Run into Trouble (3 page)

“That sounds like you. I’ll get you some
aspirin. That won’t kill you.”

“There’s something bothering me.” Drake
laboriously rolled over onto his back. “You and I being matched for
this race is far too great a coincidence.”

“I was thinking the same thing. Giganticorp
knows a lot more about us than is good. What we did together was
top secret. Especially what we did when we were off duty.”

Drake smiled at the thought. “We need to
keep our eyes open.”

“And our mouths zipped. Loose lips sink
ships.”

“Seriously.”

“Seriously. Of course you’re right. You were
always right.”

“Thank you.” He didn’t mind sarcasm coming
from her. “I know we’re supposed to meet for an introductory
dinner, but I can’t make it.”

“Quite right. I’m the doctor, and I’m
prescribing bed rest. Alone. Fortunately, you and I have the only
single rooms. The other nine teams are all lads, and teammates have
to room together. I’m the lone girl in the race.”

“I’d rather have you for a teammate than any
male runner I can think of.”

“Flattery is nice, but it won’t get me into
bed with you. I’ve learned my lesson on that score. I’ll be back
with ice and aspirin. And I’ll have dinner sent up to you.”

CHAPTER 3

Border Field State Park marks the United
States side of the border with Mexico. The route for Running
California starts here and wends its way north along the beach past
the Oneonta Slough. Some wading may be necessary. The route
continues along Imperial Beach and then across the narrow isthmus
that separates the Pacific Ocean from San Diego Bay. It may be
easier to run on Silver Strand Boulevard (Route 75) than the sand
here. Stay on Route 75 and continue to the entrance to the San
Diego-Coronado Bridge.

***

The official Giganticorp bus was bright
green with “Giganticorp” written on the side in large orange
script. Below the company name the words “Running California” were
painted on it in purple. The whole scene would have been impossible
for Drake to miss, even if Melody hadn’t been standing beside the
bus waving frantically at him. He limped over to her.

She looked at him, not trying to hide her
dismay. “Where were you? I rang your room, but you didn’t
answer.”

“Good morning to you, too. My first problem
is going to be getting up these steps.”

The initial step, especially. He’d had
enough trouble negotiating a few much lower steps. Drake tried to
lift one foot, but the pain in his back stopped him well before it
reached the level of the step. If the bus had been able to pull up
to the curb in front of the hotel, he might have had more success.
The extra nine or ten inches of height from street level was a
killer. He did no better with the other foot. His run of the
California coast might end right now.

“Could we have a boost here?” Melody called
to Peaches who was sitting in the driver’s seat.

Peaches got up and stomped down the steps.
Without saying a word, he positioned himself behind Drake, grabbed
his elbows, and lifted him up to the first step with about the same
effort that it would take most people to lift half a dozen
hardcover books from a table. It hurt to be lifted, but Drake
squelched a groan. The other steps were lower, and Drake managed to
escape further humiliation; he pulled himself up by grabbing the
handrails and putting most of his weight on his arms.

Ignoring the stares of the other runners, he
stumbled along the aisle and fell into an empty seat.

“Move over—if you can.”

He laboriously moved over to the window seat
as Melody sat down beside him. In contrast to his elephantine
moves, she was so graceful that it almost looked as if she sat on
air just above the seat. Peaches shifted into gear, and the bus
started rolling.

Melody looked at him. “I didn’t think you
were going to show up. Maybe it would be better if you hadn’t.
You’re fit for nothing but lying in a bed of pain.”

“You always did have a way with words. But
to answer your earlier question, I was on the floor stretching, and
I couldn’t get to the phone when it rang. The pain woke me at four,
and I spent the next three hours alternately icing my back and
trying to stretch without killing myself.”

“Did you eat?”

“I had room service bring me breakfast. I
figured if Casey could afford a million dollar prize, he could
afford that. Tell me about the dinner last night.”

“I met the runners I didn’t meet yesterday
afternoon. Naturally, they’re completely discounting us.”

Drake shrugged. “They’re not used to seeing
women runners. That would work to our advantage, but because of the
shape I’m in, they’re quite correct to discount us.”

“There’s another thing.” Melody lowered her
voice. “I’m the only one not from California.”

Drake pondered that. “I think we have some
questions to ask Casey. Did he make a speech?”

“Actually, he did. He’s quite the orator. He
talked about the glorious adventure we were embarking on and how
much good it was going to do for the great state of
California.”

“Did he mention the million dollars?”

“He managed to toss that in. And he
emphasized the tax free part. Although I’m not sure how he’s going
to manage that. One thing I’ve learned since I’ve been in the
States is that taxes are inevitable, just like they are in jolly
old England, and just like it says in the saying.”

“I suspect he’s going to pay additional
money to the winners to cover the taxes. Although, if he does that,
the additional payment becomes taxable, and he’ll have to give more
money to pay those taxes. And then—”

“I get your point. It goes on forever. Well,
I’ll let you be the calculator for our team. You always were more
calculating than I was.”

***

“We missed you at dinner last night.”

The man avoided looking at Drake’s bandaged
face.

“I heard it was a lot of fun.”

He shook hands with the eighth or ninth
runner he had just met. He thought this one called himself Glen.
The names and faces blurred together, although he realized that
their body types were similar—thin and not too tall. Not one was
over six feet, and the shortest had only an inch on Melody who
stood about five and one-half feet. In contrast, Drake cleared six
feet by a couple of inches and had a stockier build.

One of the runners had a name that sounded
familiar: Tom something-or-other. Drake mentioned this to Melody
who was standing beside him, also trying to learn the names.

“Tom Batson. He’s the only Californian ever
to win the Boston Marathon.”

“I should know that.”

“After what you’ve been through, it’s a
wonder you remember your
own
name. These are serious
runners. Even if you were healthy, we wouldn’t stand much of a
chance.”

Peaches had brought them to Border Field
State Park. Drake didn’t know it until he swung himself off the bus
using mostly his arms, but Casey had ridden on the bus with them.
He was wearing runner’s clothes, and he was going to run with them
today. Fred had driven separately. There were no reporters here at
the boundary between the United States and Mexico.

Fred herded the runners over to the Mexican
Border Monument, a marble obelisk proclaiming the friendship of the
United States and Mexico, and took pictures of Casey and the
runners. The ugly metal and wire border fence extended on either
side of the monument and into the ocean. Drake could see a section
of Tijuana through the fence, complete with a bullring, which
contrasted to the barrenness on the U.S. side.

Casey addressed the group. “I realize that
this is an inauspicious start to a grand enterprise, but you’ll
receive a proper sendoff this afternoon at the Coronado Bridge. So
let’s get going. We’re going to run up the beach for awhile before
we hit the road. There may be some swampy places, but we’re
runners, and we don’t mind getting our feet wet, right?”

Everybody echoed, “Right.”

“Okay, follow me.”

Casey set off along the sand at a moderate
pace. The runners, all wearing shorts and singlets with Running
California printed on them, easily kept up with him. Drake’s
clothes had been delivered to his room by the taciturn Peaches.
Only his running shoes were his own. Fortunately, he had been
wearing them yesterday. If by some miracle he was able to continue,
he would have to buy at least one more pair of shoes and break them
in as they went.

Drake and Melody started behind the others.
At first, Drake could hardly walk, let alone run, but after a while
he loosened up a little and accelerated to a slow trot. Melody
floated effortlessly beside him.

She watched him closely. “You’re looking a
little better. How do you feel?”

“Like somebody is sticking pins into my
voodoo doll.”

The cloudless sky proclaimed that it was a
California August—summer at its peak. How could anybody feel bad on
such a beautiful day?

Surprisingly, within a few minutes Drake
felt better. The movement helped. Running elevated his spirits, as
it often did. Producing endorphins, or something. They sped up to a
jog. He and Melody chatted about inconsequential things. His
problems seemed to melt away. He almost forgot that someone might
be trying to kill him.

They splashed through shallow water as
Oneonta Slough lazily joined the ocean, but wet feet were par for
the course for marathoners. Running on sand didn’t jolt his back as
much as running on a hard surface, but the tradeoff was that it
required more effort because the sand gave beneath his feet. That
slowed them down, but speed was the least of his worries.

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.