Diana's Disciples
Page 29
Chapter 61
Venice Beach, California, August 12, 2012, 1:14 PM
The steady pounding of the surf had lulled Jack to sleep and it was the first sound he heard as he woke. He listened to the repetitive and predictable crashing of powerful waves, the rhythm rocking him gently determined to keep him on the threshold of consciousness between waking and sleep. And with his eyes closed Jack heard the sounds of eternity, the sounds that have carried across this beach since the beginning of time and will do so still in a thousand years. A warm and salty breeze brushed his face and cooled the sting of the afternoon sun, carrying distant squeals and shouts of children frolicking in foamy whitewater at the ocean’s edge. Seagulls shrieked in frantic excitement, their shrill participation in nature’s symphony dissonantly piercing the rumble of the Pacific.
Jack lazily opened his eyes. A deep blue spread evenly across the canvas of the sky, broken up only by a white hot sun. He rose and strolled to the water, his feet sinking into warm sand with every step. Waves crashed into a foggy mist, and the ocean spray reflected the sun in a million sparkles. Anna rose in the waist-deep water and turned her body in the tumultuous whitewater, her back glistening in the misty haze. She pulled the boogey board from the swirling foam and raced after the fast receding wave. Holding the short board with outstretched arms she hurled her body into the turbulent whitewater spilling down the face of the wave. The wave collapsed with a pounding crash, foam and water spraying high into the air, and Anna’s head broke the surface in the calm beyond. Styx shrieked with excitement, holding her own board high above her head and high above the swirling wash around her waist. Her bright red hair and pale skinny body stood in stark contrast to her surroundings. Anna waived at the Punk girl and Styx stormed the crashing wave with a ferocious battle cry, which turned to a shriek before she dove into the turbulent water and disappeared. Her red hair popped up next to Anna. She was still shrieking.
Jack smiled. The nightmare seemed a million miles away and Jack was glad that they could heal at the hazy beach in Venice, California, courtesy of Todd Ashley’s untapped fortune hidden in a locker at Union Station. He turned and looked up at the palm-tree-lined trail. Sergey Tarpov waddled barefoot over the hot sand, clutching brown paper bags. The Russian was no friend of the liberal dress code encouraged by hot summer days at the beach. He had removed his shoes and socks, had rolled up his black slacks halfway up his shins, exposing pale white skin, and had rolled up his shirt sleeves to just below his elbows. And that is as relaxed as Tarpov’s dress code would get. Jack waived at the Russian and marveled at the transformation of the man who had been given a second chance.
Jack heard a rushing sound and spun around, but it was too late. Anna jumped on him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her momentum pulled him to the ground. Jack roared at the wet and cold assault shocking his sun-warmed skin. But he would not change it for the world.
Anna could pounce on him, wet and cold, for the rest of his life, as far as he was concerned.
THE END