The pickup turned off at the Old Pacific Coast Highway exit, the road that leads to the oil pier, with Cyrus following. They made a left on to Ocean Avenue and drove up the causeway in the center of the pier. Cyrus slowed down, turned off his lights, and followed in the darkness. The full moon lit his way. He saw the tail lights of the Ford get bright about mid way down the 3,000 foot causeway. Two oil pipes, like large pontoons on a hydroplane, straddled each side of the pier. He stopped and got out. He heard the car door of Duncan’s pickup slam and he could see the shadowy image of Briana being forced to the side of the causeway and over the large pipeline. Cyrus ran as hard as he could until he reached a position a few feet from the pickup that was far enough away so Duncan wouldn’t notice him and close enough for him to get a good shot off. When he saw Duncan raise his gun to Briana’s head, he aimed and squeezed the trigger of his chief’s special.
His shot missed, but the crack of the round going off startled Duncan, and when he lowered his gun, Briana wheeled a roundhouse leg kick square onto the side of his head. Duncan went over the side and down into the ocean, about thirty feet below. Cyrus ran to the oil pipe and tried to jump over it, like he had seen Duncan and Briana do, but he couldn’t. He had to run back down the causeway until he found a large piece of a bolt that was protruding from a pipe connection. He grabbed it and pulled himself over clumsily. He slid out of control to the other side of the pipe onto a narrow strip of pier deck and nearly fell over the side himself. He picked himself up and then ran over to where Briana was standing.
They looked down over the edge to see if they could find Duncan. The wind was blowing pretty hard and it felt like it was just above freezing. The ocean was rough and large ocean breakers smashed against the pillars of the oil pier. It didn’t look to Cyrus that anyone could have survived a fall into the churning seawater below. If the drop didn’t kill you the fifty degree water temperature eventually would. Briana put her arms around Cyrus and buried her head into his chest. He could feel her shaking.
“I didn’t see him, did you?”
“No, and I don’t have time to worry about him either. My partner is down and needs my help, let’s go.”
They walked along the narrow strip of pier that was just wide enough for Cyrus and Briana to walk along single file and leave little more than a couple of feet pier deck before disappearing into the darkness. Cyrus intended to go back to the place on the pipeline that had the protruding bolt in one of its connections. He was about to tell Briana to go ahead and jump over the pipe, when a bright spot light shined upon them both. Tracing the bright light back to its source, Cyrus observed a sea-water drenched Maverick Duncan standing on the deck of a large powerboat, holding a Glock MP5 automatic and aiming it at them. The next moment the clang, clang, clang, of metal hitting the oil pipeline startled them, causing them both to hide down below in the crevice between the pipe and the pier.
He’s a professional all the way; three bursts at a time, only an amateur fires more, he said to himself as he led Briana down the side of the oil pipeline. The light followed them and then Duncan squeezed off three more rounds. They missed by a few inches. Those rounds are close considering the shooter is standing on a bouncing deck in six foot seas, Cyrus surmised. Sooner or later he was going to get lucky and kill one of them. Cyrus didn’t want it to be Briana.
“Briana, climb over and get over behind the pipe here; I’ll catch up with you down further.”
“I won’t leave you, Cyrus.” She clung to his side as they continued to sidle their way down the small strip of pier that ran along the outer edge of the pipeline. Cyrus didn’t have time to argue or the strength to fight her, so he kept going with her right behind him, bent down to hide as much as possible beneath the bottom curve of the oil pipe. When he got to the pipe connection that had the protruding bolt, they stopped.
Exposing himself to light from the boat, Cyrus jumped up onto the pipe, grabbed hold of the bolt, and started to hoist himself over the top. When he was nearly over it, the rapid clang, clang, clang of automatic gunfire striking the steel oil surprised him and caused him to let go of the bolt. He fell back down to the deck of the pier. Landing sideways on his foot, he dropped on his side, and rolled to the pier’s edge. Briana screamed and then scrambled over to him, reaching for him unsuccessfully.
Cyrus grabbed the pier deck as he fell over the edge of the pier and hung over the ocean. The spotlight caught up to them and Cyrus could see Briana straining with all of her strength to keep him from falling and pull him up. The spotlight from the boat shined directly on her. Realizing that she could not possibly pull him up and that it was only a matter of seconds before he pulled her over the side with him, Cyrus grabbed her hand with his hand and broke it free from her grip, purposely causing his own fall.
Waving his arms wildly to correct his trajectory as he went, he dropped down the thirty feet into the white-capped ocean. He managed to land in the water feet first. The sudden immersion into the cold brine felt, oddly enough, like an intense burn, as though he had fallen into a lake of fire instead of nearly frozen ocean. Fighting his way back to the surface, he gulped in as much air as he could. The spotlight from the boat lit up the area.
They saw me fall off the edge of the pier and are looking for me, and they don’t mean to save me, either, Cyrus said to himself. He knew the next big wave would probably send him crashing into the pier pilings and it wouldn’t matter anyway. This is as good a way to die as any other, I guess, he said to himself. Observing that the waves had calmed down for the moment, he struggled to get to the piling nearest him, thinking that it would be a safe refuge against the pounding waves and good place to hide from Duncan.
Once he reached the concrete piling, he grabbed hold of one of its corners and was instantly pierced through the hand by razor sharp barnacles. His hands and fingers were by now too numb from the cold to feel any pain, but he realized that the blood flowing from his wounds meant that he was now prime shark bait. The next instant, he heard a splash.
He was under the pier now, floating between the pilings. The next big wave would smash him into them and kill him for sure. Maybe it would be better to let Duncan shoot me, he said to himself. He could see the enormous, black, face of an ocean breaker heading for him. He froze, transfixed by the fast approaching, watery, behemoth and then he felt a strong tug at his waist and he took a deep breath as whatever it was pulled him under, deeper and deeper. For a moment he believed he had been caught in the mouth of a giant shark. When the mystery fish let him go, he swam with him back to the surface. Briana was waiting for him.
“Why did you pull me under?” Cyrus shouted.
“To let the wave pass over you, that’s why. It’s the only way to avoid being crushed by the waves. It’s called duck diving.”
“Duck diving, are you crazy?”
“Hold on to me, I am going to get us out of here and back to the shore.”
Cyrus started to protest; he was certain he was too heavy for her to rescue. He wanted to tell her to get to shore without him, but before he could answer she pulled him under the water again. Realizing that if there was anyone who knew the ocean well enough to save him, it would be Briana, he relented. They went through several more sequences of duck diving under the wave as it passed over them and then swimming toward shore. Soon they passed beneath the pier to the north side. She caught Cyrus by the shoulder and held on to him in order to guide him through the waves. Again they had to dive down deep as far as they could under the water to avoid the crush of the incoming waves and then come back up for air and swim as hard as they could for the shore. They repeated this arduous drill over and over as they struggled toward the safety of the beach. The strong ocean current pulled them northward, back toward La Conchita.
After several more minutes of duck diving beneath ocean breakers and swimming toward the beach, they came within sight of their destination. Cyrus could feel the current of water rushing out to sea and pulling him back into the deep water. H
e knew another large wave was on its way. Briana grabbed him by the shoulders to push him under, but she was too late. The water mountain picked them both up and elevated them high into the air and then tossed them over its face. They skipped over it several times to the bottom. The wave’s thick edge came down on top of them like a hammer and pushed them end over end. Cyrus felt like a piece of clothing going through the spin cycle in a washing machine. When the force of the wave had dissipated to the point he once again had control of his body, he stood up and to his amazement he was in only a little more than knee-deep water. He searched for Briana, and found her already on the beach, walking around and calling for him.
Shivering and exhausted, he had never before felt so happy to be alive. He trudged several feet to the dry beach and fell into the sand. His numbed feet ached and he could barely move. His arms felt leaden, his ribs ached from holding his breath, and his light blue, mouth swelled from drinking too much salty ocean. Bits of sand filled the crevices of his nose, ears, and teeth and a trickle of blood flowed from his frozen hands. Briana followed behind and sat down next to him. Covering her eyes with her hand to protect them from the whirling sand, Briana shouted to be heard over the howl of the wind, “Are you all right, Cyrus?”
Shaking from head to foot, Cyrus lay in the sand, holding his hands on either side of his face he shouted back to her, “I’ve never been better!”
“We can’t stay here long, Cyrus, we’ll freeze to death!”
Pushing himself up into a sitting position, Cyrus nodded his head in agreement.
“Briana, I think we drifted pretty far north of Rincon Island, we must be almost parallel with La Conchita.”
“Head for the rocks, I know a way back to the other side of the freeway that runs underneath!”
As Cyrus was about to enter a protest and suggest that they try to get back to the Dodge, a bright light distracted them both. Estimating the distance to be close to five hundred feet, Cyrus spotted the power boat, from which the light came. Just beyond the impact zone of the breaking waves, it bobbed up and down violently. The blurred, barely visible, image of Duncan holding the MP-5 spiked his adrenalin.
“Let’s go!” Cyrus shouted as he gathered himself up and started running toward the freeway. Puffs of sand caused by the shots from the automatic, which were being fired at them from the boat, followed them as they ran for boulder-lined cliff that ran along the edge of the 101 freeway. He remembered that the MP-5 had a maximum effective range of only about three hundred feet, but its actual range was one or two hundred yards farther. It didn’t matter, he wasn’t going to take any chances of Duncan getting a lucky shot, especially now that they had made it alive this far, so he kept running.
The run made Cyrus feel warmer. He followed Briana to a large concrete doorway that protruded from the wall of rock. The wind whipped through the opening, creating a steady, high-pitched, mournful, howl. The doorway was only three and a half feet high and inside it was pitch black. Cyrus stopped short, but Briana stooped over and crawled into the opening without hesitation. I think she’s done this before, Cyrus said to himself as he hunched down and with great effort began to slowly duck-walk down the drainage way.
“Cyrus, are you all right?” Briana’s voice echoed back to him.
“I’m good, I just can’t see anything,” Cyrus replied, “I am just glad to be out of the wind and out of sight of that boat.”
“Keep your hand along the wall; we will be on the other side very soon.”
As she was speaking, he noticed a light at the end of the drainage way. It’s probably from a street light, Cyrus surmised.
When they got to the other side, the first thing Cyrus observed was how much the onshore winds had died, it was as if God had pulled a switch and shut it off. The temperature rose slightly, but not enough to stop his entire body, from his knees to his jaws, from shaking. His shoes were filled with flesh numbing seawater. He walked over to the embankment near the edge of the freeway and sat down. He took them off and dumped the water out of them. Briana sat down beside him and put her arms around his shoulders. Her body felt warm and to his amazement, she appeared to him to have been invigorated by their recent activity rather than exhausted, like him.
“Did you enjoy your workout?”
“The swim wasn’t so bad, but I didn’t care for the style of our trainer-his motivation technique was a little scary.”
“I didn’t like that either.”
Cyrus admired Briana’s calm demeanor. She didn’t shiver and her breathing was normal, while he trembled and wheezed. She may as well have been for a stroll in the park, instead of a quarter-mile swim through six foot, fifty five degree temperature seas. Cyrus had endured more physical action the last thirty minutes than he had had in thirty months combined.
Once he had finished putting his shoes back on, she took his hands in hers and held them tightly. Two kids on bikes stopped and stared at them while they sat there on the embankment under the street light.
“You guys running from the cops?” the oldest one, a freckle faced carrot top with a front tooth missing, asked.
“Why do you think that?” Cyrus asked.
“Because I know you haven’t been swimming in your clothes just for fun, that’s why and there’s been a bunch of cop cars driving around here all night. Don’t worry, mister we won’t tell no one we saw you.” The boy looked frightened and started to get back up on his bike.
Cyrus reached into his back pocket and retrieved his wallet. Flashing his badge at them, he said in a gruff voice, “We are cops! Where did you see the cop cars?”
“Up by the landslide, near the abandoned house, it’s on Carpenteria Street.”
“We saw a helicopter too!” The younger boy said.
“Yeah, they had spotlights and everything.”
“The helicopter landed right on Carpenteria Street in front of the abandoned house; it was pretty cool.”
“My Dad said it was the kind of chopper they use for doing medical stuff, a metalvac I think he said.”
“Thanks, boys… say you aren’t out past the curfew are you?”
“No, it’s only 9:30 and we got until 10, besides we had to watch them put the cop in the stretcher and take off,” the carrot top replied as he got back up on his mountain bike and rode off.
Cyrus assumed the cop that was medevaced was Max, but he was still worried. Rattlesnake bites aren’t often deadly, like Max said, but they are dangerous and you can suffer permanent damage from them. He prayed that the medical help arrived in time to prevent that. He and Briana stood up from the embankment and started walking up the street towards Moon’s hideout.
“We were out there fighting those waves for thirty minutes at least,” he said.
Briana shook back her head and laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“It was more like five minutes, not thirty.”
“That was easy for you, but I don’t swim, at least I haven’t in about ten years. I don’t even know how I did it.”
“Adrenalin, that is how.” She placed her hand on his arm, “And I think you are also a strong man.”
Cyrus nodded. Fishing in his pocket as they went, he pulled out his cell phone. Water dripped from it everywhere. He sighed and put it back. He smiled at Briana and then said, “Isn’t it nice to be able to breathe without choking back seawater?”
Briana nodded and then said, “So you think I am a policeman?”
“No, I think you are an FBI agent,” he said, imitating her speech.
“How did you know?”
“At first I just guessed. Lots of things about you don’t make much sense. You’re too smart and too well-connected to be working for minimum wage as a secretary and you’re too poor to be renting a nice condo on the beach. Now I’m sure you’re an agent of some kind.”
“And why is that?”
“Back there on the oil pier, when you stayed calm and gave that Duncan clown a kick in the head just at the right moment-very
professional.”
Briana hung her head and said, “I do not feel very professional right now. I was supposed to be working undercover. I guess I have messed that all up now.” She stopped and put her hands over her eyes.
“What’s the matter?” Cyrus said.
“Oh, I had my contacts in the ocean and the salt makes my eyes feel like they are on fire.”
They stopped walking and stood on the corner under a street light. When she finished she tossed them on the ground and they continued walking.
“You always take your contacts out before you swim?”
“Yes, if I can remember. I do not always remember, and this is what I get. I don’t use them in the water; I’m nearsighted so I can maneuver my wind board fine without my contacts.”
When they reached the back street that ran along the foot of Rincon Mountain, where Moon’s hideout was, a black and white met them. The patrolman inside shined a spotlight on them. Cyrus flashed his badge and the patrolman signaled for them to get in. The uniform told Cyrus that Max was at Santa Barbara General and the last he heard from the dispatcher, he was going to be O.K. Max had been conscious only long enough to tell them that his partner needed help and that Cyrus was in pursuit of a kidnap victim. The sedative they gave Max for the snake bite made him drowsy and he passed out, so they couldn’t get any more information out of him.
“Get an APB out on a Maverick Duncan with the following description…”
When he had finished, Cyrus leaned back in the seat of the black and white. He shivered and his teeth chattered uncontrollably. The warm air from the heater felt so good he ignored the thousands of painful needles that pierced his thawing hands and feet.
“I left my squad car on the causeway at Rincon Island Pier. Send someone over to pick it up. I really need some water. Is there a convenience store open around here?”
The uniform drove to the Mini Mart and got them both a couple of waters and some coffee. Cyrus drank down both of his waters and Briana did the same. Going back to the trunk of the squad car, the uniform returned with a couple of blankets.
Moratorium Page 23
