Red gives me the eye, and I can’t help but notice that he’s sweating profusely. Or is that rain? Either way, he seems exhausted. “You’re sure you’re not just trying to trick me into going to the hospital?”
“If I were trying to trick you, I’d think there would be closer hospitals than Bend.”
“Last I heard, sixty-five percent of the hospital beds in the state are out of commission.”
“Well, that’s cheery,” I say, “but no. No ulterior motives.”
“Uh-huh.”
It’s only a few minutes until we’re using our last burst of energy to book it down the highway that leads to the bridge. Vincent’s on the other side of this river, and in a few minutes, I will be, too. There’s only one problem.
The sound of rattling and tumbling rocks tells me what’ll be waiting for us near the bridge, even if we can’t see it yet. Another landslide. Another detour. But where can we go? If it’s compromised our only means across the river…
I reach out to the nearest passersby headed toward us, hoping they’ve gotten a better view. “Excuse me, do you know of a way across the river?”
The woman, clad in dusty mom jeans and sporting a chin length bob, shields her eyes from the rain. “We walked down here to try Sellwood, but the landslide is too close to risk it. It’s pouring onto what’s left of the ramp as it is. I mean, I saw a few people trying to climb along the side, but…”
I would die. I would shit myself and die. “Have you heard of any other bridges making it?”
“Tilikum Crossing. I’d avoid heading north for the time being, though.”
“Fire damage?”
She swallows hard, shifting her weight from side to side. “That, and… don’t look in the water. They haven’t been able to recover everything lost from the other bridges.”
Red curses under his breath. “What about The Spirit? I heard it was doing ferries.”
“I doubt they’d set up this close to one of the few standing bridges.”
I close my eyes and let out a slow exhale. What would Vincent’s course of action be if he were here? The only other bridge is a walk Red probably can’t make, and at this point, the ferries are just a rumor. Either we find a way around the ramp sludge, or we sit on the sidelines for a while.
There’s no way I can sit idle, knowing Vincent’s this close, but I don’t want to push Red. Maybe if these women are going to find shelter for a while, he can go with them. Once I find Vincent and bring him back through, we can reevaluate our plans.
Because Vincent’s alive.
And I will find him.
“Well, I say we go for it,” Red declares, hardening his gaze on the bridge. “It’s not like things are going to get better anytime soon.”
The woman’s brows pinch. “You’re welcome to try it.”
Her companion, a tall woman with a stiff ponytail, elaborates, “Our husbands are with Station Twenty. We’ve been trying to make contact, but we both have kids at home. If we don’t make it back to them…”
I nod so we won’t fill in the blanks. I feel for people in their situation, I do, but I cannot afford to go down that rabbit hole right now. If I’m getting across, I’ve got to focus. “We understand. Good luck.”
“You too.”
We press on until we’re close enough to get a decent view, and Red crosses his arms. “I’m thinking we climb over the railing here by the park, sidestep up to the ramp, and then climb onto the bridge once we’re clear of the debris flow.”
My heart squeezes just thinking about it, sending a lightheaded, detached feeling to my brain. What he’s describing is a glorified marriage of rock climbing and tightrope walking. One false step, and we’ll plummet into the angry, churning water below. Vincent will never know I came for him. My family will see my check-ins and cling to false hope. Everything up to this point will have been for nothing. “We could always take a rest, first. Figure out a workaround.”
“I promised to get you across that bridge,” Red reminds me in a gentle voice. “And we need to move before this rain breathes new momentum into that slide. So, let’s just get it over with.”
“Famous last words,” I mutter, pushing away the hair now plastered to my face.
It’s a chilly rain. Or at least, it feels that way when you have no pants. We climb over the railing without further discussion, still working with a safety net of land beneath us, and start to find our footing. Having something to hold on to is nice, but it doesn’t quite reach waist height, so my balance is off. I can only imagine the struggle Red’s having.
Not that I’m taking my eyes off this tiny ledge to look.
“You know, I’ve pictured this,” Red says between focused breaths over the rain, “but it’s kind of terrifying now that I’m actually doing it.”
“You’ve pictured clinging to the outside of a concrete guardrail barrier?”
Sidestep, sidestep. Good…
He chuckles, shaking his head. “This, how things would end. I’ve had a while to think about it.”
I pause. “Uh, you know something I don’t?”
“I feel bad,” he goes on. “I really didn’t think I’d make a friend in all of this.”
I grip the railing as hard as I can with one hand, tensing my muscles as I risk a quick swipe of my eyes with the other. This rain is relentless. “You’re freaking me out.”
“I’m not trying to scare you. I’m just trying to prepare you. Don’t get too attached to me.”
“You don’t think there’s a better time and place to have this discussion?” I spit out the water spraying my mouth. Wind keeps flipping up the hem of my t-shirt, but I’m past the point of caring. I’ve got bigger issues, like splitting my attention between my morbidly depressed companion and the seventy-five foot drop awaiting us, the closer we get to the bridge. “Just wait ‘til we find Vincent and his family. We’ll all find a place to sit down, get warm, and hash things out.”
He doesn’t have a response for that, or maybe he’s concentrating now that we’re nearing the sunken ramp. Of course, he might be less-than-subtly waiting for a subject change, too.
“You can stay with us,” I announce. “Me, Vincent, Gizmo—even Naveen, if he needs somewhere to crash up north.”
I’d shared the gist of my survival tale on the long walk here, so he knows who I’m talking about. “I’ve got a house—or the remains of one, at least—but we can always look for a bigger place outside of the city. I make decent money, and I’m sure Vincent can find work. You wouldn’t have to worry about a thing.”
“Except dying,” he offers in a flat tone. “Sorry, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.”
“No, I totally get it.”
“But you don’t, sweetie.” I can hear the emotion caught in his throat now. He’s teetering. “I don’t want to wait around, forging friendships that’ll make things harder when it’s time.”
My jaw goes slack. “What about the mountains?”
“That’s different.”
“Why? Because you’d get to suffer in solitude? What about your poor family and friends?”
“I don’t want them to know,” he grits out.
“So, you’d rather them hold onto hope that you’re just missing or—as the case is now—that you were lost in some disaster?”
“You do not get to judge me about this.”
“But what if you’re that one in five and you do beat the first year? You can’t just isolate yourself, awaiting the inevitable. What’s the point of being on this earth to begin with?” So much for a subject change.
We skirt around the bend, even more carefully than before. The landslide is turning into a mudslide, and not the good kind with Kahluah. Everything shaken loose by the quake and aftershocks has stretched from the hillside, still tumbling in places and turning into slick, erosive trails. It’s gathering speed and, in a few minutes, the slurry will completely overtake what’s left of the ramp.
Finally, he mutters, “The five-year odds are th
ree percent.”
Well, shit.
“S-So you’re that three percent,” I stammer as we transition onto the bridge, mud swelling against the concrete. “It has to be based on some survivors. I bet once we get out of the disaster area and get you started on a treatment pla—”
“Elena, stop!” Red’s halted all progression, staring down at me with the most pained expression I’ve ever seen. The rain pours over his heaving shoulders, spritzing a silvery outline, and he shouts, “Just let it go. Let me go.”
“You’re tired.” I keep my jaw stiff, blinking away reactive tears. “Don’t make a decision you can’t take back while you’re under this much stress. Let’s just get across.”
After a moment, he gives a micro-nod, his whole body trembling. “Okay.”
“Okay?” I let out a breath full of so much relief, my knees actually buckle—sending a shot of adrenaline that has me hugging the rails. “G-Good. Because I will use this duct tape on my wrist to tie us together if I have to.”
Red laughs despite himself, tears or rain lining his cheeks. “Let’s do this.”
The river is so loud here, stirred by the rain, that I can’t look down. I can’t even think about looking down or I’ll picture it, which is just as bad. Instead, I focus on the goal at hand. We’re ten, maybe fifteen slippery footholds away from being able to cross over. Once we’re close, I’m forcing him to go first. He’s acting too weird for me to leave him on this side of the bridge.
Unless he’s desperate enough to take me with him.
My pulse stirs again, sending a chill up my spine. No. We may not know each other well, but I can tell that’s something he’d never do, regardless of circumstances. We just have to make it a few more feet, and then we can use the lamppost for balance.
“You okay over there?” Red asks, edging sideways. “You sound like you’re hyperventilating.”
“Me? I’m great. Peachy. Why don’t you go ahead and climb over?” I swallow.
“Nah, you go ahead.”
“I insist.”
“Ladies first.”
“Red.” I force calm into my voice. “You wanted to be in my squad. Your alpha female is telling you to go.”
He bristles and heaves a sigh. “I’ll help you over then.”
“Okay.” I look down.
Why did I look down?
Rough, steely-gray water surges below, fed by the rain, triggering glitches of memory. White skims the top as it clamors and crashes against the pillars for a sacrifice, and ohhhhhhh, I think I just peed. I can’t breathe. It’s dizzying up here, bracing against the wind, trying to hold on to slick concrete. All it would take is one big gust or, God forbid, another aftershock to—
Red falls back in my peripheral, a slow blur toward the water.
I scream and flail with my left arm. Something wet snags my fingertips. His shirt. I’ve got a fistful of his shirt!
“What the hell?” He jerks his head in my direction, wide-eyed and still gripping the railing.
“I thought you were letting go!”
“I was leaning back to lift my leg over!”
“Oh.”
He climbs the barrier, and then reaches back to help. “I said I would wait, didn’t I?”
I scramble to follow suit and nearly collapse onto the pavement. “Shh… it’s beautiful.”
“It won’t be in a minute. C’mon.”
I’m about to agree when it hits me. He’s eerily calm—like, Mama Jay calm. Is there a chance something just happened and my mind is wrapping me in another one of its protective cocoons? And is there something wrong with me that I even have to wonder that? How do other people cope with the world collapsing around them? I swallow hard and press my lips together.
Red eyes me. “What?”
“I…” The tears finally find their way out, spilling down my cheeks. I’m afraid to ask. How stupid is that? Like acknowledging the possibility out loud is going to make him dissipate into a cloud, lost to the wind, leaving me alone.
Completely and entirely alone.
“What’s wrong?” He glances behind me and takes my wrist. “Let’s figure it out on the other side, okay?”
“Did you… ?” I still can’t say it. I don’t want him to go. I don’t want to be left here.
He studies the ground for a moment. “I thought about it.”
“No, I mean… did you?”
“Did I what?”
I swallow again and wave my free hand to ward off the building anxiety. “Die? Did you die, Red?”
“What?” The alarm that registers on his face tells me I’m off. Way off. He pulls me against his soaked chest and pats my hair down. “No, honey. I’m here. You don’t have to worry about that yet.”
“W-Will you tell me?” I ask, stammering to cut through tears. “When you do? I don’t want to think… to still be…”
“Of course.”
I’m a mess. I should be the one comforting him, yet here I am, obsessing over my mental hang-ups. “I’m sorry.”
“Elena, I need you to understand something.” He pulls back, bending to meet my blurry stare. “If there were a real chance of any kind, I’d be fighting like hell right now. But the cancer spread before it was even diagnosed, and that’s nobody’s fault. Okay? When I say I’ve resigned to the fact, it’s because I’m in pain, and I don’t want to inflict pain on the people I care about.”
“I get it.” I’m ugly crying now, but it doesn’t matter. “I just don’t want you to go.”
“I don’t want to go, either,” he admits in a wavering voice, “but I have to, so don’t make this harder than it already is.”
“What do you want me to do? White Fang you?”
“Yes,” he laughs under his breath, shaking his head. “Yell at me. Force me to want to get the hell away from you and your tortured love story.”
“It’s not a love story.” I brush past him, putting on my best brave face for his sake. “Come on.”
“Really? That’s not what Vincent said.”
I hesitate mid-step. “What?”
CHAPTER 22
Red grins, despite his soaked mohawk having fallen at irregular, crimson angles. “I believe his words were, ‘Never thought I’d fall so fast or hard that I’d have this much trouble leaving. I’m forcing myself to go deal with my own family. How screwed up is that?’”
Fall? Vincent said he… fell? For me?
“I remember,” Red goes on, “because I snicker whenever someone uses fast and hard in a sentence.”
I open and shut my mouth several times before finding anything resembling English. “Um, can we go back to the falling part?”
“Maybe after we get down.” He nods towards the far ramp, which has succumbed to the same sunken fate as its counterpart. “Because I’m pretty sure you won’t want to talk about falling when we climb down that thing.”
No! Not another obstacle while I’m still trying to wrap my head around Vincent more or less confessing his feelings for me—to Red. What does that even mean? If we somehow find our way back to each other, is he going to go to Seattle with me? Is he looking for a relationship, or something more low-key? Am I even looking for a relationship right now?
I prance in place and shake the building unease down my arms like an Olympic swimmer. Red was right. Now’s not the time for distractions, especially ones that bring to mind the sheer terror that coursed through my veins a minute ago. I follow the railing with my eyes until it abruptly drops off.
There’s no highway barrier to follow here. The ramp collapsed between two populated areas with buildings framing each side. One could make the jump, if they had a death wish, but our surest bet is going to be a climb down the surviving pillar.
“Any idea how we’ll climb down?” I creep toward the edge as low as I can manage without crawling. It’s a huge drop to the little road that winds alongside the river. We’d have to make it down seven or eight stories just to reach it, and I’m not sure either of us has the st
amina. But what’s the alternative? We can’t stay up here.
Red peers over the ledge beside me. “There’s a platform, what, a third of the way down? If we can make it down there, it looks like there’s another one beyond that. Then one more twenty-something foot drop at the end.”
“Okay.” I force my trembling knees to venture another step forward, over broken glass from a fallen light pole. “But how are we getting down to those platforms?”
“Well, unless you’ve got paracord lining your bra, I think it’s safe to assume we won’t be rapelling down. Think you can grip one of those supports, or is it too—”
“Duct tape!”
“Huh?”
“Duct tape. Vincent said you can make rope out of duct tape!” I hold up my wrist.
Red’s eyes widen. “What? Braid it?”
“I guess.” I rip the jumbo roll off my wrist and start stretching it out. “We can fold it in half to get rid of the stickiness, and then…”
“Braid it?” he offers again
“It could work.” The spark of hope inside me—the one that keeps burning down only to be fanned back at the last moment—ignites one more time. If this thing can hold us and we get down safely, Vincent and his family should be close. It’s almost over. We just have to press a little farther.
“Sixty yards. That’s a hundred and eighty feet, right?” Red asks. “Have you used any?”
“Just a few feet.” I struggle to hold onto the tape’s wet, slippery side while folding it over on itself. “That’s got to get us within jumping distance, right?”
“Yeah, assuming we don’t use too much anchoring, if we braid three strands, we might get a fifty-some foot length. That should mean the last platform.”
“Good.” That means a twenty-something foot drop if we miss the platform.
Red steps off approximate lengths to rip off, while I keep folding. We’re in sync without delegation, doing our best to concentrate despite the rain and ever-present threat of aftershock. Minutes stretch until he finally secures our silver streamers to the railing. “Ta da. Just like my bike handlebars.”
As We Know It Page 20
