Blown Bridge Valley
Page 5
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As they swung around a curve, and lifted over a rise, a glimmer ahead grew steadily into flashing blue and red lights stabbing out into the night. Vince felt his adrenalin resurge as he pulled his foot from the accelerator, coasting, staring ahead and touching high, then low beams to penetrate the morning mist. The clock showed minutes before 4 AM. Details stood out as freeze frames now, a battered blue Rest Area 400m sign, with a 4 Axle Limit hanging below. Angular patterns within taillights reflected, and ahead the curves of neon roadblocks glared. They eased up slow motion before the overhead beams of a dark orange metal bridge looming dark in the mist.
Just as Vince felt the tiny jerk of a final stop, it seemed the mountains trembled.
Lightning flashed ground up and the shock of an explosion rocked their hybrid. Annalise sat up with a start as an eruption of concrete dust and rubble flew skyward casting twisted shadows into the hazy air. Then a sprinkling of shatter tinkled down on the hood of their car.
Vince sat up straight, rigid, staring. Then he relaxed and almost laughed. Christ, he just couldn’t help it.
“Hey, don’t worry.” He shook his head. “It’s just the bridge.” Annalise looked out through her tears. She’d been through so much. “We caught the closing scene, that’s all. We’re almost there, close enough.” Vince glanced at the dash map; this blown bridge had crossed its river a few kilometers short of their last corner. Still forty five to get to their S cell but good. “OK, we make like this is a border crossing.” If Brad was right, this would be an official Pacific North West controlled crossing. By spring their Valley Council would have the real decision-making authority.
His heartbeat slowed. They could trace the flashing blue and red to the outline of what might once have been an RCMP chase-car. The car, now painted with another design was parked across the middle of the highway.
A walking shadow turned into a uniformed officer holding flashlight and shotgun. He walked towards their window, pistol hanging in holster. His finger jabbed back the way they had come. “Highway’s closed. No one gets through.”
“We live in the valley.”
He ducked down to look through the window. “I’ll need driver’s licenses...both of you.” He shone the flashlight on their license cards.
“You live in Calgary.” He looked at them.
“We own land in the valley. We qualify as One Valley residents.”
“Wait here.”
They looked at each other. “Can we even trust this guy, dad?”
“We have no choice.” One risk Brad said the Valley took was on the Pacific NW regional agreement. Three American states and BC had been talking. The BC effort was their biggest interest especially in a regional police force. “These guys are gonna be our new police. We’ll need regulation, so police can be good when they’re on the right side. We have to be careful though; we have to keep them responsible.”
With the wait-out-the-global-climate chaos strategy, the biggest problem might be the refugees, Julia said, the others on their way there. Who gets in, who stays out. That would have to be policed. His choice to leave when he finally made it was good Vince decided.
“We’ve got quite a few hours by car between us and Calgary now.” He looked at his daughter. “That’s good, Annalise, real good. We just have to get to our S cell, our new home. Forget about Calgary. We’ll wait for daylight and cycle the rest of the way. Down a nice paved highway; shouldn’t be bad. We’ll be there by midday.”
Vince read the latest email message from Brad. All outside vehicles would now wait on Council approval, based on a qualifications list. They will have to go through the new vehicle entry process. All inside vehicles would get the same review this winter.
“And hey, we got past the ski resort. That would have been a good two day cycle ride.”
The officer came back to their car.
“Look, no vehicles enter, not today. You can park down by the Station bridge. That’s a walk across only for now. That will be your entry point once you get a vehicle entry permit.”
“Any more choke points ahead?” Vince asked.
The officer looked at him directly, as if confirming him to be of the in-crowd. “The next bridge up ahead is gonna have a welded gate. All vehicle entry will be double checked there.”
“We have bicycles.”
“Restricted. You can get a cycle permit at Valley office.”
“We don’t want to be camping here.”
“Look,” the officer looked at him again, and at his daughter. “Walking in is an option. We advise daylight hours only.” He walked away towards the flashing lights.
“Check out the map, dad.” Annalise seemed excited now. “See that little train station bridge.”
“Right. There’s nothing but a trail along that side of the river.”
Vince turned the car around, pulling over on the side road leading down to the Train Station bridge. A scatter of vehicle silhouettes poked out from the ditch on either side. Council could control traffic coming in via this smaller bridge and the trail, the only way around the blown bridge. And then a second control point at the welded next bridge. He found a place to park.
“OK, Annalise,” he shrugged. “We walk in then, with light loads. We sort things out. We adjust.”
Annalise nodded like she’d heard it before. She had Vince knew.
“So, best right now if we take our time, eat, rest and wait for sunrise. A couple more hours.”
Vince sent a message to Brad. Kind of like getting on an Ark, Bud.
Annalise tucked back into her jacket, hands up sleeves, eyes closed with head resting on her backpack. He looked at her amazed. How this kid was dealing with this...there had always been something else going on in her he could never put his finger on.
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They walked across the second last bridge, that afternoon. “Map says nine more kilometers to the S cell.” By all rights, they were now in the Valley.
A smile had been creeping in on Annalise’ face through the day, and he could feel a lightness in his own exhausted step. Almost like an afternoon hike up a mountain. Great to get to the peak, but anticipating the relief of taking boots off at the bottom.
Still, Vince had been not just counting as they walked, but carefully evaluating the barrier value of river bridges and railroad overpasses along the highway. Three river bridges right in and around that last highway corner, and two railroad overpasses there too. The third bridge back from the valley was just a creek and wouldn’t do much, but just out of the valley the last two bridges had potential. This road between the Valley and the last corner will make an excellent eastern buffer, with any point to be closed as required. BC highways were well laid out to isolate the Valley, one blown bridge at a time.
“We’ll be there before dark, easy.”
End
Discover other Writings by Les W Kuzyk
If you like Blown Bridge Valley, consider reading Green Sahara and my novel Pinatubo II following oil field engineer Vince when he meets that other engineer Brad in Niger, Africa. There they design geoengineering for the HICCC and seek out a political climate change solution. Or have a look at Next Door Data for another climate change political story.
My soon to be published novel The Shela Directive follows youth in a speculative science fiction novel. The new adult characters in 2029 struggle with the social justice issue of the wealthy, of who owns the wealth and what wealth should really be used for. They had their needs met by the first woman president, but with her assassination each had their social world degraded in this near future urban setting.
My short fiction, A Future History of the Environment speaks to a global scenario of near future climate change as a new adult looks back on our next few decades and writes her university history exam in the year 2052.
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Les W Kuzyk
About Les W Kuzyk
Testing the waters of writing through a graduate university Anthropology and Religious Studies study, Les composed a thesis themed on a morals-based world order. Having thus learned of his passion for words and after publishing several non-fiction writings, he now focuses his writing voice on fiction. He has life experience with various cultures including the pura vida lifestyle of Costa Rica and the Polynesian culture of the South Pacific island nations. He lives with his Eastern European wife and daughter in Calgary.
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