Final Victim

Chapter 21

The Rat had found a new place for the barge. It was miles farther down the Little Manatee River in the heart of the wetlands. He'd gone searching in his air-boat and he was sure it was deep enough for the heavy metal garbage barge, but he had not yet moved it. He sat in his underwear in the hull, enduring the intense late-afternoon heat. Deep in thought, he looked at the rusting walls. He had been waiting for the coveting to begin, for the sensation of need that filled him like electricity, making his skin burn, turning his mind taut and his emotions quick with longing. He sat in the stifling heat, wondering if he dared turn on the computer again. He knew he was engaged in a vicious, deadly, apocalyptic struggle with the Deity. He knew the answers he needed were more important than the risks; that the Beast must be constructed and given life so the answers could be told to him. He reached out and turned on his computer. He dialed into his account at the University of Florida on his cellphone, which was connected to his modem. He had decided not to use a hardwire phone hookup to reduce his risk of discovery. He would continue to use Pennet as his host computer because he generally trusted the high-tech security on that system, despite what had happened last Sunday. He decided it was his own carelessness that had caused that disaster.

All week he had worked to make a new program that would be even more secure. It would protect him by using a leapfrog Internet address which was designed to work as an electronic trap. Anybody backfingering to that address would be busted by his alarm program and he would be alerted before they could get to him, allowing him to disconnect from Pennet and vanish into cyberspace.

The Rat knew it was time for a new coveting to begin. He would go back into the SurgiCyberNet, which was where he made all his parts selections for the Beast. It was where he had been given the message almost two years ago that told him how to proceed. He logged on and typed in the name of his electronic trap:

Iogflnger

He then telnetted to Pennet at:

rIng2Ice. Anon. Pennet. No

And his screen said:

Connected to rIng2Ice. Anon. Pennet. No Escape character Is 'Ar

SunOS UNIX (rIng2Ice)

login:

And the password:

Mutil8oR

And was quickly accepted into Pennet:

WELCOME TO PENNET, rat

He checked the private chat channel to see if Satan might be there, typing:

bbs/nick WIndMInstrel

And was greeted by:

WELCOME TO PENNET CHAT, WIndMInstrel

When he saw Satan wasn't there, he left chat and shot through Pennet and out into cyberspace, then cracked the SurgiCyberNet system with a username/password he had already cracked months ago. SurgiCyberNet was a network for plastic surgeons, who left "before" and "after" pictures of patients and procedures so that they could share new techniques. The Rat had found the SurgiCyberNet chat line two years ago and had begun scrolling avidly through pictures of naked women. Its symbol on the Internet was G. The symbol had fascinated him. The S inside the C seemed to beckon him. S was Shirley's initial; C and S stood for cyberspace, which was his most powerful universe. Could this be a sign? As he looked at the pictures of naked women, his mind was still on the symbol. Then, by accident, he came across a picture of a woman who had unshaven legs and stocky, Shirley-like ankles. Shirley had never shaved her legs, because she said shaving one's appendages to attract sexual favors offended God. The Rat looked at the picture of the woman with Shirley's ankles for hours. Her name was Leslie Bowers and she was scheduled for liposuction on her thighs. It was almost as if Shirley's lower legs were there on the screen. His heart pounded and he wondered how two people could have identical calves and ankles. Had God also told this woman not to shave her legs? Then a mind-numbing thought hit him: Unless Shirley and the woman had a genuine correlation in the universe, unless they were part of the exact same eternal mosaic, how could they have calves and ankles that looked exactly the same? He knew that no two faces or fingerprints were identical. With legs, of course, there were far fewer identifiers, but still the thought intrigued him. It buzzed in his head like a broken speaker for days. It plagued him at night and kept him awake.

He had returned to the SurgiCyberNet chat line every evening. Each time, he would find Leslie Bowers's picture and surgical data. Then one night, he saw the message! Under the picture of Leslie Bowers, it said:

Surgery date 1/13/94 And below that: