“The next closest bridge is nearly an hour’s drive south, and that would take us over a hundred miles out of our way. But I don’t see any other way.”
“Well, let’s get to it.” Zach has a determined look on his face.
We hop into the car and start driving. I have to backtrack a few miles to a road that heads south and doesn’t expose us. We continue south, avoiding highways and taking back roads. A few times, I have to drive on poorly maintained dirt roads, stressing the off-road capabilities of the Corolla. But the topography is not cooperating, and soon, we hit a massive ridge a few hundred feet high that blocks our progress. Our only option is to take a road that funnels us back to the main highway, running alongside the river.
Once we get there, my worst fears are confirmed. The ridge and the river form a natural pinch-point, and it’s swarming with guards.
Zach looks on in disgust. “What the heck do we do now?”
I consult the map. “We’ve got two options. Backtrack along this ridge for fifty miles or so, then go downriver until we find a bridge that isn’t guarded. We may have to go as far as Portland, where there are lots of crossings. Or follow the river north until we get to less populated areas. We may have to go all the way to Canada. Either way, we’re going hundreds of miles out of our way, and we’ll have to find some more gas.”
“What about a boat?”
“We can keep our eyes out for one, I guess. But that would mean ditching the car. And this damn river is over a mile wide, so we’d be exposed the whole time we cross it.”
Zach nods slowly, eyes downcast.
“It’s getting kinda late,” I say. “Let’s find a place to set up camp, and we’ll think about what we want to do tomorrow.”
Secretly, I worry thateverybridge will be guarded, and taking the vials across is too risky. But there’s another option I’m not telling Zach. It’s the moment I’ve been dreading for days, but the time has come. About ten miles south of the I-90 bridge, the Wanapum Dam spans the river. Though there’s no way todriveacross it, a person could walk across. But it’s dangerous. I’m sure it’s guarded, so getting across will require stealth and probably life-or-death choices.
This is a risk I’m willing to take for myself.
But I can’t take Zach.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Tough Choices
ZACH
We head back north, looking for a good campsite. The area around the Columbia River Gorge is arid. No trees or vegetation anywhere—just a vast canyon desertscape with a massive river running down the middle. But we finally find a little overlook with a view of a dam that crosses the river. A rocky knoll provides cover from the road where we can park the car and set up camp.
Aiden’s been acting strange since we left Cedar Grove. He seems distant. Distracted. I’ve noticed he chews his lip when something is bothering him. And I guess it turns out that worry was the Columbia River.
Crossing a river is something you’d take for granted before the Great Collapse. A pretty view for a couple of minutes on an otherwise boring drive. But now the river is a barrier. I imagine how an explorer might have felt hundreds of years ago, seeing a massive river lying in their path.
I keep looking at the dam. “What do you think about trying to cross there?”
“It doesn’t have a road,” Aiden says quickly. “We couldn’t drive across.”
“We could walk across. Bring the battery charger. Hope for the best.”
Aiden shakes his head. “With as much work as it was getting this car, I’d rather not ditch it if we don’t have to.”
He seems set on not considering the dam, so I let it drop.
We go without fire and eat a cold dinner. Jo had packed us some sandwiches, complete with homemade bread. It’s the first time I’ve eaten bread in ages, and I didn’t know a sandwich could taste this good. Aiden sits in his chair, lost in thought. He’s been saying almost nothing and barely looking at me.
Our time at Cedar Grove almost feels like a dream now. The kiss with Aiden was magical. But we haven’t talked about it at all since then. And the longer we wait, the stranger it feels. I’m starting to think maybe itwasa dream.
After dinner, I find a pleasant spot to admire the vista. I sit on the ground with my back up against a sloping rock. I have a stunning 180-degree view of the entire river gorge. After a while, Aiden comes over and stands next to me.
“Hey, is this seat taken?” He points to the patch of dirt to my left.
“Well, I was kinda saving it for somebody. But you seem like a nice guy. Go ahead.”
Aiden sits and puts his arm around me, filling me with warmth. Maybe the magic from Cedar Grove hasn’t entirely left.
