Kiss On The Bridge

by Mark Stewart

  AFTER A perfect landing on the beach, Anneli and Wade climbed out from under the hang-glider. Boats were dumped on top of other boats. All, were expensive toys for the rich millionaires who came to Darwin for a warm Christmas. Cars had been thrown through the air by the strength of the wind. Some were parked haphazardly, either on their roofs or stacked three high against building walls. Glass fragments, bricks, and the odd half-a-house littered the sand. Wooden pylons were the only thing remaining of the jetty. Debris littered the surface of the water. The buildings butting up against the sand were nothing more than rubble. Wherever Wade and Anneli looked the scene appeared to be the same.

  Wade and Anneli walked around Charlotte studying every square inch of the hull.

  “The yacht seems to have come through the cyclone healthier than most of the other seagoing vessels,” stated Anneli.

  “Yes, Charlotte seems fine,” replied Wade. “From this angle, she doesn’t appear to have any holes.”

  “We won’t know how the port side is till she’s upright in the water. The whole side is buried under the sand,” blurted Anneli, pointing. “It might have been ripped away when the cyclone dumped her high out of the water.”

  “I’ll go take a look inside,” said Wade.

  Walking along the deck proved difficult. Charlotte lay on her side at a sixty-degree angle. He leaned against the deck and walked along the cross beam to get to the storm shutter. Reaching down Wade easily opened the trap door. He scurried down the stairwell by sliding down the edge of the steps on his stomach. Wade commando crawled along the entire wall looking for any cracks in the hull. He detected none. On the way, out, he spied the fridge door. By some miracle, it remained closed. He slid over, swiping four small bottles off the middle shelf. Two were water, and two were pink champagne. He grabbed a few bananas from out of the small cupboard. Dropping the lot into a small plastic bag, he slid back out the way he came.

  After unscrewing the lid of a water bottle, Anneli drank the entire contents in one breath. “Now this is a memorable Christmas lunch.” She hurriedly peeled the outer layer of a banana and bit it in half. Pink champagne helped to wash it down.

  Wade chuckled at her comical look.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “You don’t strike me to be a rich man’s daughter.”

  “I am and don’t you forget it,” she warned, wagging her finger under his nose. “Mind you the exact second my father hears about all this he’ll be hopping mad. At the very least he’ll know I’m serious about wanting to choose my destiny. At a guess, he’ll never want to talk to me again.”

  “I never argue with a woman,” blurted Wade seriously.

  “You’re off to a good start for a lasting relationship.”

  Wade and Anneli sat on the sand laughing at the thought. They chuckled at nothing when there wasn’t anything left to laugh at. Staring lustfully into each other’s eyes they sensed love starting to mushroom. Neither Wade nor Anneli wanted to hinder the prospect.

  Wade eventually slapped Anneli gently on the knee. “If we want to set sail for Melbourne, we have plenty of work to do.”

  “How can we even start to think about getting Charlotte back in the water she’s stuck high and dry? We’ll need a crane to lift her.”

  “For everything, there is a solution.”

  “Now there’s philosophical jargon at its best. Tell me Wade Mackenzie have you ever found yourself in a problem you don’t know the answer to?”

  “Once or twice,” he confessed. “I want to believe there’s always a way out of any mess.”

  “I hope I’m not around to see the day when you can’t think up a solution to a problem.”

  Wade climbed back onto the deck of the yacht. He returned holding a shovel. Jumping onto the sand, he walked to the center of the yacht and commenced to dig the sand out from around the keel.

  Anneli joined in. They dug fast. Wade used his hands, Anneli used the shovel. Soon the yacht looked ready to be tilted straight.

  Wade called a halt to the process.

  “Before we go any further we have to turn Charlotte around. When she’s pointing fat the water, it’ll be a simple matter of getting her deep enough to float.”

  “How can we accomplish such a feat?” questioned Anneli. After downing the shovel by driving the metal blade into the sand, she pushed her hands onto her hips. “I don’t think our combined strength will be able to get the yacht to the water let alone move her.”

  “Trust me,” teased Wade, brushing the sand from her shoulders.

  Anneli wore a puzzled expression. “This will be interesting.”

  “There is a small detail I believe should be decided upon,” advised Wade. “You have two options. One, you can go in search of a car tyre. The larger and heavier the better, or two, you can dig a trench all the way to the water.”

  Anneli rolled her eyes. “I’ll go look for a tyre.”

  “If you discover an extra, long, length of rope during your search my shopping list will be complete,” hinted Wade.

  Easily remembering the shopping list, Anneli waltzed off wagging her behind at Wade. She knew he had stopped digging to watch her walk off. She hammed it up by increasing her waddle.

  The love game appeared to be picking up speed.

  Anneli carefully walked about the debris in her search for the tyre. She didn’t have any idea how the item might help float Charlotte, However, she decided to trust Wade’s judgment.

  The air felt stifling due to the rising humidity. Pulling up the tracksuit sleeves Anneli’s face and arms were glistening from sweat. She came across what remained of a small metal structure. It resembled an oversized shed. Half a sign hung vertically over the crushed front door. Strong winds had pushed a half cabin run-a-bout boat into the roller door, smashing it. Anneli looked inside the boat. Soaking wet clothes of varies styles and colours littered the floor.

  “Hello, is anyone onboard?”

  Pulling herself up and over the side, Anneli shimmied along the bottom of the boat to the half cabin. The small closed door guarding the room behind it hung by a single hinge. Stepping up to the door, she squatted.

  “Hello, is anyone in need of assistance?”

  Hearing no reply, she stepped through the gap.

  A low cupboard boasted a neat pile of dry clothes sitting on the only shelf. Anneli lifted a pair of denim shorts to eye-level. Deciding she needed to change her clothes, Anneli discarded the oversized tracksuit, slipping into the shorts. The air inside the half cabin felt like a sauna room, making the transition into the shorts a slow, tedious job. Her long thin legs seemed to stick to the garments. The moment she finished squeezing into the shorts she pulled the end of the black leather belt to the inside hole and clipped the oversized buckle closed. The hem of a pink button up shirt caught her eye when she started to walk back out of the boat. She decided in a heartbeat she needed it.

  Anneli slipped out of the boat the same way she entered then walked towards the oversized tin shed. A closer inspection of the vertical sign made it clear the shed used to be the local garage. Skipping up to the narrow, twisted door, Anneli yanked the metal away. She stepped through the gap and entered the mechanic’s workshop.

  Sunlight streaming in from the broken skylight showed dust hovered in the air over the entire area, making breathing difficult.

  Along the entire length of the tin wall, there were seven cars in various stages of repair. Using her hand to cover her mouth, Anneli walked about the workshop. In the far corner near an old Mercedes sedan, she found what Wade asked her to find. Old tyres on rims filled a long rack. Various lengths of rope expertly wound hung from hooks on one end of the rack. Anneli swiped up what appeared to be a brand new extra-long white rope from a hook, slinging it over her shoulder. She dragged the largest old tyre on a rim from the rack. She deduced it probably came from the truck at the far side of the shed. A long boat had smashed through the window and landed on the bonnet. Walking back to the door, movement cau
ght her eye. She stopped the tyre from rolling. For over thirty seconds she stared at the place where she thought she saw movement.

  “This garage is giving me the creeps,” she whispered. “I must have seen a mouse or a cat.” Before being fully convinced, the object moved again. “It’s not a mouse!” she screamed.

  “Is someone there? Please, I won’t hurt you. I need you to help me. I’m stuck under the front of the truck.”

  Anneli fought the growing fear in her mind and called out in a strong, calm voice. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Eric, the local mechanic. Please, I don’t care what you take, I only need help.”

  “I’m not sure how I can help you.”

  “I need you to come over here to lift the truck up. My leg is pinned.”

  “How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”

  “Please, you have to believe me. I’ve been stuck in this position for over an hour.”

  “You do sound sincere,” called Anneli, not sure of what to make of the whole, ‘please help me, I’m trapped scenario.’”

  “I am sincere.”

  “You might be a good actor?”

  “At the moment, I wish I were. I promise you I’m only the local mechanic. What’s your name? Are you alone?”

  “Yes, I’m alone. My name is Anneli. I also think coming over is not a good idea.”

  “I can understand your plight. At the very least, please go find someone who can help.”

  Anneli quickly weighed her options, deciding Eric, the so-called local mechanic sounded genuine. She placed the length of rope on the floor, leaned the wheel against the wall of the shed and ventured over to the truck, swiping a metal bar the same length as a baseball bat from the floor.

  “Where exactly are you?” she called.

  Eric started to cough from the dust. He raised his hand.

  “I’m at the front of the truck.”

  Anneli skirted around to the back of the truck, looking underneath. Breathing became more difficult the closer her head got to the floor. She could feel dust starting to clog her throat. Anneli inhaled through her cupped hand. She’d been in training for at least twelve months to extend the amount of time she could hold her breath. The diving instructor who taught the class of four suggested it. Anneli vividly remembered the man’s cold baritone voice. His words were embeded into her memory. ‘You never know when it might come in handy. If practicing the art only saves you once in your life it is well worth it.’ Every day she forced her lungs to be fully inflated. Six months of training saw her being able to hold her breath for at least fifty-five seconds. A slow exhale gave her ten more. Anneli gave a school girl grin at being told she was the best in the class.

  “Are you nearly at the front of the truck?” coughed Eric.

  “Yes, I am.” Anneli dropped the metal bar, sprinting over. She knelt in the dust smiling warmly at the trapped man. “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine,” answered the man. “Don’t you worry I’ve no broken bones. My pants are the only part pinned.”

  “How can I help?”

  “I need you to find another car jack so you can lift the front of the truck. I don’t need much room to free myself. Please hurry.”

  Anneli began searching the immediate area. “Why were you working on Christmas day?” she called, lifting the trunk of the closest car.

  “I wasn’t. I left my wife’s present in the office. I dived under the truck when the cyclone hit. My wife will be so worried. Don’t get me wrong; I love her dearly for the emotion. We were going to be in Sydney for Christmas dinner. We were scheduled to fly out at one-forty-five this afternoon. My daughter, who hasn’t talked to me or my wife in over ten years, invited us to stay for a few days. I think any reconciliation between us is gone.”

  Anneli momentarily stopped searching. She walked over, placing her hand on Eric’s shoulder.

  “I’ll do what I can to get you to Sydney. I promise I’ll come back carrying a car Jack.”

  Walking off towards the office, her eyes scoured every piece of debris in the workshop. Spying a large car not far from the truck, Anneli sprinted over. Disappointment surged through her body. The Jack she found had been used to prop up the old Mercedes. The cyclone saw to it the car moved, bringing it down hard on the jack. Anneli needed something to use as a fulcrum and a pivot point. The iron bar she dropped needed to be longer; much longer.

  Anneli resumed her search. Finding a crowbar at least six feet long lying on the floor close to the office door put a smile on her face. Swiping the crowbar off the floor, she sprinted back towards the Mercedes. Close to the car, she found a diff covered in dirt.

  ‘Obviously, it must have been the next job,’ she thought.

  Anneli pushed the diff towards the car and jammed the crowbar under the side of the Mercedes. The old Merc lifted when she used her weight to push down on her end of the bar, freeing the car jack. The only problem, to reach the hydraulic jack, she needed help.

  CHAPTER TWELVE