by Bruno Miller
Suddenly Ben slammed on the brakes, causing the Blazer to screech to a stop. Less than 10 feet in front of the truck, the bridge abruptly ended. They sat in silence for a minute, staring at the mangled and jagged concrete that was all that remained of the structure.
Ben put the Blazer in park and got out. Joel followed, with Allie right behind him.
“Don’t let Gunner out,” Ben called back to them.
“Sorry, boy, stay.” Allie slowly closed the door behind her, trapping Gunner in the truck on the front seat, where he had moved to in anticipation of following them.
They slowly inched to within a couple feet of where the concrete ended. From that perilous point, they looked down.
Joel couldn’t see more than a few feet into the abyss, and it seemed like it could have gone on forever. It was one of the weirdest things he had ever seen as he watched the thick smoke drift under them.
“I wonder what happened. I mean, bridges don’t just collapse,” Joel said.
Ben put his hands on his hips and shook his head as he stood at the guardrail that separated the four lanes. “I don’t know, but both sides are out. I guess I was hoping for too much. We’ll have to head up to Alton after all.”
Joel looked at his dad but could only make out the dull shape of his figure, even though he was less than 20 feet away from where Joel was standing. The smoke was just that thick.
Just then, a breeze kicked up out of nowhere and stirred the smoke into a frenzy, briefly exposing the cause of the bridge’s collapse. Joel turned to Allie and then back to the drop-off, making sure she was seeing what he was seeing. His eyes followed the bent and twisted rebar that cascaded over the edge toward the water.
Hunks of soot-covered metal were tangled up in the structure that led down to what was unmistakably the tail section of an airplane. He began to read the numbers on the tail but lost sight of everything as the wind calmed and the heavy smoke settled back over the wreckage like a blanket.
“Did you see that?” Joel asked.
“What? No.” Allie strained to see over the jagged edge without daring to venture any closer. “What was it?”
“A plane, or at least part of it. That’s what took the bridge out.” The moment he finished speaking, he thought about how this might affect Allie. He was glad she was standing a few feet behind him and hadn’t seen the wreckage. He was sure this would bring to mind her mother and the fate she had most likely suffered.
Ben headed back to the truck. “Let’s get out of here.”
Joel was more than happy to get away from the edge and return to the truck. He wasn’t sure why, but the smoke was bothering him more all of a sudden and he felt like he could almost taste it now. He pulled his shirt over his nose and joined Allie, who was already getting settled into the back seat.
She hadn’t responded to what he said about the plane, and he wondered if she was all right.
Ben sighed as he backed up and got the truck turned around. “I should have known. That would have been too easy. Should have just stuck to the plan.”
Joel thought his dad must have been worried about Allie, too, as he seemed to be expediting their departure. Or maybe he just wanted to get them out the smoke.
Either way, Joel was glad to get away. The whole place had an eerie feel to it, and he couldn’t wait to see the sun again.
“At least it wasn’t too far out of the way.” Joel glanced back at Allie, who had occupied herself with Gunner. She was leaning into him, and her hair covered her face. Joel decided to give her some time and resituated himself forward so he could help his dad navigate.
“Look at the map and see if there’s a quicker way back to 67, will you?” Ben asked.
“Okay.” Joel pulled out the atlas that was already open to their location and found an alternate road quickly.
“The next exit we come to will take us there.” Joel followed the road with his finger on the map as he traced a line all the way to the waterfowl sanctuary between the two bridges outside Alton. “It shouldn’t be too far.”
The exit came up fast and Ben steered the truck north onto it.
A hospital sat on the other side of the highway, where the ramp made a long winding curve down off the interstate. The building was still intact and standing, but the first-floor windows were all shattered and it had that same empty look that all the buildings had now.
It made Joel think about how truly alone they were. There was nowhere to go if they got hurt or had an emergency. Then he thought about the bridge and the plane crash and how that would stay that way for who knew how long. Maybe forever.
No one had come to check for survivors. No one would come to clean up, and no one would come to rebuild the bridge.
It really was just them against the world now.
Chapter Twenty-Four
They continued on the secondary road for a few miles in silence. That was fine with Ben; he needed to concentrate. He was already tired from driving all day, and the smoke was still making it tricky to navigate. The air was improving as they drove away from St. Louis, but it was still far from good.
Allie broke the silence. “It will be nice to get away from this smoke. It’s already a little better.”
Ben was glad to hear from her. He was concerned about how that scene back there had affected her. He wasn’t sure how much she had seen of it. But he saw the airplane and knew it would strike a nerve with her.
He should have had both kids wait in the truck while he checked the other lanes, but it was too late now. Besides, that wouldn’t be the last plane crash they’d see—he was sure of it. He was honestly surprised they hadn’t seen more, especially after he and Joel had witnessed that crash on their hike back that first morning.
Joel breathed in deeply without the shirt over his nose. “It’s definitely getting better.”
“We ought to be at the campsite in half an hour or so. I’m not going to stop for gas. We still have well over half a tank, and I can top it off with the two spare cans on the back when we get there. We can gas up tomorrow,” Ben stated. He didn’t have it in him right now to go through the process of refueling, and they had plenty of gas to keep them going for a while. He was just glad to be driving away from the city.
“Sounds good to me.” Joel nodded.
The mood in the truck seemed to improve along with the quality of the air. Before long, the heaviness of the smoke lifted, and they emerged into the late afternoon sun once again. It was like a whole other world existed beyond that cloud of smoke, which still hung heavily on the horizon behind them.
The small businesses and fast food places gradually turned into residential neighborhoods, and then eventually the houses thinned out into mostly open fields and trees. Ben saw the sign for the first of the two bridges they would need to cross.
Please let the bridges be clear, he thought. The next time he stopped the truck, he wanted it to be where they were going to spend the night.
Along both sides of the road they passed a huge limestone quarry operation that sat on the edge of the river. Ben imagined the place in its glory, with train cars and barges being loaded and shipped out all over the country. It would be a busy place normally.
But now it only served as a reminder of how things had come grinding to a halt, like the heavy equipment scattered around the quarry property and sitting idle and wasting away. Some of them reminded him of tombstones as they sat parked on top of the light gray hills of gravel.
As they approached the bridge, they all leaned forward in their seats, scanning the road ahead through the dusty windshield.
“Looks good from here. Couple cars here and there, but it looks like we can get around them,” Joel said.
“Yeah, it doesn’t look too bad,” Ben added.
The Missouri River was much smaller than the Mississippi where they had tried the other bridge and was only about a quarter of a mile wide here. Ben could see all the way to the other side easily, and it looked clear to cross. He noticed several car
s near the middle of the bridge that looked a little out of place considering the rest of the bridge was clear. They were too organized—almost like someone lined them up along the sides of the road. Fortunately, there was enough room down the center to squeeze by.
“Boy, the water is really brown. Is it always like that?” Joel sounded disappointed.
“I think so. It’s a little different from back home, huh?” Ben replied.
The water here was nothing like the rivers in Colorado. He could tell this river was deeper and ran with purpose. The water moved swiftly as mini whirlpools swirled in and out of existence randomly across the surface. The water was a dark brown, somewhere between chocolate milk and coffee, the opposite of the clear water they were used to in the Rockies.
Ben wondered if the river was even fishable like this or if it would be a waste of time. Maybe they could find calmer waters once they were in the waterfowl sanctuary.
“I don’t know about fishing here, Dad. I wouldn’t even know where to start.” Joel stared blankly out his window.
“You’re reading my mind, but don’t try to hide the fact that you’re happy about not being able to fish so you can talk me into letting you try for some ducks.” Ben chuckled.
“You boys,” Allie joked.
Ben didn’t want to say anything to diminish the mood in the truck. They could all use a little morale boost.
So he didn’t say anything to the kids, but the group of cars at the center of the bridge still had his attention. They were close enough now that he could count six cars. None of them were wrecked or even looked damaged, but they were all newer-model sedans and minivans that wouldn’t have been in running condition because of their computer systems.
He thought it strange, nonetheless, to have six of them like that in the middle of the bridge. He would have crossed over to the southbound lanes of the bridge and given the odd cars a wide berth, but the concrete barrier in the median prevented it. Instead, he was forced to drive between them. He put his hand a little closer to his gun.
Ben half expected someone to jump out from behind them at any moment, but nothing happened and they passed by the cars without incident.
Glad he hadn’t said anything to the kids, he eased his hand away from the center console and the Desert Eagle.
The rest of the bridge, as well as the road beyond, was clear ahead, and Ben picked up speed. The same, however, could not be said for the southbound lanes on the other side.
As they neared the end of the bridge, a truck was jackknifed firmly between the guardrail and the concrete divider, completely blocking both southbound lanes. That was exactly the type of thing he had been worried about.
He was thankful now for the tall concrete divider that stopped the truck and kept their lanes open. They were across this bridge, but they still had one more to cross a few miles ahead at the Mississippi River.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ben didn’t want to get too close to the second bridge tonight. He preferred to camp on the smaller river if possible.
Alton didn’t look like a large town on the map, but it was located directly on the other side of the Mississippi and they would be too close to a populated area for Ben’s liking if they went all the way to the next bridge before stopping.
As badly as he wanted to know if the road was clear ahead, it was time to stop. He took the next right into a heavily wooded area and followed the gravel road back toward the river. The road came to a tee, with one part of it heading back under the bridge and upstream to their right.
They went left and followed the dirt road in the opposite direction downstream. Within a few minutes, the road turned into a trail barely wide enough for the Blazer to slip through. The occasional branch and bush scraped the sides of the truck as they made their way deeper into the woods and away from the road.
They followed the trail until it ended on a small section of wide riverbank that led up to a fairly level grassy area that looked like a great spot to set up camp.
“Looks good to me.” Joel opened the door as soon as Ben put the truck in park and turned it off.
The river went around a bend a couple hundred yards farther down from where they were, and the elevation dropped off into a low-lying marshy area.
“That must be part of the waterfowl area,” Ben noted.
Gunner forced his way out of the truck ahead of Allie and launched himself off the passenger’s seat. He hit the ground running and made a wide circle around the Blazer, sniffing as he went before making a beeline for the water.
Without slowing down, he flew over the sandy bank and crashed into the river, only stopping when he was chest-deep in the muddy water. He stood there panting for a minute before he lapped at the brown water, then waded back to the small sandy beach.
“I don’t think he cares what color the water is,” Allie commented as she climbed down from the truck and joined Ben and Joel at the tailgate, where they were already unloading the gear.
“Well, since Gunner’s already wet, you might as well try to get a few ducks before we lose too much more daylight.” Ben glanced south in the direction of the marsh, then at his son. Joel’s face lit up with excitement. “After you get your tent set up, okay?”
“Yep.” Joel grinned and hastily gathered the remainder of his things from the rooftop cargo box.
Ben had mixed feelings about Joel shooting ducks, but they could use some protein that didn’t come out of a bag for a change. There was nothing like a good meal over a campfire to lift the spirits, and they could use it. They had done well today, even though they hadn’t gotten as far as he would have liked. Despite that, he still considered the day a success.
They had made good time and avoided any real trouble, and that was a win these days.
This was a pretty remote spot, too. Far enough off the road where a few rounds from the shotgun wouldn’t attract any attention.
Plus, they hadn’t seen a soul since they got off the interstate, so this was as good a place as any to take advantage of nature’s cupboard. He had planned from the beginning to supplement their food reserves with wild game, so why not?
He also had to admit that part of the reason he wanted Joel to go was so the boy could have a little fun. God knew he deserved it. They all did. He was hoping Allie would join him. It would be a good distraction for them both while he got a fire going and relaxed for a little while.
He moved some blankets around the back of the truck and noticed the two old shotguns they had taken from Allie’s abductors the other day. He had all but forgotten about the old rusty guns.
Ben pulled them out and heaved the smaller shotgun that had been shortened into the river. He took a few steps toward the water before he tossed the other larger gun in as well.
“Why’d you do that?” Joel asked.
“They were in bad shape, and neither one was safe to shoot. More likely to hurt yourself than what you’re shooting at with those.” Ben walked back to the truck and grabbed three 20-gauge shotgun shells out of the back and handed them to Joel. “Three is all you get. Make ’em count.”
Ben was willing to let him hunt, but he didn’t want him going through a box of shells while chasing ducks around the marsh. There wasn’t much shooting light left anyways.
Joel grabbed his modified Weatherby out of the truck and looked at the now shortened barrel. “This should be interesting.”
Ben glanced at Joel. “Better get close.”
“Yeah,” Joel said before glancing at Allie. “Do you want to come?” Joel bit his lip.
“Sure, as long as I won’t be in the way,” she answered.
“No. Come on, it’ll be fun,” Joel insisted as he started backpedaling toward the marsh.
Allie threw her sleeping bag into her tent and zipped it up before she hurried to catch up with Joel. Gunner was already ahead of them by 20 feet and panting with excitement.
Ben quickly lost sight of the kids as they threaded into the cattails and reeds. He heard Joel te
ll Gunner to heel up to keep the dog from scaring the ducks before they even got there.
He shook his head, smiling. He wasn’t too confident in the prospects of having duck for dinner, but it almost didn’t matter. Sure, it would be nice, but it was rewarding enough to see them have a little break from reality.
Joel would have his work cut out for him. A sawed-off shotgun without a buttstock would increase the difficulty of shooting a duck out of the sky mid-flight by quite a bit. Still, though, it was out of season and maybe they could get in close.
There were definitely ducks in there. He could hear them occasionally in the distance among the marsh grass.
After his tent was squared away for the night, Ben began digging two holes for the fire. He dug them a few inches apart, one bigger than the other. Once he had them at the size and depth he wanted, he reached down into the larger one and dug a small tunnel connecting the two holes together at the bottom.
Then he filled the bottom of the larger one with dried grass and a few twigs. Fortunately, the riverbank was littered with dead wood and branches that had washed up long ago when the water had been high. Having been beached some time ago and left to bake in the sun, most of the wood he found was dry and brittle. Perfect for burning, he thought, as he gathered it up in his arms.
Before long he had a respectable pile of various-sized sticks assembled next to the fire pit.
The dry grass at the bottom lit easily with a flick of the lighter, and he was adding larger material into the hole in no time. He topped it off with a couple pieces from a thick branch he chopped up with the hatchet.
He stepped back for a minute to catch his breath and admire his work. The two-hole system was working well and there was very little smoke escaping from the fire.
He could already feel the warmth, and even though it was pleasant out, there was just something about a fire that always seemed to put his mind at ease. He stared at the flames as they began to lick the edges of the larger pieces on top.