For a wasteland, New York was surprisingly intact.
Other than Lady Liberty being sliced in half, half the buildings gutted or shattered, and the giant robots prowling the streets.
The man who was leading the refugees, an old fellow by the name of Lionel, crawled up next to him. They were on a hill about two miles out from the city, with their camp about a mile back. Behind them, some of the more able-bodied refugees were waiting, holding shotguns or hunting rifles.
"They got New York, too."
Robert looked over at him. "You're surprised? It's the largest city on the continent. I'm surprised they didn't nuke it."
"Not really surprised, but it's not good news." Lionel had a way of being a little depressed. Not that depression was all that rare around here, antidepressants were selling at an all-time high and the situation wasn't conducive to good mental health. Quite a few had already cracked.
"I know the feeling, Lionel. We're gonna have to make a raid into New York. We need food, guns, and bullets. There also might be some intact cars in the city we can take. If we have to run, we're not going to be able to wait for the guys on hover-rounds."
"What about gas?"
"It's the end of the world, Lionel. Everything is on sale, including gas."
The old man chuckled, then broke into a loud, hacking cough, choking up mucus. Robert brought his legs underneath him and helped Lionel up.
"Yeah, and while I'm at it, I'm gonna find a pharmacy or hospital and get some meds for that cough. Besides, the rest of the group probably could use it."
Lionel cleared his throat and nodded. "The cough isn't as bad as it looks, but you're right about the rest of the group." Robert gave him a quizzical look, but shrugged, then let out a sharp whistle. "Ed, John, you're with me. We're hitting the Big Apple."