other person there already, the eight were careful about it, quietly putting down the few Infected they came across with a bow one carried.