Bones of Faerie - Janni Lee Simner [37]
A bit later I heard her say, “Come on, Matthew, try it. One bark for yes, two barks for no.” Matthew growled, as if barking on command was beneath his dignity. I couldn't help it—I laughed.
The sun rose, melting the frost. To the east, a glimmer of sun off water told us a river drew near. On Samuel's map, the river was called the Meramec. I went from shoving my hands into my pockets to tying my jacket around my waist in a matter of hours.
Midmorning the land opened out. Abruptly our path met a new road, broader than any I'd ever known, heading east. Thick slabs of black rock poked through the dirt, shimmering in the sun. According to Samuel's directions, this was I-44, and it would take us most of the way to the Arch. In the distance I heard running water.
We walked three abreast on that road, making a course for the river. Cinnamon-barked birches and pale gray cottonwoods lined our way. The birches launched clusters of tiny winged seeds into the breeze, but the road was so wide they drifted to the ground on either side of us. Birch seeds were too small to do any real harm, anyway, so long as you brushed them off before they could root in your skin.
We topped a rise and saw the Meramec River below. For a few hundred yards we descended toward the water, and then, all at once at the water's edge, the road ended.
It continued on the river's other side, but a couple hundred yards of running water lay between us and the far bank. On our side, a few broken steel beams hinted at the bridge that had once spanned the distance. In the murky water around the beams, cattails splashed as they slapped at water striders. As far as I could tell the fuzzy brown stalks never hit the insects—it seemed more a game than anything else. A short way downstream, two tall metal poles stood across from each other, one on either bank. A pair of guide ropes was strung between them, one near the water, one several feet above. The ropes glinted in the sun, and when I drew closer I saw that they were metal as well, dozens of thin strands twisted into steel cord by someone from Before, more tightly than anyone could manage now. A mix of knot-work and metalwork bound the cords to the poles. I gripped the lower one—it felt strong and warm to the touch. It would hold our weight.
Matthew nosed at the shore. Allie looked from the ropes to the water and from the water to me. Her chatter fell silent, and her eyes went wide. “Maybe there's another bridge.” Her voice was high and strange. “Check the map.”
I shook my head. “The road ends here.”
“Just check.” The girl's voice cracked as she spoke.
I dug the map from my pack. The next crossing was at least a day's walk away, and there was no sign of a road to lead us from here to there.
“Too far,” Allie said, but she looked up at me as if hoping for some other answer.
“There might not be a bridge there anymore, either,” I said.
Allie nodded, looking unhappy. “What about Matthew? And Tallow?”
Tallow remained firmly seated on my shoulders, but Matthew poked a paw at the river. All at once he leaped in, swimming across in a splash of paws and wet fur. The current took him downstream a little. Once on land he trotted back upstream, put his nose to the ground, and looked at us across the water.
Watching him, Allie sighed. “Wish I was a wolf.”
I looked at her, afraid to ask my next question. “You can swim, can't you?” Everyone could swim in Franklin Falls. Father and Kate had made sure of it.
Allie drew her arms around herself. “Don't know. Never tried.”
She'd never been beyond the Wall. Of course she hadn't