Chapter 3 - The Broken Bridge
By the second day, they reached the Serpentine River. According to Thomas’s map, the old stone bridge was the only way across to the safe zone.
But when they reached the riverbank, Thomas’s heart sank.
The bridge was gone, destroyed by a tactical air strike. Its massive stone arches lay shattered in the rushing, icy water below, creating a barrier of jagged rocks and violent rapids.
"We can't cross here," Thomas muttered, studying the map. "The nearest shallow crossing is five miles upstream. But that area is heavily patrolled by enemy scouts."
Liam looked at the rushing water, his small hand gripping Thomas's sleeve tighter. "I can't swim, Thomas."
"You don't have to, buddy," Thomas said, looking upstream. "I've got you."
The detour was dangerous. They had to leave the cover of the forest and move along the edge of the rocky cliffs. Every step was exposed, and the physical toll on Thomas was beginning to show. His leg, which had been nicked by shrapnel on the first day, was stiff and burning with pain.
To keep Liam distracted, Thomas began to play a game. "See those clouds, Liam? What do they look like to you?"
May you like
Liam looked up, squinting against the pale sun. "That one looks like a giant bread roll. The one Grandma used to bake."
"Then that’s what we're walking toward," Thomas smiled, adjusting the straps of his heavy pack. "A giant kitchen in the sky."
