“You’re just an old War-haiad!” Gun repeated. “Whatever goes around comes around, that’s all I know.”

Police lights continued whirling in the background. Feeling like it was my turn to either leave or participate, I chimed in. “Other countries want fancy weapons even more than they want our food or medicine.”

“The leaders do,” Carl replied in my direction as if mine was a good comment. “They don't care if people starve.” Sweat beaded on the scalp around his Hammerhead shark cap.

Across the channel people began focusing spotlights at The Rapture's hull to check for crash damage. Such a contrast between the poor refugee spectacle and the urgent priorities of wealthy types.

“Leaders only care about one thing, keeping their power,” said Gun.

Carl made an excited expression. “And, nothing says ‘Power’ better than nice weapons!” He held up what looked like a sawed-off spear gun with two barrels. “She’s brand new. Shoots bolts.” He admired the shiny gun. “You like?”

Jim sucked his cheek. “Sure. Not bad. But, how about them newfangled weapons the government’s working on, eh? Electron beams. Conquer the world with those things!”

“Damn!” hollered Carl. “Everyone’s looking to get those things!” He adjusted his cap again and wiped more sweat. “I know someone who’d pay big money.” He winked like it was joke, and practiced aiming his new pistol at a police boat or the flailing Haitian refugees it was chasing.

“They already used something like those ‘electron beams’ in Iraq,” Gun replied, tuning up his guitar. “Why do you think it cost so much to rebuild the place?” He played a chord. “They fried all the transformers and generators in the country.”

Carl loaded spear-type darts into his gun barrels. “That’s two different weapons you’re talking about,” he pointed out.

“How do you know?” Jim inquired like he was both annoyed and interested.

“Two different weapons? Oh, I don’t know…” Gun spoke in a quiet tone. “What’s the difference, two new weapons, ten new weapons? It’s all the same problem.” He quickly twisted a guitar screw and began picking notes.

But, Jim stood up and wagged his finger. “What our fighting boys need most is a weapon to knock out these improvised bombs. That'd put a big dent in terrorism, by God.”

I jumped in again, “Even better would be something that blew the bombs back up in their faces!”

“Yippeeee Yay-Yo!” bellowed Gun.

“Count me in on all those new weapons, you know me!” Carl laughed, and ratcheted back the firing mechanism on his sawed-off spear gun. He aimed over the side, and fired a shot into the water. “Missed her…lucky little fish.”

Gun sighed. “I don’t know about this trip. Someone’s looking for weapons of mass destruction…someone else is hunting for treasure…another guy wants sex and adventure.” He stared at me and shook his head pessimistically but almost amused, too, like he was ready for anything coming over the horizon.