DOD TOWN

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It was closing in on sunset and I was tired. I scouted the roadway for a place to turn off for the night. Both sides of the highway were wooded but here and there gaps in the trees indicated places where roads had been cut. I found an accommodating hole in the trees. The road wasn't paved but it was hard packed. I followed it about a quarter of a mile and then it sharply bent to the right. I stayed on its back and swung along in the direction of the bend. Quite unexpectedly we were confronted by a military truck blocking our path.

I barely had time to stop and no time to retreat.

"You're in a restricted area."

I just looked as dumb as I could which is pretty damn dumb.

A stern uniformed face was giving me the command presence eye, "You have no business here. You're in violation of national security."

The longer I gazed at his face the more the severity in the expression threatened me. I felt myself yielding to it in the form of inaction and silence. I recalled something Rallio had told me earlier. When he came into contact with uniformed officers in the Army, it was the same old thing we saw with most authority. All that existed was the challenge, no sign of intelligence or awareness behind the challenge. That was all they had. And when that's all you've got you build the wall at the challenge.

"I didn't see any signs posted. Rallio, you see anything about national security posted?"

"In the interest of security we post no signs," the MP said.

"So how are we suppose to know?"

"I'm to detain you while I run your identification."

Rallio nudged me and said, "We're going to put it in reverse and pull out of here and you won't have to bother."

I took my cue and eased in the clutch, pushed down on the shift and found reverse.

"I can't let you do that."

Rallio called through the window, "Yeh you can. Save yourself the paperwork and answering all sorts of stupid questions."

We were gone the way we had come.

"Rallio?"

"Yeh"

"How'd you know he wasn't going to blow us off the road? Shoot first and make up answers later."

"Two years in the fucking Army and at least I learned something. Even if he thinks he knows why he's standing there, a guy alone is not going to make a move unless he's sure or scared. Ten guys, and we'd have to comply, he has to look good for the troops. One guy and he defers to us. Also, in the military, no one wants to explain anything about anything to anyone at anytime.

Rallio looked at me with a big grin, "Mostly that's how it works. There are exceptions."

Rallio was like a dog I once had. At the end of his life the poor old mutt went into a kind of coma as I stood a death watch. In the middle of the night, for a brief moment, he lifted his head, looked at me with recognition in his eyes and wagged his tale, then his head lowered and he was back in his wakeless sleep.

The MP's warning forced us to drive further into the dusk. So when the van faltered, it was national security that put us at risk.

We stopped dead on a two lane bridge that stretched for about a half mile over a river. The only redeeming feature about our predicament was that there was no traffic.

Rallio was stoned out of his gourd. I didn't know anyone could get that wasted smoking dope.

Rallio had toked up after we had passed through a living ghost town, a small community that might as well have been a studio backlot, a perfect re-creation of a small deserted town. The streets were clear with telltale signs of occupation left as evidence; a dampened sidewalk or a blinking traffic light. If I was spooked, Rallio was terrified. If I was slightly agitated, Rallio was on hyper-alert. His hand was white knuckled on the door handle. If I thought I was doing a Twilight Zone episode, Rallio was positively flashing. If I was seeing bony old ladies pulling back the blinds to peer at us, he was seeing the muzzle of AK's ready to spring the ambush. "Maybe you want to have a little puff of somethin', uh man?" It was weird counsel but I was looking to calm him, to tell him to relax so I could do the same.

"No," he snapped. He wanted all his senses firing. Later I would find out this wasn't unusual. Despite all the stories of drugged GI's, when they were out on patrol most tolerated nothing that might dull the senses.

We continued down what seemed like endless blocks but was probably only three or four. Then the town ended and Rallio took up my suggestion.

Not more than two or three miles away from Spooksville we came upon the bridge and the gas pedal failed. The accelerator was stuck to the floorboard. I reached down and pulled it up by hand. The pedal offered no resistance. "Something ain't right," Rallio offered.

"No shit!" It came out a little more brusque than I intended.

We went back and opened the engine compartment.

"I think the cable`s busted." I pulled the strands from the carburetor connection and the broken wire tailed out behind the car.

"No shit," he said.

"We're in the middle of nowhere but we still better move it off this bridge. It'll be completely dark in a bit and who knows what might come pounding out of the night."

Both of us took up the position; Rallio at the back of the bus and me pushing from the driver's side with the door opened ready to hop in behind the wheel if need be.

The roadbed of the bridge was lined with metal ridges. Whether this was a design of the bridge or because it was in a state of repair only the department of highways knew for sure. But the effect on us was sheer agony. At driving speed the metal plates made for a rough road but at pushing speed they were barely surmountable obstacles. We rocked the van and then leaned into it to move it over the bump. Sometimes our momentum carried us over the next hurdle but just as frequently we had to start the process over. It wasn't long before we were both sucking wind propped up against the bus.

Rallio came forward to my side of the van, "Why don't we wire the throttle open. Maybe we can get the thing off the bridge."

"That's worth a try," I agreed.

I went back and tied the carburetor connection up so that the gas was always flowing at a heavy volume. I started it up and with the engine racing, I ground it into gear and off we went. When we were safely off the bridge I pulled to the shoulder and turned off the ignition. I wanted to continue but I was afraid I'd burn out the engine.

Rallio and I decided that we had to make it to the next town. We began to walk north sticking out our thumb as each car straggled by us. We were still within eyesight of our van when an old grey sedan pulled up behind us. We were introduced to two young brothers who seemed to be riding with an abundance of good nature between them. By the look of the empty food wrappers and odds and ends strewn about the car, I'd say the owner of the vehicle wasn't doing a lot of dating.

Delbert, the driver, said he'd take us to the auto parts store in the municipality up ahead.

"This is it," Delmore, the driver's brother said as we swung into a darkened row of storefronts, "And it looks as if everything is closed for the night." The town was garaged for the evening.

The sedan took a stroll down a couple of blocks and emerged into a large flat green space. It was dark on the side we approached in contrast to the lights shining over the baseball diamond at the far end of the park. An adult softball game was in progress and the blues, reds and whites of the uniforms seemed to emanate their own luminescence under the lights. The car door opened.

"Rallio, do you ... " I said in a low voice. I coughed and covered my face with my hand.

"...Smell something awful. No." He replied in a like volumed voice.

A dozen or so young people were sitting on the benches and against the trees. Two dogs were wearing their best hound faces as they sat at the feet of a kid eating french fries. The brothers introduced us all around. I caught pieces of their names as they flew by but if I was quizzed for recall I would definitely have flunked. I had my eye on a girl in a peasant blouse and jeans. The blouse formed a crescent below her neck that was a flat piece of linen embroidered with dainty flowers and then billowed like a skirt at the peaks of the breasts. It was a very modest look but erotic at the same time. No cleavage showed but every movement was an undelivered promise of a view from the belly looking up. And if the girl was not wearing a bra, as the young girls often were not, well... it gives me quivers just imagining. "You two must either be someone's relative or you are very lost to come through here." She had a sweet smile that punctuated her sentence. Sweet not like sugar but like liqueur, a taste you could never get enough of.

Rallio wandered over to where three guys sat on top of a picnic table in the shadows. I knew without asking they were vets. The worn fatigues were not Army surplus.

The fellow with the dogs was talking to the canines in the way people talk to children, like the talking might be a preparation for a career in nuclear physics so understanding is vital, "Don't fight over the scraps, there's enough for both of you." Of course, the dogs, like children, only saw the french fry dangling from the fingers and the speaker could have been reciting the Gettysburg Address for all they cared.

"This looks like a nice place to live." I gave a large gesture and said to the girl, "You've got a nice park here with friendly people. What more could you ask for?" All she had to do was signal with her finger for me to follow and I could abandon my quest. We could live happily ever after in a little shack on the outskirts of town. I would provide for the family by fishing and chopping wood and growing vegetables and maybe uncovering the ruins to an old mine. We'd take out just enough of the nuggets to buy provisions and a big brass bed with a feather mattress that we'd bounce on every night. I'd come home and undo that peasant blouse of hers and reach in and ... I'm getting ahead of myself.

Words spat out from the direction of the vets, "I stuck my neck out for you to get that job and then you don't show up. What am I suppose to say when they ask where you are? That's the last chance you get with me." He was a big guy in his late twenties or early thirties dressed in a blue baseball shirt and white pants with those weird baseball stirrups over his sox. By the size of his upper arms he must have been able to knock the hell out of the ball with the bat he carried. "I wash my hands of you. You guys are nothing but losers."

A spirited voice called out, "Hey, how many hits did you get, big guy," It was the right thing to say to draw the player's attention away from the vets. I realized why everyone seemed to have an affectionate word for the guy they called Jodel.

"It's one of the Roseville little buds," I heard a girl's voice softly say and the other girls giggled.

The big guy turned toward Jodel but didn't move away from the four on the picnic table. I didn't know why but I got up and started towards Rallio. The two of us were vulnerable to the provincialism that his uniform wore. I passed within four or five feet of the ball player and he looked me over with a seriously threatening look and I did my best to give him back an unflinching stare while hoping he didn't tee off on me. He looked like he could crush me just with his chin.

"Yeh, I got my hits and we won our game." The emphasis was heavy on the "won".

He'd been playing slo-pitch softball, a game invented so that people like him would never have to know the disappointment in a swing that doesn't connect. I walked past Rallio and sat on the far end of the vets. Rallio and I were bookends. The big guy had psyched me into making an unconscious strategic move. I didn't know if Rallio felt it also because I didn't take my eyes off the guy. If he moved in either of our direction I was going for his throat and I had full faith Rallio would not only follow but be much more effective. The big lug eyed me and I got the feeling he was about to challenge me for information but he stopped short and stayed focused on Rallio. Rallio met him stare for stare.

Jodel was up from the park bench where he had been sitting and he was calling to the guy, inquiring as to the team standing. Jodel was beckoning with his inquisitiveness for the fellow to move towards him. Blessed are the peacemakers for their hearts are bigger than all of ours combined. The big uniform walked towards Jodel and then kept walking, hesitating in front of the girls and saying something to my friend in the peasant blouse before continuing on.

I casually inquired from the vet closest to me as to the name of the girl. "She's a stone cold fox, isn't she? She's nice to look at but that's as far as it goes.

She's Joe Del's brother's girl and he's in Germany in the Army and she's waiting for him. Everyone except the clown in the baseball uniform understands that."

"I can talk to her, can't I?" I was somewhat pissed that they were so keen on protecting her interests. At the same time I didn't want to be lumped into the category with the big bozo in the uniform.

The fellow shrugged a "be my quest" shrug.

Delmore was standing in front of us. "You two might as well stay for the night. Our parents will be gone for the week and we've got extra room." We left with the two brothers shortly thereafter. I watched for a look from her as we departed but her head never turned my way.

As we stashed our bags in the trunk of their sedan I gazed out past the baseball lights. A mansion rode the hill overlooking the rest of the town. We swung around the park towards the hill and I looked again at the large old plantation style manor. A rod iron fence surrounded the property. I could almost hear the guard dogs patrolling the fence. I didn't need the deterrents. Maybe I'd seen too many old movies, maybe the place looked different in the daytime, but for me there was nothing inviting in the austerity of that old face.

"Who's the guy on the sign?"

"That's the mayor," Delbert said.

"The mayor's an asshole and everybody knows it," Delmore added.

"If he's such an asshole, what's he doing on the sign?"

Delmore pointed down a street to his left. "Down that street is a vacant lot that has been designated as a site for the next new school."

We didn't say anything knowing more was to follow.

"Up ahead and off to this side," he was pointing to his right, "is another vacant lot that has been designated as the site for the next new school."

We patiently waited to see where this was leading.

"The town only needs one school. Politics being what it is keeps the mayor in office. We have two competing sites and a mayor, along with his cronies, who oppose the building of a new school. The majority of the voters in the town want a new school built. If that majority voted as a block, then the mayor would be out of office. But where the school is to be built is the defining political question not whether a school will be built. There are only two practical sites and each have their vocal and steadfast backers. Neither will concede the other's position even for the sake of removing the mayor so as soon as a candidate declares he's running for mayor he has to declare where the school is to be built which neatly splits the mayor's opposition."

"It sounds like a town that's ready to explode from factionalism."

"Naw, been like this forever. There's really only one faction, that's the Succing Empire, the rest is just politics. They were talking about a new school when I was in first grade." I wasn't yet sure what that meant in terms of years. I didn't have a fix on their ages. I figured the young one, Delmore, to be about my age, the older one, Delbert, to be four or five years older.

"We don't want to risk losing what we have. We've got it good here. We get the best concerts. Hendrix played here twice. There's two theaters downtown and a playhouse. One gets movies that haven't even been released in Hollywood. We're some kind of a test market. You've seen the park and the softball leagues. All those amenities are taken care of for us. There's plenty of good fishing year round, though the catch has been smaller in recent years."

"That's because you're a lousy fisherman and you get lousier every year. Don't be blaming your fishing on anything else. You'll be sounding like a Stinkerton."

The "Del" brothers pulled their sedan up into the drive of a tract style home. The yip of dogs welcomed us. From the depth of their bark I was somewhat wary of their size but they turned out to be two good-sized but very friendly Labrador-type dogs. Jumping from one of us to the other, they seemed almost as glad to see Rallio and me as they were to see the brothers.

"O.K. you mindless monsters we'll feed you, hang on. There's plenty for everyone. That's really the only thing they understand, food."

Their home was similar to the tracts in California but their property was much larger and the back emptied out into a wooded area.

"No fences," Rallio noted. "What keeps them from running off?"

"They wander but they come back. Dogs are very social creatures. They find a position in the family and their purpose in life is to fill that role."

"It looks like your dog's earthly purpose is to eat, sleep and shit."

"And play raggy doll. They know when they've got it good." He spoke directly to the mutt in a for-the-dog voice, "Don't you boy? You're living in the center of the biggest town in the county. All roads lead to Roseville. What more could you want, uh?" And he tossed a chew toy for the dog to prance after. He whistled and the dog ran back to him. "Whether by command or by the leash the dog walks at his master's side, ain't that right boy," he said lovingly.

"And what keeps them in dog bones?"

Delbert didn't answer right away. "We're a DOD town. If you don't work for the Succings, you make your living off those who do. The company put me through school and I'm in their accounting department. As soon as I pass the test I'll be a CPA. Delmore works down on the loading docks and if we wasn't so damn lazy, he could get an inside job."

"No thanks. I've got my security clearance same as you. We all have security clearances," Delmore explained to us. "Old man Succing invented some kind of vacuum process."

"You always say that. No he didn't. He was an accountant who got the contract for the process awarded to the town."

"Well, whatever the cause, the effect was the same. We ended up with the plant and he ended up owning everything that wasn't tied down."

"And a lot that was tied down. There's a lake about 10 miles away from here that may be one of the most beautiful spots in the world and it's all his."

"Does he let you have access to it?"

No, it's strictly private. Hard to get near these days. Used to be you could wander around up there but the property has electronic sensors now. He moved the backup records or something like that up there. Got the government to declare the grounds off limits. He gets the lake and we get the river. From here to Stinkerton it's all ours."

"What's a Stinkerton?" I asked.

"Pinkerton was, or is, a town just south of here. They claim that discharges from our operation forced their ground water to go bad. Fact is they contaminated it themselves. They use to supply us with one of the major components of our product but their cleaning procedure poured chemicals into big leach pits and some of it seeped into the groundwater. After that the town kind of dried up and we found another supplier."

Delbert threw a question at us, "Give me two of the biggest preoccupations of teenagers."

Neither Rallio nor I were venturing a guess. However, it wasn't the first time his brother had heard the pitch. "Pick me, pick me." His brother shook his raised hand at Delbert. "They like rock and roll?" He asked like he was the smart kid in class.

"Yeh, they like rock and roll. And what else?" The question was directed at us like a teacher who had heard too much from the smart kid in class.

But his brother answered. "They like sex," he blurted out. "Wow, what an idea. You're going to make rubbers with rock stars painted on them so the girls can say they were fucked by the Beatles." Delmore was very fond of his own drollery and he began to pile it on taking more glee with each remark. "I creamed with Cream," he said in a falsetto. I really experience Jimi." Then he began to sing, "Come together..." but the song was being choked off by his laughter and the tears in his eyes prevented him from continuing.

Delbert persisted. "Two common characteristics of teens. One, they like to listen to music. Two, they don't like to listen to their parents." He paused for effect. "We combine those two and we have a marketing bonanza, right?

"We give them all their own individual stereo complete with their own headphones. It's a marketing bonanza."

I couldn't picture it. Even if you could get the stereos down to less than room-size. Everyone running around with their ears plugged into their own sounds. We were headed towards a community of involvement not isolation, right? It's be like watching a first-run comedy movie alone at home.

We turned in for the night and awoke the next morning ready to find our accelerator cable.

The Del's knew the parts store was located in an auto dealership. "This guy started with one dealership, then he added another, and he's just opened a third. That's the way of business."

"He must have known a lot about cars."

"Can't remember if he did or not. His father owned the first dealership." Their sedan coasted into the car dealer's drive and Rallio and I coasted into the auto parts store while the brothers looked at the cars on the lot. The man behind the counter told us we didn't belong by the way his eyes followed us through the door.

I laid the cable on the counter, "We're looking for an accelerator cable off a VW van."

The man was older than me by another lifetime. He eyed me with a mixture of distaste and fear. The distaste I understood and the fear I found flattering. "We don't have that in stock."

"Can you order it?"

He went to a book and started flipping the pages.

"If I can get it, it'll cost you $60."

"How about for me? The price any lower." Rallio's tone wasn't as cordial as the words.

The man didn't answer.

Rallio and I looked at each other. "Sixty dollars for a goddam piece of wire."

"I can have it in two weeks."

"Two weeks?" We were all incredulous. Rallio was moving around the store and the man was eyeing him like he expected him to grab something and run. That distrust didn't help with my attitude. "How accommodating."

"Do you have any old cables we might be able to use?"

"We don't sell used parts and you wouldn't want a used cable anyway. A used cable is too dangerous. You go trusting it like it was new and the next thing you know, it breaks. Too risky."

That last bit of humanity made me soften my perspective on the clerk. "Any suggestions? We're not from around here." I was more than stating the obvious but the confession eased the tensions between us. "This seems to be a very lovely town in which to live but two weeks for us is a long time. Could we splice the thing?"

He came from around back of the counter and headed to his bolt bins, grabbed what he needed and then went into the back and came out with a two foot stretch of cable. "VW van. Don't like them myself. Not good for much of anything because the engine's ain't worth diddly squat but you've got room to work. Here's what you do. Wrap the cable around the bolt and tighten it down. Then wrap the other end and tighten it up. Got it?"

Rallio and I were both nodding in the affirmative.

"It won't last forever but it should get you down the road."

We paid the man a lot less than $60 and each of us thanked him several times. He even gave us a smile that revealed his tobacco stained teeth. He knew about cars. And for what he knew, he spent his time behind the counter of a parts store located in an auto dealership owned by a fellow that owned two others. He had helped two strangers whom he didn't trust. That was all we knew about him. Maybe he only wanted us out of his town. Maybe he had taken pity on our plight. Probably he saw his job as serving customers and he could do nothing less. No matter, the effect was the same and we piled into the Del's car with renewed hope.

The first look at my van parked forlornly on the side of the road begged me to ask the question: Who left the door open? The second look asked who the fuck stole our shit and what was left? We took inventory with murder in our eyes and profanity on our tongues. My surfboards and wetsuits were gone though I was hard pressed to envision anyone paddling out into the harshness of the Oregon coast. Much of Rallio's army stuff was gone. We'd been hit in the back of the head by an unknown assailant.

We went to work on the cable with our gut empty and our eyes filled with blood. My back was covered with dust. I grabbed a towel and threw it over the seat and cranked the ignition. The engine roared like I was speeding down a runway.

"What next?" I whined. I tend to cry in self-pity when things go wrong. It's not my best trait but when it doesn't aggravate the situation, my whining relieves some of the tension for me. I swung back under the van. There was a prominent sag where the bolts knotted the cables together. Even without a physics degree and no mechanical aptitude, I understood what was taking place.

"Bolt too tight?" Rallio peered under the carriage and asked.

"No, I think the weight of the bolts are bringing the cable down. Kind of like stepping on the gas without actually stepping on the gas." I pulled myself out from under the wheels and leaned against the side like a man whose dog had just died.

Delmore looked at Delbert and I heard him whisper, "There's the north end."

Delbert seemed to think it over before he finally asked us if we could get the van to run the few miles past the north end of town. "We'd be outside the city limits and outside the county and we don't usually like to have anything to do with the goings on out that way but there's an old junk yard that might have what we need."

As we got ready to follow the two brothers I asked, "What's wrong with the people on the north side, they full of plague or something?"

"Those people like it out there. That's why they stay out beyond the city limits."

That didn't seem like much of an answer to me. "What do they do?"

"I don't know. Whatever it is, they keep to themselves and we do the same." I left it at that and followed the grey sedan towards town.

No sign welcomed us past the city limits we simply dropped off a two foot ledge. Cannonballs chasing a retreating army must have shot the hell out of what remained of the rest of the road. We bounced and swerved for what seemed like an eternity until we came to the unmistakable presence of a junk yard. It was hard to believe that the old corrugated aluminum shrouding the yard protected our vision from something even uglier, hard to believe there was something uglier. We parked below the dented and scratched auto wrecking sign and prayed that no wind would come up to blow the thing over onto our cars. We crossed the portal of the gate. The four of us stood about ten feet inside the entrance huddled in a cluster, waiting. For what, not a one of us was sure. I felt like one of the Hardy boys on the verge of a mystery. A portly frame with long dirty blonde hair and a full beard came from around the corner wiping his hands with a red rag. The overalls he wore were spotted in black grime, the same grime that smeared his greasy cap. No smile was broken but there was something not unfriendly peering behind the glasses.

"What can I do you?"

We explained our situation and he led us out to our van, got down on his hands and knees and took a look. "You wire this up yourself?"

I couldn't tell if he was admiring the work or insulting it. "The guy at the parts store in town showed us how to do it. He didn't have a cable in stock. Think you might have something that could work?"

He nodded.

"A new cable?"

"No, but I'll find something in good condition."

"Will a used cable be reliable?"

"Plenty reliable. Just because the body is all dented up doesn't mean the whole car is good for nothing. If a man dies from a brain injury, you going to tell me his heart gave out?"

The brothers stayed by their sedan, no doubt thinking if they left it for two minutes they'd come back and find it stripped of all useful parts. Rallio stayed with Delbert and Delmore while I followed the red rag wiping the hands.

I stepped around the jagged scrap piles of rust and oil covered metal being careful not to snag anything that might come crashing down on me or cause me some kind of a terminal skin infection. No one had to tell me we were a long way from medical services.

"You get much traffic this way. I mean you sure have a lot of old car parts."

"Hard to believe these old pieces of metal were once someone's precious possession. Dependable or undependable, beautiful piece of machinery or pathetic pile of crap, I like to believe I give every old auto a respectful final resting place."

I couldn't tell if he was putting me on or serious about the importance of his labor. As we turned a corner into a row of old fenders, against my better judgment, I continued talking, "Are there a lot of other businesses around here? I didn't notice too many as we came in."

"Oh yes, these woods are home to many a thriving enterprise like mine. We're every bit the commercial, cultural and educational Mecca it appears. Here we go. I knew I'd seen one of these things around here. You'll want to leave that layer of grease. It not only preserves the metal, but you'll need it to run the cable."

As we retraced our steps back out to the van he asked from behind me, "Where you headed?"

"North," I said.

"How far north?"

I was reluctant to tell him and he sensed it. "Not that it's any of my nevermind, I was just being friendly."

We picked our way back to the van. I began to loosen our handiwork and I was pleasantly surprised when the junkman lent a hand by reaching into the driver's compartment, lifting the gas pedal and threading the cable along the length of the bus. He swung himself under the chassis, "I think this will fit nicely."

As soon as Delbert and Delmore heard the van start they begged out. We thanked them for their hospitality and hoped we'd meet them again sometime.

Rallio was watching an old dog lying in the middle of the road. "It's peaceful out here. Quiet."

"Yeh, I'm outside the anthill alright."

Rallio began to whistle for the dog.

"Of course, you have to give up some things and not only the obvious. You climb an anthill from inside."

Rallio stopped whistling long enough to say, "Sure enough, but even at the top, you're still an ant. Aren't you afraid that dog is going to get run over?"

The junkman peered out from behind his glasses at the dog. "I am. But he won't come to whistles or calls or commands and if you drag him onto the side, he'll be right back into the center of the road where anyone passing by has to go around him."

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