March 24th, 10:06 AM
Collapsed Bridge, Southern District
John Wang POV
——
The wheels rumbled to a stop.
"Here's as far as we go," Jiang Roulan said over the radio, her voice calm, even though her knuckles were white on the wheel. She pointed ahead where the road just… dropped. One half of the old bridge had collapsed into the riverbed, a jagged mess of rusted beams and concrete slabs. Just beyond that wreck, I saw it.
A train depot.
Big. Cracked. Haunted.
Dozens of train cars sat scattered around the yard, half of them toppled over or scorched. Some hung off the edge like toy models after a tantrum. Metal gates dangled open, twisted by time and chaos. The buildings nearby were wrecked convenience stores, warehouses with graffiti, and the husk of a supermarket missing most of its roof.
I opened the door and stepped out into the cold morning air. The scent of wet iron and damp asphalt hit first. Then came something worse. Something rotten.
