-----BEGIN PGP SIGNED MESSAGE----- Tuck Season, Wabbit Season, Tuck Season! Part 10 -*- Copyright 1999, 2010 by either Joel Lawrence or Ellen Hayes Any resemblance between the writings in this work, and any actual persons or places, living or dead, are purely coincidental, except when used for satirical purposes. This work contains adult situations, adult language, adult concepts, and possibly sex. If you are legally not allowed to read materials containing such things, then you will be breaking the law by reading this. I am not responsible. Continuing to read this document, or storing it or reproducing it in any format means that you explicitly affirm that you are legally allowed to possess and read such materials in your city, county/parish, state, and country. All rights reserved. See the bottom for distribution rights. *** One nice thing about Trish, Tucker noted absently, was that when she asked stupid questions at just the wrong time, she didn't make any noise. So Tucker continued to listen intently for any sign that he might've been detected coming back in through the window. He wasn't hearing any. While it was a new house, and new people, he could sort of tell when everyone had settled in for the night, and that was pretty much what it sounded like. Trish's mom had shut the television off, and Trish's sister- he finally remembered to ask. Again. Charlie woke up - he didn't seem to be sleeping very well - to hear everyone trooping past his door and complaining to each other. Jane sounded worse than when she'd left. *Guess they didn't find her,* he decided, and rolled over and hoped they would go somewhere else to talk about it. Darryl was glad that Charlene was willing to sleep with a night light on; it made it much easier to see her 'in the dark'. And there she was, in the mostly-dark, apparently peacefully asleep. Jane flipped off the monitor, seemingly not satisfied that at least ONE of her students was where she was supposed to be. *Well, neither am I,* Darryl thought, but he couldn't think of anything else to do that night. *Bill Beale is going to be checking for thefts tomorrow, in case she stole something...* *Well, Jane, you have really blown it this time,* Jane couldn't help thinking. NONE of the DOZENS of her boys had ever been violent once outside Jane's house; they'd been cowed into submission, or at least into non-violence, by the time Jane took them out. *I thought she was beyond that...* *But she was fighting with Charlene, at least-* *But that was possibly provoked. Admittedly, it was likely Valerie's fault or provocation, but it's impossible to tell which of them started anything, and even so, the other one shouldn't have reacted with violence.* *But I didn't think Valerie would do that to an adult... Though she didn't react well to either Marie or I touching her, under ANY circumstances, and far FAR worse if she didn't expect it. Did Sandy perhaps grab her during one of those moments?* *Not that that excuses her behavior, of course... What could I do to change her?* But any question of the appropriate response on Jane's part relied upon Valerie being found, which she hadn't been. *I can't believe she's been gone this long.* Aside from the vandalism done to Sandy's car - which wasn't, Art had forced Jane to admit, permanent or even especially damaging; even the cash in her wallet wasn't missing - there had been absolutely no sign of her. At all. *Could she have run? In her condition?* Marie had, when everyone else finally got home, identified some underwear that Valerie had been wearing and had NOT removed and hidden under the breakroom sink. There wasn't much she hadn't removed, and those few garments she hadn't were DEFINITELY underwear, and girl's underwear at that. *I can't see a boy running away under those conditions, not where he would be seen by strangers...* *Could he possibly still be IN Marisha Chalet?* she wondered suddenly. The shape of the building suggested it would have an attic space; perhaps he'd been hiding up there all this time! Tucker hadn't quite slept; after Trish had dropped off - she snored, Tucker couldn't help noticing, though thankfully it was sort of quiet - he'd snuck out of Trish's room and used the toilet, then found the phone in the kitchen and dialed the all-2's ANI number for Rhode Island, which he remembered only because he'd refreshed his mental list of ANIs for every state in the Northeastern US before he'd left. And now he had yet another phone number to stuff into his head. Occasionally he'd wondered how he could keep them all, and separated and properly referenced - which he could, and without much problem - and what else he could be storing in that NVRAM if he wasn't stuffing it with phone numbers. But it wasn't like he could shine some UV on his head and erase it (they'd tried; it hadn't worked, not even using a lens to focus it in his ear) so he just used the 'trick' when he could. When he'd gone back to Trish's little room - she hadn't woken up while he was 'out' - he'd backed himself against the chest that had been under the window, and arranged himself so he had something of a head support from his packs. The chest was now a little off center, and the drapes were shut and tucked up on the windowsill, so it would be impossible to see Tucker from outside (without some clever gear) and he could shove the chest over if he had to and make some maneuvering room. Sleeping while half-sitting, under his 'new' poncho and a loaner blanket, wasn't very restful, but it was still better than Jane's place. Anything was better than Jane's place. Trish was shaken awake at way-too-early, and it took her a while to identify the girl that was shaking her and signing, over and over at her. *Oh, Valerie, from yesterday,* she finally remembered, and sat up. she signed. Trish asked, before she remembered. Instead of signing anything else, she got up and unlocked the window before slowly opening it. she thought to ask as she turned around. Trish spelled out. Valerie shook her head, then signed, back at her, before asking, she demonstrated. The dust in the attic got into Jane's nose, and she began sneezing fiercely. Which did not flush a startled Valerie out from behind the boxes. Neither had the powerful flashlight Caro had brought from her husband's equipment. "I don't think she could've gotten up there," Caro said from down below, for perhaps the fourth time. Jane wished she would say something helpful. Or something else. *2nd Dew of the morning,* Tucker realized as he opened it. But it would help wash down the 'cold' pizza he'd carried out of their house, in donated Ziplocs, while he was supposedly going home for the night last night. *Man, this is GOOD. Probably because I know it's not poisoned. Having to worry about that does kind of ruin the culinary appreciation of a meal.* He nodded to himself, and took another careful bite, that he was sure wasn't at all ladylike; which made it taste just that tiny bit better. It was chilly, especially since the sun hadn't come up yet, but with the shirts and poncho on, and his legs moving, he was warming up slowly. *Gotta get in better shape...* The town wasn't too big, and the beach wasn't too far away - it was Rhode Island; NOTHING was too far away - but something that was trivial by car or even by bicycle could be a real pain in the lower body when you had to walk it. Plus, eating from one hand while drinking a soda from the other hand, made it a little dangerous to walk. *But I am not stopping to eat, and I am DEFINITELY eating!* With some luck, Trish and her friends would end up at the beach later that day, and Tuck could talk SOMEONE into taking him to the Post Office, which hopefully should have a large box with Tuck's name - well, the newest of his aliases - on it. He thought he could talk his way out of getting a swimsuit, but if he had to, he had to, and he had some ideas about what to get if he was forced to. It wouldn't be all sexy or anything, and Debbie would probably hate it and make him change into something more feminine, but she wasn't here... *Damnit, I wish she was here.* Trish was definitely going back to bed for a few hours, but she couldn't get the image of Valerie leaving out of her mind. She'd slid through the window like she did that all the time, then pulled her luggage out the window the same way, and stood there and put it on like she did THAT all the time, with all the different straps and buckles, and then she walked backwards to the driveway, pulling the grass and stuff back upright with her hands, so you couldn't even tell anyone had been standing or walking through there. And her bags didn't fall off and swing around and whack her, like usually happened if Trish bent over while wearing a backpack or a purse on a shoulder strap. She'd waved, adjusted her beret, and trotted off, looking entirely grown up in a way Trish was pretty sure she'd never manage to achieve herself. Even Pauline didn't manage to look that grown-up, and she was four years older than Trish. Maybe it was the makeup... *I hope she'll be there...* Tucker was staring at the convenience store Trish had told him to go to, trying to remember what 'beach' had to do with 'groceries' in his mind. *Not drinks, not food...* He was quite full, maybe too full for optimal travel, and he still had pizza left. *Should keep for the rest of the day, if I don't let it sit out in the sun. Ice? No, that wasn't it. Swim- Don't be stupid, Tucker,* he told himself sternly. And buying a swimsuit at a convenience store was definitely stupid. *Beach... sunbl- got that. Um. Towel?* Sadly, that was one item he did NOT have, though the dishcloths kind of compensated; at least he'd be able to field-bathe. Jane sneezed again. *Damn that girl... I don't think I'm ever going to get all the dust out of my nose from that attic!* *Talcum powder!* Tucker finally remembered. You rubbed it on your skin when you were done with sand for the day, and somehow it lubricated the sand grains right off, so they wouldn't stick to your skin, get into the clothing you were just putting on, and abrade holes in your skin and/or clothing until a washing or three. *Maybe I should get some ice, too, pack the pizza in it... don't want food poisoning taking out the first safe food I've had in a week. No, wait, the restaurant was okay... I think.* Trish pleaded. Pauline complained. Trish signed, which got Pauline to shut up and think about it, and gave Trish time to think, *Oh shit, what if Valerie doesn't agree to it? Do I have enough money to buy Pauline lunch? Maybe I could borrow a few bucks from Jojo...* Tucker almost screamed when the total was close to twenty dollars, but managed to restrain himself. Barely. He took the bag and made it to the door, but when he opened it he almost screamed again, because The Eye had arisen and was staring straight into his brain, irradiating him with purest evil. Blindly dodging any potential incoming customers, he dug around in his shoulder bag until he felt the cheap sunglasses from yesterday. Sliding them on his face made him feel MUCH better. Even though it would cover up his carefully-done-in-the-dark-before-Trish-woke-up makeup, blocking The Fiery Eye Of Sauron was way more useful. "We hatez the Eye, we duz... Now- Oh, right, ice." He picked the little disposable insulated bag out of the disposable plastic bag and went to the ice box in front to get his pound of crushed. Trish knew this was going to go badly, but she said, Valerie complained. Though not with her mouth, apparently, because nobody turned to look at them. Trish apologized. She didn't have much money left, after bribing Pauline with a morning doughnut and some chocolate milk, but she'd give the rest up if she had to. Valerie glared at her and she turned away, then walked off. Trish felt stupid chasing after her, but what else could she do? Valerie turned back around and almost threw her hand at Trish, then signed, and turned away again. *I'm not a damn dog!* Trish fumed, but the look on Valerie's face suggested she leave the other girl alone for a while. A few minutes at least. She checked her watch. *Jesus. Stupid 'tard bitch,* Tucker thought angrily, as he tried to calm down. He'd been moving for a fingers-to-eyes blinding when he managed to recognize Trish and abort the move before he touched her. *Think I'm a little tense. Heh. Still worried about that heavy hand on my shoulder and a 'Whots all this then?' from a bobbie...* Not like he'd ever seen a live 'bobbie' but still... He could not look in all directions at once, and being out in a parking lot just gave him half a sphere to monitor. *If I ignore the ground, possible mines and pits and punji stakes, and tunnels... *I think I need to get out of this place...* He couldn't, quite, yet; for the same reason he'd avoided any 24-hour business - because that's where the cops would look for runaway kids hardest - he was avoiding any transport nexii like any (hypothetical) bus or (experimentally verified) train stations in town. Except Trish had wanted to meet him here, and not only did cops hit places like this regularly... *I'm not supposed to make doughnut jokes about cops,* he remembered, *but why not?* It took him nearly a minute of digging to pull that out of his bio-RAM; and then, of course, it wasn't any help to the present situation. *So me being stuck here's gotta be part - a BIG part - of why I'm nervous now. So how do I get- Well, agree to the stupid bitch's bribe for... Oh shit, what WAS her damned name?* He turned to look, and caught the two of them having a sign language argument again, except Pauline- *YES!* -Pauline was sort of mumbling, probably what she was signing with both hands, in what looked like warm-up exercises before she gave a serious beating to Trish. Trish, of course, was going even wilder with her hands. *Wonder if I could get her to drive me someplace?* he thought, and turned away to think about it, and also NOT to watch her and remember similar, though louder, arguments involving him and his sister. Because if he did remember, he'd be all pissed off at Pauline for all the crap Susan had ever done, and he'd be all primed to explode over her for Susan-related causes, which A, wasn't fair, and B, would be very hard to explain, and C, would totally screw any chances of getting favors out of her. *Pauline,* he thought deliberately. *Except, if I don't get that stuff back from Jane's, the stuff I hid, it could be used against me... and I NEED that laptop back, or I'll have to replace it. And everything with it, oh shit.* One problem with any sort of equipment, but especially portable equipment, was that the various cables, adapters, packs, cable-ties, locks, chains, and other accessories usually about doubled the cost, weight, and price. Not that this was ever mentioned, of course. *So how... alright, search ring,* the amount of area he could possibly be in, *expands around fifty miles radius per hour, assuming a car, or at least two miles an hour if they assume I'm on foot. I'm still within ten miles, but they don- AS FAR AS I KNOW,* he asserted, because it was important to remember, *they don't know I'm still that close. I really ought to get out of the foot-speed ring, which is...* He re-noticed that he still didn't have a watch. *Goddamnit.* *Search rings,* he caught himself. *Okay, so... it's been, what, at least sixteen hours, not twenty-four yet, that's thirty-two miles, assuming I'd been walking all this time.* Which he could've, but he'd rather not; he knew how much his legs would hurt at the end of that thirty-two miles. *At least I don't have a full pack this time...* *Yah, so... and Trish was gonna try for a beach day today, with her friends. Wonder if Pauline would like to go with that, or what? Mom, maybe... she might be doing errands, or she might want to have a day at the beach, I dunno.* Tucker figured a day at the beach, combined with a driving offspring, would take care of most routine errands during the week, but that was his family, or Mike's. Though Pauline had been doing the grocery shopping yesterday. *Either way, she has a car, she knows I've got a little money, and I'm willing to contribute to her greater good, like pizza and carrying in groceries. *Is that a cop?* He watched, ready to make a break sideways if he got 'painted', but if it was a cop in the Crown Vic that had just pulled in, they were plainsclothes and not looking around at, say, him. Also there was a curly-haired blonde in the passenger seat, and she didn't look too official. Which reminded him of Charlene. *Fuck. I CAN'T leave her there... even if she is too stupid to leave on her own. And possibly Corrupted,* he remembered. *But, no, I'd've seen that, I think. Never did get a clear indication whether she was, or just remarkably stupid and brainwashed. And she kept her mouth shut a few too many times to really be Corrupted. But getting her out is gonna be a real problem... but I gotta go back anyway, to get my stuff. Is that even feasible?* *Only if Mike sent the breakout box, and I get it; I can't get past the locks on Jane's place without 'em. So...* He looked around and located a pay phone. Trish asked and pointed. Pauline turned to look, then turned back and signed, *Damn, still arguing...* Tucker noticed. *Jeez, I used to wish my sister was deaf, and now I remember why. Makes the stupid arguments quiet-* The screech of a fax machine startled him, even though he'd set that up as the new opening 'message' of his own voicemail before he left. He clamped the phone against his right shoulder as he got ready to write, and stuck his left finger in his left ear. And lost everything except the pencil. *Damnit!* He had to scrabble on the ground to get everything back, and then he had to press '222' to delay things until he got rearranged. *No way,* he decided, and just pressed the phone hard into his left ear and wished for earplugs. *Password, password...* He added the date to the new twelve-digit voicemail password he'd set up before he left, and tapped that in. "Brleep! You have. One. Urgent. Message." *That sounds good,* Tucker hoped, as he told it to play the one, urgent, message. "Bee-deep-""Priority immediate, two from four," Mike intoned. "Break. Stand by to copy, message follows." Then the computer voice said, "Key nine," which was the correct checksum for the key, "zero", which indicated this was the first message, "zero," which indicated no one had checked this message before, and, "four," which was the random element Tucker would add to the zeroth iteration of the key. "Message follows." Then it began speaking faster, as designed. "Victor kilo romeo pie-pie back-are. Uniform uniform x-ray sierra victor. Charlie india zulu back-are..." "Hey," Charlie said to himself, because his bedroom door was unlocked, and he usually heard it being unlocked. Which suggested that everyone had forgotten to lock him in his room last night; he hadn't slept well enough to miss the noise of unlocking in the morning. *So, was that deliberate, some kind of test, or did they forget?* Way too often, living here was like some kind of puzzle game, and he still wasn't sure what the rules were. He opened his door to find Valerie's door gaping, and for a moment wondered if he had overslept and that was why everyone was loose, until he remembered what had happened yesterday. *So did they find her or not?* Either way, it wasn't like he could just go down and ask; Jane would want him to get all girl'd up, not to mention showered, hair done, and makeup applied, before he even poked his nose out of his room. Pauline agreed, finally. She could use the money that Trish had promised, and Trish knew better than to lie to her about things like that. Besides, she had kind of wanted to go to the beach today anyway. She just hadn't wanted to go with Trish and her stupid friends. Tucker had a notecard with a lot of letters and numbers on it, but a few minutes work scribbling - VERY lightly - with the newly-sharpened pencil he'd bought yesterday at the grocery on the card gave him sent/to/usps/west/kingston/ri/02892/zip/412949n/713556w/x(period)/ arrive/at/11/local/x(period)/bokscode/(upshift)/TAE9SIAK/ (downshift)/rpt/(upshift)/TAE9SIAK/(downshift)/x(period)/valerie/ davis/x(period)/godspeed/xy(EOF)/247(random element raised to itself minus key checksum)/ and a bunch of nulls to round it off, which was about perfect as far as decrypting went. Except he wasn't sure where West Kingston was, or how to get there, or where the Post Office was when he did. Mike had included the latitude and longitude in case Tucker had gotten a real map, but he hadn't - the road map he had gotten didn't include such esoterica as lat/long or magnetic declination, and he wasn't hopeful about the scale accuracy either - so it wasn't much good to him yet. Though he memorized the coordinates anyway. *Do I need to keep the hardcopy of this? No.* He was erasing the decryption anyway, on the off chance someone would recover it. "Good morning," Charlie said politely to Darla. She smiled wanly back. "Morning..." Charlie guessed that they hadn't found Valerie yet. Since it had been more than twelve hours, he didn't think they were going to. *Not,* he guessed, *like Jane's gonna stop looking, though, I bet.* "Jane's still looking for Valerie, as is Marie," Darla confirmed. "Do you have any idea where she could've gone?" *Ja- no. Stupid,* he admonished himself. "No... I- We only went out the one time, so... she couldn't have seen anything before that. I mean, we went walking a few times, but that was just on the grounds, not even out to the road or anything." Darla sighed and looked somewhere else. "You have reached the Strategic Air Command," Mike's answering machine said, and the familiar message made Tucker smile a little, though he missed Mike and summers and everything. When it finally finished, Tucker said, "Four from two, copy zero stop. Mobile, no digi, wait, out," and hung up. "God, this is costing me money..." Probably a good reason to have a savings account; it would probably be even more expensive to break out of a real prison. *What with the helicopter, the mercenaries, ammo, fuel, car rental...* "Yeah, I guess," Pauline agreed to Valerie's questions. "Don't want to hang with the kiddies all day?" Valerie asked, with a slight smile. "Yeah," Pauline agreed, this time wholeheartedly. "I mean, I guess the rest of 'em are okay, but..." "But your sister is always there, and if she's annoying you all her friends start doing it too," Valerie nodded, like she knew it really well. Trish wanted to know, and Pauline was tempted to tell her. Valerie signed. they both signed at her. "This is a pain in the ass," Valerie said as she copied the sign to Trish's satisfaction. "I need to get to the West Kingston Post Office by about eleven, pick up a package," she said. "You know where that is?" "Oh, um, yeah," Pauline nodded. Valerie signed. She slashed her hand to 'erase' the last word, and instead signed, Trish signed impatiently. "This is really a pain in the ass," Valerie noted. "Is there a Wal-Mart around?" "Yeah..." Pauline answered. "Why at eleven? The post office, I mean?" Valerie answered. "They do that?" Tucker was considering hitting another ATM, because his money was going FAST; but he wasn't sure, since he would be a lot more likely to spend it if it was cash in his pants. *But I've only got a few things more to get...* Except 'a few things', in a store that sold clothing, around girls, was NOT going to end up 'a few things', even if he could resist the five-times-a-minute-from-each-girl pleadings for 'just one thing, I'll pay you back I SWEAR!'. *Yeah,* he sighed. *ATM.* Stephanie looked at Trish's new friend - who was wearing the same clothes she'd had on last night except she'd changed into a light- colored lingerie sort of top - and then looked at Pauline. "Well, I guess I could..." There were a few things she could pick up herself, which was, no doubt, why Pauline had mentioned Valerie's errands to her. She wasn't entirely sure how she felt about this new kid yet. She hadn't seen anything really off, except the same-clothes-two-days-in-a- row, and Trish did that often enough, but... *And where does a twelve year old get enough money for pizza-for-four?* *Maybe I'm worrying for no reason,* she told herself. Valerie had also suggested that salad last night, apparently; it wasn't something Stephanie would've imagined doing, but it was good enough she'd probably fix a salad any time she had pizza in the future. And it also made them all eat less of the pizza. *Some parents are richer than me - like, most of them - and some of them ARE stupid with the money they hand their kids. Not like I would MIND doing that for my girls, I just can't...* "Have a day off on the beach," Valerie suggested, startling Stephanie out of her imminent depression. "Fix up some margueritas in a thermos or something, lie in the sun, veg out a little. You're in television, right?" "WJAR," Stephanie nodded. "Up in Providence." "High stress?" "Oh, my god," she sighed. "You wouldn't believe..." Tucker would believe just about anything at this point; partially because if he didn't argue about the improbability of a particular case, or object to gross generalizations from a single event, then his mom would shut up maybe half an hour sooner. "So," he shrugged. "Come hang. Run around if you want, take a nap if you want, get the hell out of town for a while." And if he could convince her, then she'd go, and not be home in the unusual but possible case of a door-to-door inquiry by Jane or cops or the FBI or anyone else. Natalie thought about it for two seconds, then said, "You're taking Trish and Pauline, right?" Stephanie replied, "Yeah, and I'll be picking up Jojo 'cause Mary'lise has to go in to work today-" "You're kidding." "No, really, and that's one of the reasons I'M bailing out today, 'cause you know, if they can tell I'm having a day off..." Stephanie trailed off ominously. "Yeah." Natalie looked over. "Lemme ask Brian if he'll watch Ryan; they seem to be into the television this morning." She had never gotten the appeal of WB Roadrunner cartoons, and getting away from them for a few hours seemed like a lovely idea. "Okay, but no hurry; I've got to run a couple errands first." Tucker shivered as he went into the Wal-Mart; it was a lot colder inside than outside, for some reason. *Or maybe it's me. I don't think I'm thermoregulating quite right yet.* That was one of the appeals of the beach, being able to lie out in the sun, or even under a tarp or something, and get warm without spending calories. Calories reminded him of Dew, which reminded him of the list he'd had a hell of a time writing in the car, with Trish poking him about every third character. Trish signed as she jumped up and down. The suit looked better on Valerie than she'd thought it would; it was kind of dowdy, being a one-piece with a skirt, and Valerie didn't have much more than Trish did in the boob category - which was why Trish wore a two-piece suit - but this sarong-type suit made her look older. And, somehow, made it look like she had boobs. Valerie signed back. Trish repeated impatiently. Valerie signed like it was totally obvious. Trish was skeptical, but Valerie had been right so far... *Plus the sooner I can pull this underwear back out of my ass,* Tucker thought, *the better life'll be.* He'd considered using duct tape on his genitals for about 0.2 seconds, until Mike began screaming into his mind for way too long about it. *Jeez, you'd'a thought I was doing it to him.* So he'd had to make due with a now rather old pair of panties, modified with some parachute cord and pulled up tighter than panties ought to be. He figured it was leaving marks, but if he did everything else right, he'd be the only one that noticed or cared. *Though maybe a new set of panties would go well... do they have thongs here?* Bill Beale was checking out all the people in the Wal-Mart as he did some weekly shopping Caro hadn't managed, just on the off chance the kid had shown up here; but the photos he'd seen didn't match anyone, even mentally adding the blonde hair Sandy had put on him yesterday. A strange movement caught his attention and pulled it to two preteen girls who were apparently deaf, as their hand gestures looked too varied and too practiced to be some kind of casual kids' thing. One had rather odd black-and-red dyed hair, which flew all over the place as the dishwater blonde slapped at her and Red-And-Black ducked before backing up and furiously throwing gestures at the other girl. Red-and-Black looked surprisingly like the picture, though. He stopped, trying to look like he was waiting for someone else, and studied the girl and her face when he could see it. *No,* he finally decided, *face is too oval, not round; cheekbones and jaw are too defined, and her eyes are the wrong color, too light.* And, of course, the hair was ALL wrong, and not just the color; the cut was attractive enough, making her look older, but it was far too simplistically elegant and 'sensible', not something that Sandy would've done to one of Jane's boys-into-girls, who got over-elaborate curled confections that required constant maintenance. Plus, she had just enough breasts to require the bra she was wearing, and they bounced a little too much - or too little - to be improvised fakes. And her hips were FAR too large for a skinny male. And Jane and Marie both had confirmed that he hadn't been wearing hip pads when he went out. He thought about asking them if they'd seen Eugene, or someone like him, but decided that it was too unlikely; girls that age didn't notice very much about a boy unless they wanted to date him, and in that case they certainly wouldn't want to be truthful to law enforcement looking for him. *Besides, they're in the lingerie department.* It was rather dangerous to be an adult male approaching underage females in that part of a store, and he wasn't in uniform. And there was no way Eugene was in there checking out bras, or the panties that Red-And-Black had just squealed at and pulled off the wall. *Oh, perfect!* Tucker thought as he checked to make sure the black thong he'd just scored was the right size. *I think...* Underwear sizing was yet another set of unreal numbers that had no correspondence to either real-world dimensions OR other size numbers. *Imaginary numbers?* he thought, and sniggered. And as she walked off, Bill shook his head, because no male could manage that hip wiggle she had, wearing that little, in less than two months of constant training. Jane could no longer think of a place Valerie could be that she hadn't checked. And her head seemed like it would explode from the pain at any moment, if her stomach didn't let go first. As she sneezed again, and both her head and stomach spiked with pain at the same time, she wondered if she was EVER going to stop sneezing. "Shit a fuck goddamn," Tucker muttered under his breath as the cashier kept going, and going, and going, and going... It wasn't like he didn't need - in one way or another - everything he was getting, and he was even skipping some things he could've used. *But, oh god the pain. The wallet pain,* he amended. *No, better the first time. The PAIN!* Obviously, Paul Atreides had prepared for his gom jabbar by having to spend six months of wages in less than an hour while shopping for stuff he'd rather not have bought at all. With girls squealing at him. Stephanie was a little startled to see how much Valerie had gotten at Wal-Mart, and in such a short time. "What?" the girl complained when she noticed Stephanie's gaze. "They had a sale on Dew." "Oh, well, yeah..." That was a decent chunk of her purchases, stacked in the cart Stephanie was pushing, along with the Diet Pepsis and other sodas Stephanie was stocking up on herself. Trish insisted, then slapped Valerie's shoulder and repeated herself when Valerie didn't obey instantly. Valerie sighed as she pulled a ribbon-strapped fuschia top out of the bag, then looked around as she realized she couldn't display it without setting her bag down. "Later, I think," Stephanie suggested, and Valerie nodded. Trish asked, and Tucker sighed; she was being predictably sibling-like, by bothering him at the worst possible time about the worst possible activity. And it wasn't like he had a lot of free time to do it, in the minutes they were back at Trish's house before packing off to the beach. Tucker improvised a 'fuck off' hand sign, which she understood well enough to kick at him; Tucker dropped the scissors and grabbed her leg and yanked. "What the hell..." Pauline looked in Trish's room, and Valerie had Trish in a headlock while Trish complained loudly about it. "Tried to kick me," Valerie explained, before she did something to Trish to make her scream louder. Pauline caught Trish's eye and signed, which didn't seem to help her attitude any. Trish managed to get some leverage, or Valerie slipped or something, because there was a mad scramble for a few seconds, and then Valerie had her legs wrapped around Trish as her hands squeezed Trish's wrists together. "She's gonna keep losing," Valerie mentioned, pretending she was calm even though she was out of breath. "She must've forgotten I have an older sister who yoosta do this. Could you take her out of here?" "No, I think you've got it under control there," Pauline smiled, and left, ignoring the squalling from both of them. *I'm glad someone can keep the brat under control, for once.* "Did you get the towels?" Mom called. "Coming Mom!" "Where's Trish?" Pauline sighed. Tucker signed. Trish wanted to know. Tucker signed. he added, <-famous J-E-W-E-L-> Trish signed. *How does she know all these?* Tucker wondered as he signed, He knew 'thief', of course. "She needs to go to the Post Office, she said," Pauline explained. "And you're gonna take her?" Mom asked. Pauline sighed and admitted, "She said she'd buy me lunch out if I took her." "I wish you'd mentioned this before; I'll have to call Nat and get her to pick up Jojo... Why doesn't she get her own family to do this?" "I think she's having a problem with them," Pauline guessed. There had been that kind of tension around her whenever her family or what she was doing in town was mentioned; and Pauline remembered wanting to run away a lot when Mom and Dad had been arguing so much before the divorce. She hadn't dared, but she had spent a lot of time over at other girls' houses when she could. "Besides, Mom, it's not really a big deal. I mean, it's just the post office. Oh, do you want anything while I'm there, like stamps or something?" She figured it might help to ask. Tucker had had a hell of a time getting Sandy's shoes and socks into the mail system without leaving his fingerprints on the package someplace, but he thought he'd managed. And no one had apparently noticed him doing it either, which was even better. Except Pauline and Trish, and a reprise of how he'd practiced this - rather than telling her that today was what all the practice had been for - seemed to at least shut Pauline up. *Probably screaming, 'Dork!' in her head, but at least she's not doing it out loud, or punching me in the head.* Life had its good points away from home. *Or away from Susan...* Nothing except distraction seemed to shut Trish up, but at least she was deaf and didn't talk much. Finally, the woman in front of him bailed, and Tucker advanced on the clerk. "There's supposed to be a package here for me," Tucker said, trying for Amanda's cheery persona. "General Delivery, overnighted, for Valerie Davis?" he hoped. "Go over there," the clerk pointed, "and ask them at that window. Next!" *Well, damnit.* But Tucker went over 'there', to a set of Dutch doors and the two people in line in front of him. *Damnit... More waiting.* He occupied himself with making semi-coded lists of things to do, since Mike wasn't around to plan the raid on Jane's house Tucker had to make tonight. *What do I do if Charlene fights, if she's gone Stockholm on me? What if they're awake? What if they wake up? What if they're armed?* He'd had enough experience with Mike and the rest that he only had to write the important parts in the peculiar sort of shorthand they used to write operational plans down, that hopefully wouldn't be readable for a couple of days afterwards if they were captured. "Momma-Jane, are you feeling alright?" Darryl asked, noticing that she looked paler than usual, and her skin seemed to be stretched painfully over her bones. "Miss?" Tucker looked up while mumbling, "Uh?" *Man, Jane would shit all over my life for that one,* he realized, which made him smile. "Hi, I'm supposed to have a package sent General Delivery Overnight? Here's my ID," he said, handing over the real school ID with the fake name and number on it. "It's got a secret code under a flap, just by the address," he added. He almost said the code out loud, but managed to contain himself. "I wrote it down?" he offered, pulling that card out of the stack. The clerk looked at him. "No," she finally said, "if you know there's a secret code on it, it's gotta be for you." And she turned, bent, and hoisted a large and heavy box, which had a flap labeled 'SECRET CODE' near the destination address, to the lip on the bottom half-door. "What's in here?" she asked as she handed the Valerie Davis school ID back. Tucker thought about several things he could say, including the truth, but decided on, "I can't tell you unless you have the secret code!" She flashed a smile at him, he smiled back, and then he was trying to lift the box and scurry out to Pauline's car. *If she's still here,* he realized; Susan might've left him here, since it had taken so long. *Well, whattafuck if she did. Still got the stuff I bought yesterday...* Much of which was now duplicated, or should be duplicated, in the box's contents. *Oh man oh man, it's like fucking Christmas... can't WAIT to open the stupid box!* "What is IN there?" Pauline asked as Valerie assaulted her package until it ripped open. She couldn't see what Valerie was doing, as she was driving, but she could identify the sounds of ripping cardboard and tape. "Stuff. Stuff I REALLY needed," Valerie answered absently as she poked in the box. "Like what?" "Oh, just stuff," she said, trying to avoid answering. "Hey, where did you want to go for lunch? Oh, SHIT!" "WHAT?!" Tucker had accidentally looked at the postage sticker, which stated how much it had cost to mail the damned thing, and he was trying not to have a heart or asthma attack. *Motherfucker! It cost SIXTY goddamned dollars?! I should've had Mike come and pick me up 'cause gas wouldn't have cost this much! Jesus fucking Christ on roller skates!* Jojo complained. Trish replied. <_I_ don't know, Pauline wouldn't let me come and neither would Mom,> Trish complained. Tracy asked. Jojo signed at Tracy, who kicked sand at her in retaliation. "I don't care," Stephanie said as the girls started a screaming fight. "Me neither," Nat agreed, and they clinked, or clicked, their plastic bottles of marguerita mix together. "At least it's not in the house." "And they can go wash themselves off in the Atlantic." Which it looked like they were going to do. To each other. Pauline was going to take the opportunity to look in Valerie's box when she went to the bathroom to change, but then the bitch took all of it with her. *Darn. What was IN there?* *The older lineman's phone and power unit...* Tucker hooked the two together and got a dial tone, then checked all sixteen DTMF buttons, which all worked, and then the two breaker boxes, which also both worked on all four wires each. *Don't forget to shut it off,* he reminded himself, since 22-volt batteries were not available just anyplace. *Lock gun, check. Locks for zippers, check. Locks for cables, check. Lockpicks... check.* Much quieter than the gun, though it would take him at least five times as long to open something with the manual picks. *Marker, laundry, 5 pens in 4 colors, check. Message cards... check.* The 4-by-6-inch index cards with quarter-inch graph paper markings were the best things to use for coding and decoding, at least in bad light. *Monofilament, spool, twenty meters, check...* "Thirty-four!" called the counter guy. *Oh, that's us,* Pauline realized, and checked the ticket again to make sure. It was. They were going to eat here, since if they didn't EVERYONE would whine about not getting some; even Mom might. Valerie, at least, had totally agreed with her on that part. While Pauline had ordered shrimp, which she didn't get enough of, Valerie had gone for a large bunch of fish and 'chips', which weren't chips at all but french fries, and a quart of clam chowder. When Pauline got back to the table, juggling two trays and irritated that she couldn't possibly get a drink until she put something down, she found Valerie, changed into the oversized men's shirt and ladies' swimsuit she'd gotten at Wal-Mart and another pair of cargo pants except faded black this time, and wearing a HUGE new backpack as well as the Army surplus baggage she'd had yesterday. "Oh hey," Valerie said as she snagged the empty cups. "Whatcha want to drink? I'll get it." "Ummmm, diet Coke? Please?" she remembered, more to annoy Trish (who wasn't here) than anything else. "Sure. Uh, I need to use a pay phone for a minute, so don't get all psycho when I don't come sit down right away, okay?" "Okay," Pauline agreed, wondering why Valerie would think she would do something like that. *Must be she thinks Trish is crazy... but then she wanted to hang with Trish... but then, she offered me lunch. Oh, but that was sort of Trish's idea, wasn't it?* Tucker was very glad that long distance outdials still existed, as he dialed and dialed and waited and dialed and waited and dialed some more. Finally, though, he jumped through all the hurdles successfully and heard ringing. *What should be the LAST set of ringing.* He couldn't stop smiling. "Thompson residence this is Darla," snapped an unfamiliar but female voice. *Huh, wonder who that is,* Tucker thought as he pressed Play. "Meep! Meep!" said the sound effects CD playing through a speaker- to-handset audio connection, then a rude noise, then the sound of the Roadrunner taking off at Mach 0.99. Luckily, that was all one track. Then Tucker hung up. "Heh. Chew on THAT, bitches," Tucker smiled to himself as he went back to the table and his fried fish. "Man, they even got vinegar..." And the spoon for the clam chowder had looked like it was made for eating soup-like things, not for looking dainty. Which was good, because while he wouldn't mind looking dainty, especially around here since Jane probably wouldn't expect that, he was definitely going to be eating. *Towel,* he reminded himself. A towel, or in this case a never- used-on-a-baby cloth diaper, would do a lot better to contain and/or deflect spillage than even the paper towels that were on the table's condiments tray. Which were themselves about four steps above what Jane would've insisted be laid out on the table. *Woman has no sense, either.* *Had,* he grinned. "PITTSBURGH?!" Darryl shrieked when he finally discovered an area code table in the phone book and looked up the area code from the Caller ID. "How can he be in PITTSBURGH?!" As Valerie unslung her backpack onto an empty seat with a practiced swing, Pauline was surprised to notice that Valerie's baggage now had locks on it, like Mom's when she had to fly someplace. *Wow, she's done this a lot, I guess.* Mom had, anyway. "So, you're like a senior, right?" Valerie asked. "Or did you graduate last month?" *Never hurts to flatter the ladies about their maturity, if they're under 21,* Tucker confirmed to himself as Pauline said that no, she'd be a junior next year. She seemed to be warming up to him, a little. *Now if I can just keep Trish on my good side...* "Oh good, he got it," Mike said as he hung up. Tucker hadn't bothered encrypting the messages he'd been sending, but Mike's Caller ID said he'd been using different phones each time. Moderately safe, as long as they weren't in the same cluster; and Mike was sure that Tucker was smart enough to actually move some distance away before using another phone. Fairly sure. *I wish I knew what was going on, though...* The phone rang again, and Darryl leaped at it this time, but checked the Caller ID before he picked it up. "In town?!" This wasn't making any sense... "Thompson residence this is Darla," he said in his Darla voice. "Oh, um, yes, may I speak to Jane Thompson please?" "Whom may I say is calling?" "Um, Kate Bishop? Of the girls' choir?" the woman replied. *Why is a girls' choir calling here?* Darryl wondered. It certainly wasn't Eugene. "It looks..." Pauline hesitated. "Like kinda an old lady suit?" "Yeah," Pauline admitted, glad that Valerie had said it first. "Yeah," Valerie agreed, "but at least this way I won't get tan lines that I have to worry about later." Pauline made a face at that; everyone SHE knew flaunted their tan lines when they had them. Even she'd done it, once or twice. Jane hung up the phone, and shook her head, slowly; it hurt less when she did it slowly. Then she sneezed, so hard she had to check her nose to see if it was bleeding. *Damnit!* *Oh, God, I feel worse than I did when I was sicker,* Sandy decided. *What time is- *Oh shit, did they ever find that kid?!* Tucker smiled when Pauline finally said, "Oh, over there." He'd been wondering if they were on the right beach, and if they were, how they would ever find one particular car with a few moms and a few girls, because it looked like the entire population of Rhode Island had picked today to go hang at the beach. Cars were spaced maybe every ten meters, less for groups, and it just went on for what seemed like miles and miles of endless cars, tarps, coolers, tailgates, and children and dogs that mustn't be run over. Pauline slowly and carefully pulled around back and then drove forward towards the ocean, into the neat little slot that her mom and the others had marked off with their beach stuff. *It's as if she's done this before,* Tucker smiled. He guessed that most of his driving friends would've bogged the car a long time ago, and while he theoretically knew what to do to unstick a vehicle from sand, he did NOT want to try and improvise a solution. Trish and some other girls ran up as Pauline carefully stopped, and Tucker sighed. *Here we go...* He was beginning to feel the stirrings of his tiredness, and he didn't really want to play with some preteener girls for six hours under the Great Fiery Eye. Not like it looked like he was going to have a choice. At least he had sunscreen. *And Dew,* he remembered, which made him smile. It also made him remember other purchases, and so he started digging for painkillers. When Trish saw Valerie with most of her clothes off, she had to ask, Tracy amplified. Trish spelled out, before either Tracy or Jojo said something to Valerie. she signed. Valerie signed back at Jojo, then grinned like a complete lunatic, like she was about to bite somebody. Charlie was beginning to wish he'd gone with Valerie, wherever she was; Jane's house was beginning to feel just like his house had before his parents finally gave up and separated, before the divorce. Everyone seemed insanely tense, like the least little thing would start them screaming and hitting someone, anyone, everyone in the vicinity. Even Marie seemed wound up, like one of those dumb rubber-band-powered airplanes if you overdid the winding. And, of course, even letting someone imagine that he was thinking that, would set them off and et cetera. He'd been on his best behavior at lunch - what there was of it - even better than he'd been the day before, at the restaurant. Not that Jane had noticed. Diana had nearly incited a screaming fight with Jane, if Charlie was any judge, when he tried to get her to eat something. They'd talked around and about the same things they kept talking around and about, which still hadn't found Valerie. If he'd had any ideas, he might have mentioned them, even though he was risking a lot to even say anything at all. But he couldn't think of anything to do either, that hadn't been talked about and done at least twice already. *God, she just fucked everything up,* he thought, as he cleared up the remains of luncheon. *I wish she'd taken me with her...* *That would've been nice,* he realized. He didn't know how he could tell Valerie that he'd been turned into a girl, the same way Jane was threatening Valerie with, but he maybe could've done that. *But at least if she was mad at me, she'd be mad at ME, and then it would be over; and if she was mad at someone else, she wouldn't beat ME because she couldn't reach them or whatever at that moment.* Which was, he realized, what he was afraid of with all of them, even Marie; that sudden blow of frustration that hadn't been because of anything HE did, but just because he was within range during just the wrong seconds of someone else's thoughts and feelings. *Like Mom did,* he remembered, and remembered just how unfair it had felt, maybe even worse than the pain of getting slapped so hard he'd fallen down. Trish argued. Valerie shot back. Jojo signed before folding her hands together in mock prayer. <90 minutes,> Valerie argued. she protested, an agonized look on her face. Trish flashed back. Stephanie watched the girls arguing fiercely, and reflected, not for the first time, how much easier it was to bear when you didn't have to listen to it. Admittedly, things could get out of hand fast sometimes, as the various children goaded each other into impressive temper tantrums - and Trish was the worst she'd ever met at having a tantrum - but it was so quiet, sometimes you could, if you felt like it, just not worry about it until you heard fists and yelps of pain. But it didn't look like this one was going to go that far. Valerie seemed to be wanting a nap, and Trish - of course - wanted to keep doing something, anything. But she seemed to be losing against the other three girls. *Which probably means she'll have a tantrum,* Stephanie sighed. Well, Stephanie WAS feeling better, and they had sand castle building stuff, so she slowly stretched and got up out of the chaise lounge, and waved at the girls until one of them directed Trish's gaze to her. she signed. *Oh man... Now I know why snakes and lizards go for this stuff,* Tucker realized, as the hot sand started to slow-cook him. *Damn I needed this. Warmth without the UV.* He had sunscreen on, of course, but it was only SPF 45, not SPF 200 or better, and so he was reluctant to spend even an hour out in the sun. *I don't think most of me has seen that much daylight since last August, and if I ever had any melanin there it's probably gone now.* Plus, of course, if he was buried, it didn't matter if he fell asleep, he'd still be behind enough shielding that he wouldn't fry. *Might crock-pot,* he admitted, *but I won't get microwaved.* *Fuck I'm tired...* He knew he ought to be thinking, planning, but he couldn't really give much of a shit right now. The only thing he could grasp of the future was, that he had the means and the opportunity to get Charlene out of there as well, if he could get a little luck tonight, and if she could walk any distance at all. *With luck, they'll think I'm actually IN CMU now,* he thought sleepily, and smiled as he thought about them trying to figure out how he'd gotten from here to there so fast. "She couldn't have gotten there so fast," Jane argued. "Are you saying he made the Caller ID lie?!" Darryl countered. "He HAS to be there, because that's where the call was from!" "Don't you take that tone with ME, missy," Jane warned desperately. Tucker had slept for an unbelievably good three hours, and then spent an hour and a half waking up, but he'd finally managed to unearth himself. He felt like a new man. *Even in this old lady one-piece,* he grinned to himself. Although, he also felt like a very old and well-beaten man, so he slipped himself 800mg of ibuprofen and and 650mg of paracetamol, APAP, Tylenol, aceta-whatever. *And in one hour, I get more ibus, and in four I get more Tylenol.* You could play games with ibus and aspirin, but Tylenol would rip up your liver and/or kidneys real quick. Then he saw the sand castle. "Whoa!" Everyone except Trish looked up at him and grinned. four of them signed back. "What, you never used talcum powder?" Valerie accused Stephanie. "The stuff's like magic, just watch," she said earnestly, before she turned and dashed off to the ocean to get herself freshly wet, which Stephanie KNEW would make the sand stick worse. "See?" Tucker said, then stuck his foot out. "See if you can feel any sand on my legs." He hadn't really thought the older women would actually TOUCH him, but he was semi-prepared for it and didn't scream, flinch, or kick them when they reached for him. Though his heart did speed up. And blipped a few times as they actually touched him, one per leg. *No wishbones,* he wished, and then wished he hadn't thought of that. "Wow," said Ms. Tracy as she looked at Ms. Pauline-and-Trish. "Can we use that?" "Sure!" Tucker said, and made sure to smile at them as he retracted his legs and carefully handed them the talcum powder thingus. "She seems nice enough," Stephanie said to Natalie before they both took off for their own homes. "What's she carrying in that bag?" Stephanie shook her head. "I dunno, but she pulled a towel, that baby powder, and at least a few sodas- COLD sodas," she emphasized, "out of there. And some spare clothes." "You don't suppose she's running away or something, do you?" They both looked over at Valerie, who at that moment was trying to wipe baby powder on Jojo, who was notoriously ticklish around the feet, without getting kicked. "Y'know, if I was running away from MY parents, I think I'd have been a little more tense," Stephanie decided. "I think she's just a little more independent than, y'know..." Your girls and mine at that age, she didn't want to say, in case Nat took it wrong. "If she IS running away, maybe we could pay her to take the girls with her," Natalie commented sotto voce, and they both laughed. Tucker's hair had gone up, but he decided to ignore the two older women and whatever they were talking and laughing about. *If they were gonna report me or something, I don't think they'd be laughing. And if it's, like, a couple of Jane's friends,* which he didn't think it was, since they hadn't done anything to him all day, even when he was sleeping; nor even ONCE had they commented on his manners or grammar. *Then I just beat the shit out of them, kill them if necessary, and escape again.* Heinlein was right, Tucker noted; even a single knife made a scout a hell of a lot more confident. *** Distribution: No part of this work may be distributed as an original work by another person or group. Permission is given to redistribute this by electronic means, as long as the entirety of the work (from the BEGIN PGP SIGNED MESSAGE header to the END PGP SIGNATURE footer) is distributed, and credit is given to the original author, me. And no fee may be charged. Archiving is permitted provided no fee is charged for access. All rights reserved. + @>--,--'----- Ellen Hayes o===[-------- __ vicki .sig + -=[1990]=- \/ virus 12.2 + http://www.barkingduck.net/ehayes PGP key: EFC9 5D55 (1996) + -----BEGIN PGP SIGNATURE----- Version: 2.6.2 iQCVAwUBTDHEuHYDebnvyV1VAQELKAP9F/2GSFJQSilVkvxfi4VQiCwPhhboL0Kh lds7AjsqY4zWCnHOrb32eCUhZQFKWGmsmEDXskhB2mv6V25LMglY3XRODntF2E1B jsBLPVFuHhlCGYBUEG3pPP4XGpCverblT/FwUn5ewfb2r9Wu9LRpBPSA4RujMDqj fWoUKCRbPj8= =2VQB -----END PGP SIGNATURE-----