“And that,” I say with a sigh, “is how I ended up here with you fine gentlemen.”

I’m sitting in a portable camping chair, my right arm in a sling and a piece of meat in my left hand. I’m not sure what kind of meat it is, and the four men around the campfire jokingly refuse to tell me. The only clue they gave was that it wasn’t filet mignon. It’s a bit slimy and gristly, but I’m too hungry to even care. It’s edible and I’m starving. The remains of the animal in question dangle on a spit over the fire, unrecognizable now.

“A bit melodramatic, don’t ya think?” says Angry, who’s name, I learn, is Sam.

I raise an eyebrow. “Which part?”

“Drivin’ off like that in the pourin’ rain, aimlessly, in an attempt to somehow outrun your emotions,” he says. “A little too John Cusack in Say Anything, if you ask me.”

“Oh, I love that movie,” says Twitchy, or Eddie. “Nothing beats ‘em American 80’s classics.”

“Oh come off it,” says Nerves, or Rob, waving a hand at me. “He just accidentally chopped off the poor girl’s legs, mate. He wasn’t in a right frame of mind. Don’t be so judgemental.” He taps his forehead aggressively. “Give the boy some grace, would ya?”

I’d told them everything, my whole story, from the podcast until now. It had taken about forty-five minutes to get through it and now my throat was sore, even more than it was when I woke up.

They are all still dressed in soccer jerseys, though the colors are different from what I recall in jail, and they have light windbreakers over the top now. Except for Angry Sam, who is wearing a dirty button-down shirt for some reason.

“That’s quite the story, mate,” says Dour, or Bob. “And explains quite a lot.”

“Yeah,” says Eddie. “We all thought you were a serial killer with a dismemberment fetish.” He chuckles at that. “First with the woman’s ‘and, then we find ya all bundled up in those airbags with those legs wrapped around ya.” He shutters. “Surprised you didn’t break much of anything else, the way you rolled like that. Someone up there’s watching over you, mate, ‘at’s for sure.” He kisses his fingertips, points to the sky, then makes the sign of the cross over his head and chest.

“Not me,” says Angry Sam. “I didn’t think you were a killer. Had me convinced you were one of them walkin’ around wearin’ some sort of human skin disguise.” He motions with a thumb to the massive alien wreckage behind him in the distance.

“It’s quite the story,” says Dour Bob, “But is it all true?” he amends, then looks at me, knowingly. He nonchalantly adjusts the rifle leaning against his chair.

I open my mouth to respond when Nerves Rob speaks for me.

“O’ course it’s true,” he says, then looks at me. “Tell ‘em, Jack.”

“Well, go on,” says Dour Bob. “Show us, then. Make that meat right there in your ‘and disappear. Send it onward to this wonder world of yours.”

I have my mouth open, about to take another bite, when I pause and close it. I consider it. My injury affected Xeno’s ability to communicate with me—hopefully temporarily—but did it affect my ability to send things along? It would be good to find that out, so I lift the slab up for all to see, close my eyes, and …

It disappears.

“Blimey, he is tellin’ the truth,” says Dour Bob, tapping the shotgun in his lap.

“Told ya,” says Rob.

“I never doubted ya,” says Eddie.

“Well, there goes your dinner,” says Sam, chuckling.

A part of me thinks Xeno would get a kick out of this conversation. I look at my palm, massage the scar for a few moments. There’s a constant dull pain on the surface and a deep, humming sting under the skin.

“I, uh … Thank you, by the way, for pulling me out and … wrapping me up,” I say, looking at Angry Sam.

“Not a problem, mate,” says the man, leaning back in his chair. He has a water bottle in his hand now. “Brought me back to my days in the nursin’ home, it did.” He thinks for a moment. “I remember this one time an old bloke took a viagra, then somehow snaps his member right in half and I had to—”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Oi, give it a rest, Sammy,” says Rob. “None of us want to hear about your nursin’ home days.”

“Did it really snap in half?” says Dour Bob.

“Clean off, mate,” says Angry Sam.

“Ewe,” says Eddie.

“Speaking of stories,” I say, then let out a painful cough. “What about you all? What brought you here”

“Ah, well,” says Dour Bob, “When a mummy and daddy love each other very much—”

“Come off it,” says Rob, then turns to me. “It’s been a wild adventure, that’s for sure, mate. You see, when we got out of—”

“I’ll tell it,” says Twitchy Eddie. “You always go on forever with superfluous details.” Eddie looks at me. “I’ll give ya the truncated version. Clean, short, to the point. You don’t need all the droll.” He clears his throat. “So, once we got out of the slammer for startin’ that little brawl up at the pub, we headed right for the crash.” He points his water bottle at the horizon. “Ran into a bit o’ trouble along the way, but eventually we found ourselves in a spot of the ship we could investigate. As you well know, it turns out the whole thing is made out of this … crystal composite, or whatever.”

“Oh, hold on,” I say, adjusting uncomfortably in my chair. I clench up, grit my teeth. “That was fast. It usually doesn't hurt like this—one second.” The pain in my ribs intensifies as the piece of meat comes back into existence. It flops into my hands with a wet plop.

All of them make oohs and awes, except for Twitchy Eddie. Instead, he turns and pukes into Angry’s chest.

Angry Sam stands up, bursts out in a litany of obscenities, and tears off his button down shirt.

“Sorry, mate,” says Twitchy Eddie, wiping his mouth. “I’ve a weak constitution, you know that.”

“You couldn't have turned the other way?” says Sam, tossing the shirt away.

“Well, Bob’s over there,” he says, as if that explained everything.

“And?” says Angry Sam, living up to the nickname I gave him.

“Sorry about that,” I say, cringing, feeling in part responsible.

“Give us yer jacket,” Angry Sam demands of Eddie.

Eddie groans, looks around, then complies.

I look down at the meat, shrug, and take another bite. A man’s got to eat, even if it is interstellar traveling mystery meat.

“Right,” says Nerves Rob. “I think I’ll take over from here.” He clears his throat, looks at me with his hands up ready to animate. “So, we’re able to chop off a few pieces of crystal and head to Silicon Valley in hopes of a pay out. But we stop in Vegas on the way there, because of course we do. And wouldn’t you know it, we see something really shiny behind a restaurant sticking out of the asphalt. It’s a—”

“It was behind the club, not the restaurant,” corrected Twitchy Eddie. “Anyone have an extra jacket? I’m freezing.”

“Whatever,” says Rob, looking back at me. “I was a bit tipsy then—point is, it was another crystal, but this one was special. It was glowing bright green, it was, and it was glorious. We were surprised it hadn’t been snatched up already.”

“The crystal in the back of your van?” I ask.

“The very one,” he says, and nods.

Another thought occurs to me. If I can still send things, can I pull the marble out of the crystal without Xeno’s help? That was something Xeno primarily did by himself. I just stood there while he worked his alien magic.

“Would you mind … pulling it out for me?” I say. “I want to see something.”

Eddie goes: “That’s what your mum—”

“Oi,” says Nerves Rob, pointing at Eddie. Then he looks at me. He considers for a moment, then smiles. “Sure, mate. Be right back.”

As Nerves Rob stands up, Twitchy Eddie continues with the story.

“Anyway,” he says. “We don’t even make it out of Vegas proper before the quake hits. We all nearly died that day. Towers came crashing down around us, the very mother earth herself opened up and swallowed the MGM whole. It was absolutely terrifying.”

“Tell him about that water,” says Dour Bob.

“I’m getting to that,” says Eddie, glancing at Bob. He looks back at me. “Then the ocean comes rushing in right as we’re leaving town. A wall of white and blue, gulping up everything in sight. We barely made it out of there alive.” He shakes his head. “So many didn’t.”

There’s a moment of silence as we all contemplate this incredible tragedy. Then there’s a loud door slam; it makes me jump. I look up. Rob is on his way back with the crystal clutched in the crook of his arm, like a football. The American kind.

“And then we find you,” finishes Eddie, with a single clap. “There’s a lot I’m leaving out, o’ course but like I said—truncated.”

Nerves Rob sits down in his chair and holds up the crystal. There’s weight to it, you can tell by the way he holds it.

“Here it is,” he says. “We found your Captain America shield as well. Was sticking out of the ground not twenty yards from the wreck.” He places the crystal in my lap and I flinch. I can confirm it is very heavy. “It’s in the back o’the van.”

“Thank you,” I say, staring down at it.

“That crystal ain't much good to us now anyway,” says Twitchy Eddie, “Not with the money market system in total disarray and everyone who might have any interest in it at the bottom of the ocean.”

I take a breath, put my hand on it. I can feel Xeno begin to stir, but nothing else happens.

I sigh and scrunch up my face, frustrated.

“Well?” says Nerves Rob. “Anything?”

“Nothing,” I say, looking up at him. I let out a deep breath, which kills my ribs.

Just then, the earth begins to tremble.

It’s subtle, but we all feel it. It’s enough to remind all of us of the horrors we have all faced in the last month. And the horrors yet to come.

I sigh, and look down at the crystal and wonder if I’m ever going to get out of here.