The Relic Runner Origin Story Box Set by Ernest Dempsey (non fiction books to read TXT) 📕

the board would have lurched forward, but he had loosened his grip slightly and let the cord slide through as he hit the ground with a bump.

"Well, you were," Will offered.

Dak had at least five smart-aleck responses he wanted to use, but he kept them all to himself. The look back told him he was less than ten feet from the wet sand where the tide pushed against land.

With renewed energy, he started to pull again. This time faster. The clock in his head ticked down the seconds and he knew they didn't have long. After six steps, he felt the cool water of the ocean lap against his left heel, then his right. Within two heavy breaths, his ankles were covered in salt water and his toes dug into the submerged sand.

When the nose of the board touched the water, Dak dropped the cord and maneuvered to the back. Will kept his feet out wide for balance.

Dak reached the rear of the board and got down on his hands and knees. He ripped off the duct tape from the rear wheels, then the front. "Put your feet down and slowly inch your way into the water," he ordered. "I'll keep you steady from the rear."

"I don't like the way that sounds," Will quipped nervously.

"Glad you can keep your sense of humor at a time like this," Dak replied. "Okay, together. Here we go."

He carefully nudged the chair forward, rolling it on the surface of the board until it reached the tip. Will guided it with his feet under the shallow water.

Dak spun the chair around with the greatest of caution so that Will faced the shore.

"Going in backward, okay?" Dak asked.

"Do I have a choice?"

"Not really. These caster wheels won't roll very well in the sand. So, I'm going to have to drag you."

"Dak..." Will faltered.

"Don't even try to give me some sob speech about how I don't have to die and how I've done enough. Just save it."

Dak pulled before Will could counter. The water rose up to the back of Dak's knees, slapping against his jeans. He kept his muscles tight as he pulled the chair, plowing the wheels into the sandy beach beneath. Every step brought Will several inches deeper until half the cylinder holding the seat was submerged.

"Almost there," Dak said over the sound of a crashing wave. The surge of water hit him in the back. He could have been knocked forward by the powerful liquid wall, but he braced his right leg at the last second and steadied his arms to keep Will from moving too much. Dak's body broke a portion of the wave, but not all. Will was struck by some of the water and felt his torso lurch toward the shore. He squeezed the seat with every last ounce of strength. His forearms tightened, and he thought he might be dethroned a split second before he was consumed in fire.

Then the wave passed, dying out as it reached the shore.

Will slumped back in the seat, momentarily relieved.

Dak smashed that relief with a sledgehammer. "We're going to have to time this just right!" He yelled over the ocean. "We need to get between the waves to get this deep enough!" He pointed at the chair, noting the cylinder was almost there.

"Okay!" Will shouted back. "When are we going?"

"Now!"

"What?"

Five

Nazaré

Dak strained against the weight of the chair as it protested his efforts. The water and sand made moving the thing all but impossible. But as he plunged deeper into the sea, the task eased with every step.

"Hold on!" Dak shouted above the sound of the waves.

"Do you really think you need to tell me that?" Will yelled back.

He clung to the seat beneath him. The water was nearly up to his knees now, and both men knew that if this harebrained plan was going to work, it would have to be soon.

Dak looked back over his shoulder and saw the next wave building. The water beneath him sucked back out to sea, lowering enough that more than a third of the piston's cylinder remained exposed. The oncoming wave continued to rise, swelling higher and higher until it dwarfed him by three feet.

In less than ten seconds, the wave would be on them, and this time there was no way Dak could keep Will from being blown off the chair.

Knowing it was now or never, Dak pulled through the fire in his arms and legs. His fingers almost felt numb, like the first time he'd been put through a marathon round of pull-ups. They remained curled, almost gnarled, on their own, as if he'd lost all control. Now, though, Dak kept control through it all, dragging his friend deeper into the sea.

Will looked back and saw the incoming wave. To the man in the office chair, it may as well have been a tsunami.

"Dak," Will said, elongating the name.

"I know, Will. Just… another… few feet." Dak gave one last, hard pull.

The chair dragged through the water, its wheels plowing into the sand until suddenly, the weight lightened. The chair felt lighter, and Dak realized the seat was causing the chair to float.

Two seconds before the wave smashed into them, Dak shouted, "Now, Will! Jump!"

Will slid forward, planted his feet in the sand beneath the churning water, and leaped as far as he could.

The last thing Dak saw before the wave slammed into his back was the completely submerged cylinder as it drew back into the wave to join the liquid wall as it charged toward the shore.

Dak's limbs went limp. He exhaled and then sucked in one long breath before his world was swallowed by saltwater.

Everything around him swirled and twisted. He felt invisible forces tugging at him from multiple angles—the strongest of which pulled him away from the bending, shimmering light above. On a normal day, Dak could easily hold his breath for ninety seconds. After the exertion of dragging his friend across the sand and into the ocean, however, he'd be lucky if