The monster makes a kill…

Unlike a flesh and blood predator, the concrete monster cannot chase down its victims, so therefore it must bring them to itself. And then it will make the kill by forcing them to leap from its deck to their deaths. Those who randomly cross are compelled to stop at the highest point, get out of their vehicles, and go to the edge. Or, the intended prey is drawn to the monster’s span, lured by some unknown and sudden urge. A victim who is possessed of a strong desire or need to drive onto the bridge. The unlucky target then is inexorably lured to the edge, where he stands and looks down at the swirling waters below and the bases of the bridge piers. Frozen in terror but unable to turn away, he is like a desperately thirsty wildebeest bowing to drink from a crocodile infested river. And then, gasping in terror, he is forced to climb over the barrier, first one leg, and then the other, and then he is barely holding on, precipitously clinging above the base of the concrete pier some two hundred and fifty feet below. Locked in the monster’s controlling grip, he cannot break free, and against his will his hands are made to let go of the edge. Released by his killer, he plummets, flailing desperately and uttering a blood curdling scream, as the bridge deck above recedes into the distance above. Like an eagle knocking a mountain goat off of a ledge, the monster lets gravity do the work and finish off the prey. In less than four seconds, the hapless victim crashes into the base of the bridge pier, landing with a loud and sickening thud. Death comes instantly, mercilessly ending the brief eternity of the abject terror of the fall. His prone body lies upon the pier, skull shattered like a thrown egg and blood and brain matter splattered upon the concrete. Pools of gore spread from beneath his head and run down towards the water line. Limbs lie viciously twisted, bones are snapped and internal organs pulverized as blood oozes from the victim’s mouth and nose. His lifeless bloodshot eyes stare upwards at the great span from whence he fell, no longer able to see the small crowd that has gathered to look down over the edge at the gruesome scene below. Some scream and turn away, while others can do nothing but call for help. The police will soon arrive in a rescue boat and will claim the remains of the kill. But not before the monstrous bridge takes what it needs. Draining blood from the lifeless corpse begins to seep into the concrete, like a gentle rain onto parched earth. Slowly it disappears from view, as if it had never even been there at all. The body will be removed, zipped up into a bag and taken away, but there will be no need for any more clean up. The monster has taken its necessary portion like a lion having eaten its fill while leaving the rest for the hyenas. The horrified onlookers who stopped on the span have been made to move on, and the victim’s vehicle has been removed. All is quiet as the sun sets and the nighttime traffic plies its way back and forth across the bridge, drivers oblivious to the earlier drama. The herd continues on, having crossed the river, unaware that one of their fellow travelers was snatched and savagely slain by a waiting predator. But the migrating ungulates have survived the crocodile gauntlet, and are, for now, safe from suffering that horrible fate once they reach dry land. Yet those visitors who traverse the bridge are always in danger while upon it, like targets in a shooting gallery. Never knowing when it might be they who will be chosen, finding themselves square in the sights of a brutal killer that never misses.

And as the dawn comes, and the feeble crimson glow of the sun spreads across the water, the monster is sated for the time being. A frayed cable, rusting steel exposed by flaking paint, a noxious pothole in the road deck, all repaired in the dark of night. The monster looks just like the day it was first opened to traffic. The news media is silent, as is generally the case with any bridge that bears witness to jumpers. Local residents make note of the death, perhaps feeling badly for the victim and those who witnessed the slaughter. But no one dares question the monster itself, as their livelihoods – and lives – depend upon it. That is, until one day, a newcomer moves into town.