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them below, trying to swim.  Totally fucked up.  I’m stayin’ here.  Someone’ll come along.  Someone who knows what the fuck is going on.”
    A deep boom from up ahead to the left shook the bridge.  The refineries.  Tons of them.  Exploding from the pressure, or the heat, or whatever makes oil tanks explode. 
    “They’ve been doing that every hour or so,” the guy said.   He looked up at me again.  I wished he didn’t.  “Where are you going?” he asked.
    “To the city.  Get some supplies.”
    “Do you know what the fuck is going on?” 
    I didn’t want to get into it.   “No.”
    I didn’t have time for this.  I turned to walk on and the guy called back to me.  “Be careful out there, dude.”
    I walked past to where the bridge ended, eyeing the beam spanning the river.  No wind.  Piece of cake. 
    Ashley asked from behind, “What are you doing?”
    I turned to her.  “Going to the city.  Gotta get across.”
    “There are other bridges, ya know.” 
    Marilyn passed by her and stood behind me.  I looked at Ashley.  “You comin’ or what?”
    “I’m not crossing that thing,” Ashley said.
    “Fine, I don’t really care,” I responded.  I really didn’t.  I knew what we needed, I knew where it was, and frankly, I didn't relish the thought of leading a bunch of people to safety.  I just wanted to get to Chicago and see what happens from there. 
    I turned, stretched out my arms, and started across the bridge.
    The steel beam girder stretched about three feet wide with three inch rivets on the edges.  Not too nasty, but when you know you’re two-hundred feet above a moving river, it can get intimidating.  I heard footsteps behind and knew Marilyn had come along for the ride.  Would Ashley?
    Somewhere inside of me I felt a little guilty.  But really, this is survival.  I couldn't afford to care.   Did that make me a bad person?  Probably.  Dad wouldn’t have approved.  But to hell with him.  He never did approve of anything I did anyway.  All he wanted was for me to be excited about his work.  And I just couldn’t be.
    I snapped out of my self-pity fiesta and noticed I stood halfway across.  I looked back and saw Ashley really playing up the high wire act.  Arms outstretched, moving at a snail’s pace.   “Ashley,” I yelled, “pick it up.”
    Marilyn turned to look.  “Oh my God, she’s crying.”
    “I’m coming,” Ashley yelled, looking up at me.  While walking.  Big mistake.
    Ashley stepped on a chunk of concrete and turned her ankle.  Not bad, but enough to knock her off balance.  Her arms flailed.  She fell to her knee, and then from the pain moved to get off her knee.  Before I knew it, she was clinging to the girder, her eyes clamped shut, her body half hanging over edge.  Nothing but floating bodies and the bobbing wings of the airplane below, waving her down.
    Marilyn shuffled quickly forward to her, with me close behind.  Marilyn stepped over her, knelt, and grabbed Ashley’s left arm.  I knelt down and grabbed her right.
    “Pull yourself up,” I shouted.
    Ashley grunted.  “I can’t,” she sobbed.
    “We don’t have the leverage to lift you,” I said slowly.  “You’re going to have to do it yourself.”  We pulled, trying to stay on balance ourselves.  Ashley’s face contorted and she let out another grunt, trying pulling herself up.
    I slipped.  In a blink I was on my stomach and gripping Ashley’s arm with everything I had.  But it was covered with sweat.  Slipping.  Ashley screamed.  Her feet flailed above the flowing blue river.   She held onto nothing but me.
    Marilyn yelled for help.  I looked up – either no one heard or no one cared.  The stoner in the Dodge Dart must’ve been sound asleep.
    I had no leverage.  Nothing to brace myself against.  If I kept hanging on, I could go with her.  Marilyn’s grip slipped.  This was crazy – Ashley wasn’t that big. 
    My arm scraped against the