***
Minutes after leaving the motel parking lot, tires screeching and the backseat of the Hummer filled with the contents of the vending machine; Jake was beginning to calm down. He was confused, with a million thoughts and questions buzzing in his mind. For how long had they been followed? Who followed them? Was the military not aware of this project? Was anything he had been told even true? Too afraid of what he might hear if he asked, Jake resolved to keep his mouth shut. Glancing through the rear-view mirror, he saw James on the phone – barking at someone, obviously. Who he was barking at, however, was a completely different issue.
Jo was whistling. She had chosen the perfect time to pretend that nothing had happened. He was driving, Hootch seated comfortably between them and she was whistling. He quelled the notion to slap her, understanding that she was still buzzing from all the action at the motel. She reached out and flipped a switch next to the radio, and like something out of a sci-fi movie, the radio panel retracted and flipped inwards, revealing a complex two-way radio transceiver. Impressed at himself for knowing what it was, he remained silent, waiting to find out what she would attempt to do.
“Yessss,” she hissed between whistles. “You see, Jakie-poo, the folks at the Jessup base must’ve picked up on the movement of something that ‘appears’ to be a ‘bomb’. Hah. Dumb fuckers. You’d think that they would stop to ask before shooting. Not in America. Shoot first, talk second. That explains everything that’s wrong with this country. Idiots,” she explained frankly.
“Uh... but how would they notice the ‘movement’ of something that ‘appears’ to be a ‘bomb’?” Jake asked, knowing that whatever she said he probably would not be able to understand anyway.
“Ah, easy-peasy-mc-squeeze-me! Each military base in America is equipped with what I like to call... drum roll... The Crapper! Hah! It’s a fancy satellite system that tracks all moving vehicles. Only you can’t get HBO off it – it has infrared and thermal scanners. Fancy, huh? So, imagine what some fat dude sitting at the monitors must have seen! A Hummer with two humans and a dog followed by a U-haul with two humans and a single, large ‘suspicious’ object being transported travelling at a constant speed without stops,” she explained enthusiastically. “They probably picked us up when we were closing in on the inter-state.”
Not one to let her silly statements slide, “Oh, I see. That wasn’t too hard for me to understand. But why do you call it...drum roll... The Crapper?” he asked, mimicking her ridiculous monkey-drumming action.
“You’re funny, Jakie-poo. It’s actually called the PITS. Pie-in-the-sky ring a bell? NORAD sent that fucker up in the 60s. I call it The Crapper because of its primitive two-dimensional scanning system. The person looking at the sat-images only sees a plan-view and has to guess. It’s like looking at a picture while you’re on the crapper. Get it? I think my name for it is pretty apt, actually. Heh,” Jo quipped.
Still unable to fathom what actually goes on in her enigmatic mind, Jake gave up and concentrated on driving. Jo began fiddling with the transceiver and made jokes about how she wished she were a truck driver so she ‘toot’ the horn while swapping jokes with other ‘mutha-truckers’. Funnily, all her flippant statements and jokes made him feel better. He was close to forgetting that he nearly died just minutes before.
Suddenly a blast of static, white noise broke the silence in the truck. He heard a familiar voice saying, “Encrypt the fucking signal, devil woman.”
“Gotcha, boss,” Jo said. “By the way, tell Fallon he shoots like a fucking sissy. Sun Tzu my ass,” Jo retorted, laughing.
Jake suppressed his laugh when he heard Fallon mumble something about introducing Sun Tzu’s sword to her ass. Jo continued to fiddle with the tuner after she jacked her lap top into the transceiver. Who would have thought top-secret government transceivers were IPod friendly, what with a handy USB port?
After she was satisfied with all the fiddling she had done, she turned to Jake, “Ch-ch-ch-check it out! We can listen in on Jessup’s frequency and those fuckers won’t know a damn thing! I’m bouncing all our signals off an Indonesian satellite. Heh. I do me proud. Nyuk nyuk!”
“Uh, okay then, Jo. So when do we start listening in? Are they following us? Do I need to speed up or slow down? Are we going to change course? Are you sure you work for the government?” he asked, all in the same breathe.
“Now I see why you’re so tense. You think you may be colluding with enemies of the state? Rubbish! We have explained everything to you already! Dynaco is owned by America. Jessup County was just following protocol, and the three dead soldiers will be given the honour they deserve for protecting their country - don't you worry about that. James probably has called in and the dogs will leave us alone. As for your other questions, James will be listening in, stick to the current speed and no change of course. Got it?” she asked, appearing slightly irritated.
“Hey, no need to get mad. I was just asking, Jo. I have the right to know, remember?” Jake said, attempting at a soothing voice. Her eyebrow rose at the sound of his voice.
Knowing he should not have done that, he felt a hand snake its way up his thigh. She was smiling - practically beaming. He also knew he would be a goner if said hand got any higher. Taking one hand off the wheel, he seized her distracting paw and placed it firmly on the dog.
“One, I don’t think that’s appropriate, Jo. Two, I’m not in the mood for your antics right now,” Jake said, going for a stern, no-nonsense look.
“Why Jakie, trying to protect your chastity? Don’t you worry, your virginity is safe with me,” she winked.
“Oi, you idiots, stop trying to make-out while driving, will ya? It’s grossing us out!” James said, sounding more relaxed now that the crisis had been averted.
“No, no, please. Continue. Nothing like good ol’ audio-sex. I’m lovin’ what I’m hearin’. The troops will be happy, and by troops I mean my balls. Fuckers,” Fallon said, sounding a little put out.
Jake knew his face was red, awash with embarrassment. Jo had to have known that Fallon and James could hear everything that was going on in the truck. She had goaded him into saying something that would give them away. Conniving little bitch.
Within only a couple of hours to daylight and less than half a day to the Nevada borders, Jake settled into his seat and set the truck on cruise. Tomorrow was going to be just as trying and frightening as the motel incident. He just wanted to go home and fall into bed – it would be nice if Jo were in that bed, too.
***
I, Reading Raynes, do solemnly swear to write some shit that's worth your time. Much love.
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