He looked around and found a chunk of asphalt as big around as his fist. Sliding down the slope, he left the relative safety of the embankment. He could feel tremors of instability underneath his feet as he dodged the vehicles still on the bridge, using his flashlight to check each one for drivers or passengers. As he neared the hatch of Sassy’s car, he called, “Sassy! You in there?”
The outline of a hand pressed to the inside of the rear windshield. He closed the distance at a fast clip. Shining his light through the glass, he saw her pale features, her eyes as wide as caverns. The terror in them made his adrenaline leap. Scanning, he noted the sunroof on top of her car and motioned to it.
She shook her head. “It won’t open,” he saw more than heard her say.
The bridge swayed. The front tire of the CRV lurched over the rail. Sassy’s car shifted. Nick gripped the roof of the Durango, planted his foot on the bumper and climbed. The frame groaned and metal shrieked as the dually shouldered heavily into the passenger side.
This chain reaction could only end in disaster. Nick had to get Sassy out immediately. Through the sunroof, he pointed to the right side of the back seat, then showed her how to cover her head.
She nodded and got into position.
Nick clipped the flashlight on his belt. With both hands, Nick used every ounce of strength he had to bring the chunk of asphalt down into the center of the sunroof. A crack spiderwebbed outward. He brought the chunk down in the same spot and felt the glass give way. It trickled into the cab below. He kicked away the sharp remnants around the edges before getting down on his hands and knees and peering into the back seat. “You okay?”
“I’m okay!” she answered.
He reached inside. “Take my hand!”
The bridge lurched. He grabbed the edges of the empty sunroof to stop his momentum. The Honda’s headlights were now shining on the water beneath, seconds from going over.
“Nick!” Sassy cried.
He reached into the cab again. “Grab on, Sassy!”
Her fingers slipped over his. It took a moment to get a decent grip. He dropped the rock and wrapped his other hand over hers. “Watch your head!” he insisted, tugging.
Her head and shoulders emerged first. There was a cut on her temple that bled down the side of her face. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her the rest of the way out.
Sobs racked her throat, but he had no time to hold her. They had to find a way out of this situation quickly. “Don’t let go of my hand!” he told her as the rain beat down around them.
“Okay,” she agreed, nodding quickly to show she understood.
“Can you walk?”
“I can walk.”
“Good. Stay close. If the bridge shifts again, grab onto me,” he instructed.
“I can do that,” she agreed.
Carefully, they backtracked over the roof. The lights from the emergency vehicles lit the scene before them. Every vehicle had ricocheted into the weak support of the left rail. The supports underneath wouldn’t be able to hold the combined weight of the cars for much longer.
As Nick shined his flashlight on the pavement, his feet came to a halt. The slope from the embankment had crumbled more, leaving a five-foot gap. He could see Ryan, Perez and others on the embankment, watching the scene play out. They couldn’t get across.
He turned back to Sassy. Rain had washed away the blood on her face and plastered her hair to her cheeks. She looked to him for an answer, her hand locked firmly in his. “What do we do, Nick?”
He eyed the fall to the river. Branches and debris had been swept up in the current. He remembered the floodwaters that had killed his father. The situation was so similar, it raised the fine hairs on the back of his neck.
Nick turned to Sassy and took both of her hands in his. “Listen. You remember that summer after high school when we went crazy and decided white-water rafting was something we should do?”
She squinted at him. “What does that have to do with—”
“We both got tossed from the raft and swept downriver,” he said. “We stuck together and made it out.”
Realization dawned. Horror struck her face. “Nick. You’re not thinking—”
“We can make it,” he insisted.
“We don’t have life preservers,” she pointed out. “This isn’t an excursion. This is our lives.”
