The bridge always seemed other-worldly to her. Whenever she and her family crossed it, Sally felt like she was crossing into another dimension like a portal in those sci-fi shows that her kid brother always watched. But now she was going to cross-over into the unknown.

   She got to the mouth of the bridge and lookedfor the entrance to the catwalk that ran under the bridge. The catwalk was 24 inches wide. It was there for workers to use when they had to perform maintenance on the bridge. It was also a Friday night hangout for the local kids.

   She had been there many times with Cindy, Tommy and Lenny. They would go there and hang out. The other kids that went to the bridge would smoke pot and drink beer and get rowdy. Sally and her friends just liked going there to watch the river flow and get a burst of adrenaline from being so high up and feeling the wind caress their bodies and even their souls. It made them feel alive.

   One cold, windy Sunday morning, Sally and Cindy got up early and ran the length of the bridge. The rush they felt from the run could not be described. Looking down at the water, Sally felt like she was running on air. The experience was sublime. After that first run, she and Cindy ran the bridge at least once a month. It was their thing.

   Then the county got wise and put a gate at both ends of the catwalk. They also started conducting catwalk tours of the bridge. They made a big deal about it on YouTube and people from all over started coming to it. The catwalk had become a tourist attraction to a town not known for tourism or anything else.

   Sally worked her way around the gate and stepped onto the catwalk. Her heart was pounding. She could feel the beats in her ears. She started walking down the bridge. It was pitch black. She felt the wind caress her face; the wind seemed to encourage her to continue. She reached out with both hands and lightly wrapped her fingers around the guardrails.

   As she approached the halfway point, she noticed a red light moving around one of the cross beams. As she got closer, she realized it was a cigarette, but she couldn’t see who was holding it.

   She got to the halfway point and was startled to see a man smoking the cigarette and sitting on the beam with his legs dangling down. He was very casual about it like he didn’t realize or care that he was sitting 650 feet above an icy river.

   The man was dressed very sharply. He wore a black single-breasted wool suit, a red shirt and a white skinny tie. He looked like a musician from some jazz club. His hair was jet black and slicked back. He took long deliberated drags off his cigarette and slowly let the smoke out through his nostrils. Every now and then, he would blow smoke rings.

“Hello,” the man said to Sally.

“Hi,” replied Sally.

“Nice night,” he said in a very casual tone like they were at some smoked-filled dive bar just before last call.

“I guess,” Sally said.

“You guess?” he said, “Either it is or it isn’t”. He stood up and leaned against one of the vertical beams. Sally was amazed at how easily he maneuvered himself around the beams.

“You came out here for a reason right?” he continued, “So it must be the right night for what you are about to do. Right?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Sally said while wondering how he knew.

“I know a lot of things about you,” he said as he approached her.

“Who are you,” said Sally, “and why are you here?”

“I go by a lot of names,” he said, “but you can call me Bob, Sally.”

Bob then leaped like a rabbit towards Sally and gently landed on the catwalk.

Sally stepped back. She wanted to turn and run, but her body would not respond.

“Bob!” a woman’s voice shouted from behind Sally.

   It startled the girl. She turned to face a tall beautiful woman who wore a flowing white robe. Her skin was pale almost luminescent. It was like there was a light was shining from within the robe. The woman’s blonde hair flowed in the wind. Her blazing light blue eyes dazzled like diamonds.

“Bob?” the woman continued, “Is that the best you can do?”

“Around these parts,” Bob said, “a lot of people are called Bob.”

   Sally pressed her back against the guardrail and gripped it with both hands; she looked at both of them like she was watching a tennis match. Bob was to her left, and the woman in white was to her right.

“Hi Sally, my name is Bridgette,” said the woman in that tone of voice reserved for high school guidance counselors, “I’m here to help you. Has Bob been bothering you?”

   Sally shook her head. She was confused. She had no idea as to what was happening yet she was afraid to ask.

“Bridgette?” the man said with a grin on his face.

“It was the best I could do at the last minute,” said Bridgette, “besides it seems apropos. Don't you think?”

   Bob let out a roar of laughter that seemed to shake the bridge. When he was done, Bob’s breath left a sulfur-like odor in the cold, crisp air. Sally inched closer to Bridgette. The woman emitted a warm wholesome feeling. It reminded Sally of her grandma’s kitchen.

“Could,” Sally stammered, “you two please explain to me who you are and what you are doing here.”

“Sally, we’ve been dispatched to help you,” Bob said.

“Yes,” the woman added, “it seems you want to end your life. Am I right? But quite frankly, we can't let you. ”

“Yes…wait! What?” Sally said more confused than before.

“You see, Sally,” Bob continued, “there is a thing called Random Predestination, and you cannot die tonight.”

“Or for a long time for that matter,” said Bridgette.

“Is this some kind of sick joke?” asked Sally, “I did come out here to jump off this bridge and that is exactly what I’m going to do. Later, Losers!”

   Sally grabbed the guardrail and like a gymnast dismounting from the parallel bars she hurled herself over the rail.

   Like a lightning bolt, Bob darted over the rails and grabbed Sally by her hair. Both of them floated in the air. Sally screamed more from the fact that she could not understand how this was possible than from her fall.

“Let go of me,” Sally shouted as Bob gently landed her back on the catwalk.

   Like a cat in flight, Sally leaped over again. This time a beam of light shot from Bridgette’s left hand. The beam encased Sally in a bubble which floated in the air.

“Don’t try to get out,” Bridgette said in a motherly tone, “it will not burst. Now, sit down young lady and listen to what we have to say.”

   Sally was so scared she pissed in her pants. To hide her shame, she sat down cross-legged in the bubble.

“As I was saying,” Bob resumed his lecture like a professor who was mildly amused by a student’s petulant outburst, “Random Predestination is when a human, such as you, is destined to do something very important only randomly.”

“Who are two?” Sally pleaded, “Please tell me so I can at least figure out what is going on here.”

“Sally, we really don’t have much time to explain it,” Bridgette said, “But in the most simplistic terms, we are your guardian angel ….”

“And demon,” Bob said finishing Bridgette’s sentence and taking a bow in a flourish.

“Secular people would call us your conscience,” said Bridgette sounding like a counselor.

“We guide you through your decision process,” said Bob, “Especially, when you have to make a moral decision.”

“We only materialize,” added Bridgette, “in cases of dire emergency like right now.”

“So why save me?” said Sally, “I mean what is this great thing that I’m supposed to do that I can’t kill myself tonight? When will I do this thing that I’m destined to do?”

“That’s the problem,” said Bob, “We don’t know because it is random. But we cannot let you kill yourself. Not now; not ever.”

"But if you're a demon, why are trying to talk me out of killing myself?" Sally asked, "Shouldn't you be talking me into jumping?"

"Exactly," answered Bridgette, "But you see, you have a Random Predestination waiver, which means we can't let you die. Especially by your hands."

Sally looked at Bob. He raised his eyebrows and nodded his head. She then looked at Bridgette who bit her lip as she nodded her head too.

"Yet, neither of you can tell me what I'm presdestined to do because it is random."

"You got it, babe," Bob said pointing his fingers at Sally like they were guns. 

   Pink streamers pierced the sky as the sun started to muscle its way through the darkness. In the morning light, Sally got a better look at the woman. She noticed her robe was translucent and that there was nothing underneath, she was just a head and arms. On the other hand, Bob was solid, or at least he looked it.

   The bubble encasing Sally moved over the catwalk. It burst and dropped the confused girl on the steel platform. Sally crouched down and didn’t move. Then she lay down on her side; curled up into the fetal position, and fell asleep. 

“What are you doing here,” said Cindy, “I was trying to contact you all night. I wanted to see if you were up for a run, and I find you here.”

   In a daze, Sally staggered to her feet. She gripped the guardrail. She looked at Cindy. She looked down at the catwalk and noticed a cigarette butt. Next to the butt were what looked like two pairs of footprints in the morning dew.

“I need to get home,” Sally said as she walked past her friend.

“What evah,” said Cindy and continued on her run.

 Constructive Criticism Welcomed!

Under the Bridge © Trudge164, 2011

 Soul Collectors Series

 Under the Bridge

Collecting Souls

Part One: Bridgette on Miracle Mile, Coral Gables