Hell's Gate Bridge Alabama Novels & Stories

That was enough. “My father can't walk on his own. My mother is quite weak. But overall, they are both fine.” Alyssa looked as if she were about to comment further on that. Finally, she led me toward the bridge. Below the bridge, the riverbed was temporarily dry, revealing a layer of mud with frogs and mudskippers jumping up and down. “Can you sculpt this bridge? Just the railings. I'm thinking of adding a gate on both sides. On Sunday, the kids will run across; they’ll be excited if they see something new. After all, this bridge is quite boring to them now.”

“Oh good, we’re all dying tonight! *Encore!*” Ace revved the engine, tires spitting gravel as the SUVs surged closer. “Dawson,” he barked into the radio static. “Where’s the exit?” “*Two miles north. Bridge. Make it count.*” Valerie leaned between the seats, her scar catching moonlight. “Bridge? You mean the *death trap* bridge?” “Trust me,” Ace muttered, swerving as bullets peppered the rear windshield. “Trust’s a strong word,” I said, bracing against the dashboard.

No one stopped to talk to us and we didn’t spare any one a glance as we reached the gate. The four men guarding the door nodded their heads at us respectfully and opened the door to let us go. We walked further through the forest until we reached our rendezvous point, the spot we portaled to last night by Davina. Alec picked up his phone from his pocket and sent a message. A minute later, the familiar blue circle of a portal started to materialize in front of us. Alec didn’t waste any time and stepped right through it. I held out my hand for her to hold and she held it back with no hesitation. She wasn’t nervous nor curious about the place we were headed to because to her, it was all the sam

Karimba Cellon reached the location Sam Goodwin had mentioned and spotted a familiar figure standing on the bridge. He swiftly gauged the distance between Alley Houston and the water below, estimating it to be about fifty meters, enough to turn the water's surface as rigid as ice. "Alley Houston, are you out of your mind? Come down from there!" Karimba Cellon called out to the person on the bridge. Alley Houston glanced downward, her eyes brimming with sorrow and grief, all mirroring Karimba Cellon's own reflection. A wry smile mixed with tears formed on her face.

She needed to see who it was that had summoned her here; she needed to know what the other person wanted. The door was about a foot open already. It took no effort whatsoever to push it the rest of the way. The light was bright when she walked in, but not so bright that she had to squint. She was shocked that The Bridge was actually a bridge and not just some sort of slaughterhouse, or a room with bloodstains on the floor. The Mothers had gone to great lengths to ensure their fabrication was as believable as possible until the bitter end. The bridge was constructed of some sort of metallic material that glimmered in a soft silver light. Either side had a white railing that might’ve been made

He asked, disbelievingly, "Why would she want to jump off a bridge?" Adelaide didn't waste time explaining. She bolted for the door, shouting her command, "Start the car! Now!" The Soul-Crusher Bridge was located in the northwest of the capital, spanning the Gale River. The river was notoriously violent in that section—the channel was wide on top and narrow below, with a sharp drop-off that made the water churn violently. If anyone fell in, survival was nearly impossible. The bridge's official name was the "Gale Second Bridge," but due to the frequency of accidents, residents had privately nicknamed it the Soul-Crusher Bridge.

It was a physical paper map, scavenged from some old municipal office. Torque slammed his heavy metal finger onto a red circle drawn on the map. "The Ash-Fall Bridge," Torque said. "It's the only major land crossing over the toxic river that separates Sector 7 from Sector 8. It's the only way heavy armor can cross into the Rust Belt." "Let me guess," Leo rumbled, stepping forward, the machine gun resting easily against his hip. "They're crossing it."

rasp, barely rising above the roar of the fire in the floors above. He found them at the "Bridge of Sighs"—a narrow, natural stone arch that spanned the gap between the internal Archive and the hidden river exit. The bridge was barely three feet wide, suspended over a two-hundred-foot drop into the churning, icy waters of the Appalachian gorge. The Guardian of the Threshold

If a bridge was truly what they were looking for, clearly they had found it. Caleb took her hand and led her towards the bridge, merging with the traffic. She looked up, and was overwhelmed at the sight. It was unlike any bridge she had ever seen. Its entrance was heralded by a huge, arched gate, with guards on either side. At its top were multiple spikes, on which sat severed heads, blood dripping from their throats, impaled on the spikes. It was a gruesome sight, and Caitlin averted her gaze. "I remember this," sighed Caleb. “From centuries ago. This is how they always adorned their bridges: with heads of prisoners. They do it as a warning to other criminals.”

"The servers are gone. The Wolves are at the gate. There is no more data to sell." Elena pushed herself up, her white leathers stained with red dirt and oil. She didn't look like a Queen anymore. She looked like a ghost that had finally run out of places to haunt. She looked toward the burning hangar, then back at me, a slow, terrifying smile spreading across her lips. "You think Dax Steele is the only one who knows how to plant a charge?" she whispered. My blood turned to ice. I looked down at the bridge supports. Hidden beneath the faux-concrete pillars were the same high-intensity thermite packs I'd seen in the Daytona bunkers. This bridge wasn't just a set for a movie; it was a giant, el