And then it was late October. Almost time to leave, save for a Halloween party. There was no orgy this time, at least not at Kelsey's. She'd decided to keep it quet, with only Brody, Walde, Tina, Stode, and Nate. The scariest part? It was normal. As if time had reversed, back to when Brody felt innocent. Like nothing had ever been amiss. And this, without explanation, was the very thing that seemed out of place. The orgy from before had simply been an act of desperation, Stode explained, because it had truly felt to him like 'the End of the World'. He told them he was scared for his life that month, that he was seeing things in his dreams – that he would have done just about anything before his final day. They agreed, dread can do that to a mofo. And yet somehow, when things were worse, everyone had found a sense of calm. Like it was all going to be okay, from now on. Like Christ had invisibly palmed their foreheads, on the way through the door; maybe because they'd done too good a job cleaning the semen off the wall-crosses, from last time. Stode even apologized to Tina, who told him no harm had been done – and that, in fact, she'd miss his 'six-shooter' while he was gone. Which made Stode's girlfriend rear her head back until her jaw met her neck.
"How old is she?" the girl asked.
Tina lied. "Fifteen. I'm just really small."
"Oh, okay," she said, relieved.
Brody discovered, as she slammed back a Caramel Spritz, that she preferred the chaos and teen debauchery; if for nothing more than as a foil to her self-restraint. With everyone else flipped on their behavioral polarity, now it was Brody who looked indecent. Her costume was that of a slutty, bikini-topped, bulge-thonged succubus (with wings), because she'd been expecting some kind of sexual arrangement. Everyone else was dressed like a toy aisle. Walde took Tina trick-or-treating, later to visit her place for some privacy. He, a prince, and her, a tyrannosaurus rex. Stode took his girlfriend home, dressed as a robot with a fairy princess on his arm. Kelsey was outfitted like a maid, and Nate was a smarmy gentleman – they made quite the pair, that night. And then there was Brody, jerking off in her room with the door open, hoping to Satan below that someone would walk in. And nobody did. Then, she fell asleep.

A week later, it was time to go. In early November was Brody's eighteenth birthday (the Wisconsin minimum), and she'd used her earnings from Krinjec to buy herself a used car for only two and a half grand. She was going to drive herself, Kelsey, and Nate down to Washington, so she could read her essay to the world, on-stage. And so too could she lay claim to her own pride, for having done something to defy the beast when it mattered most. Brody, however, was tense. She'd never left the state, before. She was nervous, and sick with worry. What if they got pulled over by immigrations, and wrongfully detained? What if corrupt traffic cops asked to see her license, and decided she was 'too trans to live'? What if Nate took Kelsey and left Brody alone, to face injustice? Or if one of them got hurt, or worse? Or, more likely, what if they got mugged, or robbed? But it was that, or take a plane. And Brody would not be flying Air Wumpet. It wasn't worth the risk. Just last week, another crash and claimed the lives of twenty people, in another expectable tragedy. Brody had to make sure that she and her friends weren't the next three.
Nate wasn't making it easy. He was taking Brody's skirts, to try on as she was trying to pack them.
"Stop that," Brody demanded.
"What," said Nate, "You can turn 'femboy' but I can't? Don't you think I'd look hot?"
"Get your own skirts, then," Brody complained. "And I'm a 'femboy' whether I like it or not. For you, it's a costume. For me, it's my entire life."
Nate scoffed. "Bold of you to assume it isn't mine, too. I could pull it off, y'know. I've got my grandma's eyes."
Brody glared. "You're too hairy. I shave my legs."
Nate pressed, "With a razor, or an electric buzzcutter?"
Brody threw a pillow at Nate, from the bed. Nate laughed, and Brody growled.
Kelsey walked in. "Are you guys about to do it? Cause we do NOT have time for that. We have to go, NOW."
"Yeah, Brody," Nate jeered. "Time to go-go, Bro-Bro."
Brody's ears went back. "Fine. But I'm getting an air freshener on the way. Nate smells like tortilla chips and jerkoff sweat."
Nate looked offended, and shot back, "Yeah, that's what I had for breakfast. Pack your beads up, you jewgyp. Time to GO, alright?!"
Brody scowled, and packed up the one bead necklace she owned... as well as the anal beads she kept for Kelsey. Which somehow always wound up in Nate's ass, instead.
"Yeah, wouldn't wanna forget your favourite toy," she grumbled.

Finally in the car, Brody checked the rearview mirror to see Nate loading the trunk from behind, and Kelsey in the passenger side. Which was also their plan for what to do, once they got to their first hotel room. Not that Brody seemed to have much of a say in these things, lately. Kelsey seemed to spend more time on Nate's feelings than Brody's, or even her own. Nate climbed in the back, and Kelsey turned to look at him, then turned back with a warm smile. Brody, feeling jealous, made sure to start the car before he'd clicked his seatbelt. She wasn't reckless enough to speed out of the driveway, but she was pernicious enough to want him slightly anxious. Kelsey's parents waved them goodbye, and went back inside. Brody drove off, toward destiny.

They stopped at a diner, a half-hour west. Brody ordered pancakes, Kelsey eggs and PB&J on toast, and Nate a plate of bacon and waffles. He joked about it being a 'blue waffle', because it had blueberry syrup. Nobody laughed, so he coughed very loudly and complained about the 'burnt, shitty coffee'. And it was, in all honesty.
That was when two strange men entered the restaurant, in sunglasses and leather jackets, with mud-stained jeans. Bikers. One was Native or Asian, six feet tall, with a wide chest – he was admittedly handsome, clean-cut, and strong-bodied. But his face was covered in scars and scabs, likely from harder drug use – it was a telltale sign of meth addiction. He looked like a jacked-up American K-Pop star, post-crashout. The other was an older fellow, of greasy grey beard and black bandana. He was in even worse shape, coughing so hard his liverspots and skintags shook. He sported a ripped shirt which read 'I FOUGHT IN 'NAM', but like the shirt itself, that story looked full of holes.
"Do you stare at everyone in a restaurant?" Nate asked.
"Oh, shit," Kelsey hissed, and turned red. "Those are my old dealers," she whispered, "play it cool."
"Your what?" Brody asked, confused.
Kelsey covered her face with her hands. "It was from before we met... I was like, fourteen. They'd spot me coke, and I'd pay in uhh..."
Brody paused, and then her heart skipped a beat. "Not the old one," she dared to hope.
Kelsey grinned awkwardly. "Not... usually?"
Nate almost choked on his waffle. "What the fuck- you mean that old geezer got inside you before -I- did?!"
Kelsey grew embarrassed. "No, I just..." She made a handjob gesture. "He'd ask for a blow, and I'd give him back a bump as a joke. It always got me out of it. Then I'd suck off the other one, instead."
Nate shook his head, holding his fork and knife pointed up with indignation. "And did you wash your hands?"
Kelsey stared at him, incredulous. "In the last four years??"
He stared back. "For shame."
Brody lost her appetite, but kept eating. Then she recognized the scab-faced young man. "Wasn't he at the End of the World party?"
Nate turned back to look. "Ohh yeah! He was the one railing Brody's mouth too, when I was pounding the back. I thought he looked familiar."
Then, the two men took notice. They, already having been seated, stood up to leer over the table.
"Well, well, well," said the older fellow. "Fancy seeing you here, little miss."
"Yuuup, hey Geoffert," Kelsey groaned.
"Nate," said the young man, pointing to Nate. Then to Brody. "Broseph?"
"Brody," she replied.
"Delvin Wolfe, nice to meet you." He offered his hand for a shake.
Brody shook it. "I've sucked your dick, Delvin. We've met, I just didn't catch your name."
Delvin blushed. "Oh, so that was... yeah, I remember now. I didn't recognize..."
"Mighta caught summin' else, though!!" Geoffert laughed. "Watch yer lip, there, miss! Case ya get a cold sore or somthin'. HAHA!!"
Brody forced a laugh.
"Look," Delvin said with strained pleasantry. "I know we told you we were all square, but..."
Kelsey's face turned afraid. Brody's stomach dropped. Nate ate his waffles and bacon.
"Frankly," Geoffert said with his hands on his hips, "Times are harsh. President Wumpass ain't done shit, side from kickin' out all our Mexican farmers. An' Waiter fucked the pooch last term, tryna hand over the seat to a damn woman. Honestly, I hate 'em all. Fuck politics, right?"
"Right..." Kelsey tried to follow.
"But," Delvin continued, "We need the money. And you uh... well, you helped us out with some things."
"So we heard," Nate grunted, brows raised. He chomped through a crisp of bacon, as loudly as he could seem to manage.
Delvin offered, "Give us three grand, and we'll call it square. Honestly, you racked up twice that much and then some."
Geoffert leaned over Kelsey, looking hungry. "I did the math, once. Summin' like six-thousand, six-hundred, sixty... two. Just like the number of the beast, cause girl, you snort like you've got seven heads. How's about you lend me one? I can knock your tab off by a couple hundred."
Kelsey whimpered. "I don't... I can't... I only have five hundred in my account."
Brody knew Kelsey had put the rest away, for college. She was about to speak, when Nate piped up instead.
"That's okay," he smacked through the last of his waffle. "Brody has money, right? Five grand, don't you?"
Geoffert looked astonished. "On you? In cash?!"
Brody glared at Nate, eyes furious. "It's for the trip. We'll have to get back to you guys later, when it's over. I'll help then."
Geoffert asked, "Oh, where you guys headed?"
"Califor-"
"Washington," blurted Nate.
Brody scrunched up her face, and cursed Nate with held breath, then a deep inhale.
Delvin leaned over the table, and Geoffert backed off. Then Delvin revealed the gun on his hip. "We'd prefer it now. Is it in your account? Does your card have tap?"
Tap, referring to a wireless transfer, so they could steal her debit card and use it as they pleased until three grand (or more) could be dripped from her daily limit. As if she wouldn't just cancel it and have the charges reversed. Tap, like what Brody's fingers were doing on the table, as she weighed her options. Tap, like the dripping faucet behind the counter. Tap, tap, tap.
Brody started to say, "Look, we can't just-"
Then Nate took Delvin's gun, much to everyone's surprise, and shot Geoffert in the chest. The shocked old man seized on the ground, and died there. By the time Delvin grabbed Geoff's gun to retaliate, Brody, Kelsey, and Nate were gone. And so was Delvin's gun.