So much hunger.

For the past week, the undead feasted, unchallengingly upon the living, growing their numbers and swelling their ranks to terrifying levels.

So much noise.

Driven by the cries, the yells of their next victims, of gunshots and carhorns, the undead shamboled on, at first they were alone, and as their ranks grew, the herds they traveled in grew, driven towards the sounds n the bridges, towards the jammed up traffic, towards their unsuspecting meals.

So much hunger.

The non-group of survivors, piled into the sedan, had passed what once was a nice quiet corner of New York, Robert F Wagner Jr Park was now a gory, blood splattered war zone of a place as death feast on the living until nothing remained.

A group of the things had been following the car from behind, but another, larger group had heard it coming, and slowly shamboled in it's direction, gathering followers with every awkward step.

At Broadway, the car had to turn, due to a collision and another collection of feasting flesh eaters, one of which was once a paramedic, now ironically killing the driver instead of save him.

As the car passed Liberty street, the occupants were getting desperate, as every street going towards the Brooklyn Bridge was blocked, and more ghouls were gathering en mass. They could not turn back if they wanted to. The image of the bridge weaving in and out of building view was like God laughing in their faces.

Then finally they saw it.

The car had stopped at Vesey street and Park Row, a park covering a square block, but it wasn't salvation that the survivors were witness to,

T'was a stampede of death, coming down Vesey and what was soon to be the highway. They were cornered, and their only choice was to run...