Rooms - James L. Rubart [96]
After that he remembered nothing.
Micah’s eyes opened to the trees at the edge of the beach outlining the dark gray sky. Small eddies of seawater swirled around the side of his hood, but the waves were a world away now. The question of who was on the beach spun through his mind as he pushed up to his hands and knees, waited a moment, then sat back on his heels.
He knew there was a connection between the person he’d seen and his rescue. Without the hooded figure, he had little doubt his life would have ended on the bottom of the ocean floor.
He struggled to one knee, then stood and eased over to the spot where the person had been, hoping to make out a shoe print in the sand, a clue to the identity of the spectral observer of his near death. The sand was soft from the rain, and a clear impression of a boot or tennis shoe should have been easy to spot. But there wasn’t even the hint of a footprint.
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Less than a mile north of Ecola Creek a cape jutted into the ocean blocking the way to Crescent Beach except at extremely low tide, so the route wasn’t heavily traveled.
But Micah and Rick rose early enough on Tuesday to get around the point with only half an inch of water swimming up to kiss their running shoes. It had been almost a week since they’d talked, which was unusual, so a combination run and conversation was an excellent way to start the day.
The deep scrape on his foot Micah had gotten during his kayaking ordeal still stung but not enough to keep him from this run. It was good to be with the mechanic.
Micah glanced at Rick as they fell into an easy rhythm beside each other. He still didn’t know how to describe the man. A little too young to be a father figure; a little too old to be the wise big brother. Maybe he was simply a mentor.
Micah had had business mentors before, who had helped further his and their own careers as RimSoft grew. But his relationship with Rick was different. The taste of ulterior motive never flitted around the edges of their friendship. Rick never seemed to want anything from Micah, yet Rick pushed him, drove him, forced him to look at his life in ways he’d never considered.
He couldn’t see what Rick got out of the relationship and didn’t think about it too deeply. Micah didn’t want the illusion to be shattered that, for the first time in his life, someone knew about his money and success but couldn’t care less how either might benefit him.
They jogged around the point, and Crescent Beach opened up in front of them. It looked as if no one had stepped on it in months. With the old trail from Ecola Park above washed out, the only other way to access the beach was a much steeper and longer path from the parking lot above, which many people didn’t realize existed. So their indentations in the sand were possibly the first of early fall.
Micah challenged Rick with a smile, and they broke into a dead sprint across the sand. Even with the difference in ages, Rick wouldn’t give up without a fight.
Seventy yards down the beach, Micah glanced back. Rick pounded down the beach just three paces back. After about 150 yards Micah’s lungs won out over his mind, and he staggered to a stop. He bent over, hands on knees to catch his breath. Rick did the same not far behind him, both of them laughing between gasps for more air.
After their heart rates returned to normal, they found a log, long battered by the wind and waves into a functional seat, and sat down.
“You think about death?” Micah said after a few minutes of watching two otters joust in the water.
“Yep.”
“Yes? That’s it?”
“Yeah.”
Micah knew he was teasing and waited for the mirth to burst out of Rick’s mouth.
“What do you want to know?” Rick said after his laughter subsided.
“I went kayaking a couple days ago.” Micah paused as the emotion of the event swelled inside. “Nearly drowned. I was stupid. Thought I knew