Endgame - Chapter 97

   Merry and Panic were happy to finally be home. The young and likely junior agent driving them in a federal unmarked seemed unsure about dropping them off on the side of some country side road. They each took turns assuring him it was fine, and they hauled their bags out of the trunk. They each had a huge duffel. They eventually convinced the junior agent that he was done with his gopher task. They both stood there, and sort of looked around, then at each other.

   "So, mister. You said, and I quote you… my duffel bag, turns into a backpack. Yes?"

   "It does."

   "Are you gonna show me…"

   His own giant duffel bag got used to demonstrate. He simply slid an arm through one handle, then maneuvered the other handle over the other shoulder. He jostled the thing into place and looked back at her. She imitated him, then they started walking in. They made their cabin without anyone seeing them that they knew of. The cat wasn't present. Their used luxury sized trailer home they had been gifted was there. Still all sealed up. They stood back and looked at their new home prospect.

   After spending some time with it, it was as it had been advertised to them. Bought new, one owner. The one owner was FEMA, so the entire world knew the drill. It's a rental… beat on it. No rust, no structural issues. But every device had some small issue that was annoying. Someone had done something to a couple of the shelves. You had to know where and when to push up on the door to get it to close without rubbing bad. Everything was either hard to move, or moved too easily. They ran their hands down the sides. It looked like something almost new, to the eye. Metal window covers slid closed and locked with the little FBI shipping locks. They had puzzled this out on their own. FEMA. Storm shelters. What if a storm comes through on the storm trailers? Sliding metal covers for all openings.

   They could hear someone walking up from the main path, out the spur to the little wooden cabin. What was now the little wooden cabin and the big nice looking trailer.

   "Hey! Who're you? No one's supposed to be up here, and no one's supposed to touch that trailer."

   Panic and Merry Bluetoothed, and Panic winked at her.

   "Actually? I'm the range-master. I guess that makes her, what? The range-mistress, I guess. I dunno. Who the hell are you?"

   He gave out his first and last name, and some town name he claimed to be from.

   "Right, like that tells me anything. Are you a blinky star?"

   "Yeah."

   "Well? What's your screen name?"

   "I'm Birdwatcher."

   "No shit? I'm Colonel Panic."

   "I'm Merry, but I don't really count, because I'm not a member of the goddamn website or anything."

   This struck Panic as funny, and Birdwatcher as hysterical. Panic apologized for them not getting enough free time to sign her up and have her post online. Panic was lying through his very teeth, but he told himself it was for a good reason. Rather than go through the whole "witness" thing, he tried to simply deflect or avoid it, however temporary such a thing might hold up for.

   The new guy, Birdwatcher… walked up to Merry slowly. He realized he was looking up at her. Merry was every bit of 5'11" and more and had her winter work-boots on. In the end, she had copied a pair of Panic's favorite work-boots that she had worn. It was that company's take on the "logger" model, and had an aggressive heel. Panic at 6'1" with the same boots on seemed to tower over him even more.

   "Are you out… bird-watching? The guys usually drive into town."

   "Just out walking. I usually walk in the mornings, it's my thing. I just thought I heard voices up here, and I walked up to check it out."

   "You guys do breakfast yet?"

   "Uh, yeah. I walk after breakfast, I meant to say…"

   "Well? Enjoy your walk. I thank you for watching out for our stuff. If we just missed breakfast… by how long?"

   "Not ten minutes. I'm not on the dish schedule."

   "Well, have fun with your walk. If we only missed breakfast by ten minutes? We know where everything is. There's still coals on the fire. Come on, hun. We'll drop these bags, and get a real breakfast."

   The cabin door was locked. Merry looked at Panic.

   "So… how is Bitty Kitty getting in and out. It's winter…"

   Panic glanced down, then poked with the toe of his work-boot. Bitty Kitty was aptly named, he wasn't a particularly large cat. Someone had put a really small hinge on a small area they had cut out of the door. Panic giggled and played gently with the Bitty Kitty door.

   "Apparently? Someone decided to put a cat door in for him."

   They unlocked and went in, and basically just dropped their bags and re-locked the door and set right back off. They went down the spur to rejoin the main trail, and marched to the bunkhouse. There was no one around. There were plenty of big coals, and the dropping temperatures had them leaving stuff out.

   "Egg sandwiches, Merry?"

   "Sure. Scrambled, or… sloppy…"

   "Which do you prefer?"

   "If I'm in a restaurant, I want scrambled. If I'm home? I want sloppy."

   Panic had pushed the coals all over, so they were higher off to the right. Bacon in a cast iron skillet wouldn't take long. Merry wondered aloud where everyone was. Bitty Kitty came zinging in, and made a beeline for Merry and her lap. A wide man appeared in the door to the bunkhouse.

   "Bluedot!"

   "Panic. Merry. And to answer your question… it's hunting season. We're in between deer seasons right now. Guy's are scouting and stuff, getting ready for the next one."

   "You been here long?"

   "Well. After Speedy and Panic went off, Skykid and Rob kind of oversaw things. When they both finally left, Speedy texted me, asked if I was doing much with the pond season done for winter. He said he wanted… an adult… out here. Until you got back, anyways."

   "Why me?"

   "Aren't you the range-master?"

   "Like I ever did it before. What are you doing now that you're running stuff. You probably got little lists everywhere…"

   Scott Bluedot chuckled.

   "Lists. A schedule or two. Yeah."

   "Is it working?"

   "Yeah."

   "Great, keep doing it. We just got here, we just wanna relax for a little while. We've been living on the road, out of a duffel bag. We're going to disappear for a couple days into our trailer, then we'll start being social."

   "You missed most of deer season, anyways."

   "Aw. I can just go pig hunting, if I get bored."

   "Your car was unlocked, and you left the keys in it. I started it once a week, and let it run a little. So the battery didn't go dead."

   "Thanks. Keys are still in it?"

   "Keys are still in it. When you guys were gone for too long, one of the guys locked the front door. Someone else, cut a hole out of the locked door, for the cat. Then, someone found the scrap of wood cut out and screwed a little hinge to make a trapdoor. You guys have the keys, right?"

   "We both have a key. Thanks again. We're just gonna finish a late breakfast? And wander back up to our trailer."

   "I see the little guy found you…"

   "The cat been okay?"

   "Yeah. He's been hanging out more and more down here. You clang a few pots, he comes running to see if it's feeding time. I swear, that cat eats anything. If we stay up late around the fire, he started hanging out with us, on the weekends. Now it's every day and every meal."

   After bacon grease toasted breakfast hoagies, they wandered right back to their own camp site. The cat was quiet and hot on their heels. They went into town, and stopped in to say hi to everyone in the coffee donut shop. A new girl was working the cash register and counter, and she seemed a whole lot friendlier than what she had replaced. The cops were already on duty, so they missed them. One coffee and one donut each had them on their way. They bought zip up bags in several sizes and a padlock at the stores.

   Bitty Kitty was waiting for them when they got back and they finally cracked the back main door FBI shipping seal. Panic hung the padlock out of the way and they went in. Merry grabbed the padlock and closed and locked the door behind them. The cat preceded them into the master bedroom in the back. There they found a quite sizable plastic storage tote, wedged down between the bed and the wall. They manhandled it up onto the bed and opened it.

   "How much is here again?"

   "We're not sure, actually. I cracked a joke that it was boring to get all the keys of coke, that I wasn't even going to ever use. What would a 12 and a half bag of decent buds even look like? And he said, when you get that much at once? It's under a grand for every pound."

   Merry smirked a little more.

   "Only one way to accurately test the potency, you know."

   She reached for the bowl, and he corrected her gently and directed her to the little one hitter.

   "If a couple one hitters do it? We'll know we got good shit. Next time, we'll try a pin joint out. What do you say?"

   They shared a couple of one hitters each, then went back to the bed and the bed's contents. Merry had her scale, and she set about zeroing it for the biggest plastic baggie. She finally got it set to a pound, by reading just a hair over 16 ounces in each big zip baggie. When she was done, she had a bag left that was a little shy of a pound.

   "That one's left over."

   "Head stash? Looks like we'd be good for all year. Do this as a once a year thing."

   "I need, about a pound at the most, for my own sales, when I get back to it… that's the leftover bag for head stash, and a full pound put back for sales. The rest… well, you can see how many pounds are here. This is ridiculous."

   "The question is… do you wanna shit where you eat, and move pounds up here? Or… if you use a connection from down in the city…"

   Merry wagged her head at him. Contemplating.

   "Grizz. He always took care of me, he always did me solid. I'd be the most comfortable? Dealing with him. For this much, he'll take a drive up here. I guarantee it."

   "Okay. I met him too. I like him, I agree. Can you get him to bring a car or a truck, not a bike? And to dress down and blend in?"

   "I can. He knows the drill."

   "When do you think you can have him up here?"

   "I bet this weekend. I have a couple code words I can slip into a message to him. He'll know what's up."

   "That gives us a couple days, to…"

   Merry finished it for him, smiling.

   "Testing it and pricing it."

   "Do you trust him enough, to straight up front it all to him? Expect regular payments back?"

   "A lot of people, no. But Grizz? Yeah, I do."

   Merry grabbed a handful out for themselves to see what the new stuff was like. They put all the pound bags back into the plastic tote, and got it up into the loft that went out over the fifth wheel attachment of the big house trailer.

   They stood there, until Panic broke the silence.

   "Well… do you think Grizz will be… interested, let's say… in the other thing?"

   "I'm sure he will. He'll be bringing money for the pounds, which I'll front to him. So he can use his money, for… a trial run. Maybe."

   "Well. We should look into that."

   "We should."

   Panic gently worked the carpet loose in one corner of the floor, and pulled it back to reveal treated wood. He used the battery powered drill from out of the cabin he had brought with him, and unscrewed a section of the floor. One central space between the joists, was loaded with what looked like plastic wrapped bricks of white powder.

   "I can't believe you got a dozen of them. Christ…"

   Panic shrugged.

   "I only have a certain amount of cash set up, that I can get to privately, and get a debit card issued to me. I was able to afford 13 of em, but I turned one into that green hay-bale in there. Shipping, was free and safe, all thanks to Uncle Mikey and his magic locks. I still can't believe you talked him into that, I was just joking when I said it."

   "Well. It's my cover to buy and sell pot. It's not that out of the question, that I should do one big deal a year, to… I don't know… make it safer for me, while playing my part? So yeah, Uncle Mikey okay-ed the green hay-bale, as you put it, and forked over the FBI shipping locks. That much, he knows about, and even though it's off the record, he signed off on it, so to speak."

   "He just didn't sign off on what was under the floorboards. But like I said… once we had the thing locked up tight with scary FBI locks, it just made perfect sense to…"

   Merry finished for him.

   "It did. I admit it, it did. So… how should we…"

   Panic rested his fingers around his chin, thinking out loud.

   "It's a little hot, at 68 percent. We should do a quality cut, carefully by weight, bring it back to… oh… let's say 50 percent. It'll still test great, for color, or using it, either one. We'll get more out of our 12 kilos here. In fact…"

   He used the calculator on his cell phone, to verify his hunch.

   "18 percent of 12 kilos? Is just over 2 kilos extra. So, that would be 14 kilos we're selling, not 12 like we originally bargained for. There's a nice little pile left over, too. You can sell it for a bonus, or… make friends with it. Whatever."

   "So, what's that come to? You're the one that's got the calculator out already."

   "Well. I spent 12 and a half on 12 kilos. 150,000 out the door. I don't even count the green hay-bale. I figured on doubling my money, selling them at the friend price of 25 a kilo. And hell, we're close enough to New York here, that it's like giving money away. They can double it taking it to upstate New York, where it's easily over 50,000 a kilo. But, now I've got 14 kilos after I do a good cut. 25,000 times 14, is… 350,000. That's not even counting the pile left over. So, if all goes well? I was originally planning on 300,000 back all told, out of 150,000 risked. Now the 300,000 turned into 350,000. That, will be 200,000 profit back, on top of my original 150,000. Plus, whatever you make or don't make off of the extra pile. I'm guessing we can more than double the 12 and a half on all those pounds up there, right?"

   "Oh yeah."

   Merry looked at the open "floor safe" as they had called it half jokingly in the recent past, installing it.

   "What do we do right now, with these?"

   "Close it back up, for now. I'll figure out how much cut we need, and when we got it, we can do that. We have a couple days before he gets here. We can have it all done and repackaged up, easily."

   "Can Grizz bring a friend?"

   "You're asking me?"

   "You bankrolled this. It's your call."

   "Anyone of those guys that came with him to your motel room that first time. Or anyone of the guys that stopped up to camp already. Has to be someone I already met and got along with. Is that reasonable?"

   "Sounds okay to me. A lot of people, only wanna deal with people they already know."

   "Well, that settles that for now…"

   He set about replacing everything, and removing everything damning. They glanced around. They could have someone in with everything put away. Instead, they continued to sample one hitters of the new stash, seeing how much they liked it. They both agreed that while their tolerance had dropped a little, from being on the trip and having to steal away to smoke… their initial reaction still seemed to be that they had some decent new stash on their hands.

   Merry wondered aloud what it had been called again.

   "Diesel. Cherry diesel. He said something like, it was good Cherry Diesel, cut with good Purple Sour Diesel. How does this taste test, got you thinking about what to do with it…"

   Merry laid her shoulders up against his hips and core. He was laying on his side, propped up on one arm while she had her knees tented up and her head, shoulders and back curled against him.

   "At 100 dollars an ounce, which is a ridiculously low price, mind you…"

   "Oh, yeah…"

   "Well, at 100 an ounce? 16 ounces in a pound. That's still 1600 per pound. How much did we pay per pound again?"

   "Less than 800 a pound, going by the hay-bale. It weighed a half a pound over."

   "Christ. It's actually half decent shit. We could sell it for 100 an ounce, and still more than double your money on it. But you could definitely make more than that."

   "Well, you're the expert, Merry Jane. What do you suggest?"

   "Going rate for even half decent stuff, is around 50 an eighth. That's 400 an ounce, retail. I say we sell for 200 an ounce. That's 3200 a pound, priced average. I'd say knock the 200 off if they get a whole pound. 3000 a pound, even. If they want to get it all at once? I'd suggest going down in bulk to 2500 a pound, if they want it all. You'd still have more than tripled your investment, and it's all gone quick, like you wanted."

   Panic got online, and found out that if he bought 10 pounds of the lab grade sugar, that it was a bulk rate that really dropped the price. He ordered a pound of something else, simply to disguise the purchase. Without the side purchase? It was an obvious lab grade sugar buy. With the side purchase, it was a 10 to 1 weight that mimicked a common order, a type of home made kid's dough to play with. An impatient soccer mom might easily request overnight shipping on it, they decided.

   They soon found out an interesting trick Bitty Kitty now displayed. Merry and Panic were going between the cabin and the trailer for the umpteenth time, when they noticed Bitty Kitty. He was posting up seated, working his ears like little radar dishes. They could both of course hear nothing. Bitty looked up at them and licked his lips before going back to working his ears in the direction of main camp once again.

   Merry giggled. Panic quipped…

   "Well. I think someone just told us, that it's lunch time, how much you wanna bet."

   "Oh yeah. Mister Bitty here, has been heading down for three square meals a day for a while now. He licked his chops, I don't know what else we expect him to do, to tell us it's lunchtime already."

   The cat needed no further encouragement of any kind to follow them, once they locked up and decided to test the cat language out. The cat went trotting ahead of them, and they walked in on the very faintest beginnings of lunch. A half hour later of small talk, saw them taking food back to the cabin to eat it there. It being colder out now, this seemed more common than summer etiquette which had of course been to eat around the fire.

   Overnight shipping was no joke. The cellphone rang early the next morning, after breakfast but before lunch. Panic slowly bounced out the short trail to meet a brown delivery truck proffering a box in exchange for a signature.

   After eating lunch and cleaning up, they slowly added 18% by weight to the first kilo bag they carefully emptied out into a light, plastic bowl. After adjusting for zero, the plastic bag's content's weight appeared as a hair over a kilogram. After adding the necessary light weight to cut back to 50 percent, they zeroed another large zip baggie and made it weigh 1 kilogram.

   Using this first slow one for a template, they each had a couple more one hitters then slowly drudged through the rest. Each doctored kilo got reweighed while the extra went off onto a clean metal pizza pan. They quickly started churning out the per kilogram process, then giggled through the tedious work to the ending.

   There really were an extra 2 kilograms and more left over. After packaging up the precise kilogram pair of bags, there was indeed a fairly substantial fraction left of 50 percent. Panic asked Merry if that was decent bar coke for casual sales or not.

   "Huh? You look like quite the expert. You seriously gonna tell me you never did this before?"

   "No. I swear to god. I only know how to do this? Looking at it like I got an ounce of weed, and I'm cutting it up into eight eighths. Why?"

   "Okay. How did you know how to mix the stuff, by wiggling it on a sheet of newspaper. I thought that was a little too slick, you know…"

   "Oh. I only know that's the way to mix stuff thoroughly, quickly, and easily? Because that's how you mix the ingredients that are all powder for fireworks. And you know how else you should know I never did this before?"

   "How."

   "Do you see me doing any of the shit?"

   "Actually? No. The only testing you do? Is rubbing it on your gums, to see how numb your face gets."

   "Well… that should tell you, that I don't do this. Now, getting a bigger bag of weed? And getting 3 other guys to go in on it, to get a better per ounce deal? Yeah, that I understand. That's how I view this. It's just a lab experiment, to change the percentage of the mixture, by weight, accurately and evenly."

   "And why are you so good at this again?"

   "Two years of high school chemistry. Took more chemistry classes in college, for science electives. That, is years of lab classes. Physics always had lab classes, too. Didn't you have to take two years of chemistry in high school, to be in the college kids club?"

   "Merry, took two years of biology, instead of two years of chemistry, to be in the college kids club at my high school."

   "So, you repeated the couple of biology classes in college, to cover your science electives too, huh?"

   Merry nodded yes. The two of them accompanied by Bitty Kitty fell asleep in a heap inside the new trailer. Panic had quickly hooked up a 110 heater to the free electric they enjoyed. They had to actually turn it down from top volume, so it didn't overheat the travel trailer. For as beat up as it was mechanical wise, it was airtight from being young in age. Panic and Merry both took turns scrubbing things with extra cleaner in the mix, trying to get rid of stains and slight smells. Panic embarked on the seemingly never ending task of replacing this and that bric a brac one thing at a time.

   Practically anything he touched, had something he wanted to adjust about it, somewhere. Hinges and handles slowly started to get replaced. A few small and unobtrusive washers lifted errant cabinet door angles back up to straight enough for the time being.

   While the three of them fell asleep in a heap late that night, finishing up the repackaging of the precious cargo… the cat basically woke them up early in the morning. Meowing in their faces, then outright braying at them. Bopping his forehead gently against first Merry's then Panic's forehead. Panic finally slurred out his morning's first words.

   "Honey? Is it safe to assume, that Bitty Kitty is telling us, that it's breakfast time. And he doesn't want to leave us?"

   "Oh, yeah. He's bitching at us, to get up. So… the cat's in charge now, right?"

   "Looks like it, hun. Want a hot breakfast, while the getting's good?"

   "Why not…"

   The cat once again preceded them to arriving before the first bacon sizzled, or the first egg had been cracked. Apparently, Bitty Kitty had learned that three times a day at least, he would smell a fire. That the fire almost always meant treats. They once again traded a half hour of sociability for food, then retreated back to the trailer. Ostensibly, they were relaxing from living on the road too long. In reality, they were privately setting things up. They kept to themselves, and awaited Grizz and company's arrival.

   The two guests arrived in a nondescript small rented car. Grizz had been to the cabin before, and they held court with Grizz and a guy from the original motel room meeting for the eye-drops.

   "All right. This is pleasure mixed with business, but still, business is business. This is Merry, and Panic. I've been up here before, and you? You met him in DC, in Merry's motel room once. You'll remember it special, because we took eye-drops, which is rare. Right?"

   "Oh, sure. I remember him…"

   "Well, as far as everyone vouching for everyone else? I think we're pretty tight. I explained beforehand, to my friend here… that Panic drilled a dirty fed, and this little lady here? Drilled thirteen more dirty city cops. As if we need any more… credentials than that? She's national property. And on top of that? She has legit dots and scratches on her own card. Now, I vouch for my buddy here, who wears the same colors I do. So? We're even. While we do business? Let us not forget, that we want to do this the friendly way. Friendly business? Is good business. I think we can all agree on that point, right?"

   Everyone nodded.

   "All right then. Merry… Panic… What did you two end up getting into, huh? I'm just dying to know."

   Merry looked at Panic, and Bluetooth-ed which should start. He blinked and she went on from there.

   "To start with? Check this out…"

   They lit and shared and passed around a small joint. They all agreed it was decent quality when Merry let him know he could get pounds of it. Cheap. When he started discussing how much money he had, versus how many pounds she could get… she gently changed tack.

   "Tell you what. If you take the entire stash of it? 2500 a pound, in bulk."

   "You mean, you actually trust me, to take it all… and just make the occasional trip back up here, to drop off bundles of cash?"

   "Is that a problem?"

   "Not at all. I can't get in trouble, if I'm stopped with a wad of cash on me. I'm going to look at some expensive, custom bike I might wanna buy. I'm just amazed you trust me that much."

   "Grizz? Known you for a couple years now. If I can't trust you? I can't trust anyone."

   "Any more business need talked about, Merry?"

   "Actually? Yes. Nothing definite on the table, I just have a surprise for you. Here's one of these…"

   She took a kilo zipped baggie out from under the covers that had been hiding it out of view.

   "Oh. Is that what I think it is?"

   "Probably. It tests out at 50 percent, on the nose."

   "Really… how interesting."

   "Yes. Honey, would you mind giving Grizz one of those color shaking thingies?"

   Panic handed him the little solution container after opening it for him, then handed him the card that the shade of blue indicated was the purity level. No different than adjusting Ph in your backyard pool. He matched up the color to what did indeed prove to be the 50 percent shade. Neither Merry nor Panic felt any urgent and compelling need, to tell Grizz they had grabbed the cocaine test kit out of an FBI agent's car.

   Grizz sat back and splayed his hands.

   "That looks like a key…"

   Merry smiled back.

   "That's because it is."

   "How many can a guy get, if he liked the first one, I wonder."

   "He could get thirteen more, after the first one."

   Grizz smiled, then quipped.

   "I honestly try not to do the shit, Merry. Now, that's me. My giant friend here? I'm gonna call him, my official taste tester. Would that be fair and neighborly, to suggest that? We could call it a market test, and a fair one at that. He scores bar coke, on the rare occasion he gets some for a chick. His nose? Accurately represents my… my… fucking target audience, my… target customer, dig?"

   "Merry? I think this is an excellent time, for you to go get, the… um…"

   "The little bit extra, left over?"

   "Yeah. Let him taste that little stash, the leftovers."

   Merry obliged him by pantomiming a cocktail waitress, while she produced a large tray and a plastic snap lid container. She unsnapped the lid carefully, and took a generous fingertip's grab out, and plopped it onto the tray. She wiggled her head, seemingly calculated, then did it a second and a third time. The baggie didn't look like it had a dent in it, and a nice little pile now laid there on the tray. She let him use one of her own "business cards", which had the dot and scratch line code to indicate fights she had been into on club business and won. He looked at it, and smiled. Merry's credentials were impeccable.

   Grizz's buddy had to endure the three of them all sitting back in their chairs, and waiting for his test results. Everyone waited while he idly chopped at it with the business card.

   "No chunks. Very smooth. Tooth rub? Hmm… ooh! Oh, going by the taste test? I can't wait…"

   He cut out a couple short, thin lines and slowly did them. He dipped his two fingers into his water and sniffed it up his nose after each tiny set of lines. Even after he started smiling, his smile increased quickly until he was sitting there positively beaming with childish energy and enthusiasm, judging by the look of his smiling face.

   Grizz chuckled.

   "If I had to guess? This isn't going to be a bad report, I don't think."

   "Better than any bar coke, that I can remember getting. My teeth are going a little numb. And I didn't even have that much. I try to do some more? I'm gonna start drooling and slurring like a retard."

   Merry smiled.

   "Is that a good test report, Grizz?"

   "Yes. Yes, it is. Now… not to be rude, but to beat around the bush no further. How much of this good reporting bullshit is going for exactly how much, huh? Ballpark me."

   Merry grinned.

   "My contacts, but… Panic here is the one that bankrolled this little adventure. I think it's only fair that he should answer that one. If no one objected, that is."

   Grizz smiled.

   "Oh no. Go ahead."

   "Here's the deal, Grizz. We had the planets line up. We were in the deep south, where we could score a really sweet deal. And, it just so happened… a perfect transportation system, just presented itself, as luck would have it. This? Is one of those one time things, I couldn't say no to."

   "I dig. How much, for how much."

   "25 a key. You can see it's got a good… pedigree. You could cut it a little, and make a little more. Or, whatever. Here in north central Pennsylvania, how far away are you, from just outside New york City, huh? I bet it's worth 50 there, or in upstate New York on back-roads."

   Grizz nodded.

   "So, you want 25 a key, and I can dump it less than 8 hours one way, for 50? I like the sound of that. You wanna give me some cellphone time, see what I can get into? I don't want you thinking I'm being rude, doing texting instead of talking. I'm seeing if I can set something up. I got buddies up in the sticks in New York, for just that reason, my friend."

   The now official lab taste tester, went back for the occasional extra taste. Grizz texted back and forth, lost in his digital world. Not quite an hour of Grizz texting, while everyone else waited on his attention, produced results.

   "Okay. I got a firm offer? 52 a key, for 4 keys."

   Merry whistled. That's… 208 thousand."

   Grizz teased her.

   "Just teasing you Merry, don't get mad, but… yeah, you can count. Good."

   Merry laughed with him, and slapped his forearm nonchalantly.

   "Are you making a point? Or, just being a smart ass, like usual."

   "Maybe? Both. Do you trust me, to carry 4 bricks for you? You see, my buddy here, that I brought with me? He just happens to owe me a little over a grand. Now, not only is he taller and thicker than I am, he's also my brother. Let us run the four bricks. Two each. We'll be back, probably about sixteen hours later, with the cash. If you trust me, Merry? This is a chance to move four bricks, at what you asked for. Me and him? We get to keep the difference, between 25 and 52."

   His bigger buddy cut in.

   "Yeah. That all sounds well and good. I don't have enough to buy in for two bricks, Grizz… I was gonna be lucky to score some weed for myself, for Christ's sake."

   "So? I'm basically getting four bricks, on my name. After we're done? We'll just treat it like I fronted you. And you get the profits, from two bricks, for you."

   "I don't know what to say. Thanks."

   "You don't have to say anything. You owe me a grand? I'll make it easy and fun for you to pay me the grand back, and still put thousands of dollars in your pocket."

   "Okay. Thanks. So… how's this gonna go?"

   "Can we stay here and rest up, for the trip? Once we leave, we'll be there and right back, minus food and bathroom breaks. Do you trust me, to make your exchange for you?"

   Merry nodded yes. She looked at Panic, who nodded yes back at her. Grizz gently instructed his bigger and younger friend.

   "All right. Me and you? We're to be polite and accommodating to the citizens here. We're gonna eat and rest up… then do less than 8 hours there, then back again. Sound like a plan?"

   Panic was fairly sure Grizz was more than happy, but he checked anyways.

   "So. Did you get friend price, or what?"

   Grizz smiled and nodded.

   "You give me love. After me and him get back from a little back-roads trip to New York somewhere? You'll be happy, seeing things work right."

   They ate a couple of meals together with the regular camp boys, friends of Merry's needed no further scrutiny. After letting the two of them enjoy a long night's sleep and a wake up meal… they waited a hair less than sixteen hours total, before they heard the familiar sounding engine pull in, bouncing over the slightly uneven terrain.

   Grizz and his friend came back in, they looked tired from all the driving and everything, but they were smiling. They looked like things had gone well. Grizz started, putting the duffel bag up on the little table in the trailer.

   "Now… we got good news, and we got bad news. May I suggest the bad news first."

   Merry and Panic both said almost in unison… what's the bad news.

   "The bad news, is that I didn't get 52 a brick, which is what I promised. I apologize in advance for that."

   Merry shrugged.

   "So. What's the good news…"

   "Well. The other bad news, is that the 52 deal fell through. But, since I'm right there, with my buddy… now, he's got all his buddies in his crib too, you see? It's all going on around me. We sat there, not an hour or two… and another deal came up. For the same four bricks."

   "How did that go?"

   "My buddy, drove the four bricks about an hour away up there? And got 53 a key, for all four. On account of, he felt bad his deal fell through, after he gave me his word. We're back with the goods. If you're interested, that is…"

   Grizz unzipped the big duffel bag, to show the stacks of perfect, paper wrapped and seemingly bank counted piles of 100 dollar bills. Each pile said 100 bills; 10,000 dollars. Grizz commented on it.

   "In case you're wondering? I only do deals like this, for stacks of hundred dollar bills. Can you imagine the mess, of trying to do this with all small bills? Fuck that. So… every stack here, is 10,000. You gave us… four bricks, at 25 a brick. We owe you, 100 even. So…"

   He slowly counted out ten stacks. 100,000 cash, in non-sequential 100 dollar bills.

   "Now. That's what we bargained on. But. The original plan, was to sell it for 50. You basically handed me a suitcase full of cash, to get rid of your little adventure. I got 53 a brick, four bricks. I feel guilty, that's 12 thousand extra. You made this easy, it's like I feel guilty making a little more on you."

   No one else at the camp thought too much about Merry and Panic keeping to themselves for a couple weeks. They had said they were into relaxing and napping and sleeping in, after living on the road, and being run ragged. Their two friends that came and visited a couple times, aroused equally no suspicion. A big guy, and a really big buy. Both as sweet and polite as could possibly be, attending the three squares around the fire ring every day when they were there for it. Resting up between "contractor work" sporadically in New York State, and why not stay with his buddies here, and make it easy and visit at the same time.

   After a couple appearances of them, in between their contractor work upstate, that is… Panic and Grizz got into some sort of friendly duel, to see who could outdo the other, in being more generous for buying special dinners for the group. Grizz finally won with a big lobster boil. Everyone toasted Grizz. Everyone loved him. He had the charisma to be a baby faced giant when he wanted to. He was good at telling funny stories, and he was even good at teasing people around him. No one ever got mad, they only laughed when he teased them. He was the quintessential "nice guy", in every seeming sense of the word.

   His bigger friend, seemed to hang on his every word and gesture, and seemed to smile and nod and enjoy spending time with his buddy Grizz. They did framing contractor work here and there, they were buddies, what the hell.

   After their last trip, the pair had successfully made 3 separate 4 brick runs, disposing of 12 bricks in those three trips. This last trip, despite protestations from the happy customers upstate? Was alas, the last and but only 2 bricks. When they brought back the bundled 100 dollar bills for the last two brick run that closed the whole operation out? They all tallied up.

   "All right. It's getting to look, like our business is almost concluded. We have gotten you, your 25 a key asking price. We enjoyed our 25 a key boot, believe me. Here, is the extras, because every single one of them, went 51 a key or over… Now, that was 12,000 on the first run. 8,000 on the second run. And another 4,000 on the third run. That's 13,000 unaccounted for, right there. I got another 2,000 on this last 2 brick final run. That's 15,000 extra."

   "You boys? Can keep it for a tip. Believe me, I'm happy. You're happy. Everybody's happy."

   "Christ. Merry texted me, more than once, about some sweet deal waiting."

   Panic grinned…

   "Heck, your buddy, you said he started out, owing you a grand… I bet you're all straight now, and then some, am I right?"

   "Oh, that's so long gone, believe me. Let's see. 15,000… how about 5,000 apiece."

   "Good with me."

   Grizz and his buddy were both happy as well. That pair left after the next day's breakfast, and had 350,000 dollars in 100 dollar bills neatly stacked in their duffel bag. In addition to the 350,000 they were going to split up however Grizz said so later on down the road… they each had 5,000 in pocket cash. For gasoline, or food, or high end hookers on the way home if they wanted to. They were hinting at going home by way of Atlantic City to blow the pocket cash, it seemed.

   Before Grizz and his buddy left, Merry and Panic unleashed their final caveat onto them.

   "Merry? Before they go, it's like I'm forgetting something."

   "Hmm. Maybe the bucket?"

   "Ah, yes. Grizz, we just happen to have a special treat for you."

   Grizz shook his head, smiling, hitting a hand-rolled cigarette.

   "You know, I would say, it just can't get any better? But… I cant wait to hear this one. Go on…"

   "Well… wait here…"

   Panic came back with a not quite filled 5 gallon bucket, all sealed up tight. Grizz was a little perplexed. He studied the label.

   "Am I supposed to know what this chemical is…"

   "It's not what's in it, trust me."

   "Well… what is in it, then…"

   "Grizz. You remember way back when, in DC? You and your buddies helped me out with getting me something weird."

   "It wasn't eye-drops, I remember that much."

   "Well. That stuff was expensive. Now… what would you think, if I was tell you, that there's a couple gallons of the same stuff, here."

   Grizz just stared and blinked. Retailed out, in eye-drops bottles? It was a serious chunk of change.

   "Holy sheep shit. Guys, I don't wanna lie to you. I really don't have much of a market for the stuff."

   "Find someone that goes to gay dance clubs, Grizz. You get it there? It'll sell like Popsicle's on a 100 degree day. They'll want you back every weekend, if you're nice. Back before ecstasy became the big dance drug? This was one of the top draws at big dances. Call it 'Gabby' instead of Gamma… give a few taste tests out at a dance night… I guarantee they'll keep calling you every weekend. Try it. What do you have to lose?"

   "Another front, to go with the poundage filling my trunk up?"

   "Yep."

   "What's the price structure like?"

   "Well? Let us know if it starts happening."

   Grizz and his cohort couldn't believe their good luck.

   After that last dinner keeping straight faces, and feigning wanting to turn in early yet again… Merry and Panic went home and took score because they were finally alone. Neither one could believe they were looking at 350,000 in 100 dollar neatly stacked bills. Panic even had his 5,000 dollar split of the "tips". Merry asked him what he thought they should do with it.

   "Well? I had 150,000 up front money. I got that back, and 200,000 extra. Now, in my book… only because I used your connections. I don't want you to think I look at that 200,000 profit, as mine. That's… ours. Okay?"

   "Well. If you were allowed to spend it on anything you wanted, what would that be. The 200,000 profit. Where would that go."

   "Well… The bank building, will cost me 60,000. Uncle Mike's first one year payment? Is a little over that, and it pays for it nicely. This… gives me 200,000 free, to buy a bunch of used equipment, and material… to do anything I want, over time, to the bank."

   "Anything the bank wants, the bank gets?"

   "Well… due to certain recent conditions… may I remind you, that this bank also gets you the marble racquetball court, the marble showers and bedroom… don't forget the marble tanning booth."

   "And… I get to brag to my girlfriends, that my boyfriend actually owns a bank?"

   "If you want to. Then they get to see it, and play racquetball in it. Tell me, were you coach of your last racquetball…"

   "Oh hell no. I wasn't even team captain, some other girl already had that one. I worked my way up to a co captain."

   "So. What are you going to be this time, if you own the marble racquetball court."

   "Oh. Shit. Coach… captain… whatever I feel like calling myself, basically. Or? All us girls could compete for spots. That's fun. I'd still be the de facto owner or coach or whatever, even if I pretended I wasn't, because we competed for spots that changed with our records."

   "So, you're on board with the bank program, then."

   "On board? My ass. I get to live in a big, marble, castle like a princess? Oh… what girl would ever enjoy that, huh? I might have to buy a tiara, like a tiny girl. Why does this sound all too good to be true…"

   "Well… I need to buy a few things for the coming up soon gun store, if you remember. That's a little expensive."

   "How expensive."

   "40… 50… thousand. Somewhere in there. Fees, insurances, a whole bunch of shit, but it's all one time money up front. After that? I'm home free. No rent for the gun store, or my apartment there. Just cheap taxes for taking something off of the tax rolls for them, really."

   Merry sized everything up.

   "Does this… tap you out? You need it to work out good or you're ruined?"

   "Nope. I could do this all over again, if I wanted to. Don't worry about it. I get out of the expensive gun vault purchase, that's actually something, I'm telling you. That bank vault is worth it's weight in gold, for that little perk."

   "All right. If you were looking for my blessing, to take this perk, and put it towards the bank and the gun store first… go ahead, you have my blessing. Because that's where I eventually get my tanning bed, and my racquetball court, and my showers and locker room from."

   "Plus the marble apartment, don't forget that one. It might not look like much at first, when we get there? But… when you see it start to get polished, you'll shit when you see it. It gleams. You'll see, I promise."

   "Like I said. You have my blessing to… manage all that. However you see fit. Now then. How much do I owe you for the weed I have left. I have a full pound, that's a little bit over… and the extra bag, that's just a little shy of a full pound."

   "Well. Do you trust the huge front you just gave to Grizz, that he's going to drive back with stacks of hundred dollar bills, to pay you, as he gets it periodically?"

   "Yeah. We sat and watched him do it how many times already. I trust him."

   "Well? Good. When he brings back shopping bags full of cash to pay for the hay-bale? It's all yours. I made more than my money back I risked… you can have it all. We should have head stash now, right? That's my only request, you know. Have a thick head stash, and the rest I don't care about. It's… fun for you to slowly move a pound, tending bar part time, right?"

   "I'll go back to that eventually, yeah. It's part of my… operation. When the trials are over."

   "So there you go. When the trials are over? You can be hot dog weed girl at the biker bar part time."

   "And what are you going to be, if I may ask."

   "Well. I'm going to be, the guy trying to start a gun shop. I intend to work one day a week, at the local farmer's auction."

   "Why…"

   "Something to do, it's only one day a week. You get to see all the auction items, long before they ever go out to get bid on. That part's great, when you get a box of shit you want, for next to nothing. It's fun when it happens. This will be my third farm auction now, and I guarantee you, there's always a flea market outside every one of them. I love that too."

   "Okay. We work one day a week at your… farm auction. I work part time at the bar, and make a little extra doing… whatever it is I do on the side. You spend a couple days a week at working on your gun shop, I figure. Maybe more."

   "We both live and work right next to each other, in the same small town. Wake up 5 minutes before work, no problem. You're still there a minute early. And just so you know, as soon as I get the electric on safely in the bank? I'll get you a tanning bed, I promise. So, I'm gonna just buy the bank already. We got the extra cash. We got extra cash to fix it up. We're golden. Remember… my original 150,000 I risked? 100 of it goes to my own self insurance plan, which is naturally no payment to myself. If I leave the 100 grand in a collateral account? My big insurance, is now free every year. I have no rent. I just pay the taxes and utilities, I'm breaking even. That is, once I get done paying everything else up front. Renewing membership every so many years? Is just a small fee, there's no giant initiation fee, like the first time. It's a small, routine thing, once it gets going."

   Then they both agreed that this was fun supposing now and all, but both admitted none of it was going to occur before all of the damned trials were over. They half jokingly started listing them off. Panic went first…

   "Well? In chronological order and all. The DC motel room shooting? That's the first trial, and it's both of us for that one, I figure."

   "That's not a trial yet, if at all, ever. There's still an inquest, a hearing. IA stalled that, because they can, when shit's extra kinky."

   "Is this… inquest, or inquisition… is it in a court room?"

   "Yes."

   "Same fucking thing as a trial, then."

   "It's probably going to be a slam dunk. Justified, bang, done here."

   "I hope so."

   "Mike said he thinks so, for whatever that's worth in your book."

   "Quite a bit, actually. He has years of experience at this shit."

   "Next up, is the dirty dozen case its damn self. That's all me? And very little you. What. You played the grieving boyfriend, that couldn't find his missing girlfriend. Tragic. Not like anyone's looking to grill you on the stand."

   "Then? Don't forget the two witches. That's another trial for both of us."

   "Well, actually Mike's been texting me about that one…"

   "About…"

   "Their lawyer has them looking at plea deals. 10 to 15, guaranteed 10 years before eligible for parole. Then once every two years, until release. Basically, if I show up two or three times, and read a victim impact statement? They get the extra five years. I intend to give it to them."

   "15 years? That's longer than you need to do your… operation, before retirement, right?"

   "Told you before. I've been Merry for so long? I've given serious thought to maybe just retiring as Merry, too. If I stay here, they can pick another town to live in. And it better be far, far away."

   "Oh. Don't worry about that kinda shit. I see them even once, after they get out? I'll fucking dispose of them my damn self. I swear to god, I'll have one polite talk with them, right before they get out, so they know what the score is."

   "So. You like the idea, of them taking the 10 to 15 plea? One less trial, too, for us."

   "That one's your call, Merry. They came after you."

   "I can get 15, and I can get invisible pulled on strings, to keep them from getting paroled that last 5. 20 is the max, without aggravating circumstances. 15 for doing no trial work? Sounds about right to me. I wanted to ask you about your thoughts on it, before I said whether I agreed to the plea or not. If you can get your victim to agree to the plea? It's considered a nice thing to do."

   "That leaves the dirty dozen case. For both of us. And? The inquest. Again? For both of us."

   "How long till you get the bank, that you already have on hold."

   "Well. Any money I paid holding the deal up, all automatically applies towards the purchase price, if I end up buying it. So, I didn't waste the 2,000 I have into the double tie up I did, to keep it on ice. I'll just take the balance off of Uncle Mike's first year card, to polish that off. That secretly leaves me with 350,000 to do everything with… not even counting I have other nest egg money."

   "Well… Mike was talking about the inquest, for the single shooting. He's talking like it's… one day, for discovery and pre hearing motions, then a one day hearing, done. Mike says, the word on the street is, that everyone's so embarrassed that you almost got killed by a dirty FBI agent? That there's absolutely no way, that anyone had any plans on trying to charge you with thing one."

   "So. We're down to two days for that, you accept the plea deal, and we both face the dirty dozen trial together?"

   "Yes. Except for your Elvis case. Whenever that comes up? That's got you all over it. Speedy, too. Mike, JG, Senior, everybody."

   "So. We just wait on trials, then go back to our lives, huh?"

   Merry shook her head yes.

   "I can live with that. Are you something resembling happy?"

   "Well, let's see here. Before you? There I was, in my little, but obscenely expensive, DC motel. A one room shit-hole apartment. You said I get to collect tanning fees, and racquetball fees, right?"

   "Sure. Why not. Place is paid for, get whatever you think you can get, for your hobby. I'm gonna see what I can get out of my hobby, guns and tinkering with guns. Do whatever you want."

   Merry grinned on one side of her mouth, and it turned into a thin smile. She punctuated it by slowly stalking to be closer to him, while poking at him with her index finger.

   "What. I thought you didn't care about money… mister get what you can get…"

   "Do… you have some kind of… philosophical issue with it happening?"

   Merry shook her head no.

   "And if I did?"

   He simply shrugged, and laid his wrists on his knees. He cocked his head slightly, and just studied her. Eyes looking blank and curious.

   "I'm just more used to… people lecturing me, why don't I do more. To make more money. To make my life better. To make me more comfortable… blah, blah, blah. This? Is a new one."

   "I'm just teasing you. But… I'll admit I'm a little curious."

   "Curious about what, hun."

   "This is the guy that'll argue with a person running a cash register. That they gave you change for a 20, when you know you paid with a 10."

   "Yeah. I'm honest. Or… I try to be. What's changed that way."

   "It's just… okay, I don't know. Hey, like I said. I was just teasing you."

   "It's fine. If I can't defend my position, then I clearly don't have one. But I'm gonna need to know what I'm making a case for. What is it?"

   "I'm not exactly sure. And we really don't talk about certain things. Let's just d---"

   "Do I ever yell, scream, and carry on?"

   "Well… no. You don't."

   "So, I probably won't start now. We're alone. If you wanna bring… something up? You can. Go on."

   "You're just… you're not…"

   "What? Spit it out."

   "I'm not sure, I even know exactly what it is, or how to say it."

   "Try. Just describe it."

   "Okay. When I met you. I told you a million times… I wanted to meet you, because you seemed so nice. I mean… you're just giving up your own time and money, killing yourself, to help people you never met. Like… you were some missionary, or Peace Corp volunteer."

   "You know my motivations. We talked about this a bunch of times already. I was hunting the devil. I finally got him. You yourself, even decided… that I was driven to do it, because I wasn't allowed to beat the devil down at the equator. And… I saw some chance, to… redeem myself."

   "No. You're the same… nice… missionary that way."

   "All right. I'm not sure why you started with this, but… okay."

   Merry paused, trying to put into words, what it was.

   "And at the same time… I thought you were… working poor. Like me. Then…"

   Panic cracked a slight grin.

   "Weird take on it. Yeah. It ended up I had a few eggs put back. Is it that I lied to you? That I was poor, and I really wasn't?"

   Merry chuckled.

   "Oh… I can't say anything there. I live in a glass house on that one."

   "Yeah. It was ironic, Merry. It was damn cute, too, I guess. We both had money put back, we don't tell anyone else about. Maybe for different reasons, but still."

   "No. You even said it that one night. We've both done very wrong things, for very right reasons. You said we were made for each other that way. That was very sweet of you, to say that, by the way."

   "Yeah. I try to be a sweetie pie. Now, I'm not pushing you, but… what's rubbing you then? Is it… something that we're not supposed to talk about, maybe…"

   Merry lowered her voice, even though they were alone.

   "No. Self defense, is… self defense."

   Panic slowly tilted to stare at nothing in particular down around his work-boots.

   "You're not… scared of me, are you? Be---"

   "No! No, no, no… and no."

   He continued to look away and down, and to drape his upper body down and around his knees. He dropped all pretenses of even trying to worry about body posture and facial expressions and hand gestures. His soft, hollow voice was as quiet as a church mouse.

   "Merry… one woman might describe some guy as… scary. Now, another woman might describe that same guy, as… I don't know… all boy, and protective. Because, if you got… I don't know… a scary vibe from me, when I'm… it's not directed at you, you know that, right?"

   "Oh… honey… don't ever think that. Why would you think I w---"

   Still looking at the floor, still with a light but thoroughly hollow, even if mild, voice.

   "Then what's the problem. You're not describing a problem. Or I'm missing something."

   "Well, I told you, that I had trouble putting it into words…"

   He very plaintively spoke to the floor some more. He was above a whisper, but not by much of a margin.

   "It's not you, it's me. I don't know what it is. Like that?"

   Merry walked over and stood right in front of him. She had to squat down to grasp his hands lightly.

   "No. Nothing like that. I swear. Why are you so worried, that you scared me somehow, and that---"

   "I feel… ugly. Sometimes."

   "Really? You're not ugly at all. Why would y---"

   "Not looking ugly, Merry. Being ugly. Look… remember one time I told you, that it was after I had come back… there was an incident. In some bar…"

   "I remember. I mean, it's a bar, so…"

   "Yeah, but… anyways. I didn't go out much, and when I did, I just wanted a cheap, quiet place to have a couple beers… maybe shoot some pool. I went out by myself, I wasn't carrying on at all. And when I went out? That was the place I went to. I didn't have any real problems with anyone, I mean, nothing major. I ignored some little shit, and it wasn't a big deal. Anyways… one night, there was some bigger guy there. I didn't know him. Someone said he came with some other regulars. He started giving me the shits. I kept telling him I didn't want any trouble, would he please leave me alone."

   "I can see where it's going. He didn't leave you alone."

   "No, he didn't. I went and sat down at my spot at the bar, just to get away from him. He followed me over, and he sat down on my right side, and he kept it up. I told him, a couple times, he started getting grabby… I chopped him in the throat, when he was rearing back like he was gonna hit me or something. Then… I'll show you some other time, but… I spun around his arm and got all my weight into smashing his face off of the bar."

   "That was it? It was over."

   "Oh yeah. That part of it. I mean, I wasn't in any trouble. He was giving everyone else the shits, too. But… I remember walking away, and… when I smashed his face off the bar, he… his nose kinda exploded, and I still got his forehead off the wood bar, real solid. A couple people up and down the bar, had blood sprayed on their arm… It was all over the place. I… I wasn't drunk at all, I had like two beers in me. Nothing. I was, gonna go to the bathroom. Get the blood off me, before I go. The place wasn't packed, but, there were some people there. I remember this one couple, they backed away from me, to give me, like… 20 feet clearance to go the men's room. And I'll never forget the lady's face. That's what hurt."

   "She was scared. She saw blood…"

   "Normal fear, but… with complete disgust, too. It… reminded me, I was… in some way… a monster too. Everyone was too nice after that happened. I couldn't take people looking at me like that. Everyone being way too nice to me, because they're afraid of the monster? No… I might not know what my optimum role really is? But… I know it ain't that."

   "That's when you quit going out to the bars, I guess…"

   He still wasn't looking at her.

   "Yeah. You know, it's funny…"

   "What's funny."

   "When I was little? I was scared of people. I was way too sensitive for some reason, and that just made it all worse. I couldn't handle anything. Then… when I can handle everything just fine, when I'm older? Maybe in some ways, the cure is almost worse then the disease."

   She stood up, and gently tugged at his chin, not the fun time, fake rough grab she was known for. He wiggled his head, and stayed eyeballing footwear. Merry never forgot the time a ways back, when she gently made him talk about the thing he asked her not to talk about. Then tried to prevent him going for a little walk. She didn't want to do the wrong thing on accident, so she simply stood up. The exploratory tug up on the chin and her new found wisdom both told her she didn't know what to do, so she did nothing.

   Standing now, she gently let his hands go, just to pull his head in and gently drape her forearms around his shoulders.

   "There's no… problem. I'm not scared of you, you make me feel safe. And… you're not… ugly. Not like that. Now, I work around a lot of ugly people… and you're not like that at all. Okay?"

   She held his head against her abdomen and gently fingered the top of his head, almost idly.

   "Do you wanna go for a walk. Or… want me to leave you alone. Hmm?"

   "No. I'll be fine. Sorry I got like this, I don---"

   "Shh. You didn't do this. I did. Thinking out loud. Just because I don't always understand or follow… doesn't mean I don't love you just fine. I don't really see my ass being nominated girlfriend of the year or anything."

   After a minute or two of standing there quietly, holding his head loosely against her abdomen, he drew in a breath and held it for a second before exhaling slowly. When he was done, he seemed to relax. He put his arms around her and hugged her just above the hips.

    Merry had a sudden epiphany, but she wasn't yet a hundred percent sure of it. In psychology, she was trained to be always poking, prodding, looking. Teasing and searching, like a biology student using a sterile pin with a handle. Lifting and looking for tumors on a dissection slice off of an organ in question. There was no physical looking, it was all psychological. Because Merry had been presented with what some called "modern psychology" and "classical" or "retro psych" both? She had to make a choice somewhere along the line.

   Merry had chosen the retro or classical approach for her own. If she thought she was making a connection in her observations… she had to present the stimuli and observe the behavior pattern she was predicting. She had to remove the stimuli, and see it change. She had to show and prove that her assumption was more than likely correct. It was a mere word game without the testing and predictions of results.

   Merry already knew what would turn him into a polite robot, devoid of any emotions. A response that both shelled and protected himself, and had the side benefit of taking his own emotions out of the equation. No pity, no empathy, no remorse to hold him back. Her idea, was that she had triggered this. Until he mentioned it, she hadn't thought about it. Her out of nowhere conversation, that there was a problem and she didn't know what it was. She was having trouble saying it… she had likely sounded like a dear john conversation opener.

   Many times people know when someone is breaking up with them, before the actual words get said by the other individual. They speak quietly and patronizingly at first. They sit you down, they initiate some… story to try to gently explain why.

   Yet, Merry already knew that all too well. What she wondered about, was what triggered the turtle to come back out of it's shell. Was it time passed, or could she simply present the right stimuli and the light switch flicked back on. His analogy about being able to shut his emotions down like flicking a light switch off, she understood. When she had started asking about turning the light switch back on? He had no analogy. He said he didn't turn it back on… it crept back up and on, all by itself. Like a dimmer switch being turned on so slowly you don't realize it. But you still notice the lights are now turned all the way on, even though you didn't do it.

   Merry wondered if that was with slow or no positive stimuli. She looked down on his face and head. He had nosed up her sweatshirt and her T shirt underneath, to rest his nose and some of his face on her skin. Merry was beginning to suppose that all she had to do, to instantly break the robotic moody spell… was suddenly introduce the right stimuli. Basically anything that had to do with technology or figuring something out.

   The instant he was studying something, attempting to figure out some puzzle, or even explaining something… the goofy, childlike personality came around. The child wanted sweets and snacks. Caffeine and energy drinks. Stay up late and sleep in the next day. Computer and internet, had replaced TV in his childlike world.

   The personality and behavior in this environment was a complete polar opposite to the robot. He was prone to talk very little, while concentrating. Yet when speaking and explaining, to get excited and talk fast. Little finger motions, being goofy. Prone to do some silly little dance out of nowhere, wink, and go back to working on the puzzle. Silly puns and wordplay, silly voices and mannerisms.

   A happy child.

   When I'm all grown up and I'm big? I'm gonna stay up all night, and sleep all day, and no one can stop me! Man… if I ever have my own place? I don't care if someone spills something. Who cares. I'm never gonna have furniture you're not allowed to lay on, or put your shoes on. That's stupid…

   She could just hear the normal toddler desires and wishes, and she could see it being played out in the grown up. Man, I'm gonna eat anything I want when I'm big, and no one's gonna be able to stop me!

   Once Merry echoed these common childish wishes and heart's desires in her head… she suddenly got another one. A toddler coming home in tears. A concerned family dog consoling and snuggling him, while he pouted alone. In the little imaginary movie in her head, she saw the child hugging and rubbing cheeks with the small animal. Whispering in it's ear, like children will do.

   When I'm big and strong? I'm gonna hurt anyone that hurts people. And I'll never let anyone hurt you either…

   Merry had the idea she was flailing with her psychology, because she was applying adult psychology. Adult male psychology. The subject had a high IQ, that much was obvious. He had really strong math and verbal skills. There was no reason to revert to child psychology, if there was no case of developmental impairment. Yet…

   Children, particularly girls that have been molested or raped when young… kind of freeze in development. As adults? They can have little girl voices they put on a lot of the time. Merry even knew it was called neotony. Neotonous behavior was the hallmark of childhood trauma. And Merry realized that no one else would ever pick this up, except her.

   Merry knew that he read college textbooks as a toddler, and that he spoke like an educated adult from a very young age as well.

   He wouldn't present with a little kid's voice. Because he never once had one.

   Now… following that line of reasoning… the women with the little girly voice didn't just have the voice, they would have all the body language that went with it. Hold whole conversations, when content, as a child.

   Child psychology. What would it call for. The child is moody and moping. Simple. Wait a short time, then inject something wonderful. Ask the child to describe a character, from their favorite cartoon. What were they up to? And the child's mood would quickly change over. Happy, and excited to be asked about their cartoon character? They would eagerly describe their latest adventures. You polish that off, with a little snack and a hug. Tell them you love them, and that everything's fine.

   "Hey. Mister Moody…"

   "Yeah…"

   "I don't wanna talk about this anymore. You?"

   He wiggled his head no on her stomach and ruffled her sweatshirt doing it. He dug back in gently, like a dog hiding it's nose under the edge of the blanket.

   "Wanna change the subject?"

   "Yeah. But… what were you looking for."

   "Oh, nothing. I thought I didn't understand something about you. But you know what? I was wrong. I think I do understand it, just fine. Don't worry about it. It's not important."

   "Are you sure…"

   "Yes. Hey…"

   "Hmm."

   "You and JG, you do stuff online. You guys are always laughing, and having your strange little jokes."

   "So?"

   "What's that name you have for me again?"

   "Ha. Which one…"

   "What do you mean?"

   "Well. You're a real life girl. So… you're 3D. An image of a girl? That's 2D."

   "Hmm, yes… and as we all now know, 2D is better than 3D."

   Panic snickered.

   "Don't worry, Merry. I'm not trading you in on an anime girlfriend. For a bio-cunt, you're not half bad."

   Merry found herself laughing, which jostled his head on her stomach. He started giggling as well. Merry smiled and scratched his hair. The robot didn't giggle like that.

   "Gee. Thanks. What the hell is a bio-cunt…"

   He snorted and suppressed another snicker.

   "Real life women? Bio-cunts."

   "That's really sweet. Thanks."

   "You're also a 'foid."

   "A what?"

   "A foid. Short for femoid. There's a bunch of oid's…"

   "Such as…"

   "Femoid, obviously. A black person is a groid, short for negroid."

   "What's a white person?"

   "A coid. Short for caucasoid. Whites are also called snow-niggers, but technically anyone that lives above a certain latitude is a snow-nigger."

   "Now, just to make sure. You calling me a unicorn. That's a good thing, right? I'm not gonna find out six months down the road… that a unicorn is actually a cut, right? I might not wanna be a… unicorn-fag, or a… unicornigger."

   Panic started trying not to guffaw into her stomach now.

   "I don't think those are words, but… creative. You got the idea…"

   "And being a unicorn, makes me special?"

   "Yeah. You're a based tomboy. And you're fit. Being fit? Makes you looks-maxxed."

   "I kinda knew I was a tomboy, and being fit sounds obvious. Looks-maxxed? Sounds like because I'm fit, it maxes my attractiveness level, right?"

   "Yeah."

   "Okay… that just leaves based. What kind of tomboy is a based tomboy."

   "You know the word debased."

   Merry paused.

   "Debased is… bad. If you chop little kids up? You're… depraved… and debased."

   "Right. The joke is, that's DE-based. The exact opposite? Would be completely down to earth and righteous. Truthful. Simple. Direct. Moral. If you're based? You're not a degenerate."

   "Well, thanks for clearing that up for me, dear."

   Merry now figured she was right. Asking him to open ended explain his online computer culture, had instantly triggered him out of the robot, and back into his normal fun and silly leisure personality she enjoyed. Boyish boisterousness. She figured a snack was next.

   "Hmm. I want something. You?"

   "Eh. What."

   "We have our little freezer over there. How about an ice cream sandwich."

   "Hmm. Okay."

   She went and got 2 ice cream sandwiches, and he grabbed her gently around the waist and slowly "tripped" her back over his thigh to lay on the bed with him. They scooted around to get comfortable, then ate ice cream sandwiches. Merry would go on to test it further, just to see… but for now she was fairly confident she found her trigger. She hadn't lied to him, either. She did understand him better now. The morality streak, for instance. It was a grown up version of a youngster's basic understanding of right and wrong. Innocence.

   You don't take things that aren't yours. And if you find something that you know isn't yours? You return it. You try not to hurt people. All simple things a mother would tell a young child.

   Sure, he grasped all the nuances of advanced thought around it, but… if you were dressing up greed and calling it something else? He would laugh and point it out. What kind of a house would a young kid like, anyways. Practically anything. Kids don't care. He wanted to put his shoes on the sofa and the coffee table, and he wanted to be allowed to live and play in his house. Wherever the house was, he really didn't care.

   Kids could give a shit less, what zip code the house is in. That might matter to a materialistic adult, but… to a kid? It might be boring to live there. She had been to his own house. It was gigantic but old. Nothing desirable about the zip code, the architecture, the decor. Wood and some metal everywhere. Functional. Durable. Lots of privacy, lots of square footage, and the woods were just across the street nearby. You could play in it, and leave your toys lay around if you wanted to. If you spilled something, or put your shoes up on the furniture? No harm no foul.

   Merry had no intentions on trying to use this knowledge to try to control him or get him to do what she wanted. She simply liked knowing how he ticked. He was no man child, this stunted emotional growth would exist solely as the urges, the driving feelings to the adapted adult. The adult? Would flesh out and dress these primal desires and urges with all the trappings of adulthood. Intelligent reasons, reasonable explanations, any degree of rationalization necessary to sell it.

   Merry didn't have to wonder where she lay in his scheme of things. As his mate, she was more or less the human equivalent of his little dog growing up, or his precious Mr. Fuzzy cat at home. She liked to come around him, she liked to lay and snuggle with him, and to have silly fun playing. She had already seen him lay with Mr. Fuzzy, both staring into each other's close face. Smelling each other's breath, gazing into each other's eyes. He did it with her as well.

   His prime motivation was clearly having his companion close to him, snuggling. Sex seemed to be more of a bonus, to the physical closeness. Merry thought back to the first time she had invited him back to her room. To watch movies. She had a cat, she brought snacks home, she had a big flat TV and some DVDs. Looking back on it, it was the perfect bait. Later on, she had picked up in conversation what some of his happier memories growing up were.

   As a teenager, if he didn't go anywhere on the weekend… his parents would have rented movies. From 2 to 4 of them would be around. He would describe in detail the quiet night, the house asleep so it was as if empty for him. The slight anxiety or joy at what movies had been rented. How he watched the other movies, whether he thought he would like them or not. The closeness with his little dog, and the shared food tray they split up between them on the single large dinner plate.

   It was how he watched a movie with her.

   "So. Someone's in a much better mood. Aren't they."

   He flashed her his signature half grin, then held a weakened version of it.

   "Yeah…"

   "What should we do tonight?"

   "Oh. I don't care. Anything's fine."

   "Well. How about dinner. It's the weekend. The boys are going to have a fire, like normal. Maybe we should… eat and stay, if only just a little bit."

   "If you want. Sure."

   "Don't you?"

   Panic shrugged easily.

   "I'm not against it…"

   "Is there some reason you don't want to?"

   "Well…"

   "Come on…"

   "Okay, look. Stuff happened. It's all over but the crying…"

   "The crying and the trials."

   "The trials, being the crying part."

   "So, we relax some. Reclaim a little bit of our life back."

   He sighed.

   "Bunch of guys. Camping. Between hunting seasons. Weekend dinner meal. Fire time. Beer. Once I stay, correction… once we stay after dinner very long? We're… back."

   "So?"

   "And I'm gonna get asked for stories. Asked questions. Couple more drinks? Then comes the toasts. I don't wanna be the center of attention. I don't want the members that haven't figured out what I am already? To figure it out."

   "Hmm. You could play it suit straight for the cameras, you know. No comment. Can't comment on an ongoing and open case. Can't discuss law enforcement techniques used at the federal level. You've heard this speech before; you could go that route."

   "I'm amazed at one thing. I know that much."

   "What?"

   "You haven't asked me once about… that which we agreed to never talk about."

   "Which thing that never happened. The earlier one? Or…"

   "The later one."

   "What's to ask."

   "How much. Where's it at. How do we get it. What's your cut. You know, like that."

   "I honestly don't care. Just like I don't care about what you have taped up in that cardboard box."

   "I kinda baited you. I chopped up pretty much the entire 350, and earmarked it all. You didn't say a word."

   "A word about what…"

   "You don't… want anything?"

   "Like what…"

   "I don't know. Has to be something."

   "Hmm. Idle boast on your part. You already know Merry doesn't have the financial wherewithal, to go buy anything substantial."

   "Yes. But. Merry, the out of work steakhouse waitress? Now has a boyfriend. If Merry wanted something, it wouldn't be out of line, for her boyfriend to decide to get her a present."

   "Oh. I honestly hadn't thought about it like that. But it doesn't change much. Clothes? Shoes? Jewelry? Really not my thing, you know. Now that I think about it? Hmm…"

   "Oh. Here we go…"

   Merry smiled and poked him for fun.

   "About all I can think of… wouldn't my boyfriend see about getting me a car? I'm used to living in the city, and Merry clearly couldn't afford a car. Now? Maybe a car. I mean, I'm finally allowed into town, and I can show my face in public. Because I'm not playing dead anymore, remember?"

   "I was thinking a couple pairs of shoes… now you want a car? Christ almighty, do you think I'm made of money…"

   Merry continued smiling, poking and slapping him gently for fun.

   "Well? You asked. I want a car."

   "What kind of car…"

   "I honestly don't care."

   "Truck or van, to carry stuff? Something good on gas. New, used…"

   "Whatever. You drive all used cars, don't you?"

   He nodded.

   "Used, then."

   "Small pickup suit you?"

   "Sure."

   "I actually have a couple used cars at home. One of them? Is a little pickup truck. We could drive it back, toss a few things I want from the house brought here. Computer stuff, tools."

   "So, we have to make multiple trips…"

   "Or? We could fly in. I could have someone pick us up at the airport. Then we could each drive a car back."

   "Okay. When can we do that?"

   "Uh. Maybe next weekend. Hold on… let me make a call…"

   He called a friend from back home, and explained. After a short conversation, if he called back and they knew it was a definite go, it wouldn't be a problem. On the weekend was best, the husband could drive up to Pittsburgh International and retrieve them, without burning a personal day. During the week? He really couldn't get away from work. The wife wasn't comfortable driving to the city and to the airport. He ended the call with a promise to call a couple days ahead of time, possibly for next weekend, or the weekend following.

   "There you go."

   Bitty Kitty had been telling them, that it was feeding time. The cat was starting to get that antsy look. He wanted to go and eat, but… he didn't want to leave his humans behind either. The cat was thrilled when they finally set off walking down to the fire-pit.

   With no more Skykid making gourmet meals left and right, dinner was a hair more subdued. Rob was gone as well for the time being. The scuttlebutt was that Rob and Sky were both planning on coming back for the better part of the next gun season. It was a new bunch of guys that had rotated in for now. Panic deflected all inquiries until "after he ate and relaxed".

   Someone had knocked together a rough but sturdy coffee table sort of rough affair out of two by fours and a leftover hunk of sheet wood. Several, actually, as they saw looking around. Bitty Kitty sat obediently on a rough table, right next to the cooking fire-pit. His eyes and ears swiveled to watch every move of anyone that came over and even remotely looked like they were cooking, and he did it with constant and earnest interest.

   A small mountain of thinly sliced deer steak, to make Philly Steak subs. Scott Bluedot seemed to be the main cook at the moment, and they were amused to see Bitty Kitty got a decent sized chip of thinly sliced raw and thawed deer meat every so often. Some joker had taken a permanent marker, and written "CAT DINNER TABLE" on the platform. Apparently, this was Bitty Kitty's own spot.

   Merry and Panic both wanted mushrooms and sweet onions and maybe even gravy with theirs. Merry ended up taking a turn manning the big fire cooking griddle. While doing a big plate generic like everyone else was settling on, she had scouted up a small can of mushrooms. Then an instant packet of dark steak gravy. When handed an onion, she rejected it. She went looking and switched for a different one. Skykid had taught her that if she stuck with sweet Vidalia onions, she would have more success.

   She chopped the sweet Vidalia slices up until they were white dots, then put the butter to them, in a large cast iron skillet off to the side of the big camp griddle. When she had the tiny dots of onion well browned, she put it off onto the warm only side, while she griddle-d the mushrooms. When Panic and her were both happy, she joined the mushrooms and sweet caramelized onion bits, and added the packet of fake gravy and added a little water and some fat drippings. She then made a small heap of Deer Philly steak slices for their own consumption.

   They piled their own subs out of their own batch she had just made, and Bitty Kitty was happy to sit next to the pan and either guard it, or take little pieces of meat out for himself. They poured him a little bit of gravy and juice out, so he could lick that as well. Merry and Panic went for a short walk directly after getting their food ready, while waiting for it to cool down enough to eat. Someone pronouced it a piss break, and someone else pronounced it a kiss break. In truth, they said it was both when asked after they made it back a few minutes later. They left out the part about sharing a hand-rolled cigarette for the purposes of eating more and relaxing.

   The big cauldron of soup was simmering, and would augment later sandwiches and snacks throughout the night for everyone. Merry and Panic had commandeered one of Scott's double camp chairs. Two sturdier than normal folding camping chairs joined together, with a small, light table in between the inner armrests. The cat took turns sitting on either lap, or lazing on the table between them. They were happy to see Bitty Kitty had a nice setup in their absence. If life was like this for him while they were gone, he was living fairly well though he was missing them.

   "Hmm. Someone, has gotten a little more spoiled, while we were on the road."

   "Not like we wouldn't have done it. You don't suppose this is all a show, of how well they treated him, do you? Most of your hunter buddies, ain't real big on cats, you know."

   "No, I'm buying it. If you look, he has his own table someone made for him. They put his name on it. It's right next to the cooking. Honestly? Looks like he's used to sitting there, waiting on it."

   Merry giggled.

   "What?"

   "The old joke. Dogs have owners… cats have staff."

   Hunting stories seemed to take priority over other expected topics of conversation. Past hunts. Future planned hunts. Recent hunts, hunts coming up in a couple weeks. Missed trophies, and bagged trophies, with pictures. You're eating it, was a popular in joke to quizzing them about the animal they supposedly bagged if they didn't have a picture to go with the story. Bluedot liked catching up on fishing lore, seemingly because he self admitted spring summer fall was pond season, and he had to make the hay while the sun was shining… literally.

   Merry found the big container of oil, and took a couple cups out to make french fries for Panic. When her french fries came out circular, she had to label them home fries, to make Scott Bluedot happy. Panic dipped his in the coffee mug of gravy that Bitty Kitty occasionally took a tiny couple of licks from. Merry already knew that eating out of the same dish as the cat did, in no way affected him at all. If anything, it pleased him. They were sharing, like litter mates.

   Merry thought about her new child psychology model and view theory. A child, with no friends his own age, and little to no positive or fulfilling social interaction? Wanted desperately to belong into some structure or hierarchy. An animal friend, was good. Treating each other like litter mates? Would be great. Two animals close to each other would eat together and not fight over who owned the food dish or food source.

   A human friend? Would say hello and you back. You might hug, or shake hands. A cat would come close and bump foreheads with you. It was the same thing. As a child, he hadn't been kidding or exaggerating. It wasn't just a phase. He was literally friends with animals. He treated his animal friends as if they were honorary humans and this therefore entitled his animal friends to absolutely anything and everything a human friend was entitled to, bar none. The animals, in return, seemed to treat him as a fellow cat, or a fellow dog. The cat? Learned and adopted some of his human behaviors and characteristics. He, in return, had adopted some or more of their characteristics and behaviors.

   He had once likened being trained as he was to fight and plan, to being made into an attack dog. Why not be your own attack dog, and handle your own security. Whoever had given him this analogy? He had taken it to heart, whether knowingly or subconsciously. A well trained attack dog had different personalities, depending on what the situation was like at the moment. The thoroughly dangerous dog was content to lay and roll around on the floor, watching cartoons with children. Their ear tugging and eye poking would be dismissed, as the dog would do for puppies.

   If a stranger presented suddenly, and acted loud and/or aggressively? You jump up, and you confront the threat. You instantly assess the threat level. If it's bad enough, you charge in and take it down or drive it away. You do it viciously enough that it will never come back to threaten your pack again. Then? You calmly walk right back over, and plop down and lay with the kids watching cartoons again. You're no lap dog that's useless to a serious threat. You're also absolutely no danger to the innocent children or small women around you. All friendly and luvvy dubby. A living teddy bear.

   Merry had once laughed, when he had told her the best way to understand him? Was to view him as a dog that looked like a human. He had then rolled over, and asked for belly rubs, and wiggled and kicked his legs about while he received the tummy rubs. She had laughed, he was being silly and goofy and fun with his new girlfriend.

   He had straight up told her, in the beginning, what he was and how to treat him. Whether he realized it or not, was immaterial. Just when you thought he was being silly, he was being quite literal and matter of fact, you just didn't realize it. Sometimes though, he was being quite serious, and new people not used to him thought he was making a joke or that what he was saying could be ignored or dismissed. It made him sometimes appear quite complicated. He really wasn't very complex at all. What was her new vocabulary word she had recently learned? Oh yes. He was based. Simple, direct, and moral.

   Asking to wait for eating and some relaxing first, had only bought Panic so much time. Deflecting and changing the subject back onto others talking hunting, again only bought him so much more time. Once the after dinner beers started coming out, he started getting quizzed again. He tried to go with the no comment lines, and over time this worked less and less. Dramatic moans, groans, and balled up napkins and empty Styrofoam drinking cups thrown with good nature in his direction.

   Merry was mildly amused watching him go through this.

   "So you did get shot."

   "Ah. More like… grazed. Honestly, you can get poked in the arm by a stick on a dirt bike, and it could be worse."

   Everyone mobbed him to see his scar.

   "Did you really shoot the guy?"

   "Yeah."

   "How many times?"

   "Mag dump."

   "Christ, did he have a vest on?"

   "No. You know how you're supposed to keep shooting, until the threat is down?"

   "Yeah…"

   "Well… asshole was up against a doorway… so… I kept popping him. He went down while I was reloading."

   "Was it really a dirty cop, with a badge in his hand?"

   "Now… where would you hear a thing like that…"

   "Internet."

   "What are you talking about. I'm not supposed to talk about this stuff too much, until the trials are over, you know."

   He got shown first a cellphone, with a news story in it. Someone's tablet named him as the shooter. When talk soon drifted to asking about Merry, and the "dirty dozen" case… they both soon found out the jig was up. She was named in that case publicly, in news stories coming out. Some intrepid internet user, had linked up the "steakhouse Valkyrie" CCTV footage floating around cyberspace… and figured out that was the mystery woman in the dirty dozen shootout. The novelty of a woman releasing a manifesto, before going into what could likely kill her… meant that the manifesto was floating around the internet and social media as well.

   Acid is groovy, stomp the pigs… had been picked out of the manifesto and the phrase had taken on a life all of its own. Likewise, when she had added to the manifesto after it was over, another gem had been produced. I ran out of ammo… was an independent funny line now as well. It first turned into a generic response to anything not involving a gun. Why did you hit him over the head with that toy? Because… I ran out of ammo. Why did you throw the chair through the window? Because I ran out of ammo. Finally, some wise-ass had taken it to some ultimate conclusion. Why did you shoot it? Because… I ran out of ammo. Everyone settled on this as so far, the funniest take on the ammo comment.

   Apparently, Panic's shooting he was involved in, was the appetizer. The main course, was 13 dead albeit dirty cops. Now it was Merry's turn to try to stall, deflect, play down, then finally resort to no comment. She cited that she was told to wait until after the trial was over to speak freely. After some time had passed, talk passed back onto other topics, and Merry and Panic stole away for another "kiss and piss" break. Checking they weren't overheard and eavesdropped upon, they wondered about it over a little hand-rolled cigarette. Panic just shook his head slowly.

   "Jesus. You'd think someone would at least give us a heads up, that our goddamned names are going public. You know?"

   "Yes. I'm surprised no one told us. If I forget? Kindly remind me to tease Uncle Mikey about that, next time we see him."

   Just as they were finishing up their little smoke break behind the bunk house, Merry's phone rang. She showed him the name. It was Mike. Merry shook the phone call at him before she answered it.

   "Speak of the devil."

   "Speak the devil's name? And he appears."

   In the course of the conversation, which also saw the phone transferred over to Panic at one point… Mike explained to both of them that papers and charges were now finally filed. Names had to be named. It was supposed to be put public on Monday morning, for the news outlets to dig into, but… somehow and some way… it had leaked out Friday night. Mike said he just got word of it himself when someone called him to let him know about the premature release.

   Panic asked what the difference between a leak, and a premature release of information, exactly was. Mike claimed that if it was never meant to be released? It was a leak. If the release date was compromised to happen early? It was a premature release of information. Mike added that the only "saving grace", was that their addresses were listed as Merry's apartment for her, and Panic's house for him. Simply because that was what both their ID's said.

   They went back to the campfire and the social gathering. A couple hours later, Panic started getting first texts, then phone calls. From his neighbor at home. Wondering why there were news vans parked everywhere, and why "assholes" were marching around everyone's yard, and knocking on their doors, wanting information on Panic and his whereabouts. Panic briefly explained that something had happened, without saying exactly what, and apologized for the "circus" going on there.

   Merry soon had her calls. Waitress girlfriends were curious about the reporters coming to the steakhouse. They were asking about Merry and her whereabouts. After failing at that? Anything anyone could tell them about anything. The upside was that it seemed to be good for the steakhouse; they were apparently doing a landmark business while this went on.

   Merry discovered she felt gently put off by it all. She didn't necessarily like the sudden interest everyone seemed to have for her. Out of the corner of her eye, she was sure she was catching the guys looking at her. It was winter, so she had no legs showing, no cropped T shirts to account for the covert glances. She tried telling herself it was just her imagination, but she felt she was noticing little groups of 2 and 3 talking quietly. Hunched in around one another for a quiet conversation. Stolen glances and the occasional gesture in her general direction.

   As a former athlete, she felt she should be used to people looking, talking, pointing. Fans of her team might cheer; fans of other teams could boo or even much worse. This seemed different though. Her mind played tricks on her. She imagined she could hear what they were saying, even though the rational side of her knew she couldn't hear them.

   That's her, right there. That's the one. The woman that killed all those cops. Later on in the night, she thought it was over. Either they were done talking about her, or her paranoia about it had passed. That was when she came up behind a new guy on his way to the cooler, following too closely. When he stopped and turned around suddenly and found himself face to face almost running into her, he froze. Nervous smile. All apologies. Nervous laugh before excusing himself and scooting off.

   Previously around camp, she had gotten friendly with Rob and Sky mainly, because of their close relationship to Panic. But, the others she had gotten to know over time as well. One or two might leave, and two or three more might show up to replace them. She got to know them as they arrived. This was mostly all new guys, all at once. She audibly overheard one new guy, explaining to another with the patented drinking stage whisper.

   She doesn't allow anyone to touch her, and if she has to tell you twice? She'll taser you. The third man giggled after sipping his beer, and glossed over the story he had heard on the website. That she knocked a woman unconscious for smiling and giggling at her boyfriend too many times after she told her to knock it off. A passerby leaned over and reminded them that there had been 16 cops came for her, and she only shot 13 of them. She took at least two of them out with her hands.

   Merry and Panic were just coming back around the clubhouse from a quick pee, and Merry had stopped them just around the corner to eavesdrop on the conversation. She just walked back several steps, and leaned against the side of the bunkhouse. Panic didn't question her about it. He had heard, and what was more was that he could read her eyes and body language.

   "Merry. If you're uncomfortable… we can go back up the trail, and go home. We can make our own quiet fire."

   She glanced over towards what was around the corner.

   "Nope. This is home now, right?"

   He nodded. Merry gave a sour little smile and whispered her explanation.

   "I need to get used to it."

   "True, but… you don't need to get used to it all in one night."

   Merry patted his arm.

   "Then there's the whole town. And after that…"

   "Hmm?"

   "Not today, not next week, but… eventually? There will be courtrooms, and people shoving cameras and microphones into our faces, as we fight our way into and back out of every courtroom appearance. Reporters. Mike was talking about interviews… no… I need to get used to it."

   "If that's what you want."

   "What I want, what I need, what I'm going to do anyhow… pick one."

   "Merry… we can't go to your motel, we'll get mobbed there. I can't even take you to my house, we'll get it there, too. But… we can go somewhere. Just temporarily. Where no one knows us yet. Our names are out, and our old addresses, but… Its not like our faces are splashed around. We'd have a way better chance of flying below radar for a little while."

   "How would that work."

   "Lord knows we have a couple bucks. We rent some cheap house, out in the middle of nowhere, just outside of some small town."

   Merry thought about it.

   "No. I don't wanna run and hide. You?"

   "Eh. I can handle people pointing at me. You? You're not used to it."

   Merry glanced back to around the corner again, towards the low din of conversations.

   "Then I get used to it. I'm supposed to have some idea about psychology. If I can't handle my own situation… kinda no point, if you think about it."

   "You ready to go back out there?"

   She shook her head yes, and they went back and took up their joined camping chairs. Bitty Kitty had quickly learned that when they went behind the bunkhouse, they were coming right back. He was sitting on the table in between their chairs, waiting. He went from sitting to laying upon their arrival. Neither one of them had been really drinking. They had three beers between them. None of them were empty. They finished cans of cold pop instead.

   They had previously pulled their chairs back from the fire when it was upgraded for heating instead of cooking, and now the fire was a little lower. The fire would get stoked again regularly, so there was no use in constantly shifting in and out. Merry patted his hand.

   "Hey. I'll be back. I'm going to get us a big blanket."

   "You want me t---"

   "No. I'll be right back. I promise."

   After a peck on the lips and she set off, Bitty Kitty sat up and looked at the proceedings now. Mom was going home, but, Dad was staying here. The cat looked from Merry's retreating back, to Panic sitting quietly. Then back and forth several times. The cat chose for now, to sit but to stay alert for further developments on this weird situation. Panic suddenly realized that by and large for the most part, Bitty Kitty now saw them as a pair. They left home together in most cases, they came back home together. He wasn't used to having to choose which one to follow around camp.

   When Merry was fully gone, the cat ended up turning his attention to someone approaching the big cauldron of soup. The holder was swiveled out to keep it below boiling, but close enough to keep it warm. A cheap laser thermometer was there so anyone passing by could spot check the sides of the metal cauldron and adjust the soup to be closer or further from the heat. Bitty Kitty jumped down neatly and trotted over to sit on his table, waiting on the camper.

   It was Birdwatcher. He noticed the cat sitting at attention.

   "Hey Killer. You want some, huh…"

   After he got his own bowl ladled out, he grabbed a coffee mug and put a small ladle of soup in to fill it up. He placed it somewhat reverently on the cat's own table. As an afterthought, he ladled up some meat from the bottom and put a couple chunks next to the mug. Then "Killer" got his head patted several times before Birdwatcher went back to his little group.

   It wasn't very long, before someone in Birdwatcher's little group looked up and suddenly noticed Panic was standing quite near them.

   "Hey. Didn't know you where there. Come on, sit down."

   "Well. Just for a little bit. Till Merry gets back."

   "Where did sh---"

   "To get a blanket, she said."

   "When she went off, then I looked up and you were gone too, we figured you two left---"

   "Nah. Hey. Any of you guys smoke? I could use a cigarette. After a beer or two, you know how it is. Anyone?"

   One guy next to Birdwatcher nodded, and went first for one jacket pocket, then through several more. Then started looking around.

   "I have a pack. Somewhere."

   "But when they turn up, I can have one, right?"

   "Sure, sure…"

   "Okay then."

   He looked up and saw Panic was wearing both a grin and a smoke hanging out the corner of his mouth.

   "Okay. Can you at least get me a light?"

   "Uh…"

   He lit the smoke, then tossed the man's own lighter back to him. While the guy was figuring this out, Panic tossed him his pack of smokes.

   "How did y---"

   Panic moved his hands and fingers around for a few seconds, making faces. His comical over interpretation of a cheesy stage magician doing the old fashioned Svengali routine.

   The guys all chuckled, and the guys on either side of him shoved his shoulders with good nature.

   "The, uh… guys on the website, that already stayed here… we heard about your little magic acts you do."

   "Ah. It's a hobby from my college days."

   "I better watch my wallet, you're a little too good at this, I see."

   "Oh, nonsense. I'd never take your wallet. Now… that guy right there?"

   Panic pointed for emphasis, making a comical mock face of displeasure.

   "He's the thief. He's the guy you gotta watch close, that would take your wallet."

   The "thief" started protesting, and the guy went for his wallet in his jacket pocket. Which wasn't there. Panic was grinning, and pointed at the "thief". Who held his hands up in comical protest.

   "Well. Let's see. Take your left hand, and put it in his right front jacket pocket. Thought I saw him making a move on you, I mean, that's why I came over here. To bust him…"

   He followed the instructions, and slowly put his left hand into the indicated right pocket of the jacket, and retracted his own wallet.

   "Don't worry. Your cash is still in it. I'm honest. But… if I really wanted to steal from you… I'd just steal your whole identity. Wanna play a game?"

   "Uh… sure."

   Panic pulled an empty chair up to the group facing them, sitting close. He did another comical Svengali face and hand motions, that ended with his right hand on his own forehead, palm facing outwards, fingers cupped. It resembled a little radar dish on his forehead.

   "That's the receiver. But… I need a sensor…"

   He held the other hand out at arms length, cupped palm facing out towards him.

   "Go on. Try to keep me out of your head. You better think of something, so I don't get what I want…"

   He made a show of making little beeping noises, like cartoon imitations of radar.

   "Oh. Thoughts like that? For shame… for shame…"

   The guys started giggling. A couple of hours, a couple of beers… and they were being entertained.

   "Because if I wanted to steal your identity? I'd need to know where you live…"

   Then he rattled off the guy's home address. When the giggling died down, he followed it up by quickly spitting out his drivers license number.

   "Christ almighty. I hope you didn't get my credit card number too…"

   "I only need the last four digits. 6351."

   When the predictable light laughter and shoving died back down, he continued.

   "Your wife was a pretty girl when she was younger. And those are two handsome boys you have there."

   It was obvious he got it all out of the wallet, so he held up the picture he carried around.

   "My mother's maiden name?"

   "Ah. I'd get that out of you, in conversation anyways. Too easy."

   Talk fell onto other random topics. After a while, Merry was back. She fixed the cat up with a large blanket all folded up on the little table, and picked him up gently and placed him on it. Then she wandered over to Panic, who was still sitting facing the little group of guys. She leaned over his shoulders and hugged him loosely with her arms, while resting her face on his right shoulder contentedly.

   "What you boys up to, hmm?"

   "The guys were just watching a little magic show, hun."

   "Aw. I missed it. Pooh."

   "Hmm. I might have one trick left. It's a new one. I've been working on it. Not sure it's ready yet, but… I could try it…"

   With the small crowd's encouragement, he had the "thief" come up and stand right in front of him. He put both hands on the small of his back, and grabbed the waistband of his work-pants from behind.

   "Now… if you just stay very, very still… I'm working on that trick, where the magician yanks and takes the poor volunteer's underwear off. Right in plain sight."

   The "thief" responded laughing.

   "Oh. This? I gotta see."

   Panic turned him sideways, so everyone could watch. He made some sort of pulling and grabbing motion, his hands seeming to come in and out of one another. Until… he abruptly pulled up, and proudly displayed a pair of women's underwear, that he had just supposedly taken out of the guys pants. This brought a small roar of jokes, catcalls, and finally a small round of applause. Then, Panic raised his hands, and put on a look of mock anger.

   "Whoa… whoa… and whoa. You pervert! I don't really mind if you like to wear women's underwear around, under your clothes. I mean, I try not to judge. But… Merry? Does that pair of women's underwear look familiar?"

   "Hey! That's mine! Give me that…"

   She yanked them back and inspected them. A catcall came up from the back, asking if he left skid marks. The guy in the original group got up to get a beer, and asked who else needed one.

   "Bird?"

   "No… I'm good."

   "You?"

   "Good."

   "How about you, Pantyraid…"

   This brought the expected round of jokes, laughter, pushing and shoving out of the guys. Merry stayed seated with them, with her camp chair's armrest scooted up against Panic's own. She slowly but very steadily came out of her little quiet shell, and joined the conversation. It was some time before they went for another "kiss and piss" trip during a break in the social action. When Merry leaned back against the bunkhouse and smiled, she pulled Panic in for a kiss.

   "What was that for."

   "I don't need a reason, but, thanks."

   "For…"

   "I came back, and all of a sudden… I'm no longer the topic of conversation. Thanks."

   "Ah. Guys drinking are easily amused. They're also easy to get sidetracked, and onto something else to talk about. Didn't think you'd notice."

   "Well, I did. And no one's acting funny around me anymore."

   "As long as you're happy."

   "I am. Now, there's just one thing left, bugging me."

   "Oh yeah? And what's that."

   "Question. Why are strange men getting closer to a pair of my panties, than you do, mister. Huh?"

   Panic chuckled.

   "Oh. That. Are you horny?"

   "It's been a while. I was gonna wait for you to come around on your own, for that."

   "Actually? Yeah. I feel more like myself, now that you mention it."

   "Okay then. I was starting to think I was gonna have to rape you, to get some."

   "Oh no. Not that. Please don't."

   "So. You think you might finally be in the mood then."

   "I think I could. Do… you wanna leave soon?"

   "No need. We don't have to be anywhere tomorrow. Besides… some anticipation is never a bad thing, you know."

   Merry kissed him, and with a roaming hand, "checked" on his "mood".

   "Apparently, I'm in a better mood than I thought."

   "Well. Little something for you to think about."

   "Hey, it's not that little, you know. Not my fault I'm Irish. In fact, in Ireland? This is considered pretty well hung, I'll have you know…"

   Merry laughed.

   "Oh really. All right, I'll play along. And… just how exactly, do you know so much about Irish cocks? Irish tits, I could understand. But Irish dicks? Now I'm starting to wonder about you and Speedy… and that club you guys go to."

   "Hey. We were working…"

   "Oh. So that's what they're calling it now. You were charging, to do this… research. What's a girl to think, you know?"

   "Hey. I used to be poor. Then I learned. If you're good at something? Don't do it for free…"

   "Oh. So I have to pay for it now? How much…"

   "You know what they say. If you have to ask? You can't afford it."

   "Um, try me. My boyfriend owns a bank, you know. You'd be surprised."

   Merry took a little container and their favorite pipe out of one of the pockets of her black field jacket she had changed into when she was back at the cabin getting the big blanket.

   "Is that really a great idea, with everyone around? A puff here, a couple puffs there, fine. But to smoke up…"

   "Oh god. They just loaded the fire up big. You can't smell a thing over all the wood smoke. It's been a while. Everyone had a few drinks. I'm sure we're fine. We could probably go back to sitting with the cat, and no one would notice."

   "You talked me into it."

   When they were done, Panic produced a couple of cigarettes for the both of them.

   "You didn't smoke cigarettes for a while on the road. Apple flavored chewing tobacco, vanilla vaping. I was starting to think you quit."

   "Well. Since you ask. You ever quit smoking?"

   "Not really. I don't smoke that much. Not every day, either. I never really worried about it."

   "Same here. Anyways… if you quit smoking, for about a week? You suddenly get a strong sense of smell and taste back. Vaping, and chewing tobacco? Don't get in the way of your sense of smell."

   "And?"

   Panic chuckled.

   "I figured it wasn't out of the realm of the possibilities of things, that I would have to go hunting. I need my sense of smell intact, for that."

   "But… we weren't on a hunting trip, we w---"

   "Hunting, Merry. Hunting…"

   Realization came over her eyes, what he meant by the euphemism.

   "Oh. Gotcha. So… you didn't ask to see the clothes I got delivered the other day."

   "No. I didn't. I figure, I'll see them eventually. Unless you show them to me first. Why. What did you get then."

   "Hmm. I thought you wouldn't mind. I got the… kitty ears outfit."

   "The kitty ears… outfit…"

   "Duh. The… cat girl thing."

   "You're a… furry now?"

   "No. You already know, when you use my laptop… that I can see where you go and look around if I want to. I told you. You already knew anyways. If you wanted to go somewhere with privacy? You'd use your own laptop or tablet."

   "Honey. If I was going to websites, and looking at… cat girls, in kitty outfits… I think I'd remember."

   "Are you… embarrassed?"

   "No Merry, I'm not embarrassed. Are you sure, you didn't just see some advertisement, on a page I visit? Because, some of the websites, can have some pretty wild ads, let me tell you…"

   Merry started describing the website, and he suddenly knew what she meant.

   "Oh… the image board. Most of the threads and posts, there's whatever picture they upload with the post text."

   "Yeah. That place."

   "Oh. Okay… see… different people put up different kinds of images. You can see all kinds of weird shit in those images they post. You saw a lot of… cartoon cat girls, and Japanese drawings, right?"

   Merry shook her head yes, then made a funny pose to demonstrate. She held her hands up and curled her fingers into little kid "claws" held up over her head and out. She also made a sort of comical cute growling face, again akin to how a kid in real life would do it. Panic chuckled.

   "Okay, I know what you mean."

   "Well, now that we're on the same page, and you know what the hell I'm talking about… when I look at… girly stuff on the internet? I have seen… instead of a tiara, it's kitty ears. When I looked at some… ears? They show you full kits, too."

   "What's a kit?"

   "Ears. Tail. Then you can get the… little claws. Cute little socks, with kitty feet and little soft plastic claws… you can get paws for your hands, too… or just get the ones that the claw goes over your finger tip. There's a whole kit."

   "So. You got a kit?"

   Merry smiled and nodded her head.

   "You tell me I'm like your cat. I see how you are with your own cat, my cat. I figured you might like it."

   She showed him on her phone, what one of the "kits" on a spokes-model looked like, advertising the product. He chuckled and handed the phone back.

   "You… don't want me to wear it? I was wrong…"

   "No, no… I want you to wear it. I just… I never did that before. Look, what I mean is… when you go on my one laptop, the one I get online with? I've showed you funny memes before. I have them divided up into folders. It's so I have a lot to choose from, to add to my text when I post. We all do it. Now… just because you saw a bunch of them have… one of those… cat girls on the meme? I just got the MEME, the rest of the image kind of goes along with it. I wasn't collecting them because of the cat girl images."

   "But you like it?"

   He grabbed the phone again, and held it aloft. So he could see the kit on the advertisement model, and her. He nodded his head yes and gave her a grin.

   "Said I wouldn't have ever asked. I never said I didn't want you to, now that it comes up. I just wouldn't have thought of it."

   "Okay. Good. Because the big kit even has the kitty teeth."

   Panic had to ask.

   "Kitty teeth?"

   "Yeah. The 5 dollar kits, have a little black clown nose, and you just draw on black lines for the whiskers. It's ghetto. The teeth in those kits? Looks like plastic Halloween vampire teeth, they're horrible. Now, the better kits? They have four little tiny… fangs. They have wax in them, and you push them on. There's a handful of them, you pick out ones that fit your teeth tight, so they stay in."

   "Sounds… professional."

   "Uh huh… I intend to bite you. Leave a few marks. On your neck. Like a cat would… the ad says, the soft plastic claws, are fun to scratch your boy cat with."

   Panic studied the picture again.

   "Okay, the teeth are held in with wax inside… the ears, are… like a tiara headband… I see the little socks and the hand claws… I just wonder how the tail's on… can't really tell…"

   Merry idly looked now as well.

   "Yeah… I was wondering that too. Maybe… they have, like… fishing line, or something like that… goes around your waist… I dunno…"

   "Oh well. We'll find out, right?"

   Merry nodded.

   Hardly drinking helped them stay up, and drinking mainly coffee and pop finished the job. Stealing the occasional smoke behind the bunkhouse gave them the quiet, fun silly aspect to the little fire party for the two of them. They decided that since they had been keeping to themselves and far too quiet in everyone elses casual estimation, they would stay up and close the "party".

   The huge blanket took a few tries to get working. They had used it sitting in camping chairs armrest to armrest before, but never in a double with a little table between the chairs before. They ended up making a giant tarp over their heads, then folding down the part over the head. Now folded over the cat's little table between them, the cat could either lay on top of the folded now double blanket or actually crawl between the folds.

   When someone asked where "Killer" had gone, they slowly lifted up the folded blanket where it crossed the little table. The tipsy blinky star member had laughed and named it a "kitty sandwich". When asked how Bitty Kitty turned into "Killer", the nickname was explained. Apparently after Skykid had left cooking duties behind with his exit, new and self appointed camp cooks had sometimes left things out when they went to bed. Most usually on weekends they stayed up late.

   Bitty had apparently been seen posting himself up near the cooking center, on the little makeshift coffee table. He was "guarding" the leftover food left out, from midnight marauding mice. He had recently taken to lining the dead mice up at the bunkhouse entrance. Also, his previous nickname had been "Garbage", short for "the garbage can". Simply because he ate nearly anything.

   Asked how, why or when the nickname had happened, it was related to them. Apparently, shortly after they left for their lengthy road trip, the group of guys had come up with the Garbage can analogy and name. As those guys rotated out and home, and others came in fresh to the camp… the mousing and guarding the cooking site had taken over in use.

   Late in the game, as the campfire and the party it supported was winding down, Bluedot who had retired early got up from a couple/several hour nap and joined the two of them. As the three people most sober, they had a more quiet conversation than everyone else was having. The revelry had hit the point that drunken songs were being sung, and good nature if drunken arguments over nearly anything. Out of nowhere, Panic noticed something for the first time since he had been back.

   "Scott?"

   "Holy shit."

   "what?"

   "I'm honored. You never call me Scott, you always call me Bluedot."

   "I'm bad with names, I'm good with nicknames. Anyways…"

   "Yeah?"

   Panic pointed to the entrance to the bunkhouse he was facing. Someone had taken the time and energy to cut out a half circle of thick wood, and bolt it as part of the door frame. It was inscribed in a foreign language.

   "The hell is that. Looks like German."

   "I thought you speak German…"

   "Rob reads and writes German. Me? I just recognize a lot of words."

   Panic got a little focusing flashlight he carried with him a lot of the time, and adjusted the head of the flashlight to a tight, bright square and played the small intense beam across the words, and Scott read it since he ostensibly knew what it meant.

   "Prazises schieben… macht sie frei. Care to take a crack at it?"

   "Uh… praise… something… fast… be… free…?"

   "Hmm. Not too shabby, Panic. Accurate shooting, shall set you free."

   "Huh. I like it."

   "Yeah… there's a story behind it. Care to hear it?"

   "Hey, why not."

   "Okay. Remember the joke, someone taped up a sign that nicknamed the bunkhouse Auschwitz?"

   Panic giggled.

   "Yeah. That was funny. When they went back and added more rows of bunk-beds, to fit more guys in at once? Someone posted a picture of the guys waking up… they're all looking up at the camera in their little wooden bunk holes… then someone on the website posted an old picture of Auschwitz, and… it kinda looked similar. It was just a joke."

   "Right. Well, shortly after you guys left?"

   "Yeah…"

   "One of our blinky star members came out."

   "Okay…"

   Scott gave him a face.

   "The blinky star member in question? He's Jewish."

   "Oh. I guess that joke went over like a wet fart in church, eh?"

   "Ironically? Not like you would think. See, he knew about the Auschwitz joke. He thought it was funny."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah. Actually… the joke on the website, was he said his wife bought him pajamas, that are… you know… black and white horizontal striped?"

   "I'm trying to figure out how the pajamas his wife bought him he wears, have any bearing on w---"

   "Panic? Think Auschwitz… then think about the outfits the prisoners wore…"

   "Oh! Gotcha. So… our Jewish member even thought it was funny, and brought his… novelty… camp pajamas. So, no one was offended."

   "Right. He had a picture taken, like our now infamous Auschwitz picture… where he's in the middle bunk, wearing the… shoah pajamas, he calls them."

   Panic chuckled.

   "Glad he has a sense of humor about it. So… where's the problem coming from, then."

   "Yeah. So everyone on our site, gets the joke. The guy with the pajamas? He shows the picture around to his friends, he thought it was funny. Apparently, um… the picture got shared one too many times, and someone saw it that definitely did not get the joke."

   "Oh shit."

   "More like… Oy Vey."

   "Yeah. So… how did that end up."

   "Uh, the picture finds it way to someone, that works at one of those… stop the internet hate speech groups? A big one."

   "Oh fuck. Are we in trouble?"

   "Not exactly. He got in trouble, with them. Apparently, they tracked down the picture to him."

   "Let me get this straight. We have a private club joke. We have a Jewish member, who even thinks it's funny. Then… the Jewish watchdog groups, jumped him about it? He's Jewish! I mean, everyone knows the rules. Only Jewish comedians, are allowed to make Jewish jokes in public."

   "Well… he caught hell for it."

   "This is so silly."

   "I know. He shared some of the emails he had back and forth with that place. It's unbelievable."

   "Give me the condensed version… highlights…"

   "The… guy from the place doing the emailing… claimed he investigated him. He was very unhappy that he's married to a non-Jewish wife. That particular email? Christ… they called his wife some very unsavory things."

   "I'm almost afraid to ask."

   "In our member's own words? Apparently… goyim, was the nicest thing they called her."

   "Ouch. He got pissed."

   "He did. You can imagine some of the back and forth that got emailed from that point on."

   "I assume, you about need a Yiddish dictionary to translate half of it."

   "Yes. One of the emails, the guy claimed that he was a horrible Jew, and that they were going to be in contact with his own Rabbi at his church, or… temple or whatever… in his hometown."

   "They threatened to basically tell on him, to his own priest of his own church?"

   Scott nodded.

   "He responded, by sending back an email from his own Rabbi, who said he had heard and read everything, and that he had a talk with him. And that the Rabbi declared that it was okay, that we are… I don't know… shabby Goyim to him? Something like that."

   Panic started chuckling, and ended up laughing.

   "I think you mean… we are now Shabbos Goyim."

   "I guess. What does that mean. I don't have my phone on me, to translate."

   "Uh, origial meaning, is… well, you know Jews can't come out of the house on the sabbath. Work on the sabbath."

   "Okay, yeah."

   "well. A Shabbos goy, is their friend that can work that shift to cover for them, that can go to the store if they need something. You know, do something for them, that they are prohibited doing for themselves for whatever reason."

   "You said original meaning…"

   "Well, basically a goyim friend of the jews."

   "Sounds good to me."

   Panic sighed.

   "Yeah, it's good. Now. Since you went through all that silly drama I missed. The hell does all that have to do with that writing…"

   "Oh. Well, the Jewish guy got pissed. He went out and had someone make that sign. Apparently, it's a kind of a joke about what the original words above the entrance to Auschwitz said."

   "Hmm. Which was?"

   "He said it was… Hard work shall set you free. He basically recreated the Auschwitz sign, to read… accurate shooting will set you free."

   "Are we safe now? Or am I going to wake up with a shit load of Jewish people protesting and raising kosher hell here. The website doesn't need that kind of negative publicity. We're not a goddamn Nazi militia, for Christ's sake."

   Scott smiled.

   "No. We're safe. A rabbi declared us kosher."

   "I wonder if I can get that in writing, just in case."

   "Panic? Aren't you… fishing buddies with the chief of police here?"

   "Yeah. Me and Merry have donuts and coffee, any morning we get there early enough before the shift starts. I don't think he's Jewish though, if y---"

   "I don't care if he's Chinese, I just thought you might mention all this to him. You know, just in case anyone shows up marching and whining?"

   "Oh. Sure. Our property owner is important in town, and… his only request is complete privacy, and to have his no trespassing signs strictly enforced."

   "Protesters can go on public property though."

   "The property line goes all the way up to the road up there. They'd have to park practically on the road, on a blind turn. Police would never go for that, I'm pretty sure, not to mention they'd be harassing George."

   "Well, they could just park on the other side of the road, then…"

   Panic smiled.

   "Nope. He owns past the road, too. Up to the wood-line on the far side. They'd have to drive through private property, to get off his land. The property is fucking huge, Bluedot."

   "Well, mention it to the chief, would you? Just in case anything happens."

   "I will. Honey, have you ever heard anything so silly?"

   Merry wagged her head.

   "Not in a while. What do you think, Panic. Monday morning, maybe?"

   "I guess. I have to be up and in town early Monday anyways. Might as well let the chief know we're kosher, over donuts and coffee."

   "Panic… I don't care, but I'm just curious. Why do we have to be in town early Monday?"

   He put his arms around her, and grinned.

   "Real estate lady. She's going to have all the keys she needs, and show me around the bank. I'll probably surprise her, with a shoe-box of cash. Unless… you think we should wait a long time, for your boyfriend to buy a bank."

   Merry cocked her head, and smiled.

   "Oh. I thought maybe you were all hot and bothered, to meet the new donut girl again."

   Panic chuckled. Merry grabbed him playfully but decidedly rough, by the chin as she was wont to do sometimes.

   "You already know what can happen to you. But I have to admit, we haven't had much privacy lately. Maybe you need a refresher course."

   Merry still had her reclaimed underwear that had been used for the magic act joke in her jacket pocket. She took them out and dangled them in front of his face with one hand, the other hand still grabbing his chin playfully rough.

   "Hmm. My big night we talked about?"

   She smiled and teased him, yanking the panties back as she did so.

   "Not yet. I'm waiting for the physical aspect of our personal life, to settle back down to normal. But soon."

   "Damn. I was starting to think I was in trouble again."

   Merry switched from pretending to be rough, to draping her arms around his neck and shoulders, and drew him in to kiss him slowly. She spoke into his neck in her now permanently rusty voice.

   "Well, if you want to get into trouble…"

   "Oh. I think I might."

   "Well… after some kitty fun tonight, we'll figure out some way for you to get into some fun trouble. Just not tonight. I don't think it fits in with cat girl night."

   "You're like a dinosaur, you know that, right?"

   "What. I'm big and scary. Gee, thanks."

   "I meant they don't make women like you anymore."

   "Nice recovery."

   "Thank you."

   Merry raised her hands and showed her teeth. She had obviously picked up on the cute pose from the cat girl anime images she had seen on the website she lurked.

   "I'm the last of my kind. I'm a Meowsaurus… Rrrrr!"

   Panic grinned.

   "How did your species go extinct, what happened."

   "It was the mating behavior. It was rough and dangerous."

   "I see. The females weren't smaller and weaker than the males, were they?"

   "No. In fact, you know how the males of most species fight over mating rights?"

   "Sure."

   "The female Meowsaurus, did it too. To claim a mate? A female Meowsaurus would first mark her prospective mate. With her scent. Then, if any other female Meowsaurus came around interested? Hoo boy."

   "Interesting. Female combat ritual, for mating rights."

   "When the female Meowsaurus was satisfied, that all the other females understood this was her mate? Then the real mating ritual began."

   "How did that go?"

   "The selected male, then had to prove himself. To claim his mate."

   "And how did the male do that, I wonder."

   "First, by surviving the mating ritual. Then, by winning what archaeologists call, the mating fight."

   "Sounds rough."

   "Very. To the casual observer? It looked like they were trying to kill each other. The selected male, had to win this mating fight, to claim his prize."

   "What happened after that was all over."

   "They mated for life. And if something happened, they typically never took another mate. You have to understand, life was dangerous back then."

   "Really."

   "Oh yes. For some reason, a male Meowsaurus would sometimes try to kill a female Meowsaurus. In rare cases, they were even known to track and hunt a lone Meowsaurus female in packs."

   "Life sounds like it was dangerous back then."

   "Very. Still, they were interesting creatures."

   "How so."

   "Because as dangerous as these creatures were, once they pair bonded? They were known to be surprisingly tender and caring to each other."

   "Any archaeological record that sheds any light onto this aspect of their behavior?"

   "Some. It seems the male would relocate the female, to a safer location for a nest. The male would make the nest. The females were known to feed the males. These dangerous creatures, would often share their nest with one or two small mammals."

   "I see. Were the mated pair, once pair bonded… dangerous?"

   "If they were left alone? Not dangerous at all. If they were bothered, or threatened though… most creatures wouldn't come around and bother a mated pair a second time."

   "Most?"

   "Some creatures that threatened the mated pair, no one knows what happened to them. They simply disappeared."

   "Fascinating. Are we sure they're extinct?"

   "Either extinct, or on their way. The Meowsaurus? Was replaced by a similar looking, but very different species. The Pussysaurus. They look like Meowsaurus, but… their habits and behaviors are completely different. Oh, there's rumors that there's still a few of them running around, and that every once in a blue moon, a male and a female find each other, and complete the pair bonding. Might even be an urban legend, some say. The joke is, you have a better chance of seeing two unicorns, than finding a mated pair of Meowsaurus these days."

   "You learn something every day."

   While slowly walking back to get to the front of the bunkhouse, and rejoin the campfire, Panic couldn't help it.

   "So. Any other trivia about the Meowsaurus?"

   "Such as…"

   "What was the female's eyesight like."

   "Oh. No known vision problems, but, studies of their remains? Have demonstrated that the females, had trouble seeing tiny things, close up."

   "Really. I wonder how the females dealt with that."

   They were hand in hand, as they slowly walked around the front of the bunkhouse, and back into the social circle. Merry took her reading glasses out of a small zippered pocket with her free hand, and put her science girl glasses low on her nose.

   "No one really knows, hun. Very little is known about these dangerous but fascinating creatures."

   They stayed as they had eventually planned on, to close the campfire. As the last of the campfire participants said goodnight and retreated into the bunkhouse for the night, they stayed there for a short time in the now novel quiet and peace. Merry had left a supply of the Philly deer steak on the warming side of the griddle over the dying fire, as well as some home fries and gravy. Before leaving, Merry dumped water onto the griddle, and swiveled it over the fire, and down to rest over the coals. When the water was done boiling and cleaning the griddle, she slowly adjusted it back up and out of the fire ring, and dumped the water off.

   "We've been snacking all night. I'm not sure we need this much food."

   "There's plenty left, if anyone wants some for lunch tomorrow."

   Merry had packed the leftovers up into cheap plastic snap containers they had a stack of on the big, rough wooden shelf for cooking supplies.

   "I… just figured we might miss breakfast tomorrow. Plus, maybe the cat will calm down some, if we have food there."

   "Good plan."

   "Now then. Time for one more?"

   "One more what."

   Merry pulled out what looked like an unfiltered cigarette, and smiled while wiggling it in front of his face to entice him.

   "Are you trying to get me intoxicated? Maybe to take advantage of me."

   "Could certainly be the case. We're alone now. We don't have to run and hide."

   "I'm wired from all the caffeine all night. This? Is going to make me positively silly, I'm pretty sure."

   "Well… I'm going to dress up like a cat, so… silly ought to be just the thing, don't you think?"

   They leaned back on a rough, stout, makeshift wooden table to share it slowly and thoroughly. Merry commandeered someone's unused small portable cooler, and loaded it with cold cans of pop. Merry surveyed the packed food and pop.

   "Should we take some beer?"

   "If cats drink beer? Sure. I'm happy as is. I don't want any."

   "This cat doesn't think she wants any beer."

   "Well unless the boys have started Bitty Kitty drinking in our absence? I'd say we're all good."

   Merry grinned.

   "I hope not. But then again, he grew up living outside. He eats anything. I guess he might drink beer, if he found some."

   Panic grabbed up their leftover couple of beers they took a few swigs out of before leaving them around for decorations around them, to blend in. He was cleaning up, but stopped. He poured some out onto an empty Styrofoam plate, and presented it to Bitty Kitty, for his perusal. The cat sniffed it, and took one exploratory lick. He made a face and took a few more. Then he shook his face, and disregarded it.

   Panic stood back and regarded the cats display.

   "It seems his majesty, has spoken. He prefers catnip."

   "Yes. If you remember, he also prefers human catnip. I can't leave my weed lay around, or he drags it all over, and chews on it. He trashed a whole ounce one time. That's how I found out."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah. He found an ounce in a baggie. Took the ounce into the bathroom. Ripped the bag open. I found him rolling around in it, batting it all over the bathroom floor, chewing on a big bud."

   "Did he get into kitty trouble?"

   "No. He doesn't know any better. He knew he was allowed to get into any food I left out. Why would he think he wasn't allowed. But… that's why I have that old wooden jewelry box for my stash, if you ever wondered."

   "Well. Are we ready to go?"

   "I guess."

   They set off hand in hand, one carrying the food, the other carrying the little cooler. The cat sprinted ahead of them periodically, and waited for them to catch up the entire way. They giggled and joked about what they were about to do, and how dazed they were now.

   They both stood looking. Panic finally shrugged and asked.

   "I'll bite. Cabin, or trailer."

   "Hmm. Cabin has the sturdier bed."

   "Trailer is warmer. Insulation."

   "Okay. I'm going to be half naked, and it doesn't make any sense for me to wear a costume and stay under the covers. Trailer it is."

   "We need to build up our… scent in there anyways. Right, science girl?"

   "Mm Hmm."

   Merry still looked at the cabin door, before walking towards the trailer. Panic asked her about her pause while getting into the trailer.

   "I like the cabin. I kinda miss our bed."

   "This is warmer. No more dirt floor, I remember you always walked around your motel room in bare feet in DC all summer. Carpet and linoleum. Water… shower… toilet… the list goes on. If we have any company over, we don't look like we're living in a… Unabomber cabin."

   "I know. But… I'm used to the cabin. I like it. Maybe we could just use the trailer, for winter."

   They dropped their food and drink packages on the little counter. Standing there looking at each other, Panic put his arms around her.

   "See. That's why I like you. How many other women would be… sentimental… about the dirt floor one room cabin. This is either a very elaborate con job, or…"

   "Hmm. I remember coming here, and feeling… safe… in the cabin. When people are trying to kill you in the city? The shack in the woods looks pretty damn good. Were there people around me, when I was in my motel room? Sure. But they're not going to come running to help me. Here? I feel safer."

   "Except for the witches."

   "Well. That was a fluke… plus? The cabin had security cameras. In DC? I was all the way down the other end of the walk, from the corner with the camera on my floor. Not to mention, but… I'm used to living in one big room. Hell. I'm about to dress up like a cat? And we can't even do… kitty style, on anything but the bed. We'll tear this thing to shreds, we try any of that."

   Panic giggled.

   "Christ. Between the two of us… I'm amazed the stove is taking it. Do you really like the Unabomber cabin better? Now, before you answer that. Don't tell me what you think I wanna hear. Just tell me how it is… so I can make the right decision."

   "Okay. You take money out of it, you take away worrying about what other people think? Yeah. I do like it better. I didn't ask Mike for this. He just thought it was a nice present."

   "I'll… do a few things to the cabin. But hun, you're killing me here."

   "What…"

   "You just got a nice, new house. Now, you don't like it, and you want the old house fixed up. Where am I gonna get the money, where am I gonna get the time."

   Merry started smiling, and pushing and shoving him for fun.

   "You better watch it, mister. I'm about to have claws, you know."

   "I can't wait."

   "Hmm. Get in the bedroom. I gotta change."

   When things finally wound down, it was not too far away from sunrise. It would have been daylight already, except for the fact that they were now on winter time. Being wired on caffeine all night had previously kept them artificially awake longer, but now they were depleted. Panic was laying there studying the ceiling, with Merry growing on his side like human ivy. Tired, dopey eyes paired with a slight half grin of satisfaction and contentment. Breaking the silence filled the gap before sleep. It was their normal habit to talk in bed for a while before sleep. Panic made a purring sound and broke the silence. Merry's breathing on his neck, chest or shoulder was an accurate sleep/awake gauge.

   "Mmm. That was something different."

   Merry chuckled into his neck.

   "So. I'm actually your cat now?"

   "Yep. I like the collar, by the way."

   "Well, you always said you were gonna put a kitty collar on me. There you go. It even has the damn little bells on the collar, like you joked about."

   "Yes. I liked hearing the bells jingle."

   "I noticed. And? I'd like to thank you for walking me outside to pee. Very considerate of you. Thank god no one's out and about at this hour."

   "Hey, you're the one that was purring and rubbing on me and licking me."

   Merry reached up and flicked his name-tag.

   "Hmm. You have a collar now too. I kinda like it."

   "Can't believe they have names, and owner's names on them."

   "Hey. Just like a real collar tag. When I ordered the big kit? They asked for 'tag information', so…"

   "Well? We finally solved the mystery of how the tail stays on."

   "Yes. I know. Trust me, I noticed."

   Panic chuckled.

   "The look on your face, was priceless. Do you know how rare it is, for me to see you blush, hun?"

   "Hmm. Glad you liked it. I about died when you were pulling on my tail, and…"

   "Ha. I honestly didn't try that. I just found it by mistake."

   "So you keep telling me. I wonder how you change the batteries…"

   "Oh. If you look, there's a little tiny rubber cover. Right next to the little switch. It's rechargeable. Just like a cell phone."

   "Yeah. Thanks for that. And I really would like to thank you, for showing Bitty Kitty my tail. He thinks it's a kitty toy."

   "Well, you are dressed like a cat."

   "I know."

   "Did you enjoy having two tails?"

   "That… was something new. I'm really not much of a toy girl, but… two? A little much."

   "Ha. Payback for the Popsicle, little girl."

   "Uh huh. I like my new kitty teeth."

   "Yeah, I noticed. Hissing, biting, scratching."

   "Mmm. You liked it. I could tell."

   "We drank way too much caffeine, way too late at night. It's like living in a dream."

   "Yeah… is this what it feels like, when you stay up for a couple days, working on something?"

   "In a daze, tired, but awake and charged up? Yeah, pretty much."

   "I guess I could see how you could get to like it, once in a while. It's definitely better than getting drunk."

   "All the smoking certainly helped."

   "And, I almost forgot to thank you for making the kitty drink her pop out of a bowl for you. That was very thoughtful of you."

   "Hey, I even wrote your name on it, and put it right next to Bitty Kitty's water bowl. You said you wanted treated like a cat for fun, so…"

   "Uh huh. You know. You ever notice, that I tend to do things first, then later on it's your turn? I'm keeping track of all the fun you had, making your new cat do things. Don't act surprised one day."

   "Promises, promises."

   "Ha. You're getting close to your big night, you know. Don't get too brave."

   "Speaking of which. You said, and I quote. Not until our love life went back to normal."

   Merry laughed in her deep voice into his neck. The warm, moist air on his neck felt intimate.

   "What's so funny."

   "You call this… normal…"

   He couldn't help but get the giggles too.

   "Yeah. We can start to… pencil in your big night now, I guess. Oh, and by the way… we forgot."

   "What did we… forget."

   "You said you wanted to get into a little trouble, for fun."

   "And?"

   "Mmm. Were you planning on taking me to the bank to look at it before you buy it?"

   "Actually, I was thinking of surprising you, but, then I mentioned it, so…"

   "Oh. I see."

   "What do you see."

   "Real estate lady. Meeting you at an abandoned building. Gonna show you around, let you check the place out. If you hadn't of slipped and told me about it? I can just imagine what might have gone on."

   "Oh…"

   "Oh what. You're taking a shoe-box full of cash to give her? You're buying a bank, and if she can talk you into it, she gets thousands of dollars, in cash, for her cut? I really don't know about this."

   Panic laughed.

   "I can just see where this is going. And I thought you learned your lesson the first time. I obviously didn't do the job right the first time, did I. I'll just have to make sure I do the job right this time, huh."

   "Ooh baby."

   "So. If I was to catch you two alone… in the bank… I can see where you'd be in a little bit of trouble later. Unless, you're a 'fraidy cat about it."

   "Mmm. Sounds hot."

   "Mmm. You say that now. Just wait."

   "Cabin, or trailer, you think?"

   "Neither."

   "Well, where the---"

   Merry clamped her hand that was snaked under and around his neck, over his mouth, then drew him in tight. She bit his neck surprisingly hard, and held on for a little bit, then did it a couple more times, tickling him with the other hand periodically. She purred with her deep voice in his ear, in tight with her lips on his ear.

   "Even though this is just for fun… when you discipline, your pet? The experts say you have to catch the pet in the act. So they know what it's for. So… after I catch you in the bank, with your little real estate agent? You can expect to get it there. Do we understand each other?"

   Merry nodded his head for him with her clamped hand.

   "Oh yeah… when she leaves the bank, it'll be yours, right?"

   He nodded.

   "Lights on I bet, too…"

   He nodded again.

   She went back to tickling him with her free hand, and biting his neck and shoulder.

   "Bank vault? Talk about privacy. I bet… no one will even hear all the squealing. I'll probably take the panties out for a little bit, just for fun. No one will know I have you there, and no one's coming to save you. Hmm. And just think… I'll have all the time in the world, to make sure you understand, this time. You just have no idea what could happen."

   "Shh. Now, if this sounds like… ooh baby to you? Nod your head."

   She felt as much as saw, the little affirmative shakes. We wiggled his eyebrows to show enthusiasm silently.

   "Aw. You like it. Good… now, do you have any idea how exhausted I am? Don't you dare answer me, you know it's rhetorical. Now then. I could understand, where this little… talk… might make it a little… hard… for you to go to sleep. So…"

   Merry opened up her free hand in front of his face.

   "You see that? You know what it is, right?"

   He tried to nod.

   "Yeah, you do. Now. Push the little button, on mommy's little ring…"

   The stiff rubber "ring" had the spherical "jewel" turned to the inside of her hand. When he clicked the little rubber covered button, it made a dull noise. She clamped her hand even tighter over his mouth, and the free hand slid under the covers. The noise and jumping were instantaneous. She laughed, started and stopped, then finally quit teasing him and went steady.

   "Shh. Sit still. You want me to quit? Huh?"

   She quit to emphasize it, then started again. When she finally got the twisting and pulling and noises she was waiting for, her head and shoulders disappeared under the covers. He had forgotten about her new, sharp little teeth, and was suddenly reminded that they were there. She finally came up, smiling.

   "Shh, there now… it's all over… you think you can sleep now?"

   "Oh yeah… thank you…"

   "Hmm. No problem. You're welcome."

   Merry waited a little while, before sleepily talking into his neck again.

   "Hey. Wanna know a secret?"

   "Sure…"

   "More of a… confession, really."

   "If you turn out to be a dog person? That, is a deal-breaker, honey."

   Merry convulsed involuntarily with brief laughter. The hot, moist puffs of air on his neck and shoulder felt as wonderful as ever. Her stomach muscles moving was a thing that he could feel on his hip, and her leg slung over him twitched in time to the peals of laughter she was trying to suppress.

   "Ah… no, seriously. Like a lot of stuff, this goes right under haunted twat rules, but…"

   "What…"

   "Hmm. I might be… just a couple years older, than you think I am. I kinda forgot to mention it."

   "Well. How old are you. Your driver's license says…"

   "Uh, yeah. My driver's license? Also says my name is Merry. And we both know…"

   "Oh. Gotcha. So…"

   "Well. Merry only went to college, for about a year and a half, right?"

   "Yeah. One semester shy, of getting her Associates in Psych."

   "Right. So… Holly has a Masters in Psychology. I already told you, I'm just about to come up on ten years, in my career. If you do the math…"

   "Well. You graduate around 18. Ten years on the job? That's 28. Plus Associates, Bachelors, and Masters… six more years. That would make you about…"

   "I'm going to turn 35 soon. So… you're not 10 years older than me like you thought, more like 5."

   "30. 35. I don't care."

   "I didn't think you would, I… just sometimes feel a little bad. About all the lies."

   Panic laughed now.

   "What."

   "Oh, I just remembered, when you first got here. Remember the BB handgun, Rob got you? So you could learn to shoot safely."

   Merry snickered into his neck.

   "Yeah… that was pretty bad. Oh… my… god… is this the end the bullet comes out of? Is this the thing I pull to shoot it? Huh…"

   The both caught intermittent giggles about it.

   "You know something, honey?"

   "What."

   "I sometimes realize, like now. My whole adult life? Is all just one, gigantic… lie. Everything. My name. My age. My date of birth. Where I went to school. How much education I have. Where I work. What I supppsedly do in my spare time, with my supposed friends. I couldn't be any more fake, if I tried."

   "Are you that much more fake than me?"

   "How's that."

   "My name's been fudged. You know that."

   "Hell, at least you got to use your mother's maiden name. My name? Totally made up. You can go to your hometown, if you want to. Me? I can't. You have friends, from when you were young? I can't. You're light years ahead of me."

   "Names. Dates. Locations. That's not the real person. The real you, is what you are, now… that's what matters. And you're winning that one."

   "What do you mean?"

   "What are you, really. You're a tall, strong girl. Grew up playing sports with the boys. You went to college, and played more sports. That's the real you. A cute tomboy. That, hasn't changed a bit. You're actually… very much real."

   "And you aren't?"

   "Am I? I started out life, as a quiet bookworm. Afraid of everything and my own shadow. I changed, into… something else. Then? I guess I wasn't happy. I had to go and change into… what. A monster. Then? I came home. And what do I do, I change back into right what I was, before I started. I hide what I really am. I'm not ashamed of it, but… If I had my way? No one would know."

   "I've known for a while what you really are. Underneath it all. When you're trying to figure something out, or on the damn computer… I know I'm seeing the real you. When this is over, for good? I want you to do it."

   "Do what?"

   "Do all those… things you let me find on my laptop. I can see it. All the time. When you're playing on the internet with JG? You get all excited, like a kid. It's very sweet. You just look… happy. And I want you, to be happy. I mean that."

   "I'm not gonna be in trouble, for staying up half the night all the time?"

   "Obsessing over… chasing devils? No. But… you wanna write classical music, you wanna design your… cryptography system, and prove it works? Do work on your… programming language. I'll bring you your coffee, until I fall asleep. And if you're still at it when I wake up? I'll make you coffee and breakfast. I don't mind it, but, I don't like seeing you all… quiet, and moody. You know I like the robot just fine. I want a happy robot. Not a moody one."

   "Really?"

   She kissed him once, then twice more.

   "Yeah. Really. I promise. There's just one thing."

   "What's that."

   "This… thing. Where I can walk around naked when you're all busy, and you don't even notice…"

   "Oh, yeah. I always did do that. When I'm into figuring something out? All in."

   "Yeah, well. Like I said, it's fine. But… you shut my tap off like that? You're gonna get raped. In my world, the world I was given? I only enjoy certain things. Food and sex and exercise, are up at the top of the list. My… aunts in my family? They're not as tall and big boned as me, but… tall strong women? Are great when they're young and in shape. Most of them get huge when they're older. I'm terrified to wake up like that one day. I don't want to look like my aunts. You promise me, that you'll… exercise with me. Feed me. Fuck me? Yeah… you can do what you want. Hell, I'll put my laptop next to yours, and work on my articles right next to you."

   "Science boy, and science girl?"

   She smiled.

   "Mm Hmm. Deal?"

   "Deal. Um… over the next, what… 5, 10 years?"

   "Yeah…"

   "I figured we should… you know… make a little more easy hay. While that sun's still shining. Just once in a while."

   "Hmm. Are you… turning into… Trans Am boy about this?"

   "No. I just… figured we should end up with a big piece of woods and hills somewhere. I mean, if Merry has to one day… you know… retire?"

   "Die, you mean."

   "Whatever. I want someplace, something like George has here. But, for us. You know? 5, 10 years from now, if I have to give this all up? I wanna have it somewhere else."

   "Well… how much land are we talking about here."

   "Oh. I don't know. I know I want my own herd of deer on it, that's for sure. Big enough I can shoot a deer out my living room window, and not have anyone hear it."

   "How… big."

   "Oh, I don't know. A guy once talked about, his buddy inherited his grandfather's farm, out west. He said it was one square mile. A big perfect square, one mile on each side. I figured, that would do it, right? Woods instead of grazing land, though."

   "Fuck me."

   "I just did, didn't I?"

   "Smart ass. How much land is that?"

   "Actually, do you know what an acre is?"

   "No. Not really."

   "You played sports. You know how big a football field is, right?"

   "Sure."

   "An acre? Is so many square feet. As wide as a full sized football field is, then chop off the end-zones. Goal line to goal line, that wide… less the last ten yards. That's the easiest way to imagine it."

   "That's pretty big. That's one acre."

   "Uh huh."

   "So… one square mile, that'd be…"

   "640 acres."

   "Hmm. One square mile, sounds so huge. When you say it like… 640 acres? It sounds… so much more… reasonable. What would that cost."

   "Depends. The more remote it is? The cheaper. The less usable for anything else? The price goes down. Now, you get it on a foreclosure, or… an estate sale? As long as it's not easy farm land, it can be fairly reasonable. And by reasonable, I mean all things considered. I want hills, and woods, and dense brush. A creek, a pond, a spring… any water source. In fact, if it doesn't have water, and I have to have a water well drilled? The price goes down."

   "How much though…"

   "What people think of as a bad location, a distress sale. 1000, 1200 an acre."

   "Can you afford that, Panic?"

   "Mm. I'm not a millionaire, all told. If you added it all up, though? Add that box of money over there to it… close. But, then there's taxes. Any parcel of land like that, you get it zoned agricultural. Taxes are way lower. I don't wanna work a giant farm, but… you just cut some hay? It's agricultural. You let a bunch of cows or goats loose? Let them run wild and breed? It's agricultural. Or, my idea… you take people on guided hunts? The fish and game commission has programs that let it go agricultural for the purpose of hunting."

   "My nest egg? Honey. I work 3 shifts a day, 7 days a week, no holidays off. I'm Merry, 24, 7, 365. My special duty pay? Reflects that. I make almost three times what a normal agent makes. And I've never spent hardly any of it. Merry doesn't have money, but… Holly is forced to be a… save a holic. We put our eggs together…"

   "No. I don't want your money, honey. I just want you, and that's all. I'm just saying… what we just did, and we got that box of money over there? Why not do it, quietly, a couple of times. Done. Like I said. Make hay, while the sun's shining. What do you think."

   "Actually. When this is all over. I wanna go back down where we were, down south. I was thinking once a year. You've seen how it is for me. The dirty dozen? I'm a celebrity to them now. I wanna be able to document what's going on. Be able to locate all the secret turf bars, and places they stop at on the way down and then back up. If you wanted to, yeah. I gotta admit, it would make what I wanna do, that much easier."

   "What about Uncle Mikey."

   "What about him? I talk to him almost every night, if even a little bit, on the computer. Once the trials are done, I already talked to him about this. The boys already know, you have connections in the FBI. I'm sure you noticed, Uncle Mikey wants you to keep your… unpaid consultancy credentials. It doesn't cost anyone anything. You just basically have a piece of paper in plastic on the end of a string, really. Remember, Uncle Mikey's operations are cheap, and effective. His idea? When I go on vacation once a year… you'll move a small office trailer. Mike gives us those wonderful magic lock seals. No cop? Is allowed to break that seal. You? Have your magic FBI consultant ID to wave at any cops that might come around. It's easy. It's cheap. It's very safe."

   "Yeah. Until some doggy barks. Then what."

   "Then the dog barks. It doesn't change anything. They're still not allowed to break those FBI seals. That's federal. They can call the number on the lock information tag, and it goes straight to Uncle Mike. Day or night, it will ring his phone. 4:00 am on a Tuesday? We'll be waved on, in five minutes flat."

   "How suspicious will this be to… the boys with us."

   "The boys, as you put it… won't be with us. They'll be traveling nearby, but. No one likes having the hot potato on them. It's risky. Someone else, is taking the whole sack of hot potatoes for them, taking all of what they perceive as the high risk. For free, as a favor? Shit…"

   "Wow. You really thought about this."

   "For work, for my operation? Hell yeah. Here's the best part. If we're already moving the boys load for them, and Uncle Mikey already knows about it, as part of the eavesdropping operation? What you wanna do, well… there's just a couple more bricks under the floorboards. No different than the one we already did. Mike okay-ed me to get the pounds of pot, and gave us the seals. You, just stuck a few other things along with it. You actually surprised the ever loving shit out of me, when you did what you did… and I was wondering how in the hell I was going to get you to go along with this idea me and Mike had anyways. Kinda funny, really."

   "So…"

   "If you want a couple million, for retirement? It's there, and it's just about zero risk. Let's call it a fringe benefit package, or what did you call it that one time… an enhanced retirement fund? Cute euphemism, but… yeah. It expands me and Mike's eavesdropping operation exponentially, it enhances my reputation and my cover."

   "Merry?"

   "Yes? Mommy is very tired, you're starting to run a slight risk of being in actual trouble. Now, that said… what now."

   "Remember you said you were a couple years older than I thought?"

   "I said it, so yes, I remember. Why."

   "Well. I guess I have a confession to make, too."

   "Christ. What now… It's after 5:00 in the morning, dear."

   "You know, it's really funny. About your age? Because I didn't just take my mother's maiden name. To hide… Redwater, and Sigma."

   "What do you mean by that…"

   "Remember I spent six years in the Air Force, before I got out, and ended up doing my thing?"

   "Okay. Sure."

   "It might not have been six whole years. Could have been only four."

   "But…"

   "It was done to make the guys in Redwater, after they broke up? Just about impossible to track down. So… even if some investigative reporter had great contacts, and was somehow able to get a few names? You go looking for those names… they're impossible to find. Change the date of birth by 2 years, move the day by a couple days… maiden name… voila. My service record is real, it just doesn't show the last two years. It's me, it's the same picture, it's the same record, you can go and look up the guys I worked with, and they're all real. But… it's like the guy that was in Redwater, and the guy that was in the Air Force? Seem to be two completely different people. I was surprised you missed that. I told you, I spent six years in the Air Force. You just didn't notice the jacket said four years."

   Merry laughed into his neck again. He was always amazed how much he liked that warm, moist air on his neck. When she laughed, it pulsed.

   "We're both professional liars, honey. We're both… con men. In our own way. You hit that nail on the head that night. We were made for each other. This is too funny."

   Panic didn't laugh. Which didn't seem that odd to Merry. After all, they were both overtired, and and in the twilight between exhaustion and sleep. What did seem odd though, was that he went still. She both felt and heard him draw a deep breath, and sigh. He laced his fingers behind his head, and looked up at the ceiling in the trailer's bedroom. Then he sat up, and supported himself with his palms on either side of his pillow. Something was off. He glanced over at her, and his brow was furrowed. Then he went back to gazing off straight ahead. He was suddenly lost in thought, and she could see and almost hear the cogs turning and clicking.

   She thought he looked over at her again, but… that wasn't him at all. He was gone, just like that. She was looking into the suddenly blank eyes of the robot. He had just flicked his switch off. Something was up. It didn't make any sense, but it was obvious to her. Her brow furrowed now. Intrigued. Had he heard something, smelled something, caught a slight shadow out of the window… it didn't seem like it. She drew up, as tired as she was, and propped her head up by planting her elbow on her pillow, and her hand supporting the crook of her shoulder and neck. She reached out with her free hand, and gently put her palm on his shoulder. She started to ask something, but he just gave her an index finger. It said to wait.

   She waited, and the robot's brain gears clicked and whirred. Finally, after a short time, he spoke. Or, more accurately, the robot spoke. The faint, too calm voice she knew.

   "I'm going to take a piss…"

   And he slowly and efficiently swiveled his hips to put his feet onto the floor, and padded off to the tiny bathroom. Merry suddenly caught sight of something she hadn't noticed before as she studied his retreating back. He was positively covered over his back and shoulders, in small sets of parallel red lines. They went every which direction, like some piece of modern art's random brush strokes. She realized it was the soft plastic claws in her costume play kit. It wasn't at all as if it were the first time ever, that during the throes of sex she had scratched his back a little. Apparently, the soft little claws were designed to produce persistent red claw marks that weren't painful, but looked like he had been, well… in a cat fight. She decided to wait a little while to tell him.

   After he flushed the little toilet in the tiny bathroom, he padded back to the bed. Instead of getting back in though, he just sat there. She remained steady, head propped up on her shoulder, waiting. Something was up, and the robot would tell her when he was done ruminating over whatever the hell it was.

   "Merry."

   "Yes."

   "If there's one thing I've learned in my life, it's that when something seems too good to be true? It usually is."

   "Okay."

   "And I learned from Speedy about investigating. There's some golden rules to it, and one of them? Is this. To a good investigator, there's no such thing as a coincidence. Hell, that's how we solved this case. That was how we made a dent in it, and there was this little crack of a coincidence, and we wedged in and got going. There are no coincidences. Do you understand that?"

   "It makes sense. What's the matter, honey."

   "Me. You."

   "And?"

   "Honey. What do you think the odds even are. That both of us? Have different names."

   "Oh. Yeah. I'll give you that one. That… would be quite a coincidence."

   "All right. Now. What do you suppose the odds are, that we both have our age and birthdays changed."

   "Well, yeah. I can't argue with that, either. But…"

   "But nothing. You know anything about mathematical statistics?"

   "The basics. I'm not a math major, like you."

   "Odds. Take cards. The odds that the first card I draw, out of a well shuffled deck? Being, let's say… a heart? Is 1 in 4. Now… the odds that the next card I draw being a heart, are 1 in 4. In fact, every card I draw, there will always be a 1 in 4 chance of it being a heart. I mean, obviously until I run out of hearts, but you know what I mean."

   "Okay. Makes sense."

   "Right. Now then. The odds that I can draw 2 hearts, on demand, in a row? Is 1 in 16. Now, you can easily see, that when you want two things to come up, you don't add the two odds together, you multiply them."

   "I'm… not sure I'm following this, science boy. Maybe… spell it out for a Psych major?"

   "Will you admit, that the odds of us both having fake names, is a small chance? We're not talking 1 in 4, we're talking way more. Will you grant me that, on logic alone."

   "Okay. Science girl agrees with you. We don't have an exact number, though."

   "No. But we have some numbers. Let's look at them, shall we?"

   "All right…"

   "At the last census, I don't remember the exact number, but, it's a little over 330 million people. Rounded off."

   "Okay."

   "How many of those people, have some kind of… job that required them to get a name change, do you think."

   "Oh. I mean, it can't be that many."

   "Right. The odds of having a job that required a name change? Pretty slim, and that's over 330 million. That's not 1 over 4, that's not 1 over 100. If there's 10 or even 20 thousand total? That's 20,000 over 330 million."

   "Whatever. We're guessing, though."

   Panic calmly grabbed his cell phone, and tapped the screen a little bit.

   "20,000… out of 330 million? That's about 1 in 10,000. That's pretty remote."

   "I agree."

   "Now. How many people, out of those 330 million people… do you think have their age changed, too. A simple name change is one thing. An age change, is a bit more. Again, that's a fairly remote chance. Let's call that, 1 in 10,000 again. Just for something to play with."

   "Yeah… we're guessing out our ass though, honey."

   "Now, just like the odds of two hearts in a row being drawn, is 1 in 4, times 1 in 4, making the odds of drawing two hearts in a row, be 1 in 16?"

   "Go on…"

   "Likewise. The odds of a 1 in 10,000 occurrence, followed by a 1 in 10,000 occurrence again? Is not 1 in 20,000, is it."

   "Uh…"

   "4 zeroes, times 4 zeroes, is 8 zeroes, Merry. That's 1 in 100 million. Do you see what I'm getting at?"

   "You're saying…"

   "The odds that two people, meeting at random, that both have changed names and changed ages? Would be pretty fucking remote. I could most likely, pick 2 people at random, in the United States, once every second, for the rest of my life… and never draw the two of us, ever again."

   "When you put it like that, I guess I'd have to agree."

   "So you agree, that it's one hell of a coincidence."

   "Yeah. I do."

   "The more I think about it, I suppose anyone that had a name change for work, would be more at risk for having an age change too. But, we're still talking about some very high odds. I probably have a better chance of hitting the big Super-ball lottery, before coming up with… us."

   "Are… you accusing me of something, honey?"

   "No. I'm just saying, the odds are through the goddamn roof."

   "Where's this going, then."

   "1 in 100 million odds? They happen, just not very often. They don't happen very often… on… their… own."

   "But… they happen more often… when…"

   "When someone helps them out. You know, you've seen me cheating at cards. I showed you how I do it. You can figure out that I'm cheating at cards, even if you don't see me doing it. If you're watching me play long enough, and you keep track… the more you watch and just keep track, the more you can catch the statistical significance of things happens more often than they should. And it's because I'm dealing from the bottom of the deck. Literally. I massage the odds to be more in my favor, than anyone else at the table."

   "Okay. So I'm getting what you mean, by an investigator doesn't believe in coincidences. What… exactly… did you mean by saying, that when something's too good to be true, it usually is."

   "Usually. Not always."

   "But… what's too good to be true."

   "You."

   "What?"

   "I don't have the best luck with women. I don't care, but… I really don't. Oh, I can go out and pick girls up, and get laid, that's not any problem. And, a good bit of them? Yeah, it's a thing for a while. Then? Poof. Gone. I got used to it. I wanted a relationship, and… they just wanted to have some fun and get happy feet. I learned that if I dropped my standards? I could get them to stay longer. But… I could only prolong the inevitable. If you take this to it's ultimate conclusion? I suppose I could have dropped my standards to absolute zero, and… the fuck would I want to do that for, you know?"

   "Well… who would. There has to be some physical attraction to work with, you know."

   "I told you before, and I wasn't kidding. Female athletes? Are my… pin up girls. Hell, Merry. You've seen my laptop. Did you see any skinny bimbos with big tits on there?"

   "Actually, no. I… it was all…"

   "Girls like you. Tall. Athletic. Muscular legs. Big boned. You would think I could do a little better at that, because I crave something, that a lot of guys consider a turn off. And I don't find you masculine at all, I think you're really feminine. Cute face. Curves. I meant it when I said it. When I walk around with you? I feel like the luckiest man in town. If I was a billionaire, and I could just point at any girl I wanted… it'd be a girl that looks just like you. Every time."

   "I'm too good to be true?"

   "You're smart, and you know how to use your psychology degrees. Like earlier tonight. You didn't like that some of the guys were… a little scared of you, because they know now, what happened."

   "What they think happened, Panic. That was yet one more con, one more lie. My whole life is one big lie."

   "They don't know that. I saw what you did. You started getting the guys their drinks. You made it a point, to touch them on the shoulder, or on the arm, when you talked to them. You know how to put them back at ease. You can play people, men and women both, but… particularly men? Like a fiddle."

   "Panic? You know what my issues were, growing up. You know why I was so interested in Psychology, and then male female relationships for my major. I wanted to know what the hell was wrong with me… then I worked on it. Figured when my chance came around again? I'd have a better chance at it. I'm not playing people like a fiddle for any… personal gain. I'm just…"

   "I know. That part's fine."

   "Then…"

   "I'm getting there. This has been a long time coming. I've had an itch, for a long time now. That something's… not right. Off. Couldn't shake the feeling."

   "You think it's me."

   "I did. More than once, it crossed my mind. But… that's passing."

   "Glad it's passing, but, if you could clue in the clueless on exactly what that was… it would be…"

   "You obviously have all the skills necessary, to play a guy like a goddamn fiddle. Then, when you take into account what your job really was, and the unique… let's say… the unique situation you were in…"

   "There was a fucking bullseye painted on me, to put it bluntly."

   "Yeah. Your nice, goofy boyfriend you just happened to have wrapped around your cute little pinky finger, just happened to be the perfect attack dog to walk around with… so yeah. I wouldn't have blamed you, if you did use me. Hell, I'll do anything and everything, to survive. Who wouldn't in that situation. It's perfectly logical."

   "You really thought that?"

   "I said it crossed my mind, I didn't say it was what I decided. I always wait and see. Honestly, if you were just using me, for protection? I wouldn't have blamed you. But once things wrapped up, you wouldn't need me for that anymore. But you didn't. Then I thought, hell, maybe I'm just useful for the… 5 to 10 year plan. I got this friendly, eager to please, easy to control guard dog. Just rub my belly, and there you go. I'm useful for your operation."

   "What changed your mind, honey?"

   "Couple things."

   "Such as…"

   "Well, that day, after we went to the secondhand store? After we got home."

   "I honestly thought, I screwed up big time. I… really shouldn't have done that, I j---"

   "No, it's fine. I realized something later on. If you were trying to, I don't know, con me, play me, run me. That's the last fucking route a smart girl like you would take, to keep me hooked. No… you got jealous, and mad, and scared… and you lashed out."

   "When I was done, I thought as soon as I let you go, you were gonna run."

   "Eh. After the rough part was over, though… wow. When you showed me… the chemicals. I could actually smell them. You had me taste them. I could actually small, and taste them, right where you said they were. It was like… magic. And then… the touching, without fucking? Wow. Then, you wrapped it all up, when you showed me how…"

   "I popped your little tickle cherry, huh? Then you actually enjoyed it. I don't think anyone except graduate students in sexuality classes know that one."

   "All I took away from that whole thing, later on? You were just, trying desperately, to make things… work. And you wanted them to work perfect. Almost… desperate."

   "Great. I'm desperate. You really know how to butter a girl up, robot boy."

   "When people are desperate? It means they're scared. And what did you have to be scared of. You were scared you would lose me. You lashed out, then you were so sweet and loving, I… it was like a little kid, hugging a puppy too tight, then… giving it hugs and kisses. The little kid? Is just trying to make the puppy stay with them."

   "I'm supposed to be the one with the Psych degrees, you know."

   "Oh. You are. Then… you went out of your way. To protect me. To protect… us. No, these weren't the actions of someone trying to use someone. These were all the actions of a person trying anything they could think of, to keep someone. But then, the cherry on the sundae."

   "Oh god, I'm almost afraid to ask."

   "You didn't need me to protect you any more. Not really. They told me I was under the water, after I jumped off the Liberty bridge? Something like, over a minute. No one even knew if I came up, at all. You risked everything, just to get down there. Then? You jumped after me. Merry, when a person jumps and doesn't seem to come up? The last thing a rational person does, is jump after them, in the same spot. You were either going to commit suicide, or try to help. Some people will say that's brave, and other people will say that's crazy. Little of both, I guess. I knew right then and there, after it was all over."

   "What?"

   "That you weren't just using me. For protection, to further your operation. You were scared you were going to lose me."

   "All in."

   "Yeah, we all went i---"

   "No, you twit. All. In. How many times have you said it, how many times have I goddamn seen you do it. You don't think, you do. You go… all in. Do or die. You said there's no other way to live your life, when something matters."

   "You think Little Robbie, and me… have never heard how crazy we are from other people?"

   "Eh. I can imagine. You two? Are both nuts. You're two peas in a pod."

   "You're as crazy as we are, honey. Every. Bit. Hell, I knew it that night up on the hill, behind that damned bar. I gave you a retreat line. You wouldn't use it. You took my flank. And you held it. Most men wouldn't do it. But you did."

   "You said, I had to get my hands dirty."

   "Yeah. You popped up once or twice, I would have actually been thrilled, but… you kept at it, till it was over. Trust me, I noticed. I keep score of things. You risked your life on my account… more than once. I only have one explanation for that. You'd rather risk your life, than do without me. If that's not love? I don't know what is."

   Merry noticed that while he still sat off the side of the bed, and still had his back to her… his voice was slowly changing. It was turning back. He was done figuring out the big puzzle, whatever it was. Now, he was explaining something, long and complicated. He liked puzzles, and explaining things. The robot was slowly and imperceptibly, sentence by sentence, receding. The characteristic warmth and compassion was creeping back into his voice again. He was returning, though slowly.

   The light switch flicks off in an instant. It comes back up, like a really slow dimmer switch. You don't notice it, except by noticing over time.

   "So… if I'm off the proverbial hook. And, you've known this for some time now… then what is this. You started out with how big the odds are, and you don't believe in coincidences. I'm… really flattered, that I'm your…pin up girl, and you find it hard to believe that I'm really that into you, but… somewhere along the line, you… might have lost me here."

   "Getting there now, honey."

   "Okay."

   "Remember. When the odds are really big. And you don't believe in coincidences. Take the card game. You sit back, and figure out what the statistics are? I'm either the luckiest card player ever, having the game of my life, or… what…"

   "Or… you're dealing from the bottom of the deck?"

   "Exactly."

   "So…"

   "Me and you. And all this good luck coming now. It's either, a 1 in 300 million shot coming in, or… we have a connection."

   "Well, you're goddamned right, we have a connection, we j---"

   "Not that kind of connection, science girl. A connection. These things are either the biggest coincidence ever? Or, more likely in my book… we have something in common. Now then, what is the one thing we share, in common, hmm?"

   "Give me a hint? Besides we're both a little nuts…"

   "I'll make it easy. Who's dealing from the bottom of the deck. Now what connection do we share… not so much a what, but a who. Be logical. As an investigator, what's our common thread."

   "Well. Not sure."

   "You have a different name. Why. Or I should say… who."

   "Well… Mike."

   "Exactly. And, why do I have my mother's maiden name, huh?"

   "Because of Sigma, and Redwater."

   "Okay. You have a different age now. Who."

   "Well, I have to account for Merry's year and a half of college, in place of Holly's 6 years, so…"

   "Because of who?"

   "Oh. Uncle… Mikey."

   "And, why do I have a different age, too?"

   "Sigma. Redwater."

   "When you asked Mike, after that day in your motel room, about me… he knew all about the equator, didn't he?"

   "Well. He worked in Military Intelligence. That's why the director recruited him."

   "Yes. Remember though. He said he didn't run Sigma and Redwater, down at the equator. But… he sure knew all about it, didn't he?"

   "He knew of it, sure. And I was there when he said it, that he worked right down the hall, from the guys that ran it. That's how he knew about it."

   "Honey? Military intelligence, isn't like working in an office building. You don't know things about what goes on down the hall. Anyone that's the slightest bit gabby? Gets washed out. If there's no compelling reason, you don't ask about someone elses operation, down the hall."

   "You think so?"

   "I know so."

   "How…"

   "When you told him about my generic story. About special forces, and the equator… he confirmed I wasn't making it up, didn't he?"

   "Yeah… he said he'd look into it, and get back to me."

   "Right there. He could easily know about the equator, but how would he go about confirming whether or not a certain person had been there, if he didn't work in the office down the hall. Want another coincidence?"

   "Why not…"

   "When did he get out of Mil Intel."

   "I don't know the exact date. How could you ex---"

   "No. What did he say. Oh, right around the time I got out, more or less. And why did he get out?"

   "Shit was getting kinky, basically."

   "Why did Little Robbie, get me and Sky out?"

   "When… your operation, was…"

   "Kinky."

   He paused.

   "I got more. Remember he talked about the different Redwater companies that spun off? He knew all about them. He spent time in particular, talking about the guys that were doing IT work, and using former Redwater operatives, to go and… operate… to take care of the IT problem overseas. I'm just saying it's yet another coincidence, that he just happened to know I was a computer programmer. Did you tell him that?"

   "No, I don't think so. But, he could have gotten that off your background check, for your consultancy paperwork, you know."

   "He could have. But the odds are stacking up. You know how when you go on the internet, the internet magically starts showing you advertisements, for similar stuff as you went looking for? Uncle Mikey, reminds me of that situation. I'll go you one better. Tell me this. Before the shootout and the standoff behind the bar. Did you ever once mention Robbie's name to him?"

   "Um… I don't think so. I don't think I mentioned anyone by name. I always called them the boys, the range guys, your buddies. Pretty sure anyways. Why?"

   "I wouldn't swear to it, but… when he first met me and Rob outside the bar?"

   "Yeah."

   "I'm fairly certain, I mean that's my memory and all, didn't know I was gonna take a quiz on it later, but… I seem to remember he knew Rob's name. Without being told. Like… hey, Rob, how you doing? How would he have known that."

   "So…"

   "Whats his nickname."

   "Oh. Mike the Magician."

   "Why?"

   "Because he always ends up with the… impossible operations. The ones no one else wants."

   "You mean… like that fucking three ring circus we had going on down the equator back then. That bowl of milk was curdling long before the damn zombies came up from the jungles north of Columbia and got in on that mess. Coming over the border, wiping out villages, then running back over the border, where we weren't allowed to go. Then, I remember we had some change of leadership, we heard. Then? Fuck it. Go over the border, get those assholes, and don't get caught doing it. Who does that sound like?"

   "Mike, really. Go ahead and do it, just don't get caught. Be smart."

   "Mike's known who I was, before I ever met him in that diner that day. You had him check out your new boyfriend, didn't you. By name."

   "Duh. You were either completely full of bullshit with what you told me, or… I wanted to know what the hell I was sleeping with."

   Panic grinned from ear to ear. She noticed, that his voice was back to full human warmth. The facial expressions were back. The body language was no longer shunted. He had turned to face her again, he had twisted his torso, and brought a knee up on the bed, just to turn and stay facing her for a little while now. Grinning ear to ear.

   "I can't believe I missed this. Until now…"

   Merry's face was all curiosity now.

   "What name did you give him. To check me out."

   "Well, your n---"

   "Exactly."

   He could see it on her face now, and he didn't need to pair up a Bluetooth connection.

   "I didn't know your… real name yet. I couldn't have given it to him, I simply didn't know it yet."

   "Yep. Now, how did he find anything out, about the guy that said he was down at the equator. Without knowing my real name. Because all through the service, and then down at the equator? I was still using my real name. My real birthday. My real age. Now, even if he had access to any of that? There is no way in hell, he would have gotten anything… from using the name I use now. The date of birth I use now."

   "You sure about that?"

   "Sure as a heart attack. Look… what were you able to pull up on me, before I told you my real last name? Hmm? I didn't even tell you, I just used my DAD'S last name several times. When you picked up on that, you got stuff."

   "Yeah. And I got a warning from the prince of darkness on the computer, not to ever do that shit again."

   "I can see it all, now. I wasn't sleeping with you very long at all, when I got that visit from IA."

   "Well… you were banging Bloody Mary."

   "And. What came out of IA. You were there in the restaurant. I talked about it later. Before I knew who the hell you were back then."

   "You get her talking to us, you get…"

   "Unfettered access to information. Names. Numbers. Whatever I wanted, that Senior might be stonewalling me on."

   "That's IA… that's not…"

   "Uh huh. You're seeing it now. FBI IA… city IA… who sent them, to get me, to get you, talking. I mean, who's been the stagecoach on that case, from day one?"

   "Uncle Mikey…"

   "Exactly. You don't find it all very odd, and somewhat… coincidental… that from the moment I started sleeping with Bloody Mary. Uncle Mikey's favorite asset? The whole thing starts."

   "What thing?"

   "You. Your case. He couldn't just tell the IA guys what they needed to know. They'd want to know where it came from, and he can't burn his asset like that. You? Because of your position, can't work with the pigs. He sends IA, to get me to get you, to talk. Now think back. Who put you onto the agents, he put you onto, hmm?"

   "Duh. Mikey runs me."

   "He had a list of suspect agents, and he had you, go thru each one. Until he finally hit pay dirt. Honey… Uncle Mikey, has been working what's now called the dirty dozen case, with dirty feds and dirty city cops in DC… from day one. When you were just starting out. What was your job? You already told me."

   "Just… be a waitress. Close to the Hoover building."

   "Walk out the front door, and look for a steak. Where do you end up."

   "My steakhouse."

   "Yep. How do you get onto an agent."

   "I don't. I wait, until they hit on me. No suspicion."

   "What are all the waitresses and hired help in the city around the Hoover building called?"

   "Hmm. Cheerleaders."

   "Yep. The football players, which is what most of the agents really are. They walk out the front door for lunch or dinner, they want a steak, boom. New cheerleader on the squad?"

   "Well. Every football player has to take a crack at the new girl."

   "Yeah. You were to play hard to get."

   "I was."

   "Which made more of them keep asking you out. Competing with each other. Who could get the new girl. When one of his suspect agents tried their luck, you got the green light. He finally got what he wanted. Your last boyfriend. When he met the right people, and you reported it, and told him where to plant a few bugs…"

   "I wasn't so much checking out agents to make sure they were on the up and up. He was waiting for just the right one to take the bait."

   "He finally got enough info on the third suspect. Then? You got onto the biker angle. Which complicated things. Now, you couldn't talk to the pigs, and, he's liking this new operation. He's in a pickle."

   "He… couldn't make me… go out with you. That's crazy."

   "No. But as soon as he recognized who I was…"

   "You're right. IA. Get her talking, off the record. The city cases take off immediately. The FBI wives brawl? Icing on the cake. He gets more corruption and malfeasance, and… it leads, accidentally but still… to the biker operation. Pound."

   "Drug dealing cops. Planting drugs. The whole ball of wax. Let me guess. Uncle Mikey asks you fairly often, where Pound's hiding out at. What neck of the woods, doesn't he?"

   "Yeah. No one knows. The nationals put him in new colors, in a state out west. Under some new nickname. He's got warrants on his ass."

   "He's gonna be wanted, to testify in the dirty dozen case. Mark my words on that. That's yet another thing Uncle Mike is using me for. He just hasn't said anything. Yet."

   "How so?"

   "You? Are the only biker in your organization, allowed to hang out with feds. To put the cops they hate, in the hoosegow. Your boyfriend? Isn't really a fed. I'm just some regular guy. But… if I get wind that Pound is needed to testify just like you are… I bet it's my job, to tip them off the good news. Running drugs? Makes me look good. It makes you look good, too."

   "You could be right. That Mike's been planning this all from day one. It was all the dirty dozen case, from the start. Now the eavesdropping operation, was just too good to pass up."

   "And from the moment Mike saw me? He wanted his own… pet Redwater. Pet Sigma."

   "He did try like hell, to get you to work for him. He wouldn't shut up about it, trying to get me to do it for him."

   "He finally succeeded."

   "Wow. Oh, honey… by the way…"

   "Yeah?"

   "I saw something. I have to show you. Come here…"

   Merry picked up his phone sitting next to him on the bed, and closed his calculator app to instead take a picture. Of his back. When she showed him, he was surprised.

   "Holy shit. I can't believe it looks like that. It doesn't hurt at all. I told you, I love getting my back scratched."

   "I know. I sometimes forget you like it, but… sorry. I honestly had no idea it would---"

   "I told you. It's weird, it doesn't hurt. It just left claw marks."

   "Yeah, I guess it's kinda designed to do that. I guess it kinda goes with the… bite marks."

   "I have bite marks on my back, too?"

   "No… mainly on your neck, and shoulders. Here…"

   She took another two pictures, one for each side of his neck and shoulder."

   "Oh. Ha… I mean, it doesn't really hurt or anything, but… it sure looks like hell. Kinda neat. I can't believe it looks that bad, but honestly, it's just like a good backscratching."

   "Oopsie. Sorry, hun. I didn't know…"

   "What? It's fine. What do I care. Heck, I might even show it off. To the boys. You know, look how much wild fun I'm having, boys. Like that."

   "Ah, I see. I was figuring, it's on your back, and your neck bites. I figured it's winter, you wear your field jacket, no one would see it, but…"

   "No. Show that shit off. Can I get you to wear the ears, maybe if we hit lunch? They're really cute."

   Merry grinned and shrugged.

   "Sure, I guess."

   "Cool."

   "Well, if you wanna share it with JG, he's coming late. I would say tomorrow night, but, by now it's tonight."

   "Oh. Definitely. He'll get a kick out of the whole thing."

   "Really?"

   "Oh, hell. I got my own cat-girl? Some of the guys on the website will be jealous, I'm sure."

   "The gun website. Really."

   "No. The… other website?"

   "Ah. Gotcha."

   "Merry? Fun as this has all been, and I mean it is the greatest thing, but… we gotta get some sleep."

   "Yes. We? Drank way too much caffeine late at night, and… about the cat."

   "Yeah?"

   "Do you think, if we fed him now, that maybe, and I mean just maybe… he wouldn't go crazy and wake us up, when they start the late breakfast?"

   "Yeah, good idea. It might even work, as intended."

   The electric heater, now in their tiny bedroom in the trailer, was kicking up a storm in the even more enclosed space than normal. Merry laid back, and kicked her long legs up on top of the covers, and crossed her ankles.

   Panic padded over and filled up more of a plate of thin sliced deer steak than any cat had a right to try to finish, and poured some gravy over it as well. He came back, and decided that indeed, it was hot enough to sleep on top of the covers. When Merry asked if it was maybe warmer out now, Panic checked the little digital thermometer that showed the outside temperature without risking feeling it. It was actually a little colder than last night. The temperature was slowly falling, it was just that the insulation of the trailer was doing its job well and the heater was working mainly on an even smaller room than normal.

   As they lay there, relaxing before falling asleep, Merry idly reached her foot over and ran it a little up and down his shin. She still had her cute little "kitty feet" on. She had said she might wear them like indoor slippers.

   "So."

   "So, sleep."

   "Well. Last thing, hun, I promise."

   "Hmm?"

   "I, uh. Wanna talk about something. I want you to understand, up front? I ain't mad. At all. I just think you should know, okay?"

   "What."

   "It's… about your, you know, your appointment at the bank?"

   "What about it. I'm gonna look at a property. Pretty sure I wanna buy it, if I don't see something outrageous. I mean, I wish Rob was still here, he's the construction expert, but… he already said it looked good from the pictures, and from what we were able to see outside. I mean, if you know something about the bank building, just tell me."

   "It's not the building, hun. It's about the appointment."

   "What?"

   "You remember the donut whore, I'm sure."

   "How could I forget? Bitch tried to kill you, although I kinda owe her one, in a way. I get that sexy, rusty, deep voice. I just love it. I mean, silver lining and all. Sorry if I…"

   "No. I honestly believe you about my voice. Glad you like it. If I'd have known how much you wanted me to have a voice like a bullfrog, I would have paid someone to try to poison me and kill me much sooner. I mean, I do aim to please, you know?"

   "Look. I'm not making light of it. I, uh… I have a tendency to make jokes about things, instead of… stewing on them. But I can't lie about it, I do like the voice."

   "Okay, fuck my voice for a minute, okay sweetie?"

   "Hey. Sorry. Go ahead."

   "Thank you. You remember how the donut whore was… what was the joke, practically giving you a lap dance? Rubbing up against you, every time she got you coffee, or another free donut. Did her giggle hair flip, giggle hair flip routine, like a spaz?"

   "Yeah…"

   "Well, then you'll remember that I told you about it, and you didn't believe me. You didn't see it."

   "I remember. Yes, you were right. You happy?"

   "I'm not happy, I'm not gloating. I'm just saying."

   "Okay, you're not gloating, and I remember. What about it. Donut whore? Ancient history."

   "Right. Anyways. As… brilliant, and as clever, as you can usually be? You yourself admit, there's things you miss. Little things, that everyone else just about, seems to not miss."

   "Yes. I'm aware, of one of my many shortcomings. Thank you for reminding me, what do you call me again? Oh yeah… forest boy."

   "Well…"

   "Deep subject. What?"

   "I go on very different websites, from the ones you go on. Specifically, just about every website that has anything I can use for research, on male female relationships. You know this."

   "Yes. I'm very proud of science girl, her cute little naughty librarian glasses, and her many accomplishments in the field of… women's magazine's articles."

   "Right. I gotta tell you, hun. There's a million stories, that are concerning the… real estate agent ladies. I mean, did you ever notice, that almost all of them are women?"

   "I guess. It's not quite a girl job, like being a nurse? But yeah. It's like teaching, I guess. Lotta women, very few men."

   "Anyways, there's a million articles, about what goes on."

   "About selling property?"

   "No. About… what goes on, hun."

   "Well? No, I don't know. I don't read about real estate and women's magazine articles that much. What you could do? Is just tell me, maybe."

   "Men are always talking about having a fun time with this or that real estate girl, showing the house to the guy. The lady real estate agents? They don't say their names and where they live and work, but… plenty of stories from them too, about pretty much? The same thing. They straight up brag about it. Ha, I love this job. Rich, successful men just fork over 7 percent of the sale price of a half million dollar house. I just got 35,000 in commission, and I didn't even have to show him the house! Well, I just showed him the master bedroom, for about 2 hours, and he bought it without looking around at anything but my naked bod! 35,000, for two hours of work, and I loved every minute of it! Why would I do anything else for a living. I just made more than my husband makes all year, in only the last three weeks, and I get all the rich cock I can stand. God I love this country! I didn't even finish high school!"

   "Hun? These things, honestly, I mean I'm sure it happens here and there, but… these stories? It's a fantasy. It's, like… those silly letters people write in to porn magazines in the days before the internet? This is the digital version of the same thing. It's almost all made up, it's called click-bait."

   "I'm quite sure some of them are, but… Panic, you do know that there's no end to the number of small time, shady independent realty companies, where it's basically just a front for a call girl setup, right? Honestly. You see all these cute girls in the advertisements, and… the guys with money, the word gets around. That if you buy an expensive property, the girls put out to get those big commission checks. Look. What's 7 percent, of 60 grand? Phone boy…"

   "Uh… (tap tap tap) looks like… 4200."

   "Hun? Over 4 thousand dollars, for just showing you a property, that you're pretty sure you wanna buy already? That doesn't sound like it could get fishy to you? Come on."

   "Well… actually, because it's a property that no one has been able to unload for so long, uh, I think I read on the website, that she gets… 15 percent on it, honestly. The website says, a part of their real estate business, is specializing in fixer upper commercial properties, that would otherwise go to waste."

   "Honey. You're calling her up, and basically handing her 8400 dollars, in cash, to put in her pocket. For no work at all. She's gonna hand you the keys, walk around, and… that's it. You don't see the potential, for what I'm talking about… going on, at all."

   "Ah. Honestly? I think you're… over exaggerating things a bit. I told you, I met her in public. At the donut shop, in full view of everyone. Yeah, I bought her a coffee and a donut, we talked for about five minutes. She was required to give me some spiel about… how she works for the seller, not for me. How she's required by law to do some kind of… disclosure about this and that issues with the property. Like the roof? Then… she asked if I wanted to see it, if I was actually sure I was interested. I said yes, I mean I already got 2 grand down on the thing, that I can't get back anyways. I ain't working, so I figured let her tell me what her schedule is, she's busy… she called me, texted me actually, and told me what day and time was good for her. Which is Monday morning."

   "I see."

   "You actually don't trust me? Or… you're that jealous. Hun, if you wanna be a real estate lady, and make that kinda cash in an hour? I'll send you to… real estate classes or whatever, myself. Just promise me you won't start hooking or fucking the guys or whatever."

   "Panic? Shush."

   "All right…"

   "You know my friend, down at the diner? The one I talk to now when I'm there, since I've been back."

   "Necklace."

   "Yeah, the one with the necklace. Her name is Marnie."

   "Well? What about Marnie necklace. Or is she the one that filled your head full of this stuff…"

   "I said… shush!"

   "Shushing."

   "That? Is better. Now, she knows about me. Hell, every lady in town knows about donut girl got knocked out and slept at the shop for a little while after work, and what her eye looked like, for a couple weeks."

   "Yes. Top notch work hun. Love your stuff."

   "Do I have to finish explaining this to you, with my panties in your mouth? Or… are you gonna shush, and stay shushed, long enough for me to get more than one sentence out at a time. I'm tired, I wanna get to sleep. This is your last warning, by the way. Don't push it, mister."

   "You're so cute when you're miffed…"

   Merry shot him a look, and it didn't require a Bluetooth connection.

   "Go ahead…"

   "Anyways, I wouldn't say I was bragging, but… I mentioned how excited I was that you were going to look at the old bank, and that I might get a racquetball court out of it, did Marnie ever play racquetball. I showed her the pictures, like you showed me. Which let Marnie also see your real estate lady's face. So, Marnie leans in, and says quietly, that I should… maybe keep an eye, on that real estate lady. I asked her what she meant, and she gave me the look. So, what do you think that means, huh? Marnie's on my side, I guess the donut whore fucked one of her boyfriends a ways back. She was being nice, by giving me a heads up on the whole deal."

   "Or? She just has some issue, with the real estate lady. She figures, maybe she can get you, to close her eye for her. Honestly, honey. Do you seriously think, that these real estate agents, just… take you in somewhere, lock the door behind them, and you turn around and next thing you know, there they go. Start running around the property, naked and laughing? Dial 1-800-COME ON NOW…"

   "Honey? I actually trust you. Now granted, I don't know Marnie well enough to vouch for her, but… would you admit, that it would be a very awkward situation, if it happened?"

   "Awkward? Yes. Am I allowed to ask a question now?"

   "Shoot."

   "Thank you. My question is, do you really want me to get this bank?"

   "Yeah."

   "Okay. So… do I have to fuck her, to get the bank? Or, can I shut her down and still close on the bank. I just honestly might have to fuck her, or, you might not get your racquetball court, is all I'm saying. I mean, I'd be doing it, I mean doing her? For you."

   "Oh. You're just fucking hysterical this morning, aren't you."

   "Well. I do try…"

   "Uh huh. Do you see me laughing?"

   "Um. Actually, I don't. I was kinda hoping, this was one of those… fake mad things you do, to be funny… eh?"

   "Hmm. No. I'm being serious."

   "Look. I think this is ridiculous. For one thing, I don't know if you heard or not, but… I kinda bring you up, in any conversation I have with women? Without being asked. You know. I throw it out there, that I'm taken. Ask anyone, I refer to you sometimes, as… the wife. I call it? Being an adult. And… you're free to use that scintillating technique, in one of your articles. No copyright fees, or anything."

   "Honey? I know. I like it. Hell, I love it. I know we can't get married if we wanted to anyways, but… when you pretend, just in conversation, that we're married? I honestly get a little squirt in my panties. And, speaking of my panties…"

   She dangled them in front of his face for a few seconds.

   "Yeah. I thought that would shut your trap for ten seconds. Shush. Now… I'm trying to be polite, and that's not working. So I'm going to try being blunt. You remember the whole donut whore situation. Now… if you would have made a bet with me, over that? You know you'd have lost that bet, hands down. Right? Honestly now. You… well, you really can be brilliant sometimes. Really clever. But… we've talked about this. You honestly have no clue, when women are flirting with you. For Christ's sake, I had to about go cave-woman on your ass. Hit you over the head with a goddamn club, and drag you back to my… motel cave. Even then? I had to straight up rape you the next morning, you just can't take a hint. This? Is just not one of your many areas of expertise. It is, however? My area of expertise. You really should trust me on stuff like this."

   "Merry. Why… don't you just go with me, then nothing will happen."

   "Honey? I'm trying, to get you to see the awkward situation? Before it happens."

   "Merry, this is. You read a couple… fantasy stories on the internet. And oh yeah, your new friend Necklace says that---"

   "Mar-nie. Marnie."

   "Right. Necklace… Mar-nie. Doesn't like the lady."

   "Oh my God. Has it been long enough, since you hit your noggin off of that log, that I'm allowed to whack you upside the head again? Let me try explaining this a different way. Do you know how I got so mad, when we were at the secondhand shop? I didn't know you well enough yet, I thought I did, but… I was fuming. Why? Because I didn't think it was humanly possible, that such a brilliant guy? Could even remotely be that stupid. That the donut girl was giving you a lap dance, every time she wiggled up against you, to get any of us a donut or a coffee. I didn't think it was goddamn possible, that you could miss that floor show. Even Sky and Rob tried to tell you at the restaurant, and fuck me, even the chief was making wise-ass comments to her, to knock her shit off more than once."

   "To be fair? The chief makes a lot of wise-ass comments, all the time. Just saying."

   "You? This all just goes right on around you, and right over your head. So… when you made the crack about sneaking out to get a donut now and again, is the secret to a happy life? And you know I'm standing right there… and I can hear every word you're saying? Yeah. I thought you were rubbing my nose in it, after being such a sweetie pie, all fucking morning. Yeah. That's how I got so mad, that's how that happened. Now… before we were done, and I mean onto the sweet part that followed? Yeah, I felt bad. I realized you really don't know. You're… like, blind to this shit."

   "Okay. You're undefeated at this. I'll give you that. But… a record of 1-0, which is technically undefeated, honestly if you lose one of these, all of a sudden you're batting 500 instead of 1000."

   "You don't believe me? Or…"

   "Honestly, you know nothing about this real estate place, you don't live around here… and you admit, you've known Necklace Mar-nie, for a couple days. Why, don't you just go with me to the bank, and this won't be an issue."

   "Well… I thought the game was, that you wanted to be in a little bit of fun trouble, and… I was supposed to come in and catch you, and… that was the premise for me having a little fun with you. Now… I want you to imagine this, picture it. I walk in. Everything's kosher. We lock the door, and we go and you get to be in some fun, sexy trouble."

   "That's… the part I'm waiting on."

   "Yeah… now imagine option B. I walk in, and… I don't like what I'm seeing. You, are walking around blind and oblivious to this shit, like normal I might add. How do you think, that might affect your… level of fun that night. Hmm? Take a guess."

   "Hmm."

   "So… let's play a little psychology game. Word association. I throw out a word, you say the first word that comes to mind, okay?"

   "Okay…"

   "Timer."

   "Eh…"

   "Try this one. Repeat."

   "Ouch."

   "How about… privacy."

   "Eh."

   "How about… soundproof."

   "Okay, okay. What do you want."

   "Why don't you try this. You know how you watch a guy's body language? You told me about it, and I started noticing when you're doing it. Why don't you try that."

   "Well, because girls? Really aren't that much of a threat to watch out for."

   "Oh. I see. Well? How about instead of looking for a threat, you watch women for the opposite of a threat."

   "The hell is the opposite of a threat, no threat? I'm not sure I'm---"

   "You watch men for a threat, you watch women, for signs of flirting. Your dad used to whack you upside the head sometimes, and you didn't know why until he told you, huh?"

   "Well, yeah."

   "How did I ever guess."

   "Are you trying to piss me off?"

   "Not really. No. I'm trying to tell you, how to handle this. If it happens."

   "Go on."

   "All right. If you stare at a woman, she's either going to get freaked out, if she doesn't like you. And if she does like you? She's gonna think you're hitting on her. Even if you aren't. So you can't make it obvious you're watching her body language."

   "Yeah. You can't let a guy catch you staring at him, or some guys start shit like a fuck-wit over it."

   "Right. Now, what are you looking for."

   "Duh. You said, flirting."

   "So, what exactly are you looking for, hmm?"

   "Well. Touching me. Trying to kiss me. Holding my hand too long. Shit like that."

   "No."

   "You want me to let girls do that stuff? Now you're just fucking with me…"

   Merry bit her thumb in frustration, and mentally counted to ten. She got to five, and had her composure back.

   "No. That shit? Is when she's already been flirting with you for a while, and you didn't get it? And she likes you, and thinks you're playing hard to get. To get her to make the first move."

   He just listened.

   "See, you're supposed to pick up on it, long before it gets to that point. You shut it down early. Now, you know giggle hair flip, giggle hair flip, right?"

   "I'm not retarded."

   "Okay. You ever see a girl act like a giggly dipshit?"

   "Aw, I hate that shit…"

   Panic actually made her laugh, imitating a girl in this mode.

   "Yeah, that's about it."

   "See, I don't even talk to girls that act like that. They're fucking retarded."

   "Well… that's what girls do when they have a crush, they can't help it."

   "Ugh."

   "Any undressing functions, too."

   "See, now I just know you're fucking with me. If a woman starts undressing, I---"

   "Not getting undressed. Starts showing undressing functions. Taking a necklace off. Taking earrings off. Taking a watch off. Taking something out of her hair. If she doesn't take her coat off like a normal person, and does it slow, or drops her coat off her shoulders and leaves it there. Maybe, I'm hot… then takes her sweatshirt off, and still has a T shirt on. Rolling pants legs up, rolling sleeves up. That's showing more, that's a little version of the same thing. Also? Pretty much anything involving her shoes. Playing with her shoes. Some women do the old… oh, my feet are killing me… then take their shoes off, and rest their feet on them. Their feet don't hurt, they're giving a hint. Taking a shoe off, playing with it, pretending to fix it, or clean it, re do the laces, anything. The old… I've got something in my shoe… that's an oldie you won't see much anymore, but I'm sure some still use it. Pretty much, anything involving her shoes."

   "The fuck is it, with women and their goddamn shoes? It's fucking retarded."

   "Hey, I'm a tomboy. I think shoes are okay, but in case you never noticed? I'm not really a shoe girl. Most of them? Are."

   "See, all this shit? I got so much other, better, more important stuff running through my brain. Day and night. I don't have time to worry about this stupid, retarded shit. That? Is why I developed, my own technique. I wait till they start touching me. Then? I know I'm good. They don't do that? They're not interested enough. And by the way, you forgot at least one."

   "What's that?"

   "You forgot, the stroke."

   "The… stroke?"

   "Yeah. Like a stroke victim? They just fucking stand there, with big eyes. Won't move, won't speak. It's like they're having a silent stroke or something."

   "Little smile, but wont talk or move or anything…"

   "Yeah. You know that one?"

   "Uh, that's pretty much the same thing as when they won't stop giggling like a halfwit, and wiggling their hands around, and kind of dancing from one foot to another. That's the… bad crush thing. They don't wanna do the retard dancing giggling act, so, they just kind of freeze and stare, and it's kind of an embarrassed smile. But it means the same exact thing as the retard dance."

   "All right, I have to waste my time, and my brain power. Watching all women, for this shit coming out of them. Instead of any important shit I got running through my brain. But I can't let them see and notice I'm watching them, or else it'll scare them, or make them touch me, depending on whether they like me or not. Honestly now, how the fuck do you women go through life like this, hmm?"

   "Well. We don't all do this shit. You see me doing all this shit? You know I like you. You know I get a squirt in my panties around you sometimes. What do you see me do?"

   "Ah… you just tend to smile a little too much. You laugh a little too much, but, it's not the fucking retard act."

   "Yeah, well. I grew up playing football and baseball with the boys, so… I'm a tomboy, and… I guess I wasn't going to pick that shit up from the boys, so…"

   "And everyone wonders, why I like tomboys so much. There you go. Tomboys? Don't act like fucking retards."

   "Hmm. Thank you. Now then… what are we going to do about this situation, eh? We were planning on using this appointment, as an excuse for me to catch you, in fun. I'm not sure you need to be introduced to being alone, with Holly for the first time, just in case I take one look at her and don't like how I read the situation."

   Panic couldn't help being a wise ass.

   "Well, that settles that then. Since you don't know jack shit about relationships, and I just happen to know absolutely everything about that? I'll decide what we should do."

   "Hmm. I can't decide. Are you making fun of me?"

   "No. I'm pretending the exact opposite, to try to be funny. Obviously, it wasn't as funny as I thought."

   "Do you want my suggestion?"

   "No. Keep the best course of action a complete secret. That should work out well. Let's do that."

   "Okay. Do you want to just scrap the whole plan? Of you getting into fun trouble, on account of we're doing this, like this."

   "See, I liked the original idea. We… what's that called, role playing? You come in halfway through the appointment. After the appointment is over, and she's gone, I'm in trouble. She's ruining my hot date night."

   "It wasn't just something to do, you were actually looking forward to it. Really, or… are you just trying to be sweet."

   "How do you say it? I must get the… um… male equivalent of… a little squirt in my panties?"

   Merry laughed.

   "That's funny."

   "So… my Psych Master, can't salvage the hot date night out of this."

   "I'm taking ideas."

   "Hmm. Wanna do little kid stuff, like, you hide in the closet, and I get the person to talk shit on you?"

   Merry chuckled.

   "We could… bet on the outcome. If I'm using Marnie as insider information, and you think it's completely innocent… winner gets what, loser gets what."

   "That has possibilities. It eliminates me and you arguing pointlessly over which crystal ball is tuned in properly. It's still a hot date night. You no doubt have a plan for what the bet is."

   "I do. How… about…"

   She slowly adjusted herself a couple times, and her human ivy position clung her lips to his ear. She whispered in her deep rusty voice, giving a slow, seedy, lurid description of something.

   Panic regarded her when she was done, grinning at him.

   "Interesting. And, this is a fun bet, right? The degree of fun or not fun, takes no bearing from the outcome of the bet."

   "Of course. We wanted our fun night. She's potentially ruining that. We turn it into a fun bet."

   "Hmm. Like I said, interesting. Question, though."

   "Yes?"

   "What constitutes a win, what constitutes a loss?"

   "Now you're talking. She has to make a move. I see where you're coming from here, it's not like one giggle and one smile, and I win."

   "And… you trust me. To report it back fair."

   "I do."

   "Hmm. You trust me with the bet? I could just lie. Or worse yet, maybe I don't see something, and I claim a win. You might only be 1-0 at this, but… you're still the expert."

   "Actually… I was thinking, that a week from now? The winner and loser switch on the bet anyways. In reality? The friendly bet, is simply to see who goes first."

   "Hmm. Very interesting. Okay… I have an idea."

   "What's that, honey."

   "Why don't we make popcorn, and watch a movie, and have fun watching the big game on TV. That way, we can both see what the other sees."

   "A movie? What---"

   "Remember the camera under my shirt, when I recorded the IA guys approaching me for lunch? I didn't know what they wanted, and I couldn't predict their motivations. I still have that shirt and camera, hun."

   Merry laughed.

   "Oh, that does sound like fun. And it works out good."

   "How's that?"

   "This started out, you wanted to be in fun trouble to begin with. Now? You will. Even if you win, there's always next weekend. Which you wanted anyways. So, we have a deal?"

   "We do. Is this little fun bet, going to turn into a girl magazine article?"

   "I hadn't thought about that. I think it could. It has a novelty to it, the article, when you think about it. The movie and the bet."

   "Not sure I want the publicity, dear."

   "Hmm. No publicity. Just another article, about one of my… therapist cases. When therapists write generically, about a past case? That's when you see a person's name redacted to a single letter."

   "Redacted. Sounds like… a blacked out name. I'm familiar with that."

   "What's your letter going to be, hmm? We can't use P for Panic, that would be too obvious, dear. You need a… code letter to go by."

   "Hmm. How about S."

   "Oh, for y---"

   "No. S for Sigma. Or… TS, for Team Sigma. Only we'll know what it really means."

   "All right. This is going to be… fun."

   "I think so. I might have to throw the bet, just to get to the fun part."

   "Don't do that, you'll take all the fun out of it. Now that's settled… can we please get some sleep? Hmm?"

   "Sure. Just one more thing though…"

   "What now…"

   "I might need backup. If I'm going undercover, I need a partner. If I text you the signal, you have to come in and save me."

   Merry laughed into his neck.

   "Fine. Text me 911, and I'll come running. To save my little damsel in distress, and his precious virtue."

   "And… we should probably make it a ground rule, that if this goes sour on me, and I text for help? You can yell at the lady, but…"

   "Oh. No closing both her eyes, huh? I guess so. Technically, she's not from town, she doesn't know that rule. So, she'd only be on the hook for one eye. But, condition accepted. Now, can we go to sleep?"

   He relaxed, and Merry shifted around, until she was in her familiar position.