Michael: The Mark (Airel Saga Book Four)

Chapter VII

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MY FEET HIT BOTTOM. A wave rolled over me, toppling me forward. I had to give one last burst. Come on, Airel, you can finish. Push it. I did. With a few more strokes, I was in the shallows and the surf was receding. I made a clumsy, exhausted run for it to avoid the next incoming wave, stumbling up onto the beach until the waves could only kiss my ankles.

I was breathing very hard. I was completely spent. I sat down on the beach in my underwear in the darkness and rested for a moment. I couldn't believe I had done it. Now I could concentrate on trying to get some help. And some freaking clothes? I was glad it was dark.

Judging by the state of activity around me, I figured it was well after midnight. The witching hour. When all the freaks were out.

I looked around me, trying to figure out where I was. I was on a beach that was studded with massive rocks and boulders. There was all kinds of activity going on, little shapes darting here, there and everywhere. Penguins. Okay. That's weird. Penguins? Really? They were kind of cute, though. Little black-and-white waddlers. I had to smile, even though I was just about as naked as they were.

How am I going to find clothes? At least before I went off walking down the street shouting for help, I needed to cover myself.

She spoke up. "Bertha's."

I sighed. I shook my head and stood up, trying to dust as much wet sand off my butt as possible. I had to play the game. Take what I could get and watch my attitude. That was all. I looked around me. There were some buildings standing off a ways. Some of them looked like hotels, others like private houses. In the other direction, there were some huge docks poking out into the water with a big Navy boat parked at one of them. Parked? I guess a Navy guy wouldn't say "parked," but that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

I decided to start walking. Away from the Navy guys and their battleship or whatever. Perhaps I could use their help after I found clothes, but not before that. Perhaps I would find something at Bertha's like She had said, which, I assumed, was a clothing store with an open window or something. Trying to understand She was a monumental task sometimes, but I was glad for what little info I got.

After I walked up the beach a little way, past a sign that read Simon's Town, I saw a big, long canary-yellow building with gabled green roofs pitched over its windows. It looked like a resort, so I thought it was a good place to start. I kept walking until I saw the sign hanging out over the boardwalk: Bertha's.

"Sweet." I said, breaking into a run. I tried to keep away from the pools of light made necessary by civilization, but it was not easy. The closer I got to the hotel, the harder it became.

Finally I ducked into a little nook in the wall made by the shape of the building. I was wet, covered in grimy seawater, and a little desperate. I racked my brain, trying to think over what I was going to do. I was at Bertha's; I had made it that far. Now what?

My hand brushed the corner of the wall as I peeked out from my not-quite-dark-enough hiding place. I scanned the area for clues. And then I saw something. Not far off, draped over the fence that surrounded a large pool area, were some towels and what looked like some clothes someone had set out to dry.

Come on ... be something I can use.

I ran to the fence and looked through the stuff. I didn't hear anyone shout anything at me; it didn't seem like anyone was out at this late hour as I glanced around. I just focused on the clothes.

A towel, another towel, some cargo shorts ... I rummaged like mad. "Yes," I said a little too loudly. I had found a white button-up top. Sure, it was a little too big, but for crying out loud, it would work for now and that was all I cared about. I quickly shrugged into it and then, grabbing the cargo shorts, barefooted my way back to my little cubbyhole. I buttoned up the shirt—it was way bigger than I had originally thought, but a quick knot in the bottom hem fixed that problem.

I crossed my fingers as I pulled on the cargo pants.

I giggled. They were about a foot too long and just as wide. I pulled the drawstring as tight as I could and cuffed them up to my knees. I looked like a refugee, but I was thankful at least for clothes to wear.

A burst of laughter shot out over the boardwalk, knifing through the night. It spooked me, but I realized it was just a bunch of people partying into the wee hours of the morning in their room, the balcony door wide open. They hadn't seen me.

I turned up the path toward the café, trying to act like I belonged there.

My hair felt slimy and gross, but I was once again a girl. It felt awesome.

Now to find help.

I stumbled a little; my head was spinning. My stomach growled. Okay, first things first. I desperately need something to eat. "All right, She. Whatchagot?"