Jake swerved sharply to overtake a lorry, forcing Melanie to push against the SUV door to keep from leaning too far in response to the centrifugal force, to keep her head from hitting the frame. Jake's manner of driving was too fast, too dangerous, but she could not complain, she did not want to – on the contrary, she enjoyed the thrills even. Paul, on the other hand had more than thrice said; 'take it easy' and Jake would only chuckle and keep doing his thing.

Jake took a right turn into an intersection without caring to use his break. The SUV shrieked underneath them against the road and he did not mind. It seemed taunting, the smile on his face and carefree steers. It seemed that the more Paul complained, the more he obnoxiously drove dangerously, but at this particular moment, Paul did not say anymore, perhaps he'd understood that his warnings and complaints made things worse or perhaps his worry had shifted, for worse than Jake's driving style they also had three pistols in a backpack, stolen/borrowed from Dr. Shere's secret underground arsenal, and except he had a high tech system that informed him of missing items, he would not notice the three missing mediocre pistols and the magazines of what Jake convinced them to be harmless rubber bullets.

Melanie, herself, was more excited for Jake was not done with making her day. Apparently, his plans for the day went beyond showing them the gallery of fine tools, but also included using them leisurely, and for this they drove impatiently to a site suitable for such activity. Jake promised a lot of fun and adventure and Melanie appreciated that fact very much; a lot more than she would appreciate care and protection at the moment. The only worry she had, which was slight and faint, bordered about the fact that as they made that turn into a route away from main town, an eerie feeling took over her, the daunting feeling of impending tragedy and she could not tell why, but . . . she would . . . in an hour or so later. Which was why she said – jokingly; "Hmm, I hope you guys are not planning on raping and burying me somewhere in this . . . nowhere," as she ducked down to analyze their environment, to notice the trees and hills that spanned the road, showing no house or store around or up ahead. The glare of the sun almost blinded her, so she retrieved her head. "... 'cause I gotta warn you. I have a PhD in Karate."

Jake laughed and shook his head. "PhD in Karate. How do you come up with these stuffs?"

Paul's face revealed perturbation. He frowned seriously and turned to Melanie, who sat alone in the backseat; from the passenger's seat and interrogated her. "Why the hell would you say something like that?"

"What?"

"About . . . raping . . . you. That's just too weird and paints a horrible image."

"I don't get it," Melanie complained. "People from Nigeria don't know how to joke?"

Jake laughed and glimpsed at them through the rear view mirror, anticipating a little drama. Popcorn would do him so much good at the moment.

"Don't bring my country into everything I do, especially if it's something . . . unpleasant."

"So you know it's unpleasant to not take Jokes then, and you still insist on being that way, huh?"

"that's not the point." Paul's eyebrows furrowed, telling tales of his furiousness. He tried to keep from yelling. "The point is, you say things like that and it puts ideas in the minds of some folks. It paints images that sometimes stick and poke the mind continuously in settings like this;" He motioned his hand to take in their whole surrounding, which was quite . . . lonely with fewer and fewer cars passing them by. "Not everyone has near full control of what their minds are intrigued by. Some minds really have no filter."

Jake squinted and peered at Paul through the sides of his eyes, wondering if he possibly said those words because of him. He breathed nervously and this fingers tightened around the steering.

Melanie's jaw dropped and her eyes glared at Paul with an, 'I'm disgusted by you.' look.

"Paul, perhaps that means you have a psychological issue and should get checked out."

Paul was taken aback, but not for forever. He sat with bewilderment for a moment and even though Jake let out a little chuckle, he was not completely comfortable. He held his breath unconsciously and glanced at Paul, a little worry pounding him. He did not know why he was deeply worried, like Paul was going to get so annoyed that he would say something about him? Even if he eventually does, so what? It was normal, wasn't it? for him to have hormonal thoughts towards a beautiful girl that danced seductively around him the night before and undressed before him, almost, the following day. In fact, maybe the abnormal or unflattering thing was to not have such thoughts, and he believed so; but still he was worried – worried because he could not predict what Melanie would think of that. They were still just friends, and that might make her uncomfortable enough to begin to avoid him.

"or maybe it proves that I have an extraordinary mind;" Paul finally replied with a smirk and Jake let out a breath. "perhaps it shows how extra my mind goes to picture and analyze things and hold on to and process information. Perhaps . . . it is why I'm smart."

"what makes you think you're really smarter than any of us," Melanie shot back. "Just because you can join two or more wires and make a spark?"

Paul laughed so hard he threw his head back. "Well, I'm the one that got invited from halfway across the world to the greatest country in the world because of the ability of my mind. You on the other hand, are here because..." The words clogged to his throat as soon as he stopped himself, and he had to swallow it regretfully. After a moment, he said "sorry" and then turned around to sit properly and face the road ahead, away from Melanie.

"Whoa!" Jake chipped in, seemingly deeply concerned. "That's insensitive bro."

Melanie's countenance fell, and after it an awkward silence with tension followed for a moment before she said; "No. It's fine. You shouldn't have stopped mid-sentence like that though. Makes is more . . . serious and . . . live."

"Sorry." Paul repeated and Melanie shrugged.

"To be fair . . ." Jake started and the caution in his voice was tangible. "You do link everything unpleasant about him to Nigeria." He told Melanie.

Melanie nodded. "It's fine. I get it. No biggi."

"Yeah." Paul nodded, but he actually wished that Jake had shut up.

"It's okay." Melanie convinced them and Paul's heart sank. He felt stupid. He hated that he did not think it through, that he had not imagined that his words could affect her that much, especially since she joked with everything. He hated seeing her this way, unhappy and he hated himself for being the reason, for being the one to wipe the smile off her face. He glimpsed at her through the side mirror to find her staring at her hands and moving them uncoordinatedly; it broke his heart. He sighed and looked away; to the road ahead that thinned farther and farther from his vision to no destination. They cruised softly on the right side of the broken white line that marked the center of the road. Everything went by in blurs, and he sighed sadly. Where were they going anyway? It came to mind and he turned to Jake to ask, but then, on Jake's face was a smile – a mischievous smile that usually followed his misfortune, the kind of smile he got from Jake when he made fun of him for such things as when he got stuck under the bed. Something was wrong, he had missed it and he was going to pay for it any second and with the realization, his heartbeat quickened.

Quickly, he turned to look at Melanie at the backseat, but in less than a second, after catching a glimpse of her grin, blackness and pain followed. Melanie had weaponized the backpack which contained actual lethal weapons and slapped his face with it, and for a moment after, he could not see or hear a thing.

It took a moment for the confusion to clear, and as it did, he began to hear, faintly first, their loud evil cackles. Apparently, the whole shenanigan was still some sort of Joke he did not follow. His nose and lip and right eye hurt badly and Jake and Melanie thought it was funny. He held his face and blinked in confusion and pain.

"Jesus!" He yelled, not only in pain, but also in annoyance.

"uh oh." Melanie interjected and felt the backpack over with her hand to speculate the impact the heavy guns in it must have made. At the realization of what extent of pain Paul could be in, she said,, alarmingly; "Jake . . . pull over."

"Shit!" Paul yelled, still holding his face.

"uh oh." Jake too interjected as it occurred to him. "Paul's cursing. That can't be good."

"Just before the SUV came to a stop, Melanie opened the door and sprung out swiftly. He pulled Paul's door, and even before he could see her, she grabbed him into a hug, his head pressed softly to her belly and she began to say, over and over, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Over and over, whilst caressing his back.

Paul hissed in Pain, and she pulled away and bent to look at his face. She removed his hand from her face and found his right eye swollen and red and teary. It melted her heart and she cursed her roughness. With her thumb, she caressed his cheek, looking into his eyes, but Paul's eyes could barely focus on her.

"Come on." She said and began to pull him out of the car. He yelped softly in pain and followed her without questions.

She took him and entered the backseat of the SUV where they entered, and Melanie focused her whole attention on making Paul feel better. She leaned against the other door of the SUV, allowing Paul's body to use up the almost the entire backseat. She placed his head on her bosom and cuddled him lovingly as Jake moved Paul's feet further into the SUV before he shut the door, went around the SUV and entered the driver's seat again. He breathed and then was going to merely glance at the rear-view mirror, but when he saw them, his eyes got stuck there. Paul's head rested softly on Melanie's chest, and his body was wrapped in her arms like she was his baby, resting on her despite his weight, like she loved him . . . more than anything in the world, like he, Jake, did not exist next to them.

"I'm sorry." Melanie muttered again and caressed his back.

"I'm fine." Paul mumbled and was about to get up and off her, but Melanie held him back and tighter, then kissed his head and said, softly; "stay . . . just stay." And it infuriated Jake. He looked away to face the road and then stepped on the gas.

What is wrong with me? Melanie wondered and banged her head softly against the door window supporting her head. It made her feel mushy within her, holding Paul like that. It was the only thing she knew at that moment, that she wanted, every other thing was confusing. She had not hit a heavy backpack on his face because she was playing roughly. She had done so because she wanted, ever since he left her behind and walked up those stairs with Ashley. But then she did not hit him because she hated him because of that, she had hit him because something in her hoped to knock sense into him, to wake him up and open his eyes. She had hit him, not to push him away, but to have an excuse to pull him close and hold him tight to her bosom. It was not meticulously thought out and preplanned, but her instincts had lead her, and that was the only explanation. There was really no way her suffocating tight cuddle actually helped his face feel better. She just wanted to hold him and that was it; that was the only thing she was sure of – she wanted to do with him.

***

If Melanie could be honest with herself, she'd admit that her back hurt so badly that she regretted holding and supporting Paul's weight; she'd admit that she was more than relieved when Jake finally pulled over and announced, in three words; "we're here."

'Here' looked like anywhere else by the side of the road. There was seemingly nothing to be here for, as they were still surrounded by trees on both sides of the road that lead to nowhere up ahead.

"Where is here?" Melanie had asked and stretched her body, arching backwards to amend the strain Paul's weight had made on her back.

"Follow me." Jake had said unenthusiastically, but Melanie did not care to wonder what had happened to his lively chuckles and glee. He went around the vehicle and from its trunk, he pulled out a large sac which contained things that clanged. The sac was as large as a great potbelly and woven from thick strands of brown thread, and Jake lifted it with one hand and shut the trunk with the other, indicating that nothing in that sac was heavy. They clang, and like empty vessels, the sounds came off like gagged bells.

Melanie pulled on the back pack and took Paul's hand. "Come on," she said with a pampering tone, and they followed Jake; not through the road, but into the trees and bushes that lorded the left side of the road.

The short journey was a little too silent and eerie, and Melanie liked it that way. She took time to watch nature, to jump over twigs and moisty rocks and take notice of chirping birds. From a distant location she could not point to, the soft roar of raging water reached her ears and gave her a familiar feeling.

"be careful." She warned Paul, as she climbed over few wide-leafed crawling plants and Paul trailed behind. The woods was full of those plants, and they could easily seize a foot, leading someone to fall over and strike their head against a rock.

"I'm not a baby." Paul protested and side stepped the plants.

"And yet you cry like one." Melanie retorted and giggled.

Shorty head of them, Jake sighed and rolled his eyes.

Soon, they arrived in an open area, like a field with no trees, just low grasses as tall as their knees and wild flowers and mushrooms the color of red and spots of white, sprang in random places. It looked like an unkept park, the size of twice a tennis court, ending at the roots of trees at its squared edges and the foot of a hill by the right end that elevated softly onto sunset in the west. They took a moment to awe and breathe in the fresh wind that smelt like morning dew.

"Wow!" Melanie exclaimed as a cockatoo stole their attention. It was stunning white and glorious and humongous, flaunting its ribbon-like, wedding-dress-like feathers as it flew by, launching towards the clouds up ahead.

Jake smirked. "Beautiful . . . isn't it?" He remarked as he watched it disappear into the distance, and awaited Melanie's reply, but . . . it didn't come. He spun, but instead of admiring the cockatoo or the environment he brought her here to enjoy, he found Melanie holding Paul's arm and observing it with concern.

"Does it hurt?" She asked Paul, leaning over a spot on his arm.

"It – itches." Paul complained, scratching the spot vigorously and Melanie replied with a "Sorry."

Jake shook his head and marched across the grasses towards the opposite end of the arena, dragging the sac to trail behind him.

-

Soon he was done setting up the empty bottles and cans from the sac on a carefully placed log of dead wood on that end of the field, to stand by one another with adequate spacing between them.

Melanie and Paul talked in the distance with hush tones that revealed nothing to him, and he struggled to keep his mind away from them, but . . . failed. Melanie chuckled in the distance and her upper body bobbed in unison like whatever Paul was saying was extraordinarily hilarious. But Jake doubted that; Paul was not hilarious in any form and it did not look good on Melanie to flirt. It angered him, causing a knot in his stomach to tightening.

Inner peace. Inner peace.

He breathed and began to march back to them.

"Oh nice." Melanie celebrated as soon as she noticed him returning. "We are gonna be shooting those bottles down, right?"

Jake sighed; "Yes."

"Yes!" Melan jubilated with fist pumps and a – something that might be interpreted as a happy dance, something a little too child-like that involved moving the elbows in stirring motions.

Jake chuckled and took the backpack from her, from which he began to pull out the guns casually, in a manner that revealed that his hands were no stranger to these pistols.

"What if someone gets hurt?" Paul inquired, diluting Melanie's excitement. "What if I miss a short and someone in the bush gets hurt. I'm not ready to go to jail or even sent packing."

"this area is restricted." Jake replied as he loaded a magazine into a pistol and cocked it. "It has been reserved for this kind of thing and there is no one living within two miles' radius of here." He handed Melanie the first gun, said; 'Take." And began to load the next. He continued; "And besides, like I've told you already, these are rubber bullets. They are not harmful." He cocked the second pistol and offered it to Paul.

Paul eyed the dark grey pistol and was reluctant. "what if it hits your eye, the bullet. Would it still be harmless?"

Jake breathed dejectedly, and his impatience for Paul multiplied. "Like I said," He breathed for strength. "there is no one in the woods. Don't be a chicken." He almost yelled, then breathed mechanically. "Don't worry. If you hit someone, I will take the blame."

"come on, Paul, you're burning daylight." Melanie nudged him, expressing slight irritation for his hesitation with a facial expressing that pleaded and scolded at the same time with a pretty pout.

Paul took the pistol and Jake went on to ready the remaining one for himself, as Paul walked past him without any exhibition of gratitude or enthusiasm.

Paul's hand shook slightly and as Melanie took notice, she chuckled softly and thought it was . . . cute. Paul made a stance, the kind he saw on TV or in Hollywood movies with one leg slightly bent at the knees before the other, and held the pistol up, with one hand around the handle with a finger on the trigger, while the other hand held up and supported against the weight of the surprisingly heavy pistol. At a blue can of Pepsi, he aimed, his vision blurry from the right eye Melanie almost blinded with the backpack. Slowly he squeezed the trigger, pulling it back but then loud bangs rippled through the air from both of his sides, tearing his ear drums. The bangs were continuous and random and his instincts were to duck, to retrieve into a shell, because, none of the bangs came from his pistol. He had not taken a shot, even once, but Melanie and Jake may have individually made hundred shots.

Over the loud bangs, he could hear, faintly, Melanie's enthusiastic giggles, and when he turned to see the bottles and cans on the log of woods, he saw that she did not make ninety percent of her shots. She did not even aim, she did not care, she simply laughed and enjoyed the bangs that in turn, ignited immense headache in his head. It felt like the bullets were tearing through his skull.

He tried to stay calm, he tried to make a shot and managed to release about three rubber bullets from his pistol, until he could not take it anymore. He pulled back, stepping backwards away from the line of fire to a slightly calmer distance behind them. He sat on a rock and hoped it was not an ant nest or something of that sort, massaging his temple to attempt to keep the migraine from tearing his skull open.

Melanie had noticed his retreat, but was too engaged to bother herself. She had merely glanced at him when he stepped away, and continued shooting, until the bullets in her pistol finished. She had merely knocked down three out of seventeen cans off there, and she couldn't decide if to celebrate her small achievement or not. To it, she eventually shrugged, and began to walk to Paul.

Jake took notice of Melanie walking away to Paul, and tried not to mind them. He reloaded his pistol, cocked it and continued to knock down cans with far more expert shots of near six out of ten accuracy.

"What's wrong?" Melanie asked softly, and gently pushed up Paul's face by his chin.

"I have headache." Paul answered and pushed her hand away from his jaw.

"I'm really sorry." Melanie said. "I guess I really hit you hard. I feel bad."

"It's fine. Don't worry about it." Paul straightened and cleared his throat, as Jake's bullets continued to knock down the cans and bottles. "I'm not sure this is really my scene though."

"Oh, I get. Wanna get out of here?"

"No. It's fine. You guys have fun, I will wait."

"But frankly, you'd rather go. Right?"

"Well..." Paul nodded.

"Jake!" Melanie called, without a second thought. "Jake!"

"What?" Annoyance laced Jake's response.

"What are you doing?" Paul asked and Melanie paid no attention to him.

"We need to go." Melanie shouted out to Jake as he focused intensively on two last standing cans. "This is not very fun for Paul."

"So what?" Jake yelled and let out a shot that knocked down one of the cans, scooping it up from the base, sending it to spin through the wind before plummeting.

"So . . . we need to get out of here."

"why WE, huh?" Jake protested and began to stump across the grass towards them. "Why don't he get out of here and go do his thing? Why do WE have to go, because he's too good to shoot can in the bush?"

Paul frowned as he observed Jake and Melanie was left in bewilderment. "What the fuck are you talking about? The shots and the sound, they give him headache."

"Fuck that." Jake retorted.

"What exactly are we practicing for anyway?" Paul exploded, startling Melanie. "Are we going to a war or something that I don't know about; am I going to need to shoot someone soon?"

"you might!" Jake replied swiftly. "If you won't stop being so obnoxious, you might need to shoot to stop me soon."

"That won't be a problem." He muttered.

"Hold on a second!" Melanie demanded. "What?"

"Seriously, Jake?" Paul got on his feet. "Why are you so insecure?"

"I'm insecure?"

"Yea! You don't like yourself really. You are always acting like I took something from you or like I'm blocking your way, when all I did was show up at your doorstep. You don't like me, but that's not the issue. You just feel uncomfortable in your own skin when around me, just because I have superior intellect and superior achievements and principles that call yours or the lack of it; 'disgusting.'" Melanie felt cold chills and Paul continued. "But it's not my fault. I have discipline and I have strong principles and they shouldn't affect you, and yet they do. Not, because I made them to, but because..." He walked closer to Jake and poked his chest. "...You too, think you're disgusting."

"Holy crap!" Melanie exclaimed and cupped her mouth with her palms in incredulity.

Jake just stood there, completely flabbergasted, quiet and stunned, as chilling silence followed Melanie's profanity. He fumed, taking quick breaths that failed to quench his anger and pain; his body quaking, he stifled the compulsion to throw a punch.

At last, he muttered; "Fuck . . . you." And stomped away.

"Where are you going to . . . Jake?" Melanie called out to Jake as he headed into the heart of the woods, but she got no answer from him. "Jake!" She yelled, just before he disappeared into the bushes. "what the fuck just happened?" she queried no one in particular.