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“Sorry,” he grumbles.Probablyremembering the last timeIbitched at him for calling me “babe.”
Approachingthe register and letting barbecue staples spill across the counter, the cashier pops up.
Gigi’seyes widen on me. “Hey!”
“Hey.How’sit goin’?”
“Notbad, not bad,” she replies, starting to ring us up. “So,I’vebeen keepin’ an eye on the bridge, but it seems like things have calmed down.”
“Yousure about that?”Tyinterjects. “Anowl just ran us off the road on the way here.Camea little too close to swimming in the river.”
Gigiimmediately stops ringing up items to cross herself.
Tyfrowns. “What’sbeen goin’ on here?”
“Nothin’ to worry your pretty little head over,”Isay.
“Nothin’ to worry over—are you kidding me?”Gigiresponds incredulously. “D’youknow about theDevil’sBridgeshere?”
Tyshakes his head, andIinsist, “It’sjust old legends that horror fans take too far.”
Gigiwaves me off, explaining toTy, “Sothe mainDevil’sBridgeis onAshleyRoad, where a ton of creepy shit happens.Like, if you toss a rock off the bridge, you won’t ever hear it land down below.Supposedly, a ghost namedMelvinhaunts it, too, and you can sometimes hear the creaking of the noose of a priest who hung himself after his parishioners were murdered during theInquisitionhere.”
“Whoa,”Tybreathes. “Thatsounds creepy as hell.”
“Itis!I’vehung around there at night, andIsmelled sulfur—the devil himself was there,Iswear it!”
“Tsk, c’mon,Gigi,”Ichide. “Don’tfeed into the hysteria.”
Shecocks her hip and rests a fist on it, leaning against her other hand on the counter. “How’sit hysteria when theDevil’sHouseis literally a few yards down from the bridge, huh?”
“Whoa, whoa,Devil’sHouse?”
“Yup.Theguy who lived there a few decades back sold his soul to the devil, and the devil hung around as a black horse to keep an eye on him.Theplace burned down, though, so all that’s left are the front steps and some rubble.”Sheleans in close over the register. “And, even though he supposedly burned up inside the house, his body was never found.Deviltook his due.”
“Oh, man,Steph,”Tybreathes. “Yougotta take me there.”
Ishake my head vehemently, and beforeIhave the chance to tell him absolutely not,Gigiadds, “Whywould you go to that one when theDevil’sBridgeofLosoyais inStephani’sbackyard?”
Tygapes at her. “What?Forreal?”
“Gigi, stop.”Igesture to the items on the counter. “Wegot a barbecue to get to, c’mon now.”
“WhydidInever know about this?”Tyquestions.
“Becauseit’s not there,”Irespond as the register beeps. “Therewas a rickety old bridge, but it’s long gone.There’snothin’ out there except feral hogs that’ll rip you to shreds.”
Silencedescends between the three of us, marked by the beeping of the register.
“Well, whatever you do,”Gigibegins asIshove my card into the terminal, “don’t go pokin’ around those bridges or the approach byLosoyaBridge.There’sbeen a lot of activity.”
“Whatkind of activity?”
“Thekind that’ll get you killed,”Isnap.Grabbinga few bags,Istalk toward the exit. “Let’sgo.”
Tyscrambles behind me to grab bags and rush out the door. “Hey, what the hell was all that?Anddon’t say ‘nothing’ because something’s up.”
Idon’t answer, shoving grocery bags in the back seat and climbing into the passenger seat, instead.Hefollows suit, but when he shuts his door, he doesn’t start up the engine even though we’re broiling in here.
