Chapter 36

Chapter Thirty-Six

Ezra

I 've been walking this side of the jungle for over an hour, but I've seen no sign of Kindra. Knowing my luck, she's gone over the bridge. Which means I have to go over the bridge.

With a deep breath, I turn in that direction. The path is hard to find, but I get there in the end, and now I'm heading toward my greatest fear.

In reality, losing Kindra is my greatest fear, but that bridge is a close second. It's a long way to the bottom of that ravine. I've seen someone make the journey, and it never ends well.

A bit deeper into the foliage, I come across Ice Pick. A fresh kill lies below him.

"Any sign of her?" I ask.

"Not yet." He grunts and pulls his ice pick from the dead woman's ear. "I've been keeping a lookout, though. I saw Grim a few minutes ago, and he said he came across a man who'd had his throat slit pretty good. Whoever killed him damn near took his head off."

"He thinks it was Kindra's handiwork?"

The woman's legs begin to move, and Ice Pick jams his tool through her right eye. The pointed end slides past the eyeball instead of going through it, which forces the errant globe out of her skull.

"That's what Grim thinks," he says as he uses his foot to ram the pick deeper. "Rosie took a bow and some arrows, so it couldn't have been her. Grim has a machete and a few hand grenades. I can do some dirty work with my pick, but he said this cut was clean."

Bennett planned to bring his new toy—a flail—so that counts him out, too. Maverick...Well, let's just say that Maverick is far more thorough than a slit throat. There are other killers out here as well, and Jim has been known to favor a blade, but something about this kill screams Kindra.

"Thanks, Ice Pick. I'll keep looking."

We head in opposite directions. I keep moving toward the bridge while he ventures deeper into the trees.

As I walk along, I keep my eyes peeled for any bodies. I find only one, which is a man. The left side of his skull has been reduced to confetti, and a small rodent of some kind runs off with a bit of his brain as I draw closer. This definitely wasn't accomplished with a blade or any sort of precision.

The chaos screams Bennett.

I nudge the body with the toe of my shoe, looking for any definitive sign that Kindra has been here, but I find nothing. I can't stall any longer. It's time to cross the bridge.

A cold sweat slicks my body as I think of that dilapidated mess of boards and ropes. The rocks and shallow water at the bottom make my stomach drop, and I'm not even there yet. Just seeing them in my mind is enough to send me into a panic.

"You have to protect Kindra," I say to myself. "If that means crossing that death trap, so be it. As long as she's safe, nothing else matters."

And if she's on the other side of that bridge, she definitely needs my help. She doesn't only have killers to contend with over there. Jim sets out traps, and if she walks into one, she's as good as gone.

Somewhere behind me, a man screams. Footfalls pound across twigs and leaves. I turn and watch as an older man in a pink jumpsuit stumbles and falls to the ground. A single arrow shaft juts from his right arm.

Like a silent phantom, Maudlin Rose appears from the trees, raises her bow, and fires an arrow into the man's ass. The broadhead connects with bone, and the man lets out another shrill scream.

"Nice one, Rosie!" I call toward her.

She gives me a thumbs up and a smile, raises the bow again, and finishes the job by sending another arrow into the back of the man's neck.

"Have you seen Kindra anywhere?" I call back to her.

Her smile falls, and she shakes her head.

"That's okay. Keep looking!"

She gives me another thumbs up, then makes a silent exit.

With all of us looking, surely one of us should have spotted her by now, and the fact that no one has only reinforces my need to cross the bridge. We typically hang out on this side for as long as possible, as most of the Cattle stick to this part of the jungle. We usually don't venture over there until we've snuffed out most of the life over here.

And there it is. The Ezra Carter Bridge. That's what they'll call it next year, because there is no way I'll make it across this thing.

A stiff wind sweeps through the ravine, and the ropes sway against the force. Even the birds avoid the monstrosity by flying around it instead of over it. The ropes are so frayed that a healthy shit from one of the gulls will probably send the thing straight down to the bottom.

Yet I plan to walk on it.

I step to the support posts and grip the ropes on either side of my body. I've never stood this close to the edge before, and I regret doing so now. Some of the boards have begun to rot through. Others are already gone, replaced by a thick knot. This will be like walking across a ladder over the Grand Canyon, but the rungs move and the rails are made of twine.

My love for Kindra pushes my feet forward. She may be up against something far worse than this rickety piece of shit. If I slip, I might have a chance to call for help, but there is no help for her. She's on her own.

My foot slides onto the first board, and I test my weight. The plank wobbles underfoot, but it doesn't crack or groan. This is a good start.

I take two more steps, and my confidence rises. Until I look down.

A stream cuts through the ground far below me. Rocks of all shapes and sizes line both sides of the water. The stream is too shallow to provide any sort of help, and the lack of vegetation doesn't bode well for me either. One slip and I'm done.

"Watch your step," a raspy voice says behind me. "Wouldn't want to...fall."

The bridge sways violently, and I lose my balance. It feels like I'm twisting for an eternity, but then my chest connects with the rope railing. I sling my arms over it and try to find my footing. With one foot on the board, I turn my head and see my attacker.

A woman in a yellow jumpsuit stands at the head of the bridge. She grips the bridge post with one hand as she leans over with her other hand on her knee. There's a dagger in that hand, and the wild look in her eyes tells me she isn't afraid to use it.

She has a dagger . . .

"What did you do to her?" I ask as I try to steady myself. "If you hurt Kindra?—"

"The bitch that did this to me?" She stands upright, and I see things I shouldn't be able to see. Someone has eviscerated her. "If I have to die, I'm taking all of you motherfuckers down with me!"

With a grimace, she grips the rope attached to the post and begins to shake it. My feet scramble to stay put as the bridge rocks under me, but it's no use. My left heel slides and cuts through air. My right foot loses its battle, and now I'm dangling by my hands and sheer determination.

I turn my head to beg the woman to stop, but the rope is no longer shaking. She's doubled over as she tries to shove her guts back where they belong, but they keep sliding out of her.

"As much as I'd love to stay and play, I think I'm running out of time," she rasps. "Bon voyage, motherfucker."

She raises the dagger above the rope securing the bridge to the left post. The same rope I now grip. If she cuts it, I'll be forced to climb it to the other side. I'm fairly strong, but I'm not that fucking strong.

There's only one solution. I have to get my feet back on solid ground before she can saw through the threads.

With every ounce of power in my arms, I pull myself up until I can raise my legs and get my feet onto a board. As soon as my toes touch the solid surface, she shakes the ropes again and sends me back to my previous position. I don't know how long I can keep this up.

"Did you kill her?" I ask. "At least tell me that. If you did, I can save you the trouble and let go."

"Oh, I killed her all right. Slit her pretty little throat and left her to choke on her own blood."

I smile at her. She's lying. Kindra would never let her get that close. I don't know how she came into possession of that dagger, but I feel confident she didn't take it from Kindra's corpse.

A newfound strength buzzes through me, and I hoist myself back to the board again. I only need to travel across three boards to get back to firm ground, but that's easier said than done when this bitch is halfway through the first rope.

I'll never make it.

"Can you at least give her a message for me," I say as I step to the next board, which isn't exactly simple since nearly two feet of empty space waits between them.

The woman stops sawing and rolls her eyes.

"Tell her that I love her," I say, "and I'm sorry."

Part of me thinks she'll stop, that my heartfelt words will sink through to her and she'll realize I'm just a guy who loves a girl. She could let me go. Sunshine. Rainbows. Happily ever after.

Then she lowers the blade.

And starts sawing again.

I move to the rope on the other side and hop to the next board. I don't know how this side of the bridge will behave when she cuts that rope, and I don't plan to find out. Only one more step...but I'm out of time.

The bridge gives way on the left side. The boards slant toward the water and rocks, and I lose my footing. I grip the rope still attached to the right post, but I'm walking on air now, and not in a good way. With nothing to push myself off of, I'll be forced to edge down the rope these last few feet.

The same rope the woman now turns her attention to.

Hand over hand, I move closer to the cliff's edge, but her blade is poised. If I come any closer, she'll slice through my fingers. I'm also losing steam, and I still need to hoist my body onto land.

Then, like a guardian angel, Kindra appears from the tree line.