Chapter 16: Trolls Under the Bridge

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The water was hard. There was a splash and then cold wetness, but instead of sinking down into the longing embrace of the underlying bilge, my already ruined face smacked against something hard. I was lying face-down in about three inches of water.

I craned my neck to keep my face above the surface. Yards of black river extended in both directions, but there was something solid underneath me. I sat up and realized that the river was swollen to the point that the water flowed just inches above the top of the concrete supports directly under the bridge. I was on the flat surface of a large, upright cylinder that supported the massive iron stilts of the trestle. Had Benoit thrown me out just two more feet farther, I would have been playing Jonah to some freshwater whale by now.

I was getting sick and tired of this shit. For once I wish I would stop catching these lucky breaks and just die already.

Shadows moved around me. I looked up to try and see what the hell was going on. Above me, light from the train was reflecting off of the trestle in bitter angles, casting moving shadows as it came closer. Water rushed over my ankles as I scuffled closer to the upright support beam where tree branches, paper cups, and a host of other debris was trapped against its base by the river’s current. On the beam, about chest high, there was a rusty, jagged gash in the iron beam. I positioned my wrists against it and worked the rope into the gash.

The beam was slick with mildew and the rope was too wet to catch against the sharpness of the edge. It kept sliding as I tried to cut the rope. My arms ached and I was exhausted.

The train screamed overhead, shaking the entire bridge. Bits of dust and debris rained down on me in sharp, irritating bursts. I tried to use my legs as leverage to help the rope dig in, but between the shaking from the train and the slime below, my feet slipped and shot out from under me. My feet were above the water for a second then came down with a splash. Problem was, there was no concrete support beneath where they hit and they slid down into darkness. The tag team of current and gravity yanked me away from the beam, but the rope that held my wrists together was lodged in the gash and was keeping me from being swept out into the dark water. And it was tearing my shoulders apart.

That’s when the rope decided to tear.

My arms splayed wide and there was an immense release of pressure and pain in my shoulders, but the reprieve was short lived as the water swept me out away from the beam. The concrete support was still beneath me but my feet were over the edge now where the current was swirling and sucking me in. My fingernails scraped against the lichen covered concrete but couldn’t find purchase.

I flailed about, grabbing desperately at anything until my hands found one of the tree branches lodged against the beam. I held onto it and tried to pull myself back onto the concrete, but the current whorled around me and tried to suck me straight down. It slammed me against the side of the support and I had to hold my breath as I went under.

The branch was slick but my grip held. I pulled myself above the surface and onto the support. Hand over hand I hauled myself up with the branch and forced my way back to the beam. It was cold, slimy, and sharp but I held on to it like a newborn to its mother’s breast.

I stayed there until the train passed and then for a while longer. Even though it was a hot summer night, I shivered. The iron was cold against my face and the sound of the water was soothing. I thought it was a good time for a nap.

“Damn, dude, you okay down there?”

I looked up to see two faces looking down at me from the framing just beneath the tracks.

“Yeah. I’m Jim-fuckin’-Dandy.” They just stared at me like I was some specter from the deep. And I could smell the stench of weed coming off of them in waves. “How long have you guys been sitting there?”

“Oh dude, we saw the whole thing. Man that was fucked up!” The kid who spoke was about twenty, thin with short well groomed hair. The other one looked a bit older but like he took less care of himself. His hair was longer and his face was riddled with acne.

“You guys saw the whole thing, huh? And you didn’t think to, oh I don’t know, help?”

“We heard you on the tracks and thought you might be cops.”

“Hautian cops don’t throw people from bridges.” I stood up, making sure I had a firm grip on the beam.

“Hey, we don’t want to get involved in any mob shit, either, man. Those guys looked like serious players.”

It took me a couple of tries to keep from sliding as I shimmied my way up the beam. Once I got up high enough to grab some of the support beams, the two stoners reached out to help me. They pulled me into a little alcove littered with cigarette butts, beer cans, and several pairs of underwear. I didn’t ask.

“Thanks,” I said. The discomfort of wearing wet denim was distracting enough that I almost forgot about the horrible shape my head was in. My t-shirt was a sodden and blood stained rag and one of my boots had come off while I was struggling to keep from drowning.

Stoner number one squinted at me. “Jesus dude, is that your skull?”

“Probably.” I entertained the idea of inspecting the tear in my head but was afraid that if I actually felt my exposed skull I’d pass out. “You guys students?”

“Yeah, I’m Steve. This is Dwayne.” Stoner number one nodded at the mention of his name. “We should get you to a hospital, man.”

“No, I need to get to the library. Is it still open?” Steve and Dwayne looked at each other like I was the one baked out of my mind. “Look, guys, I don’t have time to fuck around. You two are students, right? So how late is the library open?”

Dwayne looked at his watch. “About another hour.”

“Good.” I started to climb up to the tracks.

“Uh, they don’t have any doctors at the library, dude.”

My arms were turning into limp noodles. I straddled a wooden plank and rested for a second. “No, but they have computers.”

“They won’t let you use them without a student I.D.”

“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing I ran into the two of you. Let’s go.”

Steve started waving me off as Dwayne glanced back and forth between us. “Look man, if it’s all the same, we’re just going to stay here and smoke out. We don’t want any trouble.”

“Well if you don’t want trouble, I suggest you start climbing.” I stood up on the beam and started up.

“Hey, dude. We can appreciate that you were just dumped in the river. That sucks, wholesale. We’ll call you an ambulance if you want, but we’re not taking you to the library. We’re not stupid. We know how this shit works.”

I stopped. “Yeah? And how’s that?” I asked.

“Dude, if somebody sees you with us, those mob guys’ll be throwing us in the river. I’m not sticking my neck out for you. I don’t know who the fuck you are or why they dumped you. For all I know you’re a child molester or something.”

“Would you feel more comfortable if I showed you some ID?”

Steve took a step forward and said, “Look, we don’t want to get mixed up—”

“I don’t have time to argue. Please, I need your help. Now would you just get your shit together and start climbing.”

Dwayne stood up, his hands balled into fists at his side. “I told you. We’re not going anywhere with you. Anybody dumped by the mob must be up to no good. We helped you out of the river, so we’re cool. But if you think you’re gonna start bossin’ us around, I’m gonna have to open up a can of whoop-ass on ya.”

That did it. “Let me explain something to you, Dwayne.” I jumped back down to the little platform. Dwayne and Steve both took a step back. “In the past week I’ve been tied down to a bed and raped by a ferret, had my head opened up with a crowbar, run over by a Cadillac, had my ex-wife try and turn my face into a handbag, beaten bloody, stuffed into the trunk of a car and then tied up and tossed into the river for fish bait. I’ve been drinking cans of ‘whoop-ass’ for the past four days straight, so if you want to open up another one, then you go right ahead. Because I’m still thirsty.”

Truth was Steve and Dwayne could have easily kicked the shit out of me and tossed me back in the river and there would have been little I could have done to stop it. I had lost a lot of blood and I was so tired I could barely stand. Aside from the mangled state my head was in, my jeans were starting to chafe. But I was banking on the hope that these two jokers had never seen a man with half his face hanging from his skull crawl out of the river after a couple of mobsters left him for dead.

“Whoa, man, it’s cool. We just don’t want your mob friends coming after us, that’s all.”

“They won’t. As far as they know, I’m dead and the two of you were never here. So you’ve got nothing to worry about. I’m running out of time guys. Let’s go.”

We all made it to the top of the tracks and started the tightrope walk back to terra firma. “You sure you don’t want to see a doctor, man?” Steve asked. “No offense, but you look messed up wholesale, bro.”

“No time. I’ve got an auction I’ve got to bid on.”

“EBay?”

I nodded as I took careful steps along the railroad ties. After the nightmare of the last fifteen minutes, I didn’t need to twist an ankle.

“Why mess with the library? Just come to my place. I’ve got DSL. I can get you hooked up.”

I watched Dwayne hit Steve and give him a stern look. These guys wanted nothing to do with me and I certainly didn’t blame them. But walking into the library in my condition was going to end up with someone calling security. Steve’s idea sounded like a better solution.

“Sounds good, Steve. But we have to stop and get my Jeep first. Hey, what size shoes do you wear?”

“Nine, why?”

I pointed to my shoeless right foot. “That’s too small. How about you Dwayne. What size do you wear?”

“Man, what are we getting out of this? I mean, I know you’ve got it rough and all, but why do I have to be the one runnin’ the charity ward?”

I stopped. We were about fifty feet from where Darby and her crew had pulled me out of the trunk. The car was gone. “You a P● fan, Dwayne?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, they’re pretty cool.”

“Well, if you guys hook me up, I’ll hook you up. Deal?”

“You got tickets or something?”

For the first time in a while it turned out to be a good thing that Rick was my brother. “Rick Asher’s my brother. I think I can do better than just tickets.”

Dwayne actually smiled. “Rick’s brother? No shit. Right on!” We stepped off the tracks and into the grass. It felt so much better on my naked foot than the tar and splinter covered railroad ties. But after a few seconds I noticed that Dwayne wasn’t walking with us. Steve and I stopped and looked back.

Dwayne was ten feet away, staring at me. “Rick Asher’s brother. That means you’re related to…”

It was like this every time. Guilt by association. “Yeah.”

Dwayne’s blank stare turned into a wide-toothed grin. “That’s so cool!”

“Oh yeah,” I said. “Fan-fuckin’-tabulous.”

As we walked back to the Jeep, I wondered if I could get Cerberus to eat them both in a single sitting.