With all the ferries gone, the only way to get across Puget Sound is to go south, around it. From Capitol Hill, we get on Interstate 5 heading south, which will take us to Tacoma and then across the Tacoma Narrows Bridge. Bremerton is just north of that. We’re making good time. The freeway heading south out of the city is seven lanes wide. I weave the car back and forth like a skier on a slalom course, navigating around the wrecks while going nearly eighty.
After about a half hour of uneventful driving, we race past downtown Tacoma and take Highway 16 toward Tacoma Narrows Bridge. Soon, we’ll cross Puget Sound and onto the Kitsap Peninsula. Just a few more miles, and we’ll be home free.
We’re cruising around the last bend before the approach to the bridge. The Audi is cruising fast along the wide-open freeway. And then I slam on the brakes. We come to a shrieking stop, leaving a dark streak of burned rubber on the road. I step out of the car and gape, trying to process the sight before me. A massive twisted hunk of metal, concrete, and wire sits where two massive suspension bridges used to stand tall, built side by side, spanning the Tacoma Narrows waterway.
Zach walks up to my side. He looks onward at the carnage before us. “I can’t believe what I’m—”
But he can’t complete his sentence as he doubles over and lands on his hands and knees, overwhelmed by a fit of coughing.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Nothing Unsaid
ZACH
The coughing comes swift and brutal. The ferociousness consumes me. A sense of malaise descended on my earlier, but now it feels as if I’m choking up a lung. A wave of panic hits me as I fight for air. Blood rushes to my face and neck. It feels like I might suffocate.
Aiden consoles me, rubbing my back. “I’m here, Zach. I’m here.” Gradually, the coughing subsides, and I catch my breath. That was a scary moment. Having Aiden by my side is comforting, even though there’s nothing he can do.
I get up, and we walk over toward where the road collapsed to better see the wreckage that once was the twin Tacoma Narrows bridges.
Two bridges once stood side by side, one built long ago, the other more recently. Both were over a mile long and had giant towers on each side supporting the suspension cables. The pier that held up the east tower of the older bridge appears to have crumbled. Most likely destroyed by the sea level rise and the enormous storm surge that spread through every waterway in the world. The massive tower toppled into the main span of the newer bridge.
The way forward is utterly impassable.
“I guess we’ll need to go the long way around,” I say. “Down to Olympia and around the south side of Puget Sound.”
Aiden looks at me, his face wracked with worry. “We’ll never make it. That’ll take us a hundred miles out of our way. We don’t have enough range.”
“And there aren’t exactly any charging stations around.”
Aiden shakes his head. “We can take our chances to find a vehicle with fuel, but all that is going to take time. And that’s time we don’t have.”
My head is swimming. I’m already feeling ill, but now panic is rising. I don’t want to die. I close my eyes and clear out unwanted thoughts, continuing until my terror ebbs.
I open my eyes. With a fresh mind, sometimes, a solution presents itself. That’s when it hits me.
“Aiden, how far are we from south Seattle?”
“About thirty miles. But we just came from that way.”
A smile grows across my face. “How do you feel about learning to sail?”
*
We’re back in the Audi, heading north the way we came. I plug the South Seattle Marina into the navigation system. According to the car, it’s thirty-five miles away, but I know it’ll be longer than that.
“The roads are a mess on the way, so we’ll have to use the GPS as a guideline,” I warn Aiden. “But I learned some tricks to getting there. I hope we’ll have enough range.”
“Just tell me where to go,” Aiden responds. “We’ll make it.”
A sense of dread grows as each mile of range ticks away. We’re nearing the marina, only a few miles to go, and our range is down to five miles. The Audi keeps warning us that the battery is low, but we ignore it. We’ll keep going until we hit zero, then continue on foot the rest of the way if necessary.
But we get lucky. With two miles of range left, we drive up to the marina.
“See, nothing to worry about,” Aiden says with a sheepish grin.
“Yeah, two whole miles to spare. Why was I worried?”
