“Hey, you ok? We thought we might’ve lost you there?” Rachel asked, holding Michael’s seatbelt to his chest to keep him in place as best she could while driving. Celeste had her hands on both sides of his head to keep his neck stable through sharp turns.

“Huh?” Michael’s eyes worked their way into focus.

“Sorry, you knocked your head on the Jeep somehow and passed out, I guess.” Rachel said shyly but loud enough to be heard over the roaring engine.

Celeste groaned as she let go of his head and settled back into her seat. “You got all flopsy.”

The red Jeep revealed ribbons of mud while the sounds of gunfire from inside the walls of the base punctuated their erratic escape. Michael had barely buckled when his head was jerked back into the headrest. Grabbing the “oh shit'' handle above his window, he had traded one bumpy ride for another and expected the hits to keep on coming.

“This is all-“ Michael’s head bumped on his window as he spoke during a rough left turn. “This is all unexpected.”

Rachel shifted up into third as she ran over a bush with reckless abandon. “Yeah, you weren’t part of the plan at all.”

“The plan?” Michael gripped his seat with his left hand. “What plan?”

“The plan to disrupt operations on the Purple Bitches’ base!” Celeste replied with vigor.

Still not grasping what was going on, “What the fuck was the plan?”

“It’s easy enough to smuggle in guns when they’ve got a Human-owned bus charter scheduled to cart off the Purp Lovers every weekend.” Rachel said before taking another random, hard turn.

“Why are we driving like this?” Michael was not used to Rachel driving like this. Or really at all. The last time he’d let Rachel drive was when he was too sick to drive back from Mississippi. He couldn’t remember how she had driven then. It certainly wasn’t like this.

Rachel explained as best she could while steering off of and onto the road. “The Shil’way can read where cars are going based on the pressure changes on the surface of the road. Theoretically, they can only report that accurately if the pressure is constant.” She pulled another hard turn and went over the Shil’way coming from a new part of the road. “So if we enter and exit at different angles like this, the whole system goes out.”

Michael imagined the map the Shil’way covered. How did they keep up with all the cars that go on their roadway? Makes sense, he shrugged, “But how do you know it will work?”

“Won’t know until we try.” Celeste chimed in from the back seat.

“How do you know this? How did you know to try? Why are you trying? I have so many questions!” Michael twisted around in his seat to look at his fellow passengers for a second before the Jeep jerked in another direction. “And how far are we from getting off of the Shil’way!?”

“Our plan was to go the furthest we could on their grid to try to knock out as much of the system as we can.” Rachel flashed Michael a sarcastic, sorry not sorry smile. The smile straightened out into a blank face with an eye roll. She turned back out toward the windshield and jerked the wheel again. “Fourteen miles.”

God, that look, that same look I fell in love with...fuck. Michael blushed; out of shame for leaving her, out of embarrassment for feeling those same old feelings again. You made a decision, you measured the pros and cons, you knew what you were signing up for. There’s no turning back now.

Now that he’d settled his brain down a bit he decided to let the dice fall where they may. “Well, then maybe you should pay attention to the road and I’ll catch up when we get to...wherever it is we’re going.”

“Good call.” Celeste and Rachel were like stereo to Michael.

This wasn’t what Michael had signed up for this morning, but it’s what happened anyway. He thought about that for the entire fourteen miles. Fuck, maybe that wasn’t what they signed up for...

Once they got on paved roads, the Jeep was steadied and sped up. The “good” news, if it could be considered as such, was that Michael didn’t feel like he needed to throw up. Unfortunately, that was because he had nothing to throw up. He was sea sick and could have evacuated the other end. Alcohol and garlic fries had left their status perks behind long ago. Now it was time for him to pay the gastrointestinal price for his merrymaking. Being treated like a maraca had not helped.

Their trip ended soon after an unfortunate amount of sharp turns and diversions. Couldn’t be too careful when rebelling against a superior force, Celeste had answered when Michael whined about the length of time it was taking them to arrive at their destination.

Rachel came to a stop behind an elementary school on the far west side of Jacksonville. Michael clamored out of the Jeep pulling his pants up as he went. He expected to open the door, find signage for the bathrooms and get to business.

“Hello!” someone said too happily as they opened the door.

“Amber?” Michael stopped in his tracks.

Amber, clad in bicycle shorts and a loose camouflage top, held the door and her arms wide for him.

His steps stuttered before embracing her. Asking her where the bathroom was in the process.

“Oh sure, there’s signs down the hall.” She answered after a brief but illuminating sniff of him.

He speed walked down the hall, rolling his eyes at his fortune. The devil you know is better than the devil you don’t, he recalled with a sigh.

Upon entering the bathroom, he remembered in horror that it was an elementary school. The sinks were not quite to his hip height, excluding the stair step down one intended for the smaller boys which was even shorter. The urinals came up to his knees. He dreaded what he’d see in the stall.

There it was. A potty he would have to squat to get down to use.

After the sweet relief hit, Michael found himself having to kneel down and crawl out of the bathroom stall before getting up and putting his pants back on. His dead phone slid out of his pocket and clattered to the floor. He cursed its uselessness.

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Using the tallest of sinks, he found himself leaning his head forward almost into the mirror. Hands washed, he splashed some water on his face. What have I gotten myself into now? He grumbled internally, glancing at the sad sack in the mirror in front of him.

He stepped back out into the hall and back to where he assumed the women had gathered. On his way he saw a classroom that had the barest indicators of plans on the whiteboard: squares around squares, a rectangle with arrows pointing outwards to squares, stick guns with arrows pointing under uppercase Ls with legs on the bottom.

Making his way to where the ladies had assembled, he took a deep breath and entered.

The way they had arranged themselves was a juxtaposition of how things should be in his mind. They wore different degrees of camouflage, but it was a common denominator. Celeste had camo capris, a camo tank, camo face paint and a camo bandana bundling her hair. Rachel had on black pants, a camo sleeveless shirt and dark face paint under her eyes. Amber’s brown bicycle pants and frilly camo top made their wardrobe coordinate. However, given that they had recently infiltrated an alien base, their lounging in and around the teacher’s desk of the classroom seemed odd.

Come to the coast, we’ll have a few laughs, Michael chuckled slightly.

“Hey Mikey, long time no see!” Amber said flirtatiously.

“Yeah. Hey.” He leaned into the ‘hey’ a little awkwardly as he looked at Rachel and Celeste. “Thank you all for saving me from...whatever was going on at the base.” Transitioning awkwardly, “It was my first time, uh, on the base.” He tried to look cool by sitting on the top of a kid’s table. It creaked loudly. He stood back up with a decidedly fake casual laugh.

“Yeah, that was unexpected.” Amber replied, “And unfortunate.” Her mood flattened. “You threw a wrench in the works we had going, Mike. Rachel radioed that you were about to get on the bus, that’s when I knew that things were going to go off the rails.”

Rachel quickly replied, “I had him in my sights and I was about to give Celeste the go ahead to signal the guys to go, but there Michael was--still talking to some Purple Bitch.”

“What was the plan again?” Michael interrupted.

“She was in the middle of telling you what happened, asshole.” Amber interjected then smiled disapprovingly.

Michael blinked at her and looked at the floor shyly.

“Look, I know we’re not together anymore, Mike, and your business is your business; even if it includes spending the night with the Purple Bitches.” Rachel lifted one hand as if she was weighing her options. Then lifted the other, “But when I saw her put her arms on your shoulders...and then you wrenched them off of you.”

Michael lifted his hand as if to interrupt again but was shot down by Amber's eye daggers.

“Well, we were about to go to town on them anyway, so I went ahead and took the shot.”

“Where the hell were you?” Michael asked impatiently.

“On the Buckman.” Amber and Rachel answered simultaneously.

“And I had a partition under the bus. I rolled out to the bushes so I could signal the bus driver when the coast was clear.” Celeste added.

Michael did some mental math and tried to recreate the setup in his mind. The bridge and the base were closer than he’d imagined, but it was still pretty far. Michael had no practical experience shooting. He’d been to the gun range, but that wasn’t rifles, it was pistols.

What he did have practical experience in was pool...billiards, if you’re feeling fancy. Given how much harder it was to hit a ball when it was across the table, sighting up a target, firing and cutting the neck off of a body has got to be a skill that would take a lot of practice.

He turned to Rachel. “How long have you been sniping?”

Her face stiffened. “My dad taught me how to shoot when I was growing up. Remember the foothills of Pennsylvania are the same Appalachia where you were raised.” Clarification stated, she continued, “After the invasion, survival skills seemed to be necessary. We all gathered together to communicate what we knew and who we could contact to figure out what to do next.”

“My brothers had gotten with some of their friends on the force and their military buds from what was left of Miami. We scrambled for guns and supplies on their recommendation.” Amber included.

Celeste bunched her face up angrily, “When the invaders were revealed to be sexy space babes who seemed to be out to steal our men...well, we had to take action.”

“Then we got word that these Purple Bitches were aggressive, as it were, it became much easier to recruit some boys to our cause.” Amber settled into the teacher’s chair.

Michael couldn’t disagree. He was still compartmentalizing his experience with Gwen. He must have hid it poorly because Rachel came to his side.

Genuinely concerned, Rachel asked, “Oh no. Did they hurt you?” She almost touched him, but at the last second she stopped herself.

Michael wasn’t sure what to say. They did, but it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about with Rachel or Amber for that matter. The dissonance his feelings caused him left him speechless.

“Oh, you going to fix him and make it better?” Amber mocked.

Whirling around to face Amber, “Where is that coming from?” Rachel retorted.

“Didn’t he break up with you?” Amber jabbed right back. Her arms crossed as if to dare Rachel to ask how she knew.

“He…” Rachel gathered her thoughts, “He did, but how did you know?”

“He was done with you and wanted to get with me. Hell, he’d been pining for me since before he even met you.” Amber smirked. “But I didn’t want to feel like a slut who Mike was cheating with, so I told him to break up with you, he did and he ran right over.”

Rachel reeled back from Amber, “But he broke up with me on Invasion Day.” She spun around to face Michael. “You broke up with me on the day before the invasion so you could fuck her?

“We spent all that time together! I baked muffins with Katherine! I made you a birthday cake! We took trips together!” Memory of the trip came to the forefront of her mind, she swung back to Amber, “We took a trip with you! You whore!” Rachel lunged for Amber. The chair rolled back against the whiteboard with their combined momentum.

“Why are you mad at me, bitch!?” Amber barely dodged fingernails to her face. “He’s the one who broke up with you!” She wrenched Rachel’s arms so that her body turned to face Michael.

Rachel disentangled herself from Amber and stomped in his direction. Michael straightened up, measuring the distance between himself and the door out of the classroom. It was too late.

“I had plans for us!” Rachel wept. “We were going to get married and set up an agency in town! We were going to raise your kids together! I knew we wouldn’t have kids, but I could be a better mother to those kids than Jessica ever could!” Deep breaths punctuated her wailing. “But no! That’s not what you wanted!”

Michael scrambled for some kind of defense. He found himself sputtering instead.

“What was I; some kind of placeholder until you found something better? You never intended to stay with me at all did you?” Rachel’s face paint bled black down her cheeks.

Celeste’s eyes had been wide until that statement. She directed them to the floor and walked away to find a further seat, lips pursed as if to say “Ooh wee”. Amber’s face said she had derived a certain sense of satisfaction at where this was going. Rachel wept openly for a moment more before she turned away from Michael and sat back down on the teacher’s desk.

Michael had nothing to say. No funny quips. No defensive tools to deflect the blame. The room was silent but for Rachel’s slowing tears for a few minutes. Instead of sitting in the consequences of his actions, he made another desperate attempt to shift focus from himself.

“What about all those guys on the bus?” He queried, though the women knew that his heart wasn’t in it.

“Whoa now! Look whose concern just reached beyond himself?” Amber laughed aloud mockingly.

Celeste laid out the facts. “You know as well as any of us that if you give some of the boys around here the opportunity to fuck and shoot guns, they’re going to take it.”

“But what’s their escape plan?” Michael rebutted.

“What escape plan? They knew they weren’t likely to get out of there. I mean, some of them must have had some thoughts on the matter, but they probably thought they could fly away in an alien spaceship.” Amber pinched the bridge of her nose.

Michael mused, “Like a bunch of praying mantises, they knew they were going to fuck and die.”

“What better way to die?” Celeste stared to the distance and nodded her head. “Boys are dumb.”

Amber rubbed a sudden itch on her face. “But they went out fighting, right?”

“I guess, but like, where is our moral barometer if you’re all mad that I broke up with Rachel to get with…” His eyes drifted to Amber, who was still rubbing her face, but had shifted to rubbing the back of the hand she had used to rub her face. “...another woman.”

“And you all sent a bus full of dudes to their probable deaths!” Michael finished.

Amber smugly defended their decision, “They knew what they signed up for. You manipulated Rachel for months before you cut it off. You knew you were wasting her time. She didn’t. That’s the difference!”

Amber had gotten louder the further she’d spoken. It made sense to Michael, as far as placing more emotion, the more she clarified his shitty role in this. Yet, there was something different from anger in her voice. It was pain.

Rachel looked up from her crying, hands black from her face paint. She looked at Amber’s face. It was smoking.

Rachel lept selflessly in front of Amber. Her thick arm was not enough.

An imperceptible beam of light passed through Rachel and Amber.

Rachel fell to the floor. Amber’s head lolled back against the whiteboard. A sudden wisp of smoke rose from the whiteboard and the back of Amber’s head where they’d come in contact. She lifted her hands to her face. The back of the hand that was rubbing her face was a juicy raw burn. She turned it to look at it. She looked at Rachel on the floor, then to Celeste and Michael.

Michael saw the blackened hole where Amber’s eye used to be. For a moment, he could see through it to the shelf of children’s toys in the corner behind her. Melted flesh found a gap that needed to be filled. Her boiled brains spilled out of the hole on both sides of her head.

Rachel sat up numbly as her arm slapped useless against her side. She pulled herself up to a standing position with her other arm. She lifted her left hand with her right hand. What flesh was left to connect her arm to her body gave way with its own weight. Her left shoulder swung down from her side onto the teacher’s desk from the pulley that was her right hand. It hit the desk with a meaty “thunk”.