The Bridge Part Three

Jake was stunned to hear the voice clearly call out at him from the shadows, but rather than the fear he felt he was supposed to experience at times like these, a dark rage instead greeted him and filled his body. Rage at his roommates/land lords; rage at his friend who was not answering his lonely phone call; rage at his ex-girlfriend, and rage at the nameless voice crying out in the night.

“Who gives a fuck!” Jake screamed with cold anger at the place from where he had heard the voice originate, and kept his pace steady and on target towards The Bridge.  “That’s who.”

The movement in the shadows stopped, taken aback by both the presence and personality of another human being this far away from any real source of civilization.

Jake was not a small man, standing nearly two meters in height and over 100kg in weight, so when he decided to walk with determination, he did not care who was in his way.

Moving at a pace of objective, he passed by the patch of shadows from where the aggressive voice had called without pause, but kept senses he rarely used focussed on the spot. This was not the right place or the right time to be trusting.

 He had lived far too long in Edmonton not to suspect a negative, and from experience dangerous, situation.

The full spectrum of his senses was on high alert, with ancient instincts long suppressed now guiding his pace and path, the part of his brain that he used for interviews, conversations, and thoughts about the exploration of space, was not being allotted any power at all. At that exact moment, only The Bridge, the voice from the shadows, and various things that nature could provide a weapon were granted access to the room of higher thought.

He was nearing The Bridge, and he knew that he had at least two men following him, roughly 250 metres behind, not silent in their movement at all. Crossing the road, he walked until he took a step off the asphalt and onto the bank of the river. The road carried on to his direct right, where it started to divert to the right, away from the bank, before sharply returning towards the river, wherein fact it crossed it by using The Bridge.

Jake listened to the water trickle over rocks as the Class 1 rapids made their presence known, setting the soothing sounds as a permanent soundract that made this spot so very appealing.

The bridge itself started 10 metres from the bank of the river, making for an excellent shelter from the elements, but more importantly, a place to relax, throw rocks, and smoke cigarettes.

There was a nice setup underneath, where fires could be enjoyed, or just casual sitting, but it was a beautiful bridge, in a beautiful location in the middle of NE Alberta.

“Hey!” screamed the voice from earlier, “what are you doing in our house!?!”