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 Casey 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.