Still one more downfield blocker, Dale thought, spotting the third member of the beached boat. There were more on the other boats, but they wouldn’t get there in time. It was just like his senior year when he’d run the ball sixty yards against the Hastings Saxons for the winning touchdown. The strange, immortal feeling he’d had when he played was coming back to him, and he felt more alive than he had in years. His feet must have been digging firmly into the wet sand, yet he could feel no contact with the earth at all, as if his body were being propelled along above the ground by some strange force.