Laying Low #2
“Someday,” Anthony said, “we are going to have to have a talk about how much I care about your little brother and how much I do not care about catering to his every need. You will be surprised in equal amounts. Now move before she decides to love me into amputating my arm at the pit.”
“Shh!” Reg urged, wondering what sort of life-altering conversation he had in store for him now. Then it was all about listening.
They couldn’t hear much—the tunnel was soundproofed by earth and by layers of house and foundation—but as they neared the trap door into the den, Reg thought raised voices of the kind that howled “Stop or I’ll shoot!” figured large.
“Shit,” he murmured, and Anthony said, “Fuckers,” which meant they were both on the same page.
Quietly—oh-so quietly—Reg hit the latch under the trap door, grimacing as he knocked dust down on them, because a hole in the ground was still a hole in the ground.
The door lifted open, and Reg peered around the room.
He’d put the trap door in the corner on purpose so somebody coming into the room couldn’t be blindsided, and when he saw that the door to the den was still closed, he squirreled out and then turned to help Anthony, noting that Muffin was wrapped so tightly around his upper arm that his forearm was turning red.
“Oh geez,” Reg murmured, after a few fruitless moments of trying to get the snake to disengage. “We’re going to have to put her in her enclosure with a defrosted rat pop, or maybe put you both in the shower so she’ll relax in the steam.”
“I refuse to steam shower with a snake, Reg,” Anthony said grimly. “Just boot up the computer and do what you’ve got planned, and Muffin and I will have a little talk about codependency, okay?”
Reg stroked the snake’s long neck under her head. “Be nice to him, Muffin. He’s part of the family now.”
The snake flickered her tongue and thought snake thoughts, and Reg decided Anthony was probably right.
He sat down in front of his computer and started pulling up the dispatch for the local border patrol units, while at the same time hissing to Anthony, “Hey, look up the address for the Central Valley Rattlesnake Sanctuary, okay?”
Anthony must have really loved him, because he didn’t even ask why.
The border patrol encryption was a breeze to cut through, and the rest of it was easy. A few texts to the dispatcher, a false tip, and….
“Anthony?” Reg said, as his fingers flew on the keyboard and he switched screens.
“Yeah?”
“You know if you buy that property, you’re going to have to have somebody clear out all the snakes, right? Because we’re pretty sure they weren’t funded to relocate the animals—only the offices.”
“So they just let them go?” Anthony squawked.
“Well, yeah. I mean, they are indigenous to the area. They’re not even an invasive species.”
“I’ll start looking for a service before I close escrow,” Anthony vowed. Then he paused. “So, uhm, is that where you’re sending—”
Outside the room, a radio squawked, and a bunch of angry voices started giving directions. Somebody said, “Wait, where are we driving out to?” and somebody else—angry too—said, “What’s it to you? That’s where dispatch is sending us! Follow the GPS and go!”
And then there was a clatter of feet, and they were gone.
“Should we go out there?” Anthony said.
“No,” Reg murmured. “Let me… okay… let me… and… okay. There we go. Wait. One more address.”
“What are you doing?” Anthony asked, sounding legitimately curious.
“Well, from what we just heard, nobody’s local.
None of the people in charge. Maybe not even the dispatch center,” Reg said thoughtfully.
“So, if I sent somebody out to, say, Snakeshit Acres or, you know, the sewage treatment plant or the illegal landfill or some of the manure piles of the local cattle farms, they have to rely on GPS to get there and—”
Anthony made a quiet sound of supreme amusement. “So how are you—”
“Whenever our address pops up,” Reg said darkly. “And whenever the school’s address pops up in their computer, the algorithm will switch it out, randomly, for someplace nobody wants to be.”
“How long do you think it will be,” Anthony asked, “before somebody catches on?”
“It depends on how long they overstaff their agency with people who are undertrained and then send out nonlocals to terrorize local populations,” Reg said grimly.
“At this rate, given that Bratva just impersonated them at a local high school and nobody is aware of it but Canada, I’m thinking those boys are going to be smelling like shit for a long time. ”
“God, I love you,” Anthony said. “I mean—brilliant. Nonviolent, brainy resistance. If it wasn’t for the snake, I’d make out with you right here.”
Reg sent him a grin and kept typing, wanting to cover his tracks so even if somebody figured out what he’d done, they wouldn’t know he’d done it.
He’d discovered he was really good at protecting the people he loved.
A few minutes later, he put the final keystroke on his masterpiece and then shut down all his equipment but the public router the rest of his family used, deciding it was best his ISP laid low for a month or so.
He turned to find Anthony holding Muffin in his other hand, her body drooping from his arm as he stroked her gently behind the head.
“It’s her sweet spot,” he said. “But I still think she’d rather be in her enclosure.”
“Are you ready for my family yet?” Reg asked, “or do you want to go put her away while I, uhm….”
“Yeah,” Anthony said, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “I think you’re more than a match for your family, Reg. Go be part of them. They’ll be so proud to know the real you.”