As Thom fell, he scrabbled for anything he could snag, catching the runner at the base of the rails. It was slick with mist and his grasp pulled loose. But it had slowed him enough to get a hold of the cement edge. He dangled, breathing hard. He was facing inland. The underside of the pier was a web of metal struts and wooden beams. He reached out and grabbed a metal pole. Paint flakes and rust dug into his palm. Footsteps scraped across the pier. He toed for a foothold, then let go of the cement with his other hand. He swayed into space, wheeling his arm. It banged into another pole. He twisted his wrist and grabbed tight, arresting his momentum.The footsteps stopped. The aquarium door squeaked inquisitively, then closed with a disappointed peep. For some time, the only thing Thom could hear was the surf washing against the pilings. The door squeaked again. Multiple sets of shoes tromped around the side of the building, coming to a stop at the edge of the pier."Mission accomplished." The voice was gruff, older.
