Alan Cook - Run into Trouble

Gorda didn’t have much of anything, including motels and restaurants. It did have, as Drake noticed, probably the highest gasoline prices in the country. He and Melody ate dinner with Fred and his new assistant, Charles.

Fred was beaming as they sat down at their table in the small, homey restaurant.

“Congratulations, you two. You’re now in fourth place. Are you ready to take a shot at the lead?”

“Sure,” Melody said. “I’m spending the evening casting spells on Tom, Jerry, Phil, and Brian to slow them down. It’s a good thing I’m a witch.”

“You gained a few minutes on both teams today.”

Drake made a face. “At the rate we’re gaining on them, we’ll catch them in a month or so. But, unfortunately, we’re almost out of time.”

Charles spoke to Melody. “When I drove past you today on that first big hill, you were running away from the men. How do you do it?” His expression was a mixture of awe and admiration.

Melody didn’t mind having male admirers, and if they were younger, that was all right too. Maybe she should sample some of that young stuff. After all, Drake had. She gave Charles her best smile.

“I tie their shoelaces together, but I leave enough play so that they don’t notice it.”

Drake didn’t mind Melody having male admirers, but did she have to smile at Charles like that? They were here for a purpose. It was time to get to work.

He looked at Fred. “What did you think about Casey’s speech last night?”

“I liked it. He said the things that had to be said. The first job of government is national defense. He’ll make a good senator.”

Melody’s smile changed to an expression resembling cynicism.

“Spoken like a loyal employee of defense contractor Giganticorp. Who’s going to take over when Casey becomes senator?”

“Not me, but we have a few candidates in mind.”

“Do any of their names start with General?”

Fred laughed. “I can’t tell you that. It’s a military secret.”

Drake’s turn. “Do you agree with this buffer zone concept that means uprooting everybody who lives near the beach?”

Fred hesitated. “It’s a radical idea, I admit. But…”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures. It’s not the first time he’s talked about that. I saw on TV that there have even been demonstrations in Malibu by those who want the rich people cleared off the beach. The comments of the demonstrators to the reporter made it sound more like a class struggle than a security measure. If I can’t afford to live on the beach, then you can’t either.”

Fred shrugged and turned to the waitress to order a drink.

Today’s run goes from Gorda to Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park, all on Route 1. The most challenging part of the run is the hill that rises to about 800 feet at Lucia, although the whole route is rolling with repeated gains and losses of 200 feet. Pace yourselves, take it easy on the downhills and carry plenty of liquids. There are a couple of drinking fountains along the route you can use to fill your water bottles. It’s Monday, and traffic should be lighter than it was yesterday.

In spite of the fact that they were now in fourth place and had a shot at third, Drake was unhappy as they climbed the big hill. Not about the race, itself, but the events surrounding the race. Two people connected with the race were dead, including the beautiful Grace. Houses had been destroyed, the submarine that apparently had done the damage found, with evidence pointing to the USSR.

Panic had ensued, fed by the media. Some were accusing the president of doing nothing in the face of imminent danger to the U.S., and a drive to impeach him was taking shape. The president, although upset with Casey for talking about the Russian connection, maintained that the administration didn’t have enough evidence to take any action. Russian officials denied any part in the incidents and were accusing the U.S. of heating up the cold war.

Casey was feeding the flames with his rhetoric, apparently for his political advantage. His proposal for a buffer zone along the coast was finding favor among certain groups of people, and the authors of a couple of newspaper op-ed pieces opposing it had been attacked as elitist and unpatriotic.

Drake and Melody were supposed to be collecting information on Casey, but that was hard to do when they were in the wilds of the Big Sur and Casey was off campaigning God knew where. Fred wasn’t going to help them. Drake was feeling the frustration of watching negative events unfold in an escalating fashion without having any control over what happened.

Melody sensed his mood and tried to cheer him up. “We’ve proven to be the best team in the hills, of which we have plenty today. By the end of the day we may be in third place.”

“What if we win the race and lose the war?”

“We’re not at war yet. Don’t count your battleships before they’re launched. Enjoy the rugged but spectacular scenery we’re running through. Live for the moment. Eat, drink, and make merry…”

“Maybe you’re right. About this Merry. Who’s she?”

Melody hit him.

Drake laughed. “Well, you’ve got Charles as a new conquest. We can add him to the growing list, which includes Tom, who’s always inviting you for drinks and card games. And Peaches. Speaking of Peaches, since we don’t have access to Casey at the moment, maybe it’s time for you to have another talk with Peaches. He may know more than he’s telling.”

“All right, I’ll do it. After all, I have to make sure that my conquests remained conquered. All this talking is slowing us down. Let’s shut up and see if we can beat everybody up the hill.”

Melody decided to dress up for her dinner with Peaches. She had invited him when she and Drake finished the run ahead of the pack and found Peaches waiting for them with the bus. He had been eating dinners alone or with Fred, but not with the runners. Melody indicated that it would be just the two of them. Peaches raised his eyebrows but accepted with no questions.

She was tired of wearing running clothes and sweat suits. She hadn’t worn a skirt since the “Pageant of the Masters” way back in Laguna Beach. Even when going out for drinks with Tom and Jerry and a few other runners, she had dressed very casually. In addition, in spite of all the men around, she had been celibate. Other than engaging in a little kneesy with Tom in a bar, she hadn’t done anything that would distress a nun.

She put on a miniskirt and a top with a V-neck cut down to here. Backless, it wasn’t built to accommodate a bra, so she took the Grace approach and went without. She had no idea what effect this would have on Peaches, the stoic, but figured what the hell, I’m going to do it anyway.

Peaches drove them in the company car to a restaurant some distance from the motel. Both motels and restaurants were so sparse in this area that it was a wonder he knew where it was, but he did. He was the perfect gentleman, even holding her chair for her when she sat down.

Melody took off the sweater she had worn against the fog and chill that had rolled in late that afternoon and draped it over the back of her chair. Since she had chosen to wear this outfit, she wasn’t going to hide it or what was beneath it. Since Peaches was wearing a suit, it was appropriate for her to be dressed up.

When the waitress came for drink orders, Peaches ordered iced tea-Melody obviously wasn’t going to get him drunk-and she ordered a glass of wine. She pondered how to start a conversation.

She decided on an open-ended question. “What do you think about everything that’s been going on?”