Red Earth Review #1

bridge or to die on the bridge. The winds howled louder, the way they do when a hurricane is coming. He stood up and shed layer upon layer of fear, as if coming in from a winter storm. There was nothing to be scared of anymore.

Nicky stepped out into the middle of the right lane and began hiking up the bridge. The angle was so steep that he could not see anything except bridge, more bridge and black sky. For all he knew, the road ended at the top and he would fall off into the sea from an incredible height. Approaching traffic had to aggressively swerve and they let loose their horns on him, rolled down their windows and screamed at him. He did not hear them.

His feet kept moving. keep your feet moving he reminded himself. Keep your feet moving. If he stopped, he knew for certain he would die there. Keep your feet moving.

The bridge seemed to get steeper. Nicky felt as though he could reach out and touch the concrete in front of him as he climbed higher and higher, scaling more than walking. The bridge swayed horribly with the gusting winds, as if it were about to collapse. The cars crossed the seams in the road and the noise of it thundered into his ears. Keep your feet moving! He dropped to a knee several times and each time was slower to recover. He was certain he was not going to make it.

Practically crawling, Nicky arrived at the top of the bridge, hundreds of feet above the water, just as the sun broke above the horizon for him. The two of them, Nicky and the sun, stood face to face and regarded each other the way soldiers do after a victory. Galveston was now at his feet. He could even see past Galveston, to the gulf, an endless pool brilliantly reflecting the reds and yellows of the sun. It seemed as if he could see forever.

He was horrified and proud, at the top of the world with his only friend. He stood as tall as he could and spread his arms as if preparing to fly off the bridge, utterly fearless. He turned and he could see Houston, once again small in the distance. He raised his arms again to taunt it. Hah! A line of cars went by meekly, without a peep. Nicky turned back to Galveston, dug out his ball cap and pulled it low on his head again. He clenched his hands into fists and then he walked down into Galveston to find a hamburger joint. *** Mr. Santiago would not visit Houston again for twenty years, not until his father’s death, not until a girl with metallic-blue hair 96