For the Love - 20. Visitations

My eyes opened wide at the sight of the two shotguns, but I suspected the reason, and Mr. Williams soon confirmed it;"With the way things are going, I want you to each take one of these and keep it in your rooms. I wanted to do this sooner but with Eric here it would have been too dangerous."

We were each handed a 12-gauge and a box of shells with a final piece of advice, "If the Piedmont cops or the Fundies try coming in here, keep your heads, but do what you need to do."

After the shotguns were loaded and placed in our rooms, we headed back towards the living room, only to be greeted by a horrible wail.

"Mom's home," Steve winced.

Mrs. Williams stood speechless, glancing askance at the puddle of congealing blood on the floor while Mr. Williams filled her in on the evening's events. Steve and I retrieved a mop and bucket from the closet, intending to begin the cleanup, but Mr. Williams put a halt to that with one quiet word, 'evidence'.

It took a while for Mr. Williams to get Mrs. Williams calmed down, but she took it very well, overall ­- as well as can be expected, anyway.

Steve and I retreated to his room for the night, where, for the first time, I felt uncomfortable even getting undressed. Steve noticed my anxious glances at his air vent, which contained the now-deactivated camera, "Yeah, I know, it bugs me too."

I climbed into bed with him, pulling the covers over us, "It's just freaky. There were people watching us and what we did. You saw those pictures. Who knows how many people have seen them? Or will see them? We're going to have to face investigators who've seen them, at least. We were recognized in the damn mall! How the hell can we ever go out in public again, without wondering if people have seen them?" I didn't know what to feel: part of me felt anger and another, stronger part felt fear, but overall, I just felt violated.

I shuddered and Steve hugged me tight, stroking my hair, "Chris, I know this isn't easy for you. Hell, it bothers me and I'm not exactly shy. But think about it; we have nothing to be ashamed of. We didn't know that was being done to us; it's not as if we did it ourselves. Try to look on it as a compliment," Steve paused to think about his statement. "Okay, that just sounds weird, but you know what I mean."

I held Steve tight, glancing back at the air vent, "I know. Damn, I'm glad you started working on my self-confidence issues. If this had happened a month ago, I couldn't have handled it. I'll be okay, but it might take me a while before I feel okay to play around in your room - or mine. Maybe I'll be okay after the cameras are gone. I know they aren't active now, but the damn things spook me."

"They should be gone tomorrow, as soon as the investigators have been here. If you aren't comfortable, I understand. But we could always go over to Veronica's and ask to use her spare room."

My fingers were in motion before Steve finished his statement. I teased his ribs as he laughed, and I chuckled as I told him, "Oh, yeah, we can go tell Veronica 'hey we want to have sex, so please ignore the noise for a few.' Like she'd ever let us live that down."

"Well, okay, but there is always my car. We still haven't broken in the back seat..."

I nuzzled Steve's neck as I rolled on top of him, "That sounds like a plan, a good plan, and we'll do it, but I think I can cope here in your room now..."

Steve quickly responded to my obvious intentions, although I was still uncomfortable at first, Steve's gentle touch soon had me thinking of nothing but him, and things went very well indeed.

* * *

The knock on the door the next morning was unwelcome, as it had so often signified trouble. This proved to be the case again, as Steve, for once waiting for me to pull on my shorts­, let his father in.

"Guys, we have another problem; Thaddeus is wasting no time. There are flyers all over downtown proclaiming you two as 'Internet gay porn stars' who are using the names Chase and Shawn for your illegal and perverted business. He is also saying that the evil you two represent must end," Mr. Williams said as the muscles in his jaw clenched, "Keep your guard up, because to me it looks like he's trying to incite his followers to action."

"Isn't there anything we can do to stop him?" Steve asked.

"Maybe; he's on real thin ice, but I don't see anything prosecutable here yet. But, maybe a civil tort, a libel case for calling you two porn stars and implying that you two were running the thing. I'll look into that today at work. Take care guys."

Mr. Williams left and Steve and I finished getting ready for school. I was dreading class, by now the news of the website would have spread all over campus. I was mainly worried about the humiliation in my case, but I was concerned for Steve's safety; his car had been vandalized before.

My fears were soon confirmed, in a way, though not in the way I'd expected. I walked into my chemistry class not long before it began and took my usual seat in back. I noticed one or two of the girls pointing and chuckling, and felt myself turn red as a beet.

One of the girls, whose name I recalled as Susan, stood and held one of Thaddeus' flyers up for the class. Several other students waved theirs as I braced myself for the verbal onslaught I felt sure was coming.

Susan startled me by laughing, "Chris, I used the names in the flyer to bring up the site. Very impressive, in every department," she chuckled, "That's showing them damn Fundamentalist goose steppers and making some money too!"

Susan began to clap, and was soon joined by most of the class, which surprised the hell out of me as some of the students giving me praise were guys. I noticed a few angry looks as well, but from just a few guys.

I could feel my face burning, but I stood up, "Thanks, but Steve and I knew nothing about all that until we discovered the cameras yesterday. I can't say much because there's a criminal investigation underway, but we didn't know. We are trying to get the site taken offline, too."

Susan caught on fast, "You didn't know about it at all? Yet those Fundamentalists have flyers out this morning?I smell a rat."

"You and me both," I replied.

"I want to hear all about it when you can tell us, but I will say this, you two are cute and hot, and you looked really sexy in that blindfold," said Susan as she winked.

With my cheeks burning I sat down, and even received a playful punch in the arm from one of the school jocks, "Dude, I'm not into what you are, but you sure found a way to make the chicks dig you. And I hope you roast those Fundies."

Not exactly what I was looking for, and I was far from pleased that people seemed to assume that Steve and I were doing this intentionally, but I had to admit that this reaction was nowhere near as bad as I had been expecting.

The morning went well enough, and though news of the website and what it contained spread like wildfire, the reaction was far from the uniform condemnation that I'd been expecting.

Steve showed up as usual at the Pizza Place for lunch, and I earnestly hoped that his day was going as well as mine.

It wasn't. Steve evaded for a while, but finally leveled with me, "Yeah, word has spread, thanks to those damn flyers and the website still being up. Some of it was like what you had, but some people were pretty negative. Some of the guys from the track team were off talking to each other and kept glancing my way. The school office said they would keep a close eye on my car, and so far everything is ok, but I feel like something is up."

We sat out on the patio, eating, and Steve noticed that I kept glancing around. "Worried about being recognized again? Don't. Anyone who was a fan of that website is probably on our side. It's the damn Fundies I'm worried about."

"Yeah, me too."

We returned to our respective schools, and after my last class I parked behind the bookstore in my usual spot, and walked around to the front. I was about to enter the bookstore when I remembered something that I needed to do first.

I walked half a block past the bookstore, and entered a store I'd seen while walking with Steve. They sold many things, but one type of item was of particular interest to me.

I strolled up to the counter, and as the clerk greeted me I asked, "What do I need to do to get a pair of cell phones?"

It turned out to be far quicker and easier than I expected. A few forms to fill out, phones to choose, and a quick swipe of the credit card and we were done. Fifteen minutes later, I was exiting the store with two working cell phones in my pocket.

I arrived at the bookstore to find Betty busily working on the last of the receiving and re-stocking. I pitched in to help, and by the time Steve arrived we had the front of the store in order, and had started on the back.

Betty disappeared for a few moments, and returned carrying a familiar-looking rifle, "This here is an SKS, a Chinese copy of the Russian AK-47. I've got other stuff at home, but I'll be keeping this one in the store from now on. After what happened, I want us all to have a way to defend ourselves. Ain't nothin' a redneck gay-basher fears more than an armed queer."

Betty tossed the gun to Steve; he removed the banana clip and pulled the breech back, familiarizing himself with the gun while Betty watched. Steve handed it to me, and I checked out the pop-up sights, only to see Betty shake her head, "Don't worry about the sights, they are useless for close quarters. Just dry fire it and make sure you know how to load it."

I pointed it away from everyone, slid the bolt back to make sure it was empty, and dry-fired towards the ceiling. As I was handing it to Steve, I noticed that the wooden stock had a metal butt plate, with a round metal-covered hole in it.

Betty noticed my look, "That, guys, is the cleaning kit. You push in, and out comes a metal capsule with cleaning tools. Just make sure you put it back; those things are a bitch to buy separately. Anyway, this gun is just semi-auto so it's legal. But it will fire as fast as you can pull the trigger."

After Steve had finished with the gun, he re-loaded it and handed it to Betty, who slid back the bolt to chamber a round from the banana clip, "I'm keeping it back here. I know you two have been training, and if they don't teach you how to use an assault rifle, let me know and I will. This baby would have made a nice little equalizer when you guys were trapped in here, wouldn't it?" Betty said, with an evil grin as she slid the gun into the cupboard.

Steve and I both nodded agreement. I pulled out a cell phone and tossed it to Steve;"I just got us some other protection, too: cell phones."

Steve opened his, "Hey, it's tiny, way smaller than Dad's. Thanks!"

I flipped mine open, "Let's test 'em." I hit the power button. "Uhoh, it says 'no signal'."

"So does mine," said Steve.

Betty shook her head, "Try going outside. Reception is lousy around here and these thick brick walls don't help."

The three of us traipsed out to the sidewalk, where we found that the phones registered first one, and then two bars of signal. Steve and I phoned each other to make sure they worked, while Betty gave us a few pointers on how to use them. One piece of advice that she had was to carry them turned off; in areas with no signal, they waste a lot of power trying to connect to a tower and that runs down the battery in a few hours. She also reminded us that in most areas, we wouldn't be able to get a signal due to the sparse coverage in rural areas, especially hilly and mountainous regions such as ours.

"And if you really need to make a call, the best way to find a signal is to climb a hill or a mountain. I've been able to use a tower forty miles away by getting high enough to have a clear line of sight to it," she concluded, as we filed back inside.

Before we had time to say a word, Betty waved for us to follow as she headed for the back corner, where a flashlight stood beside our still-exposed hiding place. Betty shone the light into the hole before turning to us with a grin, "You boys might have discovered something very interesting here."

All I saw was the brick wall plugging the tunnel, and I exchanged a puzzled look with Steve.

Betty smiled, "My daddy was a contractor, so I've been around my share of construction jobsites. The first thing I noticed is that those bricks aren't that old. The second thing I noticed is the mortar; you see all the rough bits sticking out, where it was squeezed between the bricks?"

"Yeah, those did a number on my back," said Steve.

"Well, there is a reason for those. That's what happens when you build a brick wall, and can't get to one side of it."

I got it first, as my eyes opened wide, "It was bricked up, from the other side."

Betty nodded, "Yup, and not all that long ago, from the look of it. Hard to tell, but I'd say more than a few years ago, and less then twenty. Now watch this." Betty pointed at a gap at the top of the wall, and shoved a piece of paper through. "It's hollow behind there."

Steve leaned in for a closer look, "So, maybe the old tunnels still exist, and somebody bricked up this entrance. Any idea who, or why?"

"No idea, but I'd like to find out. Bring a sledgehammer, and some heavy steel bits to work one of these days and we'll have a look-see."

We soon returned to work cleaning up the mess in the back room, but we all cast frequent glances at the mysterious brick wall.

The driveway was empty when we arrived home. After confirming his parents were gone, Steve and I exchanged a knowing glance and seized the opportunity.

We retrieved the mop and broom from the hall closet, and began cleaning up the blood on the living room floor. The blood had dried, so we ended up chipping most of it off with putty knives before scrubbing off the remainder with soap and water. It was hard work, and took us quite a while, but by the time we were finished only the bullet hole lingered as a reminder.

Steve returned from the garage with a small jar of wood putty in his hand, and we smoothed it into place with a butter knife to fill the hole. It didn't look too bad, hardly noticeable at all. I was, however, very glad that we were dealing with a hardwood floor. I had no idea how to remove a pool of dried blood from a carpet.

We had used a lot of water, so I left the front door open to speed up the drying.

With the floor taken care of, we retrieved the grind-and-brew coffeemaker I'd bought in Phoenix from the trunk of Steve's car and began setting it up in the kitchen. While Steve read the instruction book, I filled the coffee maker with nothing but water and hit the button to start it, as I'd learned the hard way that a coffee maker's first run usually tasted like plastic.

We had no sooner clicked it on, than Dex strolled in the open front door, nearly scaring us to death.

"You two are jumpy," Dex observed in his usual dry manner.

"You have a stunning grasp of the obvious, bud," Steve laughed, "What are you doing here?"

Dex parked himself on the sofa, "I was here earlier talking to your Dad, but they said they had to go see that officer who got shot. He said you guys would likely be back home about now, so here I am. While I was here earlier, the investigators took the cameras and some photos and your Dad wanted me to keep an eye on them. The camera stuff is all gone now; it was pretty much like I figured; high-end web cams, some with monofocus lenses attached, some movable. The only bad news is; no unexpected fingerprints have shown up so far on anything past the computer."

"So Eric wore gloves? I hope that won't get him off the hook."

"Probably not. He was the only one with access, and it went into his computer, and so did the keylogger on Mr. William's PC. But, I proved my hunch; no way could this have been him acting alone."

We waited for Dex to explain, but he just returned our gaze silently until Steve asked, "Okay, so, how did you determine that?"

Dex smiled, "I checked out the holes drilled in the ducting and the attic. They used a half-inch drill bit, and I checked with your Dad: He doesn't have a bit that size because he broke the one in his set a few years ago. Besides, Eric would've certainly needed a lot of advice on setting this thing up. He wasn't acting alone. But, he sure as hell was involved; the photo edits were done on his computer, and the keylogger in your Dad's PC sent log files to Eric's PC. He also needed to buy the equipment somewhere. No one here in town sells anything like that, and if he got it off the net, he'd need a shipping address that matched the billing address on whatever credit card he used. He's only sixteen, so I doubt he even has a credit card."

I shook my head, "When he was caught in Piedmont after stealing my Jeep he had some stolen credit cards with him. We were guessing he used the missing money from the blackmail to buy the gear, but who knows. He's also on the run and no one has seen him, so I'm guessing that someone is hiding him." After a pause, I continued, "So, any news on the e-mail from Thaddeus or on cracking the Data Stick?"

Dex laughed, "Not yet, but soon, I'm leaving for California in a week and I'm pretty sure I can crack the Data Stick there. As for the e-mail from Thaddeus, nothing new, but I'm wishing that I hadn't set that Easter Egg to erase itself. I should have used it to install a backdoor on his system instead. We could have learned a lot that way."

One question was still very much open, so I asked, "What about the microphones? Were there any?"

"Yep, webcams usually have microphones. As you could tell, there wasn't audio on the website, but Eric might have been able to listen himself from his PC. I don't know if he did, I'm still working on that.

"Any luck getting that website shut down? The news was all over both our schools today," I asked.

"I sent the e-mail from the Sheriff's station in town, on his letterhead, and the District Attorney added a note, plus the FBI is asking questions over the kiddie porn angle. That site should be gone soon. "

"I hope so. Enough people have seen those damn pictures," I grumbled.

"Yeah, but, stuff spreads on the internet. Eric had taken a bunch of the photos, stamped them with the site URL, plus the names he gave you, and posted them to Usenet and a bunch of gay picture-sharing sites. Your photos will probably be floating around the 'net for years," Dex said with a casual shrug.

I felt myself tense, my anger growing as I realized that this problem could haunt us for the rest of our lives, "Oh, shit! Isn't there any way we can get rid of them?"

"Nope. Not really."

Steve gave Dex a pained look and asked, "But they are technically kiddie porn and that's illegal. Can't they use that to have them removed?"

Dex shook his head, "No, that won't work. A lot of the pictures Eric uploaded are pretty much G-rated so there is nothing illegal about those except the way they were taken. He hit a whole slew of picture-sharing sites, and people copy them and pass them on. Once something is loose on the 'net, and people want it, it gets everywhere fast and there is no way to stop it."

That was unwelcome news and while I fumed, Steve told Dex, "Whatever you do, do NOT tell Veronica about this. She'd never let us forget it."

I'd never seen Dex hesitant before, but he sure made up for it by becoming the most uncomfortable looking guy I'd ever seen. "Uh... sorry guys, I didn't know. I stopped by today, and Rob and Joe were there. They had heard about the cameras and the shooting, so I filled them in on a little of it. They were really worried. Rob and Joe wanted the URL of the website..."

"Dex, please tell me you didn't..." I asked, hoping against hope.

"Uh, dudes, they offered me a case of vodka. Good vodka!"

"Oh no... How could you?" I gasped.

Dex stared intently at the floor, "I didn't give them the web address. I wouldn't do that. I, uh, just told them how to find it. It's all over the internet already, easy to find with a search and, ah, I figured they were just curious."

"Like hell you did! You knew those two perves had other ideas... And worse, they will tell Veronica," said Steve.

Whatever Dex was staring at on the floor must have been truly fascinating, because his eyes never left it, "Uh, she already knows. They pulled up the site on her PC, and she was asking me questions about printing pictures."

"Oh, shit, she won't ever let us live this down; you know that, don't you?" I asked.

Dex looked about ready to crawl into a hole, "Sorry guys..."

I exchanged a glance and a shrug with Steve before letting Dex off the hook, "Don't sweat it; I'm sure she would have found out eventually."

Dex played a few video games with us, winning every time, and then left just before Steve's parents returned home.

Mr. Williams greeted us as he came in the door, and got right to the point;"Chris, officer Jacobs would like you to stop by and see him when you can, so he can thank you. They are keeping him there for a couple of days but he should be fine, though his recovery won't be fun."

I blushed a little, "I just tried to help; he doesn't need to thank me."

"Bullshit. The paramedics said you saved his life. That is a verybig deal in my book. So go stop by and let the guy thank you face-to-face," said Mr. Williams, in his usual no-nonsense way.

I agreed to visit the officer, and the four of us sat down as Mr. Williams evidently had more on his mind;"Guys, I had a chat with the prosecutor today, and on his advice I've set up an appointment for both of you to meet with a lawyer. The prosecutor thinks this might be actionable in civil court due to those damn flyers, and so did the lawyer I spoke to. The prosecutor has a high opinion of him even though the lawyer is new in town, so I would strongly suggest talking to this lawyer and hearing whatever he has to say. His name is Rick Callahan and he already has a good rep, plus he sounds pretty sharp."

Alarm bells started going off in my head, "Okay, sir, but what about the subject matter? A lot of people in this town aren't exactly open-minded. Also, how would we pay him?"

Much to my surprise, Mr. Williams laughed, "No problem there on either score guys. I asked Rick if he would be comfortable representing two gay teens, and he told me straight out that he's gay himself, and has been out for years. As far as the money goes, civil cases aren't like criminal ones. In cases where a financial award is likely, the lawyer often takes the case for a percentage of what he wins for you, usually a third of it. He said he's looking forward to meeting you both at 9AM tomorrow morning. I know that means missing classes, but do it if you can."

Steve and I both nodded our assent, attracted most of all to the idea of finally having a chance to hit back at the Fundies in some way.

Mrs. Williams must have read our minds;"I hope this works, because I'd sure like to see those cretins get a dose of their own medicine. Perhaps, if they get stung, they will learn to leave you two alone," she said, before heading for the kitchen. It wasn't long before we heard a startled, "Oh, my!" from that direction.

Steve and I headed for the kitchen, with Mr. Williams following behind, no doubt puzzled by our grins. Mrs. Williams pointed to the new coffeemaker, "Where did that come from?" She asked, with a bemused look on her face.

"We picked it up when we were in Phoenix," I replied.

"Nope, no 'we'. Chris got it," said Steve with a grin.

"I've always wanted one of these. Thank you!"

Mr. Williams gently took me aside, and said, loud enough for only Steve and me to hear, "This is so nice of you that I'll spare you the embarrassment of telling you that I know exactlywhat happened to my missing blue tie."

As I turned a dozen shades of red, Steve began to gasp for air as he fought a loosing battle to stifle a laugh. I finally met Mr. Williams' merry eyes, and realized that he was surely the source of my boyfriend's offbeat sense of humor.

Mrs. Williams gave us all a puzzled look as she cottoned on to the fact that something was up, but Mr. Williams deftly changed the subject back to the new coffeemaker, and after thanking me for it again, hit the button to start a brew.

The machine clicked, and buzzed as it ground the coffee and loaded it into the basket, soon followed by a gurgling sound and the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee.

We told Steve's parents about our new cell phones, and after we all enjoyed a cup of coffee together, I could tell that Mrs. Williams was putting up a good front but was deeply shaken by the recent events. I suppose coming home to find blood and a bullet hole in your living room plus hearing the news that your youngest son is on the run after shooting a police officer can be a bit much for anyone to handle.

Steve and I withdrew from the living room to give his father a chance to talk privately to his wife. We headed for my apartment, padding across the dark backyard. Once inside, I looked up to see a gaping hole in my wall; the investigators had been none too careful when they had ripped out the camera that had apparently been hidden in a fire alarm; they had yanked the alarm right off the wall and both it and the camera were gone.

Sitting down at the table by the window, we began our homework. After about half an hour, Steve got up, "I'm just going to check on Mom. Want me to bring back a soda or anything?"

"Yeah, thanks, and make sure she is ok. This must be a hell of a shock."

Steve left, closing the door behind him, and I heard his sure footsteps in the path outside my window. I was worried about Mrs. Williams, and hoped that she was doing ok.

I returned to my chemistry homework, wondering if I'd ever understand covalent bonds. I jotted down notes, and concentrated on finishing the chapter before Steve's return.

The din of my air conditioner, installed in the window on the opposite side of my tiny studio apartment, abated as it cycled off. I heard Steve's footsteps as he returned and closed my Chemistry Book. I expected Steve to come right in, but heard him shuffle outside my window. I felt a chill race down my spine as I realized that I was hearing multiple footsteps...

Unless Steve had grown some extra sets of legs in the last few minutes, either he wasn't alone or it wasn't him. I knew it might be his parents, so I relaxed a little. My reprieve lasted only for a few moments; a soft rustle against the glass, on the opposite side of my closed blinds and inches from my head made my gut clench.

Someone was right outside my window... Several someones.

I still hoped it was Steve and his parents, but I knew they wouldn't act like that, not after the threats we'd had. Eric? Maybe, he was still on the loose, but if so, he wasn't alone.

Hearing a soft scrape right outside my door I turned around slowly, only to see that the door was not locked. I felt a fresh chill, and the surge of adrenalin. I glanced at the door, just a few paces away and then at my bed, a few paces in the opposite direction. I knew that I might not get to the door in time, and for all I knew, whoever it was might be armed and shoot me through the door the second they heard the click of the lock.

I crept out of my chair and around the end of my bed, trying to be silent. Kneeling by my nightstand, I hurriedly felt under my bed, relaxing slightly when my hand found the welcome touch of cold metal.

I eased the double-barrel 12-gauge Mr. Williams had given me out, broke it open to check that it was loaded, and swung it shut again as quietly as I could. I crouched down beside my bed, aiming for the door. The bed would give me a little cover, which was a plus, but I had no escape route, which was a definite negative.

Cradling the 12-gauge with one hand, I reached behind me for my phone and pulled it off the hook as I hit the speed-dial button for the phone in Steve's room. The ringing in the earpiece sounded loud enough to wake the dead, but I hoped it wasn't loud enough to hear outside.

After what seemed like an eternity, Steve picked up on the third ring. I whispered, as loudly as I dared, "There are people outside my door, sneaking around."

Steve paused for an endless second, "Dude, get the shotgun, dad and I will be there..."

Whatever he was saying was drowned out by a thud, and then an overwhelming crash as my door was kicked in. I ducked down as low as I dared; lining up on the door with both barrels, easing my finger onto the front trigger as a very large redhead stormed in, with several other guys right behind him.