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.But then it came in sight and part of him wished it had deteriorated so he didn’t have to cross it.The structure was intact, but after getting out and inspecting it closer, he saw parts where the pavement had crumbled completely away and water could be seen hundreds of feet below.Maybe this bridge would last another year, or maybe it was already ruined and he just wouldn’t realize it until the tank was plummeting toward the ocean below.He had no idea if it would even support a car anymore, let alone something as heavy as an entire line of cars.So be it, he thought, trying to convince himself that falling into the ocean was as good an end as any other.It was, certainly, better than his son had been given.His mind presented him with every scenario in which he didn’t make it across the bridge.He could travel ten feet and then have the bridge collapse.The structure might support him until he was almost all the way across before dropping him into the ocean.Maybe the structure would last long enough as it fell apart for him to jump out and run for safety.Or maybe it would collapse as soon as he raised the hatch and looked out.He would be falling before he knew what was happening.The more he thought of it, the more it terrified him.Even if he did make it all the way across, he would only be on land for two miles before coming to Newport Bridge, a two-mile structure that dwarfed this one.If he made it over this first bridge, only to find the second one washed away, he would have to turn around and hope he could make it all the way across the first mile-long path, or risk being stuck in between the two waterways on a tiny island for the rest of his life.As a young man, he had imagined himself becoming a grandfather, getting grey hair and growing old while his grandchildren darted past him.He did not imagine himself dying on some little, deserted island he had never heard of before.And he certainly didn’t think he would meet his end after crashing into the water (in a tank!) from three hundred feet above.The tank inched forward until half of its weight rested at the very beginning of the structure, then, after a minute, the entire thing.“Well, no time like the present,” he said and the tank lurched forward.He kept expecting to hear the concrete crumble, the steel cables to snap, before feeling himself become weightless, free-falling toward the ocean below.Just the thought made his lunch want to come up his throat.As he fell, he would want to take a breath but be unable to do so.His head became light at the idea.Every few seconds he thought he heard a pop or a bang and expected to feel himself falling.Each time, he grabbed hold of the steering levers until his knuckles were white.It took the tank an eternity to reach the bridge’s crest.Jeffrey’s arms were shaking.His fingers ached.He felt sick to his stomach.And then, finally, the tank started down the other side.He prayed for the land to get closer, faster.And then the shore approached.He’d never been so happy to see a rocky beach.The tank was on land again.Part of him wanted an excuse to linger on the island between the two bridges so he wouldn’t have to face the next expanse so soon.At that moment, crossing another bridge seemed as good an idea as a second round of Russian Roulette.Already, the next structure was approaching.Unlike the first one, being fairly flat, this one took him in the air right away.He had no idea how high the bridge was at its peak, but just seeing it made his fingers start trembling again.How long would it take from the time the bridge gave way and the tank started falling to the time it hit water? That was the worst part.He wasn’t afraid of drowning inside the tank as it sank to the bottom of the ocean; he was afraid of the air being sucked out of his chest as he fell through the sky, helpless.His chest began to burn.He drove past an abandoned minivan, two of its four tires missing.Further up the bridge, he passed the torn remains of shredded rubber.That must have been the point where a family had given up and decided to attempt the rest of the journey by foot.The idea lingered in the back of his head that he could rev the tank’s engine to full speed and outrace the collapsing structure if it was falling from underneath him.It had been done a thousand times in action movies.The thought was fantasy, however.If he had the misfortune of feeling the structure give way underneath him as it started to fall into the ocean, he would be going with it.The machine could go faster than he had imagined, but it could never outrace time or decay or gravity.The land seemed to disappear completely as the tank pointed toward the sky.He imagined getting halfway across the bridge, only to have a small section at the very middle be missing, and then to have a section behind him dislodge after the tank rode over it.That part of the bridge would fall into the water too.He would be on a tiny sliver of pavement, suspended hundreds of feet in the air, a mile from land on either side.The thought made him wish he were wearing one of Galen’s diapers.The tank passed a pair of old bicycles strewn across the bridge like a pitiful roadblock.At one time, they had probably been Christmas presents for happy children.Where are those happy children now, he wondered? Will they ever remember how excited they were to receive those bicycles on that cold winter morning? The tank ran over both bikes, leaving behind a jumbled heap of aluminum.Further along the bridge he saw an old American flag, faded under the sun, tied to the bridge’s railing.Anyone riding a boat underneath the bridge would have looked up and remembered the pride and history of the land they were in [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.But then it came in sight and part of him wished it had deteriorated so he didn’t have to cross it.The structure was intact, but after getting out and inspecting it closer, he saw parts where the pavement had crumbled completely away and water could be seen hundreds of feet below.Maybe this bridge would last another year, or maybe it was already ruined and he just wouldn’t realize it until the tank was plummeting toward the ocean below.He had no idea if it would even support a car anymore, let alone something as heavy as an entire line of cars.So be it, he thought, trying to convince himself that falling into the ocean was as good an end as any other.It was, certainly, better than his son had been given.His mind presented him with every scenario in which he didn’t make it across the bridge.He could travel ten feet and then have the bridge collapse.The structure might support him until he was almost all the way across before dropping him into the ocean.Maybe the structure would last long enough as it fell apart for him to jump out and run for safety.Or maybe it would collapse as soon as he raised the hatch and looked out.He would be falling before he knew what was happening.The more he thought of it, the more it terrified him.Even if he did make it all the way across, he would only be on land for two miles before coming to Newport Bridge, a two-mile structure that dwarfed this one.If he made it over this first bridge, only to find the second one washed away, he would have to turn around and hope he could make it all the way across the first mile-long path, or risk being stuck in between the two waterways on a tiny island for the rest of his life.As a young man, he had imagined himself becoming a grandfather, getting grey hair and growing old while his grandchildren darted past him.He did not imagine himself dying on some little, deserted island he had never heard of before.And he certainly didn’t think he would meet his end after crashing into the water (in a tank!) from three hundred feet above.The tank inched forward until half of its weight rested at the very beginning of the structure, then, after a minute, the entire thing.“Well, no time like the present,” he said and the tank lurched forward.He kept expecting to hear the concrete crumble, the steel cables to snap, before feeling himself become weightless, free-falling toward the ocean below.Just the thought made his lunch want to come up his throat.As he fell, he would want to take a breath but be unable to do so.His head became light at the idea.Every few seconds he thought he heard a pop or a bang and expected to feel himself falling.Each time, he grabbed hold of the steering levers until his knuckles were white.It took the tank an eternity to reach the bridge’s crest.Jeffrey’s arms were shaking.His fingers ached.He felt sick to his stomach.And then, finally, the tank started down the other side.He prayed for the land to get closer, faster.And then the shore approached.He’d never been so happy to see a rocky beach.The tank was on land again.Part of him wanted an excuse to linger on the island between the two bridges so he wouldn’t have to face the next expanse so soon.At that moment, crossing another bridge seemed as good an idea as a second round of Russian Roulette.Already, the next structure was approaching.Unlike the first one, being fairly flat, this one took him in the air right away.He had no idea how high the bridge was at its peak, but just seeing it made his fingers start trembling again.How long would it take from the time the bridge gave way and the tank started falling to the time it hit water? That was the worst part.He wasn’t afraid of drowning inside the tank as it sank to the bottom of the ocean; he was afraid of the air being sucked out of his chest as he fell through the sky, helpless.His chest began to burn.He drove past an abandoned minivan, two of its four tires missing.Further up the bridge, he passed the torn remains of shredded rubber.That must have been the point where a family had given up and decided to attempt the rest of the journey by foot.The idea lingered in the back of his head that he could rev the tank’s engine to full speed and outrace the collapsing structure if it was falling from underneath him.It had been done a thousand times in action movies.The thought was fantasy, however.If he had the misfortune of feeling the structure give way underneath him as it started to fall into the ocean, he would be going with it.The machine could go faster than he had imagined, but it could never outrace time or decay or gravity.The land seemed to disappear completely as the tank pointed toward the sky.He imagined getting halfway across the bridge, only to have a small section at the very middle be missing, and then to have a section behind him dislodge after the tank rode over it.That part of the bridge would fall into the water too.He would be on a tiny sliver of pavement, suspended hundreds of feet in the air, a mile from land on either side.The thought made him wish he were wearing one of Galen’s diapers.The tank passed a pair of old bicycles strewn across the bridge like a pitiful roadblock.At one time, they had probably been Christmas presents for happy children.Where are those happy children now, he wondered? Will they ever remember how excited they were to receive those bicycles on that cold winter morning? The tank ran over both bikes, leaving behind a jumbled heap of aluminum.Further along the bridge he saw an old American flag, faded under the sun, tied to the bridge’s railing.Anyone riding a boat underneath the bridge would have looked up and remembered the pride and history of the land they were in [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]