Brenda opened her mouth.
Dana turned to Miller.
“Sergeant, the county is exercising emergency access authority. Clear the bridge.”
Miller nodded.
“Gladly.”
For the first time that morning, Brenda looked genuinely uncertain.
Ramirez walked toward her golf cart.
“Ma’am, you can move it yourself, or we’ll have it removed.”
She hesitated.
Then, with a furious expression, she climbed into the cart and drove it off the roadway.
A cheer went up from the waiting residents.
And just like that, the original bridge was open.
I should have been satisfied.
Everyone should have driven away.
But Dana was still studying the canal.
She pointed toward the concrete span.
“There’s another problem.”
“What?”
“County engineering reported possible scour around the eastern support after last week’s flooding. They hadn’t completed the follow-up inspection.”
Miller looked at her.
“Is it safe?”
“I don’t know.”
She walked to the bridge, examined the support area, and called an engineer over the radio.
Ten minutes later, we had our answer.
The county would not authorize vehicle traffic across the concrete bridge until a structural inspection was completed.
Brenda had accidentally blocked a bridge that might not have been safe anyway.
The irony was so powerful I nearly laughed.
Unfortunately, we still had more than a hundred residents trapped on the wrong side of a canal.
Dana turned to us.
“Mr. Mercer, I need a realistic answer. Can your system provide a safe emergency crossing under these conditions?”
Little Dave stepped forward.
“Potentially. But only for a limited class of vehicles, at low speed, one at a time, with controlled access. We’d need a proper bank assessment and deployment before the wind exceeds our operational limits.”
Dana checked her watch.
Then the weather update on her radio.
“We have a narrow window.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” I said.
She looked at me.
“Don’t get heroic. Get precise.”
I liked her immediately.
We began.
The first step was preparing the approaches.
Big Dave positioned the ground-protection mats while Little Dave checked the soil conditions and anchor locations.
I directed the flatbed into position and unloaded the launch cradle.
The work moved quickly because we’d practiced it before.
Not in a hurricane.
Not with a crowd watching.
And certainly not with an HOA president threatening to call her lawyer every ninety seconds.
But the fundamentals were familiar.
Every component had a place.
Every connection had a check.
Every person had a job.
For the first time that morning, I felt calm.
Brenda continued recording us with her phone.
“This is illegal,” she announced to nobody in particular. “These men are destroying community property.”
Dana walked over.
“Mrs. McCluskey, this operation has emergency county authorization. You need to stay clear.”
“I intend to file a complaint.”
“You’re welcome to do that from the designated safe area.”
Brenda stared at her.
Dana stared back.
Brenda retreated.
Little Dave watched the exchange.
“I think I’m in love,” he muttered.
“Focus,” I said.
“Professionally in love.”
“Dave.”
“Focusing.”
The wind strengthened as we worked.
Rain swept across the canal in diagonal sheets.
Big Dave handled the heavy equipment with practiced care, guiding each section into position while I managed the power systems.
Little Dave inspected every connection.
The pontoon units linked together into a long, articulated structure that gradually extended toward the opposite bank.
From a distance, it looked like a metallic walkway unfolding across the water.
Up close, it was a complicated assembly of buoyancy, load distribution, mechanical connections, and very expensive engineering.
At the final connection, something went wrong.
Little Dave crouched beside the locking assembly.
“Stop.”
I cut the equipment power.
Big Dave froze.
Little Dave inspected the connection.
“The pin isn’t seated.”
“Misalignment?” I asked.
“Possibly. We can’t load it like this.”
He checked the housing, then examined the adjoining sections.
The crowd had gone silent.
Even Brenda stopped talking.
I could hear the wind rattling the road signs.
“Can we correct it?” I asked.
“Maybe. But not by forcing it.”
Big Dave had already reached for a heavy mallet.
Little Dave shook his head.
“No. If the housing is damaged, impact could make it worse.”
Big Dave put the mallet down.
Then he studied the connection.
He pointed toward the far side.
“Lift.”
Little Dave looked again.
A small shift in the adjacent section had placed the assembly under uneven tension.
We adjusted the support, relieved the load, and realigned the connection.
The pin slid into place.
Little Dave inspected it twice.
Then a third time.
“Locked,” he said.
I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
“Good.”
“Don’t celebrate yet. We still need the approach checks.”
We completed the inspections.
Dana reviewed the results and established the restrictions.
Only vehicles within the approved weight and size limits could use the crossing.
One vehicle at a time.
No stopping.
No sudden acceleration.
No trailers.
No heavy trucks.
And the crossing would close immediately if conditions deteriorated beyond the authorized limits.
That last rule presented a problem.
The Beast was too heavy.
So was the flatbed.
I looked at my truck.
Then at the bridge.
Then back at my truck.
For a brief, irrational moment, I considered arguing.
Little Dave caught my expression.
“Don’t even think about it.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face did.”
Dana approached.
“We’re ready for the first vehicle.”
Mrs. Gable was standing beside her Buick.
Her hands were clasped together.
“Could I go?” she asked.
Dana looked at the vehicle, confirmed its weight was within the approved limit, and nodded.
“Yes, ma’am. Follow the marshal’s signals and keep moving steadily.”
I walked over to Evelyn.
She looked terrified.
“Leo, are you sure?”
“I trust the team and the inspections. But if you’re uncomfortable, we can wait for another option.”
She glanced toward the darkening sky.
Then at the carriers inside her Buick.
Dorothy let out a small, indignant meow.
Evelyn smiled.
“Well, Dorothy has made her opinion clear.”
I opened her door.
“Then let’s get you out of here.”
She climbed in.
