Ethan trudged along the cracked road, the shovel's handle digging into his shoulder as he carried the duffel packed with water and cans. Mia matched his pace, axe tucked into her belt, her boots scuffing the asphalt. Riley and Vance led the merged groups—thirty survivors strong—machete and pipe swinging at their sides, their crews hauling bags and weapons: spears, bats, a sledgehammer hefted by the burly man. The red-streaked sky hung heavy, casting a dull glow over the terrain—twisted trees and abandoned cars lining the path west from the strip mall.
[Predator Sense] hummed, picking up faint howls north, a slither south, but nothing immediate. The air carried a damp chill, tinged with rust and the faint rot of standing water. The road curved ahead, dipping toward a river—a narrow span crossed by a concrete bridge, its railings crumbled, steel rebar jutting like broken bones. Riley stopped at the edge, raising her machete to halt the group. "That's our crossing," she said, pointing to the bridge. "Tracks are on the other side."
Vance stepped up, pipe tapping the ground. "Looks shaky. Weight's a problem."
Ethan set the duffel down, scanning the structure. [Perception] caught the details: cracks spidering across the concrete, a gaping hole near the far end where the river lapped through, water swirling dark and fast below. The bridge spanned fifty feet, wide enough for two cars once, now barely holding. "One at a time," he said, gripping the shovel. "Lightest first."
Riley nodded, waving Pete forward. "Go. Test it."
Pete clutched his spear, stepping onto the bridge, his boots crunching on loose gravel. The concrete groaned, dust trickling into the water, but held. He crossed slow, reaching the far side, and waved back. "Solid enough," he called, voice carrying over the river's rush.
Mia grabbed her axe, stepping up. "Me next," she said, leaving the duffel with Ethan. She moved steady, axe in hand, the bridge creaking under her weight. Halfway across, a chunk of railing broke free, splashing into the river, but she kept going, joining Pete without a stumble.
Cal uncoiled the rope from his shoulder, tying it to a bent rebar at the near end. "For the heavy stuff," he said, tossing the other end to Pete, who secured it across. He crossed next, crowbar tucked into his jeans, the rope taut as he pulled himself along.
Tara followed, bat slung over her back, gripping the rope with one hand. "Don't collapse," she muttered, stepping over the hole, reaching the far side with a grunt. The burly man went after, sledgehammer dragging, the bridge shuddering as he hauled his sack of cans. A crack widened under his boots, but he made it, dropping the load with a thud.
Ethan tied the duffel to the rope, signaling Pete to pull. The bag slid across, scraping the concrete, and Mia untied it on the other side. Riley crossed next, machete sheathed, her steps quick and sure. Vance followed, pipe in hand, the bridge groaning louder, a slab shifting near the hole.
"Faster," Ethan said, waving the rest on. Survivors shuffled across—spears, tire irons, bags of bandages—each step testing the span. The last few cleared it, leaving Ethan alone on the near side. He grabbed the shovel, starting across, the rope rough against his palm.
A rumble shook the ground—not the bridge, but the river. [Predator Sense] flared—scales, a surge of water, rising fast. The surface broke, a crocodile bursting up, jaws snapping, its tail thrashing the current. It lunged, claws raking the bridge's edge, concrete crumbling under its weight. Ethan leapt, [Agility] carrying him over the hole as the span buckled, the near half collapsing into the river.
He landed hard on the far side, shovel clanging, the rope snapping free. The crocodile roared, stuck below, its claws gouging the debris. Riley raised her machete, but Ethan waved her off. "It's trapped," he said, catching his breath. "We're clear."
Vance kicked a loose stone into the water, pipe resting on his shoulder. "Lucky break."
Cal coiled the remaining rope, crowbar ready. "Tracks are that way," he said, nodding west to a line of rusted rails cutting through the trees.
Riley gestured the group forward. "Move. No stopping."
Ethan shouldered the duffel, shovel in hand, falling in with Mia. The bridge's remains sank behind them, the crocodile's growls fading, the tracks promising a path ahead.
[Objective completed: Cross the breached bridge]
[Attributes Gained: +1 Perception]
[Rewards Gained: None]