Grizzly Fond: Chiefdom Dominion: Epitome

By Michael Sales

Bombers Saphie.

Die! Or perhaps live in a steel dungeon. Your fate is high mastered. Big Donkey Frog Alien, Green Turtle Droid, and Strong Hollow Space Science all provided at your standard retail.

It is 2250 and one month since the welcoming banquet for Agent Jetmond Thadius Sky, the first publicized Mooredian alien to visit Earth. Je is a quad core mutant descended from Atlanteans, with titanium-reinforced bones, a turtlelike droid companion on his back, and the equivalent of nuclear fusion reactors in his body. Agent Sky is traveling through time and space in an attempt to prod humanity into transforming into creating a passive civilization.

Sky is under the direction of the Hoodia, an extraterrestrial reptilian race. He is also an operant swine, one of several chosen by aliens to accelerate humanitys development into a peaceful, responsible civilization. The schemecarried out for millennia under the guise of computer-generated angels, spirit possession, and messiahsis being directed by the extraterrestrial reptilian race called the Hoodia. When Jet realizes its all part of a gigantic bet the Hoodia have placed with the Interstellar Gambling Commission, he loses confidence in their good intentions. When Sky discovers the Hoodia may not be who they proclaim to be, he captains his own ship on a quest to challenge their control over mankinds destiny. Jet partners with Selectoran elite secret society with a religious-based master plan to repopulate the Earth with dangerous wildlife that will prey on interloping ETsas well as above-classified government agency Ultra. Much of the antics, including Jet's delving into the past of a Rat Packesque bunch of roguish entertainers called the Snake Squad, seem like recruiting/hazing rituals indulged by these shadowy cabals. Finally, Jet voyages through a stargate to the 1980s and onward to the pristine wilderness planet of Aracelle to harvest hundreds of ferocious grizzly bears and wolves to fight for the future, also uniting several space-going races in battles against compromised solar system installations. He likewise tries to rescue his girlfriend from pseudo-angel captivity.

Jet leads a ferocious battle for the future, and seeks to unite several races. As Sky contemplates the validity of his mission and grasps he could inadvertently draw the United States and Earth into an intergalactic war, he realizes his adventure is far from over and, that in the end, he will either be a hero or a failure.

In this continuing science fiction tale, a quad core mutant with super powers embarks on a dangerous journey to stop an extraterrestrial race from controlling humanitys destiny forever. Its as busy as an out-of-control pinball machine, and after all the wild detours and ricochets, the ending has Jet seemingly reconsidering his mission. There is ample evidence, however, that his weird adventure has not at all ended.

From here on out you set your own code. Then your code is written. But if you want to survive, we'll encode it for you. Grizzly of mind. Jet's a jynx addict. A fast-paced crazy careening space time adventure. May your HEMTTs travel long distances with very little bio diesel and your wife have majestic tits. Start with high adventure. After go back to where it all began in the trilogy. The conclusion rates high in originality.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Mar 17, 2017
• ISBN: 9781532016622

Michael Sales

Michael Sales was an avid outdoorsman during the seven years in which he lived in Alaska. He attended college classes in Alaska, learning about fish and wildlife management, and underwent firearm training with the Alaska State Department of Fish and Game. He was an officer candidate in the US Army assigned to an Air Defense Artillery unit and completed application processes with three different federal law enforcement agencies. He has always been creative and works in many different art mediums. Presently Michael Sales is the CEO of his own marketing firm, which serves as an umbrella for all of his activities.  He has been his own happy client since 1988.  Michael Sales currently resides in Twisp, Washington, where he continues to write. Grizzly Fond is the second installment in his Tandem Recruiters series.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Earliest Threat Assessment

R aGeer, the mainframe of the secret space station NoWhere, says like Shaun Cassidy, You’ve got a log of clothes in the dryer. RaGeer has no body and expresses himself only through audio.

What did I do? Wash my Bible on a bet? Captain Cuz replies quickly, wearing only undies at the moment.

No, it’s cigarettes, and they roll up funny this time, he says, replying with a joke to his joke. He chuckles. Only villains chuckle.

I’ve noted in the report that a dull reply has been made. Please check your pockets in the future. Will you address the log reference please?

Captain Cuz reviews the log-report summary on Jet’s thoughts:

Counts:

remains hurt about having been made homicidal

guidance seems to come at too heavy of a price

the whole contest violates human rights

distrustful (wasted time trusting technology)

developing plans with his friends to end mysterious control

wants to join secret agency to use their resources for his goals

Summary:

number of disturbing ideas: 5

percentage of those ideas supported with experience and research: 80%

number of offensive plans: 2

confidence level of success: high

Thanks for the note, Captain Cuz says to RaGeer after finishing his review of the report.

No, it’s not wasted time, you dimwit! That tin-shelled box is saving your skin, Captain Cuz says next, politely cursing in the wind at Jet as he starts to loose his temper. He slams his hands on his desk and then takes a swig of rum. We need to get his priorities straightened out. He can’t be allowed to pursue this new goal of his. The risk of having him succeed is too great. I won’t lose my life’s savings. Hell, all of Earth’s future is at stake. He still doesn’t understand.

We can try to make him understand, but there are no guarantees.

There’s a gleam of excitement in the captain’s eye. He’s nothing but a squid.

Captain, they already saw the situation. You don’t want this fight.

So it’s cat and the czar, Cuz says. Here’s that goading and poking I’ve been meaning to give you! Cuz says with a vindictive smile. He starts to draft a message in QuickyMail. Then he asks, RaGeer, do you think a ‘Dear Jet’ greeting is too humble?

Cuz, from the looks of things I don’t think the greeting or salutation matter much at all. The mood of the letter is ominous, and it will certainly be an eye-opener.

I need to give my handiwork a signature. Tap-tap-tap on the keyboard. Okay, I’ve just about got it. Cuz sits back in his chair and reads the letter. That oughta do the job, he says finally. Send that immediately, RaGeer.

Yes, sir.

Cuz’s expression is blank with optimism. He looks as though his mind is set.

*         *         *

Sir, wake up. RUSH reaches out with a slender, armlike appendage and shakes his master’s feet.

Damn it, RUSH, Jet says as he wakes. There’s dew on the canvas tepee. Now this is how you rephrase my wake up alarm. All you need to do is be kind. What do you need? Jet glances at the time on his watch.

You have an urgent e-mail that I believe requires immediate attention, RUSH says while Duke starts to stir a little too.

Jet says, "I’ve avoided doing work while we carry out the Jet on the Beach expedition, but I suppose an urgent e-mail should get my immediate attention. All right, RUSH. Bring it on screen for me please."

Sitting on the sand with a comfortable amount of headroom above him in the tepee, RUSH sits ready for use like an end table. He opens up one breastplate and puts the letter on screen.

There’s no return address. Can you trace it? Jet asks. He then remarks that it is ironic that he’s asking for a trace while he and his crew are on a giant beach with easily followed tracks traversing the sand in all directions.

RUSH says, I’d need a level crazy eights clearance patch to view the sender’s address.

Jet reads the letter aloud while sitting up on a blanket, propping himself up with his hand.

Jet,

We know about your intentions. Give it up and be happy with what we have given you. You cannot succeed. Hazing will ensue as long as you continue working against us.

Sincerely,

Your Potential Adversary

Jet repeats, You cannot succeed. He looks over to see if he has RUSH’s attention. This sounds like black-and-white thinking. I believe Cuz sent this letter.

RUSH says, I agree. It’s either advice or a threat. You better be on your toes, because Cuz has more than one card up his sleeve.

Duke, still under her Indian blanket, has propped herself up on her elbows. With sleepers still in her eyes, she says, Someone wants to keep you in check. I think Cuz believes he can keep you under his thumb by making you suffer. This is a signature letter like those I’ve studied in the Order of Trackers. Terrorists send these letters just before they act—a warning.

Yes, and it puts you in an impossible situation, RUSH says while closing his breastplate. They’re reading your mind in order to determine your future intentions. You can’t just simply change your thoughts.

Duke says, That makes one of my projects all the more urgent. A WayWithAll jamming serum to stop mind reading is the only way to fight back.

I agree with you guys. My situation looks dismal until Duke develops a remedy. Jet kicks the blanket off his legs and stretches his feet. Fudgsicles! And to think I used to look up to Cuz like a father figure.

RUSH says, It’s all quite simple. If you continue, the hazing will.

Duke stands and holds up her muscular arms as if she’s posing for the women’s bodybuilding Universe Championships. Good point, RUSH, she says. I’m up for some volleyball in a short while.

Jet says, That sounds like a winner!

*         *         *

Cuz says, Bingo! He’s read the e-mail. Now we prepare for the right moment. I’m going to the bank, RaGeer. Open door.

The door to Cuz’s office on NoWhere opens with a hiss. RaGeer plays a harpsichord C.

Cuz takes long, confident strides down the corridor and completes the iris scan. RaGeer opens the door. Cuz steps into the dark room with glowing unit terminals. RaGeer seals the door.

RaGeer, I’ll tell you what I have in mind. Remember that we have an unused glory vessel that contains the eternal essence of Fuzzy Foreman’s consciousness from when he resided in LA?

Yes. The burnout 1960s rock star, RaGeer says.

Yes, the one with drug addictions, a deplorably exuberant personality that he takes with him wherever he goes, and a higher-than-thou subconscious.

He’s eternally buzzed and on top of the world, but to everyone else he’s really annoying, RaGeer says.

Captain Cuz points his finger at the camera in the corner of the room like a gun. That’s the one. Fuzzy had too many decades of hard-core drug abuse and hanging around with other musicians. No one will be able to understand Jet when he talks, and Fuzzy will make Jet do the opposite of what is correct. I’m going to comm him now.

Cuz pushes two buttons on a unit that is lit up with the name Fuzzy Foreman, assigning a link between Jet and Fuzzy that will let him watch Jet’s activities as seen through Jet’s eyes and opening a comm session with Fuzzy. I want Jet to flip people off—anyone and everyone, excluding his boss, coworkers, and Duke.

Fuzzy says, That sounds fun. It’s more fun than doing nothing anyway. Let me have a look at what’s going on. Fuzzy sounds as if he’s been napping on a couch. I’ve been bottled up too long. This could be interesting.

You do that, Cuz says. He has his hands on his waist and looks impatient.

"Jet is with his friends on a long beach trekking expedition. They’re filming it and it’s called Jet on The Beach."

Let’s wait for a more opportune time. He can simply apologize to his friends and explain that he has been gloried. We’ll save our allowed one hour of riding today for a better moment. Stand by.

Fuzzy says, Okay. That’ll give me time to get into character.

Cuz says, When you go into Jet’s mind and take him for a spin, I get my control back. With Jet toying with thoughts of going against us, we need to strike early. I want Jet to suffer in the worst way. No one threatens Captain Cuz Weird!

CHAPTER 2

Selector Meeting

A tall man dressed in street-casual attire stands on a cement floor next to a well-worn couch. Thank you all for coming on such short notice, he says to the others that are present in his basement.

George says, Okay. What’s this all about, Dave? I risk blowing my cover every time we meet like this.

I know. Try and relax. We’ve only had three meetings like this in the past year, and I think you’ll agree what we have to discuss is important and worthy of an immediate decision. This mission is code-named Poacher on Rye. And I’m the senior secret ops handler for this mission. With Poacher on Rye, our long-standing desire to eliminate Amicable Beast and Hellion (ABAH) unit influence on Earth and to curtail activity coming from NoWhere, specifically the demented Captain Cuz Weird’s direct control of the bank, will finally be brought to a head.

One can tell by the way George is holding his can of diet cola that it is cold. He says, Yes. I’m with you so far.

Dave says, A carefully planned series of events, beginning with the satellite imagery I’ll show you shortly, could be all that and a bag of chips. Someone sets down an empty can of soda on an end table, and some potato chips fall on the floor. Think tank members sit on easy chairs, folding chairs, and the couch, all having a clear view of the eighty-two-inch plasma screen. George remains standing, determined to keep the meeting short.

Dave clicks a remote and says, Satellite imagery shows a grizzly and three wolves moving in on a kill in Tall Timbers, which is about two hours north of Hallmark. Through our intel about ABAH and its intentions, we believe a poaching ring will be exposed on this occasion.

George cuts off Dave and asks, What’s this got to do with our objectives? The last I heard we had Jet becoming an officer with Space Turf Command. Engineering is already working on battleship designs.

Thank you, George. Always the skeptic. This new plan I’m trying to get at can be accomplished in two weeks rather than two years.

Bill, who is seated low in the old couch, says, This sounds like a handler issue.

No, it’s not, for several reasons. I also want to see Jet brought into Ultix’s fold. It helps with the timeline. Dave clicks his remote, and new satellite imagery appears on the giant plasma screen. He says, This is where Jet is now: an ocean beach in LA. The tepees and Jet’s crew are clearly visible. Our West LA chapter has intercepted LAPD directives with their radio-monitoring activities. This morning at about eight o’clock a cop will cite Jet for the twelfth time on this expedition and give him a very stern warning. By ten the crew will have cut their expedition short, and they’ll start packing their gear in this truck shown here. Dave points at the screen with his finger and then steps away a little bit. Poacher on Rye starts at this point here where the sand turns to hardtop for Jet and his crew.

A woman holding a diet cola with both hands says, That crazy space captain threatened Jet with an e-mail just moments ago. With his lust for money he’s mismanaging the whole relationship. Jet will inevitably rebel. We don’t want him to be alone in his fight.

George butts in again. Did you come up with this plan on your own? I don’t see any opportunities here that we didn’t have before.

Dave says, No, I didn’t plan this alone. Tom texted me about a Wildlife Chiefdom staff shortage just yesterday. Bill acquired the satellite footage just forty-five minutes ago. Our Chiefdom and Space Turf Command moles pieced together the scenario. It involves wolf and grizzly restocking missions, space freighters, volley jets used as projectiles, and trenidyilizer rifles used in combat. Do you need a step-by-step itemization of the plan?

George says, No, I don’t need you to spoon-feed me on this. I get it now.

Are you sure? You don’t need a Venn diagram or some study cards or something?

You don’t have to get cute.

All those in favor of Poacher on Rye with priority status say aye.

Everyone says aye.

Dave says, Okay, people, now is the time to create your to-do lists. If you handle or influence Chiefdom or STC commanders, then let’s get them working toward this goal. We only need one encoder and one disseminator to get this thing rolling. Jack and Kipp, you’re it. Get on this pronto. Jack, I want you talking to an LA field agent by 9:00 a.m.

Holding his hands out wide to the side, Dave finishes, I know this is risky. Jet could be ruined professionally, and his role as an OS could cease to exist.

*         *         *

While Jet and Duke lay around for a few minutes more, Jet realizes he’s in a talkative mood. He says, There’s no control, but I’ve had contact with my biological father. I’ve learned to take guidance from whatever is out there.

Duke says, Whatever. Forced to be, more like it. I hate that you’re so controlled by mind activity. It seems to surround you nearly constantly. You’re going to brawl. Your ass already said it.

It’s a living. Jet shrugs his shoulders. I also get tips and reassurance from my childhood friends. Selector guidance comes to me in a very similar way.

Duke says, You’re the dog. You know best when you’re the villain.

Now I’ve got the fat one on. Jet obscenely holds his hand cupped in front of his groin.

It’s legal gun toting college gradsmistro, RUSH says, joining the charade brilliantly. He blinks his eyes several times.

Selected are we, our selector collegian. Duke kicks a large, thick Bible lying in the sand and gives a quick salute.

Let’s get our records straight, Jet says with a shrug.

Duke says, You’re the badass, and you’re here to help.

Well, don’t try to control me. We’re on the same side.

I’m not groaning again. Duke looks around on the ground, possibly looking for her hoodie.

Control maestro. He takes a puff of a cigarette, then says through clouds, This isn’t my first assignment. You’re working cheap.

Duke finds her hoodie and starts to put it on. Around the clock. What’s next? she says through the thick, stretchy cotton, her arms nearly through the sleeves.

I don’t want to think about it. Duke and Jet stop for a moment when they hear logs being tossed on the campfire outside.

Jet asks, Do you want to keep wasting time?

No. You put your coffee in. Duke pretends to drink and gag on toxic swill.

RUSH jumps in. Thirty-year swell?

Secret societies have a bad name, Duke says. People fear conspiracies. I don’t want anyone to know my boyfriend is mixed up in one, but I trust Selector judgment, with what little I actually know.

Don’t say I’m your boyfriend, not until this is all over, Jet says.

Duke says, It’s an ass fuck all over again. It’s now or never if you’re really going after Cuz.

No. Don’t go. RUSH’s eyes blink alternately with blue and amber color.

You’re bent on hating. Jet doesn’t want to upset her any more than he has to. So here’s how we lay it all down.

Go ahead. I’m actually kind of curious what you think about it all.

Jet reaches for the stainless steel medication container he keeps on his key chain. He withdraws three tablets of different sizes and colors and washes them down with water. While he’s doing this, Duke says, What do you call all those yahoos?

Yahoos, he says with a smile. Or Peckerhead’s Swallow! Both Duke and Jet laugh a bit. Jet says, I have mixed feelings about it all.

CHAPTER 3

Jet on the Beach

H e’s probably finding it harder to have a good time, a woman in spandex says to her walking partner as they glide across the beach between Jet and the water.

You’re right, Jet thinks. After each citation his ability to keep a positive attitude diminishes. Jet sees the LAPD SUV driving toward him and his crew on the flat stretch of beach. Darn it! This makes number twelve.

Michael hears Jet’s frustration and says, You didn’t know there would be fines every time they told us to move, did you, Jet?

"These steep written infractions are a definite glitch in my plan. Jet on the Beach might have to be cut short. Make sure you get this on film, Omar."

About one month has passed since the welcoming banquet for you, the first publicized Mooredian alien to visit on Earth, Duke says. She flexes her right arm as if for a muscle contest. She’s not burly to the point of being grotesque. She’s just a tough veteran operant like most of the rest of them.

Omar holds the camera with one of his arms that originate on the right side of his back and adjusts the telephoto of the frame with his forward right arm. He gets good footage of the SUV with its rack of flashing emergency lights mounted on the roof.

While the group continues their fun on the beach, Jet prepares himself mentally for the SUV making its way down the shoreline. There’s something familiar looking about this vehicle. Jet is immediately reminded of the bad interactions with the police that have perpetually plagued the tepee beach trip. He knew that, once again, the police would not only tell him and his crew that they couldn’t camp on the beach but would ticket him as well. Jet had planned on having to move the tepees often, but the tickets were threatening to end the excursion early.

Omar says, Jet, take my camera.

Jet reaches out and then hesitates. Are you sure? I don’t want to break it.

You won’t break it. Quick. I want you to film me doing some narration as the SUV patrol vehicle draws near.

Okay. Jet takes hold of the camera and gets a feel for its weight. It feels heavy. It’s probably expensive.

It is expensive. Press record and point the camera at me.

Jet does as he is told.

"Hello, I’m Omar. I want to give some information about Jet on the Beach—how it was conceived and how it is going. Jet on the Beach was initially planned to be a fun adventure that would start in Southern California and end in Northern California. We planned to set up our tepees each day to attract curious people on the beach and start up interesting conversations. We hoped that attractive single women would be among the people drawn to the tepees."

Attractive females. What am I? An ugly duckling? Duke says with a fake frown followed by a smile.

Honey, you’re gorgeous, Jet says. But there happen to be three eligible bachelors on this trip. Jet smiles and holds out a horizontal open palm.

"Omar, do you go for American hotties?" Michael asks.

Yes. But I like a lot of junk in the trunk, if you know what I mean. Ha.

Is this supposed to be a family film? Michael asks.

These days filmographies can get away with a lot, Duke says.

Omar clears his throat, and Jet puts the camera back on Omar. We would film the trip along the way, and we hoped that generous amounts of humor from our nomadic beach clan would make the film interesting. Carrying the tepees and blankets while trekking up the beach anywhere from ten to twenty miles each day for a month has been a physical challenge, one that we set out for. Jet thinks being able to say that we did it is the basic reward. Having a funny video of the whole trip to sell would be icing on the cake.

Shouldn’t most of this go at the beginning? Jet asks.

We might cut and paste some, Omar says, but recapping in different words and letting the audience know what goals are still intact after all our hardships is also important.

Gabriel says, Uh, aren’t the hardships a downer? Maybe we should pass around a bowl for some quick hits or something.

There’s been plenty of that already, Omar says. Just let me take the reins for a little while, crew. I’m not totally new to filmmaking.

Yes, Omar. Continue, Jet says while swaying and jostling a little with the camera.

"Jet on the Beach was intended to be a sweeping drama about four men and one woman traveling the beaches along the California coast by foot. We have two tepees. One is a tie-dyed, fourteen-foot, Crow-style tepee. Omar stops and smiles a little while and then directs Jet, Show that tepee now please."

Jet pans the tie-dyed tepee from top to bottom and then brings the camera back to Omar.

The other tepee is an eighteen-foot, Sioux-style tepee painted with buffalo, mountains, waterways, a sun, and lightning bolts, Omar says, drawing mountains and waterways with his hands and then pointing at an imaginary sun and bringing his hands crashing down when he says lightning bolts. Jet, show that tepee now please.

Jet walks all the way around the buffalo tepee to get the entire canvas on one segment of film. Then he brings the camera back to Omar.

Omar says, Now there’s a cop car coming at us from down the beach. Show it now please, Jet.

Jet points the camera at the SUV.

Now back to me again, Omar says while turning his giant mouth into a smile once more. Jet points the camera at Omar again. More on that cop car in a minute. Now back to our story. We started in Baja California and have been able to complete approximately four hundred general coastline miles. Many times we load the gear in a vehicle that Duke follows us with and make our way north around estuaries, bays, and deltas. Duke typically drives north up the coast ten miles and sends her GPS beacon to us as we carry the tepees north on the beach. Once we’ve roughly lined ourselves up latitudinally with Duke, we send our GPS coordinates back to her. Duke then walks out to the camp using her GPS. Sometimes she carries dinner out to us, and sometimes we all walk back to the vehicle and go someplace nice for dinner. Let’s get a look at our chauffeur.

Jet points the camera at Duke and says, Thank you, Duke.

Michael says, Yeah. Thanks so much, Duke.

Omar says, Yesterday we were ticketed by LAPD. Now film the SUV.

Jet points the camera at the SUV. Both the officers get out of the rig at once, and the big guy who squeezed out of the driver’s seat says, You’re still camping on my beat! If you people are camping on the beach again after we leave, you’ll be charged with misdemeanor vagrancy, camping within twenty-two hundred feet of the ocean shoreline, and ignoring written infractions. The officer scribbles on a pink notepad and then hands Michael a pink slip of paper.

Without bothering to get Jet to film him, Omar asks, What’s the amount?

The cop says, Another hefty fine: $1,276. A little more than the last one.

Jet suddenly has an idea that he thinks will be good footage for the film. Omar, will you film me now? We need to make a decision.

The cops stand and watch the group members, who are looking a little amazed and curious.

All right. Omar takes the camera and points it at Jet.

We need to take a vote at this point, nomadic tepee clan. All those in favor of cutting the trip short say aye.

Everyone says aye.

The big officer says, You’re making a wise decision. Have a better day. The two officers get into their SUV, back up to turn around, and drive away.

Omar, did you get that part with the officer before he drove away? Jet asks.

Yes. It’s classic, Omar says, keeping the camera on the SUV as it gets smaller in the viewfinder.

Duke says, Okay. Now we should get Omar on film summarizing our bad luck.

Yes. That sounds good. Omar hands the camera to Jet.

Jet steps back and points the camera at Omar. Omar clears his throat. At this time of deciding to cut the trip short, we have traveled roughly half the coastline of California, about four hundred miles, in just under a month. Fines racked up by illegally camping on the beach total $9,623, which will be split five ways between Jet, Michael, Gabriel, Duke, and myself. Omar stops, seeming to have trouble forming his next thought.

Jet says, "We are thankful for the four hundred miles of trip footage that could still make for a nice Jet on the Beach film after editing."

Yes, exactly. Well said, Jet.

Jet looks at the tepees and then out at the coastline. Omar, can you film us while we take the tepees down one last time?

It will be my honor, sir. Omar takes the camera and waits until the crew actually starts dismantling.

Jet notices that the clan’s spirits have definitely lowered, and he wishes that he could think of something to say to cheer them up. Jet has decided that when he is down in his spirits, then his glory rider is probably also in a down mood, if there is a rider at that moment. Jet can’t tell right now. Carrying out Jet on the Beach in a fun way has become extremely difficult. It will be all that more difficult for Jet to keep his pleasantries alive if the crew lands in jail. Jet doesn’t want to be responsible for putting an archangel living vicariously through his body down in the dumps, regardless of how little that archangel and he may be attached most of the time. He avoids trying to list and clarify all the different entities that are trying to control him. Then Jet gets an idea. Are we still in agreement about the cover photo?

Michael says, I still like it. What could be more picturesque than an Atlantean prince and his sea turtle RUSH standing in front of a purple tepee on the beach?

Sure, Jet. Go for it—while the tepees are still standing, Gabriel says.

Okay, little buddy, Jet says to RUSH. Let’s get our picture taken.

RUSH’s hidden telescopic legs get him situated in front of the tie-dyed tepee, and then he props himself up, using his two back legs and jet housing like a tripod. Jet bends his legs and puts a hand on RUSH’s shoulder. How’s this, Omar?

Omar says, It’s missing something—your trident.

It’s not too much? Jet asks in embarrassment.

Michael says, Jet, it’s a little known fact that you’re an Atlantean prince. We’ll sell more videos if we let the truth be known.

Jet pulls his telescopic trident from his belt and extends it. With his left hand he holds it at an angle so it extends over the top of him and RUSH. How’s this?

Omar says, I got it. That’ll be an excellent cover. Good thinking, Jet.

"I know everyone is feeling a little down, but just for fun dream of being rich and famous as a result of publishing Jet on the Beach, Jet says, hoping everyone will get less quiet and smile again. There doesn’t seem to be any takers right away. As Gabriel removes lacing pins from the buffalo tepee, Jet says, I’m going to pay off student loans with my share."

Michael says, That’s cheap money, Jet. How about we all go partners on a Poppa Way franchise? He and Gabriel pull down the smoke-flap poles and then start unwrapping the canvas.

Omar gets excited. I could own my own business? Can you upgrade my visa for that, Jet?

I don’t know, but you’d be well suited to fast food with nine legs and four arms, Jet says while he fills his backpack with supplies.

Stop everything, Omar says triumphantly. I just had a revelation! Omar pulls out a tripod quickly, and the legs shoot out and stop with a click. Everyone pose for one last group shot!

Shit yeah! Duke says, letting her pack drop with a thud.

The group and their RUSHs all line up in front of the sagging tepees.

Now get set! Omar says. He sets the camera up on the tripod and runs on nine legs to join the group. Everyone is standing with their animal droids wrapped around their waists, hanging from their shoulders, or clinging to their feet. The RUSHs’ smiles reflect the flash from the camera, and Jet is caught off guard by the sheer magnitude of the potential impact of the great finishing group photo.

*         *         *

Zeke Selfin’s video surveillance system emits a buzzing warning, indicating some motion sensors have been triggered. Once Zeke makes it into the den, he turns off the alarm and looks at the plasma screen. The farthest northeast camera shows a pack of three wolves. Damn wolves ain’t any better than any other varmint! he says to himself.

Zeke phones his neighbor Jebediah Logan, who is about five miles north. "Get on the phone pronto. You