Under The Bridge Book Review Novels & Stories

As a student, he had been deeply moved by The Bridge of San Luis Rey, Thornton Wilder's novel about five strangers who perished together on a collapsing bridge. Naturally, when he started his new job in Nevada he began to dwell on the notions of fate and predestination. He chose to craft a modern take on the classic tale where-in his version-the strangers' lives intersected at the instant of a terror attack. Bernie got his tea, "Thank you, honey. Keep an eye out for my next meeting, okay?" Roz cleared Peter's line of sight

I stifled a growl and let Kristina lead the way. There was a man- made bridge across the river, and I realized that it was mechanical and could be raised and lowered from the other side. Smart. The river made an excellent barrier. The man lowered his bridge and gave us a friendly wave, which immediately put me on edge. They had taken great pains to protect themselves, but they were just going to let us through even though they didn't know us? Something just didn't fucking add up. I allowed my wolf to surface and inhale deeply. Zara was right. They smelled more human than not, but something was just a little off.

“Then we slow it more.” The silence that followed was worse than an argument. On the seventh day, the frost pulsed. That was the only way I could describe it—the ice along the ground seemed to thicken and thin in waves, like breath. When I knelt by the root, I felt the heat surging through it, frantic, desperate. The book lay open when I turned. “When the bridge stands alone, the water wins.” The stranger stood at the gate before I could stop them, their hand on the latch.

“The bridge won’t last! If you really want to save us, outrun the music!” Maya and Julian sprinted. Neon planks crumbled behind them. Every step was risky. Maya’s lungs burned. Her legs felt impossibly heavy. But she never let go of Julian’s hand. They made it to the other side just as the bridge collapsed into the white void. Now, they stood on an island made of floating books—safe, for the moment. But the world around them was a storm of colliding stories. Maya glanced at her hand. The iron key glowed again, showing a map.

No one stopped to help. By the time we hit the ravine, there were nine of us left. The path narrowed to a metal bridge suspended over a hundred-foot drop. It swayed with every step, bolts groaning. I could see the stress points Ash had marked. The bridge was designed to collapse once enough weight hit the center. I waited for the lead racers to cross first. Kade charged ahead, confident and stupid. Three others followed. The bridge groaned but held. Then the girl who'd been shaking ran across. The bridge buckled.

“That is not good enough! I’ll take her across.” “Sir, I can’t allow that.” Z shoved him aside. “Follow me,” he told Rai. “Keep your hand on my shoulder. Understand?” The two of them lowered onto the precarious bridge and walked their way across 100 feet. “Tell me what you see,” she said. “An abyss of darkness below us. Tree tops. A bridge that should be illegal, and mountains capped with snow.” “No, Z. Tell me what you really see. Allow me to experience this through your eyes.”

Mahali’s past was painfully torturers: Lillian was making her happy and it was a good therapy. “Wow! Why didn’t we come here as soon as possible?” Lillian said staring with wonder down at the huge cascading crystal falls beneath the Sky bridge. The Sky bridge connects the upper lands to the lower lands. The sky bridge was huge. It was about 10 miles wide and more than a hundred miles long. It was the biggest arched bridge that Lillian had ever seen. Beneath it the crystal falls cascaded from the upper lands onto the lower lands. It was the biggest waterfall that Lillian had ever seen. In fact, it was bigger by a hundred times even the biggest waterfall on earth.