Flicking the television off, Mac peered through his thermal scope at Hannah, sitting thousands of yards away on the couch—yet another brand he couldn’t pronounce. Hannah met his gaze.

  He played at puzzlement at what they just watched, scratching his stubble. “Hmmm?”

  She smirked back through her drying tears. Then it grew into a stunning smile fit for a red carpet premier at that one Chinese theater in Hollywood as her freckles ionized: a Chernobyl-level meltdown of laughter. In vain, Mac worked triple overtime to scram his own runaway giggle reactor before all the coolant boiled away, but it was too late; the catastrophic reaction had already been set in motion. The moment of truth was upon them: BOOM!

  Mac stopped his dying for a few heartbeats, catching his breath before interjecting with “PATROL CAR!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?”

  She wiped away an eye booger, catching her own, preparing for another round of losing it. “Yeah, like, whattheFUCK? Hahahahahahahaha! I had no IDEA we were watching that from the CHEAP SEATS. That’s an INSANE way to go. And the eyewitness? INSTANT LEGEND. I’m a little jealous… And here I was, crying my heart out to a guy I barely even know—” Hannah turned away from Mac and faced the wall, cupping her face.

  The moment passed. “Feeling better?”

  “A little…” Hannah sniffled.

  Fwooshing a tissue from the box on the side table, Mac awkwardly closed the distance, the jet black leather creaking with every scoot, to hand it to her. Without turning, she grabbed behind herself as Mac placed it in her waiting hand. Psheeeeew! Hannah blew her nose.

  “That’s a relief. Man, if one of CG&E’s hit squads rolled up on us while we were just standing there with our mouths open, watching all that go down… It would have been rough.”

  “You’re right. I better be in tip-top shape if we’re to stand any chance. But still, to do all that in a PATROL CAR…” She chuckled, but covered her mouth this time to stop before things went nuclear again. It worked. For now.

  She’s really pretty when she laughs… No. Stop. Have some situational awareness for once, will ya? Bounty hunters and corporate ninjas are AFTER US, dude. You are in for a LOT more hurt if you get involved with her any more than you need to be. If you mess with that shit, that is GUARANTEED to lower our chances of survival.

  But Mac wanted to talk about her second point more anyways: it was the shit cherry on top of an EXTREMELY no-good, very bad day, and he always started with the best part first. Setting up three paces back and two to the left, one second remaining and the game on the line, he lined up a “routine” 24-yard chip shot from the left hash.

  “Good snap and hold…” Mac was back on the field, a crisp Friday evening in early November, the PA announcer’s call ringing in his ears once again.

  Running up like he was revving up Fred Flintstone’s car, and with all the rhythm of a middle school orchestra’s percussion section, he prayed as he thundercunted a wild boot through the ball.

  YAAAAAAAAAAH!

  “Zooweemama!” he blurted.

  “McGuire SLIPS AS HE KICKS IT!”

  Hannah glowered at Mac for a nanosecond.

  “AND IT BOOMS OFF THE UPRIGHT! NO!”

  But the dam at her mouth cracked as it gave way to the deluge.

  “Wait… IT’S GOOD!? The Bullfrogs win? OH MAH GAWD! THE BULLFROGS WIN!”

  “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Hannah’s sides crumbled into a billion pieces.

  “SALT PONDS HIGH SNATCHES AWAY THE LAST PLAYOFF SPOT FROM THE MOUNTAINEERS AT THE DEATH IN A MASSIVE UPSET! They’re back for the first time in SIXTEEN YEARS! Nineteen points down at the half, ARE YOU KIDDING ME! DAVE MCGUIRE RISES FROM THE ASHES right when they needed him the most! Zero for two on the night until the last chance, but he DOINKS IT IN on JUST ABOUT THE MEATIEST SHANK TO EVER BE CALLED GOOD! AND HIS CLASSMATES ARE RUSHING HIM! WOW! Talk about ZERO TO HERO! That’s HEART ATTACK MAC FOR YOU! Final score: Mountaineers 19, YOUR SALT PONDS HIGH BULLFRAWWWWWWGS 21!”

  Mac let the memory fade, just enough to hear the real thing. Laid out next to him on the couch and grabbing her belly in stitches, Hannah’s jingles of joy robbed his attention like a sweet tune being blasted to their fifth-floor window from an old-timey boombox on some lover boy’s shoulder standing on the street below. For now, that was enough: having this crowd of one deafen him. He smiled softly.

  I guess it WAS just really that unbelievable, these last 24 hours. Why not take my fifteen? I sure as hell need one right about now.

  ---

  He hated to admit it, but Mac slept the best he had in years on Hannah’s—Le Corbusheeay? Ah, fuck it. It’s really comfy—couch. As he awoke, he could have sworn that Hannah was sneaking peeks at him through her computer glasses from the dining table as she typed away on her laptop, her fingers moving a million miles an hour.

  How does she even do that? She’s not even looking at the keyboard. I can only do the thing with two fingers and I gotta look down.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Holding a hand in front of his mouth, he yawned and reached for the sky like an outlaw from the Wild West as he erupted from his fortress of blankets and pillows that were just the softest.

  “That was an amazing sleep,” he stretched again, this time testing his control surfaces with a quick shake of the yoke and a shimmy of the pedals before rocketing off into the stratosphere, blasting the amazingly plush blanket and pillows from his leather launchpad.

  Not even looking up from her screen, she gestured him over. “You’re up. Good.”

  Mac stifled another yawn and brought his arms skyward again as he lazily walked over to her.

  “Got something for you… WILL YOU PLEASE PUT A GODDAMN SHIRT ON!? It’s distract—” Hannah paused, her face squirming.

  With a fist in front of her mouth, she cleared her throat and changed the subject. “Why are you… kinda jacked?”

  “Used to play football in high school… I was the kicker, but I wasn’t that great…” Mac reminisced as he picked up a black athletic shirt from the couch and wiggled into it.

  Outlier, huh? I can pronounce that brand, at least. She certainly is… He walked back.

  Hannah bit her lower lip for a half second before continuing. “A-ah, I see.”

  Was that…? No. I’m seeing things. I need some coffee… But those glasses frame her face just ri— Anyways, need some coffee.

  “Uhh, anyways… Got something for us to do today. Low-risk. Training wheels.” Then her eyes widened, as if she remembered something. “Wait. Did you say kicker? You weren’t that great? What high school did you go to?”

  “Uhh… Salt Ponds?”

  In an instant, Hannah’s vivid, gray eyes widened to the widest Mac’s ever seen them. “YOU’RE HEART ATTACK MAC!?”

  Mac cracked up with with restraint: one sharp huff, held back from going all the way out. “Yeah! How’d you know?”

  Realizing she was in the presence of the legend himself, she bowed. “HOLY. SHIT. It really is you. I was a cheerleader for Mt. Hamilton Prep! Man, I was so CRUSHED we lost to a kick like that… you couldn’t even hit a damn extra point that night. I wanted to laugh my ass off while crying in frustration then and there, but I couldn’t: I was the GODDAMN CHEER CAPTAIN! I still remember you slipping like you stomped on a banana peel and screaming ‘YAAAAAAAH!’ as you put your foot through it, aiming for the moon like you were the protagonist of some C-tier shonen anime! Didn’t know back then how thrilling a simple chip shot could be, but you made it look like PEAK comedy! And then your classmates rushing you all clad in cream and swamp green, like the football gods PUKED all over the field, chanting ‘HEART ATTACK MAC! HEART ATTACK MAC!’ as they slapped you on the helmet… Shit was pretty much the climax to some MEGA SCUFFED high school movie! Sometimes, I wish we could go back to those days… Hahahahahahahahaha!”

  “Hahahahahaha! Oh man, that’s one of my greatest memories! You really reminded me twice today!” Mac puffed out his chest as he grabbed his sides, letting out a rumbly, booming rev bomb from his diaphragm.

  She stopped laughing, now intrigued. “Twice?”

  Scratching the back of his head and looking at Hannah while casting his gaze towards the floor, he confessed to his crime. “Oh yeah… This morning, when we just finished watching that news report about that totally insane car crash you cried over when we were out on that walk… Accidentally reminded ourselves again that we were in a real jam. I was just… a little tired from the night before and wanted to take a little break from it all. Plus, it looked like you wanted to laugh at it a little bit longer. So I just dialed that zinger up so we could both win. And when you glared at me, I thought I fucked up again, but then you started disintegratin’ once more, and then…”

  Her eye twitched.

  Mac offered a sheepish grin in return. “Just was trying to make you laugh again so you could laugh it out some more and I could take a breather, that’s all. When I almost fucked it but still managed to pull it off, it just… kinda reminded me of way back when.”

  “Oh… gimmeasecIgottausethebathroomrealquick.” She chugged the remainder of her glass of water down and hustled to the toilet holding her cheeks, slamming and locking the door.

  Is she okay? Better check on her.

  The sink ran for a long minute. Splash, splash, splash. Silence.

  “Hannah?”

  “Just realized…” A few seconds passed. “I forgot to brush my teeth this morning. Got embarrassed when I realized that I was talking to you with bad breath.”

  Running the sink like that? Is that just some rich people habit or something? Must be.

  “Oh. Okay. Let’s get to work once you’re ready?” Mac asked.

  “… Yeah.”

  ---

  Blown back by the 110 mile-an-hour winds on 101, Mac ran a hand through his hair as he hopped off the back of Hannah’s bike. He snapped his signature beat-up trucker hat off his belt loop and put it back on, pinching the brim and shimming it out until it fit just right.

  “Yo, that was sick! You were ridin’ hella fast,” Mac shouted at Hannah, unaware that he’d been temporarily deafened.

  Hannah chuckled and mouthed some words.

  What did she say? She’s speaking awful quiet.

  He leaned towards her and cupped his ear. “WHAT?”

  Hannah mouthed some more words, more animated now.

  She’s trying to speak up but it’s like she got shy or something. Maybe I’m just that hot?

  “WHAT?”

  A long awkward pause. Then Hannah took a deep breath and sighed.

  Oh fuck, she’s mad. Did I do something again?

  She grabbed his wrist as if Mac was a schoolboy up to no good and dragged him down Lakehaven Drive toward the principal’s office. Hannah covered her face with her other arm, the crook of her elbow centered on her mouth like she had some enigmatic superhero’s cape draped from it. She walked them down the street once, failing to point the destination out of the lineup of piss-stained white, run-down, two bedroom, one bath shacks that touched both horizons. Circling back, she found it and led them up the driveway.

  “We’re here,” Hannah said.

  This time, Mac heard her voice, ringing as clear as church bells. “Oh finally, you’re speaking normally again. Why’d you do your best Batman impression when you were dragging me here? Were you trying to make me laugh as well? ‘Cause it’s working. Heheh!”

  He cleared his throat and mocked Hannah before tittering like Beavis. “I’m Batman. Uhuhuhuhuhuh!”

  A bolt of lightning hit her copper rod as she straightened her spine, standing taller than ever, as if she was a curious toddler having a mishap with a stun gun. She shook it off before speaking. “It’s… Never mind. It’s nothing.”

  She kinda acts like she watched too many of those Japanese cartoons as a kid… Maybe she was one of the weird ones. A weird cheer captain? Feel kinda bad for her if that’s the case…

  She rang the doorbell, and a hidden Ring 20 mm camera-turret deployed from the ceiling of the covered porch. It spoke to her. “What’s the NEW password?”

  Hannah sighed, and then giggled a little. “Patrol car.”

  The turret intercom started crackling with a woman’s howls. It went on for fifteen seconds. Then the woman on the buzzer cleared her throat.

  “Hannah, dear, come on in! You’re a little late, but that’s okay. I’m not too busy today, and it sounded like you needed something done quick. I KNOW what that means: A BIG PAYDAY FOR TAR, BABY! COME TO MAMA!”

  Whiiiiiiiiir. The autocannon over Tar’s door retracted into its housing. Clack! Clack! Clack! Thunk! Slide, slide, slide, latch! Tumble. Tumble. Tumble. Psooooh! The door cracked open and they walked in.