The Bridge | A Short Story

 

Amber

Sweat matted my skin, making it feel hot and sticky. 

     I picked up my pace as the old train bridge came into view. 

     Mom said you could see it well from the road, but the embankment didn't seem that steep. 

     I descended the slope that led into an over flown creek, small rocks and twigs biting into my bare feet. The murky water traveled under the bridge, and the tunnel's large arch seemed to drink it in.

     I stood on the shoreline, taking in the enchanting sight. The large stones that built the structure up held an age old look, hinting that they may give way at any moment. 

     Even so, I continued to the bridge, wading in the ankle deep muddy water. My feet sunk into the algae that carpeted the bottom of the creek. I tried not to think of the things that likely swam past my toes. 

     The bridge swallowed me with its shadow as I waded through the water, my splashing echoing against it's curved ceiling. The reflection of the water ripples danced across the stone above me. 

     It was the kind of place you pause what you're doing and breathe. Drawing in the scent of the dampness and dirt, with a hint of mold.

     I gazed to its ceiling—pausing longer than needed—then turned and started to wade to the opposite opening I had entered through.

     On the other side, the trees and bushes and algae were a thick tangle, roping the earth up in a tight grasp. It looked like a jungle, one a tiger would lurk in. The not-so-tropical birds echoed through the trees. 

     I settled on a rock that peeked from the water, and shrugged off my small, brown backpack. I pulled my sketch book out, along with an old, bitten up pencil. It was getting short. I knew I needed to get a new one soon. For some reason, I couldn't seem to let go of this one.

     My drawing evolved as minutes crept into hours. It started as crude sketches, but grew in detail as my mind wandered off.

     I tried not to think of everything surrounding the "why" that brought me here. Why I was stuck in a tiny, off-season ski cabin in a small town, which I would hardly call a town. Merely just a bar and diner and an abandoned train station. The train now just simply zoomed by, its horn breaking through the silence of the small community.

     When I finished the sketch, I leaned back, happy with the results. It wasn't bad. Wasn't bad at all. It was one of the best looking drawings I had done in the past few days. Proud, I smiled to myself.

     I gathered my supplies and shoved them back into my backpack, and swung it over my shoulder. 

     As I started back, I realized wearing shoes would have been a good idea. Certain spots of land looked solid, but ended up sinking into thick mud that squished between my toes. 

     I passed under the bridge, looking up at the dancing reflections. Once I was out from under it, a voice startled me.

     "Amber Garfield."

     I jumped at my name and my gaze landed on a man in front of me, standing on the shore. I still stood in ankle deep, murky water.

     The man wore a uniform, and my heart sank when I realized he was a cop.

     I paused. "Yes?"

     His stance was meaningful and his eyes sparked with suspicion. I tried to figure out what I could have done wrong. Was the train bridge private property? I hadn't thought so. I hadn't seen any signs.

     "Are you Amber Garfield?" he asked in a hard, even tone.

     "Yes, sir." My voice didn't sound like mine when it came out. There was a small quiver in it. 

     "What are your parents' names?" 

     "Andrew and Carrie Garfield." Fear ignited, making my heart pause. Did something happen to them?  "Is there a problem?" I asked. 

     I stepped onto the land, about ten feet from him. He looked young up close. Maybe around Max's age. Fresh out of college.

     His eyes studied me, like he couldn't figure out what I meant. "We've been looking for you. Your parents have been worried sick." His tone had dropped from professional to irritation. "My car is on the road. I'm bringing you home."

     My heart thumped in my ears. "Okay." I definitely was not arguing with a cop, even if he looked around my brother's age. 

     He asked non stop questions as we hiked up the embankment.

     "How do you feel?" and "Does anything hurt?" and "Were you with anyone else down there?"

     I answered quietly to all his questions, still taken aback by the turn of events. What was happening? Why were my parents looking for me? Mom knew where I was. I had only been gone for a few hours. Maybe four. She knew I got absorbed with my drawings and lost track of time. Something must have happened to Dad or Max. 

     When I sat in the police car—in the back like a criminal—I got up the guts to ask. "I don't understand. Why are my parents looking for me?"

     The cop glanced in his mirrors as he pulled out, his brows furrowing in slight confusion. "How long have you been by the bridge?"

     I thought for a moment. "Since two o'clock."

     He was silent for a long time. We pulled into the parking space right outside of the rental cabin. He turned off the car and twisted to look back at me. "You've been missing for four days, Amber."

     It was weird to hear my name come from a stranger's mouth, especially a cop. It was even weirder what he said, and I laughed nervously, wondering if he was joking. "I've only been gone for a few hours. It's Tuesday, right?"

     "It's Friday," he said, stepping from the car and opening my door.

     I slowly shook my head as I stepped from the vehicle. That wasn't possible. I couldn't have been gone for four days. "W-wha—I don't understand what's going on," I sputtered. "This is a joke."

     His eyes flashed. "It's no joke when someone goes missing."

     I flushed at his tone. He said it like I had done something wrong. I hadn't though. Mom knew where I was. This cop was crazy. Once he knocked on our door and Mom answered, she would be just as confused. 

     But when he knocked and Mom answered, she first looked uncertain—then her eyes lit with realization. They filled as her lip trembled.

     I was so taken back—so confused—that I stood there stiffly when she wrapped her arms around me. 

     "Oh my gosh, Amber! I thought for sure it was going to be a recovery." She drew back, her hands squeezing my arms. "Where have you been? We've been so worried! Max had to stop his courses because he was determined to find you."

     I couldn't form words as she stared at me, tears wetting her face. 

     "I—I don't know. I don't know what's going on," I said.

     "Where were you?" Mom demanded again.  

     I paused. "The bridge. I was just at the bridge. You knew that though. I told you I was going there."

     "That was four days ago, Amber. Your brother went looking for you in the afternoon, and you were nowhere." Mom's voice was growing shrill. 

     "I was on the other side," I added.

     The cop, who had been taking notes, spoke up, "We searched that area thoroughly." I could hear an edge of defense in his tone, as though I had accused him of not doing his job.

     I glanced at him then looked back at Mom. "I was only gone for a few hours. I swear."

     "Amber, I don't think you're well." Mom pulled me into the cabin, the police following. "Sit down and I'll get you something to eat and drink." 

     "You will need to fill out a police report," the cop said.

     It felt hard to swallow. I nodded silently and made my way into our living room. As I took a seat, the tv on the far wall played our local news channel.

     And there, filling the screen, was a headshot of a girl with long, brown hair. Her dark eyes smiled at the camera. Above the photo, in all caps, was the word MISSING. Under the photo was the girl's description and name. Amber Garfield. It jumped out at me like a horror flick, and I could feel the situation start to sink in. 

     I was that missing girl. This wasn't a joke.

Caleb

Something was wrong with Amber Garfield. She was either lying, or something happened to cause her to forget. Whatever the case was, she had gotten on my nerves with her act. 

     My patrol was my normal patrol, down route 36. I decided to stop into the small village off the main road because there was a small bar and dinner that served some of the best potato wedges. But I had spotted someone down by the bridge. A young woman. 

     Amber Garfield immediately popped into my head. She had been spamming every local station, and we were briefed on her on Wednesday evening after the missing persons report came in.

     I pulled over and went to investigate. As I got closer, my heart clenched. It was definitely Amber Garfield. 

     My first thought was, the rookie found the missing person! My second thought was, what is she doing?

     She had a light brown satchel on her back, the one that she had been reported wearing last, and jean shorts with a light blue tank top. Her eyes stayed on her feet as waded out from under the bridge. She looked completely worried free. A little distracted, but very peaceful. Like she was heading back from a hike.

     When I called her name, her head snapped up like she hadn't realized anyone else was with her.

     She seemed confused about everything I asked when we headed to my squad car. It made me a little annoyed. She seemed oblivious to the fact that everyone in the whole county had been looking for her. There had been a grid search this morning. Volunteers showed up to look for her body. 

     And then she had tried to convince me that she had only been gone for a couple of hours. I wasn't stupid. 

     It was a relief to return her to her family. Mrs. Garfield had called the station pretty much every hour to ask if there were leads.

     When Amber wandered into the other room to sit while her mother busied herself collecting things for her to eat and drink, I made a couple of phone calls. 

     As I waited for the sheriff to pick up, my eyes lingered on Amber. She sat on a couch, her eyes glued to the TV. I could hear it was on our local news station. It was the news report about her missing, and how there was no new information.

     I watched as the color drained from her face and her breath hitched. Her face bore the truth. She really did have no idea she was missing.