by Hunter, Troy
“I didn’t give the Department of Fish and Game a virus.”
My heart drops like a stone. I’d been clinging to the hope that the virus would work even if the clock was off. “What?” My voice is soft and quiet.
“I didn’t want anything to happen between you and Dale in the car, so I rushed out as fast as I could and I didn’t do the virus,” she says, speaking quickly, the words pouring from her mouth like bile. “I’m so sorry, for all of it.”
“Goodbye, Kate.” I hang up the phone, staring blankly at the wall.
How could she do something like this? How could she be so selfish? I curl my hand into a fist at my side as animalistic rage builds within me. My wolf is roaring, hurling himself against my conscious mind. I need to regain control. I take deep, soothing breaths until the wolf settles. He paces inside me, huffing and snarling.
Senior yearbook in hand, I head back to the sofa. Weitz, Weitz, Weitz…I run my finger over the names in the yearbook, searching for his. He’s almost the last name in our class. I peer at the photo of a scrawny kid with a genuine, open smile. I recognize that smile. This kid, a little too thin and clean-shaven, is definitely Dale.
The photo sparks a memory within me, and I return to the bookshelf, grabbing the yearbook from my junior year, the year I was in Grease. There’s a cast and crew photo under the Drama Department. I flip to it and search the faces pictured to see if I’ll find him. There’s Kate, dressed in costume, and me a few rows back. And then I see him. Standing to the side, on the very edge of the group is Dale. He’s posing awkwardly, stiffly, as if he isn’t used to having his picture taken. Dressed in the black uniform of the crew members, he almost blends in with the stage curtains in back.
We were in Grease together. I think back to that year, that semester. Memories come drifting back, memories of dancing, bad singing, the thrill of opening night, and a kiss on the field. I know why I recognized Dale’s scent, why his kiss felt familiar.
My first kiss was with Dale Weitz on the football field, under the stars. I remember leading him out there, thinking it might be romantic and wanting it to be special. Plus, I was nervous and needed to be out in nature to help me calm down. It was an amazing first kiss. We were interrupted, which was probably a good thing because I was moments away from proposing that we fuck right there.
And then the next day…nothing happened between us. Because of me. Word had gotten to me that morning that Dale tortured animals, now I remember. And I was pissed. I wanted nothing to do with him and I was even furious that I’d kissed a guy like that. So I ignored him the next day and every day after, except to occasionally whisper insults under my breath when I passed him. I treated him like shit because I thought he deserved it. But he didn’t. It was a lie.
Sighing, I drag a hand over my jaw, clean-shaven now. I can’t believe this. Dale and I could have been something. We could have had something amazing and I wonder if maybe we really are mates. Maybe mates are real, and maybe I found mine in high school, only to drive him away.
I need to apologize to Dale. I can’t imagine how much I hurt him when I rejected him right after that kiss. No one even knew he was gay until we graduated. For him to open himself up to another guy and then be treated like shit right after, no wonder he came to Bear Moose to find me and test the ARF device on me. Hell, I would have done the same thing.
It’s almost midnight now. I don’t think Dale would appreciate a midnight apology. I’ll have to see him tomorrow, find him at his house. That is, if he hasn’t left yet. God, I hope he’s still here.
If he already left for Silicon Valley, I’ll follow him. I’ll do whatever it takes to set things right between us. I’m still a little irate that he tested out his invention on me, but I think it’s time to move on from that. The fact is, he’s my mate. My fucking mate. And I’d do whatever it takes to be with that man.
Dale
I yawn, eyes clenched tightly closed. It’s late, but I’m not done making my preparations yet. There’s a lot to do tonight. First, the ARF device needed a few improvements, namely improving speed and making it less of a crutch for the people who use it. I think that’ll make it easier for people to accept.
Taking another sip of my coffee, I tap at my keyboard, correcting part of my coding that I messed up earlier. The door opens and Michael slips in. He approaches, looking curiously at the ARF device on the desk.
“What’s that?” he asks, leaning over me.
I finish up my code, so I don’t lose my place before answering him. “It’s called the Automatic Response to Flirtation Device. It’s for work.”
“Automatic Response to Flirtation? What does it do?”
“It has an artificial intelligence that analyzes body language, heart rate, and even sweat secretion to give you suggestions on how to flirt with the other person, what they’ll respond to best. See this ear piece? You stick that in your ear and then you can hear the suggestions the AI makes,” I explain.
“So it’s a computer that tells you how to make someone like you, basically?” he asks, taking a seat on the edge of my bed.
I shrug. “Yeah, simply put.”
“Why don’t you just be yourself?” he asks, eyebrows twitching together.
I pause, my fingers frozen over the keyboard. “I mean, come on. That might work for most people, but not everyone. Like me.”
He purses his lips. “It’s an amazing invention, but I think you’re pretty great, Dale. I don’t think you need this.”
I pause, considering his words. Using the ARF device, it was easy to talk to Cliff, I was never worried that I’d say or do something that would throw him off. But I never felt like I was being completely myself. When we were at the lake though, right after the device died, that’s when I felt the most comfortable. It was nice to not have a voice in my ear telling me what to do. I even forgot about it for a little. Maybe Michael is right. Maybe.
“I don’t know—it makes it easier.” I chew my lip.
“I don’t mean to pry, but is this what you and Cliff were fighting about the other day?”
I sigh, pushing away from the desk. “Yeah. He found out I was testing the device. I want to apologize, show him the device and that it doesn’t give word for word responses. But I don’t know if he’ll believe me.”
“Well what if you took a lie detector test in front of him?” Michael jokes, laughing.
I pause. “That’s not a bad idea.”
“I was just joking,” Michael says, eyebrows arched with surprise.
“Yeah, but I think you might be onto something.” I turn back to my desk, closing the code for the ARF device and searching through my files intently.
To my left, Michael shrugs and rises. “Good luck,” he says as he leaves the room.
“Thanks,” I say, my voice clipped with excitement.
I find the file with my code for the brain wave reading program I showed to the investors. It’s completely different programming from the ARF device, but the key is that both rely on body language and readings of heart rate and sweat secretion to make their analyses. I didn’t bring the physical device with me, but I can easily download the code for the mind reader into the ARF device. I’ll make it something entirely new.
Suddenly, an error message appears on my screen. “Damn,” I murmur to myself. It’s more complicated than I thought to make these adjustments. I try to find the error in my code, but I’m missing it completely.
Error.
Error.
Error.
“Damn it!” I push myself away from my desk in frustration.
“Everything okay in here?” my mom asks, poking her head through the door. She’s already in her pajamas, her hair up in rollers.
I sigh. “Sorry, Mom, I didn’t mean to be so loud.”
“It’s okay. What are you working on?”
“I’m trying to finish this code but I can’t get it right. Something’s programmed wrong, but I can’t find the right source.” I wave frustratedly at m
y laptop.
She approaches, studying the code. “Well, I’ve found something, on that line there.” She points.
“What?” I turn, studying the line she indicated. And then I see it, a simple mistake I missed because it’s so small. Small but certainly impactful. Quickly, I erase the broken part and type in a correction. “Thanks, Mom.”
Error.
“Damn. Something else must be wrong,” I murmur, scrolling through my programming.
She pulls up a chair beside me and I move aside so she can review the code. “What’s it for, honey?”
“Uh, a program that can kind of read minds, in a way,” I say sheepishly.
She makes an agreeing noise. “Great idea! This looks great—you’re a very talented programmer, Dale,” she says proudly.
“Thanks, Mom.” I smile.
“Oh, there’s another one.” She points.
“You’re right.” I hurriedly make the correction. “I still have some code to finish. Would you mind helping?”
My mom taught me everything I know about programming and she’s even better than I am. Luckily, she agrees to help. We spend the next hour reviewing the length of my code to check for additional errors. And then another hour after that discussing additional source code we should write.
By midnight, my mom is exhausted, stray hairs sticking out of the rollers. She yawns and turns her sleepy eyes to me. “I think we’ve got it, Dale. Good job, honey.”
“Thanks for helping, Mom. Sorry we stayed up so late.” I rise, wrapping her in a hug.
She seems so much smaller than she used to. I give her a tight squeeze. I may have resented her for the first few days of my visit, feeling a little betrayed that she and my father had basically extended the family without me. But I was wrong, she’s still my mom and I’m her little Dale Pickle, as she used to say when I was just a kid.
“Goodnight, Dale Pickle.” She winks at me as she slips out of the room.
I yawn, stretching my arms over my head. I hear the satisfying pop of my back and my neck as I do so. With the code finished, I set to work downloading it to the ARF device. It’ll take some time to get the entire file on there. It’s a big one.
My problem with Cliff is partially solved: I at least have a plan. But, the issue regarding the lottery remains. I don’t know if I can leave that unresolved. I want to help the wolf pups and their mother survive. And I owe it to Cliff.
I return to my laptop and ponder the situation. I need to change the server’s equation before they run it…I rub my aching head. It’s been a long day. But I can’t sleep until I figure out this puzzle. So I pull up my coding program and mess around for a bit. I can’t go back to the Department of Fish and Game, and I can’t hack into one of the employee’s personal accounts to control the lottery from there.
An email attachment containing the virus won’t do either. No, I need something with a little more finesse. I stroke my beard, staring blankly at the wall. And then I realize what I have to do. Chuckling, I get to work.
Cliff
Dawn has just broken over the mountains, its warm rays stretch across the town. I study the sky, seeing a few puffy clouds lit with a golden glow. It’s the perfect day to take pictures. I adjust the strap of my camera case over my shoulder as I enter the Cocoa Peak. Today, I plan to capture as many photos of the wolf family as I can and distribute them around town. Today is the day the winners of the lottery will be announced. I hope that if enough people see the wolf family and the young pups, they’ll be moved to push back against the lottery. It might be a little full-on, but it’s the only thing I can think of.
The barista at the counter has my coffee prepped already, so I slip her a few bills wordlessly. I’m not in the mood for polite conversation today, my thoughts are all wrapped up in Dale and the pack. I slide into a seat at the table and pull my camera out. I know I have a few photos on here already—I’ll head to the printers and distribute a few before I head out into the woods.
Sighing, I search through the photos. These aren’t good enough. Nowhere near good enough. They’re not strong enough, they don’t evoke enough feeling. I sigh frustratedly, resisting the sudden urge to slam my camera against the wall.
I hear the door open and catch the faint smell of fresh flowers and ground coffee. Kate. I ignore her, even though I can feel her eyes on me as she walks past. She orders a coffee. On the days that her dad works in the coffee shop they own, Kate doesn’t get her coffee there. They have a tenuous relationship. So she drinks here instead.
She takes a seat nearby, occasionally looking this way. Damn, an entire grouping of photos is completely out of focus. How the hell didn’t I notice? I curse under my breath as I begin to feel the first waves of hopelessness. But I can’t give up. I have to try.
I’m pulled abruptly from my thoughts by the sound of a cellphone ringing. My head snaps us, eyes narrowed as I search for the source of the noise. I need some fucking peace and quiet.
It’s Kate, she answers hurriedly. “Hello?” Her voice is laced with relief and sadness.
I sniff, turning back to my work. I just need three or four to get started. And then I’ll get some more.
“I can do that, give me a second.” I hear Kate say. She rises and hurries to the counter, leaning over it to catch the barista’s attention. “I did it. Okay, bye.”
I want to snatch the phone from her hand and shout at the person asking her for a favor that Kate is the last person on earth who should be trusted with anything like that. But she’s hung up the phone now and is on the edge of her seat. The radio station changes, the soft American folk replaced with traditional country. What is she doing? I wonder, glancing at her from the corner of my eye.
The song ends and the DJ comes on. “Alright, today is the day folks! Now, I know all of you have been waiting to hear the results of the Department of Fish and Game’s lottery for a hunting license, and today is that day! I’ve got the results right here and quite frankly I can’t believe what I’m seeing!”
I’m listening intently, hardly breathing, as I wait for the results. Please, please, please, I beg.
“We’ve got three hunting licenses, and the winner is…”
Winner? Singular? I look up from the table I was busy boring holes into and stare questioningly at the speaker. What did he mean, winner? Maybe just the first one, I think, nodding to myself.
“Cliff Taylor, everybody!” the radio DJ cheers. “Cliff Taylor won all three hunting licenses. Cliff Taylor, you may collect the hunting licenses from your local office of the Department of Fish and Game, just show them picture ID. Congratulations, Cliff Taylor! And you all better suck up to him, who knows, maybe he’ll share.”
I can’t feel my legs.
Hardly comprehending what’s happening, I accept congratulations from the few patrons in the store, numbly shaking their hands. I look at Kate, still seated, she’s smiling shyly at me. And then she points behind me, toward the door.
Confused, I twist in my chair, only to see Dale standing behind me. His cheeks are a light pink as if he ran here and his hair is slightly mussed. There are purple bags under his eyes. He looks exhausted. But he’s smiling at me, a smile so genuine and bright I can feel my heart stirring in my chest. I don’t know why he’s here but I’m glad he is. I didn’t realize how much I missed him until this moment.
Before I can rise to greet him, he takes the seat opposite me. “Hello, Cliff,” he says. He sounds confident, different.
I blink at him. “Hi, Dale.” He smiles at me. “What are you doing here? And how the hell did I win the lottery?”
“First, I needed to speak to you again, and I knew I couldn’t face you after Kate told me what she had done. The least I could do was try to help you,” he explains. “I realized last night that I could still send the virus.”
“Email?” I ask incredulously, arching a brow.
He chuckles. “No. I accessed their employee website and slipped the virus into the code. Any employee who logged
in through their website would’ve automatically downloaded the virus. It’s a technique called a drive-by download. I wasn’t sure if it would work, it was a little tricky, but I’m glad it did.”
“A drive-by download,” I echo, still not quite believing I won the hunting licenses.
“I know it’s your pack and those wolves are like your family, but after spending time with them…I couldn’t leave it alone,” he says sheepishly.
I’m overcome with emotion. My heart is straining against my ribcage I feel so happy, grateful, and damn it, in love. I swallow with some difficulty as I bite back any tears that threaten to spill. My pack is finally safe.
“Thank you, Dale.” Tentatively, I reach across the table and lay my hand over his.
“I need to apologize to you, Cliff,” he continues, taking a deep breath. “I was wrong to use the device on you without telling you. I thought about it, and I understand why you felt misled. I’m so sorry.”
I suck in a breath through my teeth. I want to believe him, more than anything. But what if this is just something the device is telling him to say? “Are you wearing it right now?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I have it with me.” He draws a plastic device no larger than a flip phone from his pocket, and then a wireless ear piece. “I want you to know how serious I am. I changed the code from the ARF device to a miniature polygraph test. Here.” He holds it out to me.
I take it, holding it carefully because it feels so fragile. “A polygraph?”
“Kind of. It’s more sensitive than that, but that’s the idea.” He nods.
“How do I use it?” I hold the earpiece closer to my face. No wonder I never saw him wearing this, it’s completely clear, and smaller than my pinkie nail.
He leans over the desk and pushes some buttons on the device. “Put that in your ear, yeah, just like that. And then ask me questions. I already calibrated it to focus on me,” Dale explains.
“Okay,” I sigh. “Here goes.”
“I’m ready.” He sits up confidently.