Page 31 of Nearly Roadkill: Queer Love on the Run
NARRATIVE ENTRY, JABBATHEHUT
“Walls?” Shelly calls over to Lieutenant Budge.
“Yep?”
“It’s a theme,” she murmurs, checking several screens.
“Whaddya mean, theme?”
“They’ve been on all these bypasses, which is why it took Typhoid Mary so long to find them. All the so-called locations have the names of amusement parks.”
“So?”
“So, find the amusement park, find the location. Typhoid Mary found New York, that would mean…”
“Coney Island!” Budge erupts.
“Exactly, handsome.”
“So that would mean…” Budge struggles with his thought. “That would mean that other amusement park that popped up, what was it?”
“Six Flags in California,” comes the reply.
“… is not where they are. But…” and here he gives a raspy chuckle, “Henderson doesn’t know that.”
“Ooh, Wally, that’s evil!” But she’s purring.
At last, he will have Scratch and Winc himself. Now all he has to do is invite them to a room to have a little chat. Separately. For the classic game of “guess what your accomplice told me.”
END JABBA NARRATIVE ENTRY
TOOBE ENTRY
FUNNY OF THE DAY
Toobe, Scratch, and Winc are living underground with an entire computer node at their fingertips.
They are safe, protected by a group of foreign legionnaire types prowling the premises.
Be on the lookout for repeating patterns: waterfall references, pronoun deception, and good sex.
54% of the Young Libertarians Alliance has enjoyed congress with both Scratch and Winc, and a few conversations with Toobe.
Please report all sightings to this node, as we vow to protect the fugitives to the best of our ability.
—Dennis
It’s good that they’re on our side, but it’s all lies and they don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about.
Scratch and Winc have each gone back to their own caves to nurse their psychic wounds. They are still not speaking to each other. It’s been over a week. I got back to Gwynyth’s with no trouble.
I can see why it’d be hard when somebody suddenly becomes a he or she if you’ve known them in the free zone of ze .
They each blame themselves for the fight.
Perfect for each other. Gwynyth still says not to worry; they need this time to think.
If they could meet in some chat room, I think they’d be fine. But they refuse.
And Winc and Scratch still write to me.
Here’s just one of the letters Scratch has sent me:
To: Toobe
From: Scratch
Subj: Dummy
Toobe, my man, I’m an idiot. I asked for something, I got what I asked for, and now I’m running away from it. Not to whine, but it ain’t a great time in the world to be unusual, and as you have seen for yourself, I’m anything but usual.
I’m not one of the cool kids, I wear big shoes, I sleep with whoever turns me on but mostly only online. I’m in love with somebody who looks like a woman but kind of looks like both. What a dream come true, eh? What did I do with that? Took a great big breath, and ran the fuck away.
Easier to be a freak all alone, at least you’re carrying your own suitcases. When you’ve got someone else with you it’s less lonely but your feelers extend to them now, you get protective and controlling and anxious and worried.
I’m back in my stupid apartment, just like I wanted. There’s dust over everything, real-time sunlight streams in, illuminating all that is dingy. Instead of a happy Spring feeling, it merely points up the pitfalls of the Real.
I miss hir. I wouldn’t have even noticed this crummy apartment last week. I would have jumped online and talked to my Winc.
Am I nothing without interacting with another? Me, who loves to be alone more than anything? Now that I’m *there* I don’t truly know who I am.
I am Scratch to the mailman, Scratch to the woman I buy cigarettes from, and Scratch to Winc.
To you. To Gwynyth even. And without them I am Scratch to myself, whoever the hell *ze* is: stubborn, boring, unwilling to stretch, unable to make connections fire in my brain, unable to even pee without commenting on it.
Big talker all right.
Me, scared of this person? Smoky eyes and a laugh like music even when it was shaking with fear?
Me, not willing to walk down the street with a creature whose gender slips like a failing clutch?
Me, with the short hair and the wide hips and the mannish walk, the one who makes the bad guys uncomfortable and the ladies curious?
Me, what exactly do I have to protect?
—S.
END TOOBE ENTRY
NARRATIVE ENTRY, JABBATHEHUT
Wally Budge is nervous. This is his first face-to-face with the entity known as Scratch.
*** You are in room “White Flag” ***
Scratch: ::drumming fingers on tabletop:: You’re late!
Ms. Budge: Let me guess: You’re not really on the Santa Monica boardwalk, are you?
Scratch: What’s it to you?
Scratch: And what makes you think I wanna talk?
Ms. Budge: If I were you, I’d want to know as much about who’s chasing me as I could.
Scratch: OK, here’s a starter. I thought you were a guy.
Ms. Budge: Look, it was a screwup when I Registered, OK? I *am* a guy.
Scratch: Whatever you say, Miss Thing.
Ms. Budge: Ha ha. You haven’t been hanging out with your pal recently, have you?
Scratch: Why the hell are you after us?
Ms. Budge: Don’t you read the papers? You’re America’s Most Wanted.
Scratch: Yeah but why?
Ms. Budge: All right, good place to start. No matter what you say, the law says I can’t hold you to it anyway.
Scratch: Oh, gee, now I’ll tell you everything you want to know.
Ms. Budge: Hey, give me a break, will you?
Scratch: ::softly:: you’re after me, Mister, why should I give you a break?
Ms. Budge: OK, OK, just answer me this… please.
Scratch: ::heavy sigh:: Oh, ga.
Budge is about to ask what “ga” means but turns to his dog-eared manual instead. Christ, the sign deaf people use for “go ahead.” He makes a note: cross-reference “Deaf.”
Ms. Budge: Are you now or have you ever been involved in any kind of trafficking in pornography?
Scratch: No!
Ms. Budge: Thought not. OK, next question…
Scratch: brb.
Scratch has left the room.
Ms. Budge: Damn!
He looks up “brb” in the manual. Scratch will “Be Right Back.”
Scratch has entered the room.
Ms. Budge: Hey, where’d you go?
Scratch: Just checking to see if this is being traced. Good cop.
Ms. Budge: The best. I’m being straight with you, Scratch.
Scratch: Uh huh. Next question?
Ms. Budge: Are you now or have you ever been involved in any kind of trafficking in the distribution of illegal access bypass code?
Scratch: Define illegal.
Ms. Budge: Ha! Good thief. OK: bypassing Registration. That’s technically a crime, and I can charge you with it.
Scratch: I refuse to recognize “Registration.” Sodomy isn’t recognized by the govt either, but it’s done, isn’t it?
Ms. Budge: Um, OK. All right—last question, and it’s the tough one. Are you now or have you ever been involved in hurting the kid in any way?
Scratch: What kid?
Ms. Budge: Toobe. The kid. The boy.
Scratch: ::face steaming up, red as hell:: You guys got nasty minds. I’d do *anything* for that “kid.”
Ms. Budge: OK, calm down. I had to ask.
Scratch: Where the fuck do you get your info? Why aren’t you going after real bad guys, like politicians and rapists?
Ms. Budge: My job is to go after you.
Scratch: So bypassing Registration is my “crime”? You’ve been chasing us for something you “suspect”?
Ms. Budge: I can get you on illegal trafficking of code, but the laws on that are so fuzzy, you’ll probably get off.
Scratch: And how do you get off, sir?
Ms. Budge: I don’t understand your question.
Scratch: Forget it.
Ms. Budge: Look. No one can prosecute you, let alone convict you. Come on in.
Scratch: So your only job is to chase people you suspect of keeping to themselves, and maybe just maybe committing crimes online, which is an unreal world in which nothing that happens is real.
Ms. Budge: Afraid it’s better than that.
Scratch: Yeah?
Ms. Budge: We’ve got warrants out for you and Winc.
Scratch: Why?
Ms. Budge: You were the one in the cute flower print dress at Coney Island, am I right?
Scratch: No, I was the big Black dude you’re so afraid of in your dreams.
Ms. Budge: If you keep hiding out I’m gonna have to add “Resisting Arrest.” I won’t like it, but I’ll do it.
Scratch: Why are you talking to me if you have a warrant?
He doesn’t have an answer to that. The screen scrolls blank after Scratch’s question.
Scratch: I think you want to know something else.
Ms. Budge: You interest me. You’re something/someone I don’t have a handle on.
Scratch: What’s so mysterious? brb.
Ms. Budge: Why do you DO this? DAMN! He’s gone again.
Scratch has left the room.
Scratch has entered the room.
Scratch: Good cop, no tracer.
Ms. Budge: Told you. It’s just me and you.
Scratch: Tell me: Is there a crime in having different IDs?
Ms. Budge: There’s no legal precedent for that, no.
Scratch: So why go along with it then? Do you really believe we’re breaking the law?
Ms. Budge: Too much around me changes all the time. I like things stable.
Scratch: That’s why you’re a cop. Good guys, bad guys, real clear lines.
Ms. Budge: You think because I like things nice and slow and predictable I’m a bad guy?
Scratch: No, I’m saying cops love black and white. Sorry, pal. Some good people break the law, some bad people are real sweethearts.
Ms. Budge: Hey, don’t start talking to me about criminals with hearts of gold.
Scratch: I don’t think your heart is really in this investigation.
Budge pauses as he notices they have both typed the word “heart” at the same time.
Scratch: Hey, Ms. Budge, do you know what a simulpost is?
Ms. Budge: Huh? No. What is it?
Scratch: Forget it.
Ms. Budge: I spoke with your buddy just the other day.
Scratch: Which buddy?
Ms. Budge: I need to tell you, Scratch, he’s not going to last too long.
Scratch: Who?
Ms. Budge: Don’t play cute. Winc.
Scratch: What about Winc?
Ms. Budge: Winc’s flighty, doesn’t have the stamina to keep running. You know I’m right.