Page 67 of Raven's Curse
He tightened his hold, hand cramping, his grip loosening from the rain. He tried curling Hodges toward the lip, the sheer weight countering his efforts. “Damn it, Hodges, help me. Use your other hand.”
Hodges hung there, smiling, staring at the ocean as if it held some form of salvation. “Still trying to be the hero. Even after all I’ve done.” He reached up — grabbed Chase’s forearm. “Rhett called out for you. At the end. Your name was the last thing he said.”
Bile crested Chase’s throat, but he swallowed it. “I’m not letting go.”
“Then, let’s both go for a ride.”
He twisted, his jacket slipping free from Chase’s fist as he wrapped his fingers around Chase’s hoodie — pulled. The momentum split the root holding their weight, the unforgiving force pulling him down.
He scrambled for a handhold, nails scratching against the stone, toes digging into the mud before the world shifted and everything rushed past.
Chapter Eighteen
Greer watched Chase’s silhouette fade into the rain and the fog, his footsteps crushed beneath the roar of the water as it rushed beneath the bridge, the dark mass churning with logs and brush.
Buck moved in beside her, shielding his face from the driving rain. “I’m not sure that bridge is sound.”
She gave it a once-over. The old wood looked tired, beaten, as if waiting for the right stressor to pack it in. But the cable handrails were taut, the weathered planks cracked but firm. “Hodges walked over it. Dragged Atticus across it, too.”
“I know but…” Buck tapped his temple. “He sees ghosts, too. Misses what’s right in front of him.”
Greer studied Buck, seeing him in a slightly different light. One she’d delve into once they’d gotten Atticus free and on this side of the bridge. “We can’t leave Atticus over there. He’s already shivering. Just… take this. Keep broadcasting our location and that we need backup. Pray they can hear us.”
Buck palmed her radio, started talking, as Greer moved to the end of the bridge, testing out the first few planks. The wood creaked, the entire bridge swaying with the gusting winds, but the boards seemed solid. Trustworthy.
She ventured out, taking each step slowly. Methodically. Distributing her weight in case one of them gave way. Water spit at her from between the cracks, slicking the wood as she inched her way across, the metal cable sliding through her closed fist.
She crested the halfway point, started picking up speed, when lightning spread across the sky, everything around her standing on end. She froze, waiting for the moment to pass when another fork shot out of the clouds, flashing bright white as it struck a guy-wire, exploded in a ball of sparks.
A metallic crack lit the air as the bridge shook, the resulting vibration humming through to her bones. The nails on the planks hissed as electricity strummed through the wood, the high-pitched tone singing around her. The right handrail twanged, the anchor bolt on the far side shearing beneath the strain as mud and gravel sloughed into the ravine, tumbling into the raging river. The cable sagged, then dropped, hitting the wooden planks with a resounding snap. Splitting the one beneath her heel in half.
Greer scrambled for a secure hold, most of the planks behind her crumbling into the water, leaving only splinters of the wood still held beneath the nails. Buck waved her back, but she knew she’d never make it.
Instead, she continued forward. Slowly, planting each step before taking another. Staying low. Alert. Ready to bolt to the other side at even an inkling of more trouble.
The rain kicked up, soaking through her clothes, running in rivulets down her neck. She neared the other side, still shuffling like a damn drunk, when a log rose out of the water, tumbling over itself as it rushed toward the bridge.
Greer dove for the edge, wedged her fingers through a crack — locked them around one of the last boards a moment before the massive stump crashed into the bridge, splintering the support beams before continuing on, taking half the structure with it.
The remaining section dropped, smacking the surface like a skipping stone before twisting with the current, more of the planks tearing free. She hit hard, mud spraying across her face, the lower half of her body quickly submerging. More debris clawed at her clothes, nearly pulled her off before she reached for the next board — dragged her ass out of the water.
Shivers raked her body as she collapsed on the far bank, chest heaving, every breath misting in the thick air. Atticus called her name, the desperate tone snapping her back. She pushed to her feet, stumbled over to him. Skin pale, lips a cool shade of blue, he looked more ghost than man. An obvious head wound glared up at her, his hair sticky and matted with blood.
She crouched beside him, checked his pulse. “Atticus? Can you hear me?”
He grunted, lifting his right ankle. “I’m not dead yet, Hudson. But that bastard, Hodges, tied me to the damn post. This entire section’s undercut. Only a matter of time before it collapses.”
She nodded as she removed a knife from her belt. “Let’s get you free, then we’ll assess.”
“Assess what? The bridge is gone. No other recourse but to take shelter in the tower until Mac or Foster get their asses out this way.”
Greer laughed. “I can always count on you for your positive outlook.”
“I’m old. Still breathing is about as positive as I can get.”
“You’re not old, you’re crotchety. Now, hold still.”
It took a few passes to slice through the zip-ties, the blade slipping in her grip from the rain, the deep-seated cold seeping into her bones. Atticus shook out his wrists once she’d freed his hands, looking more than a bit relieved.
