Page 41 of Nearly Roadkill: Queer Love on the Run

I’m guessing you already know who I am and who I work for.

I’m also guessing you know where Toobe is.

And where his two buddies are. I want you to know I’m on their side.

I want them to give themselves up and come in on their own.

It’ll be a lot easier for them if they do.

Truly, there’s no way anyone can make these charges *stick*.

I’m not totally Net-stupid. I’m guessing you could cybersquash me like a bug with the flick of your little finger. Please don’t do that. I’m looking for them, but I’m not their enemy. They need me on their side. At least let me meet with them.

So how about you help me call it all off? It’ll save the US taxpayers some money, and they’ve paid a hell of a lot for this investigation so far.

Thanks.

—Wallace T. Budge, Lieutenant

Investigations, FBCS

Oh, call me an old softie, but I answered him:

To: Ms. Budge

From: SysOp

Subj: Yer ass is MINE, copper

Ha! I’ve always wanted to say that. Please forgive me.

Since it seems you learned some manners from your mother, I’ll not “cybersquash” you as you so quaintly put it. But I remind you: I’m watching.

AND THIS I SWEAR BY CODE AND BY CRAFT:

If you so much as touch one hair on their precious little heads, I shall become the Fury whose name only your nightmares shall dare whisper.

SO BE IT.

Peace and Love,

“SysOp”

END GWYNYTH DIARY ENTRY

NARRATIVE ENTRY JABBATHEHUT

The two of them are staring into the screen. Shelly speaks first.

“Your SysOp is a woman.”

“Huh?”

“That’s a mama lion you’re dealing with; she’s protecting her cubs.”

“But Typhoid Mary can disable her, right?”

“Right. Typhoid Mary is gonna disable anything that gets in her way.”

“Wow. Shelly, I…” He flaps his hands vaguely.

“You what, big fella?”

“Um, you, well. I feel… I just… You are so swell. I mean when you…”

She watches his shoulders heave with a sigh.

“I know, hon, I know.” She kisses him on the cheek, her scent lingering.

END JABBA NARRATIVE ENTRY

TOOBE ENTRY

Oh nooooooooo. When the govt lied that the strike is a gag, people started leaving The Rally in droves!

It’s all coming apart at the seams. Collapsing.

I hate stupid grown-ups who believe anything that scares them. I hate it when people flap their mouths instead of their ears. Too much like school. And Orlio—I can just see his face, like a kid who just learned there’s no Santa Claus. Look what’s happening:

Shooter: It’s a damned lie! The govt *always* lies!

Brknstck: Maybe not always, Shooter. Personally, I think it does sound like some drug dealer’s prank.

AWESOME: No way, Brk… I *met* Scratch. Good sense of humor, but not mean. I believe it.

FredMan: Fine, Awesome… *you* sign off at 8 a.m. I’m not!

Brknstck: Me neither, Fred. My online time is too self-affirming. I’m not going to throw it away on some joke.

HotHead: *You’re* the joke, don’t you see that? ::fuming::

Tom: No strike! The strike’s a joke!

Dick: Yeah! No strike! The strike’s a joke!

Harry: Oh fuck the both of you. I stand with Scratch and Winc.

Private Message to Toobe

Orlio: Heyyyy Toober, people are dropping out of The Rally left and right. Have to ask you… *was* it all a practical joke?

I wish I could hug Orlio. But I did let him know it’s no joke. Probably too late.

END TOOBE ENTRY

NARRATIVE ENTRY, JABBATHEHUT

In the chat room mysteriously created by “the evil SysOp,” Budge finally gets to meet his fugitives.

Scratch has entered the room.

Scratch: Hello, cop.

Ms. Budge: Hello, Scratch. Where’s your pal?

Scratch: On hir way.

Ms. Budge: Do you taste all her food before she eats it, too?

Scratch: Don’t try “Divide and Conquer.” It didn’t work last time, it won’t work now.

Ms. Budge: You’re quite right.

Scratch: So what the hell do you want, Ms. Budge?

Ms. Budge: I need to know if you and your partner in crime are in any way connected with any terrorist groups trying to overthrow the govt?

Scratch: Ah, same ole… I thought you had something new today.

Winc has entered the room.

Scratch: Careful, Winc, he’s already started on the wrong foot.

Winc: ::sweeping grandly into the room:: *Has* she now?

Private Message to Winc

Gwynyth: He’s got hackers tracing your phone lines. What would you like me to do?

Private Message to Scratch

Gwynyth: He’s got hackers tracing your phone lines. What would you like me to do?

Ms. Budge: ::raising my hands:: Sorry. Can we talk, please?

Winc: ::purring:: Oh look, Scratch, she’s being nice!

Scratch: ::evenly:: OK, lieutenant. Talk away.

Private Message to Gwynyth

Winc: Should we be scared?

Gwynyth: Not this very minute, no.

Winc: Phew! Thanks *so* much! I wanna talk with him.

Gwynyth: You want to stay on, then?

Winc: Uh huh, please?

Gwynyth: Then so you shall.

Private Message to Gwynyth

Scratch: What should we do?

Gwynyth: Winc wants to stay on and talk.

Scratch: Cool. Me, too!

Scratch: ::checking address book:: Nope, no terrorist groups here!

Winc: ::peering over Scratch’s shoulder:: Ze’s right, officer… no terrorist groups there at *all*!

Ms. Budge: Haven’t you heard the charges against you?

Scratch: Oh yeah, corrupting minors, getting our modems in a twist, etc.

Winc: ::softly:: I don’t think that’s what she’s talking about, Scratch.

Ms. Budge: He, dammit! I’m a he!

Scratch: ::Yawn:: What’re the charges?

Ms. Budge: You are currently being charged with High Treason.

Scratch: Whoa! ::looking over at Winc:: Did you know this?

Winc: ::hands on hips:: I *told* you that.

It’s the whole conspiring to overthrow the govt thing.

Scratch: ::turning to Budge:: Do you honestly think that’s what we’re doing?

Winc: ::sweet innocent smile at Budge:: Li’l ol’ us, officer?

Ms. Budge: High Treason is punishable by death in this country.

Scratch: I hate when that happens.

Winc: ::folding arms across my chest:: Well, we didn’t do it.

Scratch: Yeah, right, we didn’t do it.

Ms. Budge: Will you two stop clowning for one minute? This is very serious. We have evidence.

Winc: What evidence?

Scratch: What evidence?

Winc: ::looking over at Scratch fondly:: simul…

Scratch: … post.

Ms. Budge: You two are inciting a riot. Instructing your cohorts to sign off is evidence of insurrection.

Scratch: Ah, what a load of crap. We made a suggestion.

Ms. Budge: That’s considered…

His hands freeze on the keyboard. Beside him, Shelly is holding her breath. The message onscreen from his hacker says that they have roughly traced all parties to their physical locations. Wally Budge suddenly realizes he doesn’t know what to say.

Scratch: Cat got your tongue?

Winc: ::leaning across the table toward the handsome officer, allowing cleavage to show:: Something distracting you, officer?

Ms. Budge: Why do you pull that shit with me?

Scratch: Maybe she’ll go for this: ::straightening my tie:: Can I buy you a drink, hon?

Winc: ::leaning back, stroking my mustache, watching Scratch pick up the pretty girl cop::

Ms. Budge: Why do you have to play at being something else?

Winc: ::blinking:: Why not?

Ms. Budge: Why not just be yourselves?

Winc: ::gently:: Maybe this *is* ourselves. All of our selves. Maybe it’s fun.

Winc: Maybe that’s all there is to it, Occifer.

Ms. Budge: You said you’re innocent. So come in and let us help you.

Scratch: Will they give us room service? A parade?

Winc: ::warily:: Who’s “us”? You and your little squirrels trying to trace us?

Wally’s hands fly back off the keyboard as though he’d received two hundred volts.

Shelly’s massaging his shoulders.

“Just keep them online, Wally. Hang in there.”

Ms. Budge: If you two could try to be serious for a moment—

Scratch: We’re dead serious, Ms. Budge.

Winc: Damned serious here, Mister. What about those squirrels?

Ms. Budge: What squirrels?

Scratch: Oh, don’t play dumb.

Ms. Budge: ?

Private Message to Scratch

Toobe: Get the hell outta there!

Scratch: Why?

Winc: We know you’ve got hackers all over us. You lost four and you only have six left.

Scratch: Besides, if we were to come in, *you* wouldn’t be in charge anyway.

Ms. Budge: None of this would be necessary if you would just cooperate.

Scratch: You don’t sound very convincing.

Private Message to Scratch

Toobe: They’re arresting people at The Rally!

Scratch: What? Bouncing them offline?

Toobe: No! Arresting them at their houses!

Scratch: Jesus.

Ms. Budge: I mean it.

Winc: ::turning to Scratch:: He means it.

“Wally,” Shelly’s saying, “it’s Henderson on the phone. There’s been a new development.”

But Lieutenant Budge is deep in conversation with his perps, self-righteous indignation making him type fast for once.

Ms. Budge: I know what is right and what is wrong. And I know my job.

Winc: ::gently:: You know all that? Do you know what *we* are?

Ms. Budge: No. I mean, yes. You’re wanted criminals.

Winc: No. Who are we, what are we?

Private Message to Winc

Scratch: Winc! Did you get the message from Toobe?

Winc: No. I’m flooded with other messages. What’d he say?

Scratch: People are being arrested at the Rally. I mean, in their *homes*.

Ms. Budge: My job is to locate and apprehend you.

Winc: Really, that’s all we are to you? That’s all you think of us as?

Toobe has entered the room.

Toobe: You guys! I didn’t get any answer from you, and I mean it, they’re arresting everyo…

Ms. Budge: You!

Toobe has left the room.

Private Message to Scratch

Winc: Tell me you’re kidding.

Scratch: It’s true!

Scratch: Listen you fucker, what’s this about arrests?

Winc: Scratch? Arrests? You mean it?

Ms. Budge: What?

Private Message to Toobe

Winc: Are you OK?

Toobe: I’m OK, but I’m outta here fast.

Winc: Go with care. We’ll talk later.

Toobe is no longer online and did not receive your last message.

Scratch: I mean it. I’m gone. You’re a fuckhead, Budge. I was actually starting to like you.

Ms. Budge: Wait. There’s no arrests, it’s got to be a rumor!

Even as he types, he catches Shelly’s grim face out of the corner of his eye.

Private Message to Scratch