It was 10:53 P.M. on Friday ofAchilles 14, 1973 ARC, and LeighPalkenberg was sitting at his ship lookout station on the RepublicAvenue Bridge watching for ships. The Republic Avenue Bridge wasa double-leaf bascule bridge, basically a very large gray drawbridgemade of steel that spanned the Cathedral Creek. Leigh's main jobas assistant bridge operator was to watch for approaching tug boats,yachts or whatever that passed the bridge, while they went throughthe Cathedral Creek on their way to the Flemish Mills and BedrockCreeks. Most of these boats were vessels that had unloaded cargo fromlarge oceangoing ships, which had come up the Omni River from theHercules Ocean. Occasionally, there were ships carrying cargo of thelocal variety or just pleasure boaters who had happened to stumbleupon the Cathedral Creek. Of course Leigh knew if they had any ideahow polluted the Cathedral Creek really was, they would avoid suchexcursions on the creek. Leigh had been working this job for the lastfour years and he enjoyed the solitude. Occasionally he had to manthe controls for the bridge to open, but usually a full-fledged bridgeoperator did that, but budget cuts in recent years forced Leigh todiversify his training as assistant bridge operator. Currently he wasusing his binoculars to gaze out in the distance. About a mile away wasthe larger Warsaw Bridge, which was so high above the ground, evenbattleships could pass underneath. But where Leigh was stationed, itwas a part of the Cathedral Creek that was somewhat more narrow andnot used by such large vessels.

Leigh then heard the blow of a car horn down below his station,and he thought to himself: "Old Nathaniel."

Leigh left his post at the high point of the Duchess Tower on theRepublic Avenue Bridge. He then went down some green metal stairsuntil he was at street level and he opened a metal door. Outside was aforty year old black car with an old man standing outside of it with awooden cane. It was his old friend Nathaniel Krapfen who used to goto the church Leigh was baptized in. Of course, that was back whenLeigh went to church. Leigh stopped going when he was seventeen, butNathaniel just couldn't break customs of trying to meet up with fellowcongregants, even inactive ones like Leigh. Nathaniel had known aboutLeigh working at the Republic Avenue Bridge for quite sometime, andtended to visit him on Friday nights.

Leigh stepped out and smiled. "Hey Nathaniel, what's up in oldPeakwood?"

Nathaniel grumbled. "Just counting my communal security checksand making sure those pesky kids don't bother my lawn."

"How's Father Quant?" Leigh inquired.

Nathaniel shook his head. "Don't even get me started about him.He's an asshole."

Leigh smirked. "A believer like you, one who follows the 'good book,'I figured you be as loyal as the next man to the clergy of the church."

"Our Lord knows the difference between true clergymen and falseones, and Father Quant is one of the false ones," Nathaniel pointed out."I'm still kind of sad you don't go to church anymore."

"I respect our God with all my heart. It's just that I don't respectthe priests, ministers and so forth. Human beings tend to use religionfor their own advantages. That's why when I talk to God, I do so inprivate, not through any churches or priests," Leigh proclaimed.

Nathaniel nodded. "I understand. I'll pray for you anyway, andmay the Holy Essence be with you."

"And also with you Nathaniel, and may the Lord Jehovah bless usall," Leigh declared, with a sincere voice.

Nathaniel got in his car and drove off towards the Borough ofStreambank. He had other business to attend to that night. Leigh thenwent back into the Duchess Tower of the Republic Avenue Bridge andclosed the door. He then locked it securely and then walked back upthe green metal stairs and went to his post. He looked out again andsaw no creek traffic; so he decided to take out his spiral notebook andwrite in it. Leigh was a part-time writer and hoped one day to get hiswork published. He was only twenty-three years old so he hoped hiswork would be published in his lifetime. He checked his watch againand it showed it was 11:12 P.M. Time seemed to go slowly on theRepublic Avenue Bridge. The phone then rang and Leigh recognized itas the outside line.

Leigh stood up and went over to the phone. He picked up thephone, and said: "Republic Avenue Bridge, Duchess Tower, how can Ihelp you?"

"Who is this?" a voice shot back.

Leigh spoke boldly. "This is Leigh Palkenberg, who are you?"

"Never mind that, I want to talk to Ezekiel," the voice replied withvenom.

Leigh breathed in deeply. "Ezekiel got laid off, five months ago."

"Bullshit," the voice responded.

"I don't know what to tell you. The city couldn't afford that manypeople, and full-fledged bridge operators have high wages because ofunion rules," Leigh pointed out.

"Are you a union man?" the voice inquired.

"Local 43, got any other questions, or do you still wish to remainanonymous?" Leigh asked, with a forceful voice.

"No anonymity, I am Oriel Depas, Chief Delegate for Local 27. Irepresent the guys on the Flemish Mills bridges. I wanted to talk to Ezekielbecause I had a favor to ask. Do you know where he's at?" Oriel queried.

Leigh cleared his throat. "No, I don't."

"Let me know if you do," Oriel replied, and then hanged up.

Leigh hanged up the phone and muttered. "Fucking jerk."

He went back to his post and gazed at the Cathedral Creek withhis binoculars. He then went back to his creative writing. About twohours later, Leigh was preparing some coffee when he noticed lights onthe creek. His two-way radio blurted out a message. "Republic AvenueBridge, respond."

Leigh manipulated the radio dials for better reception, and hethen pressed the transmit button, and spoke: "This is Republic AvenueBridge, Duchess Tower, over."

The voice on the other end spoke with authority. "Roger DuchessTower, this is PPD Boat 57. We're conducting an investigation in thisarea. Have you noticed anything odd tonight?"

"Negative, it's been quiet all night," Leigh replied.

"Very well, let us know if you see anything," the voice said, andthen there was static.

"Roger, over and out," Leigh replied.

The Polyxenburgh Police Department boat went under the bridgewith little trouble, because it was such a small vessel. Leigh then turnedon his shortwave radio and tried to get different stations. If he waslucky, he might even get radio signals from Europe this time of night.Though he knew most radio stations in Europe were off at this hour, hehoped to get their morning news from there. He played with the radiodial but received nothing. He then went back to his creative writing.Hours passed and light started to shine in; and it was 5:45 A.M. andLeigh yawned. He was tired from a boring night's work. He then heardthe door open downstairs, and heavy feet climb the metal staircase.Leigh turned around and saw his coworker Joseph Holz.

Leigh smirked. "A little late for you. Usually you're here 5:30 A.M.the latest."

Joe shook his head. "There was a problem on Kaiserland Avenue,some sort of police action. My guess is a murder or something. TheMunicipal Avenue Bridge was closed and even Republic Avenue on theStreambank side. I had to go over one of those Flemish Mills Creekbridges in Mulberryflint, just to get into Duchess today."

"Shit, I was wondering why traffic was so light," Leigh remarked.

"You don't know the half of it," Joe...