Stephen Cannell - The Pallbearers

Evervone knelt quietly, trying to think of what to tell her. Nobody could come up with anything, so nobody spoke.

Diamond cleared her throat and continued. "Jack and I made a pact. We're gonna both turn ourselves in. We're doing it in Walt's memory because that's what he would have wanted. We're gonna do the right thing for him and ourselves. We've decided to take whatever comes."

After a minute, Sabas said, "If you want, I'll take your cases at no charge." Then he turned to Diamond. "I think if you agree to testify, I can plead you down to a lesser charge. Shane and Alexa can testify to what Jack did on that reservation and that should mitigate those two bank stickups. Nobody is gonna work harder for you than we will."

"We'd like that," Jack said, answering for both of them. "But we're not looking for deals, we're just looking to get straight with ourselves."

"I never thought we'd see you guys again," Seriana said, giving us her rare but beautiful smile.

"Yeah, surprised the shit outta me too." Jack grinned.

As we knelt on the beach, we slowly began to realize that we had won. This was victory. It was a victory with consequences, but it was a victory nonetheless.

The sun began to peek over the horizon. Tomorrow had finally come.

"Let's go rhino chasing, bruddahs," Sabas said, echoing Pop's standard predawn challenge.

We gathered up the bags of flowers and the urn with Walt's ashes and trotted toward the meager three-foot surf while Alexa and Hang Six watched from the shore.

In the water, everyone laid flat and began to paddle out. Vicki had the urn balanced on the nose of her board, and the rest of us carried the flowers. I hadn't been out in years, and the board felt unstable beneath me.

When we were beyond the surf line we sat up, warming ourselves in the early morning sun. Then we got ready to spread Walt's ashes.

"I guess now is just as good a time as any," I said.

Vicki handed the urn to Diamond, who held it for a moment, whispering something to Walt inside. Then she passed it to Seriana, who did the same. Each of the pallbearers in turn cradled Walt's ashes for a minute to say a silent good-bye. When the urn was finally in my hands all I could think of to tell him was "I'm sorry I never thanked you."

We poured the ashes into the sea and scattered the flowers around them.

The waves lifted us slowly up and down as the rhythm of the tide began to spread the last remains of the only man who had been there for us as children when nobody else had cared.

I sat on my board, feeling for the first time like I had actually paid my debt. We all had. I wondered if I was mellow enough for a fish to come up and nibble my toes. None did.

"Son of a bitch, look at this," Sabas said.

We all glanced back over our shoulders and saw a beautiful five-foot wave coming toward us. It was formed in a perfect crescent shape. A rhino. The kind of wave Pop always waited for. The swell was moving toward us, a rolling green gift from the center of the sea.

We proned out on our boards and started paddling hard. My broken, aching arm was completely forgotten as I hurried to catch the swell. The wave passed under us and lifted us high above the beach. Then we all stood to shoot the curl.

It was a perfect party wave, and all six of us were on it.

Halfway down the face, I felt Walt drop into the pocket beside me. I couldn't see him, but I knew he was over there, crouched down low, shuffling up on the nose Quasimodo style, riding that big, heavy cigar box.

We all stayed like that, shoulder to shoulder, shooting out of the green room and into the chop. All six of Pops pallbearers escorting him back into shore.