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The group maintained a daily patrol of the shore. They chose their way carefully over the rocks, watching several dozen women swimming out in the deep water. There was no fear of invasion, as Clark assumed the patrol was for. The waves crashed, and the group clambered over the last rocks before the beach and spotted a business man on his knees in the sand frantically burying something in a pile of paper dollars. The man jumped to his feet and stumbled backwards, fingers taut. The women, having completed their lap stormed out of the water and tore the man apart and flung his guts into the sea.
"Oh nasty." Said the man next to Clark sarcastically, speaking for all. They watched, and pulled the draw strings on their matching windbreakers tighter against the whipping spray. "dude was bug-ging." "Everybody takes drugs at the beach, asshole." "this isn't even about drugs" "Easy on the name calling, Jared." Cautioned Clark.
They took Clark's mis-step as a chance to pin down the voice of reason. Even the so called asshole he had been defending joined in and held Clark's nose so they could fill the prescription.
Later, in the dark under a tree, thirty meters above the fire, Clark hugged his knees. Every few seconds licking the bloodmucus that collected on his stubbled upper lip as it pulled from his nose.  He tried to ask what progress had been made.  An attempt at fitting in, making the small talk that was once the secret code of union. Trying to show them he still knew and trusted the good old way. Ross, who instead of minding him as was his charge, watched jealously as the naked women below strangled the surrendered enemies with their strong tanned legs.
"Did we make it w- w- with the weather like that?" Clark stuttered explosively. "I, I... I was... The rocks, uh... ah, To-Tomorrow we can, uh... do, you, you, you, you." Ross ignored the projectile spackles of blood and snot that caked on his shoulder from Clark's phatic misconduct.
This is a new day, Ross thought to himself.   Old tones and rules of belonging are stalling us, the faster they're unlearned the sooner we'll be welcomed into the silvery space cannons.
Clark was vomiting quietly now. The spasms subsided and his tongue ceased its fruitless tidying. Blood mixed with the puke that flowed peacefully and effortlessly down his slack jaw. The distant fire warmed the fear frozen in his eyes and as it melted, his knees pumped like an nyewly emyerged monarch pumping the juice into its wings.  His legs relaxed slowly to the ground and folded into a comfortable half lotus.  Leaning forward he put his face into the bowl of water Ross had placed before him hours earlier. He washed his face, getting his fingers in around his eyes, he felt good. With his wet hand he ruffled up the hair on the back of his head. "Total babe alert" he quipped. Ross smiled and stood up. "About time asshole."
Shedding their cloths they joined the women around the fire. The waters rose to answer their prayers and then the sun evaporated all, leaving a desert planet covered in wart-looking stone towers. As it orbited it bragged and showed pictures on its divine refrigerator.
The water would look back, wishing it could have brought the rock along, signing checks year after year, and quipping to nobody in particular, "I hope I don't wind up in a home."
Amen