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Chapter One

What Am I Doing Here?

The choppy waves battered the ferry as it headed toward Bayfield Island. Malik Rahman sat in the passenger cabin, gripping the back of the seat in front of him, wishing he had taken a motion sickness pill as the boat lurched back and forth against the waves’ assault. He looked out the window past the angry sea toward the horizon. Malik had heard that watching the horizon would help with motion sickness, but looking into the ominous skies, now a bruised green as the afternoon faded into dusk before what would likely be a stormy night, only filled him with dread. The ferry rolled on a large swell, and Malik’s thoughts turned back to the motion sickness pills. He shook his head and pushed the thoughts away; he couldn’t risk anything that might make him drowsy. It was going to be a long night. Just then, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and saw it was his brother, Jordan.

Malik smiled as he lifted the phone to his ear. “Hey, little brother, how’s it going?”

“It’s going,” Jordan replied. “Mom told me you picked up a last-minute job and will miss the birthday party?”

Malik winced. He had hoped to avoid this conversation. “Yeah. I’m sorry, man. There’s an emergency bridge repair in Bayfield Island that I picked up. It’s last-minute, so the pay is pretty good.”

“Wait,” Jordan responded. “Isn’t Bayfield Island in the path of Hurricane Esther? As in, it’s supposed to arrive tomorrow?”

Malik nodded. “Yep, that’s the one. It veered eastward, and now it’s heading right for it.”

Jordan’s voice was filled with concern. “Now, who in their right mind would head toward an island that’s in the bullseye of a hurricane?”

Malik rubbed his forehead. “Well, you know how it goes. Money has been tight; besides, this is an emergency. They needed a structural engineer to perform last-minute repairs to shore up the Garvey Crossing Bridge so it could support the weight of a full evacuation. They had someone lined up, but they fell through, so I seized the opportunity. You know what they say? Fortune favors the brave and all that.”

“They also say that fools who run headfirst into a hurricane are the first to get washed away,” Jordan replied. “At least you’re getting paid. I was worried you were doing some volunteer gig your life coach convinced you to take.”

Malik chuckled. “No worries, brother, I’m definitely getting paid for this. But you should cut Coach Kelvin some slack. Besides, he’s a Resilience Coach, not a life coach, and the Stoic Philosophy he’s been teaching me has really helped me a lot.”

Malik looked up as a ferryman walked through the cabin. When he didn’t hear a reply from his brother, he glanced at his phone and realized it had dropped the call. Malik pressed the button to call his brother back, but the call wouldn’t connect. The ferryman saw Malik fussing with his phone and shook his head.

“Cell service is spotty at best due to the approaching storms,” the ferryman said. “We’ve been having calls dropped all day.”

Malik shook his head as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. “I can see that.”

“So, I have to say, you’re one of the few customers we’ve had who are actually heading toward the island,” the ferryman replied.

Malik shrugged and offered the man a smile. “Duty calls.

The ferryman nodded. “Well, we’re preparing to dock now. If you will, please prepare to disembark. We’re on a tight schedule today, trying to get as many cars off the island as possible.”

Ten minutes later, Malik walked away from the ferry as the sky had turned a slate gray and a light mist began to fall, soaking everything. ‘God. What am I doing here?’ Malik wondered as he marveled at the sea of headlights waiting to board the ferry. He adjusted the strap on his waterproof case. The reports had said that the hurricane wouldn’t arrive until late tomorrow, but from the looks of things, they were in for a stormy night. This wouldn’t make their work easy. As he walked, Malik looked at the Garvey Crossing Bridge in the distance, illuminated by spotlights, its steel support beams standing out sharply against the restless sky. Work trucks were being unloaded as workers assembled supplies. Malik hoped they had a good construction team because that would make all the difference. Just then, Malik saw a heavyset man wearing a large blue raincoat approaching. The man shook Malik’s hand.

“You must be Malik Rahman?” the man asked.

Malik nodded. “I am, and you are?”

“I’m City Councilman Terry Gibbs,” the man responded. “Thank you for coming out on such short notice.”

“Speaking of which,” Malik replied. “Why is it such short notice?”

Gibbs shook his head. “Well, it’s a long story.”

Malik frowned. “Well, if I’m going to risk my neck facing down a hurricane, I would really like to know why.”

Gibbs shrugged as they walked toward the bridge. “Well, for years, this old bridge has been the subject of a heated political fight on the island. Half the City Council wants to build a new one, while the other half prefers to patch up the current bridge, mainly because of cost concerns. Discussions about the bridge have been repeatedly delayed, and we’ve kept it mostly closed to traffic, relying on the ferry system instead. Then, last year, we had it inspected by the cousin of one of the Council members, who said it was fine, but only for light traffic. When it looked like tropical weather might be approaching, a county inspector came to check the bridge and quickly declared it structurally unsafe. Apparently, there are large cracks in the anchor joints.”

Malik looked at Gibbs. “Yeah, I saw that in the report. So, how did the first inspection miss it?”

Gibbs shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe they fudged it to help their cousin’s political agenda? In any case, none of this would’ve been a problem because we’ve gotten used to mainly using the ferries. But then, Esther’s track shifted; now we need to get around six thousand people off this island. We don’t have enough ferries, and the bridge won’t support the weight. So, that’s where you come in. We absolutely have to get this bridge operational by tomorrow morning.”

Malik shook his head as a gust of wind swirled the mist around them. “That’s a tall order,” he replied while looking up at the gleaming steel structure. “But with a good crew, we’ll do what we can.”

As they approached the workers, Malik heard a familiar voice rise above the wind. He looked up to see a woman, clearly the construction foreman, wearing a light jacket but completely soaked from the mist, overseeing the unloading of equipment. Her hair, pulled back through the hole in the back of her cap, had streaks of gray, and a few wrinkles lined her weathered skin, but there was no mistaking her. She noticed them approaching and glanced up. For a moment, her eyes met Malik’s, and a dark cloud crossed her face as her jawline tightened slightly. Subconsciously, Malik slowed his pace and fell behind Councilman Gibbs, who headed straight for the woman.

Gibbs shook the woman’s hand. “Erin Voss, I want you to meet our structural engineer for the project, this is—”

“I know who he is,” Erin muttered before storming off, leaving Gibbs with a dumbfounded look on his face.

Gibbs looked at Malik. “I take it you already know our construction foreman?”

Malik watched Erin walk away, a troubled expression crossing his face, and nodded. “Yeah, we’ve met.”

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