First to Find

by Mark Gessner

Chapter 39

  March 6.

  "MAN, SOMETIMES THESE MOVIES really hack me off, can't they count?" asked Kurt, leaning back into the couch after taking a sip of his soda. Nipper lay on his side at the base of the couch, twitching as he chased dream squirrels.

  "What do you mean?" asked Judi.

  "That bad guy fired off way more than six shots," Kurt explained, pointing the remote control at the gunman on the TV screen.

  "Huh? I counted eleven," said Judi.

  "Yeah, that's what I mean, anyone knows guns only hold six shots, yet they keep showing guns that just shoot and shoot unbelievable amounts of ammunition without reloading, it's like a video game," said Kurt.

  "That looked like a Glock nine millimeter. Those can hold up to fifteen rounds," said Judi.

  Kurt stared at her for a second in disbelief. "Get outta here, they do not.” Then after a pause, “how do you know that?"

  "I know lots of stuff. Someday you might find out just how much, mister," she said, with a nudge.

  Kurt nudged her back and said he’d like to find out someday, sooner rather than later. Judi changed the subject, asking Kurt if he’d like a snack. They walked out to the kitchen, where Judi pulled out a bag of carrots and a tub of hummus. She began to fix a snack. Nipper woke up and followed them into the kitchen, where he tentatively licked the back of Kurt’s knees.

  "You know, something bugs me about this dog murder thing," Kurt said, crossing his arms and leaning up against the counter.

  "Yeah what's that?" she asked, arranging the baby carrot pieces on a small plate.

  "Well, some of the murders have a dead dog and a bottle of urine, and some have just a dead dog..." he said.

  "Yeah?" she said, scooping the hummus out into a small bowl.

  "...and some have just a bottle of urine," he added.

  "And some don't have a body," she teased.

  "Yeah, there's that little problem too," he added, "and then one of the Krager twins finds a dead cat stuffed in a urine-filled cache out in Lakeway."

  "Well, some of those might not even have anything to do with each other, like the dead cat. Why all of a sudden is it a cat instead of a dog?"

  "Yeah, I thought about that. But I don't think it's all a coincidence. Maybe some of the bottles of urine are ending up in places where cachers don't find them. Like the country club murder. The bottle could have been found at the scene by the cops but maybe they didn't release that info to the media," he said.

  "It's a mystery," she said, carrying the plate and bowl out to the living room.

  They parked back on the sofa, where the commercial was just wrapping up. Kurt prided himself on being able to hit mute exactly as the commercial ended and the show resumed. He took it as a good sign that Judi had surrendered the remote control so early in their relationship. Judi couldn't tell how he knew when the commercials were over. Must be a guy thing. The show continued, with a rural car chase, a foot pursuit with no less than twenty uniformed cops, and another standoff in an abandoned farmhouse. Fifteen or twenty minutes of this passed, including several commercial breaks. On the last break, Kurt hit mute again, just as the show faded and the first commercial came up.

  "How do you do that?" asked Judi, crunching on a hummus-covered carrot stick.

  "Do what?" said Kurt, reaching for a veggie snack.

  "How do you know exactly when the show is going to end to hit mute?" she asked, holding his remote control hand up and pointing to the mute button. Kurt admitted he didn’t know; he just got lucky sometimes.

  They sat in silence as the TV drew them in. Despite the mute, the TV worked its strange mental suction. They both stared at the four minutes of commercials filling the gap between stretches of movie, mindlessly munching on carrots and hummus. Finally Kurt broke the silence.

  "So were you making up that stuff about the gun?" he asked.

  "No. Hold on a sec." Judi climbed up out of the comfy couch, set a half-bitten carrot stick on the coffee table, wiped her mouth on a napkin, and walked into her bedroom. She returned carrying a palm-sized Kahr PM9 nine-millimeter semiautomatic pistol, muzzle down.

  "Holy shit! Is that real? Where did you get that?" Kurt asked, sitting up straight, leaning away from Judi and the gun.

  "Of course it's real," she said.

  "Is it loaded? Can it go off?" he asked.

  "Not if handled properly," she said, "and yes, it's always loaded. Doesn't work if it isn't."

  Judi dropped the magazine, worked the slide, ejected the round from the chamber, checked it three times both visually and by putting her pinky finger in the chamber, then drilled Kurt on the basic three gun safety rules until he could remember them all in any order.

  "Finger off the trigger until ready to fire, Never point the gun at anything you don't intend to destroy, and what's the third?" she asked.

  "Treat all guns as if they're always loaded," he recited.

  "Good. Keep those in mind, and we won't have any accidents. There will be a quiz later," she said.

  She handed the pistol to Kurt, who operated the slide, practiced inserting an empty magazine a few times, then drew a bead on Judi's mantel clock and dry fired it, manually cycling the slide between each 'click.'

  "Hey this is pretty wild," he laughed, turning it over in his hands, "I didn't know you were into guns."

  "Well, actually I'm not into guns. It's not like a hobby for me or anything. But I decided a couple years ago after my roommate got raped, that I would never be a victim."

  "No kidding?" he asked.

  "Yeah, she was one of these women who just never thought it could happen to her," said Judi.

  "Is she still alive?" he asked.

  "Yeah, she lives out in L.A. She got the hell out of here after the attack, never came back. Can't blame her... She was at home alone, I was off attending the Java Expo in Vegas..." said Judi.

  "...somebody break in?" asked Kurt.

  "No, not really. She let the guy in," she said.

  "No way! Did she know him?" he asked.

  "No, not at all, but think about it, Kurt, when an injured stranger bangs on your door, what do you do?"

  "Hmmm... Good point," he said.

  "This guy starts banging on the door. It's around two A.M. So my roomie bolts up out of bed. As soon as the door's open, this guy's miraculously recovered from his injuries and he's immediately on her. He's about six-one, two-forty. Maybe mid thirties or so, but he just looks older somehow," said Judi.

  "Wow, I can't believe it. When did this happen?" asked Kurt.

  "Let's see... couple years ago at least," she said. "Guy got off on an insanity plea, only got like fifteen years in a state hospital. Damn lawyers. So anyway, she's just laying there, finally too beaten down to resist anymore, when a neighbor blows the door down with his shotgun."

  "Whoa, no shit?" said Kurt.

  "Well he didn't really blow it down, he first kicked it a couple times and it wouldn't open," Judi said. "So he aims his shotgun at the knob. The knob was blown clean out of the door. I found it behind the couch. So the door flies open--"

  "--Wait, where did this guy come from?"

  "Well, it's like two-thirty now and the neighbor, this eighty year old man--an insomniac--hears the pounding, the door slam, then the muffled screams. He actually calls the cops right away, but they put him on hold."

  "What?"

  "Yeah, the poor old geezer wasn't sure it was a real emergency or if it might just be a domestic squabble, so he calls 311 instead of 911."

  "311?"

  "Yeah, the non-emergency number," she explained.

  "I didn't even know there was such a thing," he said.

  "Most people don't. You have a cat up a tree, a neighbor's party gets too loud after midnight, your car breaks down; you call 311. Takes the non-emergency load off 911," she said.

  "Huh! Whaddaya know. --Good idea," he said.

  "In theory, yeah, but the reality is, they don't advertise it so I'm not sure it actually does any goo
d. Then even if you do actually call it, the assholes that answer the phone are all like all pissed off that you called because you're bothering them or something, and so they try to give you the run-around like it isn't their problem," she said.

  "Fuckin bureaucrats," said Kurt.

  "Yep, the world is run by clerks," she said.

  "So what happened with your roomie?" he asked.

  "Well first the guy he spends about ten minutes messing around with 311, getting the run-around, they tell him to call the sheriff, it's out of our jurisdiction, are you sure you really heard something, could it be a cat, that kind of thing. Then he finally gets fed up with that shit and just hangs up," said Judi. "Turns out the guy's a bird hunter, or was. He grabs his shotgun and a handful of shells, neither of which have been outside his closet since 1968, and shuffles over to Dee-Dee's place as fast as he can, which ain't too fast," she said.

  "Okay, so he blows the door open, then what?" Kurt asked.

  "The neighbors across the street heard the shotgun blast and called 911. The cops show up in about ten minutes, guns drawn on the old man! They grab the shotgun, throw the old geezer face down on the ground, dislocating his shoulder and breaking his nose. They cuff him, then they take both the old man and the rapist into custody. Ambulance shows up about two minutes later and they take Dee-Dee off to the hospital. Doctor said later she would have been dead in another half hour. It was that close," she said.

  The TV continued flickering during the story. The action movie had ended and they were a few minutes into a Hitchcock mystery film. Alfred was doing his cameo appearance, posing as a rich art lover, getting out of an expensive British touring car and viewing some roadside art for sale. The sound was still on mute. Kurt had become so absorbed in Judi's story that he had missed his cue to put the sound back on.

  "So anyway, I haven't talked about this in a long time. It gets me worked up. I get so pissed, you know?" said Judi.

  "I can imagine. You okay?" he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.

  "Yeah, I'm okay, it's just I keep thinking if I had been there, what could I have done?" she said, turning her back to him, inviting a massage.

  "You weren't packin' heat then?" he asked, rubbing her shoulders.

  "No, I was scared of guns. I trusted the cops to rescue me," she said, rotating her head downward into the massage.

  "You're tense. So what happened to the guy?" asked Kurt, intensifying the massage.

  "Oh yeah, wow that feels great. Of course they eventually figured out the old man was the hero, and they apologized and sent him to the hospital. The rapist, that asshole could be out in another eight years on good behavior," she said, "Um, that feels good. Can you dig in with your thumbs more? ...Oh yeah."

  They sit in silence awhile, Kurt working her shoulders, both staring at the muted flickering TV.

  Chapter 40

  "THEY TRASHED 'STUMPIN AT the Switchback,' 'Run to the Lights,' and 'Doomed dot Com,'" said Jason, passing the printout around:

  www.cache-finders.com Geocache Listing

  Cache Visitor Comments:

  (25 comments total)

  [click to see previous comments]

  [25] February 27 by CallMeAhab [5 caches found]

  we b the pirates that pissed in ur gay box we tried 2 shit in it but neither of us had 2 go so we pissed insted. HA! next time we will leve a dead cat for u pussys. HA HAH HA! get it? dead cat - pussys! HA! u fuckin quears!

  [email this user]

  Did you Find the Cache? Add your own comment! [click here]

  "Maari said that three others have turned up missing as well, and 'Low Water Stash' was found packed full of dog crap. And we think the little juvenile delinquents are responsible for shoving that dead cat in 'It Sneaks Up on You' and peeing in 'It's been on FIRE!' which was a rockin' cache and still pretty new."

  "Fucking sociopaths," said Kurt, passing the printout back. "What are we planning to do about it?"

  "We thought we'd try to spoof them. We think it's some kids, probably teenagers. There's a pattern. They're all centered on 'It's been on FIRE!' and spread outward from there. So it's like they started with that cache and just used their GPS to find the nearest ones. They're lazy. We called the cops, but they can't help us because plundering geocaches isn't a crime. In fact, they wanted to know more about geocaching because they said it sounded like littering or misdemeanor abandonment of property, which is a crime. We've got some serious educating to do with the local police," said Jason.

  "So what can I do to help?" asked Kurt.

  "Here's a map of their pattern so far," said Jason, spreading out a printout from the cache-finders website on the table. "We think based on the caches they've plundered so far, all ammo boxes, all less than a medium level of difficulty, no multiple-stage caches, no puzzles, that they'll hit one of these five caches next." He circled five caches in orange highlighter. The orange highlighter ink mixed with the ink on the inkjet printout and smudged to a brownish-black. "We're going to try to spoof them. What we want to do is move the containers on the next few likely target caches a couple hundred feet in any convenient direction. Re-hide the container and mark the new coordinates, then email the new coords to the cache owners. We're going to have a bunch of cache owners in Austin edit their cache pages with a note saying that the caches have been moved, that the posted coordinates are bogus, and for finders to email the cache owners to receive the correct coordinates. We won't be moving all the caches in Austin, but the pirates may call our bluff and try these next few, and when they don't find them we're hoping they'll give up and go find some other trouble to get into.

  "That sounds pretty clever. Did you think that up yourself?" asked Kurt.

  "It was actually Bonnie's idea. She's pretty sharp," said Jason.

  "Where do I come in?" asked Kurt.

  We'll need some people who can get out there to move these cache boxes and also we want to set out a webcam on this one near the office buildings here. Can your Monday morning unemployed cacher group help out? You guys aren't doing anything all day," said Jason.

  "Funny, asshole," said Kurt.

  "Just kidding. I know you're busy looking for another gig. But if you can help us catch these little mortar-forkers, it would be great. They're ruining the game," he said.

  "What do we do with them once we catch them?" asked Kurt. "Like the cops said, it's not against the law to plunder caches."

  "That's entirely up to you. If they're little kids, you could try to scare them. Sometimes little kids will scare just if an adult walks in and catches them doing something they know is wrong. If they're bigger kids, high schoolers or whatever, get a picture of them or write down their license tag, maybe we can tell their parents what they've been doing. Just be careful," said Jason. "Oh, and another thing, don't breathe a word of this on the internet. No postings, no group emails. Keep it strictly via phone. We don't want any word of our spoofing to get out or it won't work. So far it's only you, me, Bonnie, Maari, and the cache owners who know about it, and they've all been sworn to secrecy."

  Kurt promised to keep it quiet as he folded the map into his back pocket.

  He spent the next day working with some of the other unemployed cachers to set up the wireless webcam on one of the likely targets that happened to be close enough to an office building to yield useful images if someone went after it. Fortunately Austin had park preserves everywhere, including adjacent to some prime office space. Everybody knew somebody, especially in a small city like Austin, and it only took a little networking to find someone with a friend in the building, and then from there to get a colleague to set the webcam on the window ledge in their office, and aim it out at the park. The resolution wouldn't be great, but they might be able to see who was going in to pirate the cache.

  One of the caches was in St. Edward's Park, and the other two were in Bull Creek District Park. He planned to start with the Bull Creek caches. As luck would have it, he hadn't yet found either cache. He decided to ask Judi
if she wanted to go along to help out. He suspected she would jump at the opportunity to go out with him again.

  Chapter 41

  "IT'S A CACHE CALLED 'Swept Downstream,' out on Bull Creek," Kurt said, reading the information off his computer screen. "It looks fairly challenging. When can you get free?"

  "I'm going to be heading out of here in about two hours to scream at some of my local suppliers. By the time I finish with that, I'm calling it a day," Judi said, "How about four?"