Apocalypticon
““Sorry we can’t drop you closer,” Horace said with a frown. “Not sure what happened to the bridge. It was there two days ago.”
Patrick looked grimly out the train window at what used to be the MacArthur Bridge. Now it was the MacArthur Chasm. Strangely reminiscent of the bombed-out Chicago River bridges, the MacArthur was blackened at its ragged iron edges on either side of the bank. By leaning right up against the window, Patrick could peer over and see a few of the splintered railroad tre...stles caught against an anchored barge in the yellow foam-crusted river below. “It makes crossing tricky,” he admitted.
“I can jump that,” Ben said.
Horace’s bushy mustache twitched. He flipped open his pocket watch and sighed. “This is gonna set us back an hour at least. We’ll need to backtrack up to the interchange north of the MLK and reroute to the secondary track there,” he said, pointing to another line of tracks far below them, at ground level.MoreLess
Patrick looked grimly out the train window at what used to be the MacArthur Bridge. Now it was the MacArthur Chasm. Strangely reminiscent of the bombed-out Chicago River bridges, the MacArthur was blackened at its ragged iron edges on either side of the bank. By leaning right up against the window, Patrick could peer over and see a few of the splintered railroad tre...stles caught against an anchored barge in the yellow foam-crusted river below. “It makes crossing tricky,” he admitted.
“I can jump that,” Ben said.
Horace’s bushy mustache twitched. He flipped open his pocket watch and sighed. “This is gonna set us back an hour at least. We’ll need to backtrack up to the interchange north of the MLK and reroute to the secondary track there,” he said, pointing to another line of tracks far below them, at ground level.MoreLess
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