It was yet another ordinary day in Malibu Beach. The sun had risen that morning as it always had, clearing the trees and bathing Malibu Beach in bright, warming sunshine. The waters of the Pacific were warm and depthless blue, a welcome invitation to mid-morning sunbathers and swimmers. All the indications led Mike to the conclusion that things were continuing as they always had. Everything, Mike thought, except us. He reached up and scratched the back of his neck. We ain’t never gonna be normal again.
“Are you still fretting about that?” Peter said, coming out on the veranda to join him. “Come on, Mike. It’s been almost a month.”
He sighed and turned around, sliding gracefully down into a half-lotus position without thinking. “I know. And we’re . . . aw, hell, Peter. I can’t help it.” He leaned his head against the rail and heaved a sigh from the depths of his soul.
“If I were you, I’d probably say something like ‘Dwelling on it won’t change the fact that it happened, and now we have to live with it the best we can.’” Peter sat down across from Mike, kneeling and sitting back on his heels.
Mike looked at him and sighed. “I really really hate it when you throw my words at me,” he said, but his voice was fond.
Peter smiled. “Yeah, but they’re usually pretty good, aren’t they?”
Mike chuckled and stood up. “Trouble is, how do we live with it the best we can? All I can think about is that closet.”
“Then why don’t we get rid of the stuff in there?”
“What are you, nuts?” Mike squeaked. “And leave us defenseless in case we’re attacked?!”
Peter’s smile slowly faded into a knowing look. “Then you’re just answered your own question. We need those things, so we have to incorporate them into our lives. I’m surprised you still think about it.”
Mike sighed and crouched down beside him. “Truthfully, I don’t all the time. I have my moments, though.” He scratched his neck again. “I just have this really creepy feeling.” He sighed. “Like something’s about to happen.”
Peter frowned. “I don’t like the sound of that . . . ” Especially in light of their heightened instincts.
“I don’t like the feel of it.” Mike shivered. “My flesh has been crawling since I woke up this morning.”
Peter shivered. Now that Mike mentioned it . . . “Where are Micky and Davy?”
“Where else? Double dating.” He looked at Peter and his eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me—”
“Tell you what?”
“You too? You feel it too?”
“Yeah, now that you mention it. I just . . . maybe we should ask them if they feel anything.”
As if on cue, Davy walked in. “Guys? Guys, are you all right? My skin’s crawling like a serpent!”
Peter couldn’t suppress his grin. “See what I mean?”
Mike walked out to where Micky was puttering around. “Mick—have you felt, well . . . odd?”
Micky looked up. “Like odd how?”
“The closet—like we’ll have to—” He gestured wordlessly.
Micky shrugged. “Yeah, but you’re just gonna tell me how important it is that we don’t go around showing how tough we are, so . . . ” He trailed off.
“Mick, I need you to tell me these things.”
Micky sighed. “I’ve been jumpy, like something’s just around the corner, I—wait a minute; you’ve been feeling it too?”
“So has Peter. So has Davy.”
“So we’re all feeling this? What does that mean?”
“Be ready. For anything.”
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