Rocky Road to Denver

By Alan Cook

Roger McAllister has always been a sensible person living a sensible life, but after his globe-trotting wife is killed in a plane crash in 1984, he wants to get away from his job as an accountant for a while, and agrees to participate in a walk from Los Angeles to Denver as a marketing gimmick for Zeus Shoes.

Roger doesn’t realize that the other participants and the walking conditions (from beach to desert to mountains) will take him out of his comfort zone, and that the walk will produce dizzying highs and sub-basement lows in both altitude and his personal feelings.

The other walkers include a struggling female writer, an under-dressed model who corrects people’s grammar, someone from Roger’s distant past, a lady’s man with a part-time English accent, and a triathlete who appears to have lowered himself to come on the walk.

Then there is their support crew: an alcoholic ex-car-racing mechanic who lives by the stopwatch, and his wife, an overweight but good-hearted nurse who can do everything from bus-driving to cooking to medical care.

The Zeus employees who drop in and out of their lives are an Asian-American marketeer with similarities to Roger’s dead wife, and an African-American photographer who is equally comfortable shooting on the beach or while walking backward on a mountain road in the rain.

Roger will face temptation, hardship, and even peril along the way, but he has been comforted and somewhat conflicted by the difficult-to-explain fact that his dead wife seems to be keeping an eye on him.

In any case, win or lose, finish or fail, there’s no doubt that Roger’s life won’t be the same after this adventure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alan Cook
• Release date: Jan 2, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215639993

Alan Cook

After spending more than a quarter of a century as a pioneer in the computer industry, Alan Cook is well into his second career as a writer.EAST OF THE WALL--Charlie and Liz No. 2Charlie Ebersole and Liz Reid are recruited by the CIA to go into East Germany in June 1963, to attempt to obtain intelligence about a secret project of the Germans during World War II, about which information has been lost. The Berlin Wall and the Stasi (East German secret police) make this a perilous mission, but the two suspect that they are the most appropriate people for the job.TRUST ME IF YOU DARE--Charlie and Liz No. 1Charlie Ebersole is good at his job as a securities analyst for International Industries in Los Angeles in the year 1962, but he is also somewhat bored at being tied to a desk most of the time. He jumps at the chance to join the fraud section of II, and is immediately put on a case that will take him and another employee, Elizabeth Reid, to Buffalo, Fort Lauderdale, and possibly to Fidel Castro’s Cuba, although the Bay of Pigs fiasco is a recent memory, and relations between Cuba and the United States are not good. Charlie and Liz find out that uncovering a Ponzi scheme isn’t all just fun and games, but it can be dangerous too, especially when somebody is intent on them not discovering the truth. Before they are through they may wish they were back at their nice safe desks in Los Angeles.YOUR MOVE--CAROL GOLDEN NO. 7Carol looks for a serial killer who likes to play games. As she attempts to figure out the game and its significance for the killer she realizes that events occurring when she was a college student but are lost to her because of her amnesia may be significant in tracking down the killer. Does the killer want something from her? If so, what? This is becoming too personal for comfort.FOOL ME TWICE--CAROL GOLDEN NO. 6Carol Golden is asked to help Peter Griffenham recover a chunk of money he's lost in a scam, but he doesn't want to go to the police, and by the time she gets involved the prime suspect, a dazzling redhead named Amy, has disappeared along with the money. Or has she? Perhaps that was only the first chapter, to be followed by a much larger scam. Can Carol help prevent chapter two?GOOD TO THE LAST DEATH--CAROL GOLDEN NO. 5When Carol Golden's husband, Rigo, disappears, she not only has to look for him, but elude the FBI at the same time, because there is evidence that she was involved in his disappearance. She doggedly follows a faint trail, keeping her location a secret from everybody except her friend, Jennifer, a spy-in-training, who takes time off from her top-secret job to help Carol.HIT THAT BLOT--CAROL GOLDEN NO. 4The fourth Carol Golden novel takes Carol into the exciting and dangerous world of tournament backgammon. She listens to a caller who calls himself Danny on the crisis hotline Carol volunteers for say he is afraid he'll be murdered. A backgammon player, herself, Carol, disobeys the hotline rules and sets out to find and help Danny. She needs all her experience with spies and detective work to survive this adventure.DANGEROUS WIND--CAROL GOLDEN NO. 3In the third Carol Golden novel, Carol is abducted by a shady government group and required to help find an old boyfriend of hers she doesn't remember (because of her amnesia) who is trying to bring about the "downfall of the western world." She will travel to all seven continents before she can figure out what's going on.RELATIVELY DEAD--CAROL GOLDEN NO. 2Having recovered her identity (lost in FORGET TO REMEMBER) if not her memory, Carol Golden seeks out some of her cousins in the second Carol Golden novel, only to find out they appear to be targeted for murder. While trying to figure out what's going on, Carol encounters the Grandparent Scam and a Ponzi Scheme, and finds out that she may be one of the targets of the murderer.FORGET TO REMEMBER--CAROL GOLDEN NO. 1Carol Golden isn't her real name. She doesn't remember her real name or anything that happened before she was found, naked and unconscious, in a Dumpster on the beautiful Palos Verdes Peninsula in Southern California. After some initial medical assistance, government at all levels declares her a non-person. She can't work because she doesn't have a Social Security number, which she can't get because she doesn't have a birth certificate. She can't even legally drive a car or fly on an airplane. This is the first Carol Golden novel.Alan's Lillian Morgan mysteries, CATCH A FALLING KNIFE and THIRTEEN DIAMONDS, explore the secrets of retirement communities. They feature Lillian, a retired mathematics professor from North Carolina, who is smart, opinionated, and skeptical of authority. She loves to solve puzzles, even when they involve murder.RUN INTO TROUBLESilver Quill Award from American Authors Association and named Best Pacific West Book by Reader Views. Drake and Melody are teamed up to run a race along the California Coast for a prize of a million dollars—in 1969 when a million is worth something. Neither knows the other is in the race before it starts. They once did undercover work together in England, but this information is supposed to be top secret. The nine other pairs of runners entered in the race are world-classmarathoners, including a winner of the Boston Marathon. If this competition isn’t enough, somebody tries to knock Drake out of the race before it begins. But Drake and Melody also receive threats calculated to keep them from dropping out. What’s going on? The stakes increase when startling events produce fatalities and impact the race, leading them to ask whether the Cold War with the USSR is about to heat up.HONEYMOON FOR THREE--GARY BLANCHARD NO. 2Silver Quill Award from American Authors Association and named Best Mountain West Book by Reader Views. Suspense takes a thrill ride. It is 1964, 10 years after Gary Blanchard’s high school adventures in The Hayloft. He and his love, Penny, are going on the trip of their lives, and, oh yes, they’re getting married along the way. What they don’t know is that they’re being stalked by Alfred, a high school classmate of Penny who has a bellybutton fetish. The suspense crackles amid some of the most scenic spots in the western United States, including Lake Tahoe, Reno, Crater Lake, Seattle, and in Glacier, Yellowstone, and Grand Teton National Parks, as well as the redwood trees and rocky cliffs of the northern California coast.THE HAYLOFT--GARY BLANCHARD NO. 1This 1950s mystery, takes us back to bobby sox, slow dancing, bomb shelters—and murder. Within two weeks after starting his senior year of high school in the 1950s, Gary Blanchard finds himself kicked out of one school and attending another—the school where his cousin, Ralph, mysteriously died six months before. Ralph’s death was labeled an accident, but when Gary talks to people about it, he gets suspicious. Did Ralph fall from the auditorium balcony, or was he pushed? Had he found a diamond necklace, talked about by cousins newly arrived from England, that was supposedly stolen from Dutch royalty by a common ancestor and lost for generations? What about the principal with an abnormal liking for boys? And are Ralph’s ex-girlfriends telling everything they know?HOTLINE TO MURDER, his California mystery, takes place at a listening hotline in beautiful Bonita Beach, California. Tony Schmidt and Shahla Lawton don't know what they're getting into when they sign up as volunteer listeners. But when Shahla's best friend is murdered, it's too late for them to back out. They suspect that one of the hotline's inappropriate callers may be the murderer, and they know more about them than the police do.ACES AND KNAVES is a California mystery for gamblers and baseball card collectors. Karl Patterson deals in baseball cards and may be a compulsive gambler, so he's surprised when his father, Richard, CEO of a software company, engages him to check up on the activities of his second in command. It doesn't hurt that Richard assigns his executive assistant, Arrow, an exotic and ambitious young woman, to help Karl, but none of them expects to get involved in murder.PICTURELANDThe second Matthew and Mason adventure finds the boys going into a picture in their family room with the help of Amy, a girl in the picture. The dystopian world they find there with everyone's movements tracked, leads the three to attempt to bring personal freedom to the inhabitants at great risk to themselves.DANCING WITH BULLSIn Alan's first children's book, Matthew and Mason are on vacation on the Greek island of Crete when they are whisked back in time 4,000 to the Minoan civilization at Knossos Palace. Captured, they escape death by becoming bull dancers on a team with other slaves. Beautifully illustrated by Janelle Carbajal.FREEDOM'S LIGHT contains quotations from 38 of history's champions of freedom, from Aristotle to Zlata Filipovic, from George Washington to Martin Luther King, Jr. Included are Jefferson, Adams, Franklin, Anne Frank and many more.Alan splits his time between writing and walking, another passion. His inspirational book,WALKING THE WORLD: MEMORIES AND ADVENTURES, has information and adventure in equal parts. It has been named one of the Top 10 Walking Memoirs and Tales of Long Walks by the walking website, Walking.About.Com.Alan lives with his wife, Bonny, on a hill in Southern California.

Book preview

PART I: CALIFORNIA

CHAPTER 1: WELCOME TO LA

Her walk revealed her as a true goddess.

—Virgil

A question soared relentlessly alongside the airplane Roger McAllister was riding in, blinking on and off like a UFO, and he was trying unsuccessfully to warn the captain when the voice of a flight attendant woke him from his doze.

The captain has turned on the 'Fasten Seatbelt' sign in preparation for our descent into the Los Angeles area. Please return to your seats and be sure your seatbelt is securely fastened. Passengers whose seatbelts are not fastened will be ejected from the aircraft. We will be landing in Los Angeles in about twenty minutes.

Had she said what he thought he had heard? Or was he still asleep? Roger couldn't handle whatever the reality of the situation was so he blotted it from his mind. He had been asleep for the first time since leaving Buffalo early this morning and was feeling spaced out.

Suddenly, the question that had been chasing him in his dream presented itself clearly in front of him, lit in garish neon. The question was, When your idea of physical exercise is a rugged game of Scrabble, why would you ever agree to walk from Los Angeles to Denver?

He didn't have a better answer now than he'd had for the past two months. Try me again in three more months, he told himself, and we'll know whether this was a good idea or a catastrophe

waiting to happen.

He looked at his watch. It was only 9:47 a.m. It felt much later. Of course, it was three hours later in Buffalo. And two in Chicago where he had changed planes. And one in Denver, which the plane had passed over two hours before. And which he hoped to see again in 90 days or less—if his body and his determination held out. That is, if he found some determination. Right now, his determination level was less than zero.

What had possessed him, a man who had taken the same route to work every day for 19 years, complete with a stop for coffee and a doughnut, to fill out the application form he had seen in a newspaper ad by Zeus Footwear, advertising for walkers? He could only attribute it to the mental state he had been in since Sonya, his wife of over 20 years, had died three months ago.

He hadn't dreamed he would be accepted. In answer to the question, What are your qualifications for this walk? he had said, tongue in cheek, I played tennis in high school and still play tennis or racquetball once in a blue moon. In answer to the question, Why do you want to participate in the walk? he had waxed poetic. I have flown over most of the country and driven through a good deal of it, from sea to shining sea. I have seen the purple mountain majesties and the fruited plain, but you can't see much at 600 miles per hour or even 60 miles per hour. Now I want to see them up close and personal.

There was a slight bump and they were on the ground. Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to be the first to welcome you to Los Angeles. The local time is approximately 10:05 a.m. We will be taxiing for a few minutes. Please remain seated until the captain has turned off the 'Fasten Seatbelt' sign. Then you may party.

Irreverent flight attendants he could do without, Roger thought, sourly. How could he get out of this mess and return to the safety of Buffalo? He already missed his comfortable chair in his comfortable office at the small accounting firm of Stern and Kowalchik, where he was a partner. The leave-of-absence he had requested could easily be shortened from several months to two days. They would love to have him back, especially during tax season when they needed all the help they could get.

Glad to have you back, Roger. Glad to see that you've finally come to your senses. We've taken the liberty of scheduling ten appointments a day for you from now until April 15th. And then we’ll start scheduling the late-comers who have asked for extensions.

But would his son, Ray, understand? When the acceptance had come from Zeus he had made the mistake of showing it to Ray, a sophomore at SUNYAB, the State University of New York at Buffalo.

Of course, I'm not going to do it.

Go for it, Dad, Ray had said with youthful energy. You need a change.

They say you shouldn't change your lifestyle for at least six months after losing a...a spouse. It was still hard for him to speak of Sonya, especially to Ray.

This will be good for you. It's not like you're selling the house and sailing off on a yacht. You'll come back and your job will be waiting for you. And you no longer have Grandpa and Grandma to look after.

His mother had died several years before, preceded several years before that by his father. Sonya had always told him what to do because it's good for you. Now it seemed that Ray was taking over this role. But I'll be away from you. And away from civilization a lot of the time.

I'll be fine, Dad. And I'm sure I'll be able to reach you through Zeus if I need you.

Roger's last hope as he hobbled off the plane, his legs cramped from sitting too long, was that there wouldn't be anybody waiting for him here. Then he would be justified in taking the next flight back to Buffalo. He scanned the expectant faces of the people waiting as he came out of the jetway. He didn't know what or who to look for. A sign with his name on it, perhaps?

A tall and beautiful blonde woman dressed in pink warmup pants and a T-shirt caught his eye. He could certainly discount her as a possibility, except in the realm of wishful thinking. His eyes inadvertently strayed to her chest. It took a second before the strategically-located red letters spelling ZEUS, bisected by the yellow lightning-bolt, registered.

Hi, you must be Roger.

It took another second for him to realize that the smile and words were intended for him, even though by now she was almost in his face.

I'm Susan. Let me help you with your bags. He was only carrying two small bags, but she grabbed one and led the way toward the baggage claim area. You've got checked stuff, right?

Yes. Of course, he did. He had been told to pack for 90 days. He glanced at her feet. She was wearing a brand-new pair of white Zeus walking shoes, just as he was. There was no chance of a mistake. Did she work for Zeus?

How did you know who I was? Roger asked, struggling to catch Susan as she knifed through the crowd like a running back.

From the picture on your application.

He'd forgotten about that. Conversation was impossible on the escalator as Susan squeezed to the left side and almost ran down the steps, jostling several standing passengers on the way. Roger tried to follow and noticed that she was getting looks and not just because she was a babe. He wondered where the fire was as he fell behind, not wanting to knock over an old lady.

He thought he'd catch her on the moving walkway, but she took off down the left side of that, as well, past the standees, and it was all he could do to keep her in sight. He finally caught her at the baggage carousel, which was not moving yet.

You can fly when you're wearing Zeus shoes, Roger said, puffing a little.

She smiled. We're late. Earl's going to be pissed. I hope the luggage doesn't take long.

He mentally winced at her language. The plane had only been about ten minutes late. He resisted mentioning that since the baggage wasn't out yet all that rushing had been for nothing.

Who's Earl? He didn't know the players.

He and Ethel are our gallant leaders. They're married. To each other. And he's a tyrant. He likes to keep things right on schedule, down to the second. In fact, when he found out you couldn't get here until this morning, he wanted to eliminate you. But he was overruled by the Zeus people.

Maybe it would have been better if he had been eliminated. Then he could go back to Buffalo. Yesterday, Roger had been doing a few final things to settle Sonya's estate; he hadn't been willing to leave Buffalo with ends still loose. Of course, he was her only heir but it was still amazing what hoops the bureaucracy made you jump through when someone died. He asked, And what's your, er...capacity?

I'm walking, too. She sounded hurt. What, did you think I was too pretty to walk?

Yes, I mean no, of course not. I mean, you're very pretty, but...

She laughed. Forget it. It was a trick question. But don't think I'm an airhead. I was valedictorian of my high school class. Sometimes being beautiful is a curse.

However, she didn't look as if she felt particularly cursed. The carousel started, and amazingly, Roger's two bags were the first ones down the chute. The attendant compared the luggage tags to his claim checks and they were out the door before a line formed. Susan was parked in the nearby metered lot. The white car had ZEUS painted on the side in red letters, bisected by the yellow lightning-bolt. Five minutes after Roger had retrieved his bags they were out of the airport and headed south on Sepulveda Boulevard.

I was sent to get you because I'm the only one from LA, Susan said, as she maneuvered the car through traffic at something above the speed limit, as easily as she had navigated through the airport. They figured I wouldn't get lost. Also, they wanted me to hang around for some final publicity shots with you. The others took off at eight, right on schedule.

Roger tried not to look too frightened at her driving as he hung on to the door grip and made sure his seat belt was tight.

He assumed by the others she meant the other walkers. Trying to be cool, he said, So, are you a model?

Yes. She looked delighted that he had figured it out.

You look like that girl in the... he hesitated, but Sonya wasn't present to hear him, "…in the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue...Christie something."

Christy Brinkley. People are always telling me I look like her.

But you're taking time off to go on this walk.

Zeus is going to do some publicity shots along the way, and they want me for that. Of course, it doesn't pay as well as the other stuff I do, but... She hesitated, then blurted, "I was supposed to do the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, too. My agent and I had it all wrapped up... Her voice trailed off. Then she smiled and said, But you won't find any other model doing anything like this walk, not even Christie."

Roger had never been this close to a real model before. Furtively, he glanced sideways at her T-shirt, trying to figure out something that had been puzzling him about her breasts. They looked too...real. There were no visible straps or bulges of material. It appeared—he was almost certain—that she wasn't wearing a bra. Just like the girls in the sixties. But this wasn't the sixties. This was 1984, the year of George Orwell. What kind of a girl didn't wear a bra these days? He'd better watch out for her.

Besides, wasn't bralessness illegal now? He was quite sure it was illegal in Buffalo. Or at least showing women's nipples was. By the way they were airbrushed from lingerie ads and banned from prime-time television, you'd think nipples were obscene and not just baby-feeders. He jumped when she spoke, as if she could read his thoughts.

It would speed things up if you had your walking clothes on by the time we got there. Which suitcase are they in?

Susan pulled over to the curb so quickly that Roger lost his breath. He hadn't thought much about his walking wardrobe. He didn't have a chic warmup suit like the one of which Susan was wearing the pants.

I recommend shorts, Susan said, as she pulled the trunk release. Long pants are only good for the early morning chill.

Roger realized that the day would soon be warm enough for shorts, even though it was only the first of April. Luckily, he had brought a pair with him, even though during his three weeks of training in still cold Buffalo, wearing shorts had been the furthest thing from his mind.

Susan opened the trunk and he found the pair of shorts and a Zeus T-shirt, compliments of Zeus, in one of the suitcases.

Where can I change?

In the car.

Susan jumped back into the driver's seat. Roger followed, slowly; she impatiently gunned the engine. As she accelerated away from the curb he said, Maybe I should get in the back.

There's more room in the front. Don't worry about me. I'm used to seeing lots of skin. And you should see the places where I've had to change. I'll tell you about them sometime.

Roger was worried about her. He had never changed clothes in any car before, not to mention one in which he was sitting next to a beautiful woman. And what about the prying eyes he imagined he saw in the other cars? He felt trapped. He hadn't dreamed of doing anything like this. He should have remembered what Los Angeles was like: loose loose loose.

He started at the top. He took off his shirt and then his T-shirt, replacing it with the Zeus T-shirt and the red-lettered ZEUS, ubiquitous yellow lightning-bolt and all. It did make him feel more official, but that was the easy part.

With a glance at Susan he unbuckled his belt and tried to unzip his fly without making any noise. Then he made a critical mistake. He tried to take off his pants without first removing his shoes. When the pant-legs wouldn't go over the shoes he pulled the top of the pants over the shoes until they were completely wrong-side-out. Now he was in his briefs with his legs up in the air, frantically trying to pull his pant-legs over his shoes; they wouldn't budge. His face was hot and his heart was racing. Sweat trickled down his armpits. The more he tugged the more stuck they became. A horn honked beside him. He was sure Susan was laughing at him, but he didn't dare look at her.

Try taking your shoes off, she said, nonchalantly.

He wished he were in Buffalo, or better yet on Bora Bora. He would never be able to face her again. Finally, he pulled the pants back up far enough so that he could take off his shoes. Hastily, he took off his pants and pulled on his multi-pocketed shorts, trying to look graceful, but it was too late. Susan already knew he was a clod. And it was a good thing Sonya wasn't here.

They were now on the road overlooking Redondo Beach. Roger turned his head to the right to avoid Susan's eyes and saw the Pacific Ocean for the first time in several years. He could make out a school of surfers floating easily on the swells, waiting for the perfect wave. Their black wet-suits made them look like seals. The water must be cold at this season.

Susan pulled the car up to a parking meter and announced, Here we are.

CHAPTER 2: ON THE BEACH

So come to the shore of which we boast

and walk with me on the sunset coast.

—Alan Cook

As Roger got out of the car two people were already rapidly converging on it. In the lead was a small, thin man with a baked-in tan, a fuzz of disappearing white hair, and permanent frown creases in his forehead, wearing a Zeus T-shirt and a pair of old pants with visible grease stains. He said to Susan, You're late.

She smiled sweetly at him and said, The plane was late. Earl, this is Roger. Roger, this is Earl, our gallant leader.

Shaking Earl's hand reminded Roger of holding a dead fish. Roger said, Glad to meet you, but Earl was speaking over his shoulder to the woman behind him, saying, All right, let's get this show on the road.

The woman he was talking to must be in her thirties, judging from the parts of her barely lined face not hidden by her dark glasses. She also wore a Zeus T-shirt and Zeus shoes, with a pair of Bermuda shorts in between. Her dark hair was shorter than Susan's long tresses, and she looked vaguely Asian. Her body was also shorter than Susan's and not as slim, but then nobody was as slim as a model.

Without waiting to be introduced she shoved out her hand to Roger and said, Mitzi Murakawa, Special Marketing Promotions for Zeus.

Her handshake was much firmer than Earl's. She looked like a marketing person, perfectly groomed and dressed appropriately, if conservatively. With a pang, Roger thought of Sonya who had also been in marketing; she had been vice president of marketing for an international electronics firm. She had flown all over the world and stayed in plush hotels until the day she had taken a short flight on a local airline somewhere in the heart of Indonesia, a place he couldn't even find on a map, and the plane had crashed...

We want to get some shots of you starting out, Mitzi was saying to him. I see you're already in uniform. Good. Let's go down by the water since that's your official starting point. This is Tom, my photographer.

Tom was as tall and black as many basketball players, and as slender as a soda straw. He waved at Roger and then led the way down the concrete ramp to the beach, carrying a large reflective disk and a bag full of other equipment. Mitzi followed him, then Susan and Roger. Earl trailed behind, complaining about the time they were taking. Roger noticed that none of the others paid the slightest bit of attention to him.

Tom was a professional. He took his time picking a location to shoot at on the wide sandy beach. Mitzi wanted to get the hill of Palos Verdes Peninsula in the background. The morning fog had burned off and Roger could see the expensive homes, standing in lines along the side of the hill, wearing their red tile roofs, like the obedient, uniformed school children standing in line and wearing red caps he had seen in Japan. On a trip with Sonya. Or like homes in villages on the Mediterranean he had been to—with Sonya.

He began to feel self-conscious when it was time for him to pose. Mitzi held the reflector, which focused the morning sun directly into his eyes. He blinked and had trouble keeping his eyes open. Tom took a couple of shots of Roger bending over and testing the water.

Give us a smile, Tom said. I checked my calendar. The world's not coming to an end today. Roger's face felt frozen, and he didn't know whether his expression bore any relationship to a smile. After a few more shots Tom said, Okay, Susan, get in there with Roger and help the poor guy relax.

Roger had mixed feelings about posing with Susan. Beauty and the clod. But Susan had obviously never met a camera she didn't like.

Take it easy, Rog, she said. The camera won't bite you.

The shooting went better with Susan beside him, and Roger was actually able to crack a genuine smile.

Tom said, Susan, get out of those pants and show us what the audience is paying to see.

With exaggerated movements Susan took off her warmup pants. Underneath she wore short—very short—shorts. There was no question that she had the body of a model: long legs, tiny waist, and a well-defined chest. She knotted her Zeus T-shirt above her waist to pull it tight across her breasts, and two points stuck out through the cloth. Roger began to think thoughts he hadn't thought in three months.

A small crowd of morning walkers and joggers gathered as Tom started shooting again. At least, they're not looking at me, Roger thought. It was just as well. He felt like a fossil standing next to Susan.

Act as if you two know each other, Tom said to them.

That involved touching bare skin as they put their arms around each other. After the initial shock, Roger found he liked it, even though he knew he shouldn't. He was relieved when Tom and Mitzi decided they had enough shots. He asked Mitzi what they would do with them.

We'll use them for publicity, she said. Send them to the local newspapers. We may use the best ones in our advertising campaign. That’s why you signed the photo release. Ordinary people walking from Los Angeles to Denver in Zeus shoes. If Zeus shoes can make superwalkers out of them they can make superwalkers out of you, too. She indicated the spectators with a wave of her hand; they gave a ragged cheer. Our slogan is, 'Let loose with Zeus.' She handed out coupons to the crowd, good for a discount on a pair of Zeus shoes.

Ordinary people. He was ordinary, Roger thought. But Susan was a supermodel...well, maybe not quite, but at least a mini-supermodel. She was far from ordinary. He wondered about the rest of the walkers. He recalled that the contract he had signed said that he would receive a royalty if any shots of him were used in paid advertising. Fat chance of that.

He obviously wasn't doing this for the money because, except for expense money, T-shirts and several pairs of shoes, he wasn't being paid anything, just being given board, room, and transportation. And most of the transportation was being provided by his own feet. And room for much of the trip was going to be a converted bus.

Let's get going, Earl said. He had been digging a furrow into the sand with his nervous pacing back and forth during the shooting. It's past noon already.

Roger suddenly remembered that he still had to walk ten miles today. It was an oppressive thought. He felt jet-lagged and hungry. He said to Earl, I'm starving. I didn't get much to eat on the plane. I can't walk on an empty stomach.

Sweet Jesus, Earl said under his breath but loud enough for Roger to hear him. I've got a troop of prima donnas to babysit. We're never going to get to Denver.

CHAPTER 3: BLISTERS

Can two walk together, except they be agreed?

—The Bible; Amos 3:3

Hawthorne, Crenshaw, Western, Vermont, Figueroa, Wilmington, Avalon, Alameda. Boulevards, avenues, and streets with names familiar to Roger flashed by—well, went slowly by. For example, he knew that Western Avenue was the longest street completely within the city limits of Los Angeles, running south from Griffith Park to the coast. They also passed the home—now a museum—of General Phineas Banning, who had been instrumental in building the Port of Los Angeles.

Roger and Susan were walking along Pacific Coast Highway, which Earl had assured Roger ran east and west at this point, rather than its stated north and south. Since they had to go east and north to get to Denver, Roger hoped this was true. His navigational skills, which consisted of trying to figure out where the sun should be in relation to them, told him as it played peekaboo with the clouds, that the first three miles or so they had probably gone southeast, but that they were now heading almost due east.

This was not the scenic route, which would have been along the coast, but the route that proved Los Angeles was a bustling center of international trade. It featured train yards, truck terminals, containers of goods bound for the freighters in the nearby twin harbors of Los Angeles and Long Beach. An oil refinery. The area wasn't pretty but it was robust. Off to the right the clean, new buildings of downtown Long Beach, most of which Roger had never seen before, were silhouetted against the sky. Long Beach had been revitalized.

The biggest problem with today's route was the traffic lights. They occurred every few minutes along some stretches, and slowed the walkers down. Not that Roger felt like going faster. He was tired and actually hot, although the temperature wasn't much above 70. This was a problem he had not had in Buffalo during his three weeks of fairly intense training. March in Buffalo was a lot of things, but it wasn't hot.

Earl was starting them off easy. As they got into shape they would walk progressively more miles each day. But by Roger's estimate they had already covered about twelve of the ten miles Earl said they would be walking today. So much for Earl's calculations. It was getting on toward six o'clock and darkness. Nine o'clock in Buffalo. Roger had been looking in vain for their motel for the past half-hour.

My feet hurt, Susan announced. I don't know how much farther I can go.

Did you break your shoes in? Roger asked. He, himself, had tried to break in all three pairs of shoes that Zeus had provided him by wearing them for a number of slow miles, because he suspected that feet were the key to distance walking.

Susan looked uncertain. She said, This is the first time I've worn these.

So far, walking with Susan had gone better than he had feared it would. He had been afraid she would tease him about his pants problem, but she hadn't mentioned them. He was secretly grateful she hadn't said anything while they were with the others, but he was still too embarrassed about the incident to tell her that.

He had been afraid that she would attract an inordinate amount of attention, but he discovered that her dress wasn't outlandish for LA, except that he didn't see any other braless women. Her looks would always get some stares, but she had assured him she was used to that, and he stopped paying attention to the starers after a while.

She also kept up a steady stream of talk, and not just inane chatter. She was bright, just as she had said. Roger was relieved, because he was an introverted accountant and didn't make new friends easily. And he would have a number of new friends on this trip. At least, he hoped they would be friends. He wanted to get along with Susan, even though he didn't quite approve of what he suspected was her lifestyle.

Do you want me to look at your feet? Roger asked. I've got some first-aid stuff in my fanny pack. Their fanny packs, a logical invention Roger had never seen before, were provided, courtesy of Zeus. Roger had brought some moleskin and other first-aid items with him from Buffalo.

Susan sat down on the bridge over the Los Angeles River, which was flowing sluggishly toward the nearby sea in its concrete bed. At least, it was supposed to be flowing toward the sea. At the moment a southerly wind made the small ripples appear to be flowing upstream. She took off her shoes and double-thickness socks, also supplied by Zeus. She had painted her toenails a bright red, in spite of the fact that they had not been visible until now.

Roger sat down awkwardly on the concrete sidewalk. He was stiff and very tired. He hesitantly took one of Susan's feet in his hands. A foot fetishist he wasn't. And any thrill he might have felt was quickly replaced by mild revulsion when he saw a blister the size of a half-dollar on the bottom of her foot. The other foot looked much the same. Her body wasn't perfect, after all.

How the hell was she going to walk on these? I'll put some moleskin on them to cushion them, Roger said, but they need to be looked at by a medical person.

They hurt, Susan whined. I'm not going to make it to the motel. And I don't want Ethel treating me.

Is Ethel a nurse? He wondered if Earl's wife was grumpy like Earl.

She's the nurse and the cook. But she looks more like a horse doctor than a nurse.

Roger cut squares of moleskin with small scissors and put one on each of Susan's blisters. When she tried to walk she limped a little at first, but by the time they got off the bridge she was walking more easily. Roger felt relieved when she gave him one of her patented smiles.

That did the trick, she said. Where did you learn how to play doctor? She made playing doctor sound a lot more exciting than it had actually been.

As a young man in the Orient I learned a lot about the mysteries of life, including how to cloud men's minds so they can't see me. I'm really 'The Shadow.' Of course, she would have no idea who The Shadow was, a character from an old radio show.

Thanks for the warning. She hit him playfully.

But you still have to get your feet looked at. The moleskin is only a temporary solution. If she dropped out, Roger was surprised to find that his own motivation level would plummet back to ground zero, where it had been when he stepped off the plane this morning.

The company of Earl was not an agreeable alternative. He liked Mitzi and Tom well enough, but they had split right after lunch, and, as Roger understood, would only swoop down on the caravan occasionally to take pictures and find out how things were going. The rest of the time he and the other walkers were on their own, with only Earl and Ethel to help them.

***

As it turned out,