Her mind wandered as she sat in the passenger seat, staring blankly out the window. The only sound her ears picked up on were the poetic rhythm of rubber tires meeting the seams through the toll bridge; Thwa-thump, thwa-thump, thwa-thump. She could smell the salty air from the bay below married with exhaust from the vehicles surrounding their car. Even though her body was tense, her knuckles white with fear, it was all soothing to her. It was the finality of her knowing the outcome. It was knowing that her visions will finally come to fruition.
Her head lolled as she toned out the driver next to her droning on about “See, this is an irrational fear. Nothing is going to happen to you. What you thought would go wrong, isn’t going wrong now is it?” She just looked at him, crossed her arms over her chest in a defensive stance, rolled her eyes obviously saying, “Like you know what you’re talking about.”
Just as she opened her mouth to give a flippant response, he slammed the brakes. Her arms flung out ahead of her, gripping the dash as a brace. Her head whipped around quicker than a snap. Around them a gridlock of cars stood eerily still, all having their cars seize simultaneously. Her window open slightly, she could only hear the sounds of gulls in the sky, water lapping the support beams below, and the wind whisking through the breeze way. Her psychotherapist sat next to her, mouth agape as he tried to figure out what was happening; his mind not fully receiving the obvious. He left his car idling, looking around him in complete awe. He could count only a handful of cars, less than that really, still running. Then the percussion hit.
The Astoria – Merger Bridge was laid out before them, steady and strong looking from a distance, now showed how vulnerable it was. It stands 200ft high bringing together Oregon and Washington. It was an eyesore to her, as her visions have been plaguing her, mindset on the events starting with this bridge.
She watched as a plane in the distances began a rapid decent, as it had no control or electronics working. It tumbled and tossed like laundry in a dryer, flipping and spinning towards the water surrounding them. The sound rode in on the percussion, and both violently pelted the bridge. It flopped around like an epileptic during a seizure. The bridge began to roll as if it were privy to an earthquake. It rolled, bouncing the people in their cars around like popcorn in hot oil. She too rocked her in her seat.
Still griping the dash board for dear life, eyes wide as fright, she turned to her therapist and said, “…And so it begins.”