Time Remaining: [N/A]
(Status: Final Assembly. Decking & Load Test.)
Location: The Silver River Bridge.
The morning sun hit the steel truss, warming the black metal against the cool mist of the valley.
From the bank, the bridge looked like a spiderweb made of iron—a geometric lace of triangles stretching one hundred and forty feet from shore to shore. It was imposing. It was rigid.
But it was hollow.
"It's a skeleton," Arthur said, standing at the North Abutment with a mug of coffee. "Now it needs a floor."
Behind him, the carriage house truck had already made three trips to the local sawmill. Piled high on the grass were hundreds of thick oak planks, each one treated with a dark, pungent oil to resist rot. They smelled of tar and fresh sawdust, a sharp contrast to the metallic tang of the forge from the day before.
"Zack," Arthur called out. "Bring the bolting crew. We start from the ends and meet in the middle."
The installation wasn't glamorous. It was loud.
