“Maybe it will still work.” Dorran pressed Clare’s shoulder as he stepped past her to examine the structure. “We could repair it.”
She narrowed her eyes, dubious.
“Not properly. Not with stone.” Dorran stopped as close to the water’s edge as he could and crouched down, peering at the exposed support beams. “But we could wedge it with branches and logs. The supports are still there. If we can fill the hole sufficiently, the car should be able to drive over it.”
“Okay.” She stepped back, trying to envision it. The hole was facing the flow, which should help hold the branches in place. That meant they only had a four-foot area to fill… and to make stable enough that it could support a car’s weight. “Okay, that might work.”
“We’ll make it work.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The willows around the river provided an abundance of fallen wood. Most of it had been caught up by the melted snow and swept downriver, but many branches had been caught in shrubs and against roots.
Clare picked the thickest branches she could find then dragged them back to the river’s edge, where Dorran broke them into size with a well-placed stomp or the axe. He leapt across the submerged segment of bridge then perched on the edge of the hole as he lodged the wood between the supports and the remaining stones.
“Be careful.” Clare dropped off another armful of dead wood. Dorran seemed precariously close to the edge, and she didn’t like how shaky some of the stones were. He raised a hand to acknowledge her then returned to kicking at a branch to get it level with the rest of the bridge’s surface.
This has to work. Please. It has to.
A scream broke the still air. They both froze, turning towards the forest on the other side of the bridge, where lingering fog crawled between the trunks. The noise hadn’t been close. It hadn’t been human, either.
Dorran motioned for Clare to come closer. “Give me what you have. It will be enough. We shouldn’t linger here any longer.”
Clare stretched to pass Dorran the remaining sticks across the water, backed up to the car, and reached through the open door to get the crowbar. She swung it at her side as she scanned the area: the willows surrounding them, the steadily rushing water, and the sparse forest on the bridge’s other side. Dorran moved in quick, sharp bursts as he fit the remaining branches in between the ones he’d already placed. Then, with one hand resting on what little remained of the wood railing, he stepped onto the temporary surface. The wood creaked and bowed under his weight, but the branches didn’t break or dip more than a few inches.
“That should be enough.” Dorran jumped over the water to join Clare on the spongy ground. “Let us try the car now.”
She nodded but couldn’t stop herself from staring at the engorged stream. The water moved quickly, and it would have to be freezing. She didn’t like to think about trying to swim against it… or keep her head above water, for that matter.
“You should cross the bridge on foot,” Dorran said. “We stand a better chance with less weight in the car, and you can help guide my path across.”
She frowned. “How come your plans always end up with you carrying the most risk?”
“Because I am abhorrently selfish.” He found her hand, lifted it, and kissed her fingers, laughter sparkling in his eyes. “And because I secretly hope it will impress you.”
“Hah.” Even though Dorran still held her hand, her fingers felt cold. She shivered. “How about I drive and impress you?”
“I would rather see you on solid ground.” He gave her another kiss. “Don’t worry for me. I am not afraid.”
A second wailing cry echoed from the forest. Clare pulled Dorran close, hugging him tightly, relishing the feel of how warm and solid he was. Then she stepped back, swallowing the ache in her throat. “Okay. Okay. But be careful. Please.”
“I will.” He stepped into the car.
Clare waited until the motor started, then she turned to face the bridge. The water grasped at everything it touched, obsessively trying to tear it away. Even as she watched, a clump of dead grass and soil broke free from the bank to her right. It tumbled into the water, breaking apart and vanishing under the makeshift bridge repairs.
She couldn’t stop visualising what might happen if the bridge couldn’t hold the car. It would tumble and roll, dragged under by the rapids, the pressure fighting any attempt at escaping the vehicle while icy water flowed inside like waterfalls.
Stop it. Dorran believes this will work. Trust him.
Clare held the crowbar close as she leapt across the submerged patch of bridge, stretching to avoid getting her feet wet. The stones crunched under her feet as she climbed to the highest part of the arch. The bridge wasn’t long—twenty feet, if that—but it was a lot less stable than she would have hoped. She couldn’t see any concreting between the rocks. Peterson and his friends seemed to have built it the old-fashioned way—using simple gravity and tight packing to keep it stable. It was no wonder the river had ripped sections free.
She eyed the gap as she passed it. The wood was packed tightly, with flat branches on top to give the car something solid to drive over. But it still left her feeling queasy. Some of the gaps would be large enough for a tyre to become stuck in. And some of the branches didn’t seem strong enough to carry much weight at all.
Clare faced the car. She could see Dorran behind the cracked windshield, his eyes glinting through the shadows. She nodded to tell him she was ready.
The car crept forward. Its front wheels disappeared into the submerged section, and Clare bit back a scream as the car’s front drifted to the side. But its tyres found purchase again, and a second later, they were back on the dry stones.
“Okay.” Clare backed up, one eye on the uneven ground beneath her feet and one eye on the car. Dorran slowed as he neared the crumbled section. “Okay, okay. We can do this.”
She motioned for him, adjusting the car’s trajectory to move over the thicker pieces of wood. They creaked as weight compressed them. Little flecks of spray splashed up from where the river hit the stones, grazed Clare’s cheeks. The water’s angry rumble, the creak of trees behind her, and the whistle of the cold wind—she pushed it all to the back of her mind and zeroed in on the vehicle, and the man, she couldn’t afford to lose.
One of the branches snapped. The car lurched down, and Clare yelped. It didn’t fall far, though. Dorran, eyebrows low and lips pressed together, froze in his seat. The car hung there, its front right-hand corner dipped down towards the water, then Dorran tried creeping it forward again. Slowly, the car rose out of its hole.
He’s almost there. Almost…
Clare continued to beckon, her heart in her throat, barely noticing as her slow paces back put her feet into the water submerging the end of the bridge. The car’s front wheels were almost onto solid stones.
The car horn blared, deafening. Clare locked eyes with Dorran. He pitched forward in his seat, teeth bared, eyes wild with fear. He pressed on the horn again, staring at something over her shoulder.
Reflexes took hold. Clare ducked and felt claws snag on the back of her knit top. She pivoted and swung her crowbar at the same time. The metal connected with something fleshy, and angry chattering exploded around her.