The High Bridge

It is pitch dark. I am lying on my back. I put my hands out and feel a wooden wall right in front of me. I reach to the sides and feel a wall close on either side. The walls feel like plywood.

What the hell?

My head hurts. Throbbing. I feel for the back of my head and where it hurts, it is also wet. Blood? Too dark to tell.

I have no idea how I got here. The last thing I remember is walking to my bike after work. I had my phone out and was texting Amy.

Wait! My phone! There is a flashlight on there. I pat my pockets.

Ugh. No phone.

The air feels warm and close. I wonder how tight this box is. I start breathing faster. My heart races.

I will myself to take slow deep breaths.

I get back to clarity. My head still hurts, but I'm awake. I scan the rest of my body and find no other obvious injuries.

"Hello?"

"HELLO?!?"

"HELLLLLOOOO!!!"

I listen. Nothing. No voices. But I do hear something odd. It is faint and rhythmic. It reminds me of something. I sense motion.

I hear a whistle blow. It sounds far away, but now I know what the rhythmic sound is. I'm on a train.

Feeling sleepy.

----

I wake up. This time I remember where I am. On a moving train. In a dark plywood box. My head still hurts. Now I feel thirsty.

"Hello?"

"HEllOOO?!?"

No response. It was worth a try. I check my pockets. I still have my keys and wallet.

-----

Time passes. The blood on my hands and the back of my head is dry. My head still hurts and I have a ringing in my ears now. So thirsty.

The train keeps moving.

"thunk. Thunk. THUNK."

It seems like the sound of something metal hitting a hollow wooden box. And the sound is getting closer.

"Thunk. THUNK. Thunk."

"I don't know which one they put him in."

"Well. Keep hitting them, you'll hear it when you find him."

"Hard to believe he was all the way out in Wisconsin."

"Yeah. But, when word came that he was there, Boss didn't waste a second. He called in that favor and the locals picked him up and put him on the train."

"He must be important. What did he do?"

"He killed Boss's kid."

"I'd run too."

"Thunk. Thunk. THUNK."

The sounds is right next to me now. My mind is racing. Is this it? Are they going to kill me?

I don't know anyone named Boss and I certainly didn't kill his kid. I am not on the run. I've lived in Wisconsin my whole life.

"THUMP!"

He has hit my box.

"Thunk."

I hear him hit another box.

"THUMP!"

He hits my box again.

'That's the one." He says grimly. "Poor kid."

"You gonna open it?"

"What if he's dead? Boss said he wanted him alive when we throw him off the High Bridge."

"If we don't open the box, we can tell Boss we thought he was alive. But if we open the box and he's dead, then we'd be lying. I don't lie to Boss. He can tell. Let's leave it closed."

"But won't he ask if we checked to see if it was the right guy?"

I'm about to scream. I want to say "You got the wrong guy!" Then I hear:

"I don't care if he is the right guy or not. If we don't open the box we can just say it was the right guy. Let's go get a drink. We've got a long way to go before the High Bridge."

I close my mouth. Does he really not care? What would he do if I screamed? Could anyone else hear me if I did? What is that metal thing he was hitting the boxes with? Could I fight two men in my condition? Are there more than two? Could I fight two men in any condition?

I hear footsteps walking away. Did I miss my chance? Was this it? I'm left with the sound of the train clicking away as it glides over the tracks, taking me closer to some "High Bridge" and my date with death. Does it seem like the train is moving faster?

---

"Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thump"

"That's the one. Get your crowbar and open it. If he's still alive then he's gonna need some water."

At last!

"I'm alive!" My voice is hoarse.

"You hear that?"

The box shakes as he pries off the lid. I watch the nails come slowly out as light floods in. I breathe my first breath of fresh air in who knows how long. It is too bright for me to see who has opened the box. I'm hoping that they will see they got the wrong guy, and apologize or something.

"Ugh. He's covered in blood! And he smells like piss."

"Water?" I ask hoarsely as push myself to a sitting position. I have my keys tucked in my hand. I'm ready to give a key punch if either of them try anything. I don't even know what a key punch is, but that is my only potential weapon. I wish I knew a martial art.

As my eyes come into focus, I see I'm in a car full of plywood boxes of all shapes. Two men loom over me. The taller one is clean-shaven and has a large crowbar in his hand. The shorter one has a mustache and hands me a bottle of water, which I grab with my non-key hand. I drink it all.

"Clean up. I want to look at you."

Finally, I think. They will see they got the wrong guy.

Mustache produces a rag and another bottle of water. He hands both to me. I drink half of the second bottle and pour a little of the rest onto the rag to wash my face.

"I didn't do anything. You got the wrong guy. This is all a big mistake. Please let me go. I won't say anything."

Tall looks at his phone.

"Nope. You're him."

He shows me his screen and it is a picture of me, taken outside of work. My heart sinks. This mistaken identity must go deeper than I thought. Was I set up? I grip my key hand and get mentally ready to fight.

"Tie him up."

Mustache pulls a zip tie from his pocket and quickly grabs both of my wrists and pulls them together in front of me with the zip tie.

Tall looks at me. He hits the crowbar against his hand. "Get back in the box."

What can I do?

Mustache pushes me down and Tall puts the lid back on, hitting it with the crowbar until the top is back on and it is dark again.

I hear footsteps on the metal floor and "thunk, thunk, thunk" as Tall hits the empty boxes on his way out.

---

Except it isn't pitch dark again. Tall has not hit the lid down all the way.

My eyes adjust quickly.

I'm left with my thoughts in the now dim light.

Why didn't I fight? Why the HELL didn't I fight?

My keys are still gripped in my hand. I keep coming back in my head to that moment when Mustache went to put the zip tie on my wrist. That was it! And I did nothing. Aargh! Could I have taken Tall and Mustache? Tall had that crowbar and is big, but really I'll never know. This train keeps bringing me closer to the High Bridge. How did I get here?

I think back to what must be yesterday morning. I woke up on a typical work day. I made oatmeal for Amy and me and then took the dog for walk before I biked to the office of the newspaper where I work. I have been working on another story about the effects of climate change. It is my passion. I find one place after another that is being affected by climate change and I interview the residents and make the story as personal as I can. I want readers to feel something.

The story I have been working on involves a group of migrants from Guatemala and Honduras who have been driven out of the coffee fields by drought and insect infestations that have never before hit their region. They have been captured at the border and are being held in detention centers. I had been in the office because their internet was fast enough for the video calls with translation that I needed to do. My editor thought the story might get picked up by national papers again, if I can make people feel the pain of climate change. That is my specialty. I was texting Amy about how excited I was while I was walking to my bike.

The irony hits me. This train reminds me of climate change. We know we are heading for a High Bridge of catastrophic climate chaos. But instead of stopping the train, it seems we are moving faster. Then I think about how I didn't even try to fight Mustache as he put the zip tie on. Are those of us who can see the problem putting up a real fight? Or have we given up? Have we given in to hopelessness?

---

In the dim light, thinking about fighting gives me an idea. What if I use my knees to push up on the lid? It is not nailed down all the way. If nails go in, they can go out.

I pull my knees up to my chest and push with all my force. Nothing. I try again. Nothing. I give it one more try. And "creeeeeeak," I hear the sound of nails beginning to come out of wood. It is just a little movement, but the gathering light gives me hope.

It takes me what seems like an hour of pushing and resting and pushing and resting until finally the lid is free. There is a jagged edge with an exposed nail on the box and I rub my wrists back and forth until the plastic on the zip tie breaks.

I look around. Tall and Mustache could come back at any moment. I need a plan. I am in a cargo car loaded with wooden boxes. There must be a passageway to other cars, because my two captors are nowhere to be seen. I walk to one end of the car. There is a locked door. I walk to the other end and find the same. There is a loading door in the middle of the car, but that is shut and locked too, with a padlock.

I know I'm not supposed to panic. But I have no idea where I am or how long I have before the High Bridge. I can't run, and now that I'm out of one box, I just find myself in another, bigger box. I need to think. But I can't. I find I'm shaking.

Deep breaths.

Hope. A plan.

In the piles of boxes, there are some small ones and some bigger ones. I take as many small ones as I can find and I put them inside of my original box. I try to to pound the lid back on my box by jumping on it. The nail holes must be loosened by now, because it goes on easy. I test the box and it feels heavy. Heavy enough to fool Tall and Mustache? I don't know. Then I move big boxes around until I find a place to hide, behind and under a bunch of boxes, but with a view to my box and the cargo door. Then I settle in.

---

I hear the door open. I'm poised and ready. I don't know what to do. Can I just hide out until the train gets where its going? Will they check the box before they chuck off the high bridge? Will I need to fight? Is the door unlocked, and can I make a break for it?

"That poor shmuck!" I recognize Tall's voice. "How could he know that Boss's kid would take him so seriously?"

"What an ass though. I don't blame Boss for what he's doing. The guy had to know how people would react to his bullshit stories! He can't write about the end of the world and then be surprised when kids take him seriously. It's his fault and I'm glad we are dumping him."

"Yeah, sure. He writes the doom and gloom, but also some asshole pays him to scare people. I suppose we should be dumping the paper owner, too. Boss is mad as hell. He's going through a lot of work to dump this guy off the same bridge that his own kid jumped from."

"We get paid either way. How soon until the High Bridge?"

"Five minutes by my phone."

"Ok. Let's open the door."

As Tall and Mustache unlock and open the door, I realize that they don't have the wrong guy. I'm the person who writes the doom and gloom climate stories for our newspaper. I'm the one who gets death threats from climate change deniers. I'm the one who writes back and forth to climate change activists. I could even have been in communication with this kid. It's me. I did it. I'm sorry. The end of the world is coming soon. I write about it every day. But I don't want to die, just yet.

Now the cargo door is open and from my hiding spot I can see flashes of the world going by. Both men are standing in the doorway admiring the view. There are green trees and mountains and a sheer drop off, possibly with a river below, I can't see for sure.

They turn to go get my box. I feel a lump in my throat.

"This asshole is heavy!"

"Yeah. I suppose that is why Boss sent two of us."

"Funny. The guy in the box isn't making any noise. Should we check on him? Boss wants him alive when he goes."

"Nah. We checked before. Let's just get it done."

They perch the box on its end as the train makes a turn and begins to cross a long bridge. I see the sparkling river far below. The High Bridge!

"This is it. Boss said we need to wait until the middle of the bridge."

My heart is beating fast as I wait.

"Now."

They push the box and it disappears from view. That would have been me. The thought briefly crosses my mind to run and try to push Tall and Mustache out the open door as they stand there admiring their work. I can't do it. I'm too scared.

"Let's get out of here."

They leave the side cargo door open and walk back where they came from, closing and locking the passenger door behind them.

---

"Hello, Amy?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm in Oregon!"

"What are you doing out there? We have been worried sick!"

"Its a long story. Just remind me when I get home to inject a little hope into my climate change stories!"