An Empty Bridge

The road here had crumbled like all the other roads, as time and vegetation slowly did their thing. What surprised me was the bridge being so intact. Other than dirt and leaves in a few places it looked just like it had before the Fall. Below it the river’s dark waters flowed past. For some reason bridges either lasted really well or collapsed quickly. I could see the remains of four other bridges from this one. This one being clear of debris suggested people took care of it or that no one had been around for a long time. I hoped for the latter. I needed to cross.
As I walked across the bridge towards the city on the other side I watched for sign of people still about. I had tried watching from the brush for over an hour but saw nothing. Not far out onto the bridge I noted that I was leaving tracks behind me and mine were the only ones there. The only bridge over this river for miles and it was not getting any use. No wonder I’d not seen anyone in weeks. The whole area was likely without people, except me now.
Once across, the road was crumbled again as were the buildings. Many falling over or down already. There were no cars that I could see. This had to be one of the few cities that got evacuated. If that had been the case than a lot of things got left behind. With refugees all heading south in those early days, northern cities tend to be good pickings. Fewer people up here scavenging for supplies. With a little luck I could stay the winter here.

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