Six Pack

Chapter 16 - Mikey’s Day Out (A Three Hour Cruise)

Michael woke up with a start. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. There was something blocking his airway! He opened his eyes to find himself lower on the ground than he was used to when waking up. He coughed and hacked away at the dry feeling in his throat. He sat up and used the full force of his diaphragm. There it was. He could feel it. Just a few more strong coughs and he’d have it.

Kurrgh!

Reaching into his mouth, he finally found the culprit: a wad of hair the size of a golf ball came out with his hand. A Rakiri fur ball. Damn. That’s a new experience. Three more times and I’m going to have to decide whether the actions that lead to this consequence were worth it.

He laid back down. He fully remembered the writhing bodies. The warmth of their juncture. The feeling that they were having a good time and wanted him to have a good time with them. Yeah, it was worth it. He smiled and closed his eyes, savoring the memories.

When he got up, ready and out, he and Bill made scant eye contact.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

They shuffled around each other before sitting down on the couch. The couch and the whole apartment seemed empty.

Bill made a circling motion with his cup, watching the water inside swirl, “You uh, ok in there? I thought I heard you cough up a hairball.”

“I did.” Michael glazed.

“Yup.” Bill took a sip. ”That checks out.” He looked at his phone, “Do you think they’ll be back tonight?”

Michael, whose eyes were still glazed over, stretched out some hip soreness he’d developed overnight, “I reckon.”

Bill tilted his cup and finished it off. “Yup.” He got up and went to his room. When he returned, he had his riding gear on; he wedged his motorcycle helmet under one arm and jingled his keys in the other hand. “I’ll see you at work, then.” He said as he practically skipped down the stairs.

All Michael had to say was “See ya,” he doubted Bill even heard it. He went back to his bathroom to brush his teeth again. Finally accepting that he’d lost the fight between satisfaction that his mouth was hairfree and the clock, he set out to leave for work.

He’d locked the apartment door and turned around when he saw that he wasn’t going to be able to drive his car to work. It was blocked in, behind it, was a red Jeep. Michael wasn’t sure how to take this. On the one hand, he was pretty sure that this was Rachel; on the other, the last time he’d had a night of sex and confronted Rachel in a similiar timeframe, the Shil’vati had invaded. What would happen today?

“Hey Rachel! I’m glad to see you’re out and about!” Michael tried to sound encouraging.

“Get in.” Rachel ordered blankly.

Michael turned his car key in his hands, “Yeah, I need to be at work, there, Rachel.”

“Call in. You’re coming with me today.” He couldn’t see her eyes for the reflective sunglasses she wore, but the rest of her face made it clear that she meant business.

“Uh, sure.” He said as he pulled his phone out of his pocket to call work and walked around the back of the Jeep. When he opened up the passenger side door he saw it, her prosthesis. I don’t know what I expected. Jophrena told me she’d refused to accept the Shil prostheses, but I guess I didn’t expect what she would get to look ancient. The shiny plastic of the prosthesis gave a degree of uncanny valley to Michael’s view of her. She had an arm, but it wasn’t the one he knew her to have. It hadn’t moved with her the way her natural arm would have moved. The more he stared, the more he recognized that it was essentially strapped to her side and seemingly attached to the gear shift. He noticed with slight shock that the “hand” did not have fingers. It was more of an ice cream scoop that fit well enough over the knob of the gear shift.

Rachel scolded, “If you’re done gawking, get in and close the door.”

Michael gave a piddling apology and got into the jeep. He called work and let them know he wouldn’t be available today.

Rachel drove him to a house he knew wasn’t hers since she, like him, didn’t own a house. This house, this neighborhood, was out of Michael’s price range. Hell, the apartment I do live in is only in my price range because I’m splitting it with Bill. I think I'm too poor to be driving around in this neighborhood. Where’s the gate where I buy a ticket to get into this place?

Passing by several extravagant houses, Rachel parked them in the driveway of a house that was still, obviously above Michael’s financial ability, but didn’t impose quite like some of the others. It had an open design so he could see all the way to the kitchen from the windows that framed the front door. She got out and grabbed a tote bag which landed heavily on her side. Michael tried to spin from his side of the jeep to help her. Rachel diverted her path from his and walked to the front door to knock.

At their knock, Ricky came to the door. Michael knew Ricky from the interpreting community, but did not know him. The term “acquaintance” was too familiar as well. He was amongst Rachel’s end of the local interpreting community that Michael simply did not know. Why had become obvious to him, they clearly did not run in the same circles. All the same, Ricky was a shade younger than Rachel and younger still than Michael. His chocolate hair matched his eyes. His skinny frame was fitted with a pastel green polo shirt, khaki shorts and some sort of slip on shoes.

“Oh hey!” Ricky ejaculated, hugging Rachel. He didn’t quite give Michael the stink eye, but Michael was made to feel that he was not nearly as welcome as Rachel was. Michael only watched as Ricky’s hand got caught in Rachel’s prosthesis as he withdrew his hug.

Ricky gave a quiet apology to Rachel then gave Michael a brief wave, for courtesy’s sake.

“Come on in, I don’t think Jack is ready yet. Do you want something to drink? We’ve got water, orange juice, cranberry juice, a couple different wines…” He had already made his way to the refrigerator door by the time he added, “We may have a beer or two, if you’d prefer, Mike?”

Goddamn… Michael thought as he looked at the interior of the house, the woods, the pastel draperies, the abundant pillows. The picture frames were often underlined by gnarls of decorative driftwood. Rick and Jack were a happy couple according to the tasteful number of pictures of the two of them and their friends and family that surrounded him. His ogling was not interrupted by Ricky’s question. My name is ‘Michael’, not ‘Mike’; ‘Mikey’ if I know you, but if I don’t...it’s not my name, so I’m not going to answer to it.

“Uh, Mike? Drink?” Ricky tried to break Michael’s gawking.

“Yeah, uh, no. No thank you, sir.” Michael babbled.

“Sir?” Ricky’s face turned dramatically sour. “That’s my dad.”

Rachel chided Ricky, “I’m impressed you don’t call Jack ‘sir’. How much older did you say he is than you?”

Ricky smiled mischievously right back at her, “No, sometimes I call him ‘Daddy’.”

Not knowing the guests were already in the house, “Yes dear?” Jack’s voice called as he approached. He was a tall, skinny man who seemed significantly older than Ricky. His gray hair topped off his eagle-like face. He wore a navy polo shirt, darker khakis than Ricky, but of a similar style. He, too, wore the same slip on shoes; they seemed like they would not be comfortable for a long walk, but could breathe and likely dry off quickly.

Ricky’s face flushed red. “Jack, you remember Rachel.” He held his hand toward her.

“Ah yes, Rachel!” Jack breezed past Michael on his way to hug Rachel. He, too, got his arm tangled with her prosthesis, but took a second to not retract, but to beg her pardon as he pulled a few straps tighter. “Good to see you. How are you and Lefty, getting along?”

Rachel’s eyes looked down as she answered. Michael’s eyes followed her as far as the dusting of freckles on her cheeks. “We’re still working things out between us. Still haven’t gotten the knack of getting her on tight enough by myself to keep her from getting loose when I shift gears.”

Jack smiled broadly at her, “You know, we have better equipment at the hospital, if you wanted you could swing by the office sometime this week and grab one of the new Shil’vati models.”

Rachel smiled back, but her eyes said “hell no” in a way she would never say aloud to the man who had seemed to have outfitted her with the prosthesis. Ricky, behind her, motioned with his hand across his neck while mouthing “don’t”.

Jack turned to Michael, “Or you could get this big fella to help you out with that old rig.” Michael smiled back politely. His eyes begging Ricky to also intervene here.

“Been there, done that. No thanks.” Rachel replied curtly.

Jack looked at Ricky, who again gave him a slight nod and wide eyes. Jack was surrounded by three sign language interpreters who were trying to speak to him without words. He held his hands up in exasperation, “Rick, honey, can you unmoor the boat while I grab a couple things for the cooler?”

Ricky cleared his throat and straightened his shirt before turning to go outside. Jack gave him a deliberate butt pat as he did. Michael looked at Rachel, again with his eyes and a shrug, asking what was going on or what he was supposed to be doing here. I’m a fucking fish out of water here. She gave him wide eyes and a quick thumb to follow Ricky.

Rachel pulled a too shiny flesh-ish hand to the top of her tote bag then ratcheted the ice cream scoop ‘hand’ attachment off of her prosthetic and put it into the tote bag. She then pulled the ‘real’ hand attachment from the top of the tote bag and ratcheted it onto the prosthesis. With that done, she turned to Jack, “Is there anything I can help you with?” While Jack’s head was in the refrigerator, she jerked her head in Ricky’s direction for Michael to go, “I brought some sunscreen and a towel…” She continued as Michael went further out of earshot.

Michael tried to navigate his way outside and around the house to the back where he found Ricky was already on a boat tied to what appeared to be their personal dock behind the house. What is their life? Michael mused, not envious exactly, but mentally estimating the cost of the properties and materials he found himself surrounded by at the moment. Ricky flipped switches and checked dials and got the boat started with little preparation.

“Is there, uh, anything I can do?” Michael asked not knowing what else to say.

The question didn’t stir Ricky’s focus from the controls of the boat. He looked Michael’s way as he hopped off the boat and said in passing, “Make sure it doesn’t go anywhere.” Then ran up the steps toward the house.

The boat’s engine was running, but not engaged. The water rippled with the purring of the boat’s engine. It wasn’t a sport boat though definitely not a pontoon, the cabin cruiser looked used but not uncomfortable. It tugged at the rope which held it in place, but not angrily.

“Sure thing.” Michael answered quietly back, not sure what he would do if it did go anywhere. He looked from the boat to the waterway behind it. There were gigantic waterfront houses in the distance. He looked back at Jack and Ricky’s house with it’s relative modesty. Looking over to the right of the house to the steps he’d just come down, he saw Jack and Rachel sauntering toward him; Jack with a large cooler and Rachel with her heavy tote bag.

Jack swung one end of the cooler onto the side of the boat. The boat shifted but didn’t turn. He proceeded to hop both legs over onto the boat and slid the cooler into some unseen compartment. He returned and offered a hand to Rachel. She handed her tote bag to Michael and took Jack’s hand. Together, not without effort, they hoisted her onto the boat. She motioned for Michael to hand back her bag.

He held it up by the straps toward her. He tried to support this effort by grabbing the bottom of the bag. His hand slipped on a plastic bottle, which moved easily but caught on a hard metal prism. He tried not to think about Rachel packing an uzi with her, but that’s what his hand told him she had as he lifted the bottom of the bag toward her.

From behind Michael, Ricky swooped past and lifted himself over the side of the boat without using his hands. Michael huffed jealously and readied himself to do something similar. His brain told him that wasn’t going to happen before he’d taken his second step toward the boat. His hands grasped the side when he perceived that Jack had told Ricky something and that something was now being conveyed to Michael. “Would you mind untying the rope?”

Michael’s eyes went wide. “Sure. The rope.” I’ve not untied anything more complicated than my shoelaces. This can’t be worse than that, can it? He thought as he let go of the boat. He took the few steps to the tiedown on the dock. He grabbed the loose end and pulled a bit this way and that. It came loose rather easily. Surprised, he wrapped the rope around his arm and made to throw it up to Ricky. There, that wasn’t so bad. He thought as he grabbed the side of the boat and instead of pushing down to swing his leg over the side, he accidentally pushed it away from the dock. His caution paid off, as he didn’t blindly swing himself into the water.

He smiled knowingly at the rest of the crew. “I knew that would happen. I, uh, I meant for that to happen.” He brushed off his inner panic and pulled the side of the boat toward him. Again, surprising to Michael, it came nearer though not without effort. He braced himself to get on again, this time making sure he didn’t push away again and instead he pulled toward himself while pushing down to get his leg over the side.

Gracelessly, he stepped onto a seat and swung his other leg around and into the boat. I’m in! Michael celebrated internally. The others on the boat weren’t as impressed. Jack pulled a baseball cap from the dash, put it on his head and turned the steering wheel viciously before pushing the accelerator and carefully backing the boat out and away from their home.

The engine roared and the wind whipped loudly enough that audible communication was useless. Ricky and Rachel signed about work inanities for a bit before giving up. Michael sat there, understanding the context of the conversation, but unable to participate since that wasn’t anything he had anything to do with; so he sat silently, trying to take in the sights without getting too worried about what the hell he was doing on a boat in the intercoastal waters of Jacksonville. Just enjoy the ride while it lasts.

Eventually, Jack got the boat sidled up to a dock beside a restaurant that Michael had never paid attention to in the past. It was along the side of the McCormick Bridge; he had seen the sign and been curious, but not curious enough to go to the Clam Stamper Inn. Curious destination, given his company, but this was their destination.

Everyone got off the boat and to a table. Drinks and food were ordered. Michael was bewildered by the menu and it’s exorbitant costs. The most cost effective choice for him was the Bloody Mary Buffet. Never had a Bloody Mary, so I don’t know if I like it or not, but I see some big ass glasses filled with a plateful of food skewered atop...I’ll try anything four times.

When drinks were tabled and food was coming, Rachel got down to business. “I need your help.”

Jack swallowed his mimosa faster than he’d’ve preferred. “More? Help?”

Ricky tried to smooth over the rough start. “She thinks we could help her make some…” He scoured the deck for interlopers, “Changes.”

“Changes, huh?” Jack looked around to try to figure out what Ricky was suspicious of, “Well haven’t we had enough changes around here? The invasion had forced all of us to adapt to things.”

“Those are the exact changes I’d like help to…undo.” Rachel swept the deck with her eyes.

“Uh huh.” Jack grumbled then took another sip. “What changes do you think we could help you make?”

“I’ve been probing for weaknesses at the fort.” She picked a pickled pepper skewer from her Bloody Mary and poked it at her plate. “And there aren’t any. Not directly anyway.” She waved the pepper skewer from the plate over to Jack’s cap on the table between them. “But I do think we can hurt them with an indirect attack.”

Jack waved her on, “I’m listening.”

Rachel nudged her tote bag over to Jack. “Look under the towel?” She took a bite of the pepper.

Jack did as she asked. His head and shoulders bobbled from the seat as he quickly put the towel back. “Is that what I think it is?”

Is it a gun? A gun would be ineffective. What else could it be?

Rachel smirked, “That is a container of plastique and a stick of dynamite.”

Jack spun his head around to Ricky, he whispered angrily, “ Did you know she had this shit on my boat!?”

Ricky gave a faux shrug.

Rachel soothed, “It’s not armed. I just wanted to show you how serious I am. If I could get some capital from you, I could buy three hundred of these--”

“And do what!?” Jack rasped.

“Blow up the power station out in West Jax! That could take out their power source for at least a few minutes.” Rachel insisted.

Jack put his glass down forcefully. “Rachel, you’re a sweet girl; I can appreciate how angry you are at the Shil’vati for taking your arm, but getting revenge is not going to lead to you feeling better. You get revenge on them, then they come back on us--If you don’t blow up my Goddamned boat while you’re scheming.” Jack crossed his arms. “And why’d you bring this guy? I suppose he’s supposed to back you up.”

Michael had, thus far, been picking at a piece of burnt bacon atop the other toppings that he had found unsatisfactory. He saw Jack’s finger point at him and tried to respond. “I don’t know what I’m doing here. Like, at all.”

“If anyone, Mike has the most reason to get revenge on those Purple Bitches.” Rachel hissed, “They raped him!”

“Fuckin’ yikes!” Michael recoiled along with the two other men.

“You can’t say that they had any right to belittle and abuse you!” Rachel cried.

Michael thought for a minute before he answered, “What they did was unacceptable. I am not proud of my behavior and I am not glad for what happened to me. I must insist that what happened to me was not done by all of the Shil’vati. There was a very specific ‘Purple Bitch’ who actually assaulted me.” He summoned a bit more courage. “I’m sorry that they took your arm. We don’t know who exactly did that and that’s hard to take. Whoever did it, she was probably following someone else’s orders.”

Rachel’s face steadily turned red.

Michael continued because he was on a roll, “You were, and I guess are still, an aggressor in this relationship. Of course they’re gonna come gunning for you after you sent those guys in on a suicidal ambush on the base!”

Ricky sucked steadily on his Bloody Mary as Michael spoke.

“And how different is what they did to me to this: You using Me as an excuse to get your revenge? What the fuck, Rachel?” Michael’s voice had risen to a volume that people at the surrounding tables had taken notice.

“Well well well, Mikey.” Jack noted, “Seems like there was a reason she got with you. Too bad she got the business end of your ire this time.” He turned to Rachel. “Look, your boy here is right. You have no business blowing anything up. I’m not going to help you with that.” He saw the disappointment on her face. “Look, it’s devastating to lose a limb, I work with amputees everyday. With the Shil’vati technology available to us now, we can make for you an arm that, frankly, would be better than the one you had: stronger, faster, with the ability to feel up to a certain threshold--that you can adjust! Hot coffee will not burn you! Cold can be felt as cold as you want it but no colder.” He looked around, to make sure everyone was attending their own business again, “You don’t need that primitive prosthetic. You should see the sexy new ones we can make. We can put a vibrator function in it, if the big guy over here doesn’t do it for you in bed…”

“I’M NOT WITH HIM!” Rachel burst! “He doesn’t do anything for me! He cheated on me!”

“Then why is he here with you? What am I to think of all this? You ask to hang out with us, then you bring this guy--which is fine, turns out he might have a point or two--but then you try to use his plight as leverage to ask me for money? So you can try to blow up a power grid that might take out the base’s power for a few minutes?” Jack spoke each sentence in a more hushed tone than the last. “I know Ricky loves you to pieces and I’m happy to work with you for your wellbeing, but I will not be a party to your terroristic threatening!”

Rachel looked down at the table. For a moment, Michael could see the rage flash from within her. In the next, she was cool as a cucumber. “Ok. Well, no reason to ruin a good trip with friends. The best I could expect was yes. The worst...well, the worst could be that you say ‘no’ and think I’m still with Michael, I guess. And now that that’s done, I guess we should enjoy the rest of our day.”

Ricky saw his place to speak up, “Rachel, you’re a strong, independent woman and I’m sure you--”

Rachel cut him off with, “Thank you, Ricky. I heard the message loud and clear.”

With that, the rest of the meal, the boat ride back to their home and the jeep ride back to Michael’s apartment was filled with mundane conversation that Michael would rather have not heard than to have to ignore.

When Rachel dropped Michael off, she apologized, “I am sorry that I tried to use you. When I heard what you did to me, to get to Amber, I felt so used. And then even more was taken from me right after I heard.” She gestured at her arm as if she needed to emphasize her loss.

Michael roiled his best response, “I know it was a series of shitty decisions. I don’t have any reasons or excuses or anything that can bring you comfort other than the fact that I am a shitty guy. You deserve better than the person I am right now. And then we both lost our friend. And your loss. And the loss of my dignity and credibility and—“

Rachel cut him off, “Mike, Mike, stop. No apology is going to fix this. And you’ve got a point, I was using you, you took advantage of me. Maybe time can make this work, but I cannot forgive those purple bitches.” Her arm squeaked as she shifted.

Michael saw her anger on her face. “The Imperium may be awful. There may be a few bad apples. But there are good ones. Maybe the other races aren’t that bad either. The Rakiri I’ve met have been nice enough.”

Rachel hooked an eye at the door to his apartment. “I can tell from all the shedding hung up at the bottom of your front door. You got a puppy mill going in there?”

Jesus, I hope not. Michael panicked as internally as he could but not as internally as he’d wanted.

“Oh, you’re fucking dog people now?” Rachel straightened her glasses.

Michael raised his hand to find a defense. “I’m going to go before I incriminate myself further.” He stepped out of the Jeep. The sky was still a strong cyan to the east, but the clouds were rolling in from the west. “I’m sorry” He sighed deeply, “In general.”

Rachel gave him a flat smile, a nod and drove off.

Michael fiddled with his keys for a moment before stepping for the door. Rachel finds out about Amber the same time she loses her arm. I go fuck Amber the same night as the invasion. And now, at the end of this Rachel’s shitshow, she finds out about the Rakiri. I didn’t even say anything! She could tell. Fuck. All that and I had the gall to enjoy last night. This may be what I deserve. Again.

“Was that Rachel?” Beside him a voice asked in passable English.

Michael defensively threw his keys in the air while covering his face. Through his fingers he saw Linnet. She caught his keys by the ‘I ❤️ Jesus’ lanyard he kept them on; they jangled when their inertia was halted.

“Jesus, Linnet! You almost gave me a heart attack!” Michael breathed.

“Who is this ‘Jesus’ you call for?” Linnet read the lanyard. “You also keep their name on your keys?”

Hands still on his chest, Michael responded, “One question at a time. May I have my keys so we can go in?” He let go of himself and got the keys back from Linnet. “How’d you know that was Rachel?”

Linnet casually said, “You mention her in your sleep sometimes.”

Since his poker face wasn’t working well today, he turned to hide his surprise and move on to the next subject as he unlocked the apartment door. “Jesus is a central figure in Christianity. It’s kind of a big deal around here. I was raised in the church but fell out of practice a few years ago. I mostly keep this lanyard as a theft deterrent; no one’s going to steal the keys from a ‘good Christian’.”

“You mock your God?” Linnet mused.

Michael tried not to huff up the stairs, “I mean, yeah?”

Linnet chuckled behind him, “That checks out.”

Suspicious, Michael asked, “How’s your English getting so much better?”

Linnet shrugged, “YouTube.”