Mara climbed up a sloping alley that paralleled the base of the bridge and rose to Main Street, ending at a pile of rubble, one of the shattered obelisks that marked the span’s on-ramp. Ping trailed a couple steps behind. She turned to walk up the fractured ramp toward the river. He grabbed her arm.
“Please tell me what you are about to do.” He looked around, worried the destruction had drawn attention. Thanks to the lingering smog of moisture, smoke and dust, downtown Oregon City remained shrouded in darkness despite the first rays of dawn overhead. Streetlights were still out, and no lights shone from buildings.
“There is no time to discuss it,” Mara said. “Just watch and wish me luck.”
She turned away from him before he could respond. She faced the rubble of the bridge’s approach, bo
