New York - The Novel

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    “The bridge is closed,” the policeman told her.
    The mighty structure was, indeed, totally deserted. Its huge span rose into the blizzard and disappeared in the whiteness. There were barriers across the roadway, and the railcars were sitting by their platforms, frozen solid. The policeman had wisely occupied the tollbooth, where pedestrians paid their penny to cross. He had a lamp in there to keep himself warm, and was unwilling even to open the little window to speak to her.
    “Whaddaya mean, it’s closed?” she cried. “It’s a goddam bridge.”
    “It’s closed. Too dangerous, lady,” he shouted back.
    “I gotta get to Manhattan,” she protested.
    “You can’t. There’s no ferry, and the bridge is closed. There’s no way to get there.”
    “Then I’ll walk across.”
    “Are you crazy, lady?” he exploded. “I just told you the bridge is closed.Especially to pedestrians.” He pointed to the path that led into the howling blizzard. “You’d never get across.”
    “So how much is the toll? It says a penny. I’m not paying more than a penny.”
    “You ain’t paying a penny,” the policeman bawled, “because I told you three times, the bridge is closed.”
    “So you say.”
    “I do say. Get out of here, lady.”
    “I’ll stand here as long as I like. I ain’t breaking any law.”
    “Jeezus,” cried the policeman. “Freeze to death where you are, then. But you ain’t crossing this bridge.”
    Five minutes later, she was still there. In exasperation, the policeman turned his back to her. He stayed that way for a minute or two. When he turned round, she’d gone, thank God. He sighed, glanced up at the bridge, and shouted with fury.
    She was up there on the walkway, a couple of hundred yards already, and about to disappear into the snowstorm. How the devil did she get past the booth? He opened the door, and the freezing storm smacked him in the face. He started after her, with a volley of oaths.
    And then he stopped. Any minute now, he reckoned, the wind would like as not lift her up and blow her over the railings, then either drop her onto the tracks or, better yet, deposit her in the freezing waters of the East River below. He went back into the booth. “I never saw her,” he muttered.
    Let the bitch die, if that’s what she wanted.
    Donna Clipp moved steadily forward. The tollbooth was long out of sight, and she knew she must be reaching the apex of the long suspended walkway now. The wind was moaning. Every now and then, the moan turned to a howl, as though some vast, angry leviathan were thrashing about in the harbor and the East River below, some huge sea serpent intent upon claiming her as its prey. The snow had already stung her face until it was numb. She had forgotten that, in that high, empty exposure over the water, the cold would be worse, far worse, and she knew that if she didn’t find some shelter soon, she’d get frostbite. Perhaps she could die.
    Donna Clipp didn’t want to die. That wasn’t in her plans at all, for a long time yet.
    So there was nothing to do, but make her way through this terrible white tunnel in the sky, and get down the other side.
    Progress was painfully slow. If she let go of the rail for even a moment, she could be blown off her feet and hurled down into the abyss. All she could do was keep a tight hold on the rail, and pull herself across, step by step. She knew she mustn’t stop. If she could just get to the other side. If she could just keep going.
    She managed to reach the halfway point. From there, it was a long descent. She managed another hundred yards. Then another. Then, just ahead of her, she saw something that gave her a shock.
    And she stopped.

    The blizzard continued all that day. Some people called it the White Hurricane. But soon they had another name for it. Given the snowbound wastes that, rightly or wrongly, were associated with the territory, they called it the Dakota Blizzard.
    If the city was impassable that day, a few strongholds tried at least to make a showing. Macy’s department store opened for a bit, but no customers came, and the poor lady clerks had to be sheltered there until the Dakota Blizzard was done, since they could not get home. Some banks tried to open, but decided to extend all their loans a few days, since nobody could reach them. The New York Stock Exchange opened, and even traded a few shares that Monday morning. But there were only a handful of men there, and soon after midday,