I don’t have an umbrella in the car, not that it would’ve done any good in this storm. More than likely it would’ve blown right out of my hands or taken me with it, Mary Poppins-style.
Raindrops pummel my face as I fight to see ahead of me. Vines and sticker bushes drag against my jeans and I’m grateful to be wearing long pants.
The ground is soggy, and I suspect the local creek has become a raging river. As the cabins come into view to my right, a flash of yellow draws my eye to the left.
It’s the Pikachu kid. He’s drenched and clinging to a post on the bridge. Even in the gloaming, Adam is easy to recognize in his costume. He’s standing at the opposite foot of the bridge trying to coax the kid across to safety as the wind whips past them.
“Nooooo!” the kid wails, clinging more tightly to the post.
Adam’s voice is muffled by the mask as he says something I can’t hear.
“You’re not my father,” the kid shouts.
Lightning crackles in the air, splitting a nearby tree branch in half. The heavy segment falls between them, forcing them both backward and splintering the wood planks in the middle of the bridge.
Water rushes in to fill the gap.
“Stay there!” I shout. I rush toward them before the whole thing collapses. Water spills over the bridge and swirls around the boy’s calves.
“Kid, let go of the post and jump!”
The boy shakes his head adamantly and hugs the post.
“He has sensory issues,” Adam explains. “He wouldn’t let me pick him up.”
“I get respecting the kid’s boundaries, but these are exigent circumstances.”
Adam groans. “Yes, I should’ve told him that in those words. I’m sure he would’ve understood and not freaked out and drowned us both.”
I see his point. A freaked-out kid could result in one or both of them falling in and getting swept away by the rapidly rising current.
The water splashes against the boy’s legs, and I hear him whimper. An idea begins to take shape. “Hold on.”
As I start forward, Adam grips my arm. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to jump in that gap.”
“Are you nuts? You’ll get swept away.”
“I can manage it. Trust me.”
“Let me guess. You were captain of the men’s swim team in law school.”
“Something like that.” I jump into the empty space and steel myself against the cold as water engulfs my lower half. “What’s your name?”
“Nathan.”
“Nathan, I’m Charlie. I’m going to help you across, okay?”
Nathan shakes his head like a wet dog. “Don’t pick me up.”
“I won’t, I promise.”
Gripping the plank near Nathan, I lower my chest to the water and kick out my legs, resting my shins on the separated half to form a human bridge. Water rushes over me and fills my nostrils.
Adam claps his hands. “Come on, Nathan. You can do it, buddy.”
I feel his small feet pound along my spine and then a relieved whoop from Adam. I roll to the side and tuck in my knees, switching to a seated position on their side of the broken bridge. Careful to maintain my balance, I pull myself to my feet.
