33: George — Burning Bridges

While Jamie ferried tools and poles, and basked in the physical strength bestowed by the lower g-forces, hoisting weight that stumped the average man in normal climes, Cynthia claimed the role of guard to the remainder of everyone’s food. Taking her cue from both Jamie and the dregs of the Crayson gang, she packed the unopened chips and chocolates in a packing crate and sat on it in a corner. Even Zeke, for all he’d endeared himself to her, had to respect he wasn’t getting access to snacks unless she and Holden gave him the go-ahead.

“I’m getting hungry doing all this work.” He said, after collecting a whole two poles.

“No food.” She said. “Have some herbal tea to tide you over.

While the food was out of bounds, the ample rations of bottled drinks allowed a little more leeway. She poured him a cup of something strong and he gagged with the first sip.

“What is this shit?”

Cynthia bit her lip. “Three peppermints melted in boiling water. It’s all I got.”

When Jamie returned from dropping off an armful of poles, he shook Zeke’s shoulder to urge him on. “C’mon, Mr. Travers. I have one more bunch to take.”

Zeke groaned, but stood and took them. He offered his seat to Jamie and rummaged in his pocket, and pulled out a bag of marbles.

“Found more thingamabobs.” He said. “You like those, right?”

Jamie’s eyes lit up and he snatched the bag from Zeke’s hands with an “Ooh, thanks!” He took it to a corner where his kittens climbed and explored, and tried to get them to play.

“Look at you.” Cynthia said. “All crabby and pinchy outside, but a soft touch with the boy.”

“He’s like this son I never had.” Zeke said, watching him play with the cats and marbles. He looked at the poles Jamie had abandoned on his lap. “I suppose the other one’s gonna want this.”

He dragged them over to the growing workforce, a gang of arguing individuals constructing their new bridge while their other half protested. He laid his consignment on top of the mishmash without a word and didn’t bother interrupting them for further instructions.

“Laura, Cazz, you’re betraying us.” The new, self appointed leader of the Crayson gang said.

“Did we have anything to betray?” Cazz said.

“All we stand for. We’re better than this. We don’t need to lower ourselves to working for other people. That’s prostitution. You’re a prostitute.”

George barged between the two factions with another pole and swung it over his shoulder in a lazy arc. The gang’s outspoken spokesman ducked away as it slotted into place. George asked the girls to hold it while he tightened the clamps.

“This guy said he could save us.” Laura said, over her shoulder. “We’re helping, not serving him.”

“People need to stop saying that.” George said. “I told you, if you’re willing to pitch in, we can all help save each other. Y’all need to stop looking for heroes.”

Laura and Cazz rasped their tongues at their friends and followed George’s next set of instructions. As the bridge grew in length and strength, so did the attention it received. By the time it was complete, most of Cheppard’s flock stood around it, appraising it with the experienced of two manic days while their preacher sat on a table in a café, assuring those sitting with him they would be at the head of the queue into the hereafter for holding their faith.

George watched him from outside. The pastor’s words were muted by the crowd and wind, but his instructions to his flock came with visual instructions. Cheppard mimicked a jump from the table using a soda can, and caught it with an outstretched hand. When he placed the can back on the table, it rolled off, and split on the ceiling.

“Nice example, preacher.” The Crayson heir said.

Cheppard ignored him and picked the can up. Fizz spurted from the edge of the seal and he dropped it on the table, and like before, it rolled the same way. He caught it before it fell this time, and put it down on a different table. His flock asked what je was doing as he watched it roll in the same direction once more.

“Same way, every time.” He said. Excuse me, everyone, I have to find my daughter.”

He left them confused in the kitchen and searched around George’s build. Eventually, he found Rhea dragging a pole through the growing crowd waiting at the station’s exit.

“Darling, what are you doing?” he said, taking the pole from her. “You’re expecting. You shouldn’t be lifting anything heavy. Why isn’t your so-called husband doing that?”

“Dad, it weighs almost nothing. Here, look.”

She let go of the pole and he fumbled at its unexpected lightness. The whole bar, for all its metal length, weighed half a bag of sugar.

“I see. Very clever. I bet this makes you feel strong. Is this how Mr. Crayson’s tempting you to help him?”

“Dad, I’d have followed you before. But now we’re having a baby, I can’t. If I can do anything at all to make sure it survives, I’ll do it.”

“You don’t need to make that choice yet.” Cheppard said. “Follow your husband. I’m sure we can come to an agreement.”

The new bridge progressed at a reasonable rate, almost fully built by the time Holden took over from George. Wendy gave him a smile as she handed her tools to one of his crew, and wiped her face with a sleeve that didn’t clean her skin so much as smear the dirt thinner across her skin The vestibule was growing ripe.

“Ursula, pay attention, we’ve started.” Holden barked. “Yandi, feed that bar through. Kerrie, Peter, lock it in place. Marv, grab more clamps.”

Wendy didn’t head to Cynthia’s box with her fellow workers, but stood to one side as Holden’s crew fell into line.

“Wow, you really lit a fire under their asses.” she said. “And you know your shit. Guess you really are more than a greasy monkey.”

“You mean grease monkey?” Holden said.

“No. Why does everyone always correct that? I’m just saying, you’re doing a good job.”

“And why does everyone always seem surprised when I do?”

“Probably because they met you.”

“Oh, that hurts. Especially when I’ve never done anything to sour my professional reputation.”

“No, just your personal one. To me, you’ve always been that sweaty guy who passes out drunk on my brother’s couch. I never knew you led building teams at work. I thought you were just a laborer like George.”

“You do know your brother is a senior partner in the firm, right?”

“He is? When did that happen?”

“Right around the time the world ended. It kind of put a damper on our celebrations.”

“Huh. He actually became a worthwhile Travers. Maybe I don’t give up on all men.”

Holden flashed her his winning grin. “Well, if you’re looking for someone to ruin your delusions.”

Wendy held her laugh back for almost three seconds.

. . .

Rhea found George collecting his rations from Cynthia. As he chowed down, she stroked his stubble and stole a chip. George handed her the rest with a sigh.

“What?” she said. “I only wanted one.”

“Nothing. Just eat it. The two of you need it more than I do.”

“Why do men never say what they’re thinking?”

“I am. You’re pregnant, so don’t work so hard. You’re already building another human inside you.”

Rhea stuffed the packet into his pocket. “I don’t get you. You shout at me for being pregnant, then you fight through a goddamn inferno to propose. Next, you tell me we’re both selfish assholes, and now you’re encouraging us for save each other, and now you’re telling me to take it easy, which I can only assume is because you actually care, and then refuse to tell me something as simple as what you’re thinking.”

“The bridge is done!” Holden roared. His team whooped and cheered with him. “George, you’re on cable duty. Come on, people, let’s get this across the gap.”

George fished the packet from his pocket and placed them in Rhea’s hand. She scowled as he left her to help Holden.

Holden’s crew pushed the completed bridge out across the north side exit while George’s team once again pulled on cables to raise the outer end. The drone returned, recording their efforts as the bridge slid out in jarring bursts, squeaking and scraping across the archway of the vestibule, wobbling and veering and swinging where it shouldn’t, but through the combined efforts of all involved and the continuous barking of two manic leaders, and the sheer number of attempts to land it, the other end of the bridge slid onto the underside of the opposing block’s upper floor parking garage, to an exhausted cheer.

“Wait, why aren’t we heading down the block?” George said.

Holden pointed to the building above the garage. “That’s the Stadium. We can cross the distance of five blocks going through it, and we won’t have to dismantle and rebuild bridges on the way.”

“Ah, so we only have to build it twice.”

“Once. We just have to carry it through there.”

Holden slapped George on the back and crossed over to secure the scaffold to its new destination. When he was done, he whistled for the first line of survivors to cross. Two factions gathered at its front end.

“I’m begging you.” Cheppard said. “Stop this madness.”

“You’re free to come with us.” George said. “We’re not stopping you.”

“Dad, please.” Rhea said. “Don’t do this to me.”

“I’m sorry, but I know I’m right.”

George wrapped his arm around Cheppard’s shoulder and pulled him out to the start of the bridge.

“Look, padre. Even if you and yours want to stay in one place and prepare yourselves for the big jump, I’m sure you’ll find it far more comfortable over there. The ceiling’s flat and not these metal sticks. You could even sit or lie down there.”

“And give you more opportunities to sow doubt in our minds?”

“And give you the same opportunity to do likewise.”

One of Cheppard’s followers stepped up. “Actually, that does sound a lot more comfortable. I don’t think there’s any more harm waiting there than here. I mean, my ass has bruises from sitting on these railings and I’m sure I’m not the only one whose legs could do with a good stretch before we go.”

A murmur of agreement rose from the faithful faction. Cheppard stood in the center of them all, juggling stares and judgement, then shook his head and crossed the bridge. His disciples followed him across, to the surprise of Holden on the other side. Nobody in the vestibule had expected it, either.

As everyone but George disembarked from the bridge, Wendy ushered them forwards, keeping them moving so they didn’t clog the entrance. Holden gave her a wry smile in gratitude and she guided everyone to underside of the stadium. As they passed the entrance, she pointed to a flagstone laid by one of the strongmen who first competed in the old arena before it was rebuilt, and asked for any works of art still intact to be taken along with them.

“Some of these are priceless.” She said, peeling a large photo of a muscular man in a thong from its frame and rolling it into a tube.

“You worked here?” Eddie said. “You seem to know your way around.”

“I used to play back in highschool.” Wendy said.

He gave her gangly body a once over. “Football?”

“Violin. We backed the National Anthem.”

The underside of the arena was a series of corridors and rooms. Wendy took everyone to the home team suite, a museum dedicated to wins and events of local heroes. Statues had been commissioned by the mayor, and though their features had melted, the marble poses remained intact. They hung like stalactites from above, and of the few whose faces still bore features, their expressions were twisted into angry mockeries of the competitive spirit. Wendy gave a brief description of each one, until they found an oddly posed form at the furthest end, without a pedestal. She turned people away.

“That’s not a statue.” she said to Rhea. “Don’t let the kid see it.”

“What is it?” Rhea said.

“I think that’s a person covered in stone. And I think that’s their dog.”

. . .

Back at the bridge, George untied the station side cables and scurried across to help Holden reel the bridge in. It slid across easily, and their crews hoisted it on their shoulders and simply walked through the stadium’s corridors, around to the other side. Unlike the previous day’s efforts, they were ready to set their new bridge going within ten minutes. George’s crew held the cables again, and Holden’s pushed it out. They touched base with the new block in record time.

“I don’t want to deal with all the heart stirring.” Holden said. “So I’ll go ahead to tie the other side down. You lot say your goodbyes to those idiots.”

He left everyone standing, and they left to find out who was staying behind. George met Jamie and the Crayson gang first. The kid and a stoner played with his marbles while the girls petted the kittens and kept them from leaving the area.

“Hey,” Jamie said. “Have you guys got any food for the cats?”

“Do we look like a charity to you, kid?” their outspoken spokesman said.

“Sorry, everything in here’s just for us.” Said the marble player.

Cheppard’s shadow fell upon them and he plucked a large marble from Jamie’s bag. It rolled sideways across the ceiling and he nodded to himself. “Always towards the mountain. Child, do you mind if I borrow this for a few days?”

“Sure.” Jamie said. “I got plenty.”

Cheppard thanked him and moved away, but caught himself first and turned to the gang. “You children should think about your future. Ask yourselves, do you really need what you have in that box?”

“Need?” a girl said. “Yes. Yes we do.”

“Addiction is a lie your body tells you. Focus on the soul, that part of you that’s better than the flesh.”

“You think you know what it’s like to see the spiritual side of life, eh, holy man? Try a shot of this.” The outspokesman said. “Why do you think we guard the box and stay out of the way. We’re helping keep it alive helping. Your way is bullshit.”

“Hey,” George said. “Watch the attitude. If we fail, everything this holy man says might be all you have left.”

Cheppard gave George a look. “First you contradict me, then you acknowledge what I say. What’s with you?”

“Don’t start.” George said. “You sound like your daughter.”

Cheppard let out a growl of frustration. “I know I sound like a crackpot to you. Most of you don’t get it, but I’ve surrounded myself with this for decades. I see all the subtle patterns you keep missing. I can physically see it all unfolding like it was ordained.”

George gestured to the side. “We should talk before we split.”

Cheppard left the gang and followed George to the main bowl of the stadium. The seats ringed a dome above their heads, a roof of pitch and grass and an oval pool of clouds beneath.

“I want you to give Rhea your blessing.” George said. “Tell her to go with me. Tell me you don’t want her to die.”

“Of course I don’t!” Cheppard said. He stood at the door to the stairs above and looked down. “But unlike you, I think death isn’t the end.”

“And I know death is, and that I’ll do anything to save my family.”

“That’s commendable, and it’s exactly how I feel. And you are my family now. I think I need to save you as well. For God’s sake, look around you. The buildings are falling, the world is literally upside-down, it’s pure pandemonium. Everything I read is coming true, and the longer we keep trying to stay alive, the eorse it’ll be for us. We can’t outlive this. And if everything else has come true, it’s only reasonable to assume it all will. So if my daughter is going to die, I’d do anything to make sure she goes to heaven. I’d even damn myself.”

Cheppard shut his eyes and flung his arms open, channeling every last spark of faith to express himself to George, hoping, praying that something, anything would get through to his son in-law. And something did.

George looked round at the empty corridor. “What do you mean, anything?”

Cheppard hung his head, eyes still closed and arms open in front of the swirling vortex of clouds.

He whispered. “Whatever it took.”

George recoiled at the words and backed away, unsure what the Cheppard was getting at. What was he saying? What was he capable of?

The pastor didn’t open his eyes as George circled behind him and the roar of blood drowned out his thoughts. He looked down at the sky, the ravenous, churning vortex Cheppard had decided to feed with his own flesh and blood and soul, and George’s own body came to a decision for him. He raised his arms and stepped forward, arms out elbows unlocked but rigid, palms aimed at Cheppard’s back. A quick push and it would be over. A small shove, and half their problems could be solved. He stood behind Cheppard in ready poise, half willing himself to go through with it, half of him fighting the urge.

Eddie’s laugh echoed down the corridor, followed by one of the girls’. George and Cheppard turned as they rounded the corner and stopped, and George hooked his hands over Cheppard’s shoulders and pulled him back with a gulp.

“Maybe take a step away from the edge, padre.” He said. “Your, uh, flock won’t know what to do if you go ahead of them.”

“I think this place is occupied.” The girl said to Eddie. “And I better get back. Thanks for layover, big boy.”

She kissed him and sauntered off, and Eddie gave George and Cheppard an embarrassed grin.

“She just finished her shift.” He said. “Thought I’d give her a guided tour of the stadium before I started mine. So many of our sports stars… you guys are busy. I’ll, uh, I’ll go start my shift early. See you there, George.”

He left them alone again, and Cheppard clamped a hand on George’s shoulder. They stood side by side, too tense to do anything but further their rigidity.

“You want to save my daughter.” Cheppard said.

“Well, duh.” George said. “Why do you think I’m doing all this?”

“Then I’ll help you. I’ll do what I can to make sure she makes it. But you promise me something in return. If it looks like I’m right, if it’s absolutely certain we won’t make it, you convince her and all your followers to join me.”

“I’m not sending them to their deaths.”

“I said if it’s absolutely certain. If it’s absolutely certain we are going to die, you’ll have nothing to lose.”

George thought about it. “Fine. But only if we both agree we’re going to die.”

“Good.” Cheppard said. He shook George’s hand. “I expect to see you join me in just a few days.”

He left George standing at the doorway. George rolled his eyes. “You really don’t like to lose, do you?”

Cheppard scoffed before je rounded the corner. “This isn’t a battle of wills, son. I’m not trying to beat you or rub it in your face. This is about survival, not just in this life, but the next.”

George shook his head and followed him. “You know I don’t believe in any of that, right?”

Cheppard smirked and fell into step beside him. “That’s absolutely fine. I’ll rub it in your face when we’re dead. Partners?”

Cheppard offered George a hand. George hi-fived it. “Fine. Partners.”

They went back to explain their new alliance to the rest of the survivors. Along the way, they found the Crayson gang had found a nest of vending machines, and were filling their chest with its looted contents.

”“Hey, if you’re not going to help with anything,” Cheppard said. “You could at least share food.”

“Fuck off. We’re not interfering with you, so don’t interfere with us.”

“Yeah, we aren’t hurting anyone. We’re not doing anything.”

“Exactly,” Holden said, appearing from around a corner. “You aren’t doing anything. Why should we do all the work while you just sit there getting high? At least offer the odd blunt.”

‘Don’t try to reason with them.” Cheppard said. “You can’t with some people.”

“Didn’t you already get our girls?” the outspokesman said. “Haven’t you stolen enough from us without taking our food and gear as well?”

Cheppard, George and Holden walked off, leaving the gang bickering between themselves. Back in the parking lot, by the bridge, George called for everyone’s attention and invited Cheppard up with him to explain their coalition.

“Guys, we’ve come to an agreement.” George said. “Pastor Cheppard will continue with us for the foreseeable future.”

“And I’ll be there if you need a friendly ear.” Cheppard said. “Or a hand when—”

“If.”

“—If the world completely ends first.”

The pastor’s faction shared confused glances. So did Holden’s. Then they shared them with each other. But as George and Cheppard assured their respective followers, they fell back into an easy truce, sure that the other side would soon be proved wrong.

They crossed the bridge as friends, two factions forming one class. The Crayson gang flittered across between them, ignoring the scowls from both sides. When Cheppard’s followers were halfway across, a tremor rumbled through the city and shook the bridge.

Wendy took it for the vibrations of walking across, but the tremor grew, and within minutes, it was an earthquake. Those behind her screamed and she turned to see several buildings along the coast drop into the abyss. The road between the station and stadium cracked open, wide, with a discerning orange glow. Jamie raised the camera to his eye and zoomed in on the orange, glowing lines. Through his lens, lava dripped into the sky from the seabed, fireballs falling into the psychedelic cloud formations.

“I think we’re in trouble.” He said to the drone. Whoever controlled it made it nod.

A crack of thunder gave his words gravitas and a streak of lightning split the sky above. Except it wasn’t the sky. The lightning was a crack, and the crack was through the Earth.

“Keep heading towards the mountains.” Holden said. “The ground will be thicker there.”

“What about the coast?” Wendy said. “We’re on an island, remember? The terrain between us and the mountains is seabed. It’ll be as thin on that sode as it is out there.”

“What are you asking me for? We’ll burn that bridge when we cross it. All I’m trying to do is keep ahead of falling buildings and lava.”

They hurried everyone across to the next area, an easily navigable shopping arcade that spanned the next block. The bridge led to the underside of one of two parallel internal balconies. They ran through the center, between stores, until they rounded the corners at the opposite side, at the street. It was a mall in a tunnel, once covered by a glass roof, now nothing more than a series of perches for starved seagulls. The birds didn’t even have the energy to fly, and their caws and screeches were dry coughs in the gloom. Once again, the crews only had to carry the bridge to its next location.

“We’re too short.” Cazz said, unable to help hoist the bridge on her shoulders. “You got anything else we can do?”

“See if you find food.” George said.

Laura and Cazz were happy with the task, and left to search the arcade while the others laid the scaffold.

“Look at you two.” Their friend said. “How’s it feel being a lapdog?”

The girls responded with raised fingers, too tired to argue. As the dawn light sunk from behind the lack of sea, an unspoken understanding fell across the group. They needed somewhere flat to rest, and the next leg of the journey would require physical exertion compared to the luxury they’d experienced in the last hour. Those carrying the bridge settled it across the street, wary of the tremors still faint aboveground and the widening cracks that glowed from within, and crossed over one last time. The end had slotted into a window. They found themselves in a staff corridor. There were no signs indicating what the building was for.

When Holden returned from tethering the previous end in place, he collapsed at the head of the bridge and moaned.

“Can we sleep now?” He said. “We just walked through a kind of mall, right? Was there a bed store? Anyone have any food? Real food, not potato chips.”

“Your uncle’s goons do.” George said.

“Oh, yeah. Hey, goons, give me something to eat.”

The Crayson gang were hoisting the chest across the bridge. “You want what’s in here, help us move this crate.”

Fuck off, I just built you a damn bridge.”

“You could have made it more user friendly.”

From inside the tunnel, Cheppard tapped their leader’s shin.

“Gyargh! Why are you there?”

I’m waiting for you to cross so I can do the same.” Cheppard said “If you’re going to be a while with your box, could I perhaps squeeze past?”

The gang moved their feet so the pastor could crawl through. 

“How about a trade?” he said, once he stood on the other side. “You share your spoils with us and you could sit around one of our fires and enjoy some company.”

“We’ll start our own, thanks.” The outspoken spokesman said. “In fact, we’ll sit out right here. Keep an eye on our gear.”

The pastor shook his head. “You’re sitting on scaffolding. It’s not very comfortable.”

“We’ll manage.”

. . .

While Cynthia dispensed the last of the chips to a queue, along with a single piece of candy for dessert, a handful of volunteers discussed sleeping arrangements. The corridors of the building they were in had been concrete, and through the slops left on the rebar, the back of a cafe could be seen. Its stores were hidden away behind deformed, stone gloop locked shutters, next to a tourist focused novelty shop. They raided them for anything that would help. When they returned, loaded with packs of lilos and other inflatables, Holden made a display of public gratitude. There was even a dinghy for Jamie.

 “Listen, everyone,” Holden said. “You did fine work and without complications. With our combined efforts we’ve successfully navigated a sports center, a parking lot and a mall, crossed five blocks worth of roads and done it all with just two-point-four bridges. It has been my personal pleasure and honor to work with such fine, upstanding people, and as the boss of O’Toole Construction—”

“Partner.” George said.

“—I, and my full senior business partner, Mister Travers, here, would have been delighted, in the normal running of a somewhat steady economy and fully running media franchises, to elect you all for raises and bonuses befitting such an awe inspiring feat of engineering, as well as all its accompanying fame and recognition.”

He beamed at the crowd

“What?” someone said.

George translated. “Good job everyone.”

Holden raised his hands as they laughed. “For now, I suggest we look for food and water and try to get some sleep. Ladies?”

Laura hooked her arm under Holden’s and Cazz pulled George to his feet. “C’mon, we found a storeroom full of bread and chips in the back. There’s no water but there was a stand with some stale cookies. A few have already been stolen by seagulls, though.”

Wendy shot Holden a sneer of disgust as he was dragged past the spot she’d saved for him beside her.

Rhea glared from her other side. “Excuse me, we’re sitting right here.”

“What?” Holden said. “I’m just going to find cookies and chat with our favorite new pupils is all.”

“Yeah,” George said. “I’m pretty hungry after all that.”

Rhea stomped past him in the opposite direction. “Well you go enjoy yourself. I’m going to sit with Eddie. At least he knows how to treat a lady.”

“He certainly knows how to give a lady treats.” Wendy said. “I think I’ll join you.”

Rhea and Wendy left George to “go fraternize with Holden and a pair of groupies.” Cazz and Laura led them to the back where packs of chips lay scattered and crushed, yet mostly sealed. There was enough for everybody, and they gathered them in boxes to pass around. Halfway through, George caught Rhea laughing at one of Eddie’s jokes. The survivors had congregated in front of the café, in an atrium that had once been sunlit by a glass dome, now just a circular hole surrounded by smashed dining furniture. He saw Wendy blow Holden a kiss from across the passage.

“Exactly what’s going on between you and my sister? George said.

“I’m simply taking advantage of our situation,” Holden said. “But not of dear Wendy. I happen to be entirely interested in your sister as a person, and in case you’ve forgotten your earlier speech, the woman in your life is the source of your motivation. I’d like a taste of that, too.”

“I guess that’s okay.”

Holden shifted uncomfortably. “I think I’ll even ask her to go steady.”

“Okay, but you know the drill. Mistreat her, I’ll break your legs, yada… yada.. yada.”

Holden rubbed his stomach. “You need to relax. Try to work out your feelings, especially if you don’t want to lose that very love that inspires you.”

“Got any sage advice?”

“Yeah, get out of my way. Those cookies went right through me.”

Holden stood, hunched over. George stepped back and reached over to rub his friend’s back.

“You gonna hurl?”

“No, but there’s some seagulls down on the back room roof supports. I’m going to go get my revenge.”

George’s face crinkled up. “Ew. I’m gonna find Rhea.”

He left Holden to aim at the gulls, power walking around the corner before he could hear anything that would disturb his stomach. He focused his senses in the opposite direction, where Cheppard stood on the bridge, preaching to Cazz and Laura, and the to their annoyance, the rest of the Crayson gang. They sat huddled under quilts the girls had found, trapped on the bridge where they couldn’t escape the pastor’s sermon.

“…and shall cast them into a furnace of fire—”

“Hey, there’s George!” Laura said. “Sorry, pastor, but we need to plan tomorrow’s, uh, plan. With George. Right now. Sorry Thanks for the story. Our friends here should definitely hear more, though.”

The two girls squeezed past the pastor, leaving him to lecture their crying friends, and hooked their arms under George’s in a bid to gain an escort back to the main group. Rhea’s teeth clenched when she saw them and she turned her back when he smiled. George frowned and let the girls go.

“Hey, what’s with the attitude?” he said. “The girls just wanted an excuse to leave your dad’s sermon.”

“Oh, that’s right. My dad is the one causing our problems.”

“Are we having any problems?”

“I don’t know George, are we?”

George thought about it for a moment, then sat between her and an uncomfortably silent Eddie.

“No, I don’t want any.”

Across the fire, Cynthia gave a sweet to Jamie.

“I notice you and the kid don’t seem to be as exhausted as the rest of us.” Eddie said. “What’s your secret?”

Cynthia smiled. “I’ve been a prepper for a good few years now. I got good at rationing food.”

“Prepper?”

“Someone who prepared for times like these.”

Eddie cocked his head. “I didn’t think anyone could prepare for this.”

“Oh, I’m sure there are other pockets of survivors out there. Or more likely, in some Bunkers somewhere. Like I would have been if my basement hadn’t flooded with stone.”

“Exactly. Nobody could have predicted that would happen.”

“What about the Kinsley Foundation? They seemed pretty prepared.”

Eddie nodded. “Personally, I think they caused it.”

“Or maybe they knew what was going to happen the same way my dad did,” Rhea said. “And just didn’t save the unworthy.”

George shook his head. “The Foundation saved the smartest and healthiest. That’s practical thinking, and—”

“George!” Cazz screamed. “Holden! Help! We need help!”

“—I’m never gonna finish a sentence, am I?”

“They’re on fire!” Laura said.

“Fire?”

George leapt over everyone’s heads and dashed to the corner. A small crowd had already gathered, blocking the path between him and the fire. They screamed at each other to do something. Some screamed orders, others screamed for help. Some just screamed. George pushed through them to the edge of the bridge. It was bent in half, the middle fallen, held together by a single clamp.

“Nobody step forward.” George said. That won’t take anybody else’s weight.”

The Crayson gang’s chest was an inferno. Their outspokesman’s clothes had caught fire. The drone danced around him, filming him from every angle as he thrashed and stripped and screamed and blocked the way, and the other gang members lashed at his body with their blankets and told him to drop and roll. Instead, he barreled into his friends, and pushed the box off the edge of the bridge. One screamed and grabbed for it, another tried to smother their burning leader in a quilt.

“What the hell’s going on?” Holden said, barging in from the back.

“Hell is exactly what’s going on.” Cheppard said from the side. “And that’s why these sinners are burning.”

“Someone find water!”

Cheppard placed a marble by his foot and pointed as it rolled away from the burning gang. “Always in the same direction. The slothful are being punished.”

Wendy punched him, sending him crashing into the crowd. Two gang members quelled the flames on their leader’s clothes, while the last heaved the box, still burning on one side, back onto the bridge. Smoke poured from inside, a mixture of familiar scents and acrid compounds. One unhitched it and a column of black smoke poured out.

“Um, everything in the bottles is boiling.” He said.

The drone flew away as the rest of the gang, including their flash fried leader, rushed over to see.

“Oh, shit.” He said.

And the box exploded.

The eruption of green flame knocked them flying off the bridge, and knocked out the last clamp holding it together. With a rending squeal, the two halves of the bridge twisted forward into the air between the buildings. Both side were tethered, but the break was closer to the survivors’ side. The larger, further half, fell. Its cables snagged on the the load bearing structures, and along with the last of the Crayson gang and their precious box, fell flaming into the churning clouds. Holden peered over the edge and screamed.

“No! No! Nonononononononono!” he cried. “You idiots! You fucking, stupid, self-centred, ingrates!”

George and Wendy pulled him back as everyone processed what had happened. Holden shrugged the siblings off and leaned over the edge again.

“That was over half our scaffolding.”