This wave is mine, she thinks as she lies down on her board, turns it in, and points it toward shore. She starts paddling hard, looking once over her shoulder to see the big wave kick up behind her. She lowers her head as she feels the wave pick up the board, then lift it like a splinter, and then She's on top of the world.
She can see it all-the ocean, the beach, the city behind it, the green hills behind the city. She can see the crowd on the beach, see them watching her, see the photogs aiming the big cameras on their tripods. She can see a little boat moving in, photographers on board, getting close enough for shots but staying out of her line. Overhead, a helicopter zooms in and she knows the video guys are up there, ready to get her ride.
If I ride it, she thinks as she gets to her knees, ready to push up into her stance.
Ifhell.
No if about it.
Then she stops thinking.
The time for thought is over; now it has to be all instinct and action.
The nose of the board drops suddenly and she pushes up to her feet, planting them solidly, her calf muscles tensed. Time seems to stop as she's suspended for a second on the top of the wave. She thinks, I'm too late. I missed it. Then The board plunges down.
She leans right, just enough to catch the line, not enough to tip her into the wave and a horrible wipeout. She throws her arms out for balance, bends her knees for speed, and then she's off, down the face of this giant wave, her hair flying behind her like a personal pennant as she turns her feet right a little and cuts up higher into the wave, then plunges back down with incredible speed.
Too much speed.
The board bucks and bounces off the water and she's in the air for a second, the board a good foot beneath her. She lands on it, losing her balance, going sideways, headfirst toward the face of the wave.
The crowd on the beach groans.
It's going to be a bad one.
Sunny feels herself going, her shot getting away from her, and she cranks to the left, squats low, and rights herself as the wave crests over, and then She's in the green room, totally inside the wave. There is nothing else, just her and the wave, her in the wave, her wave, her life.
The watchers on the beach lose sight of her. They're holding their collective breath because all they can see is wave, the incredibly brave chick is in there somewhere, and it's an open question whether she'll come out.
Then a blast of white water shoots sideways out of the tube and the woman shoots out, still on her feet, her left hand touching the back of the wave, and the crowd breaks into a cheer. They're screaming for her, yelling for her as she cuts back up on the top of the wave again.
She's flying now and she uses the momentum to crest the top of the wave.
She's in the air, high over the wave, and as she jumps off the board, she does a full somersault before she hits the water on the far side of the wave. When she pops up, Dave is there on a Jet Ski. She grabs onto the sled, pulls herself on, pulls her board on, and lets him take her in.
The crowd on the beach is waiting for her.
She's mobbed by photographers, writers, surf company execs.
It was the ride of the day, they tell her.
No, she thinks.
It was the ride of a lifetime.
149
It's surreal.
What Johnny sees in the reeds.
Boone Daniels staggers toward him, a girl in his arms, his chest soaked with blood, more blood running down the side of his head.
“Boone!” Johnny yells.
Boone looks at Johnny with glassy-eyed, faint recognition and stumbles toward him, holding the girl out like a drowning man lifting a child up toward a lifeboat. Now Johnny can see Boone's thumb pressed deep into a wound on the child's neck.
Johnny takes the little girl from him, replacing his own thumb for Boone's. Boone looks at him, says, “Thanks, Johnny,” and then crashes heavily, face-first, to the ground.
150
Waves.
Alpha waves, energy-transport phenomena, gentle vibrations run through Boone's jacked-up brain as Rain Sweeny paddles out through a gentle beach break, ducks under an incoming wave, and pops out the other side.
She shakes the water from her blond hair and smiles.
It's a beautiful day, the sky a cloudless blue, the water green as a spring meadow. Crystal Pier sparkles in the shimmering sunlight.
Rain looks up at the pier and waves.
Boone stands at the window of his cottage, smiles, and waves back, and then he's in the water, swimming toward her in smooth, easy strokes, the cool water sliding along his skin, a caress that eases the pain, which is swiftly becoming mere memory, a dream of a past life that seemed real but was only a dream.
Rain reaches out her hand and pulls him to her and then he's sitting on his own board next to her, rising and falling in the gentle swell. The Dawn Patrol sits off behind them, farther out on the shoulder. Sunny and Dave, Hang and Tide and Johnny. Even Cheerful is out this morning, and Pete, and Boone can hear them talking and laughing, and then a wave comes in.
It builds from far away, lifts and rises and rolls as it seems to take an eternity to crest, and then Rain smiles at him again, lies down, and starts to paddle, her arms and shoulders strong and graceful, and she moves into the wave with ease.
Boone paddles after her to catch the wave and ride it with her, all the way in to the beach, except, as he looks ahead, there is no shore, only an endless blue ocean and a wave that rolls forever.
He paddles hard, trying to catch her, desperate to catch her, but he can't. She's too strong, the wave is too fast, and he can make no headway. It makes no sense to him: He's Boone Daniels; there is no wave he cannot catch, but he can't catch this wave, and then he's crying, in rage and frustration, until his chest aches and big salty tears pour down his face to return to the sea and he gives up and lies on his board.
Exhausted, heartbroken.
Rain turns to him and smiles.
Says, This isn't your wave.
Her smile turns to sunshine and she's gone.
Over the break.
151
“Where did you go?” Johnny asks.
“I was just out surfing,” Boone says. “I saw the girl… Did she…”
“She made it,” Johnny says.
Boone smiles and lays his head back on the pillow. The pain in his melon is amazing, an evil combo plate of a
