Brother Edgar offered, mostly to the benefit of those in the Humvee as Marcela had the radio, "If they did not stop, we should not either.  Reasonably, if they can make it on what fuel they have, so can we."

  "Brother Edgar votes to move on guys. Not much point in hanging around and asking a bunch of questions. We know which way the quarry fled. Follow the quarry is my vote." is Chricton's response over the radio.

"Agreed" said Smoker, seeing as everyone seemed to be chipping in with their opinions.

"Lets get going they already have a fairly big lead on us... and may have eyes in the town."

-

In reply to Increase Trask (msg # 304):

They left the ruins of Alexandria and the colony of Near Alexandria behind, traveling down route 1 through the forest. Every once in a while they came across tracks of a semi, indicating they were still on the trail of their quarry. Early afternoon wore on to a hot, sticky late afternoon.

A couple hours and a bit later down Louisiana Route One, they were forced to stop at the road bridge over the Atchafalaya River. It had once been a massive steel structure. Parts had been damaged or destroyed by air strikes during the war. Those sections had repairs made from wood from buildings, tree trunks lashed together, slabs of salvaged concrete and crudely welded steel beams.

Of the three questionable repaired stretches, at least two looked unsafe for as large a vehicle as the semi.

  "So it begs the question how did our morons cross the river?" he asks over the team radio net. "I may not be an expert on structures, but I don't think you are gonna get across in the rig Roadkill. Wish I had the materials and the ghost rock to have built that recon drone."

In reply to Tech. Sgt. Airen Crichton (msg # 306):

Dismounting, Roadkill slung his G22 and sauntered over to the bridge.

"I know rigs have been this way before. Heck, I even been here before. But lookin' at this bridge... I don't know. We had that hurricane last year, since I been by, and it looks weakened a smidge. Even more than that. Cracks there, broken spars there, there, there, and.... there.

"I think they just decided to just give it a try. They got lucky. If they unloaded the car carrier, I think it might have been light enough to scoot across. Problem is, we got ourselves a van trailer. Not fully loaded, mind, but she does have armour plate on the cab and the trailer. Plus them fightin' stations up top. Could be riskier now. I just can't tell. I think I might just drop out, maybe go back and find an alternative route. Meet up later."

Smoker clambered down to take a look for himself.

"Can we find the materials to reinforce it a bit?"

In reply to Smoker Nix (msg # 308):

Smoker took a look, as well, surveying the scene for useful materials.

Marshall's Note: Smoker can make a roll on his Scrounging and Tinkerin' aptitudes. (5d12 each.)

Smoker slouched around the bridge and surrounding area, muttering and poking about. He seemed to have a clearer idea of what was needed that of how to achieve it, and looked rather frustrated.

---

OOC: With pleasure, dear Marshall.

11:57, Today: Smoker Nix rolled 8 using 5d12, keeping the highest dice only, rerolling max with rolls of 5,1,8,2,6.  Scrounging.

11:57, Today: Smoker Nix rolled 16 using 5d12, keeping the highest dice only, rerolling max with rolls of 4,6,11,(12+4)16,(12+4)16.  Tinkering.

Brother Edgar joined the others in surveying the bridges.  Not that he was much of a bridge builder mind you, but he liked to be supportive.  Clearing his throat a bit, he asked, "It would take quite a bit of time to reinforce the bridge.  Which would only let the quarry get further away.  Do we have a map?  We could make some guesses about where they may be heading and find alternate routes."  He paused, then added, "And how sure are we that this was the only route they could have taken?  Could they have doubled back as well?"

Picking up his weapon Trask got down from his perch and went and had a look at the tracks to see if the rig they were following did indeed cross the bridge.

Increase Trask rolled 11 using 4d8, keeping the highest dice only, rerolling max with rolls of (8+3)11,7,6,3.  Trackin’.


-

Peter looked at the bridge for a long time. Then he glanced at Roadkill and said, "If you do not think it is safe for the rig to cross, then go another way. I will continue on and we can try and keep in radio contact where we can. But at the least we can set up a rendezvous point on the map to meet up with, yes?"

In reply to Smoker Nix (msg # 310):

Smoker determined that the bridge could be reinforced with the materials on hand, either lying around in piles or washed up on the riverbank below, washed downriver from the destroyed hover-rail bridge upstream. Obviously, at some point truckers or other Wasters had stockpiled materials to make periodic repairs. He estimated it could take between one and six hours to effect sufficient repairs to make a crossing feasible. Not 100% safe, but then again this was the Wasted West... nothing was 100% safe.

Using his thermal imaging, Trask was able to determine that there was no one sneaking up on them. Further, the patterns of tracks and the now-faint thermal profile indicated that their quarry (or at least the rig) had driven this way and then crossed the damaged span, after reinforcing it themselves a little.

Roadkill thought a little, looking at the bridge and then the rig. "You know... I think if Smoker can do it I'll give it a go."

Smoker grinned.

"OK. Let's do it. I need some of the heavy stuff shifting..."

Formulating a plan in his head, he started shouting directions as to what needed to be shifted where. To start with, it seemed like random chaos, but if you watched closely a pattern developed with everything ending up precisely where it needed to be.

In reply to Smoker Nix (msg # 316):

"It looks as if they did indeed pass across the bridge. Here let me help with the heavy lifting."

-

 Chricton helps with the moving and bracing of the makeshift bridge and laughs at the fact that anyone is crazy enough to try and cross this thing in a big rig.

Brother Edgar is never opposed to a bit of hard work.  Though he isn't particularly strong...nor particularly handy.  But he is helpful and willing which could mean something.  If there was not a real handy place to step in, he concentrated on fetching tools, water, etc.  Either way, he makes sure the work party has a nice cooked gator steak to tear into when they're done.  As long as no one gets too judgy on microwaved gator steak....  He's a pretty good microwave cook.  For obvious reasons...

Smoker scampered around, thoroughly enjoying a bit of bridge-building. He rarely got a chance to 'do his thing' travelling with this party, and he relished the chance to show them what he could do - and, if truth be told, to boss everybody around for a change.

Finally, even he was satisfied that the structure was sound and he flopped in a heap, exhausted. But not too exhausted to eat Brother Edgar's gator steaks!

In reply to Smoker Nix (msg # 320):

After an hour, Smoker had made enough basic repairs to let the vehicles pass safely. Everyone had a bite to eat and a bit of a rest.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:20, Thu 28 Feb 2019.

In reply to The Marshall (msg # 321):

Rolling a cigarette, Roadkill motioned to Peter.

"Hey hoss, a word if you don't mind." He lit his smoke and gestured to the bridge.

"That's fixed enough to let us pass. But one thing I think is obvious. We are not gaining on them, not nearly enough, before the sun sets. I don't know if or how that might matter. But I figure if they get to where they're goin', New Orleans, probably, we are gonna have a real hard time trackin' them down. And the guy they took hostage, he's as good as dead if that happens.

"What I'm tryin' to say is we got ,maybe a few hours to catch up to them before they hit the Gulf and the sun goes down. Dunno what they're gonna do then, but I say let's not find out. Maybe you take your technical and the Humvee and go as hard as you can. Right now we got a rig, they got a rig, we're both doin' about twenty. I figure you can take 'er up to forty without us. Or more. If you don't mind a bit of risk. You can even fit that big ol' Tin can that Trask is driving in the roof hatch of the Humvee. I'll loan ya'all my Ma-Deuce, stick 'er on the Humvee's pintle or Trask can use it hand-held.

"Whaddaya think, pardner?"

Peter looked up as Roadkill came over. He gave a slow nod and allowed himself to be lead to a private conversation. He listened to what the trucker had to say, face mostly impassive during the talk. He finally let out a sigh and said, "I suppose you are correct."

He gave another slow nod. "Yes. Alright. I suppose we can try and do that. We shall have to just try to be careful and fast."

He turned back to the rest of the group. "Okay. We are going to split up a bit. The rig will follow at a safer pace, but the technical and the Humvee are going to go at a faster to try and catch up to those we pursue. So figure out who is going in which vehicle and let us get going in the couple of minutes."

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 323):

The first two vehicles carefully crossed the mended bridge sections. It was a good repair job, probably better than it needed to be! Then the rig passed. Salvaged metal and wood groaned, but held and no parts were shed to fall into the river below. In fact, a quick examination showed that Smoker's work was still solid and would remain so for a long time, if not indefinitely.

Brother Edgar finished making sure everyone had a reasonable share of the steaks and a healthy amount of water for their work.  After which, he quietly took care of repacking and re-stowing any leftover supplies and tools.  Not being a driver, he left that decision making to the ones with more vested interests.  As he was already emplaced in the Humvee, he would remain there whilst everyone took their positions.  He'd gladly give up the shotgun seat to another for any logically tactical reasons, if needed, though.

As the convoy rolled out onto the "bridge", Brother Edgar began a meditative breathing exercise.  As that "bridge" groaned and popped, he calmly shut his eyes.  By halfway across, he quietly murmured a prayer, "I give praise to Saint Newton for his Insight into the Nature of Existence.  Blessed be his name and the Truth of Physics... I give Praise to Saint Newton and his Third Law...  May the forces be equal and opposite...  Equilibrium...  Balance...  I give Praise to Saint Newton for his Insight into..."  He continued his quiet repetition until Roadkill's truck had also crossed.  Only then did he allow his breathing to return to normal and his eyes to open.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:04, Tue 12 Mar 2019.