“But I want to be of help, officer. Please let me help. I’m a doctor—this is my mission.”

  They had no time for him. His offer was rebuked. Rudely he was made to climb back into his Jaguar, and to wait like the other drivers. Eventually traffic bound for the bridge was rerouted. Eventually the stream of vehicles began to move. The terrible dark rain had lessened, now columns of mist lifted from the river far below like ectoplasm. Which river was this Lucas could not have immediately said though he knew its name as he knew his own. He accelerated his vehicle onto the bridge. It was the upper level he chose. In the mist, the farther shore and the length of the great bridge were obscured. Lights shimmered uncertainly along the vast river, evidence of lives within. He started out, he would cross to that farther shore.

 


 

  Joyce Carol Oates, The Corn Maiden: And Other Nightmares

 


 

 
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