bridge.
“HELP!” he yelled towards the bridge, his headlamp giving away his position.
Mary climbed back up the inside of the camper to reach Ian’s hand, where he pulled her through the door. She looked around for the first time, her mind fighting to process what was happening.
Trees churned and tumbling along the edge of the flotilla of logs. The camper sat as a metal island on the precipice of crusting destruction. She then looked up and could also see the bridge that Ian was talking about; but it wasn’t a normal bridge that a car passes over. It was a suspension bridge made of wire and wood. It was about 10 feet above the water, and there were people, with torches on the bridge…they were yelling at them.
“ You’ve got to hurry!” a voice yelled from the bridge.
Ian coiled the orange cable and yelled to the people on the bridge. “CATCH!”
They had about 25 yards.
“OK!” a response came back from the bridge.
They could see three or four people getting ready to catch the cord.
15 yards.
“What’s going to happen?” Mary asked. Fear gripped every fiber of her being as her headlight illuminated the fast approaching bridge.
“Just hang on and help as best as you can,” Ian demanded.
“What about you?” she pleaded.
10 yards.
Ian ignored her and stepped forward on the side of the trailer and swung his arm around like a softball pitcher and threw the coiled cable. The cord looked like an orange snake uncoiling as it sailed through the air and onto the suspension bridge.
5 yards.
Ian watched the people on the bridge catch the cord, wrap it around one of the boards and then rapidly tie it off to the bridge support. He then removed his belt as the logs and the camper and millions of gallons of water passed under the bridge.
Mary was yanked up and out over the logs and water. Her scream was one of pure panic and fear and it never let up. Ian saw her feet drag in the water for an instant as the people on the bridge adjusted to her weight and pull her up from the water. They had her. She would be rescued.
With that knowledge, Ian began to run along the back end of the trailer. The bridge passed overhead and he was flowing away at a rapid pace. He pumped his legs harder, running up the side of the trailer. The incline, created by the logs holding the trailer, grew steeper and arched the aluminum vessel into the air.
As he approached the end of the trailer at full run, he realized that the bridge was almost out of reach…he jumped, stretching his body out like a cat and slinging his belt out in front of him to catch a wire or wooden strut on the bridge.
Mary spilled onto the bridge and quickly lunged for the other side. She could see the trailer spin and twist as the logs churned and crushed it under the weight of the moving water. She could see the light of Ian’s headlamp being swallowed up by the logs and the river, and then it went out.
“Ian!” she yelled. “Ian!”
“Here!” came a voice from below the bridge.
“He’s here!” Mary said to the others, and then surprised herself by leaning out over the side.
Ian was hanging by both ends of his belt around a 2x6 strut on the bridge. Mary’s headlamp circled him like a Broadway actor.
“Give me your hand, she said, suddenly feeling several hands on her legs, holding her from falling.
Ian struggled with holding onto the belt, he just needed to swing his leg up on the strut and he could make it.
“Give me your hand, you crazy son-of-a-bitch!”
Ian looked at her for the first time.
“Let me save you this time!” she pleaded.
He put both of his hands together and combined the belt in his right hand, and then he lunged with every ounce of core strength he could muster and reached her hand. Once he had her support, he swung his leg up to the strut and pulled himself up and over the side of the bridge, where he collapsed on the wood next to Mary.
They
“HELP!” he yelled towards the bridge, his headlamp giving away his position.
Mary climbed back up the inside of the camper to reach Ian’s hand, where he pulled her through the door. She looked around for the first time, her mind fighting to process what was happening.
Trees churned and tumbling along the edge of the flotilla of logs. The camper sat as a metal island on the precipice of crusting destruction. She then looked up and could also see the bridge that Ian was talking about; but it wasn’t a normal bridge that a car passes over. It was a suspension bridge made of wire and wood. It was about 10 feet above the water, and there were people, with torches on the bridge…they were yelling at them.
“ You’ve got to hurry!” a voice yelled from the bridge.
Ian coiled the orange cable and yelled to the people on the bridge. “CATCH!”
They had about 25 yards.
“OK!” a response came back from the bridge.
They could see three or four people getting ready to catch the cord.
15 yards.
“What’s going to happen?” Mary asked. Fear gripped every fiber of her being as her headlight illuminated the fast approaching bridge.
“Just hang on and help as best as you can,” Ian demanded.
“What about you?” she pleaded.
10 yards.
Ian ignored her and stepped forward on the side of the trailer and swung his arm around like a softball pitcher and threw the coiled cable. The cord looked like an orange snake uncoiling as it sailed through the air and onto the suspension bridge.
5 yards.
Ian watched the people on the bridge catch the cord, wrap it around one of the boards and then rapidly tie it off to the bridge support. He then removed his belt as the logs and the camper and millions of gallons of water passed under the bridge.
Mary was yanked up and out over the logs and water. Her scream was one of pure panic and fear and it never let up. Ian saw her feet drag in the water for an instant as the people on the bridge adjusted to her weight and pull her up from the water. They had her. She would be rescued.
With that knowledge, Ian began to run along the back end of the trailer. The bridge passed overhead and he was flowing away at a rapid pace. He pumped his legs harder, running up the side of the trailer. The incline, created by the logs holding the trailer, grew steeper and arched the aluminum vessel into the air.
As he approached the end of the trailer at full run, he realized that the bridge was almost out of reach…he jumped, stretching his body out like a cat and slinging his belt out in front of him to catch a wire or wooden strut on the bridge.
Mary spilled onto the bridge and quickly lunged for the other side. She could see the trailer spin and twist as the logs churned and crushed it under the weight of the moving water. She could see the light of Ian’s headlamp being swallowed up by the logs and the river, and then it went out.
“Ian!” she yelled. “Ian!”
“Here!” came a voice from below the bridge.
“He’s here!” Mary said to the others, and then surprised herself by leaning out over the side.
Ian was hanging by both ends of his belt around a 2x6 strut on the bridge. Mary’s headlamp circled him like a Broadway actor.
“Give me your hand, she said, suddenly feeling several hands on her legs, holding her from falling.
Ian struggled with holding onto the belt, he just needed to swing his leg up on the strut and he could make it.
“Give me your hand, you crazy son-of-a-bitch!”
Ian looked at her for the first time.
“Let me save you this time!” she pleaded.
He put both of his hands together and combined the belt in his right hand, and then he lunged with every ounce of core strength he could muster and reached her hand. Once he had her support, he swung his leg up to the strut and pulled himself up and over the side of the bridge, where he collapsed on the wood next to Mary.
They
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