Page 104 of Nearly Roadkill
In other words, no one knows anything, but everyone is talking. Not that anyone is talking clearly, nor is anyone coming forward, and no one has got a shred of evidence. Even60 Minuteshas resorted to using passive terms such as “unnamed sources” and “it has been reported that.”
There’s a fractured photo of Toobe the gossip TV show uses every night: “Have You Seen This Child?”
Back in the office of the intrepid Wally Budge. He types:
To:Henderson, Enforcement
From:FBCS Investigations
Subj:URGENT: SEARCH PARAMETER MODIFICATION
Henderson: I’ve got reason to believe that juvenile suspect Toobe may be in the company of…
… two adults, or slightly older juveniles. They may be any race, any physical presentation. These adults or older juveniles are to be detained for questioning along with the kid.
No reason to believe there is any porn or mind control going on (where did you *get* that?), so the kid may need some talking to, but he surely doesn’t need a shrink. I advise you to call off the men in the white coats.
Repeat: You are looking for a group of three or one lone white juvenile male. I’ll be there in less than two hours. Hold forquestioning any, repeat *any* suspicious-looking threesome that includes the suspected perp until my arrival on site.
Budge
He leans back in his seat and ponders the real problem. It isn’t catching the buggers. It’s what to charge them with. Failing to Register was made illegal by presidential decree, so it’s a flimsy and untested law. If that’s the only charge they’ve got, then any penny-ante public defender can merrily release them back to their hidey-hole homes.
END JABBA NARRATIVE ENTRY
09NO TRACTION
PERSONAL LOG, JABBATHEHUT
I have procured a number of hysterical accounts of The Great Coney Island Rescue. This is the one I concluded as the most accurate—but at this point, who knows.
Scene: Coney Island
A tall man in a checkered sport coat, sporting a mustache and wearing unbearably cheap shoes stands with a young girl. She looks as pouty as most young girls in the presence of their parents. Soon they are joined by a plain, worn-looking woman.
END JABBA PERSONAL LOG
WINC JOURNAL ENTRY
I gotta say, Toobe looked adorable. I’ve only seen him in skateboard gear. But there he was, tottering on heels…
So sweet; then he asked me, “How did you know it was me?”
“Oh, I just knew,” I said, smiling. I didn’t want him to worry or be embarrassed so I made sure to add, “You look great. And you look like the kid I’ve loved forever. Most importantly, the cops won’t know it’s you at all.”
Then I saw Scratch. Clearly a female, but looked odd somehow. Awkward, the gait not quite right, the clothes seeming to fit funny. I could see hir tottering on hir shoes, even though they were one-inch heels at most, and quite sensible. Charming.
I wanted us all to hug, but as usual Scratch was aware of what was happening around us, while I was only aware of the rush of emotion in knowing we were safe—at least for the moment—the three of us. In the riptide of that emotion, I realized crazily, “This is my family,” and wanted to join hands with the two of them and swing round and round right there on the boardwalk. I laughed out loud, and Scratch was laughing too.
“Look at us,” ze said. “The people I care about most in the world are right here, in real time! I didn’t expect we’d look like this!”
That’s exactly what I was thinking. It was like a simulpost, when we both would type the same thing online? Only there was no delay, and I was standing there, completely willing to stay like that forever. My Scratch!
Toobe was grinning, as if he believed that as long as we were literally surrounding him, he was safe. Scratch’s eyes kept darting around, and sure enough, it did look like a number of dark-suited men were prowling, although none of them had looked our way, yet.
“We gotta go,” Scratch said, jolting me out of the reverie.
“We’re just a family at Coney Island, and now we’re going to the car, okay?” ze added.
