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Flashback: The Day of the Bridges

It was the Fourth of July, and the day was clean and warm and dry as Dan drove Jane Thornton in the rented convertible down Route 101 after a morning of wine tasting in the Napa Valley vineyards. She was Senator Thornton now; during the fourteen months he’d been away in Japan, Jane had been appointed to the U.S. Senate. Yet she was just as beautiful and desirable as the day he’d left, and she appeared to love him as much as he loved her.

Dan’s gray eyes sparkled happily; his nose hadn’t yet been broken. As they sped along the highway, the warm wind ruffled her auburn hair while the brilliant sunshine made the waters of the bay shimmer. Over the rush of the wind Dan rattled away about the work he’d been doing in Japan.

“It’s only a demonstration satellite,” he said, his voice raised to be heard above the wind, “but we’ve got it working, actually sending energy to the ground.”

Jane nodded and smiled and said nothing.

When they passed Sausalito, Dan pulled off onto Bunker Road.

“We’re not going back to the city?” Jane asked, shouting.

“I want to show you the prettiest site in the country,” he yelled back. “Point Bonita.”

When he finally pulled into a parking area, Jane saw that he’d been right. They were high above the ocean; the Pacific glittered before them, and, on their left, the bridge arched gracefully across the Golden Gate, glowing like molten gold in the late afternoon sun.

“Point Bonita,” Jane said, as they walked slowly along the grassy height. “The name fits.”

“Sure does.”

She looked at him. “So you’re going back to Japan.”

Nodding: “And when I finish my contract with Yamagata I’m coming back here and start to build a real power satellite. Full scale. Deliver twenty gigawatts to the ground. Maybe fifty.”

“For Yamagata?”

“For me. For the U.S. of A. For anybody who’s smart enough to invest in the project.”

“That’ll take some doing,” she said.

“I can do it, Jane. I know I can. I can do this. It’s important, and I can make it work.”

Jane smiled at him.

“Don’t give me that condescending smile,” he said, grinning back at her. “We can generate energy from space. Lots of energy.”

“If anyone can, it would be you,” she conceded.

Feeling uncertainty rising inside him, Dan tried to explain. “Jane, this is important to me. To the whole world. I wasn’t born rich, like you. I had to scratch my way through college. Yamagata hired me because I believed in what he’s doing. Now I want to get out on my own, I want to be somebody. This is my chance, Jane, my chance to accomplish something nobody else has been able to do.”

“Except Yamagata,” she pointed out.

“Pah! His little demo satellite isn’t enough. Nowhere near it. I’m going to build the big one, the prototype for all the powersats to come.”

“If you can get the financial backing.”

“I’ll get it,” he said fervently. “You just watch me.”

Jane smiled again, but this time it was more admiring. “I believe you, Dan. I believe you will. You won’t let anything stand in your way, will you?”

“Not a damned thing,” he said. Then he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. “But I need you with me, Jane. This past year has been miserable without you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, Dan.”

“Will you marry me?”

Her eyes went wide. “Marry you?”

“I love you, Jane Thornton. I love you madly,” he said. “And sanely.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder. “You’re sure?”

He grinned down at her. “From the first time you flashed those gorgeous green eyes at me I was a goner.”

“That’s very flattering.”

“I mean it. Of course, I didn’t know you were going to become a senator. And you were the first person I’d seen in that convention hall who wasn’t smoking a cigar.”

Jane laughed. “I love you, too.”

“Really?”

“Of course. What woman wouldn’t? You can charm a snake out of its skin-when you want to.”

“Now that’s flattery!”

“You can be awfully stubborn, too.”

“I’m not stubborn. I’m a man of principle. Other people are stubborn, not me.”

Jane laughed. But then, “Seriously, Dan. Marriage is a serious step. Are you prepared to be Mr. Senator Thornton?”

Now he blinked with surprise. “But I thought you’d come back to Japan with me.”

“And resign my seat in the Senate?”

“Well… maybe when your term is finished, then.”

She fell silent. They walked along the crest of the height, their arms entwined about each other’s waists.

Dan took a breath. “Jane, you’re the most fantastic person I’ve ever met. You’re smart, strong, beautiful, wealthy—but most of all, you’re honest. Straight up-and-down honest. You never play games with anyone. You say what you mean and you mean what you say. So what’s your answer? And don’t tell me you weren’t expecting this.”

“Frankly, I wasn’t.”

“I told you not to tell me that,” he joked.

“I didn’t realize you were the marrying kind, Dan. I thought you were in love with your power satellite.”

“I am,” he admitted. “But I love you more. I need you. I don’t want to go back to Japan without you.”

Her face grew serious, almost sad. “I’ve got to make a decision about running for reelection.”

“Reelection? But I thought—”

“I was wondering, Dan,” she asked, almost wistfully, “how would you feel about being a senator’s husband?”

“Move to Washington? Quit Yamagata?”

“It wouldn’t be easy for you, I know. But you could start your own company in Washington, couldn’t you? I could help you; I know a lot of very influential people.”

“I’ve got to finish my contract with Yamagata,” he said. “I can’t run out on him. Bad enough I’m going to go into competition with him afterward.”

“You don’t really have to go back to Japan, do you?”

“You’ve definitely decided to run for reelection?”

She hesitated a heartbeat. Then, “Not set-in-concrete definitely, no.”

Dan squinted at the lowering Sun, then abruptly turned back toward the parking area. “We’d better talk about this over dinner.”

She glanced out toward the ocean. The sun was close to setting. Already the sky was turning flame red. He needs time to think about this, she realized. He’s made a major step in asking me to marry him. Now I’m asking him to completely scramble his plans.

“Over dinner,” she agreed. Reluctantly.

In the bathroom of the suite they’d taken at the St. Mark’s, Dan was slathering foamy white lather across his face, wearing the fluffy terrycloth robe that the hotel provided. Quit Yamagata’s project and move to Washington, he was thinking. Become Senator Thornton’s husband. He picked up his razor. She’d never come to Japan; it’d be stupid for me to ask her to give up everything she’s achieved just to marry me.

The explosion came like a clap of thunder, sharp and so hard that Dan dropped the razor. Dan not only heard it, he felt it. The floor jumped. Earthquake? he wondered. But now he heard a long rumbling growl.

“What the hell was that?” Dan called, his face covered with lather.

“A sonic boom?” Jane answered from the bedroom, where she was dressing for dinner.

“Didn’t sound like a sonic boom,” Dan said, reaching for his razor. This was earthquake country, he knew, although nothing seemed to be shaking. Just that one shock. The roll of toilet paper wasn’t even swaying.

From far away he heard the wail of a siren. A fire truck, maybe, or an ambulance. Then another.

“Oh my god.”

He wasn’t certain that he’d heard Jane correctly.

“What did—”

“Dan. Come here.”

“What is it?”

“Come in here! Now!” He’d never heard Jane’s voice sound so urgent. “Now, Dan!”

He grabbed a towel and started wiping the lather off his face as he stepped into the bedroom. More sirens were screaming down on the street outside. Jane had turned on the television. The screen showed the Golden Gate Bridge. The middle of its main span was covered in billowing black smoke. Where the suspension cables come down from the towers, Dan realized.

The sound was muted. Dan looked for the remote control. Then he saw the central span of the bridge split in two and both sides sagged into the water, slowly peeling away from each other like two limp strips of cardboard and plunging down, cars and trucks and buses sliding along their collapsing lengths, falling, splashing into the cold deep water far below.

“Jesus H. Christ,” Dan gasped.

Jane stood horrified, her fists pressed to her face, her eyes filling with tears.

The remote was on the floor, Dan saw. Jane must have dropped it there. She stood frozen in front of the TV screen, half dressed, unmoving, unspeaking.

Dan sat on the edge of the bed, suddenly feeling very weary, drained, as if all the energy had been sapped out of him. He bent down and retrieved the remote, thumbed on the sound.

“…no telling how many have been killed,” a voice-over was saying, shocked, hollow. The screen showed the bridge span dangling into the strait, objects still splashing into the water. “Our traffic helicopter was apparently caught in the explosion. We’ve lost contact with it. I guess it’s down there with all the other wreckage.”

Jane sank down onto the edge of the bed beside him, still stunned into silence. The screen was showing people in the streets now, dazed, staring, as billows of dirty gray smoke wafted into the bright blue sky. Police cars were arriving. Fire trucks pulled up, the firefighters looking bewildered, perplexed, with really nothing to do except stare at the shattered bridge in helpless anger.

A frightened-looking young man in his shirtsleeves appeared on the screen, obviously in the television station’s studio. His hands were trembling as he held a flimsy sheet of paper.

“We’ve just received word,” he said, his voice shaking, too, “that the Brooklyn Bridge in New York City has also been blown up. And the Sunshine Skyway Bridge over Tampa Bay in Florida has been attacked, as well.”

“Those sons of bitches,” Dan muttered. “Those murdering sons of bitches.”

For hours Jane and Dan sat there watching the horror. Three bridges destroyed. Thousands killed. Bits and scraps of information were added as the Sun sank into the Pacific, slowly turning their hotel room dark except for the flickering TV screen. A huge supertanker filled with liquefied natural gas had blown up precisely as it passed beneath the Golden Gate Bridge. The same tactic blew up the Sunshine Skyway Bridge across Tampa Bay. In New York, three trucks loaded with chemical fertilizers had stopped precisely in the center of the Brooklyn Bridge and then exploded. The terrorists presumably went up in the blast Three bridges. Thousands killed.

At nine P.M. the president of the United States appeared on television from his home in Florida, where he’d been spending the holiday weekend.

“This is a tragic Fourth of July,” he said, his face ashen, bleak. “The American people will not forget this day. Nor will we stop until the terrorists and their sponsors are rooted out and destroyed. I have ordered the secretary of defense and the Joint Chiefs of Staff to meet with me tonight…”

Once the president finished his grisly little speech, Dan clicked off the television. The only light in the room came from the window. Down in the streets sirens still wailed like lost demons keening for the dead.

Beside him, Jane stirred. “No. Turn it back on. I want to see—”

“We’ve seen it a couple dozen times, Jane. There’s nothing new to show.”

“We drove over that bridge,”she said, as if just realizing how close they had come to death. “An hour or so later and…”

“We’d be dead, along with the rest of them.”

She nodded.

“But we’re not dead, Jane. We’re alive. And I love you. I’ll protect you. We’ll be all right, I promise.”

She rested her head on his shoulder and he held her tightly. “It’s all right, Jane. We’re safe. Don’t be afraid.”

“I know,” she murmured. “I love you, Dan. I don’t ever want to be separated from you.”

He lifted her chin gently. In the shadows he could see a wisp of terrycloth fiber that clung to her cheek. He brushed it off, then kissed her.

“Let’s get married,” he said. “Right away. Tonight.”

Dabbing at her eyes, Jane made a weak smile. “You want to make an honest woman of me?”

“I want to marry you, Jane Thornton. I want you to come to Japan with me.”

“You’re going back to Japan? Now?”

“I’ve got to,” he said. “Yamagata’s demo satellite is almost finished, but there’s still a lot of work to do. And I’m under contract. I’ve got to go back.”

She said nothing for a moment. Then, “And I’ve got a reelection campaign to start planning for.”

“But that’s years away, isn’t it?”

“There are only one hundred senators in the world, Dan. I’m not going to give that up. I can’t.”

“But—”

“Dan, it’s my career. My world. Now, with this terror attack, I’ve got to be there.”

He nodded glumly.

“You can get out of your contract with the Japanese.”

“But I don’t want to:”

“You don’t? Why?”

“That power satellite is vital. More important now than ever.”

“With this terrorist attack, and more to come, you think playing in outer space is important?”

“It’s not playing! Jane, if we can get electrical power from space, we can thumb our noses at the Arabs and their oil.”

She stared at him as if she couldn’t believe what he was saying. “Dan, that will take years! If ever. We have to fight the terrorists now.”

“As long as we’re dependent on oil from the Middle East they’ll have us by the short hairs.”

“And you think going into space is going to help us?”

“Yes! Generate power from space—”

“In a hundred years, maybe.”

“Ten! Five, maybe, if we push it.”

“Ten years,” Jane said. “My god, Dan, ten years is as good as a century in politics.”

“If we don’t start now, we’ll never have it!”

“The costs,” Jane muttered. “Everything NASA does costs so much.”

“It can be done cheaper.”

“It will still costs billions, won’t it?”

Feeling exasperated, trying not to lose his temper, Dan replied, “Give me ten percent of what the oil industry spends on digging dry holes each year, and I’ll put up a full-scale powersat.”

“It can’t be done,” she said, shaking her head.

“It can’t be done unless somebody goes out and does it!”

“And that’s what you want to do? With everything else that’s happening, you want to go play in outer space.”

He bit back the reply he wanted to make. Instead, he said simply, “I’m going back to Japan. I’ve got to.”

“For how long?”

“A year, maybe a little less.”

“A year.”

He clutched her by her bare shoulders. “Jane, come with me. Forget this political crap. Come with me and help build the future!”

Even in the darkened room he could see her eyes blaze. But only for a moment; then she softened. She put her head back on his shoulder, murmuring, “I wish I could, Dan. I really wish I could.”

“But you won’t.”

“I can’t.”

“Will you marry me?”

“With you in Japan or up in a spaceship someplace?”

He smiled. Sadly. “It’s only a few hundred miles up, Yamagata’s demo satellite.”

“My place is in Washington, Dan.”

“But what about us? You love me, don’t you?”

Dan could feel his heart thumping beneath his ribs. For many beats Jane was silent At last she said, “We’ll talk about that when you come back from Japan.”

The room fell silent except for the continuing wailing of sirens.