The Bridge: Chapter One

Branches slashed my face as I sprinted through the woods. I clutched knives in my sweaty hands as I raced down the familiar rabbit trail. I pushed myself to go faster. Soon it would be too late, and I couldn’t fail. Not this time. Behind me, a branch cracked and I spun around without hesitation and sent my knife spinning to its mark.

A perfect hit. Right in the eye.

I picked up the rabbit to inspect it. Blood oozed from the eye socket where my knife was embedded and dripped onto the arrow that had pierced its neck. Annoyed, I yanked out my knife and tossed the rabbit to the ground.

“Cahira,” I snarled, unamused as a lithe figure emerged from the woods. “Was that really necessary?” I frowned, studying the nearly severed head of the rabbit and then glaring up at her.

Cahira smiled widely, her bright white teeth gleaming in striking contrast with her skin. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, and carefully picked up the rabbit.

“You should have hit it first, if it bothers you so much.”

“I did hit it first.”

“Then how come there’s blood on the fletching?”

We argued somewhat playfully almost the entire way back to the village, Cahira with the rabbit slung over her shoulder. It was a familiar routine for us both. Cahira and I had grown up hunting together, and under the guise of competition had developed an easy rhythm.

Cahira got bored of teasing, and for a while we continued in silence. I kept my eye out for more game, though I doubted any animals had stuck around after my sprint through the woods. It hadn’t exactly been the height of stealth on my part. Even so, everything seemed too quiet. It was a warm day, and the sunlight trickled down through the leaves to decorate the forest floor, unimpeded by any clouds. For such a perfect day, the air was quiet. The usual hum of the woods was absent, replaced by an eerie quiet.

Hunting had been increasingly scarce, despite all the precautions Cahira and I, and the other hunters, took. No one hunted in the same area for more than a few days, and we went out farther and farther to try and ensure we weren’t overhunting any one area of the woods. We had also tried only hunting one type of animal at a time. None of our preventative measures seemed to be working. In years past, on a day like today we could have easily bagged two deer, at least. The mutilated rabbit seemed pathetic in comparison.

Cahira, in a show of unconcern, nudged me playfully in the ribs, and joked “We’ll probably get a deer tomorrow, as long as you don’t stomp your way through the woods like Amis again.”

I winced and absentmindedly rubbed my ribcage. Cahira forgot how strong she was sometimes. Amis didn’t mind, but he was pretty musclebound and Cahira’s punches and digs didn’t really hurt him. I wasn’t quite as bulky, and her elbows tended to drive straight into my bone. “Can’t,” I replied. “I’m back in the fields starting tomorrow.”

Cahira wrinkled her nose and turned to face me. “Already? Aren’t there a few more weeks before harvest?” she asked.

“Normally, yes,” I said, staring determinedly ahead, “but Vis wants it to start early, since so many of the farmers have reported lower yields than normal. Didn’t she tell you?”

Cahira shrugged and grinned. “Probably. I pretty much hear what I want to when it comes to her.”

I rolled my eyes. I didn’t respond, partially because I had nothing to say and partially because I was unfairly jealous of Cahira. She was a secure member of the warrior elite, who hunted and trained year-round. She never had to work a farm rotation. I got to hunt for parts of the year, but as an orphan with no living relatives to secure a warrior status, I also had to spend a good bit of time working for the various farmers whose lands surrounded the village. I always dreaded my days in the fields. There was no shade to provide reprieve from the relentless heat of the sun, and the work was difficult, yet unbearably monotonous. Amis always claimed to love it, though as the eternal optimist he claimed to love just about everything. Plus, he had grown up working on his father’s farm, so it probably had just never occurred to him not to enjoy it. I preferred the cool stillness of the woods, and the quiet exhilaration of the hunt.

I was decent with most weapons, although my preferences were knives and spears. My parents had begun to teach me as a little girl, and when they died on the bridge the knives were the only things belonging to my parents that the search party could find to bring back. Over time, I perfected the skill.

The bridge had always been there, looming outside the city walls and disappearing over the ocean, before a time anyone from the village could remember. In the early days, people started trying to cross it, because they were curious, brave, or bored. They would journey out, usually alone or in small groups, onto the bridge to see how far it went, but no one who was gone overnight ever came back, and the search parties never found a trace of them. The search parties were always a group of at least 10 seasoned warriors on horseback, so that they could make it back to the village before nightfall. Horses was only ever used as a last resort because there were so few of them, and they were needed in the fields.

When I was five, my parents led a band of trusted warriors to see if there were any other villages like ours on the other side. They were trying to form alliances, to boost our numbers in case of an attack or times of hardship. They took the biggest group that had ever gone out onto the bridge. As advisors to Cahira’s aunt, Vis, they had been well-established in the community, so they had a lot of support from most of the village. I remembered how excited everyone was at the prospect of the first well-organized foray onto the bridge. Hopes had been high that they would finally be the ones to succeed. The night before, Chief Vis held a celebratory bonfire with the entire village present. Someone started singing, and I remembered my father holding me in his arms as he and my mother danced around the fire, me in between them, warm, safe and happy.

Three weeks later, after the appointed window had passed, the search party rode out. They found what was left of the group not even a half a day’s ride onto the bridge. No one from my parents’ expedition came back, and no one had tried to cross it since.

The mouth of the bridge extended about halfway from the ocean to the village walls. It seemed to roll out from the ocean like a giant tongue, promising to devour anyone who would cross it. It was wide enough so that it was difficult to keep it all in your field of view, even from far away. On the sunniest day, it was possible to see about the length of the oceanside wall before the mist swallowed it up. It featured in my nightmares every night, a harbinger of every unknown except death, the one certainty it seemed unfailingly to provide.

The bridge itself was made out of a dark and unfamiliar metal that was incredibly strong. People to try and harvest some of the metal to use for building and repair, but it withstood their best efforts. There weren’t even marks left from where they had hacked at it with blades or tried to melt the thinner parts of the metal. It was out of place and unnerving, yet deceptively enticing. Whenever I looked at it, I got the same curious feeling you sometimes get when standing in a high place or staring at a fire. The urge to jump or to step into the flames. The seductive whisper of destruction that spoke of the rush of the fall or the passion of the flames instead of the pain. I hated and feared the bridge, and yet I wanted nothing more than to see for myself what made it so very dangerous.

The trees started to thin as we approached the village gates. From the edge of the woods, I could see the entire village wrapped in the walls, with the bridge rising up from the ocean behind. Cahira flashed a smile at the lookouts as we drew closer, and without hesitation they drew open the huge, clanking sheets of metal. The gates, like most of the city, had been scavenged centuries ago, presumably to keep the first settlers of the village safe, or at least to bring a small measure of comfort. They closed behind us with a ringing clang, and I took in the familiar sight of dilapidated buildings, many of which were eroded down to the metal frames and now covered with makeshift sheets and wood. There were few people on the streets, but as we passed the ones who were there nodded in respect to Cahira. She was both warrior and family to the chief, and likely soon to be the next chief when Vis died. Most people treated me kindly, if indifferently, although I suspected the kindness was thanks to my longstanding friendship with Cahira.

We were nearing the winter stores when out of nowhere Amis came and tackled Cahira to the ground. She kneed him swiftly in the gut and the two proceeded to wrestle in the dust. After a few minutes, Cahira pinned him, victorious, and Amis cheerfully gave. Cahira let him up and he struggled to his feet, breathless. “You didn’t have to try and kill me, you know,” he muttered, a spark of playful resentment in his light brown eyes.

Cahira flicked his tousled blonde hair off his forehead.

“I was barely trying to knock you down. Think twice before you jump me next time.”

Amis punched her lightly on the shoulder and turned to smile and kick my shin in greeting. Amis and I had become friends when I worked on his family’s farm years ago, and since Cahira and I had practically grown up together, the three of us became inseparable.

Amis nodded in the rabbit’s direction “That bad?” he asked.

Cahira’s smile vanished, and I just shrugged in response.

“What are you doing inside the gates anyway? Shouldn’t you still be planting or growing or feeding chickens or whatever it is you do?” Cahira joked, shoving the rabbit down into her bag.

Amis frowned “Your aunt called a meeting. Mandatory for everyone, starts once the last hunters are back. Which, at your rate, is probably you two.”

I glanced at Cahira. Her brows knit back together and she unconsciously started pulling at her sleeves. I wasn’t used to seeing Cahira remotely unbalanced, let alone upset. As a sort of apprentice to her aunt, she probably wasn’t used to not being kept in the loop, and judging by her expression, she didn’t much like it.

“Come on then,” she frowned, “we’d better see what all the fuss is about.” She tossed her bag with the rabbit to me and strode off towards the center of the village, where most of the important events took place. Amis trotted close behind Cahira until he caught up with her long strides. I lingered in the back, nervously twirling my knives in response to the uneasy pit that had formed in my stomach. Meetings were typically never for a positive reason, and I wasn’t really in the mood for a public punishment or village-wide reprimand. Against my better judgement, I picked up my feet and followed, certain that I wasn’t going to like whatever happened next, and certain that, regardless, I was completely powerless to stop whatever it may be.

As we drew closer to the village circle, the buildings became closer and slightly less decrepit. A few fellow stragglers hurried along with us, though they gave an obviously irritated Cahira a wide berth. Amis, oblivious, undaunted, or both, kept chattering about his day in the fields and asking more about the hunt. I tuned him out, instead focusing on the low buzz of voices and activity that was growing louder with each step we took towards the village center. We were still more than five minutes out when there were more distinct shouts amidst the uproar, though I still couldn’t make out specific words. Now seeming more worried than angry, Cahira broke into a jog with Amis following close behind. I broke away from the two of them and circled through a back street and finally saw what seemed to be the entire population of the village, about 2,000 people, gathered together. I rushed towards the back of the pulsing crowd. Cahira wound her way through the crowd to go stand with her aunt. However jealous I was of Cahira’s secure station, I was grateful that public appearances and speeches were not part of my responsibilities. I preferred the anonymity of the masses. I was also surly and uncooperative, according to my friends and various other villagers.

From where I stood, if I stood on my toes, I could see Cahira and her aunt talking to the side, not yet ready to address the crowd. I doubted anyone would have much success communicating anything to the people as they were. I had seen them upset, frustrated and angry, but I’d never seen them quite as agitated as this. To make matters worse, the sun was in the perfect position to miss hitting any of the overhanging rooves and instead shine directly onto the gathering. Dust rose from the ground from the commotion, which only added to the situational aggravations.

I nudged the girl next to me, a farmer’s daughter I recognized from one of my field rotations. “What’s going on?” I asked, gesturing vaguely to the tumultuous scene before us.

“Don’t exactly know,” she started, looking down at her feet and kicking the dirt, “but I know its got something to do with food.”

I looked up sharply. The hunting had been scarce for a while, but not many people knew about it, and the yields from the farms would be more than enough to last everyone the winter. I stared at her unapologetically until she looked up.

“If it’s got something to do with food, then you know what’s going on. Your father works one of the biggest farms of the village.” I snarled urgently, maybe a bit harsher than I’d meant. Sensitivity wasn’t really one of my talents.

She glanced around, making sure everyone around us was completely absorbed in their own speculations or incoherent roaring.

She took a breath before replying. “There’s been a problem, in the fields. No one really knows what it was…” she trailed off, either feeling she’d said too much or put off by my expression and started kicking the ground again at an increased tempo.

I tried, unsuccessfully, to rearrange my face into a warmer, less threatening version of its normal state. “What kind of problem, exactly?” I asked slowly, trying out what was meant to be a smile but felt more like a grimace.

She pulled her arms across her chest and started talking quietly to the ground. “No one- well, not my dad or anyone he’s talked to yet, although Sora thinks- “

“I grabbed her arm “What exactly- “

“It’s dying. The crops, fields. Right now, it’s just my father’s farm, but he thinks it will spread. Some kind of plant sickness. There’s a chance there will be no yield to speak of for winter. And the stores are empty, because last year’s harvest was so slim.”

I dropped her arm and turned away. She scurried off, no doubt alarmed by my intensity. It probably didn’t help that I still held a knife, forgotten, in my other hand. Before I could begin to process, Cahira and the chief stepped up to the platform. I couldn’t tell anything from Cahira’s face.

A reluctant quiet fell over the crowd, punctuated by occasional murmurs, as Chief Vis prepared to speak.

“As I am aware many of you already know, we have encountered an unforeseen and widespread problem with the crops this harvest season that will likely affect the upcoming winter.”

She allowed a ripple of noise to go through the crowd before she continued.

“To combat the shortage, a team of hunters will accompany a team of foragers farther south, as far south as they must go to find food. In the meantime, eat as little as you can manage. If you’re not working, try fishing or foraging individually as well.”

The chief droned on about various responsibilities and logistical contingencies in the face of the threat. All she told us to do was what everyone had been doing already, every day. After a while, she stopped, as if she had completely solved the problem.

From somewhere to my left, a gruff voice shouted “But there’s nothing to the south, I’ve led groups there before and there isn’t anything we can use, we would have found something by now!”

Echoing yells of agreement popped up all through the crowd. The chief opened her mouth to respond, but she was quickly drowned out by the increasing uproar of the crowd. Not far away, I could see two small children standing with their mother. The little boy had his arms wrapped around his younger sister, whose hands were clapped over her ears with her face buried into his chest. He looked scared too, but he kept holding onto his sister as his mother shouted with the rest of them.

People started leaving, pouring out into the streets and returning to their houses to horde food and resources, to see how long they thought they could make it stretch. The chief tried and failed to regain control of the crowd. She and Cahira started to step off the platform, defeated. I was turning away too when I surprised myself.

“What about the bridge?” I asked, purposefully quiet for fear of actually being heard. The hubbub continued, unmarked by my interjection. I cleared my throat and spoke louder.

“What about the bridge?”

A few people around me heard, and started nudging their neighbors and whispering. The crowd was still much louder than I was, but I had said the unsayable, and that was enough to hush people. Gradually, the noise quieted to a low hum. Cahira and her aunt turned back around, and for a final time, I asked:

“What about the bridge?”

Silence. Fearful expressions, some dismissive, most disbelieving.

Cahira refused to make eye contact. Beside her, the chief tilted her head up and studied me. It was hard to tell her expression over the crowd, but I assumed a level of irritation and dubiousness. “What do you mean, what about the bridge? What exactly are you suggesting?” she asked imperiously.

Every eye in the crowd turned to stare at me. It only then occurred to me to be embarrassed and uncomfortable with the amount of attention I had uncharacteristically drawn to myself. In response, I felt a delayed rush of blood flash to my cheeks, accompanied by an increased heart rate and a sudden onslaught of nervousness.

“Well, its just- well we don’t know really- I guess because we don’t know what’s there we could, maybe cross it?” I stammered, tripping over my own words, uncertain as to whether or not the end result was comprehensible in any way. I started backtracking and cursing my millisecond of boldness as the chief responded.

“I apologize, Reva, but are you suggesting that in the face of a potentially catastrophic food shortage we should waste people and resources in crossing a bridge that might very well lead to nowhere? The bridge where your parents, along with many others, died?”

I didn’t have to see her face to know how she was looking at me. I could tell from her tone, the way she’d spoken to me a thousand times before. Satisfied that I continued to live up to her dismal expectations of me. Satisfied in herself, proud of the dig reminding me of my parents, and of the fact that in her eyes and most everyone else’s I had failed to live up to their reputation. It was an old wound, to be sure, but the sort that never quite heals all the way and thus makes an easy mark for cheap shots.

“Yes,” I answered coolly, surprised at the newfound steel in my voice, “I am. We don’t know what lies on the other side of the bridge, true enough, but anything could be over there. Food, people, help, it doesn’t matter. Why should we waste resources going to the south when we know nothing is there? At least we have a chance with the bridge, a hope- “

“Need I remind you that the reason we don’t know what lies on the other side of the bridge is because no one has ever survived more than a day in attempting to cross it? There is no chance on the bridge, no hope. There’s only death, the gruesome nature of which you should know more keenly than most.” She snapped.

It was true. Search parties in the past sent to find the few people willing to try to cross the bridge, including my parents, had only ever found bloody clothes and belongings to bring back. Whatever was out there, there was no denying it was brutal.

“I do know. But I also know we’re running out of options.” I started walking towards the chief, and the crowd parted before me. As I passed the boy and his sister, who stood side-by-side with eyes open and attentive, I handed him the bag with the rabbit. “We won’t last the winter.” I continued. “You know that. What have we got to lose by sending a few, well-prepared warriors out to just try one more- “

“What we have to lose, Reva, is life. I won’t send my warriors on a mission ending in certain death- “

“Fine. Send me.”

The chief opened her mouth, and then shut it again. I was close enough now to see her narrow her eyes at me. I decided to press my luck.

“I’ll go. You have nothing to lose by sending me, except another mouth to feed. I won’t take any horses, I won’t take anything that isn’t already mine. If I don’t come back, its fine. If I do, if I somehow make it, maybe we find a way.” I said firmly, hoping my thunderously beating heart wouldn’t give my fear away.

Cahira, who had finally given in to watching the exchange, wore an inscrutable expression. The chief didn’t say anything; she just looked at me. I felt like I was watching myself in the woods, deer in sight, preparing to send a knife spinning to its mark. Except, in this situation, I was the prey, not the predator.

Chief Vis clasped her hands together and smiled in a perversion of Cahira’s free and open smile. It was stiff and forced, and extended only to the corner of her lips before leaving the rest of her face untarnished by the facial expression.

“I’ll not keep you from following in the footsteps of your parents. Go, if you want,” she waved her hand carelessly, “as there’s no one here to miss you when you die alone.”

My pulse hammered and I opened my mouth to respond angrily to her smirking face when I heard a familiar voice speak up:

“She won’t go alone.”

Amis looked surprised that the words had made it out of him, but determined to follow through now that they had been said. I was touched and fearful all at once. I hadn’t thought it through, any of it, and I didn’t want Amis to get hurt. He was loyal and kind, and I knew he could handle himself but my heart ached at the idea of him putting himself at risk on my behalf. My eyes found his across the crowd. His were resolute. I knew he wouldn’t back down, not now, and there’d be no point in trying to deter him. So, I nodded, and he slightly inclined his head in response.

I turned back to the chief, who had raised her eyebrow but not changed much else about her position. Before she could speak, it was Cahira’s voice that rang out from the platform.

“I’ll go too.”

Chief Vis spun around and grabbed her arm, and they started arguing in hushed tones. I was shocked, mostly at the entire turn of events and myself for deciding to embark on a death mission along with the only two people I cared about in the village. The crowd, patiently quiet this whole time, erupted into agitated conversation, and a small bubble of space formed around me, as if my recklessness was contagious. I could see Amis pushing his way towards me, but I was frozen. I looked back towards the little boy again. With one arm, he clutched the bag to his chest, and with the other he held his sisters hand. His mother had a hand on each of their shoulders. All three were staring at me.

Before Amis could make it over, the crowd hushed and I looked up to see Chief Vis waving her arms in an uncharacteristically frazzled manner. Once there was quiet, she fixed her cold eyes on me. I narrowed mine in response and tried to look confident.

She licked her lips slowly, like a snake testing its surroundings, the opened her mouth to speak.

“Very well.”

˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜

“You don’t have to come.”

I stared out at the bridge. After the excitement of the meeting, it was decided we would leave tomorrow morning. We would carry enough weapons to furnish a small army, and bring enough supplies to last us four days, with the intent of stretching the food longer if we had too. When the details were set, Amis, Cahira and I had drifted here, beyond the walls to preview the path ahead.

“Of course we’re coming, idiot,” Amis said cheerfully, slapping my shoulder.

Cahira just nodded and continued to study the bridge.

“I mean it,” I said, turning to Amis and then back to Cahira, “I wasn’t thinking. It was stupid, but I’m going to go. What I don’t want is to get you two hurt in the process.”

Amis frowned and began to respond but Cahira interrupted him.

“We’re coming,” she said, “but whatever happens isn’t on you. We know the risk. We’re coming.” She repeated firmly, finally turning to look at me. She hadn’t said much, and I don’t know what happened between her and her aunt, but she seemed different. Tense. Much like I was.

I couldn’t hold her gaze. I watched instead as the sun set behind the top spires of the bridge, twirling a knife in my hand. I let the fear I’d been trying to hold back since the afternoon creep in.

There was no celebratory bonfire. The chief had publicly expressed her approval since her niece became involved and she knew she had lost control of the situation, but this wasn’t a truly sanctioned mission like the one my parents went on. At best, we went with the begrudging permission of the chief. At worst, we were insurgents stirring up dissent at Chief Vis’ ineffective response to the food shortage. The villagers seemed intrigued, and while no one else offered to come with us, I had a few pieces of bread and small bits of fruit pressed into my hand or show up at my door as the evening progressed.

I didn’t sleep much that night. Cahira and Amis probably didn’t either. Amis had spent most of the evening saying goodbye to his father, who was distraught at the thought of his only son trying to cross the bridge. He cried, and yelled, and threatened, but Amis was not to be deterred, especially since Cahira decided to go as well.

Cahira’s aunt had tried to persuade her to change her mind once they weren’t in front of an angry and hungry crowd, but Cahira ignored her. We went together to get water from the stream, but spent most of the evening in silence, and she eventually left to spend the night with her parents.

I didn’t have anyone to say goodbye to; my only two friends were coming with me. After I packed a small bag, I sat on my sleeping mat, sharpening my knives. I was bringing my bow and as many arrows as I could, just in case, but the routine of sharpening calmed me down some, and I figured it couldn’t hurt. I tried not to think about who, or what, I might have to use my knives on. I also tried not to wonder if our weapons would prove useful against whatever it was we would encounter. Most of all, I tried very hard not to picture Cahira and Amis, dead because of my impulsiveness.

When I finally slept, I was clutching my knives and dreaming of death.