"You have to trust me."
Angela threw him a startled look. "What?"
"You have to turn by that tree."
Her eyes darted away, face red, and Marc thought again that she had done so much better on this journey than he'd thought she would. They both had.
2
The couple made it to the Nebraska-Missouri line just before dusk and stopped to look. Marc wasn't encouraged.
The bridge they'd hoped to cross was almost completely submerged. The river was well over its banks, covering even the roads leading to the blue metal structure, but the water was only dammed up on one side, the south end nearly empty. It was so low, they couldn't see it from where they were, and as a result, the ground between them and the bridge was mostly covered with water. Nasty, stagnant, reeking liquid, the edges were pushing up onto the road they were sitting on.
After a long look, Marc handed her the binoculars. "No way we could cross that, even if we found a way in."
"Damn. I'm surprised it hasn't fallen yet. Is that a bulldozer jammed up against the railroad trestle?"
"What's left of one. The water backing up like that behind the bridge might mean there's a shallow a bit downstream, though."
The Blazers rolled slowly, and Marc's sharp eyes searched, picking out places that looked solid as he guided her closer to the river and avoided the spots that were a quicksand-like mud that would suck them under.
Half a mile from the doomed bridge, Marc had her stop so he could get a closer look, and she waited nervously, stomach full of spiders. Angela grimaced at that thought and hid it as he came back to her window. There was danger here.
"It's steep, but maybe we can make it. Tracks say someone else did recently, and if I had to call it, I'd say they did it in a small, light car, like a Toyota. Look at it while I unhook my Blazer and then we'll try. You first."
Angela did as he said, hating the way the damp ground gave under her weight, tried to steal the boots from her feet. She felt a little better when she saw it wasn't a straight drop into the riverbed, but it looked rough. She could see the tire ruts someone else had left a bit further down, and the shallow water rushing by with bits of debris bobbing along furiously.
Not feeling the peeks of sun anymore, Angela tightened her seat belt and slowly headed for the muddy bank, heart thumping wildly. This wasn't going to go well.