Bridge to a Distant Star - Carolyn Williford [125]
Michal sniffed loudly and wiped at her nose with the frayed cuff of a worn sweatshirt. At this point, she was numb, her feelings and thoughts so blurred that she hoped—assumed—sleep would rescue her from any blips of coherency. But then the sharp memory of the pungent smell of Beth’s pooled blood came to mind … the feeling of Stephen’s hands crawling all over her … the look of deep compassion on Allistair’s face … and she nearly cried out loud. Instead, she leaned over, jamming the palms of her hands into her eyes hard enough to create vivid splashes of color against her eyelids. Until the pressure and pain made her stop.
She leaned back against the seat again, willing, insisting that sleep come to her. But as the bus rumbled through the city and ever closer to the bridge, the storm’s increasing intensity would not let her body relax. Instead, the thunder and lightning constantly jostled Michal, causing her to jump every time a particularly close strike highlighted the inside of the bus—acting like a spotlight on her and her alone, it seemed.
When a rumble of thunder and simultaneous flash of lightning felt like they actually pushed the lumbering bus sideways, Michal peered out the window, attempting to see … anything. And then her heart leapt into her throat, for she realized they were beginning to fall—Into the bay? her mind screamed. Or did she cry it out loud? Suddenly, the entire bus erupted with screams of sheer terror. They were falling … people were falling … men, women, children. All tumbling about the bus as it fell headlong into the black depths below.
Only Michal was not floundering about, for she desperately clutched the back emergency exit handle, fiercely determined to not let go. Once again she was highlighted—by the bright beams of a Mercedes falling right behind the bus. But this time, she didn’t cower from the light; instead, she sought out its glow as if it were a lighthouse. And she were the lost one following the luminous flare to safety.
Endings
A Friday morning in May 2009
Captain Luis and his men stood like dumb statues, their limbs rigid with shock. Their minds refused to believe what was before their eyes, so they merely stared—mouths gaping at the sight of the broken roadway perched precariously above and the spot where the car, van, and bus had simply disappeared into the gulping, angry gulf below. Pleading with God that no others would dive from the precipice.
Another crash of thunder resounded. A flash of light followed, highlighting the surreal terror before them. It was enough to startle the captain into action—paralysis followed by a sudden burst of energy. “I’m going to send out the Mayday,” Luis called out to his men. As he turned to run back to the pilothouse, he frantically shouted the command, “Jaurez! Everyone! I want every light we have pointed in the same direction. Where the vehicles went in—flood the entire area with light.”
Jaurez needed to yell back as the pouring rain was still pounding out a loud, steady drumbeat. “But Cap’n—there’s no way any of them—”
“Just do it, Jaurez. Now. I want the area thoroughly searched.”
Jaurez shook his head at the senseless exercise, but who was he to argue with the captain? If Captain Luis was assuaging his conscience, then so be it. He set to work, directing his men to fetch stowed search lights and lanterns, flashlights. Anything they could think of to light the area where the doomed had plunged off the bridge to their certain deaths in the water below.
Meanwhile, Captain Luis ran into the pilothouse and grabbed his radio. In a voice filled with stark terror, he shouted into the mike, “Mayday. Mayday. Coast Guard, we have a Mayday. Coast Guard, we have a Mayday.”
“Vessel calling Mayday. This is the United States Coast Guard, St. Petersburg, Florida.” The operator’s calm, measured answer was in juxtaposition to the captain’s utter panic. “What is your position and the nature of your distress?”
“This is a Mayday. The Skyway Bridge is down. Get emergency vessels out to the bridge. This is an emergency.