by Alan Cook
Soon they were passing a row of houses that were right on the beach. Piles of dark rocks formed a wall in front of them—a breakwater, evidently to ward off extra-high tides. Casey was sitting on one of the rocks. Had he given up already?
He rose as they approached and fell into stride beside Drake. He didn’t look winded at all. He was wearing dark glasses against the August sun.
“I’m worried about you.”
“Nothing to worry about. Either I can do it or I can’t. I figure today’s run is the equivalent of perhaps half a marathon. Challenging but not conclusive since we’re going to be running daily marathons soon. We put a man on the moon in July. This can’t be any harder than that.”
Casey laughed. “Giganticorp helped create the technology for the space program. Fred is setting up an appointment with a chiropractor for you after you cross the bridge. We should be able to get you one every day as long as we’re in the populated area of Southern California.”
“Thanks, but it’s going to take more than a chiropractor, I’m afraid. Like rest.”
“Rest is the one thing I can’t promise you, although you’ll get a day off from time to time.” Casey grinned at Drake. “But I know you’ll stick it out. You’ve done harder things in your life.”
From the other side of Drake, Melody said, “Why should we stick it out if we have no chance of winning the money?”
Casey’s face had a look of surprise, whether real or feigned Drake didn’t know. “I don’t believe that for a minute. You’ve got the experience and persistence the others don’t have. They can run a single marathon, but can they run a marathon day after day without burning out? Do they know how to pace themselves? I figure you two should know how to do that. When they start to fade, you’ll eat them up.”
Right. What did he mean about experience and persistence? That Drake was the oldest entrant and thus had more life experience? Age wasn’t a plus here. He had other questions. “Why teams? Running is an individual sport.”
“Practical considerations. A lot of the California coast is pretty desolate, and we don’t have the manpower to keep track of every runner all the time. We figured that you have an incentive to stay with your teammate and make sure he’s okay.”
“I understand that all the runners are from California, except Melody. Why did you pick her?”
“Don’t you like having Melody as a teammate?”
That was a non-answer. Drake and Melody glanced at each other.
Casey must have seen the look. He turned on his ingratiating smile.
“I heard somewhere that you two already knew each other and figured that you might like to run together.”
Drake and Melody exchanged another look. Casey was in effect admitting that he had access to classified information. Either that or he knew somebody who had known them in England. Whatever the truth, they couldn’t probe without being in danger of violating their personal secrecy prohibitions. They couldn’t even admit they had known each other before yesterday.
Drake pulled a canteen from a small pouch strapped to his waist and took a couple of swallows of water without slowing down. He decided to change the subject. “I’m concerned that whoever hit the taxi yesterday—”
“May try again. Don’t sweat it. As long as you’re part of Running California you’re under the protection of Giganticorp. You’re safe.”
It was the second time he’d said that. Melody moved over so that she was on the other side of Casey. “You just said yourself that parts of the California coast are desolate, and you don’t have enough Peaches clones to patrol them.”
“I’ll tell you what. If either of you gets injured in any kind of attack, I’ll give you a million dollars. How’s that for a guarantee?”
Drake smiled. “My sister will love it. But it won’t do me any good if I’m six feet under.”
“You’re not chickening out, are you? After the firefights you survived in Korea?”
Giganticorp had investigated his military career. Found out about Melody. Now Casey was appealing to his manhood. He really wanted Drake on this run. Why? Something to think about. He changed the subject again.
“I wonder if a really high tide ever reaches those houses we passed.”
Casey took in the entire beach around them with a sweep of his hand. “This belongs to everyone. Nobody should be allowed to build houses on the beach.”
“You mean because of the danger that they’ll be washed away?”
Houses on Malibu Beach, north of Los Angeles, were periodically damaged during storms.
“Because the beach belongs to everyone.”
Casey was repeating himself. Drake decided to test him. “According to California law, the part of the beach below the mean high-tide line does belong to everyone. The part above that is private property where it isn’t a government-owned recreation area.”
“The boundary line between public and private property should be at least an eighth of a mile inland.”
Melody laughed. “Based on my observations so far, I would say it’s a little late for that.”
Casey looked up as if searching the heavens for some kind of truth. “Is it?”
Casey stayed with them as they ran along the isthmus between the bay and the ocean. They ran on the silky white sand instead of the pavement of Silver Strand Boulevard because the softer surface was easier on Drake’s back.
“Unidentified vehicle at nine o’clock.”
The other two followed Melody’s pointing arm and saw a jeep coming across the sand at an angle to cut them off. She turned to Drake. “Do we need to take evasive action?”
Although what evasive action they could take without weapons, in the middle of the beach, Drake didn’t know. They certainly couldn’t outrun the jeep. They stopped running and watched it approach. Melody moved away from Drake so that they wouldn’t present an easy target. Casey watched the jeep too, but didn’t seem to be alarmed.
The driver wore a fatigue uniform, and Drake concluded he must be a naval officer. He relaxed a little. As far as he knew, the navy didn’t have anything against him.
The jeep stopped beside them, and the officer bid them good morning. When they responded in kind, he said, “There may still be unexploded shells on this part of the beach from training exercises. For your own safety I recommend that you run on the road.”
“No problem.” Casey smiled at the officer. “We’ll do that. We don’t want to get blown up.”
The officer thanked them and drove away.
Casey turned his smile on Drake and Melody. “False alarm. I told you I’d protect you.”
Drake noticed that he took a large handkerchief out of his waistband and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
CHAPTER 4
The San Diego-Coronado Bridge opens today, Sunday, August 3, 1969. It has a distinctive curve and soaring sweep and is the first structural conquest of San Diego Bay, joining the Island of Coronado and City of San Diego. The bridge is 2.1 miles long and has a vertical clearance of approximately 200 feet, so that the tallest ships can pass beneath it.
***
A crowd had gathered in the park near the entrance to the San Diego-Coronado Bridge to watch the opening ceremony. A platform, covered with red, white, and blue bunting, was set up with seats for Coronado and San Diego city officials. They took turns praising themselves for constructing this magnificent structure.
Fred had herded the Running California group into an area near the platform. Drake, who wasn’t much for speeches, tuned out the droning from the platform and looked at the other people. Many of them were dressed in shorts and T-shirts. The first traffic allowed on the bridge would be pedestrians—runners and walkers. After several hours, the bridge would be closed to pedestrians and opened to vehicle traffic. Drake thought it was a shame that a walkway hadn’t been included on the bridge so that pedestrians could use it all the time.
Drake’s attention was brought back to the platform because the speaker mentioned the name C
asey Messinger. He said that Casey had been instrumental in arranging the run/walk that was to take place before the bridge opened to vehicle traffic. He called Casey up to the platform. Casey bounced up the temporary wooden steps to cheers and applause from the enthusiastic crowd, still in his running uniform, shook hands with the official who had introduced him, and went to the microphone.
With a big smile on his face, he raised his arms, as if proclaiming a great victory. “Isn’t this a glorious day?”
Affirmative shouts accompanied more cheers and applause.
Casey waited for the noise to quiet down before he started speaking again. He said how pleased he was that the bridge had been built. Although he didn’t take credit for building the bridge, he had a way of speaking that made it sound as if the whole thing had been his idea. He talked about how everybody here would get to know the bridge personally by covering it on foot.
Then he talked about Running California. “This is the perfect day to start a run of the California coast by going over our brand new bridge. I’d like you to meet the ten teams competing for the prize of a million dollars. Will the runners please come up on the stage?”
Drake hadn’t expected this. Apparently the other runners hadn’t either. They looked at each other, each one unwilling to lead the way. Finally they started toward the steps.
Melody put a hand on Drake’s shoulder. “I expect we’ll have to get used to this sort of thing. Casey wants to get as much publicity as possible.”
In their former lives together they had shunned the spotlight and lived in the shadows. This was a big change. Melody went up the steps behind the other runners, followed by Drake who went slowly and tried to keep the pain of the ascent from showing in his face. He wondered what the crowd thought about the bandage on his face and the cuts on his arms and legs. He heard enthusiastic cheers.
Casey spoke again after the cheers died down. “We hope to do this run every year. Perhaps in the future some of you will be part of it. I won’t take the time to introduce all the runners by name, but I’d like to mention two of them. The first is Tom Batson, the only Californian to ever win the Boston Marathon.”
More cheering. Tom raised his hand.
“The other person I’d like to mention fought in the Korean War. He was awarded the Silver Star for gallantry in action. Since that time he has been working to preserve our freedom in a capacity that I can’t talk about here. Rest assured that he is a real hero. Oliver Drake.”
He pointed at Drake. Drake saw this coming when Casey mentioned the Korean War. He didn’t want to be cheered for being a hero. He was just doing his job. But the crowd was yelling. He felt awkward and wanted to hide.
“Raise your arm and smile,” Melody hissed in his ear.
Drake reluctantly raised his arm as cheers engulfed him. Photographers snapped his picture. The Korean conflict, although not widely popular, at least had the advantage of being over, something that couldn’t be said about Vietnam.
Again, Casey waited for the cheering to subside. “Incidentally, Drake—he likes to be called Drake rather than Oliver—didn’t receive his broken nose in combat.”
Titters from the audience.
“He’ll be fine in a few days. I have one more announcement, and then we’ll cut to the ribbon cutting ceremony.”
More titters.
“I think this is the ideal time and place for me to announce that I am going to be a candidate for the United States Senate from the great state of California, running as an independent.”
***
Hundreds of runners and walkers thronged the bridge. Drake and Melody hadn’t started with the first group of runners, because Drake knew he couldn’t keep up with them. Now they were trapped within a large mass of slower joggers. This was fine with Drake, whose back hurt from the effects of the day’s exertions. He wanted nothing more than to be flat on his bed at the hotel.
They didn’t speak until the space around them grew large enough so that they were able to talk without a dozen other people hearing every word.
Melody spoke first. “Surprise, surprise. Yon Casey is ambitious. I thought he had a lean and hungry look.”
“I think you’re misquoting your bard, but in any case, I don’t like the implication that Tom and I are supporting him.”
“And the reference to your secret activities was out of bounds. He could get us into trouble.”
“This whole thing smells like rotten fish.”
“Do you want to drop out now?”
Drake considered. “There’s something going on here that’s below the surface. I’d like to stick around and try to find out what it is, if possible. Let’s see if I can still move in the morning. Are you game to continue?”
“Always.”
CHAPTER 5
From the San Diego-Coronado Bridge the route of Running California heads north on Harbor Drive. Follow it around the bay, south of the San Diego International Airport. Turn right on Lowell Street and jog right on Nimitz Boulevard. Turn right on Sunset Cliffs Boulevard and left on Mission Bay Drive. Continue north along Pacific Beach. It’s all right to run on the road next to the beach here rather than on the sand. Cliffs and rock formations prevent running on the beach through La Jolla. Use the cliff path whenever possible. Otherwise, run on the adjacent streets. North of La Jolla run on the beach. A race official will record the time of each team where the run ends on the sand at Torrey Pines Beach. Please obey all traffic laws when running in populated areas. Race officials will observe the runners at various checkpoints and provide water. Runners taking shortcuts will be penalized by having time added. Any runners not covering the entire distance will be disqualified. Fred Rathbun has final judgment on penalties.
***
When Drake tried to get out of bed the next morning, he knew he was in trouble. He couldn’t even sit up because of the pain in his back. He had spent most of the night in one position, not daring to move. He lay still for several more minutes, wondering whether he could lie there until his back got better. At least he wasn’t in pain when he didn’t move. The pressure on his bladder banished that thought.
He knew that if he could roll over onto his side, there would be less pull on his back when he sat up. He finally managed that because he had no choice, but the pain almost overwhelmed him. He rested for another minute and made it to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. He grabbed the aspirin bottle from the nightstand and swallowed several of the white pills without benefit of water, ignoring the acidic taste.
He wondered whether he could lift his legs high enough to pull on his pants.
***
Several of the other runners were already eating breakfast at the Hotel del Coronado’s outdoor Boardwalk Café overlooking the blue ocean when Melody arrived there. Drake wasn’t among them. The air was still cool, but the sun was bright. It would get warm—perhaps too warm for marathon runners. It was a good thing they were running near the water where the temperature was always significantly cooler.
She sat down at a table next to a slightly built man named Aki—she thought he might be Japanese—and ordered a light breakfast.
Aki grinned at her. “Good day for running. I hope it doesn’t get too hot.”
“I hope not.”
The heat was the least of her worries, of which the major one was Drake’s fitness to continue. He had retired early last night, complaining of pain and fatigue. Million dollars or no million dollars, there was no point in torturing him. If they didn’t have a chance, why not pack it in?
“Good morning, Melody. Morning, Aki.”
Casey had a big smile on his face as he sat down beside Melody. He was wearing a conservative business suit with a tie this morning—Melody had to admit that he looked like a businessman—and radiated good humor.
Melody studied his bright red tie. “I take it you’re not going to run today.”
“Nope. Gotta get back to work.”
“Where’s your office?”
“Gig
anticorp’s headquarters is in San Jose. I’ll grab one of the shuttle flights that tool up and down the coast all day. They’re also going to make it easy for me to keep tabs on how you’re doing.”
He ordered coffee from a hovering waitress, glanced at the menu, and then turned to Melody.
“What do you hear from your teammate this morning?”
“Nothing.”
“Well, I’m sure he’ll be down in a few minutes. He looked strong yesterday. He appears to be recovering remarkably fast.”
Casey was either a cockeyed optimist or trying to convince himself of Drake’s good health.
Melody drank her orange juice while she contemplated a reply. Did she dare challenge the mighty Casey—CEO and self-proclaimed senatorial candidate?
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for him to continue. He might injure himself permanently.”
When Casey didn’t immediately say anything, Melody turned to look at him. The intensity in his blue eyes told her that he was fighting to hold back an outburst. He took a deep breath and a sip of coffee.
“He has to continue. He can’t quit now, not at the start. A lot of time and expense has been put into Running California. He has no choice.”
“Doesn’t he?”
Melody and Casey turned around and saw Drake who had come up behind them silently. Part of his expression was covered by the bandage, but his lips were set in a grim line, and an unusual scowl creased his smooth forehead. He wasn’t dressed in running clothes. He sat down laboriously in the seat next to Casey.
Melody broke the silence. “How do you feel?”
“Don’t ask. At least I’m up and walking, which is more than I could say twenty minutes ago.”
Drake ordered breakfast from the menu. Aki looked uncomfortable, excused himself, and left the table. Casey didn’t say anything. He appeared to be unnaturally subdued. Melody couldn’t think of anything more to say. She thought her point had been proved.
Drake managed a smile. “Did I walk in on a funeral? If so, I’d like to know who died. Not me. I’ll be fine. I just need a little rest.”
