Aljun's voice broke through the water.
"We did it!"
He was crying when he said it. "We fucking did it."
No one cheered.
The bay pulled at them from the side, cold and strong. It did not move like a river, but it dragged anyway, steady and mean, catching their boots, bags, and tired legs. The opposite bank looked close until Iyisha tried to swim for it and felt the water shove her sideways.
"Keep together!" Arnulf shouted from ahead. "Angle left! Don't fight it straight!"
They pushed farther from the shore.
The Long Island bank slipped behind them. The tank stood there like a pale broken statue, watching from the mud and concrete. Walkers kept falling into the water near its feet, vanishing, surfacing, then sinking again. The horde crowded the bank behind it, but the bay held them back.
For a few minutes, there was only water.
Cold water. Hard breathing. Splashes. Choking.
Then they reached the middle.
That was where everything got worse.
