1

You are on vacation in Florida and beginning to wonder what happened to your friend who was supposed to arrive yesterday afternoon. You are living in Atlanta while your friend lives in Houston, so you decided to meet here. You got here two days ago and didn’t mind being alone that first day, but you are now feeling uncomfortable about the situation. Before this, you had never spent more than a weekend in Florida, even though it is not far from where your are living.

You were looking forward to coming down to this particular beach resort in the northwestern part of the state--the Peninsula as they call it. The whole state is a peninsula. You didn’t want to go to a spot where you would be trampled by the usual crush of tourists, so you came to this secluded and quiet place near Panama City. You also wanted to visit Panama City because it was mentioned in one of your favorite horror novels Ghost Story by Peter Straub. You are a big fan of horror movies and novels.

You didn’t feel like going north to see your folks in the middle of winter. They said they would miss you, and you feel guilty for not making the sacrifice to go back, but you really didn’t have your heart in it. Why be phony? You’ve been working very hard in the last few months and deserve a long, peaceful rest. These days it seems everybody is working more and more for less and less. Struggling on the road to your parents’ home with that northern cold and snow would not have been relaxing at all. You’ll be able to see the parents some other time--if you want to. You like the idea of going home to visit the family, but you usually wind up wanting to leave after only a few days. It never seems like what you want it to be. It soon gets boring and your parents always want to know so much about your personal life. When you go out, they always want to know where you are going. Then there’s your father. You’re afraid to see him, to look at him. You don’t know how you would handle seeing him after what everybody in your family has written about him lately. Besides, you never got along very well with him in the first place.

The sun went down more than an hour ago and the sky is now completely dark. You are reading this horror novel, The Quiet Hotel. You sit looking out from a second-story room window of the Ocean View Motel. Looking up from the book every so often adds to the fright effect. The room overlooks the beach, and there is a small peninsula on the right jutting into the Gulf of Mexico. A chill wind is blowing into the land, and it can be felt if you put your fingers on the window cracks. It buffets two small boats moored on the short dock to the left and has left the beach below totally devoid of human beings. You think about going to eat dinner at the restaurant downstairs, but you don’t feel like it. It would feel uncomfortable to dine alone. As you read, you have eaten four Ho Ho’s and have almost finished a bag of pecan shortbread cookies. You are starting to feel full and probably won’t need to go down to eat anything more. Besides you are feeling very drowsy, starting to nod a little.

You and your friend had carefully planned the time you would spend here, including the making of the motel reservations well in advance. It is surprising that your friend has not communicated with you in some way. Another strange circumstance is that when you made a call to your friend’s house, a recording announced that the number “has been disconnected or is no longer in service.” As far as you know, your friend had every intention of staying in the same apartment for the indefinite future. You called Information, but there was no new number listed. You start thinking about what different things might have happened and then decide to go take a walk on the beach while you toss it around in your mind. You think about getting in touch with your friend’s parents or relatives, but you don’t know either their address or their phone number.

There is little light on the beach except for that from the full moon hanging over the waters ahead. It casts a spear of silver light, which follows you as you walk along the water’s edge. Your shadow’s edges dart wildly along the wrinkled sand. There is no one in sight. You wore a jacket because it is cold and the wind pierces your regular clothing with a seeming vengeance. You now clearly admit that deciding to spend your vacation in this part of Florida at this time of the year was a miscalculation. You hadn’t even thought of the possibility that a part of Florida could be cold. Your impression was one of warm, sunny beaches everywhere.

As you look back on it, you started to have doubts about the trip soon after you left your apartment. It was nothing you could pinpoint since the trip down in the car was pleasant and uneventful. It was more of a feeling--an intuition or a premonition--that things were not going to go as planned, and you do believe in intuition. Of course, it has turned out that the plans have changed now that your friend still hasn’t shown up after almost two days, but you’re still not sure whether that means that things will necessarily be bad. You don’t want to be a pessimist although people have accused you of being one, and you’re not sure they were wrong. You have to think that if your friend never shows up it might still present a good opportunity for a great adventure.

You are generally shy and reserved, but lately you have been looking for new opportunities to show more independence and daring in meeting new people in new situations. The circumstances under which your friend has failed to arrive are not very reassuring, however, and you don’t like the idea of being alone in a totally new place. There are too many dangers these days.

Just now you see a long falling star over your right shoulder in the southwestern skies.

5

You paid attention to the astrological predictions this morning. You listened to Sidney Omarr on the radio. He didn’t make any startling predictions for your sign. The predictions seemed very middle-of-the-road, neither good nor bad. That kind of hedging seems par for those kinds of predictions. At a drugstore, you peeked at this year’s book for your astrological sign which goes into more detail. It wasn’t very clear to you either, but you do remember that it said that “you will make a trip, pass through some trying tests, but will rise above it all.” You wonder whether there might not be something true about it. You’ve seen some predictions come true.

You notice a bright light in the sky faraway to the southeast. You are sure it just appeared, or you know you would have noticed it before. It is bright white and getting brighter. You stop in your tracks to make sure it won’t escape your sight. It is like nothing you have ever seen before. It appears to be several hundred miles away, like over Cuba. It seems too high in the sky to be man-made. The light has now turned into a beautiful hue of orange. It is intense but not too bright to look at directly. In fact, it feels soothing to your eyes. It is not very large and is roughly in the shape of a large seashell sitting on its flat edge. Slowly the light dims and then finally goes out.

Immediately after, a forceful breeze that is neither cold nor warm sweeps through the beach. You hear movement in the water as well as a short, low howl from the direction of the small peninsula to the right. You see two fleeting shadows running along the edge of the beach, but they disappear from your sight. Now there is dead stillness. The shadows were here only an instant and seemingly disappeared in thin air. You aren’t even sure that it wasn’t purely something you imagined. One of the figures seemed to be wearing some sort of military helmet. For the moment, you don’t feel any fear because the figures were running away from you and seemingly oblivious to you. You look back at the place in the sky where the light appeared, but it is still dark without a trace of anything before. You aren’t sure what it was, except that it was not a flying saucer. It was more like a supernatural apparition.

For the first time, you realize how alone and defenseless you are. You are generally very cautious and are surprised that you ventured out here alone without a second thought. It was almost as if you were under some sort of spell. There is still no one in sight. No one coming to inflict harm, but at the same time, no one to yell to for help. The motel seems very far away now. It only has a few people in it, as can be seen by the very few rooms that are lit. It is not tourist season, and the few people who are staying are only passing by, probably on their way to Miami.

You are feeling more scared, but you are now frozen in your steps fearing that the slightest movement will cause you to be detected. Still, you know you must get back there. That is your only chance. So far it is still completely silent all over the beach except for the natural sound of the waves rolling onto the shore; you can’t know what might happen. The moon gives some visibility, but beyond a few yards, you can’t see a thing.

Finally you feel yourself unchained and your legs are beginning to move. First, the right leg and then the left, you feel yourself moving clumsily forward. As you regain the feeling in your legs, they feel stronger. You are able to move them easily, but it doesn’t seem like you’re getting anywhere. Your feet sink deep into the sand on each step, and it takes forever to pick them up each time. The wind has started again. You feel it hit cold on your ear lobes. It helps give you forward momentum, but you worry that it will interfere with hearing what might be behind you.

You don’t look back. It wouldn’t help. You’ve got to get to the motel as soon as possible and looking back will only waste time. You’re almost sure now that there is something back there, something connected with that orange glow and the other mysterious occurrences. What do they say is the significance of seeing a falling comet? Does it make a difference if it happens on a night when there is a full moon out? You are not superstitious, but at the moment, you would like to know what they say it means.

It seems you’ve been running for a long time, but the motel looks just as far away as when you started to run. You are starting to breath heavily and your legs feel like granite blocks as you keep trying to move them through the stubborn sand. At this snail’s pace, they’ll surely catch up with you at any moment. You’ve got to try harder; can’t give up. If you go a little faster, you just might make it in time. Who knows what they want from you? Who knows what they’ll do? You can hear yourself breathing harder and harder. Your ears and face are thoroughly chilled. Your legs are feeling tired, but you have to keep moving as fast as you can. There is no slowing down. For all you know, they are right behind you. That motel still seems so far away after all this running. You have hardly advanced. Will you ever get there alive?

No use crying for help. It’s you against them. This reminds you of some of those old movies you saw like It Came from Outer Space or Them! You have to go as fast as you can, but you realize you have to keep a close eye out and not fall, or you will be doomed. The lighted windows on the motel seem so small and remote. It hardly seems like a human habitation.

You are definitely closer to the motel building, but it still seems a long way off. So far you’ve gotten away. You don’t know whether the sand below your feet is actually more firm now, or whether you have simply gotten used to the feeling of running in the sand. Either way you seem to be running better. You’re hoping you can make it all the way. It would be your luck that they would snatch you right at the door.

When you approach the building, you think of looking back but quickly resist the temptation. You reach for the metal door to the back of the building and immediately press down with your thumb on the lock lever. It doesn’t give. You checked it when you went out, and it was unlocked. Had the motel manager locked it for the night while you were out? Would it help to pound on the door? Would anybody hear? Or if they heard, would they act? Did you have time to go around to the front door?

The door suddenly opens. No one is there, so it wasn’t opened by someone from the inside. It just finally opened on its own. You dash inside and close the door quickly. You stand with your back against the wall trying to catch your breath and enjoy a deep feeling of relief. You still don’t feel safe so you dart up the stairs to your room. You lock the room door behind you and feel your face perspiring now that you’re inside the warm building. You lie in your bed physically and mentally exhausted, not believing what has just happened. You run to the window to see if you can see anyone. You look hard into the outer darkness, but there is no one. Everything looks the same as it did before you left the room. It is a peaceful scene with no unusual lights in the sky.

You turn on the television and switch the channels around several times to try to find something you like. You finally settle for a channel, but after a while you realize you aren’t even paying attention. Instead you keep thinking about what happened, trying to reconstruct the events. As bizarre as it seems, you are sure it actually happened, and you are almost positive that someone was back there on the shore even if only watching. After a long time of thinking, you feel tired and start to nod.

You start feeling like you want to go to the bar downstairs. You don’t go to bars much, but right now you don’t want to be alone. In the bar there should be people, someone to talk to. Even the sight of other people would be reassuring. Yet you feel afraid to go down to the bar, not so much because you think you will be caught by the mysterious persons or beings or forces that you thought were chasing you but because you know you would feel uncomfortable walking in alone. Everyone would stare at you and wonder why you were alone. They would pity you for not having any friends to bring with you. Then what would you say to people there? You wouldn’t have anything to talk about. You would look weird.

You always did feel awkward around other people even as a small child. You were often worried of doing or saying the wrong thing. You would have horrible nightmares as a child. There were many nightmares in which there were monsters chasing you, but there were others in which people were afraid of you and tried to avoid you. The worst of these came the night you saw The Creature from the Black Lagoon, an old movie on television. Most kids who saw that movie had nightmares in which they were chased by the Creature, but in your dreams you were the Creature, and no one wanted anything to do with you.

You were trying to decide just the other day whether you had lived a happy childhood. You’ve usually thought that you had an unhappy childhood. You remember many times when you felt unhappy or confused. Sometimes you felt bad for several days. At the time, you used to think of yourself as feeling “melancholy” and now realize that it was depression. There were problems at home. Sometimes your mother and father would have bad arguments and not speak to each other for days. It was an unpleasant atmosphere because during these times things that needed to be done didn’t get done because it was necessary to get your parents to cooperate with each other.

10

You made several friends as a child, but the best friendships didn’t last long. The good friends usually moved away. Other friendships ended on account of squabbles that, looking back on it now, were petty. You’ve lost track of everyone you went to high school with. Sometimes you wish you could see some of your old school friends, but it is very hard to get in contact with any of them. You envy people that you know who have still kept up with their school friends. It was not until recently that you realized how unhappy you were in high school. You always felt outside of it all--another face in the crowd. Nobody paid any attention, nobody cared. You inwardly resented the ones in the limelight, like the Most Popular people, the cheerleaders, the football players. You couldn’t see why they rated so much attention.

In spite of your fear, you decide to try going to the bar downstairs. No matter how bad, it would feel worse to stay here alone. You know you’ll need something to keep you nerves calm, so you take some of the Valium you are carrying. Your doctor gave you a new prescription just before you left so it should hold out for some time.

It is true that you are high strung, but you are normally not this easily frightened. This is a special night. You take a shower, make sure your nails are clean, spray on some deodorant, and brush your teeth with a toothpaste guaranteed to give fresh breath. To make sure, you wash your mouth out with Lavoris.

It takes time to decide which clothes to wear. It’s hard to decide which pieces of clothing go with each other. Just as you are about to finish with your preparations, you start to have second thoughts about going down. You begin to visualize how it will be. It makes you start feeling very nervous again. What can you get out of it, if you go? It will only be pointless aggravation, and you might wind up feeling even worse afterward--uncomfortable, depressed. You might run into somebody obnoxious and stupid. The place might be empty, and you’ll have to talk to a bored bartender. You had thought about telling someone there what you saw tonight, but on second thought no one would believe you.

It might be better to just leave this strange place tomorrow. There is still not a word from your friend. The light on the telephone that would show that you had any messages is off. What are you going to do here alone? You have a definite feeling that there was something out there tonight, and it wants you in particular although you don’t have the slightest idea why. You had better get away as soon as possible. It might follow you, but it could be worse to remain.

Now you’re having third thoughts about going down to the bar. It could help calm you down just to be around some people. You decide to go. You leave all the lights turned on for when you come back. The hallway is very quiet. No sign of any other guests. You go down the stairs as quietly as possible. You don’t want to take the elevator because you’re more likely to see someone that way. Your footsteps can hardly be heard on the soft carpet. The only other noise that is heard is the noise from pipes in the building and the heating system. At the bottom of the stairs, it is a left turn to go to the bar. The desk clerk doesn’t see you, and you can’t see the desk clerk. There is no one else around. It is eerily deserted. The bar is about 200 feet down the hallway. Down here your footsteps sound louder. You look out the window as you pass and think you see some shadows moving on the beach. You don’t stop to investigate. You reach the door of the Gulf Moon Bar and pull to open it. It doesn’t move. You pull hard on it, but it still doesn’t give. You go to the window next to the door to look inside. All the usual advertising signs for beers are lit on walls, and there are lights above and behind the bar itself, but there is no one in there. What could have happened, you wonder? You feel a sudden emptiness in your stomach.

Then you notice the small sign attached on the window showing the hours of operation. They weren’t supposed to close until 12. You look at your watch and see it’s 12:20. The time got away fast. You must have spent hours watching television without even noticing. There is still no one in the hallway. You don’t want to meet anyone, so you hurry to get back to your room. You almost run up the stairs. You can hear your heart pounding fast. You get to the door, fumble with the keys that don’t want to work, but the door finally opens. You look around carefully to make sure no one has gotten into the room.

Perhaps it would be better to report what happened earlier to the local police and ask for their protection. You’re not sure. It could be much simpler that way, but they would probably just think you were a kook. You’ll sleep on it and make a definite decision tomorrow.

2

You wake up and lie in bed thinking for several minutes, but it doesn't take you long to decide you had better leave. This motel is definitely giving you the willies. It is nine in the morning. You pack your clothes quickly, which doesn't take much time since you didn't bring very much. You look out your window at the beach, but there is nothing different from the day before. There are dark clouds over the water that are moving toward the shore threateningly.

You walk downstairs with your suitcase, You walk as quietly as possible. The hallways are absolutely deserted. You don't hear a sound except for that of your own footsteps and a continuous hum that seems to come from the heating system in the lobby. There is no one but the desk clerk and a man sitting on a sofa reading the newspaper. You go up to the desk and greet the clerk.

He looks at your bill and points out, "You are leaving early. I hope your stay was satisfactory. Was everything O.K.?"

"Yes, it was fine," you answer. You don't feel like saying much. You still don't feel fully awake.

"Where are you going from here? Miami, maybe?" he inquires.

"Yes, Miami," you answer. It's a lie but you don't want anyone following you so it's just as good to deceive him. You don't want that man reading the newspaper to listen in on anything. You don't try to encourage any conversation with the desk clerk so you give him the shortest possible answers. You look back to see the man reading the newspaper and catch him staring intently at you. He quickly looks back into the paper as soon as he sees you looking at him, He is middle-aged and looks a little shady to you. You keep your eye on him as you leave the lobby, but he doesn't look up anymore. As you drive away from the motel, you keep looking back to see if the man follows you, but he never comes out.

You drive to a Dunkin' Donuts a mile down the highway to eat breakfast. You park the car in the back so that it will be harder for anyone deciding to follow you to see it. You don't want to eat much. Mainly you want some coffee to make sure you stay alert for today's traveling. You also eat some donuts--one cherry-filled, one lemon-filled, one chocolate cake, and one old-fashioned French. The only other customers are a middle-aged couple who seem to merely be passing through the area--probably on their way to Miami. They are both on the overweight side and seem relaxed and happy this morning. They don't seem to pay much attention to you.

You don't know which way you are going to travel, but you have definitely decided not to go back to your home. It's not very far away, but they might follow you if you go there directly. You're not sure who "they" are or if there is any "they," but you aren't taking any chances. In any case, you definitely think there was something that came on the land last night. If not any definite persons, then surely some form, some substance with a purpose--a probably not very good purpose. You've got to elude it and are going to take a roundabout way back. You're not sure what your exact destination is, but for now you are going to go west.

You finish your fourth cup of coffee, leave a quarter tip, and go out to the car to start the journey. It has started to sprinkle and the sky is cloudy for as far as you can see. The rain is not going to help your shiny 1979 Thunderbird look any better, but at least it recently had a polycoat put on it so it won't be so bad. You have a Thunderbird because you like the safety of a big car. Of course, you never wear a seat belt and that may cancel out the safety of a big car. It might even be safer to ride in a small car with a seat belt on. Your car is your home since you don't own a real home and don't expect to for many years. You think of your car as your castle except that it is not yet completely yours. You are making payments on it and still have almost two years to go.

You drive for two hours without anything happening out of the ordinary. You enjoy just driving and looking at the passing scenery. The highway goes right along the Gulf shore for about 100 miles, and it remains very cloudy all along. You have seen no one along the road except for the people in the other cars.

A little before reaching Pensacola, there is a lone hitchhiker by the side of the road. He is standing on top of the pavement and very close to the pathway of cars. He is wearing blue jeans, a worn, black parka with a fur lining around the collar, dirty hiking boots and a blue denim baseball cap. He sticks his thumb out a little menacingly. It looks like his fist is right in front of the windshield, but you realize it is only your imagination. He makes you feel afraid. It startled you to see him because you didn't notice him until he was very close. He keeps looking directly at you with an icy, mostly unemotional stare except for an air of disdain. After you pass him, you look back in the rear-view mirror. He remains frozen in the same position with his thumb sticking out even though there are no more cars coming. The only thing different is that he is now looking over his right shoulder and staring coldly at you.

15

You speed up and before long he is out of sight. It is a relief. The hitchhiker looked like the man who was in the lobby of the motel when you checked out this morning. On second thought, this man is younger and thinner. He is dressed much differently, different style. It couldn't be the same man. He couldn't have gotten there so quickly. You've been driving fast and didn't stop that long.

That motel was definitely on the strange side. You hardly saw anyone the whole time. There were only the desk clerks and one or two residents that you remember seeing. The last night you were there, when you took a walk out on the beach, there were few lights on in the rooms. As you went in and out, television sets could be heard in the rooms, but you never saw nor even heard any of the occupants. All that could be heard were those television sets on different channels. It seemed as if the cars parked outside were never moved during that whole time. Maybe it is just your imagination getting carried away now. Maybe that was just normal. Motels are lonely places.

In Alabama, you pass through the low, swampy land around Mobile. There aren't very many houses. Occasionally you see an old, gray wooden house that needs paint and looks deserted, but there is an old car in front giving a sign of human inhabitants. Once you see an old black man walking around slowly in his little field, bent over looking at the ground.

In Mississippi, you decide to turn north and go through Jackson. A sign tells you that you are passing through the Piney Woods. You like green forests so you are glad you decided to turn north instead of continuing west. You roll down the window a little to let in the smell of the fresh pine. After a while, you reach clear skies and the light of the sun makes the green of the forest look that much more luscious.

At Jackson, you turn west again. You aren't sure where you are going, but you are thinking of going to Dallas. You've never been there but have been wanting to see it for a long time. You started gaining an interest after the TV show Dallascame out. Then you heard there were a lot of rich and ambitious people there whom you think would be interesting.

Northern Louisiana is flat and dull and poor. In Monroe the sheriff's deputy riding around in his car looks like he could use some excitement. You see more bumper stickers of the kind you've been seeing on the road like Keep The Southland Great or The South's Gonna Do It Again. You saw one not far back that said The Only Gun Control We Need Is To Aim Straight And Steady.

Just on the other side of the Texas-Louisiana border near Marshall, you stop to gas up at one of those convenience gas stations that sell motor oil, carburetor cleaner, beer, soda, packages of 100% natural popcorn, peanuts, almonds, fried donuts, honeybuns, fruit pies, cup cakes, chocolate wafers, spearmint gum, Bubble Yum, bits of gum, Tic Tac, camera film, teddy bears. The kid who is the attendant looks barely 18. He is lanky with sandy blonde hair. The giggly girl sitting next to him is obviously his girl friend. They both act friendly and polite. She looks even younger than he. They make a cute couple, and it wouldn't be surprising if she got knocked up soon--if she isn't already--knowing the way it is these days.

Before very long, the light of the short winter day starts to fade. The headlights of the oncoming cars stand out against the vanishing blue sky over the western horizon. Below the freeway are peaceful towns like Kilgore that can barely be seen because they are away from the road. This is the Texas that the inhabitants are always boasting about. It's not bad so far but still not especially impressive.

As night sets in, more trucks begin to appear on the road. Supposedly most of them like to travel at night because there is less traffic on the road. Some of them like to travel fast and pass you up no matter how fast you are going. They don't have to worry about the cops. With those CB's going, they can put the pedal to the metal and forget about it. "Breaker, breaker, 1 . . . . 9er."

You remember the CB craze in the mid-70's. Your dad put a CB in the car and you could hear those truckers talking, sometimes for hours. Most of them had Southern drawls, either real or affected. You can still hear the low-humming, sometimes spooky sound of the air over the CB. The CB craze started all those car movies and TV shows like the ones with Burt Reynolds. Cars and trucks speeding around the country with cop cars chasing them--and all in the middle of an energy crisis.

Soon after the CB was installed in the car, it got stolen. Your dad installed another one but that one got ripped off, too. Then there were several antennas that got taken and sometimes were literally ripped off by punks. Those kinds of things happened all the time to CB owners. That was what probably killed the fad so quickly.

As you come into Dallas, you find a station KRLD that keeps referring to the area as the Metroplex. The announcer sounds staid and monotone. He is saying there are heavy thundershowers in the area. You've heard this station at night back home and it always sounds the same, same announcer, same somnolent voice.

You're worried about missing the correct exit and getting hung up on the wheel of highways going through the city or maybe even getting lost in the middle of the city on some dark little street. There are green and white signs all over, but it is confusing. There are several lanes on the freeway, which makes it very wide. You're hanging to the right, but for all you know the exit you want will be a left exit. It happens that way.

Then you aren't even sure which is the correct sign to follow. You know you want to go north, which means you should probably be looking for any sign saying the road goes to Oklahoma. City, but then for all you know the right highway to Oklahoma City won't even say Oklahoma City. It'll say some other town you've never even heard of and you'll miss it.

You decided to go north because there isn't much west of Dallas. It's pretty much the armpit of the country until you get to L.A. and even then you aren't sure. It's a Friday night, and there are plenty of cars on the road.

Suddenly it starts pouring. You're into one of those thunderstorms that was being announced. Long lightning bolts flash through the rain, and it is coming down so thick that the windshield wipers can barely do the job even at high speed. It is going to make it that much harder to see the signs, and just as you think that, you come into an area on the freeway where the lights are all out--even the lights for the highway signs above. You'll never get off this contorted asphalt ring. The signs can be seen with the lights of the cars but only after you get up very close. Then there is the thick sheet of rain that keeps coming down, and you have to be extra careful in making lane changes. You can't make them too quickly, or the other cars might not see you even if you give the proper signal. That's how bad it is. Why do things always have to happen like this--and to you?

You keep going as slowly as you can so you can see the signs. You are sure there are going to be some traffic accidents caused by this downpour, and you keep looking ahead to try to avoid getting in one. Then there are the cars that don't even slow down a little bit because of the conditions. They speed right by and splash water on everybody else. You keep going like this for what seems like a long time---squinting closely at the highway signs and driving as defensively as possible. You wonder where you are going to end up after this is all done.

A car speeds by and splashes water all over you. You can't see a thing for several seconds because of the water. You try hard to find the dividing white lane stripes to make sure you stay in your lane, but you can't locate them for a long time. You keep looking in the rear-view mirror to make sure no one comes and hits you from behind. It seems that last car came very close to hitting you.

20

Then, almost before you have time to see the changes, it has stopped raining and the freeway lights are working fine. They even seem too bright. Not long after that a sign appears for Oklahoma City, and you easily take the right-hand exit for it. It all happens so quickly that the rainstorm seems like a dream now. You are calmly and surely heading on the right track. There seems to be much less traffic and the freeway is almost dry.

You are almost out of Dallas and realize you didn't have time to absorb it because of the storm and the problems. It is night time and you wouldn't have been able to see Dallas very well anyway. It would have still been something. So this is the home of J.R. that selfish, impudent villain of the most popular nighttime soap opera ever on TV. Probably the most exciting thing in the summer of '80 was people asking, "Who shot J. R.?" Everybody said they hated J .R. but did they really? If they hated him so much why did they keep on watching. Maybe it was more like envy. Envy of his power and his ruthlessness in using it.

Once out of the Metroplex, there is not much left to see. It is mostly the impenetrable darkness to the sides of the road so you listen more closely to the radio.

"From the nation's capital, it's The Larry King Show," the announcer states. You've heard this show at home before but not for very long at a time. You usually aren't interested enough. It is a nationwide talk show that comes on late at night.

"Jefferson City, Missouri," host Larry King signals in this way for the next caller to go ahead.

CALLER Am I on?

KING Yes, go ahead.

CALLER (the voice of an older man who sounds both alarmed and determined) I definitely believe that the Russians are on the move and are out to get us. They and the Cubans and the Vietnamese are working together taking over one country after another and are coming to destroy us, and if we don't watch out, it will happen before we know it. They are right in our backyard in Central America and moving north according to plan. Mexico is already full of Communists so it won't take long for them to give in.

I agree with the President for getting tough with the Communists. And we also need for people to stop criticizing so much and get more patriotic.

GUE5T (He is a young, articulate man who sounds like he could be a Congressman from a Northeastern state or a former employee in the State Department. He has just written a book on U.S. foreign policy.) First of all, I don't agree that things are as alarming or disastrous as you make them out to be. This idea of a unified Communist front has been proven to be incorrect during the last 10 years, and there is no sign that there will be any great unity in the near future. As you know, China and Russia have been enemies for some time now, and China and Vietnam even went to war in 1979. More recently, there are indications that Vietnam wants to limit its ties with Russia, and of course Poland has definitely showed an unusual defiance. But even if . . . .

You get off the freeway near a town just inside the Oklahoma border called Marietta. You aren't going to stay long. You just need to get some cigarettes at a convenience store. It doesn't take long to find one. You walk in and the cashier quickly comes up from the back where it looks like he was stocking shelves. He gives a stiff and barely audible hello. He looks fairly young, about 25, slender, good-looking, definitely nervous and distrustful.

Can't blame him for being nervous. It is 2 A.M. and they hold-up places like these all the time. Kill the cashiers for the slightest flinch.

You wouldn't work in one of these places if you were starving. He probably has no choice. He stands near the cash register and fiddles with the beef jerky packages and Lifesavers around it. He is just trying to look busy. The real reason he is up there is that he is under orders to stand by the register whenever a customer enters the store. He takes an occasional glance at you with his fearful face. It looks like he is worried about more than the possibility you might shoplift. He probably wonders if you are the point person in a hold-up, serving for the bandits who will storm the place as soon as you give them the signal.

It always takes you a while to decide what you want to eat so you keep looking back and forth. Finally you decide on a ham and cheese on white in a plastic container, a bag of sour cream and onion potato chips, two packs of Ding Dongs, a pack of pink Sno-Balls, and a 16 oz. Coke. At the counter you get two packs of cigarettes and a pack of Certs, which you probably won't need but want to take along to be sure. You then notice a stack of newspapers and remember that you wanted to buy this afternoon's paper. You add that to the other things you are buying. You want to see if any story has come out on the vision you saw over the ocean last night.

The cashier bags the items and hands them to you with a smile. "You have a good night now," he says.

"Thank you. You, too," you tell him.

He seems more relaxed than at first. You go to your car but are determined to look through the paper for any stories on the vision. Sitting in the car, you carefully peruse through every column of the newspaper. The cashier notices you after a long time. He tries to go on with his work but is obviously worried again. He keeps coming back to peek and check if you are there. You are trying to hurry to get through the paper so you can leave and not worry him so, but at the same time you want to be sure not to miss anything.

You hadn't thought very much about the events of last night with the excitement of the trip, but now you are starting to feel a renewed fear. You are sure everything you saw was real and yet here you can't find a report on it in the newspaper. You've heard nothing on the radio all day. Could it be that it appeared only to you? Are you free from it now?

You look through the paper a second time to be very sure that you didn't miss anything. The cashier looks again with his haunted gaze. You have eaten the sandwich and the entire medium-sized bag of potato chips in the time you've been sitting here.

After finding nothing in the newspaper after the second review, you are on your way. You feel tired but are not yet sleepy. You'll keep driving for as long as you can. You eat the rest of your food as you drive and take down some more Valium with your Coke--sort of like rum and Coke.

You are now wondering what to do at Oklahoma City--whether to keep going north or go east on Interstate 40. You know you have to zigzag on the route. Keep them confused. Maybe you'll take some empty side roads later to really lose them.

There is a new sound under the hood that you had not heard before. It is a high-pitched sound. It is not loud but it is continuous. You are sure it was not there before. You hope it isn't important but if it is, you worry it would be a big headache out here in the middle of the night in the middle of empty Oklahoma land.

There are some long empty spaces out there to the side of the road, long stretches with little sign of human life. There aren't many service stations, and of those, they are all closed. It looks like there are trees out there, but it is too dark to tell for sure. You can only see some twisted figures against the dim sky. Who knows what could be lurking among them. You would hate to find out if the car broke down. You don't know much about cars and wouldn't be able to fix it. There is no telling who might stop if they saw you stranded. It is cold out there. They said on the radio there was a cold front coming through tonight. Your hands and feet would get very cold. They always do.

Cars exasperate you sometimes. You never know when they are going to break down. You are always at the mercy of their whim. You take good care of your car, take it in right away at the first sign of something wrong. Still it sometimes goes wrong without any warning. There's no use worrying very much about that noise now. You can't do anything about it until the next service station, but you know it will still be bothering you until then--no matter how much you try to forget it.,

You change the channel on the radio. You don't want to hear all that boring talk about foreign policy. All those experts sound like they know exactly what they are talking about, but you can't figure out which side is right.

25

You find a rock station. It has a show on called Nostalgia Time. "My Boyfriend's Back" by The Chiffons from 1963 is playing:

My boyfriend's back,

And you're gonna be in trouble.

Doo ron doo ron

My boyfriend's back.

. . . . . . . .

My boyfriend's back

He's gonna save my reputation.

. . . . . . . .

You've enjoyed this recent fad on the radio of playing oldies from the '50's and early '60's. It reminds you of times when America was strong and everybody was happy. That music has come back because people want to think about the good old days. You generally agree that times were really great back then, but lately you've been wondering whether it being so good might be exaggerated what with things like the atomic bomb, the Russians, Sputnik, racial problems, the killing of Kennedy.

Oklahoma City is sleeping under its blanket of signs and streetlights, buildings, and bridges. It isn't very hard to find the freeway going east from here. You don't think over the decision to go east very carefully, making it almost at the last minute as the turnoff appears.

You are finally starting to feel tired and sleepy. You hadn't even thought of stopping to sleep before. You must have been thinking you could go on driving for days without stopping to rest. It would be possible to drive onto some side road and park the car, but you wouldn't feel safe. It wouldn't even be safe parking on one of those rest stops by the freeway. It's worse being alone, and there is no telling what some thief or some maniac might do--come along and chop you into little pieces with his shiny axe. There are usually other cars at those rest stops, but they might not see you being attacked.

Then there are those pay campgrounds. You would feel safer in one of those so you keep your eye out for one. You spot one just before reaching Shawnee. They only charge you $4 because it is winter. There are other vehicles here so you feel safe. Also you figure the place is guarded by the campground operators. The place is full of Winnebagos and other recreational vehicles with their built-in color TV's and microwave ovens. People out on the hard road roughing it. At 4 in the morning, there isn't much space left for you so you have to go park on the south edge of the grounds. It feels very isolated from everyone else, but you don't have much choice. It is still probably better than sleeping out on the highway.

You move in very quietly so you won't wake anyone up. There isn't any sign of movement around since all the lights are out. Before turning in you have to go to the bathroom. You wish you had brought a flashlight to carry with you to see where you are walking. You walk to the restrooms with only the light from the moon in the sky and even that is hidden behind a very thin, hazy layer of white clouds.

The restrooms are not very well heated. Luckily there is toilet paper left but not much. You'll have to be efficient in using it. You sit down but come up immediately like an exploded spring. You sat down hard not remembering that the toilet seat would be very cold. You sit down again, but this time very slowly and very gradually. You do it by sitting down for a split second, then rising quickly again off the seat for a couple of seconds. You repeat this several times until your skin becomes used to the coldness of the seat.

The sound of a dripping faucet is very loud against the silence of the night. It sounds a little ominous and you are reminded that you didn't even look around when you came in. Somebody could be lurking in a corner. You'll have to be more careful from now on. There are other strange noises in the restroom. You can't figure them out. Maybe it's a ventilator. Then there's maybe a water heater. As you leave, you look as far as possible under the stalls to see if you can see anyone.

Going back to the car, you are startled by a noise--a metallic sound. You stop dead in your tracks and look intently in the direction from which the sound came. You see no movement. You look behind you right away to guard that there is no one creeping up from behind. There is no one. After looking back in the direction from which the noise came, you notice a pan underneath an RV. It looks like a pan of water that someone put out for their dog. You figure now that probably some wild animal like a field mouse was trying to get into it.

You stay in the front seat of the car to try to go to sleep because it would be too much trouble to remove the things you are carrying in the back. It is not going to be very comfortable so you won't be able to sleep very long, but two or three hours should do. You, of course, make sure the doors are locked. You would like to take your clothes off to sleep, but it would be too cold. Besides you need to be ready in case anything sudden happens. It's a shame to sleep in your new jeans. You figure you should take better care of them since they cost $53. It takes time to get to sleep since you have to move and toss around looking for a comfortable position.

After sleeping about an hour, you are awoken by long, human-sounding howls. They sound sad and distraught. The howls jangle your mind into a panicked and painful wakefulness. For a long time, you lie in your place frozen in fear not knowing what to do. The howls begin to increase in number and there is a greater variety of howls, moans, chants, and cries. The number of voices rises steadily until there seem to be as many as one hundred voices in a mad, disjointed chorus. You wonder if the voices have gotten louder because they are coming near or simply because they have built up in volume. You have to find out. You are going to have to overcome your frozen fear and rear up to look out the window. You tell yourself to get up, to start moving a little by little, but you just lie there. Your brain cannot seem to move your body no matter how much it commands. You just lie there without moving a joint, but you have to get up. You have to see what the danger out there is. The sound grows louder and more frenzied. Still for a long time you can't move. This reminds you of the movie The Howling.

You finally move your left arm in a quick jerk to overcome the inertia. Gradually you are able to move the rest of your body, but it takes some time. You peek over the window sill and look southward where the howling is coming from. You don't raise your head up any more than necessary to avoid being seen. You peer intently into the concealing darkness ahead. The howls seem to be coming from a clump of trees about 300 feet ahead--the bare, jagged branches silhouetted against the thinly clouded sky with the moon casting its mystic light behind. The howls do not seem to be coming from the forest itself but from somewhere directly above it. You can see nothing in the space above where the sound is coming from, no matter how hard you gaze. The howls and cries are disturbing your nerves. You are going to need a lot of Valium to calm down.

Without any warning, the howling stops completely. There is an impenetrable silence. You wait for a long time for the howling to resume but nothing happens. For the first time, it occurs to you to look around to the other vehicles to see the reaction of the other people, but everything looks exactly the same as when you came back from the restroom to the car. Nothing is moving and there are no lights to be seen. You wait to see if perhaps no one has moved because they are just as scared as you. Everything remains the same. Apparently no one else heard it, or you're sure they would have reacted.

How can it be that only you heard it? It is hard to believe. It couldn't have been a dream. You feel you have been wide awake for a long time. It is possible that only you could hear it since your car was closer to the sound than any other. Maybe the other people nearby happen to be very hard sleepers. Then again maybe it was only a large pack of coyotes. You're just too nervous.

You swallow some Valium and lie awake a long time. The sun comes out before you fall asleep again.

30

3

Two men bring in a third man struggling. One of the two men is pointing a gun in the captive man's back while the other one has him by an arm and is dragging him forcefully. They have just entered the double doors of a large house and are coming into the dining room. Through the front door, a beach can be seen at a distance of approximately 1000 feet. The area appears to be the coast of Eastern Florida. It is the middle of the afternoon. The house is expensively decorated with the latest in modern furniture including a metal and glass coffee table and a digital video disc player. The two men place their captive at the dining room table. The captive is cleanly dressed in a sweat shirt, Levi blue jeans, and athletic shoes.

The captive is angry and arguing with the other two men. They don't answer. The two captors are concealing their identity with large head masks that they are wearing. The first captor is wearing a massive and grotesque black helmet exactly like the one worn by Darth Vader in Star Wars. He wears a black shirt and black pants. He now addresses himself to the captive. He speaks English with a thick accent. It is hard to tell what his nationality is from the accent, but it appears to be of European or Near Eastern origin. The man with the gun wears a large shark's head that looks very real and ominous with its shiny eyes and threatening teeth in open jaws. He walks with a very bad limp in his right leg and half crouches to his right.

FIRST CAPTOR I understand, sir, that you have invested heavily in gold, ivory, and other exotic items. You like to spend much of your time looking for good investments.

CAPTIVE You've heard right and there's nothing wrong with that. This is still a capitalist system.

FIRST CAPTOR We'll have to look around your house later on to see what benefits you've gotten from your dealings.

(The first captor goes to a nearby bookshelf and for the first time it becomes apparent that his left arm is missing completely. He takes a book entitled Looking Out for Yourself. He throws the book on the table in front of the captive.) Why did you write a book like this? Don't you think there are better things to write about than something that only encourages the cult of selfishness that has been getting so big in the last several years?

CAPTIVE I think the success of the book only proved that was the kind of message people wanted to hear. I'm glad and I'm proud I wrote that book.

FIRST CAPTOR The success of the book only shows the confusion of so many people who think that the only way to survive is to be selfish instead of looking for ways to improve the social atmosphere for everyone. Then there's this book. (He throws another book on the table entitled Winning With Whatever It Takes. In this one the reader is told to use intimidation to impress his adversary, particularly a business competitor. This is done through having the correct posture or image like through owning a Lear jet or having several secretaries.) And I noticed you mentioned you were an admirer of Ayn Rand.

CAPTIVE That's right. I think she has had some very good things to say.

FIRST CAPTOR I think a better title for your book could have been Winning Through Phoniness. We have thought about breaking your fingers so that you cannot write any of this kind of trash for at least some time to come.

The first captor (Darth Vader) then goes to a bag he brought along, takes out a scissors, and puts them on a table. Then both of the captors move to the sides of the captive. The second captor points his gun at the back of the captive's head while the first captor sits on his right arm, takes the right hand, holds it down on the table, and takes the fingers. The writer is extremely frightened and screaming. It clearly looks that he is going to get his fingers broken. Then the first captor reaches for the scissors and starts to cut the man's hair all around his head as much as he can. The captors have a good laugh.

4

You wake up in a daze. You aren't sure whether you were asleep or whether it was a hallucination. Just the same, it has left you in a state of shock. It seemed so real. You could have sworn you were right there in the room with all three of those men. Your mind feels strange.

It was not a normal kind of dream, and you can't figure out why you had it. You yourself weren't in it like all dreams you ever remember having, and there was no one you knew in it. It had nothing to do with anything that was on your mind or were familiar with like most dreams. You remember that book that was mentioned, Looking Out For Yourself, was a bestseller, but you never read it or knew what it was about.

You know you won't be able to sleep anymore. The sun is much higher, but it hasn't moved that much since you fell asleep. You must have slept no more than an hour. You sit up and notice that some of the cars and RV's have left; others are preparing to. There is nothing unusual. Still no sign that anyone else heard the howling last night. You get into the driver's seat and prepare to leave. You don't want to stay here any longer than necessary. It has been a bad night and you don't feel very rested. Your neck hurts from sleeping in such a cramped position.

As you drive off, you try to figure out what it all meant. The dream or hallucination you will probably never figure out, but you are sure there were Indians howling in those woods. There are many Indians in Oklahoma, but the map didn't show any reservation in the vicinity from which those howls came. Maybe it was a pack of lost Indians wandering about. Or could it have been ghosts of Indians returning to harass modern people? But why did they just bother you?

Maybe their purpose wasn't to harass. It could be a way to let out misery. The cries did sound very painful. You remember now reading that there hadn't always been that many Indians in Oklahoma. Many came when they were forced to move out of their lands and give them up to whites in southern states like Georgia, Alabama, and Tennessee. The United States Government designated an area for them called Indian Territory, which later became part of Oklahoma. The journey westward was sad and tragic, and the Cherokee labeled it the Trail of Tears. It is already late morning. You probably won't be able to travel as far today as yesterday, but that's all right. You want to slow down a little for the next couple of days. You've got to vary your pace to keep them off your trail.

35

The radio is playing a record that was big a short time back. It is a medley of Beatle songs. Everybody got into old Beatle songs so much that it made it seem as if the Beatles were the only thing going in the mid-'60's. It was probably because the Beatles made it seem like a very idyllic time. The Beatles were definitely good, but thinking on it now, you remember there were some pretty sappy lyrics in their early songs.

On the road you notice an unusual number of customized vans going your way. They must be heading for a show or convention. They all look very shiny and well taken care of with all kinds of accessories like 4-wheel drive, tilt steering wheel, 5" lift kit, turbine wheels, 15X38 munster mudders. Many of the vans have very pretty paintings on the sides, mostly desertscapes and seascapes. It takes quite a bit of money to fix some of these vans up. You've heard of people spending $40,000 in buying and fixing up these vans. Come to think of it, most of the cars on the road are shiny and relatively new. Even when times are supposedly bad--in an economic sense--people usually seem to have enough money to keep their cars looking good.

You get hungry again and stop at a McDonald's for a hamburger. Your cash is running low, and you'll have to rely completely on your credit cards before very long. Before you step out of the car, you comb your hair and look at yourself in the rear-view mirror. You try to look the best you can. You hate to look unkempt in public even if it isn't an especially important place. You never know who might see you. Besides you don't want people talking about you.

After your hamburger, you stop at a 7-11 to take some food to eat later so you won't have to stop. You buy two baloney sandwiches, a large bag of Fritos, a box of Ritz crackers, two packs of chocolate cupcakes with the lace of white icing across the middle, a cherry pie, a lemon pie, three packs of Ho-Ho's, and a large Coke.

You also make a phone call back to the motel in Panama City. The pay phone is outside the store, and your hands get very cold as you have to talk and wait for the operator to dial the number. You are calling to find out if your friend ever got to the motel. The desk clerk says there is no record of anyone signing in by that name. "Have you had any phone calls from that person asking for me? My name is . . . ." You hope the desk clerk will remember any calls coming in for you.

"No, there have been no calls at all from that person," answers the clerk.

"Have there been any other calls for me?"

"No," the clerk replies, "There have been no calls at all for you."

"Do you keep a record of calls you receive?"

"Yes, we keep the record for 48 hours."

"Thank you."

"Thank you."

You realize this means your friend will not get to Panama City. It has been too long. You wonder what could have happened. You get back into your car quickly and decide to get going. You've been here long enough and could be detected.

You keep driving all afternoon and eat the food you bought. You are eating out of nervousness. You start feeling very worried that you will be caught at any time. You think they might be watching you now. They are probably right on your trail although you couldn't pinpoint which car it is that is following.

You haven't noticed any suspicious cars. It should be easy enough to stay away from them, but knowing you, you'll probably make some stupid mistake and land right in their lap. You never were very good in tough situations. You never really did stand out in anything. You were always just average or maybe slightly above but not much. At times you thought you would never finish college, but somehow you did.

As a kid you were never very good in sports. The other kids would get a big laugh at the mistakes you made. In baseball you always struck out a lot. That didn't matter very much because you were never that fond of baseball.

Tennis was a different story. You definitely wanted to excel in tennis, but you never could learn to hit the ball very straight, either with the forehand or the backhand. Later you discovered that because your eyes were very imbalanced in their depth perception, you couldn't see the ball well enough at all times to hit it well. That hurt your self-esteem deeply, and it took you a long time to accept that shortcoming. You denied its reality for years.

At dusk the fading daylight accentuates the bare, jagged trees against a cold, graying sky. You pass a junked-car yard with piles of old cars--the dying sunlight throwing a copper-brown color on the rusted ones. The useless cars look grotesque and sad in their helpless piles--a car cemetery--used up and thrown out to rot.

You see a truck-stop restaurant up the road and decide to get your supper there for the night. The place is crowded with truckers and other travelers preparing for a night's drive. There are hardly any seats left but you manage to find one at the counter. The truckers look at you differently since you are obviously out of place. You order a bowl of chili beans, a slice of apple pie, and a Coke. The waitresses are rushing back and forth barely keeping up. As usual there aren't enough employees to do the work right.

You can catch traces of conversation all around. Most of them are talking about how hard they've been working or about sports.

"Yes, sirree, I drove 30 hours straight that trip," comments one truck driver. "I wasn't about to be stopping and wasting time. I wanted to be home at least by Christmas day. But I couldn't 've done it without those good ole white pills."

"Yea," agrees another trucker. "I've pulled long hauls like that lots o' times. All you gotta remember is to fake that log in case the damn inspectors check you out."

"I don't worry about that," answers the first one. "They never inspect, and if they do, they don't do much."

"That's true," agrees the second.

Another conversation:

FIRST TRUCK DRIVER That baseball strike was just ridiculous. I couldn't find anything to do at home for a while. Those ballplayers want too much. They're too greedy. You would a never heard of that kind of thing in the old days.

SECOND TRUCK DRIVER Don't blame it all on the ballplayers. I think those damn owners are more to blame than anyone else.

After you finish the chili bowl, the waitress picks it up to leave you more space. "Going very far?" she asks.

"No, no," you answer a little startled that she took the time to say anything at all.

"Where you headed?" she asks.

"Uh, Nashville," you reply.

"You don't have very far to go then," she points out as she moves on.

Nashville was the first thing that came to your mind since it isn't, very far ahead, but you realize now that you don't have much of an idea. You're just going somewhere fast. You should decide, but for sure you aren't going to stop at anyplace near. You feel you should keep going for some time yet.

Not long after getting on the highway again, strange noises come from under the hood. You hadn't heard anything unusual all day, but now that it has turned dark, it is sounding strange again. Why does it have to wait until dark? Wait Until Dark, the movie. Or maybe you don't notice those sounds until after dark. You don't worry as much during the day. The sound from last night is there, but new sounds can also be heard. Are they important? Hopefully the car won't break down tonight. Then again those are probably only noises that happen after a long drive--nothing to worry about. It would still be a good idea to take the car to a mechanic tomorrow to have him take a look at it. It would take a lot of time, though. Just waiting your turn would probably take half the day, and if it's a big problem, there is no telling how much longer it will take--days, maybe.

40

You are feeling very tired. A good night's sleep would help a lot, but you are afraid to stay at a motel again. You haven't felt rested in months. This vacation was supposed to be invigorating. The fall seemed like it would never end. There was a lot of tension and pressure at work. The crises never seemed to end; it was one after another. Then the pay is low considering all the responsibilities involved. Some of the employees have even been talking about a strike.

It is now close enough to Memphis that the radio is picking up stations. There is a loud, frantic-sounding disc jockey on one station who is screaming away about a contest. He keeps giving the same message at almost every commercial break, "Remember our KHFO Million Dollar Giveaway where you can get rich! We are giving thousands and thousands of dollars away everyday, and you can win big prizes just like many of our happy winners in the past few weeks. Just pick up your magic KHFO money card at any of the Good Guys convenience stores or at any Groovy Sounds record store and be listening for your number to be called. When you hear your number called, you'll have 93 seconds to call in and be a winner of prizes as high as $1000 cash. Keep listening and keep playing in the KHFO Million Dollar Giveaway and you'll have a chance to get rich."

It has already turned dark, Too tired to continue driving, you get off the freeway to look for a good, quiet side road on which to park for the night. It isn't too safe to do, but it is preferable to staying in a motel. It is completely dark now. You make turns on several roads until you find a secluded old road that looks like it will have no one on it all night. After about a quarter mile, it even turns into a narrow, dirt road. There are many trees surrounding the road, but there is a clearing coming up ahead. You figure nobody could ever find you back here.

Closer to the clearing, there is an intense, acrid stench that permeates the air and becomes stronger by the minute. You slow to 10 MPH to make sure you don't drive into anything dangerous. Out of the night, four figures quickly appear in front of you. They are on foot and wear heavy wool or leather jackets and cowboy hats or baseball caps. Each has a large flashlight in hand and two of them wave at you furiously to move to the side of the road. They are running toward the car. The first one to get to the car bangs the fender and then the driver's front window with his fist and yells, "Stop that car right now and turn the lights out!" You pull over quickly, but the man keeps yelling frantically, "Turn the lights out! Turn the lights out!"

A second man who is carrying a rifle yells, "Shut the damn lights off." They both sound angry and surprised. Immediately the first man opens your door demanding, "How the hell you get in here? Get out of that car." You don't waste any time getting out as the first man grabs you by the shoulder very firmly. You wonder if he is now going to hit you, but instead he merely pulls you forward and leads you to walk along a path leading away from the road. The other man who was yelling also comes along, but the other two men walk back in the direction from which they came.

"Did you drive around that gate back there or what?" the first man asks you.

"No, I came straight on the road. I saw a large wooden gate, but it was wide open so I kept going. I wouldn't have come in if it had been closed," you speak in a polite, cooperative tone.

The second man talks in a startled tone, "Goddamn, somebody fucked up and didn't lock that gate like they were supposed to."

"Yea," says the first one, "and we could all be in a world of shit if they don't watch it." As he talks he takes a walkie-talkie from his belt and makes a call, "Hello, Mel, this is Dave." After Mel comes on the other side, "Hey, that front gate is open. Somebody drove right in. We got the intruder here, but you better have somebody close that gate right away. I don't know what the boss is gonna say about this. I don't expect he'll be none too happy, but let's hope he doesn't get too pissed and fire somebody."

"O.K., Dave, thanks," Mel answers. All of you continue to walk on the pathway in the middle of the woods. "I'll get on that right away. It must have happened when that last tank truck left. He went out real late and we forgot about it. You know we're used to closing that gate a lot earlier."

"O.K., Mel. I'll explain that to Mr. Mix. I figure he'll understand." The smell in the air is still very strong and your eyes start to water a little. You rub them and the second man notices, "That stuff is pretty bad. The other night a guy got real sick--headache and dizziness-and had to go home. Most people get used to it, though."

You arrive at a small wooden building and go in. There is a recreation room with a ping-pong table and a dartboard on the wall. They lead you to an office with a heavy-set man about 45 behind the desk with brown hair and a calm look. There are two rifles mounted on the right wall. As he notices you, his calm air starts to fade away. "Who is this?"

"Got in through the gate a few minutes ago, but we stopped the car in time if you know what I mean," answers the first man.

"Sit down," the man behind the desk orders you in a strong voice. "Why the hell was the damn gate left open and unguarded?" he demands from the men. He definitely sounds angry now. The two men give him the explanation. "That's no excuse. Somebody should have been standing guard the whole time. They know damn well how important it is to make sure absolutely nobody comes in."

"Yes, sir," answers the first man, "but you know they've got to watch all that back area and they have to watch the dredging in that one hole. Everybody's been very busy."

"That, might be," answers the boss, "but they've got to be more careful. I'm gonna have to have a talk with Mel about this."

"Now, you realize we could charge you for trespassing," he now addresses you, "and have you put in jail. No one is supposed to be in this area. l'm sure you saw the signs back even before you got to the gate. They clearly read No Trespassing."

"I'm sorry but I didn't see them. I think I was too intent looking at the road," you lie to him. You saw the signs but figured they weren't important. Besides you weren't planning to go in very far. The boss looks very stern, and you wonder just how far he would go. Would he actually send you to jail?

He continues. "We could do other things. We could also hold you here if that's what we wanted to do, but I hope we won't have to do that. You look like an intelligent individual that wants to stay out of trouble. Where are you headed?"

"I'm headed toward Nashville, but, oh, I'm eventually going to Washington to see a friend."

"Eventually?" he queries. "That doesn't sound too definite. When are you getting there?"

"In a couple of days. You see, I'm not in a big hurry. I'm on vacation and just traveling around."

"So what's the big idea of getting out on this lonely road in the middle of nowhere?

"I just wanted to find a place to sleep where it was nice and quiet. I . . . . "

"What's wrong with a motel?" he asks right away.

"I just wanted a different place to sleep in for a change, and to save some money," you tell him without explaining all the circumstances. The man sounds very serious and a little hostile. Things could get bad but how bad? It seems very important for them to hide something. It's going to be very important to make them think you have no interest in what they are doing.

"How long are you going to stay in Washington, D.C.?"

"Three or four days, then I'll probably go back home from there."

"And that's all you're going to do in Washington? Just visit a friend? You don't know anybody else?" he continues to interrogate.

"No, I only know that friend."

"Do you work for the government?"

"No, sir."

"Who do you work for?" You tell him and he goes on to ask questions about where you live, how long you've lived there, where your parents live, what are your political affiliations, what your political beliefs are. You answer truthfully.

45

"Have you ever voted?" he asks.

"No. It doesn't make any difference. They're all a bunch of crooks."

"What do you think of environmentalists?"

"They've gone too far. They worry too much about health and safety, but people have to take risks."

"Now I'm gonna let the boys here take you back out to the gate and get you on your way. I think the best thing for you to do is to go in a little closer into Memphis and check into a motel. A motel can't be that bad."

"No, sir. I'll do that."

"Now, the boys here and me know you didn't see anything out here but a dirt road and a bunch o' trees. Right?"

"Right."

"You didn't even see any people out here. Not a soul. Right? We don't want any trouble and you don't want any trouble. Do you have any identification on you?"

"Yes, sir." You fumble around for your wallet wondering why he didn't ask for it before. He looks through it carefully and writes down some things. All this time the two men who brought you in have stood by quietly. The first one has stood close behind you and the second one in front of the door to the office. You notice that now that they have opened their jackets, each one has a gun in a holster by his side.

"We've got your address and other information," the boss continues as he hands back the wallet. "The boys got the license number of your car, and if they didn't, I'm sure they will."

"Yes, sir, we already got it," interjects the man by the door although you don't remember seeing him do it. The other man looks a little startled by the answer, but then he breaks into a smile and approvingly nods his head.

"I don't expect," the boss continues, "we'll be hearing anymore from you or that you will cause any trouble. We can deal out some pretty bad trouble to anyone who gives us trouble."

"Yes, sir, don't worry. I won't give you any problems."

"Good. The boys will take you back now and have a good trip."

On the way back, nobody says much. There is little light except for that from the two men's flashlights, which they keep flashing on the path. There is a still silence except for something that sounds like a bull-dozer at a long distance. You are tempted to look around to see what there might be that makes this place so secret, but you don't want to take any chances in aggravating your guards. Instead, you simply keep your eyes fixed on the path. Besides, there doesn't seem to be very much nearby except for trees. The strong smell is still in the air. It is definitely coming from somewhere in the area toward which you were driving when they stopped you. Before getting in your car, you take a quick surreptitious glance ahead but it is total darkness.

"We'll go with you to escort you out," says the first one.

They get in your car with you, and you start to drive back to the place where you came in. Since the back seat is full of boxes and suitcases, they both get in the front. Maybe they are planning to give you a good going-over before you leave as an example of what could happen if you don't keep your mouth shut. They still haven't said much except for what is necessary. The silence is getting on your nerves, but you're afraid to say very much. You wouldn't know what to say. If they wanted to, they could give you a good beating with those long, heavy flashlights they are carrying. It wouldn't take many blows.

At the gate there is a man in a pickup truck waiting. As you arrive, he gets out of the truck to open the gate. "Stop the car," the first man who is sitting next to you orders. The second man gets out of the car and walks over to the truck. The first man moves over closer to the passenger window but stays in the car.

You see a rifle mounted in a rifle rack across the rear window of the truck's cab. The second man takes it out, looks at it, tests the mechanism, aims the rifle by looking through the expensive-looking scope mounted on it, and then puts it back on the rack. It seems that the man took the rifle out not so much to inspect it but to give a show intended for your viewing. If they wanted to, they could easily shoot you and bury you off to the side somewhere. Nobody would find your body for years--if ever. The driver of the truck has gotten back in as the other man goes to the gate.

"Drive outside the gate and stop after a few yards," the man in your passenger seat orders. The truck follows behind and stops also. The man standing by the gate closes and locks it, and then gets in the truck. "Drive toward the freeway," your passenger commands. "Do you remember how to get back?"

"Yes, I think so." There is still a good distance to travel on the dirt road. Hopefully, the roads and turns after that will be easy to remember. The man is completely quiet for a long time. You remember that gun you saw under his coat earlier. You remember the way back to the freeway except that he has to help you on one turn you almost missed. The truck is following right behind. As you get near the freeway, he comments, "Now the man you talked to back there is a nice man, but you want to make sure you don't cross him. When we get up to the freeway, I'll tell you a place to stop the car and you'll let me off."

When you let him off, all he says is "look out for the signs." You get to the freeway as quickly as possible and drive fast. You want to show them you aren't planning on staying around. You are never coming back to that place. They don't have to worry about that. You now feel your neck and shoulders starting to relax dramatically. You hadn't realized how tense you were. You were definitely afraid of what they might be planning to do to you. You wonder what that man meant when he said "look out for the signs." Did he just mean the highway signs or some other signs? Supernatural signs?

You would rather not think about it, but you start to wonder what was in that place. What were they making? Was it a U.S. government operation that is supposed to be top secret? The chemical smell was very strong. Maybe it was the Army working on the improvement of chemical warfare agents. You've heard that the government is worried about the Russians being too far ahead in chemical warfare. But those goons? Could they have been hired by the government? Maybe. It could be a very good front to make it look like the government is not involved.

Another possibility would be not that chemicals were being made, but that they were being stored. That would explain why the smell was so strong. Maybe the chemicals were being put in large outside ponds.

If it was not the government, could it be outside agents working to sabotage the United States or even to help in some invasion? That doesn't seem too likely. Maybe it is one of those new paramilitary, vigilante groups getting ready for an invasion by Communists.

Or maybe it has nothing to do with governments. It could be some chemical company or somebody working for them dumping chemicals, like in the Love Canal thing. You remember seeing on 20/20 that there were hundreds of chemical waste dumps all over the country and that there was always the danger of explosions caused by chemicals that are transported by train.

You remember hearing about chemicals being dumped illegally along a road in South Carolina for many miles. Whoever did it dumped the chemicals in the middle of the night when nobody could see them. There were homes close to the road at certain parts.

50

5

You wake up with the sun shining brightly through the window and on your face. The sun may feel warm, but it is definitely cold out there. It is late morning. That means you slept about five or six hours, but you don't feel very well rested. You are someplace outside of Memphis.

You checked into a Marriott Hotel around 4 this morning. You had to ring the bell and wake up the clerk who definitely seemed to have been sleeping soundly. You hated to do it, but you had decided not to try to find a lonely road to sleep in after what you had been through. A motel seemed like a much better idea after that. You had to use your MasterCard for this place. You probably should have looked for a more economical motel like a Motel 6, but you're a sucker for these luxurious motels. The plush carpeting, the fancy bedspreads, the fancy curtains make you forget your worries. They let you pretend you're important like so many of the other people that stay here.

You turn on the color television and start to watch some of the game shows. You don't know what you want to do today. You aren't hungry at all so there is no need to go out for now. You feel like just staying here for today and taking it easy. You've been driving enough and maybe it would be just as good an idea to lay low for the time being. You watch the soap operas when they come on, although you haven't been watching them for some time. You were watching them regularly last summer before you went to work. You first started watching soaps in college where a lot of the other students were into watching them. It was a fad.

You sit right in front of the television and switch the channels back and forth between the three networks, which are all showing soap operas. On one, a young mother and her son are discussing whether the son likes her boyfriend and how all of them would get along if she married him. There is also some other discussion being shown between two men about slant drilling for oil. On General Hospital a young doctor has to leave his date at a discotheque when he gets called to the hospital on an emergency. On the third network, a man catches his wife kissing another man, but she tells him it was just an innocent good-bye thing.

On a local Christian channel, they are showing The Carpetbaggers from Harold Robbins's first big novel. George Peppard's wife catches him kissing Carol Baker and says she is going to divorce him. You keep changing the channels to try to see as many of the stories as you can and to avoid seeing all the soap and soda commercials. One thing you notice is that in these soaps the people are always white, the surroundings are usually plush, many of the men are rich.

The soap that most catches your attention is the one where the husband caught his wife kissing a younger man. It is called A Brighter Day. The husband and wife have an argument over what the kiss meant. They are both around 59 years old and attractive. Mark, the younger man, was in his 30's. She is wearing a very nice-looking wine red dress and is immaculately made-up and coiffured. He is dressed in a good quality three-piece suit and looks like a successful business executive. They start talking in a tone of quiet anger. Most of the camera shots are close-ups of their faces.

HUSBAND (MATTHEW) That isn't the kind of kiss that is just friendly, Susan. There was a lot of passion in that. I could see it.

WIFE (SUSAN) That was all in your mind, Matthew. It was an innocent thing. He is a very tender and gentle man who is not afraid of physical expression--unlike so many other men I might add.

MATTHEW I hope you're not talking about me because I think it has always been pretty obvious that I am not afraid of physical expression.

SUSAN For the most part that's true, but lately you've been acting very different.

MATTHEW I don't see how. How have I been acting different?

SUSAN You've been very preoccupied with something.

MATTHEW I'm always preoccupied with something. You know that. There's always some problem at work.

SUSAN Yes, you've always had your mind on work, but this time it's different. It's something else.

MATTHEW I'll tell you one thing that has been bothering me is that if you're having an affair with Mark, it could be bad for me at work if they find out.

SUSAN And if I were having an affair with Mark, how could they find out about it, and why would it make that much difference to them?

MATTHEW Things like that often have a way of getting to the wrong ears even if you wouldn't expect it at all. You know how the grapevine works, and you never know who would see you.

SUSAN Well, believe me, Matthew, I would be very discrete. That's if I decided to have an affair.

MATTHEW (raising his voice in greater anger) I'm telling you it's not a good idea under any circumstances. Mr. Jackson and some of the other members of the board of directors are very traditional and conservative. They wouldn't like it at all if they heard the wife of the president of the company was having an affair. I know you can say that would be no reflection on me and that it shouldn't be any of their concern, but that's the way they are. They wouldn't judge me personally, but I think they would be afraid that having an unstable situation at home would affect a man's work. They probably wouldn't confront me with it outright, but it would affect their judgment of my performance. It would make them less patient with me if something went wrong.

SUSAN (sounding more angry) So that's all you care about. How it's going to affect your job. Well, if Mr. Johnson and his cronies are so concerned with their employees having stable family relationships, why don't they see to it that the environment their employees work in doesn't lend itself so much to infidelity. They could see to it that their employees didn't have to go out of town so often and leave their families to go on business trips and conventions where they have such a big chance to fool around. They could stop transferring them from city to city every few years and uprooting their families. Most of all, they could try to to see to it that there isn't as much playing around right under their noses in their offices. Don't think I haven't been aware that you've had your little affairs with girls in the office. I've known it for a long time, but I didn't say anything. I told myself it didn't matter, but now I've decided I was just kidding myself. I don't like it at all.

MATTHEW I've never had an affair. You're making all that up. How could you know anyway? You're saying that so you can use it as an excuse to play around with Mark.

SUSAN I've known for a long time. A woman has a way of knowing those things.

MATTHEW You don't know anything and don't give me any of that woman's intuition stuff.

SUSAN I've known about it. Quit trying to put on a big act.

MATTHEW How long have you been seeing Mark?

SUSAN You're so insecure. I told you I'm not seeing him at all, and by the way so it will make you feel better, he is going to El Salvador on a special assignment for his magazine. You did know he was a reporter. He'll be gone for at least a month so you won't have to worry about him for awhile.

You think I don't know about your fooling around, but I am well aware of your latest love. I know about you and your present secretary Verna.

(Camera fades out on a close-up of Matthew's face.)

55

After the soap operas finish, you keep watching The Carpetbaggers, but you fall asleep and miss the ending. By then you are hungry and decide to get a bite to eat. You feel like getting in your car and driving someplace to eat instead of going to one of the nearby restaurants. You won't drive too far away. You get on the freeway, and after it is too late to change your mind, you realize it is the middle of rush hour. The traffic is moving very slowly. People are anxious to get moving.

The fumes are heavy from all the cars. Some cars want to change lanes but not all of the drivers of the other cars are willing to let them do it. One driver who wants to change lanes shakes his fist at another who crowds him and doesn't let him get in. Common occurrences, you realize, for rush hour traffic in big cities across the land. You've heard that on the L.A. freeway people eat sandwiches in their cars for their supper because it takes so long to get home.

Instead of improving, the traffic situation ahead seems to be getting worse. The cars have slowed down to an almost complete halt. It is not clear what is happening. You can't see anything ahead, but the cars are slowed down for a considerable distance ahead. At the bend about a half-mile ahead, you notice a couple of police cars with flashing lights. The traffic in a couple of the lanes is having to change lanes. No doubt there was an accident ahead, probably a bad one. You could kick yourself for deciding to go somewhere now. There's no telling how long you'll be stuck here. It's a long way to go to the spot where the accident is and with the way traffic is moving, it will be at least a half-hour before you get there. Your stomach is feeling painful with hunger and you wonder how you'll be able to last.

You look at the drivers in the other cars. Some are taking it calmly and others are squirming in their seats with impatience. It hits you that you are wide open right now. Any driver passing by could get a good look at you. If it was one of those people after you, they would see you and follow you. Maybe they would even do something to you right here on the freeway like point a gun at you and shoot you. Maybe this is all in your mind. Yet you get the real feeling that there is somebody coming to get you. Even if you are wrong, you can't take any chances.

After you get back to your room, you don't feel like going out again. You stay inside and watch television. You flip back and forth between the channels. This has become a real habit. The pace of the shows seems so slow. It didn't use to be that way, but once you started the habit of flipping the channels to try to watch several shows at one time, it seemed too boring to only watch one show. It's getting to be that even watching three shows at once is too boring. You want it all to go faster, to get it over with. You take some Valium.

You decided to stay another day because tomorrow you want to go visit Elvis Presley's gravesite. You go to bed late, but the people in the room next to your bedroom are still up and making plenty of noise. It sounds like an argument. It isn't very loud, but it still bothers you. You get curious and put your ear to the wall. It is a couple. They are lowering their tone but can still be clearly heard. They sound to be in their forties.

WIFE. I've told you many times it isn't that important to me. We can do other things. I enjoy it just as much. You're the one that's all hung up on just one thing. A lot of women think the same way. You should know that by now. I've shown you books and magazine articles that say that.

HUSBAND (despondently) I don't believe them. I don't believe you, either. It has to matter. That's the way it is. That's the way it is in nature.

WIFE You just want to be stubborn. Nature, especially human nature, is more complicated than that. And why don't you believe me? Why should I be lying, and those other women?

HUSBAND (angrily and slowly raising his voice) Because you want to make me feel good, that's why, but it won't work. I don't want to hear any of your damn lies. That's all they are is lies. It gets me mad to hear anyone tell lies because of pity. I'd rather you be honest with me.

WIFE I am being honest. No, John, no, please. Don't hit me. Don't. I'm getting sick and tired of that. (Some scuffling can be heard.) We're not at home now. I can scream here and they'll come. Don't you dare hit me. I'm getting tired of your violence. You never used to be like that. That last time you beat me was too much. You almost broke my arm, and I could barely move it for a week. I'm not going to take that forever. You don't have to take out your frustration on me. What good does it do anyway? You never were violent before. Why now?

HUSBAND Because I'm useless now. What's the sense in living.

WIFE Oh, don't be silly. Just because you can't get an erection sometimes doesn't mean you have to stop living.

HUSBAND (indignantly) It's not just sometimes that I can't get it up. It's almost all the time.

WIFE Well, it's still not the end of the world. You know, th . . . ." They go on talking more calmly.

The next day you take your time looking at Elvis's gravesite. At the gates to the property there are men handing out advertisements for souvenirs. You like the huge stone lions at either side of the doors to the mansion. The black gravestone is in the backyard of the mansion which is immense. There are several other people here. It is said that there are always people here. Some of them place flowers on the grave. Elvis' death was truly tragic. The whole world felt it deeply. Then there was the death of John Lennon more recently. That seemed even more meaningless because it was a senseless assassination.

You stand here for several minutes, but before long you begin to feel funny about being here. You don't feel very much sorrow although you thought you were going to when you first came. You think you should feel something more, but there is no great feeling there. Then again it may not be so surprising that you can't feel much. You never knew Elvis Presley personally, didn't know that much about his personal life except what you read in the magazines and that isn't reliable at all. How then can so many people come here and feel so mournful?

And most of the ones here with you look genuinely bereaved. Are you just too shallow to feel very much, or are they the ones that are somehow out of touch? Maybe they are lonely people with empty lives who have nothing else to feel strongly about. Presley was a good singer and performer who helped start a big new trend in music but should that bring him that much attention?

You return to the front. As you take a glance at what is going on the street outside the mansion fence, you see two men looking in. Is it the men who assaulted the author in the dream? They are standing still. At first, it appears that they are looking at you, but then it looks more like they are only staring at the property. Maybe they are trying to dissemble that they are looking for you. They turn around and walk away. You try not to lose them from your sight but they quickly disappear. You look to see if anybody else saw them, but other people don't show any kind of reaction.

You feel a chill of fear. You forget Elvis's grave and start walking around still trying to see if you can spot the men again outside the fence. You make sure not to wander too far away from other people. You want to be sure you can be near some help in case those men come to try to get you. You keep looking but there is no one there. You don't know how you are going to get out of here. They might be waiting for you. You could ask the caretakers of the mansion to give you help to the car or you could even call the police. But they'll think you're crazy, and there could be publicity about it. Then for all you know it's only a hallucination of yours. You haven't been eating well and you can feel tenseness. A small group of people starts to leave, and you see the chance to get away with them. You stay close to them as they approach the gate. Luckily they keep walking in the direction of your car so you're able to go along with them. You keep looking in all directions to make sure someone doesn't come along and grab you. When you reach the car, you quickly unlock the door and get in. You lock the door to be sure no will get in then drive away looking around to see if they are watching or following you.

60

After several minutes of driving, you think back regretfully on how you were forced to cut short your visit to Graceland. You recall that you weren't that moved by grief. You also remember not feeling very sad after the death of John Lennon, yet some of your friends took it very hard. Part of the reason was that you were very busy at the time with work and with a rocky relationship you were going through. To your friends, he was a great hero from the '60's who had been very important and had to be given homage. You didn't see the big deal. The '60's that people were always referring to were a remote event to you probably because you were a young kid then. You couldn't see what the big thing was with those '60's heroes. How had they wound up later? John Lennon and Mick Jagger were going around buying castles, who knows why. Bob Dylan built an ark and was going around telling people they had to serve somebody, meaning apparently God. He had looked depressed the time he had received those Grammy awards. Keith Richards and Eric Clapton had wound up on heroine, and Hendrix, Joplin, and Morrison had died from drugs.

6

The next morning you leave early because you want to go to church, but you don't want to go to one in Memphis. You feel more like going to an intimate Sunday morning service in a little church in a little town. There are some small towns east of Memphis, and you're going to drive to one of them to attend church. You haven't been going to church in recent years but have been wanting to go recently. People have been getting back to religion and it's a good idea. It would probably solve a lot of problems if more people went.

You have the fantasy of finding some little church in a small town hidden in the middle of a valley surrounded by pine trees. You pass by farms and notice much of the soil eroded. That makes you feel very discouraged. You've heard there has been a lot of soil erosion through neglect and that could cause serious agriculture problems in the future.

You get off the freeway at a town called Brownsville and go eat breakfast at a small local cafe. You drink three cups of coffee and eat four donuts trying to kill time until Sunday school is over. You only want to go to the sermon. When you get there, all the people are very friendly and cordial. Many of them greet you with a big smile. It makes you feel good. It isn't a very large congregation. The building is old but well taken care of and charming. The church is not nestled in pine trees but there are trees around it. They probably look very good in the summertime along with thick grass all around.

You feel happy singing the hymns that are part of the service. There is a choir in the front and to the right that faces the congregation. It sings two hymns on its own. The choir members are dressed in white robes with gold sash.

The minister eventually gets up to give the sermon, which he has entitled "The Power. of the Devil." You look around the church and notice that there are few young people in attendance. Most of those attending seem to be past 50, and any young people are mostly married ones with young children. The responsibilities of a family often seem to bring people back to God.

The pastor looks to be in his early 50's with a physically sturdy appearance and a slight smile. As he continues in his sermon, he becomes more intense and builds a slow emotional crescendo.

" . . . . but the methods at the disposal of the Devil are many. There are many ways today in which we see the work of the Devil around the world. He is causing unrest and violence and revolution in Latin America, he is helping the Russians to move further along in their path toward world domination, he is preventing the establishment of peace in the Middle East, and here at home he is continuing to bring on the moral breakdown and destruction--through humanistic and liberal ideas--of the Judeo-Christian ethic.

"The Devil works in devious ways and on many levels. He works in a wide international context and he works on individuals. In fact he is always actively involved in the life of every person trying to throw down obstacles in that person's path, looking to provide whatever form of temptation--large or small--may be possible. He is always trying to trap, trying to ensnare, and some people he torments more than others. Some people suffer more in his hands. "But those who have faith in the Lord--those who have true faith--they have nothing to fear for they have the greatest protection of all--the power and strength of God himself.

"It is those who refuse to submit to the hand of God, those who stray from him--especially if they do so knowingly--who risk the consequences of what the Devil can and will do in all his wicked and cruel power. They pay the price if not here then certainly in the life beyond.

"I have a story, a very tragic story of a young girl who was active in church, a very devout Christian who led a very righteous and pure life, but then came the day when she left home to go to college. She came under different influences there and gradually withdrew away from her religious upbringing and the ways of God. She stopped attending church even when she came home to visit her parents. She would sometimes argue with them about religion, express doubts about the divinity of our Lord Jesus Christ, and generally show an erosion in her faith.

"As we all know, when a person draws away from God that leaves greater room for the Devil to enter. It happened that one day she and her boyfriend went to spend a few days in the wilderness of New Mexico. They rented a log cabin to stay in for a couple of nights. It isn't clear what happened, but it appears that two creatures came into the cabin at some point. They broke down the door, destroyed tables, chairs and many other items, and then proceeded to kill the girl and boy. They didn't do it in a very neat fashion either. The cabin was very bloody when it was entered by the search party that went after them.

"Now there were reports that two large grizzly bears had been seen in the area at about the same time, but it might not have been correct. Only one person saw them. They were never caught. In fact there wasn't a trace left. There is a very unusual circumstance behind the story. Grizzly bears are never found in that part of the country. In fact there are hardly any bears at all there. Scientists couldn't believe that grizzlies could have gotten that far down from the north to that part of New Mexico, and the creatures were too big and strong to be any other kind of animal. There was also the possibility that it could have been strange, unknown creatures that have never been seen before. You know you read about that kind of thing every once in a while, like with Big Foot or the Abominable Snowman.

65

"Whatever it was, it was probably done with the aid of the Devil. It was too unusual to be a natural occurrence, but that is what happens when one strays away from the powerful and watchful arm of the Lord. The Lord is no longer there and one is left to the treacherous mercy of the Devil!" After the sermon the minister makes the usual call for those who want to make a profession of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ to step to the front. "And we would also like to invite forward," he continues, "anyone who would like to rededicate his life to the Lord Jesus. Feel free to come forward now. The Lord accepts and welcomes those of his children who wish to get closer to him in their lives."

You have been moved by the service, by the sermon and by the whole setting. You have needed something like this after the last few days. You have more of a feeling of hope now. You step to the front and the minister greets you with a strong handshake. He has a big smile on his face. He asks your name and tells you, "We are very glad you came, and we invite you to join us whenever you can. You are welcome to become a member, of course."

"Thank you," you answer with a sincere smile, "but, I'm just passing through. I came because I felt very much like going to church today. I'm glad I came. I really like your church, and I thought your sermon was very good."

"Well, I thank you. I'm glad you liked it. I hope you continue to have a nice trip, and anytime you're passing through why just feel free to come and see us."

"I will." You think about telling him about what has been happening to you since Florida, about the real reason you are passing through here.

He might be able to give you some advice since his sermon was about the Devil. He might know something that you could do. He looks like a kind and helpful man. No, you decide not to tell him. He probably couldn't tell you much more than to pray and have faith in God. You don't want to bother him with an unbelievable story like yours. Most of all, you feel very reluctant to tell anyone about what has been happening to you. You don't know why you feel that way. You are afraid of saying anything even to a minister who looks very trustworthy and decent. It's not that you don't trust him, but somehow you feel it would only help to bring retribution upon yourself by the very forces that are after you. You can't afford to risk it although you yearn very much to tell someone, to share your fear with them. It is a very lonely feeling.

After the minister closes the service, he comes up to you again and tells you, "You are welcome to stay for a meeting of an organization formed by members of our church. They are going to discuss some items that might be of interest to you. Do you have any time?"

"Yes, I can stay for it. I'm very interested in what they have to say."

People greet each other and linger around talking. Many of them come to greet and welcome you. Eventually about two-thirds of the congregation leaves and the rest sit down for the meeting.

A man stands in the front and begins talking. "I called this meeting because we need to set up a good organization for the projects we are getting involved in.

"Before we go on we need to ask for contributions of whatever you can give. We have a lot of expenses coming up with all the projects we've got going. We're going to pass around the plate and let's make sure it gets all the way around. Remember what our leader, Reverend Carlton, says, 'Material wealth is God's way of blessing people who put Him first.'

"The first project we need to discuss is the school curriculum. We've been making some headway in getting them to use the right textbooks, the ones that don't leave out the Christian viewpoint. The school board agreed to vote on the textbook we recommended for use--the one that includes the divine creation theory--and I believe that through our lobbying pressure we will have enough votes on the board to get our textbook approved."

"Hey, that's great," a man exclaims. Others join in with their happy approval.

"We've also been talking with the board," the man continues, "on adopting some very strict methods for making sure that we weed out as many bad teachers out of the schools as possible. I'm talking mainly of keeping out the homosexuals and the atheists. I don't think we can do much about keeping the other kinds of bad teachers out because if we did we wouldn't have many people left to teach."

The people in the group laugh. You agree that teachers these days aren't very good. There are a lot of incompetents. You've seen some yourself, but it isn't fair for them to think all teachers are bad. Most of them try to do the best they can with what they have. Now it is going to be even harder with all the cutting of Federal funds like the cuts that caused the firing of many teacher aides.

The man goes on talking about the ways needed for people to gain control of their schools and then goes on to another subject. "The second major project, which is part of a nationwide effort, is our drive to secure the passage of the Human Life Amendment. This is very important and we need to work hard on it. We don't have to worry about the Equal Rights Amendment. It's dead. So we can devote all the time we would have spent on it to working on the H.L.A. as well as anti-abortion legislation.

"We can't delay anymore than necessary on passing this Human Life Amendment. The longer we wait, the more poor, little innocent, defenseless, wonderful babies will be killed. We can't let this go on. Even if the majority in this country approve of abortion, we can't allow this sinful killing to go on. As long as we have the power and blessing of God to oppose it, we have to do all we can to stop this.

"In relation to this, we need volunteers to help in our new program that is based on a new idea that has been having success in other parts of the country. This involves having people contact, either through the phone or in person, girls who are pregnant and considering abortion. We have found good ways of getting the names of these girls. Now I can't tell you how we get them because there are a lot of liberals and murdering abortionists who are up in a tizzy about how this violates civil rights and privacy and all that. But this isn't going to stop us. We'll do whatever we have to do to stop abortion. What we need now is all the volunteers we can get to call these girls and tell them what wrong they are doing if they have an abortion. We need people who aren't afraid to speak frankly and honestly, who aren't afraid to tell these girls that murder is a terrible sin. You can't be too polite because this is serious business. If you can stop an abortion, you are saving a human life.

"Now there won't ever be any worry about having too many volunteers. We'll use all we can get because we can simply have several different volunteers call each girl. It'll be even better because that way the girl will have several different people telling her not to kill her baby."

The meeting ends soon after that and you are on you way again. You think back on the story about the boy and girl killed by two creatures in New Mexico. Could those two men who are after you have done such a cruel misdeed? It definitely scares you.

You are eager to drive for a long period of time. Not long after you get on the freeway, the car starts making those noises again. They sound the same as the last time you heard them, but you don't remember hearing them this morning when you left Memphis. You worry about it. Since today is Sunday, it will be almost impossible to find a good garage open. If it's a very complicated problem, they won't be able to fix it in a regular gas station. Even some gas stations are closed today. You just hope the car won't break down today of all days. You should have taken it to get fixed before. You promise yourself you'll do it tomorrow.

The radio is playing "The Boy From New York City." It is a recycled oldie. It first came out in 1964, and now it is being done in a different version by another group. There are a lot of recycled oldies like that going around in addition to all the playing of actual oldies. The recycled versions are usually watered down to a more bland style. Linda Ronstadt was one of the artists who got big making new versions of old songs. A friend of yours started calling her the "Recycle Queen." The girl singing the song goes on about how wonderful the boy from New York City is with his "brand new car" and other things.

70

He has the finest penthouse

I've ever seen in town.

And then he's cute

In his mohair suit.

. . . . . . . . .

He keeps his pockets full

of spending loot.

One thing that this oldies fad is doing is bringing back some of the attitudes of the '50's and early '60's.

7

You stop for the night at a motel outside Knoxville. You get into your room just in time for the 6:30 news. The newscaster reports on all the major national and international stories, then near the end of the newscast announces the minor items. One item catches your attention after the announcer is already into it.

. . . . and the author is recuperating from his shock in Florida tonight after the bizarre assault. The masks of the two assailants were a shark's head and a replica of the helmet worn by Darth Vader in the movie Star Wars. A search has begun for the two suspects, but it seems they disappeared without a trace. There were no witnesses to the assault other than the victim himself.

The announcement goes on to mention the books the writer had written and leaves you stunned. It was what you saw. It was in Florida, it was the author with the same name who had written the same books that were mentioned. The detail you can't understand is that the report said it happened this morning. Could the television have been wrong about that? Maybe they meant to say that it happened yesterday morning. It was yesterday morning that you had that vision. It must have happened then. You keep thinking of how strange it seems. Your mind keeps trying to understand something about it, but it doesn't seem to be able to.

You try to forget about it and look at what is on television. You are waiting to see the popular Sunday night programs like Alice, The Jeffersons and Trapper John, M.D. In the meantime, you switch through the channels for something to watch. The PBS station is rebroadcasting a segment of the McNeil-Lehrer Report. Some black African leader is saying, "The policy of the United States should be to help groups that are looking to establish fair and democratic governments rather than automatically supporting racist, right-wing regimes simply because they declare themselves to be anticommunist." That sounds fair enough. You've heard that kind of plea made many times before. You figured by now the United States was doing that.

You switch the channel. The local Christian channel is showing The Howard Ruff Show. Ruff is talking about investments in precious metals like platinum and germanium. Supposedly some precious metals will give very good returns on investment because they are becoming scarce like so many other things. Your father likes to watch Howard Ruff. He has read all his books and similar ones like Crisis Investing: Opportunities and Profits in the Coming Great Depression, Inflation-Proofing Your Investments, You Can Negotiate Anything.

After the show finishes, the same station runs the old film The Road to Zanzibar with Bing Crosby, Bob Hope and Dorothy Lamour. Crosby and Lamour are being carried through dense jungle in litters by rugged, quiet, faithful half-naked blacks. Crosby is sitting back very relaxed smoking a pipe. You watch this movie for a while and then see your favorite Sunday programs as they come on, but you can't concentrate very well.

You are starting to think that this vision you had about the assault on that writer was serious. It sounds like you saw it just like it happened and at about the same time--within a few hours at least. It is remarkable. You've never had such visions before in your life. Never even dreamed you could ever do it. It could never happen again. But even once is hard to understand. You remember how grotesque those two men looked with their masks and physical abnormalities, especially the missing arm.

You now remember hearing that people who practice meditation sometimes develop psychic abilities as a side-effect. You started meditating two months ago because you were having problems in getting to sleep at night. You wouldn't think that would be long enough to develop any psychic abilities. In any case, you never dreamed it could happen to you.

This psychic power, you realize, isn't just a power to see an event that is occurring hundreds of miles away. It looks very much like an ability to see into something that is going to happen in the future. That is if that news report was correct about the time it happened, and it probably was. How can it be that someone can see ahead in time and so accurately?

All your favorite shows are over and you haven't been paying attention. You might as well not have had the television on. The 10:00 news comes on and you make sure it is on a different channel from the one on which you heard the 6:30 news. You hear the same story again, and again it is mentioned that the incident happened this morning. Two different stations couldn't be wrong.

You decide the best way to get this off your mind is to go to this bar down the block from the motel and sit a while. It isn't just a bar but a large country and western dance hall. When you checked in earlier, you heard the desk clerk telling someone that it gets lively every night even on Sundays. You can see it as you look out your window. The parking lot is full of cars. The sign on the front reading The Silver Spur is lit up brightly.

You get ready to go and check yourself very thoroughly. You take a good shower, brush your teeth with Close-Up for fresh breath, then wash your mouth out with Lavoris to make sure. You make sure to spray on Right Guard deodorant and antiperspirant since you know you'll be working up a sweat if you dance. You look at your face closely to see if there are any wrinkles coming out. So far there are hardly any, but there will be some showing up before very long. You tell yourself that it won't matter, at least you don't think it will.

You brush your hair very thoroughly to make sure there are no dandruff flakes showing at all. You make sure to brush off all the flakes that might have fallen onto your shoulders. It doesn't look good to have dandruff flakes showing on your shoulders. People will think you don't have good hygiene.

75

It would have been better to wash your hair, but you forgot to bring your hair dryer, and it wouldn't look good wet. You wear your new jeans. They still look fairly clean although you would have preferred to have them perfectly fresh. You are running out of clean underwear. You are going to have to buy some new underwear tomorrow. You've been throwing out your dirty underwear because you haven't had a chance to wash it. It's true that you could have found a laundromat somewhere for washing clothes, but you didn't want to take the trouble. Besides, underwear isn't that expensive.

You put on your $150 ostrich skin cowboy boots, which you haven't worn that many times. You haven't had the opportunity. Boots will probably be out of fashion before you get the chance to wear them much. You make sure you take some Certs with you, and as you leave you put a couple in your mouth.

When you go in the door of The Silver Spur and pay the cover charge, you feel the eyes of everyone on you. It makes you wonder whether you forgot something or whether you simply look bad. You realize that it's more likely that they are wondering why you are alone. Nobody comes to these places alone. People usually come with at least a friend or two if not in couples. You try to play it cool, act naturally like there is nothing unusual at all with what you're doing.

A band is playing just inside the entrance to the dancing and seating area. There are colored lights behind them, but they are simple and stationary. No flashing lights and gimmicks like at the discos. The disco fad came and went almost before anybody could wink. You wonder how long country music will stay big.

The room is very large with many tables and a couple of bars at different parts of the room. The place has the capacity for 300 people. The dance floor in the middle is surrounded by tables on three sides and the band stage on the fourth side. It is very large and full of dancers going in circular patterns around the edges of the floor. They are doing the two-step to the song that is being played right now.

You feel very self-conscious as you walk down the aisle past many tables. You have to do this because the bars are at the opposite end of the room from the entrance. Most of the tables are filled. When you get to the bar, you luckily find an empty seat. It would have felt very awkward to stand around or to sit at a table for three or four people.

You continue to feel self-conscious and nervous and that makes you drink that much faster. You like to drink bourbon and soda. You don't want to get drunk. You also don't want to drink too fast because it can get too expensive. You spend too much money. You try not to, but it is very hard. You are always seeing things you want to get. There is always something new coming out and you get curious about it. Then there are all those ads that keep whetting your appetite for all those things. You never seem to be able to get out of debt, no matter how much you try. You never can clear the balance on the credit cards although you would like to very much. Just when it seems you are going to reach zero on the balance line, something else comes up and you charge it. It is so easy to take out that credit card when you want to buy something and before you know it you're way down in the hole again. You would like to be able to save a little money. You would also like to give something to charity, but that is all out of the question. Your parents have always given money to charity.

It feels so strange sitting here alone. You are sure some of the people nearby must wonder why you are alone, must feel sorry for you thinking that you have no friends, you are unwanted. You try to look at the band and the dancers, smile and look like your are enjoying yourself, look cool. You actually get into just sitting there, drinking and enjoying the music. Still, the unease and self-consciousness keep returning especially when you look around and think you see someone staring at you. You just want to have a little fun and maybe a good conversation with someone, preferably someone of the opposite sex. It would be more intimate that way.

This seems so strange, though. Having to go through all this trouble just to find someone to talk to and forget it. It's not worth it to be here. You feel an urge to walk out. You're not desperate, you don't have to be here. Still, you linger on. You don't want to go back now. The longer you sit here, the more distant and separate you feel, yet the more distant and separate you feel, the more you want to get close to someone.

You catch flits and glimpses of conversations around you. You hear two men discussing avidly. They seem high but still definitely sober. They are in their early 40's.

FIRST MAN I don't think it's that hard, It just takes steady and dedicated work mostly. I'm more than willing to do that. I know I have what it takes as far as hard work is concerned.

SECOND MAN You've got to have some luck, too. If you don't get some good breaks, it makes it very hard.

FIRST MAN That's true, and there's no guarantee I'm going to get the right breaks, but if I don't try I'll never find out. But I've got the feeling I'm going to make it. I've got to make a million dollars or else. There's too many people out there becoming millionaires, and I'm gonna be one of them.

A little later you overhear another conversation at a table nearby involving two men and a woman:

WOMAN Did you read in People magazine how much money Reagan is spending on defense?

FIRST MAN Yeah, it's about time. We need to get back to having people know we won't back down on anything and that we've got the power to back it up. We don't have to be pushed around by those little pipsqueak countries.

SECOND MAN It's lousy when we aren't No. l. I remember when I was a kid how proud it used to make me feel that I lived in the country that was No. 1 in the world. Lately we haven't been able to say that at all. You just don't feel the same. We sure as hell better get back to being No. 1.

Eventually you get the chance to dance with several different people, but nothing more happens. No long conversations are begun. You keep drinking fast but try to slow down. You've got to watch those calories. Each drink is over 100 calories. You've been wanting to lose weight for some time. You aren't too overweight, only about ten pounds, but it hasn't been easy to take the weight off. You lose a few pounds, but then you lose control for a few days and eat too many big meals or too many cupcakes or something like that, and you gain the weight right back. Twice you've lost the ten pounds but have eventually gained them back. The extra weight doesn't look too bad, but it is noticeable. Face wise, you are attractive, but you still want to be at your best weight.

You dance again with someone you had danced with before. You dance several songs and become better acquainted. It is easier now that you both are a little drunk. You sit down to rest and keep talking, then later return to dance. The conversation isn't very deep nor very revealing about yourselves. You only say that you are traveling around the country on vacation and headed for Washington, D.C. to see a friend. In a way, you would like to tell more of what has happened to you but decide it is better not to. Maybe later if you feel more trusting. You talk mainly about your hassles in your job.

"Last call." Before you know it, the announcer is giving the last call for ordering drinks. The band stops playing and you know you have to drink up before very long. You talk a little more and then Terry asks, "It still seems so early. Would it be all right to go to your room and watch some television, maybe?"

You don't want to be alone so soon again. "O.K. Sounds like a good idea," you agree.

You get to the room and you both say a few customary little things about what a nice room it is and compare it to others in which you have both stayed. The heater is as low as it will go, but it is still very hot in the room. Before much longer, you are on top of the bed and making out passionately. Neither one of you apparently cares much for watching television. As you make out, it feels even hotter. You both begin to perspire.

80

"God, it's hot," you exclaim and start to take clothes off. Terry also begins to take clothes off. You both take off clothes quickly and stop only until you get to underwear. You make out some more and rub each other down. You feel your head swimming around. You must have really drunk a lot. Terry drank at least as much as you did. You are feeling closer to someone now, definitely closer than when you first showed up at The Silver Spur. Still you can't help but think how strange it is that you only met this person--this stranger--two hours ago. Being drunk helps. You hope you won't catch VD. Whatever happens, it feels better than if you had come back to the room and gone to bed alone.

"Why don't we turn on the air conditioner," Terry suggests. It is now unbearably hot in the room.

"O.K." You get up, look at the controls, and turn it on.

You wonder for a moment whether it will work, but very soon it begins to blow fresh, cool air. In a few minutes the whole room is much more comfortable. The temperature outside is probably below 20 degrees, and yet the air conditioner had to be turned on. This isn't the first time you've seen this happen. You've stayed at motels in the past where you had to turn on the air conditioner in the middle of winter because the heater couldn't be turned down. You and Terry quickly pick up where you left off. Before very long, you are going all the way. You work up a sweat because it is still hot. It feels good but it doesn't last long. After that you both lie there tired, but before long Terry leaves, has to go to work early in the morning. You're alone again.

8

The next morning on the freeway, you notice a car that stays behind you for more than two hours. It is a large late model, cream-colored Buick Electra. It doesn't travel directly behind you but keeps its distance, sometimes allowing one or two cars to drive between the two of you. You believe it started following you right after you left the motel, but you aren't sure. You also think you remember seeing the car following you yesterday. It looks like there are two men in the car, but you can't see too well because they keep their distance.

You think of stopping by the side of the road to see whether they will stop or keep going, but if you do that, they could stop right in front of your car, blocking it, and then maybe capture or shoot you. As it is now, you've got to watch out that they don't pull up beside you and take a shot at you.

You start to worry about how long it will take before you shake them. It could turn out to be very bad. You can hear your heart beating faster. Then again you could be imagining all this. It could be just a coincidence that the car has been following for so long. You keep driving and try to forget that car back there.

You start to think about what city you want to go to next. You could just head back to where you live, but there is still more than a week left in your vacation. Besides you don't know what might happen to you at home all alone. Someone might even be waiting there for you now. You think it would be a better idea to go see your friend in Washington, D.C.

You keep driving for what seems a very long time. You look at your watch and it has only been 45 minutes. You look in the mirror and that car is still there exactly where it was before. You know now that you have to start doing something serious to get away from that car. You've got to come up with some kind of idea. You drive on trying to think of something. If you could only spot a state police car, or even a local one, you could wave it to pull over and tell them what was wrong. You haven't seen a single police car all day so there isn't much chance of finding one. Even if you did find one, it would be your luck that they would be crooked and be friends with whoever it is that's chasing you.

There is a sign for an exit coming up ahead, and it gives you an idea. You can get off the freeway at that exit and then turn on the gas to try to lose them. You can make some quick turns in whatever country roads you find and look for a hiding place. It will be a gamble. If things go wrong, they could catch you and that would be it.

As you approach the exit, you drive very nonchalantly in order not to give the slightest hint that you are going to turn off. Then at the last possible moment, you quickly dash into the exit and floor the gas pedal. You have to watch out very closely for merging traffic because it is a very short ramp. You soon speed up to 70 miles an hour even though it is a 45-mile zone. A half mile down you turn right on a street that is paved but narrow. Before you turn, you look back in the mirror to see if the car is coming but it is nowhere in sight. You know it could still be coming. There are other cars that could be blocking your view of it.

As you make the turn onto this road, you skid into the oncoming lane, but luckily no cars are coming at the moment. You straighten out and travel on the paved road for a long time in order to get as far away from the freeway as possible. You feel much safer far from the freeway. You come upon a dirt road that looks just like what you were wanting to find. It looks isolated, narrow, and quiet. The sign says Udolpho Road. You make a left turn onto it because farther down there appear to be trees near it that you could use to hide. The road is hard and apparently not used very much. There are fresh tracks on it that appear to be those of a large vehicle like a tractor.

The distance to the trees you saw before seems much farther than it appeared, but you don't mind because you wanted to get well away from that last road. After you get to the area where the trees are, you come to another small dirt road that leads into the middle of a thick forest. Everything has turned out well. You've found the type of isolated roads that you were hoping for. You've forgotten to check in the rear-view mirror because you have been looking intently ahead, but you don't believe the car is following you anymore. With a little bit of luck, you've done a good job of shaking them off. You aren't going to take any chances.

You are going to go into this forest and hide out for at least a couple of hours. It is late in the afternoon. After it gets dark, you can get going again. You pass a Keep Out sign, but you figure it's just some government bureaucrats who put it up for no reason.

You keep driving on this road for almost a mile. There is not a sign of civilization anywhere. It will be hard to find you. The road comes into a large clearing and to the left you see some buildings. They are all made of wood. There is one long one, and in front of it there are eight small ones that stand on square bases. They look like World War II type Army barracks. The buildings are about 2,000 feet to the left of the road.

As you drive along and come almost even with the buildings, a group of men come running at you from behind trees and bushes on the left side of the road. There are six men, and they are all dressed in combat military uniforms. Two of them quickly block the road ahead and the rest come toward the car. They look very confident that you will stop and they have good reason. All of them have rifles and are pointing them directly at you except for one of them who points his straight up in the air and fires a shot. At the same time, he is yelling, "Halt, halt." You don't feel like resisting and so decide to stop the car in its tracks. You hardly have time to even feel scared, everything happens so quickly.

Two men open the door immediately and one of them says in a bewildered tone, "How did you wind up way back in here? You'll have to step out of your car now." Both of them search you while two others go into the car and search it completely. One of them takes the keys from the ignition and opens the glove compartment. They take everything out and look at it carefully. They pry up the back seats in order to search for anything hidden under them. They even pry up some of the carpeting. They open the trunk and inspect it thoroughly. They take out your suitcases and put them on the ground.

85

"Give me the keys to these suitcases," one of them orders you gruffly. You straighten up slowly so as not to threaten them, reach in a small bag in which you carry common items, and give him the keys. All this time one of them has been standing no more than five feet behind with his rifle pointing directly at you. They let you remain standing straight, but the man continues to point his rifle at you. The rifles all seem to be M-16's except for one which looks like an old machine gun.

They hardly speak a word except for what is necessary in carrying out their tasks. They are very efficient and unemotional except for a trace of contempt. The one who opens the suitcases repeats "S. K." after he looks at your engraved initials on the suitcases.

The one who has been looking slowly through your wallet since he took it from you says, "That matches the name in the wallet items." They look through everything individually that is in the suitcases.

The one with the machine gun now takes a walkie-talkie and starts to talk with someone who is apparently back at the buildings to the left. He describes what happened and reports, "The invader had no weapons either on the person or on the vehicle. No subversive or otherwise suspicious items were found."

"Did the invader have proper identification?" asks the voice on the other end.

"Yes, the identification appears to be valid."

"O.K."

"Does the Colonel want to interrogate the subject?"

"Yes, of course. The jeep will be right there in a minute."

Only a few moments pass before a jeep comes. Only the driver is in it. They tell you to get in the back. One of them climbs in the back with you, and the one with the walkie-talkie, who appears to be in charge, gets in the front. Another man takes your car and follows the jeep while the other two men go back into the bushes from which they first came out. The jeep soon arrives at the road leading to the camp and a large gate has to be unlocked and opened.

No one speaks any more than necessary as you drive up the road and eventually to a large building. You thought at first that these were U.S. Army men, but the more you think about it, their uniforms don't look like U.S. Army uniforms. All of the men are wearing fatigues, but there are too many differences in the uniforms. Some wear camouflage fatigues but a couple have only regular ones. Some wear baseball caps, some berets, and one has a helmet with the same shape as a Nazi helmet. Nowhere do you see any sign or emblem that looks like one belonging to the United States military, One man wears a black beret while another one wears a blue one, Two of the men are wearing bullet belts across their shoulders and over their chests. Some of them wear a skull and bones emblem on their uniforms or caps but others don't. They wear different kinds of boots and their rank insignias look much different from what you remember seeing on the U.S. Army or Marines.

After all of you get off the jeep, you feel a little nervous and say something to the group leader, "What kind of machine gun is that?"

"It's a Thompson M1928 .45 caliber," he answers with a sudden glowing pride.

"I've seen those in movies," you tell him. "Yeah, it's a real fine weapon."

They take you inside the big building. The first thing you see is a large recreation room. There are several billiard tables, a ping-pong table, pinball machines, several electronic game machines, and dartboards on the walls. The next room is a dining hall with long tables and metal folding chairs. There is a strong smell of the food that is probably going to be served for supper within the next few hours. On the walls there are a number of posters, paintings and emblems. All of them have a war or military theme. There are several men playing different games. Most of them have fatigue pants on but have taken their shirts off and are wearing only T-shirts. One of them stands not very far in front of you. You get the chance to look at what he has painted on the front of his T-shirt. It shows a big burly man in combat fatigues with two bullet belts diagonally across his chest and an M-16 in his hands. He is stomping on top of an Arab dressed in a traditional Arab robe. The caption underneath reads, WHAT PRICE NOW, OPEC?

You are taken into a small room to the side of this recreation room. You are left there without a word of explanation. The door is closed behind you, and you can hear locks being placed on the other side of the door. It is a small room with a desk, a long table like those in the dining room and three old wooden chairs. There is a fluorescent light in the ceiling.

There is some sort of military coat of arms on the wall behind the desk. There are posters on the other walls. One of the posters has a picture of an angry American eagle perched on a tree looking toward the ground and saying, PATIENCE MY ASS! I'M GOING OUT AND SHOOT SOMETHING. On another wall there is a poster showing a big, strong soldier standing proudly with bullet belts across his chest. Words across the top of the poster say, A MAN AMONG MEN, while across the bottom it says, RHODESIAN ARMY. Another poster beside it shows a big mushroom cloud of an atomic explosion in the background and in the foreground a skull lying on the ground wearing a kefiyah, the traditional Arab male headdress. The caption reads NUKE THEIR ASS, GET THE GAS. On the wall opposite the desk, there are two large scimitars mounted crosswise set in gleaming gold scabbards.

There is a small bookcase with several hardcover books mainly dealing with military tactics and other military subjects. There are a number of paperback novels about war. Almost all of them are about the triumphant battles of World War II. The only Vietnam book is The Green Berets by Robin Moore. There are also several copies of Dogs of War, a novel about mercenaries in Africa. There are many magazines lying around on the table and the desk, mainly copies of Soldier of Fortune and Survive magazines. You look through some of them and notice where some of the posters and T-shirts you've been seeing were bought. There are also numerous advertisements for rifles, pistols, knives as well as courses in self-defense, marksmanship, and vigilante tactics.

You wait for what seem to be hours. You don't know for sure because you don't have your watch with you. Luckily you did bring your cigarettes and have hardly stopped smoking since they put you in here. It was a new pack so it should last for several more hours. You've been smoking too much. You are already half-way through the second pack you bought just a few days ago. You have been trying to stop smoking for several years now. You actually stopped smoking completely one time with this nicotine withdrawal course you took that was very effective. Six months later, however you slowly started smoking again. You've tried and have come close several other times but just can't seem to do it.

You don't hear anything outside the door except the sounds from the men playing in the recreation room followed by the sounds of all the men eating in the dining hall. You wonder how long they will keep you here. Have you broken some law? Will they turn you over to the police for not obeying the Keep Out sign? Are they part of the United States government and you've just intruded into some secret operation? What will they do to make sure you don't give away the location of their encampment? What about that car that was following you?

After another period of long waiting, the locks are being unlatched and then the door is opened. Two men in full fatigue uniform enter and hold the door open for a third one who follows.

"This is the Colonel," one of the first two men announces to you. "He is the commandant in charge of our operation." The Colonel walks in very upright and confidently. He goes behind the desk but remains standing. You get up when he comes into the room and draw closer to the desk as he goes behind it. You are expecting that he will extend his hand to you but he doesn't.

90

"Sit down, please," he tells you in a cold tone. He acts very serious and businesslike. He is short and a little overweight. He wears a khaki military officer's uniform, a maroon beret with a green emblem and immaculately shined combat boots. The shine on them looks like a mirror. He wears several medals on his left front pocket and his uniform is perfectly clean and pressed. He has military press lines from top to bottom passing along the middle of his pockets in both front and back. He has a round face that looks like it can hold a full, pleasant smile whenever he wants it to, but that doesn't happen very often because he is usually too intent on his business.

He begins to talk in a firm tone, "This encampment you see here is a very important and necessary operation in which men come to be trained for various tasks. We don't mind visitors, but we like for them to clear with us in advance before coming. We also like to screen the people who come here to make sure they are sympathetic to our cause. We don't want anyone hostile to us to come and disrupt or sabotage or spy on our operations. We especially don't want members of the goddamn press coming unless they can form an unbiased opinion, and very few reporters can. Most of them just want to ridicule and distort. They don't understand or appreciate the important purpose behind our training camp. We don't need that kind of agitation.

"From the identification and papers in your wallet, it doesn't seem that you are any kind of reporter." As he says this, he takes your wallet out of his coat pocket and hands it back to you. The man who had originally taken it when you were stopped had never given it back. The Colonel continues to talk, "What then was your reason for coming here?"

"Uh, I was trying to get away from these two men who were following me in a car," you reply nervously. You now realize you should have been prepared with some kind of false story.

"Why were they following you?"

"I don't know. I just think they were following me all day since I left my motel this morning. They never got close to my car, but they were following me at a distance for several hours."

"Are you sure they were really following you or was it just a coincidence?"

"Well, no, I'm not sure, but I didn't want to take any chances so I tried to get away from them."

"And you got off the freeway and tried to lose them."

"That's right."

"Well, it looks like you did it because we didn't spot any other cars coming up here. You just better hope they aren't waiting for you at the bottom of the hill when you leave. What is your final destination?" he asks. You tell him the details of where you are planning to go and that you are on vacation. He doesn't seem very concerned about whether your story is true. He appears to trust you.

"I don't think you are the type that would give us much trouble especially after you come to understand what we are trying to do here. I'm sure you are a loyal and patriotic American and that you realize that we are today engaged in a life and death struggle between the forces of Freedom and Communism, the forces of conservatism and liberalism, the forces of good and evil, the forces of God and the forces of the Devil.

"I founded this school because I saw that it was necessary for good Americans as well as members of other countries of the Free World to be prepared to fight terrorism and Communism both around the world and here at home. There just wasn't anything like this kind of school before.

Now there are some other ones besides this one that have been formed and it's a very good thing. We need as many as possible as long as they are good, and the only good ones are the ones that are willing to teach all the techniques no matter how deadly rather than just a few little sissified lessons in hand-to-hand combat or pistol marksmanship.

"We train men here in counter-subversion operations, in anti-guerrilla tactics and in vigilante defense. We know we have to be ready for all kinds of warfare and attacks both from foreign forces and right here in our own cities. We have to be ready to fight because our own army and our own police can't, or won't, do the job of defending our lives and property like they should. We've got to start taking the offensive on the war against crime in the jungles we call our cities, and we've got to get serious about defeating Communism. Right now the forces are advancing on every front around the world. You probably heard that President Reagan had to send troops to Grenada to throw out Communists there."

You heard about that but later heard that it was a tiny island off South American that had no significance.

"Right here they are infiltrating quietly as illegal aliens. Not many people know about this, but all those illegal aliens are helping set up a Marxist revolution right here in this country. They're the first wave. I know some guys who said they are going to go out into the Gulf of Mexico and start turning over some of their boats. There has to be a stop put to it somewhere.

"Anyway, I don't think you would give us any trouble. Am I right?" he raises his voice as he asks.

"No, sir. You won't have any worry with me. I didn't see a thing."

"That's real fine. The men will escort you back to the main road now."

They take you in the jeep all the way back to the first dirt road you took. It is dark by now. They say nothing along the way. When you get to the intersection of the first and second dirt roads, you see your car standing by the side of the road. They let you off the jeep, give you the keys to your car and go off with a short goodbye.

The car that was following you earlier is nowhere in sight, but then it is very dark by now and you can't see anything anyway. You have to watch out that it isn't waiting for you farther down the road. It is deserted; no one around to call for help. You turn on the radio to fill the air with something like human sound.

It's around midnight and The Larry King Show is on. The guest is an author named Patrick Wright who wrote On A Clear Day You Can See General Motors, the story of a former G.M. executive. A caller is asking a question. It sounds like a young woman.

CALLER I just called to make sure I heard you right? Did you really say that many corporation executives get $400,000 and $500,000 salaries per year.

WRIGHT Oh, yes, and more.

KING Plus all the other benefits like stock options.

WRIGHT That's right.

CALLER. Boy, I can't believe that. I just wanted to make sure I heard right, that's all. Thank you. You take some Valium with the little water left in your Thermos bottle and change the station. Gary U.S. Bonds, a comeback singer who first made it big in 1960, is singing "This Little Girl is Mine." In the song, he is supposedly talking to a potential competitor:

You better watch your step,

You better stay in line.

This little girl is mine.

You change the station. There is a man talking in a commercial, "You'll be proud to own this fine memento for years to come. It can be put in your living room or any other room in the house. Buy several if you desire. "This 4-foot high statue of John Wayne is an exact replica of the Duke just as he looked when he was making all those great movies. It is the exact statue of a great American that you will always treasure. And don't forget this statue of John Wayne also makes a great gift.

"To order just send . . . . "

Change the station. Another rock station with a D.J. telling a sex joke. You wonder why some of the poor D.J.'s on some of these rock stations always seem so horny.

Change the station. It's The Larry King Show again. A caller is talking. It is the voice of a middle-aged man who sounds angry and resentful, "I have no doubt that what is behind all those shady dealings is the Trilateral Commission. There has to be a stop put on the world-wide conspiracy that has been perpetrated by the Trilateral Commission. It is too much of a . . . . "

95

Change the station. Another rock station. It sounds far away. It is an advertisement for a contest of the radio station made up of tape recorded segments of listeners being told by a disc jockey that they have won.

DISC JOCKEY You have just won $100 in the WINT Easy Money Jackpot.

FIRST VOICE Oh, wow. That's great. Wow.

DISC JOCKEY You have just won $300 in the WINT Easy Money Jackpot.

SECOND VOICE God, oh great. I can't believe it. Wow, it's unbelievable.

DISC JOCKEY You have just won $1000 in the WINT Easy Money Jackpot.

THIRD VOICE Oh, jesus. You're kiddin'. I'm rich. Wow. Yeeeaye. All that great money.

DISC JOCKEY Remember you too can win a lot of money in the WINT Easy Money Jackpot. Just be sure to put on your WINT bumper sticker on your car and we may be picking your car to win the prize.

You ask why stations like that can't rely on just playing good music to get good ratings instead of doing it through prizes. You think back on that camp at which you were just held. You didn't know there were such training schools and wouldn't have imagined they existed. It didn't look like it had been in existence very long. The buildings looked new. It is probably a good idea to train men for combat like that if things are as bad as they say. You wonder if they are really all that bad.

The car is making noises under the hood again. You just hope it won't break down tonight.

9

You don't feel like stopping so you keep driving in the night. It is an especially cold night with snow starting to fall. You hope the road won't get too slippery.

You aren't sleepy but you definitely feel tired. You are making it on nervous energy. Your whole body is tense, the nerves in your neck are tight and hard, your eyes feel like they are burning, your ass and lower back are sore. Your eyes seem to be playing tricks on you. Out to the side of the highway, you sometimes see things like people or small objects, but you turn around and there is nothing there. The reflectors along the sides of the road sometimes appear much brighter than they actually are. You know you should stop soon, but you want to wait until you are sleepy or otherwise you'll just lie there tossing around without falling asleep.

Two hours later you come to a sign on the freeway announcing a state prison to the left. The prison is set back almost a half-mile from the highway. It is large and made up of long, drab, concrete buildings. The rows of windows along the buildings all look exactly the same. The entire prison complex and surrounding area is very well lit and the light on the cream-colored buildings makes the prison stand out in stark contrast to the surrounding darkness. It is a pretty scene set out in the middle of a deep, dark space. It looks almost like a scene out of a fairy tale. You wake up from your reverie and realize the people in there don't think it's a fairy tale.

Suddenly you think you see prisoners in their uniforms coming from the prison. They are running all along the fields toward the freeway. They are running very hard and very fast. There are many--hundreds, maybe thousands running to the freeway. Some have already reached it, and all of them--every single one of them--is coming straight to you. They have mean, terrible scowls on their faces. Why you? What have you done to them? They are catching up to you now. You are now going at 60 MPH and they still run fast enough to catch up to you. They are pounding on the doors, the windshield, the fenders, the hood. They are ugly and almost all have marks and bruises on their faces. They are yelling very loudly and wildly, but it can't be understood. Suddenly you see the two men right in the middle of them--the ones with the disguises in your dream. They are running toward you with the others. In an instant, they disappear--all of them. You realize you had better get some sleep.

Prisoners might not think prison is a fairy tale but sometimes you wonder. With all the demands for rights they always seem to be making, it looks like they think it should be a picnic. You saw a cartoon making fun of them about that the other day. It showed them with color TV's and lots of other good things. Df course, you wonder sometimes whether conditions might not in fact be very bad with all the stabbing and rapes and murders you hear go on in there. You don't know who to believe. You would probably have to see the inside of a prison to know what is going on.

You take another cigarette. You are wide awake again. You would stop, but there are no motels in sight. Won't be any because it is quite a distance to the next town.

You drive for about a half hour then before you realize what is happening, you see the most hideous sight. What you see takes only a few seconds as you pass, but it leaves a sharp Image in your mind. You are traveling on the outside lane of a four-lane highway divided by a small grass median. Everything you see is on the inside lane going in your direction. You slow down.

The first thing you see is this man lying in the middle of the inside lane with his head toward you. He is bald and that makes the red gash on his head and the blood running from it stand out that much more. His face is looking straight at the sky with a fixed stare looking as if he could be unconscious--or even dead. Just ahead and in between the two lanes are two cars involved in the accident. You have to veer rightward quickly in order to avoid them. They are both crumbled badly. It looks like a very high speed accident. It is between a Corvette and a Datsun 280ZX. It looks like the Corvette came across the median and hit the 280ZX head on. Long skid marks are behind the Corvette so it must have been traveling at a very high rate of speed.

You can see part of a body sticking out of a broken side window of the 280ZX. There is water and gasoline leaking onto the pavement from the cars. 50 feet further down the left lane, there is a young girl lying on her back, her hands embracing her body and arms in apparent pain. She must also be very cold. It has stopped snowing now, but it is very cold. There is no pain in the expression on the girl's face as she looks with her head turned toward you. Instead she simply wears a blank stare while her eyes gaze directly at you without feeling.

As you are leaving the scene, you look back and see two more people. They are just inside the median next to the pavement. One of them is lying on his right side looking away from you. You can't tell whether it is a man or a woman. The body is lying there still and motionless. The other person on the median is an older, pot-bellied man who is obviously not as badly injured because he is kneeling on his left knee. His face has a couple of patches of blood probably from broken glass. He is holding his left hand in the air and waving to you slowly for help. Looking at him waving his hand weakly with a forlorn face hits you to the marrow, but you can't stop. You would like to, but you couldn't handle it. You wouldn't know what to do. Maybe somebody else will come along later and give them a hand. The accident apparently took place only a few minutes ago.

You drive faster to get away from the scene. Surely some of those passengers will die from the accident. They'll become part of the Christmas-New Year toll of fatalities that they keep talking about on the radio, part of the record that gets broken almost every year.

100

The images of those bloody bodies remain vividly in your mind. You try not to think of them. Then there's the memory of those two cars crumbled and cut. They both looked like recent models, and the Corvette and the 280ZX are your two favorite cars. You've always wanted to own a Corvette. It is your first choice except that it uses so much gas that you've decided you'll probably never buy one. Instead you'll settle for a 280ZX, which is more economical all the way around, although you also are very fond of the Porsche and have not ruled out buying it. You also like the DeLorean but that's $30,000. Maybe someday. All of them are great cars, great on performance and great on looks. Your friends like them, too.

That Corvette had to be going fast. You have wondered if the government should allow cars that go that fast to be driven on the road. It was a shame to see the way that Corvette and that 280ZX were left after that accident. It looked like they were totaled. Such beautiful cars, to have to end up that way and so soon. It happens that way many times. It's a shame so much money is lost each year on damaged automobiles--billions.

You don't know when you'll be able to afford a 280ZX. That makes you mad. You've got too many bills right now and aren't earning enough to add on car payments. The interest rates don't help very much in keeping down the cost of cars. You get frustrated and angry to see the cost of everything so high, and it doesn't look like the situation is going to improve very soon. They say the economy will never be the same again like it was in the '50's and '60's. It won't be the same standard of living, but why did you have to get caught in it especially in your prime years to enjoy life. It's called the economic fall of the middle class. What a disaster. You can't buy a 280ZX and who knows when, if ever, you'll be able to buy a home or a top-of-the-line stereo system like you've always wanted.

You think of the Grand Luxury 280ZX 2 seater and the things it has: 6-cylinder 2.8 liter OHC electronic fuel-injected engine, 5-speed manual with overdrive transmission all synchromesh, recirculating ball w/power assist steering, 4-wheel power assist disc brakes, 4-wheel suspension, power windows, steel belted radial tires with raised white letter sidewalls, aluminum alloy wheels, AM/FM stereo radio (4 speakers) and surround sound control, power antenna, cruise control, reclining front bucket seats, 6-way driver's seat w/lumbar adjustment, 6-way passenger's seat w/lumbar adjustment, complete aircraft-type instrumentation including tachometer, tinted glass, electric rear window defroster, rear window wiper/washer, dual electric door mirrors, computer sensor system, soft velour upholstery, full cut-pile carpeting, quartz digital clock with date feature and stopwatch, dual fuel gauge, center full console w/armrest cover, 2-speed windshield wipers and washer plus intermittent feature, illuminated passenger visor vanity mirror, coat hooks, light package (courtesy lights), remote hatch opener, locking illuminated glove box, hidden storage compartments, lockable hidden storage compartment, resettable trip odometer, coin holder, driver's foot rest, locking fuel filler, 2-key security system, steering column stalk mounted controls, stalk controls with lane change and flash-to-pass feature, inside hood release, bumper guards, cigarette lighter with illumination, flow-through ventilation, unibody construction, perforation corrosion protection.

Those are standard features. Some of the optional equipment you would like are air conditioning with automatic temperature control, 3-speed automatic transmission, leather seating surfaces, T-bar roof, cassette or 8-track deck, CB one-hand mike system, rear window shade louvers, sport accent stripes, stainless "Targa-style" roof band, color-coordinated floor mats.

10

You get off the freeway to buy cigarettes at a service station. There are several people in the coffee shop looking sleepy-headed and trying to wake-up. It is 6:30 A.M. and you haven't slept yet. You've kept right on driving not having felt sleepy since the accident. Your body feels numb and your head feels like it's floating in thin air. You aren't very hungry but you go into the coffee shop for some coffee and donuts (and some Valium with the coffee.) You still feel like driving a couple of hours. Then you'll sleep two hours or so in the car and from there go on to Washington.

In the coffee shop, there are two families with young children who are active and noisy. It looks like they somehow got a good night's sleep. There is an elderly couple eating quietly at a corner booth. It looks like they are all traveling somewhere to visit relatives for the holidays. It makes you feel a little homesick. Driving back to the freeway, you have to stop for a passing freight train. It's a long train with cars from different railroad companies--Camden National, Burlington Northern, Southern, ATSF. You think about how there is almost no passenger train service anymore, and yet trains are supposed to be the least polluting and most energy-saving compared to cars and planes.

Once on the freeway, you hear a news item on the radio about the continuing search for suspects in the case of the killings of some black boys in Atlanta. That reminds you of a joke you heard when the killings were big news.

Q. What is black and white and getting whiter?

A. Atlanta, Georgia.

Busing is pretty unpopular now. You would have thought there would have been a huge outcry, especially from blacks, when the Congress voted to weaken it, but they weren't fond of it either.

There is a hitchhiker ahead standing close to the edge of the highway holding his arm fully outstretched. When you get closer, you see it is a man wearing a cowboy hat, a long, heavy brown leather jacket, blue jeans and hiking boots. You remember the previous hiker you saw a few hours after you left Florida. You try to get a good look at his face as you come up to him. As you go past him, you keep looking right into his face, and you swear it is the same face of the earlier hitchhiker. It is amazing and you feel a piercing pang of fear go through you. He returned your stare with a reproachful look.

You think hard on whether it was the same hitchhiker. You could be wrong, but it looked very much like the first one. Of course, you were traveling very fast and couldn't get that good of a look. You look in the rear-view mirror and see that he has now turned to face you and keeps staring at your car. You speed up more to get out of sight as soon as possible.

105

As you get close to the next city, you see an increasing number of houses and businesses along the road. You pass a group of young kids, around 15 years old, getting ready to cross the highway. They all look cheerful and healthy. You notice that some of them are wearing T-shirts with the same letters on the front, Klan Country, U.S.A. It surprises you at first to see that. You figured that only old men were members of the Ku Klux Klan. Then again you do remember reading that new KKK chapters had been formed around the country, some of them on college campuses.

You decide to drive into this town and look around--maybe get some lunch, buy a newspaper, park and sleep at some peaceful spot like near a park. You get to downtown and it is pleasant enough. Not too hectic. Some old buildings give it a touch of nostalgia. People walking at a leisurely pace.

You keep making turns on several streets and before you know it you are in what looks like a black section of town. A block ahead there are some buildings that look like a public housing project. Just up the street on the block you are driving on, you notice a large crowd of about 100 persons gathered on the sidewalk on the left. It looks as if they are preparing to stage a demonstration since they are carrying picket signs. As you get closer, you read some of them: Death To the Klan, Cancel the Klan, Nullify the Nazis, Kill the Klan.

There are many cars and trucks parked on the street including some that are double parked and some that are in the middle of the street. There is some kind of disturbance going on as men inside the cars in the street yell angrily at the people in the group with the picket signs. All of the men in the cars are white. You can hear obscenities and racial slurs. Many of the demonstrators on the sidewalk are black. The demonstrators yell back just as nastily at the men in the cars. You park your car at a distance to watch, especially since it doesn't look like you are going to get through.

Both groups yell insults at each other for a few moments, then the angry demonstrators start hitting the vehicles of their adversaries with their picket signs and other sticks. A dozen men then jump out of the cars with rifles, shotguns, and pistols and start firing into the crowd. Some of the rifles are semi-automatic and are being fired on automatic. The demonstrators start running for cover from the shower of bullets. Some of them also have guns and fire back, but they are not as well-armed as the men in the vehicles. There is a lot of screaming and panic in addition to all the noise from the gunfire. You see several demonstrators keel over and fall after being hit. One of them is a woman. You see one of the men firing from the cars is wearing a Nazi armband. You see a man lying across the back end of a car fire a rifle.

You hear the sound of bullets whiz by very near to your car. One of them breaks the front window of a car parked right next to you. You immediately duck down in your seat. You hadn't realized how close you were to real danger. You hear more bullets hit nearby. The firing and commotion last for almost two more minutes. The firing stops, and you peek out the window after waiting another couple of minutes in case the shooting starts again. Police have arrived on the scene. You decide to get out of here right away before any more firing begins. You turn to your right down the street. You see some kids hiding behind a tall concrete fence looking at the scene. You stop and yell at the kids, "Hey, what's going on? Do you know?"

"Yea," one of them answers readily. "That's supposed to be an anti-Klan rally set up by Communists, and some Klan guys and Nazis are shooting up the Commies.''

You get going as fast as you can. You decide it's better not to stay around this town today. You figure you can just drive several miles out of town and park somewhere along the road for some sleep. As you leave the city limits, you notice a sign that says you are leaving Greensboro, North Carolina.

11

You come into Washington, D.C. with daylight rapidly fading. Smog from the day's traffic hangs over the area mostly around the beltway. You saw on television recently that, among other things, pollution causes acid rain to fall on forests and rivers killing many fish.

It is dark by the time you get to your friend's house. She lives in downtown Washington. She works in an office in the Department of Interior. You don't know what her duties are. She has never talked much about her job. You fear for your safety in the neighborhood where she lives because it is rundown, but she has lived there for two years and nothing has happened to her.

You can't find a parking place that is very near to her apartment. It will be a long walk from the car to her place. You dread having to walk it, but you pluck up your courage. This is a predominantly black neighborhood. You walk quickly but calmly. You don't want to give off any indications that you are afraid. You make sure of everything going on around you. You look to the sides and occasionally look behind you to make sure no one is following. You never know what could be lurking in the shadows. A loud noise is heard from the side of a building. You turn quickly, eyes wide open, ready to run once you decide which way you will go. Your heart is beating faster and your face feels warmer although you hardly notice it. You see a cat running by the side of the building away from you and away from some garbage cans. One of the tops of the cans is on the ground and you now realize what the noise was. You continue walking down the sidewalk, and before too long you have arrived at your friend's door. She is expecting you because you called her from a pay phone after you left Greensboro. She opens the door and you yell out, "Cathy!" Her full name is Catherine Morland.

"Oh, it's so great to see you," she shouts with joy as you embrace tightly. You feel a great sense of relief and relaxation as you stand there in each other's arms. It seems like it has been an endless journey.

"Oh, you can't imagine what all I've been through," you tell her as you enter the apartment. It is small, but she has arranged and decorated it very tastefully.

"Come into the kitchen while I finish making dinner. I'm baking lasagna. I hope you like it."

"Oh, yes. I like lasagna." You both talk about what you have been doing. You tell her about the problems with your job and about your experiences on your trip from Florida. You don't tell her any of the strange parts like the visions you had on the beach or the hitchhiker you keep seeing. She might say you're crazy. Besides you don't want to scare her and make things unpleasant.

110

After eating and washing the dishes, you go into the living room. "Some friends are coming over before very long," Cathy tells you. "I'm sure you'll like them. They are very interesting."

You look through the books she has in her bookcase. "You seem to like reading the same books I do. I've read most of these."

"I've just finished reading that one," she says referring to the one you have in your hand, If There Be Thorns, by V. C. Andrews. "I've been reading mostly gothics and some romances." She has some novels by Barbara Cartland and some Harlequin Romances. You pick up a book that doesn't seem to fall into either category. It is entitled The Good Life by Louis Lopez. "Somebody gave that one to me," she informs you. "I didn't like it. It's too strange." Cathy's friends start coming in within a half-hour. Four of them show up--two girls and two guys. All of you talk about the usual. You tell them something about your work and your trip just like you told Cathy.

After everyone has become well-acquainted, one of the guests sighs with seeming consternation, "They just don't make them like that anymore," while looking at the art print Cathy has on the wall, "sober, restrained, self-sacrificing." It is American Gothic by Grant Wood, which portrays a hard-working 19th century Midwestern farmer holding a pitchfork with his wife standing next to him. After a long silence in which no one seems to have anything to say, someone opines, "It looks like Reagan's programs aren't doing so well. All those new labels like 'supply side economics' are just rationalizations for the same old idea of preserving the privileges of the wealthy."

"You've never thought much of Reagan's ideas, have you?" Cathy asks.

"No."

Nobody else including Cathy seems very interested in a political conversation. You don't have much of an opinion. Cathy puts on some records and the conversation moves on to another topic. Some of you get up and dance to the music. The wine you are drinking gives you a nice, relaxing high. You forget all your worries for a couple of hours.

The next morning you get up late and watch Donahue. Shelley Winters is today's guest. She had dropped out of sight for several years but made a comeback recently with a big bestseller talking about the affairs she and her friend Marilyn Monroe had when they were young actresses.

Later you watch the soap operas. You concentrate more on A Brighter Day. Verna, secretary of Matthew the company president, is talking to a friend about Matthew. They are sitting at a table in a nice restaurant having lunch. Both are in their 20's, attractive and well dressed.

VERNA He wants to know all the guys I go out with, Dottie. He wants to know all the details of where I go and what I do on my days off. I can't stand it. I don't know what I'm going to do. The other day he saw me talking with one of the salesmen who comes in. We were laughing and enjoying our conversation. After he left, Matthew came and wanted to know why I talked with him so long. He said he didn't think I should be getting so chummy with anyone. I couldn't believe him.

DOTTIE What did you tell him?

VERNA I said we were just talking, That there couldn't be any harm in it.

DOTTIE You should have simply told him he didn't own you. At least not yet.

VERNA I know but I didn't say anything. I should have stood up to him, but I guess it caught me by surprise.

DOTTIE Has he always been this jealous?

VERNA No, it is only since he's been telling me that he wants to get serious and treating me real nice and giving me all kinds of gifts. I still don't think he has any right to be so possessive. After all, he is still married and hasn't mentioned anything about wanting a divorce or anything close to that.

DOTTIE How can he expect so much devotion from you?

VERNA I know. I should have cooled him off from the beginning.

DOTTIE Well, it's still not too late.

VERNA I don't know. I'm afraid of what he might do now. He has threatened to get violent. I would have never suspected he was capable of violence.

DOTTIE What did he say?

VERNA He saw this letter that Mark sent me. You remember Mark. He was this guy I told you about that I went out with several times before he left for El Salvador. He went on a special assignment for this magazine he works for.

DOTTIE Yea, I remember you telling me about him.

VERNA He sent me this letter from El Salvador. Matthew came over one day and saw it lying on the dining table. He didn't pay much attention to it at first, but then he somehow noticed it had a return address from El Salvador. That made him curious. The return address didn't have Mark's name on it so he wanted me to tell him who had sent it, but I only told him it was from a friend and that it didn't matter. That made him mad, and he insisted that I tell him. I still refused and insisted it wasn't important. That he was only a friend. Matthew threatened to take the letter out of the envelope. He was about to do it when I grabbed the letter out of his hands. Luckily it slipped right out of his fingers. He came after me, but I threatened to scream so he backed off.

He was furious. He kept insisting that I tell him who wrote the letter but I wouldn't. He then told me that I better be careful not to be fooling around or he would take action. I told him he had no right to run my life and asked him what kind of action he thought he could take. He said, "If I have to, I'll kill your lover."

DOTTIE (in disbelief) You're kidding me!

VERNA That's exactly what he said, and then he walked out. He hasn't taken it back either or said anything about it. We haven't had a chance to talk for very long since then, but he has seen me at work and hasn't apologized. He's been acting like if nothing happened.

DOTTIE I think you better stay away from him. He sounds like bad news.

VERNA I know but I'm not sure how easy that will be. I don't think he's going to want to let go very easily.

DOTTIE How serious have you gotten with Mark?

VERNA I haven't known him for very long, but I got to like him more and more as we went out. I can't wait until he gets back.

You know, one thing that I think bothers Matthew is confidence in himself. As a lover, I mean. I think he is very afraid of rejection. I'm sure it has happened many times before. You see he's got a physical abnormality. It's not exactly an abnormality, but it's something that gets in the way. I don't know how his wife handles it. I haven't had intercourse with him because of it. He wants to but I won't let him.

DOTTIE What's wrong with him?

VERNA I'm scared of him. His thing is very long, and it is really big around. I mean, it's just enormous. I'm afraid he'll hurt me especially since I'm so small. We get naked and do a lot of things, and I enjoy them, but I don't want to go all the way. I think he has probably had this problem before with other girls. They must have rejected him before because of it. I bet he's very sensitive about rejection and that's why he is so jealous. It's insecurity.

He said he loved me and that he was willing to marry me even if we never had intercourse. He said we could spend time in bed and that he could masturbate in front of me instead of intercourse.

DOTTIE I don't know how that would work out.

VERNA I don't either.

DOTTIE Is it really that long?

VERNA Yes, it is.

DOTTIE Just how long is it?

(Verna tries to show the approximate length by holding up her two index fingers in the air. The length appears to be about a foot. The camera fades out on the astonished look on Dottie's face.)

Next there is a commercial break. One of them is a detergent advertisement in which a mother shows her son how to do his laundry and then tells him gruffly to do his own the next time.

115

You think about how frank the soap operas have become. You had heard this was happening but didn't imagine it had gone this far.

Several scenes are shown next involving minor characters with which you are not too familiar. You have trouble understanding much of what they are talking about, but you are slowly picking it up. The last one involves Verna and Dottie again. They are talking in Dottie's living room.

VERNA I found out today I'm pregnant. I got tested, but I didn't tell you anything about it yesterday when I saw you because I didn't think it was possible. I was being very careful.

DOTTIE You can't ever be sure.

VERNA I know.

DOTTIE So what are you going to do?

VERNA I don't know. I'm feeling very confused. That's why I wanted you to come over. I needed to talk to someone.

DOTTIE Don't worry. Everything will be all right.

VERNA The thing is I'm not sure who the father is. I had been having a lot of fun for awhile and seeing several guys, but lately it's only been Matthew and Mark. I'm pretty sure Mark and I hadn't done anything at the time that I supposedly got pregnant, and of course, Matthew couldn't be the one.

DOTTIE Matthew doesn't know anything about it, does he?

VERNA Oh, no.

DOTTIE Are you sure it couldn't be one of the guys you were seeing before?

VERNA I don't think so. I've been trying hard to remember, but it doesn't seem like it could be. Let's see there was Jerry, but I stopped seeing him in June. There was Eddie, but I stopped dating him even before I stopped seeing Jerry. I saw this guy named Mike for a couple of months, but the last time with him was in May. I also stopped seeing Walter in May. There was . . . . "

(The doorbell rings. Both Verna and Dottie seem surprised. Verna does not move at first, but then finally moves to open the door. She opens it and finds Matthew standing there. He doesn't say anything but only stands there without moving. He has a grim look on his face. The camera fades out on a closeup of his face.)

After the soap opera is over, you go out to walk around the Lincoln Memorial and other well-known government buildings. Cathy is working so you go alone. It is cold and cloudy so there are not many tourists out. You had been in Washington before but had only been passing through and had not had any time to see anything.

You got a good sleep last night but your head feels funny. You still feel like you're under some kind of spell. After you come out of the Capitol Building where Congress convenes, you start walking down the long flight of stairs. You don't notice it at first, but then you see men standing all around--at the top of the stairs, in the middle, and at the bottom of the stairs. All of them are dressed in suits. Some of them are coming out of the Capitol Building.

There are a number of especially well-dressed men in the crowd with very expensive-looking three-piece suits, Gucci shoes, gold watch chains. These men are also holding briefcases. Most of them have more than one briefcase. They hold one but have more at their feet. These briefcases are full of money and the fancily-dressed men are handing it out freely and rapidly to all the other men who are taking it eagerly and stuffing it in their pockets. Some of the bills are being blown all over the stairs by the wind, but nobody seems to care. There is plenty more in the briefcases. Everyone is laughing jovially and having a great time.

You can't understand what it is all about. It seems too strange to be true. You figure you better go back to the apartment, take some Valium and maybe get some more sleep if you can. You wonder why you are having all these strange experiences on this trip. You never imagined there were such strange things going on. Maybe somebody is causing them in order to torment you.

That night you go see Halloween along with Cathy and some of her same friends you met the night before. The movie is very scary and it leaves you rattled. When you return to the apartment, you get into a long conversation with Morgan whom you barely talked to the night before. Morgan is generally quiet and soft-spoken.

MORGAN Where are you going from here? Back home?

YOU No, I don't think so. I think I'm going to visit my parents. I hadn't planned to, but I feel like it now. I'm not completely sure I will. I probably won't decide until just before I leave.

MORGAN Where do they live?

YOU In a little town in Maine known as Center Lovell.

MORGAN That's a long way off. They've been having some heavy snowstorms up there.

YOU I know but I'm used to them. I grew up in Maine. Besides there have been some pretty bad ones down here. I went through one in Tennessee.

MORGAN When are you leaving?

YOU Either tomorrow or the day after.

Cathy puts on calm music and low lights and makes sure everyone has plenty of wine. One couple starts necking. After talking some more with Morgan and then with Cathy, you go into your room to get ready for bed.

Just before you go to bed, you turn the lights out and look out the window. You see two men going by talking and laughing. They look drunk because one of them keeps taking hold of the metal railing next to the sidewalk. You then notice that they are walking with each one having an arm around the other. Then you start seeing more of them. Men with their arms around each other. They start appearing out of nowhere on different parts of the street. Some are alone, some are in pairs holding hands or with their arms around each other, some are in groups. Some are well-dressed, some are wearing old faded blue jeans, some are rich, some poor, some young, some old and worn down, some good-looking, some not. More and more of them keep appearing. They are all over, and they are acting very strangely. Some of them rub each other lasciviously, some slither lecherously along railings, lampposts, walls, garbage cans. You feel nauseated. You close the curtain quickly. Cathy gave you some quaaludes, and you take a couple to help you go to sleep.

You've been asleep several hours. There is a loud noise at the door. You hear it again. It is coming from the door. It sounds like someone is pounding hard on the door. You feel terrified. Who could it be at this time? How did they get in the house? Is Cathy hearing it? Is she awake? Did they already get her?

You want to say something. You want to ask who it is. You want to yell for Cathy, for anyone, for help. The pounding continues slow, steady and loud. You want to scream, you have to but you can't get a sound out--not even a whisper. Your vocal chords seem paralyzed. You can hardly move. Your body feels very weary and almost completely paralyzed. You can't understand what is happening to it. You have to do something but you can't. The door is breaking down now. You can see the splinters starting to come through. They must be hitting it very hard to be breaking it down. You don't know how many of them there are. You don't hear anything from the other side except the pounding. You then see an axe blade coming through the door. No wonder the noise was so loud. The axe is cutting much more quickly now that a hole has been opened.

120

For the first time you notice that the door is covered with very wide strips of red tape going horizontally across it. The axe is cutting right through the door with no problem. The cutting stops just long enough for part of a face to appear on the other side of the hole. It is dark outside the room so you can hardly see. Mostly what you are able to see is a sharp looking eye. The person goes back to chopping away at the door. She/he is not frantic or desperate. She/he is working steadily and deliberately.

The hole in the door keeps getting bigger. It won't be long before the person will be able to get in, but you've still got time. You've got to move. Your body is feeling more free now and starting to move. You start to get up. You could go out the window. The room is on the second story so you can jump and probably won't get too badly hurt. Any injury will be better than getting chopped to bloody death. The blood would be hard to clean up.

The axe is still chopping steadily, the tape around the hole shredded into thin strips and bits. You try but you can't get up very far. Your body feels strong and is moving freely, but you aren't getting anywhere. There is something wrong with the bed. You start to rise but immediately sink back in. It's a mushy feeling like being in soft Jello or a waterbed you can't get out of.

The person keeps chopping with the axe and is making steady progress. You can see his whole head now. It looks like a man, but it's too dark to tell anything for sure. This reminds you of The Shining when Jack Nicholson was chopping down the door to get at his wife and kid.

You try with all your strength to move but get nowhere. The bed keeps sucking you in. As far as you can get is to raise your head and shoulders slightly, but you can't go beyond that. You spread your arms across the bed and try with all your might to raise up on your elbows but you can't. It's a terrifying feeling! The pounding of the axe doesn't stop.

Will you get up on time? It doesn't look like you're going to make it out of this trap of mush. The only chance left is for somebody to come. You start yelling, "Help, help! Somebody help." Maybe Cathy will be able to do something. Maybe someone next door will hear or even somebody passing outside although at this time of night there probably aren't too many people out there. You keep yelling but nobody comes. You keep trying to get out of bed but can't. You can feel your muscles getting tired and your lungs getting short of breath from the exertion as well as the terror. Surely by now Cathy would have heard and done something. She would have surely heard the pounding a long time ago. Maybe she's dead now. The axe got to her first and you never heard her screaming.

The axe pounding stops. The hole is very big now. Big enough to walk through. Slowly the person comes though the hole--first the left foot, then the right. You can't see if she/he has the axe because his/her hand is behind him/her. You try harder than ever to get up. You are using all your power. It is so frustrating. You rear up higher than ever but still can't get out of the bed. You keep on yelling, "Help, somebody help!" It's automatic now. You have to do whatever you can. These may be your final seconds.

The person is tall. Now you see the axe as s/he brings it along his/her right thigh. His/her right arm is straight down by his/her side and is holding the axe horizontally with the right hand behind the metal head. S/he is walking slowly and deliberately. S/he seems to know you are not going anywhere. No need to raise the axe yet. You can see the head better and it definitely looks like a man. As he gets closer, it appears he is old, like in his late 60's. He is not bad-looking, but he has flesh sagging down from his front neck. You notice that he intermittently flashes a big smile, but then returns to a normal, more serious look. His head trembles very slightly from side to side. When he gets very close, there is enough light on his face to get a good look. You can't believe what you see. It is the President of the United States.

12

It is cold with gray clouds covering the entire sky. It has been snowing lightly but steadily for the last hour. A large home stands silhouetted against the light, snowy sky. It is an old, elegant mansion in the suburbs of Washington, D.C. that stands completely dark. It is encircled all the way around by a large amount of land covered with grass and numerous trees with jagged branches that seem to be standing in fearful watch over everything. The property is surrounded by a tall iron fence. There is a large stone arch at the entrance with a heavy iron gate. A dog is heard barking in the distance. It reminds you so much of the dark castles that appear in the horror movies and books you like. You remember Frankenstein and House on Haunted Hill.

An old, rusty car drives up very slowly. It does not drive up to the gate but stops on the road about 500 feet from it. Two dark, bulky figures emerge from the car carefully. It is too dark and hazy to get a very good look at them. They go to the gate and stop. They look at the house and surrounding property, inspecting everything very carefully. One of them takes out a long tool. They take hold of the lock to the gate. The tool is a bolt cutter, which does the job of cutting the lock after a short struggle. The two men open the heavy door slowly. A piercing screech comes from the unoiled hinges. The intruders try to avoid the noise but cannot. They open the door just enough to squeeze through. They make their way to the old mansion, all the time staying off the driveway and moving surreptitiously along the trees and bushes on the side of the road. As they move in, they keep looking around in all directions. When they get to the house, they go around to the right side and disappear momentarily. They appear again carrying a long ladder. It looks as if they knew where it was and had perhaps placed it there themselves at some previous time. They place the top of the ladder quietly next to a second story window and begin to climb up. They are as quiet as possible.

Near the top of the ladder, they can be seen better against the light colored clouds above. The first man is the one who wears the Darth Vader mask and helmet, the second one wears the shark head. The man with the Darth Vader helmet has his black clothes on, which look very thin especially for such cold weather. They look like pajamas. The man with the shark head is above the other one on the ladder. He reaches the top of the ladder next to the window, looks in for a few seconds, takes a gun from his jacket pocket and takes a large flashlight from the other pocket. He holds both the gun and flashlight deftly in one hand. He turns the flashlight on and points it through the window. He then breaks the window quickly with the flashlight, points the gun inside, and yells, "Don't move."

125

After a pause, he puts the gun on the ledge and unlatches and opens the window. He goes in followed by the other man who struggles going in the window because of his missing arm. They do not turn on any lights inside but find their way only with the aid of the flashlight, which throws eerie shadows on the walls. There is a large bed not far from the window. A man is lying in it who appears very frightened. He is now wide awake with fear. He looks to be in his 60's and is slender and handsome. He doesn't say anything.

After the two men enter, the one with the Darth Vader helmet stands next to the bed in between it and the window. The other man walks to the other side of the bed. Both of them hold pistols in their hands.

"We've been trying to see you, Senator Rackley," the first man says in a serious, partly sarcastic tone. He points the light in the Senator's face most of the time.

"Were you the ones who called?" the Senator asks in a trembling voice. He sounds relieved to finally speak.

"Yes," the first one answers.

"What is it you want?" the Senator asks in fearful consternation.

"Nothing, Senator. We only want to talk about some matters in the past," the first one answers.

"We came at this time to make sure we wouldn't have any interruptions," the second one mentions. He speaks English with an accent that is more thick and from a different nationality than the first one.

"That's right, Senator,'' the first one speaks in a laughing tone. "We knew it would be nice and peaceful at 3 o'clock in the morning. We also waited to come tonight because we knew your wife was leaving yesterday for several days, and we didn't want to disturb her. As you can see, we are really very thoughtful." As the first man continues to talk, he gesticulates often with his one hand. He continues, "We want to talk to you about certain situations in which your country was involved in the past. We are especially alarmed at some of the attitudes and policies that you as a U.S. senator supported. You were in favor of the Vietnam War although it is true you expressed some doubts about it. You often said more information was needed and that the Johnson administration was not providing enough information about actual conditions in South Vietnam. Yet, the information you wanted was readily available from other sources. What happened is that you simply did not want to take the trouble to find out what was really going on and what the historical background was for the intervention. You had the responsibility to become much better informed and you know it."

SENATOR I . . . I admit I should have tried harder at the time to understand the entire situation, but it was very confusing. Besides I was trusting that the generals and the administration were giving us all the necessary information and that it was making the proper decisions.

SECOND MAN But now, now there is nothing being said about Vietnam. The only things said are the things that Vietnam is doing bad like being in Cambodia.

FIRST MAN There has been very little serious discussion in the country of what went wrong. There have been no Congressional hearings on what happened and how to avoid future mistakes. The same is true of Iran. Once the hostages were returned, there was nothing more said about what caused it all and why the Iranians had been so mad.

SENATOR As you know, we have been very concerned with other problems--both domestic and foreign--that take up much of our time. As soon as one crisis is over, we have to concern ourselves with one or more others. As far as Iran was concerned, you should be aware that I did not take a hard-line attitude but instead favored peaceful diplomacy as much as possible.

FIRST MAN That's a lie. You didn't take a hard-line attitude once you saw that approach wasn't going to work, especially after the unsuccessful attempt by the American helicopters. Before that you made statements in which you called for "tough measures" and you mentioned doing 'whatever we have to in protecting our national interests.' You didn't point out exactly what you meant by those things, but it was clear you weren't talking about peaceful means. If the invasion force had gone further, it could have caused the deaths of half the hostages. It was only after that, that most of the tough talkers like you backed down and started talking about peaceful negotiations.

SENATOR I think you make some good points, and I agree we have to examine some of these issues. I, for one, will start looking into ways of bringing these issues into public awareness. I promise.

FIRST MAN (with an anger which grows gradually more intense) I don't believe you. If you meant it, you would have done something long ago. You know you won't do anything. You are only saying it to get us out of your house. Even if you did speak up, it wouldn't do any good and you know it. People would only laugh at you and continue as usual.

We have to do something more dramatic than that, Senator Rackley. Something that will be more likely to catch the attention of more people. Maybe then people will start thinking about what we've been talking with more seriousness. We don't have anything against you personally, Senator. We chose you at random out of several other members of Congress who have a similar record and similar beliefs and who have been in since the Vietnam era. What we have decided to do that will get attention is to do some cutting on you, Senator. We will cut your tongue out. That will be an example that people should keep quiet when they do not know what they are talking about and that they should speak up when it is their duty. (The first man then puts his gun away and takes out a large pair of scissors carried in a sheath next to his chest.)

SENATOR RACKLEY No, you're not serious. This won't get you anywhere. It won't do your cause any good. It will only make most people angry and terrified, and they won't even consider the issues you want them to face. That's the way it always happens.

FIRST MAN You have a good point. We know that, but it's our only chance. People aren't thinking about these things now anyway, and if we do this, they still probably won't think about them but it's a chance at least. The first man slowly twists the shiny scissors in his hand and moves to the side of Senator Rackley's head. "Move in and point your gun at his head ," he tells the other man.

"This is ridiculous," exclaims Senator Rackley in a low but horrified tone.

The first man tells the Senator, "He'll be pointing that gun at your head and if you move too much, he'll have to shoot."

With that the second one comes to the side of the bed and puts the barrel of his gun right up to the Senator's left temple. He aims the flashlight beam right at the Senator's head.

The first one gets on top of Senator Rackley's chest crosswise with his right knee across the Senator's chest and his left one across his neck. "Open your mouth wide," he yells at Rackley sternly. "The easier you make it for us, the less pain there will be." Rackley opens his mouth slowly.

130

The first man sticks the scissors into his mouth, and Rackley pulls his head to his left. He stops when he feels the barrel of the gun against his head. After that he keeps his head still but keeps moving his tongue instinctively trying to avoid the scissor blades. The pressure of the knee across his neck makes his tongue stick out more easily.

The man with the scissors states, "O.K. We were not going so far as to cut out your tongue, but we will do this." He then starts cutting the Senator's hair and keeps going around his head until he has cut it short all the way around.

13

"Believe me," you insist. "That was the way it happened before. I'm telling you the truth."

"We hear stories like this all the time," the police officer answers. "We can't go by things people tell us like this."

"All I'm saying is that the Washington police can be informed on this and put up extra surveillance," you point out. "It wouldn't be that much more work."

"Police departments have more than enough work as it is," he replies, "and with cities cutting back on their budgets all the time, they aren't hiring enough officers."

"At least Senator Rackley could be warned. That wouldn't hurt," you claim.

"No, but Senator Rackley might just laugh at the whole idea and not want to take any extra precautions."

"I laughed at the vision I had about that author being attacked in Florida by those two men. Then it really happened and exactly like I had seen it. I decided this time I had to tell the police so that maybe it can be avoided."

"Well, we'll make a report and send it through the proper channels, but I can't guarantee that the Washington police will be able to do anything about it. I sure hope they can, just in case you're right. Now tell me the whole story again. You said it happened at 3 in the morning on a night when the Senator's wife was out of town?"

"Yes." You give the reporting officer the story once more. This is the third time you tell the story since you arrived here at the Pittsburgh police station. The first time you told the whole story to the young officer at the front desk. It was 2 A.M. and he obviously thought you had been drinking or were on drugs. It took a long time to convince him that you were perfectly normal and perfectly serious with your story. You had taken two quaaludes, but that had been many hours before and the effect had worn off. Cathy sold you some quaaludes. "Everybody takes them these days, not just for trips," she said. "You need them just to get through the day."

After you finished explaining everything to the young policeman at the front desk, he sent you to this older lieutenant who told you about how he had been on the force for many years and had heard countless stories from people and that the police could not always base their course of action on such stories. You told him the entire story and the previous vision you had about that author. He kept making objections and expressing doubts about your story.

"Like I said before," he said, "it's going to be harder for anyone to believe your story since you came to Pittsburgh to tell it instead of going straight to the Washington, D.C. police with it."

"I told you why I did it," you replied with irritation. "I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. I was very scared. I didn't want to take any chances in those men catching me. I'm afraid they're after me, too. These visions are warnings to me from them. They are coming to get me if they can."

"And why would they be out to get you in particular?" the lieutenant asked with a look of annoyed skepticism.

"I don't know. I'm not sure about it, but I have a very strong feeling."

"And why did you come through Pittsburgh if you're going to Maine? There are much more direct routes," he pointed out.

"I want to confuse them by taking unexpected routes," you told him.

He shrugged his shoulders and sent you to the officer that made the report.

Another important reason that you came is that you wanted to go through West Virginia in order to buy a gun. It was a cheap gun. You didn't want anything very fancy, just something with which to defend yourself and something that could be hidden easily. After buying the gun in Hancock, you decided to come through Pittsburgh.

After you finish at the police station, you get on the freeway to Buffalo. You are glad to leave Pittsburgh with all the smoke from its steel mills in the air. The buildings and factories look old and depressing especially on this cloudy day. It snows intermittently on the road to Buffalo making the road dangerous in parts. You pass three cars on the side of the highway that were involved in an accident. The state police are already on the scene, and the cars have moved to the side of the road.

You are feeling more uncomfortable than ever before on this trip. That last vision didn't help your mind at all. The first part of your stay in Washington was relaxing and enjoyable. It made you forget your problems, but it got bad after you went to see that movie Halloween. After that, there was the nightmare about the President.

You can't get away from the terror. Maybe it won't be so bad in Maine since it is in a far off corner. You want to travel through Buffalo and upstate New York because there will be less traffic. You want to stop at a friend's place in Buffalo and stay for the night. Horace Walpole is another old college classmate. You aren't as close to Horace as you are to Cathy, but you still know each other fairly well.

You tried to get in touch with him from a pay phone at the police station in Pittsburgh, but there was no answer. He may be away on vacation, but you are going to look him up anyway. You aren't planning to stay long, probably overnight, and you'll be gone by noon tomorrow.

You can't forget that last vision about that Senator and what it might mean to you. You try to remember what they were talking about. They didn't talk for long. You have to admit that you still don't know much of what happened in either Vietnam or Iran. It was always very confusing. You don't see why it matters that much anyway.

You drive through an old industrial area to get to Horace's house. Buffalo looks much like Pittsburgh--old, sooted buildings, worn streets, dirty alleys, cracked sidewalks. Some of the factories have closed down, high unemployment, people leaving, heading South.

135

It is dark on the block where Horace lives. There is a lamppost, but the light in it is out. You park the car and look in every direction before you get out. You get out of the door quietly so no potential muggers will hear you. You walk down the sidewalk and make a loud noise as you trip on a raised part of the sidewalk. You look around to see if anyone heard, but there is no one. You walk carefully up the steps of the rented house where Horace lives because it is very hard to see and there is snow and ice from the last few days. The house is completely dark. You ring the doorbell. While you wait, you look around the dark corners in the porch to make sure no one is lurking there. You ring the doorbell several times more, but no answer. It's too early for him to have gone to bed. Must have gone out. You'll check later.

You walk carefully and quietly back down the stairs and back to the car. It feels very strange being all alone in this town. You've never been in Buffalo before. You found Horace's place by looking at the street map very carefully. You always were good at using maps and enjoyed finding your way around with them.

You don't know anybody else in this entire big city--not a soul. For all you know, Horace isn't even in town. You get this very lonely feeling. You hadn't felt this way on the entire trip. You've felt exhausted and terrified, but there hasn't been much time to feel lonely. You feel it now. It has to do with the thought that there is no one else you can seek out in this city. You are alone. That hadn't hit you as hard as it did now.

You decide to go downtown while you wait for Horace. You want to be where there will be crowds of people. You drive around looking for a good area. You can't find any place that looks like what you had in mind so you park the car and get out to walk around. There are people on the streets but they all seem in a hurry. You have to watch carefully that you don't slip on the icy streets and sidewalks. You're not used to it so you have to be more careful than most people. A person gets good at walking on ice when he gets the chance to do it often.

You spot a young black man walking on the other side of the street. He is staring at you or at least it seems like it to you. He is big and suspicious-looking. You decide not to take any chances and duck into a drugstore where you can stay for a while. Hopefully he'll be gone by the time you leave.

You go to the magazine rack to kill some time. You often get caught up looking through the magazines for a long time in a drugstore. There are many magazines but not much of interest to you. There are still the left over magazines from the football season plus the ones for the new basketball season and others on boxing and wrestling and racing along with Sports Illustrated and Inside Sports. Then there are all the car magazines and the ones like Guns & Ammo and Hunting. There are Cosmopolitan and New Woman with the usual cover picture of the beautiful model with the low neckline. It is interesting how the men's magazines always have a sexy girl on the front, but the women's magazines never have men on the cover. Instead they also have sexy females on the front. A male friend of yours pointed out how that proves women are narcissistic.

Then there are the movie magazines talking about Shaun Cassidy's latest flame and about what Bo Derek and John Derek have been doing lately. Every time you've seen Bo Derek doing an interview, her husband John has always been there. It looks like they feel he has to be there to field the tough questions.

After looking quickly through some of the magazines and some of the paperbacks on the revolving book stand like The Rich and the Beautiful, you try to go out on the street again. You walk slowly and look around to see if the young black is still on the other side of the street or anywhere else for that matter. You don't see him anywhere. You feel relieved but you still have to be careful.

You probably were being overly fearful of him, but he did look suspicious. It's better to overreact than to let your guard down. You start to feel bad about being fearful of violence from blacks, and you wonder if it might not still indicate that you are prejudiced. But the fact is that blacks are responsible for a greater proportion of the street crime so you've got good reason to be more afraid of them.

You come up to a Greyhound bus station and notice that it has many people. It looks like a time when there are many buses scheduled to arrive and depart. There are long lines at some gates. You go in, glad to find a place with as many people as this. You take a walk around slowly looking over the scene.

There are middle-aged couples dressed in clean, casual clothing. There are younger couples usually dressed in more rumpled clothes and blue jeans. They bring along small children. Many people are wearing cowboy boots. There are retired people off to visit relatives and friends . . . . trying to enjoy their last years. There are young vagabonds--the kind that used to be called hippies--traveling the road who managed to scrimp up enough money to go on the bus rather than hitchhiking. Solitary creatures trying to find a thread in their lives. Some people are sitting in the middle of the room at seats that have pay television sets attached to the front of their armrests. Put in several quarters in the slot, and they get to sit and watch the tube. Won't have to miss their favorite shows even if they are on the road. Keep watching as long as they keep putting money in the machine. Some of the ones watching the TV's stare at the sets numbly but keep on watching. It beats doing nothing. People take luggage in and out of the rows of metal lockers in the bus terminal. A sloppily dressed woman passes in front of you leading a retarded, spastic boy who periodically lets out short, loud squeals for no apparent reason. He keeps looking at the high ceiling.

A family with three small children comes and stands in front of you. They are talking with some anxiety. They look and talk as if they could be Puerto Rican or Cuban. They speak only in Spanish.

"Quien sabe donde estaran," the father says looking across the room moving his head in different directions as if trying to find a specific area like the ticket counter.

"Tiene que haber," the woman says with a bewildered look. "Que no es ese?"

"No, ese no es. Estoy seguro," he replies. "No podre hablar ingles, pero estoy seguro que ese letrero no dice nada de sanitarios."

You realize that they are looking for the restrooms but can't find them because they can't read any English. A frightful circumstance. One of the kids looks very uncomfortable.

"Alla," you interject yourself into their conversation and point in the proper direction. They are startled by your interruption but even more by the fact that you can speak Spanish. They looked at you when they first stood there but probably never imagined you could speak Spanish.

"Gracias," the man says after he recovers. They go off immediately.

You get that desolate feeling again. There are all these faces that you've never seen before and don't know. You have the deep desire to reach out to someone, to talk to somebody. It wouldn't matter what you talked about as long it helped get rid of this empty feeling. Some simple human contact would go a long way. You might even decide to tell someone about your experiences, about your frightful dilemma.

You are surrounded by this sea of faces. You would think that by itself would help you feel better but no, instead you feel even worse. Not being able to get close to someone and yet there are so many someones. Then you have to admit you feel an anger and hostility toward these people. You feel an envy toward the ones that look happy and carefree. The ones with family or friends that keep talking and laughing. They don't have to feel like you.

If you did talk to someone, would you tell them what is going on with you? You feel an urge that is more desperate than ever. No, you probably wouldn't mention it. They probably would think you were crazy. Call the police to come have you picked up. Or they might report it to a newspaper or television station, and you would come out in the news and receive a lot of publicity. Then those men would be able to find you. Or it could even be one of them that you would talk to in the first place.

140

You go to a drinking fountain and quietly take some Valium. Maybe it will help. It doesn't look like anybody saw you taking the pills. You don't want anyone to see you even though you got the pills on prescription. You remember the quaaludes you have. You want to take some of those, too. You walk around the terminal a little more and try to look very natural and nonchalant. In a few minutes, you go back to the drinking fountain and quickly pop some quaaludes.

You go from there to the restroom. Before leaving it, you look at yourself. You look different . . . . worn down. Haven't been eating too well. You wash your face with a paper towel . . . . comb your hair. You find dandruff on the shoulders of your jacket and whisk it off. You wonder how long it had been there. Had very many people seen it? You'll have to remember to check your shoulders more often and to wash your hair tonight.

You walk around the terminal. Some more waiting for a good opportunity to talk to someone but it never comes. You can't get rid of your corrosive feeling for a long time. You see one or two more blacks who look like the one you saw earlier on the street, but neither of them is the one. Like many other black men, they look alienated and a little disdainful.

You go to the pay phones and give Horace another call. You let it ring for a long time but no answer. You are getting hungry now. Haven't eaten all day. You think you have enough cash for supper, but you'll have to ask Horace to lend you some money--before you leave Buffalo. You hate to borrow, but it looks like you have no choice. You've never been the kind that asks friends to lend you money. You've never liked that, but then you've never been in a situation like this before.

You are feeling very hungry now. You didn't see any restaurants near the bus terminal, but you weren't looking very hard so you might have missed one. You don't think you would like the food served in the terminal. You remember seeing a place where you would like to eat when you were coming into town on the expressway. It was a pizza place, and you are feeling a craving for pizza now. You will have to drive several miles away from downtown, but it doesn't matter. It will help kill some time.

You go back out to the street to go back to the car. There are still many people walking along the sidewalks. You keep looking around to keep track of everyone. A car door suddenly swings open. It is in a car right in front of you, and the door swings over the sidewalk. If you had been a few steps ahead, it would have hit you. You stop right in your tracks not knowing what to expect. Your breath stops and then you hear your heart pounding fast. A woman looks at you startled. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't even see you. I'm sorry," she says very apologetically.

"That's O. K.," you manage to answer. The sound of your voice gives away how surprised you were. The woman rises from the car slowly. She is overweight and about 50 years old. Her husband gets out of the other car door. They are probably going to pick someone up at the terminal.

You get to your car without any further incident. As you try to find your way back to the expressway, you realize it might be hard. You try to find signs directing you back to the highway but you can't. You thought you saw a pizza joint around here when you were coming in but can't remember where it was. You keep looking. You are bound to find one eventually. Just as long as you don't wind up in some bad neighborhood, everything will be O.K. It is very cold. It must already be below 30 degrees even though it is only 8:30 P.M. It looks like snow tonight. The clouds are heavy and low. They are brightly illuminated with the lights of the city.

After several minutes of searching for the way to the New York Thruway, you realize you are lost. You fear you couldn't even find your way back to the bus terminal, and it looks like you're in a bad neighborhood. You may be wrong. The situation may be getting the best of your nerves, but the area doesn't look too safe. It's a residential area, but the houses look run down. There is trash in the streets. Just as long as the car doesn't break down, everything should be O.K. You should be able to find your way out eventually as long as you don't wind up in a worse neighborhood. It would be easier if you could ask directions from someone, but you aren't about to stop anyone in the middle of these dark streets. You are hoping no one will notice you are alone and lost. The streets are empty, but it's your luck that you would run into a gang of young hoodlums.

You eventually find a large street that is well lit. Farther down it looks like there is a commercial area and you head in that direction. You eventually come to some stores and restaurants, but they are already closed. You see a couple of bars, but you would rather not stop there. Further down on the right side, you see a service station and stop there. There is only a young boy about 20 on duty. He comes out of the garage where he was cleaning and washing the floors. He is wearing a jacket that looks too light for the freezing temperature, but he looks warm enough with the work he is doing.

"Fill it up, please," you tell him. It's one of those few remaining old-fashioned stations that doesn't have self-serve pumps. You still have half a tank to go, but you know you might as well put in gas now. After he finishes, you ask him to check the oil. He lifts the hood and takes out the oil dipstick.

You get out of the car to go see what he is doing and to tell him, "I've been hearing some strange noises for the last few days from under here." You look around at the engine and other parts to see if you can spot anything unusual. The truth is you don't know what you're looking for. You don't know much about cars except how to check the oil. Luckily for him, he has good gloves on, but you didn't bring any so you don't touch anything. You mostly sight check.

"ls your radiator fan all right?" he asks and takes a look at it. "It looks like it's in good shape. Did the sound stay on or can you only hear it sometimes?"

"It only comes sometimes. It's a rattling sound," you answer.

"Has the car been running all right? Any problems?"

"No, it's been fine. It starts right away and runs smooth. I'm just worried that noise is serious, and the car will stop running later in the middle of nowhere."

"I wouldn't worry about it," he reassures. "As long as it's been running all right, it probably doesn't mean anything. Maybe a paper got caught underneath."

"I hope that's all it was." He lowers the hood as you back away and reach for your Mobil credit card, which you have been using often. You hate the thought of what the monthly charge will look like.

A strong breeze comes through and gives you a painful chill. Your legs feel it the most. It feels as if you were wearing shorts only. The wind makes a metal sign, advertising Quaker State motor oil, turn on the hooks it hangs on. It screeches loudly.

The young man goes inside with the credit card and you follow him to get out of the cold. There is a machine inside with assorted snacks, and you buy some potato chips. You remember the real reason you stopped here in the first place.

"Can you tell me how to get to the New York Thruway from here?" you ask.

"Keep going down the road this way," he says pointing to the right, which is the same direction in which you were heading.

"How far down the road is it?"

"Oh, I think it's a couple of miles," he speculates with a slightly wrinkled brow. "I'm not sure. I'm not real familiar with this area around here. I live way south of here."

"Do you know if this street leads right to the Thruway, or will I have to take some other streets before I can get on it?"

"I don't know for sure," he replies. "I think I've heard them say you have to take some turns on some other streets. I think there are some signs up there that tell you where to go. I wish I could tell you better, but I never go that way. I don't think you'll have any problem."

You get going not feeling very confident of finding the Thruway with the directions he gave. You'll keep driving and hopefully find the signs that lead to it. It is starting to snow lightly now. You hope the snow won't get too heavy to see clearly. You're worried enough that you will miss the signs as it is. With the falling snow, visibility could be much worse. You drive slowly and look carefully for signs at intersections. You keep driving for what seems a very long time. You would think you would have run into signs by now, but maybe it is just your imagination and you haven't gone that far.

145

You spot what could be a sign ahead. It has a small arrow pointing to the left. When you get closer, you see that it says HOSPITAL. You keep driving wondering what to do. There aren't very many stores on this street, and those few are closed. No one from whom to ask directions.

You see another sign ahead that has an arrow pointing to the left. Probably another hospital, you figure. You come close enough to find out it actually says New York State Thruway. You turn at the intersection and drive slowly to look for further signs. It is snowing harder now, but it is still possible to see. There is no sign on the first block you enter. On the second block, there is simply a sign with an arrow pointing straight ahead. You keep driving for four more blocks and start thinking there should be a sign now. It is dark all around. It is not a residential area, but instead there are large, old buildings dark against the night that look like warehouses. The streets are not well lit, and there are many dark shadows around the buildings. You don't want to miss a sign.

One block later there is a sign with an arrow to the right. You make the turn. Suddenly out of the corner of your right eye, you see a light flash. You turn startled. It is a small light darting around on the side of a building. That is all you can distinguish in the dark. You have no idea what it could be. As you pass on, you get a different angle and see that it is a flashlight being swung back and forth by a man. You wonder if he is motioning to you. You slow down unconsciously. You want to get away, and yet you want to see what he wants. You then see that he is wearing a uniform and a cap. It is a security guard. He turns to his left and keeps walking his round.

Two blocks later you finally reach the Thruway. You feel a huge weight come off your shoulders. You drive on it slowly to avoid skidding on the wet, slippery pavement. The highway maintenance crews have not put down any salt yet.

You eventually get to the place you had seen. It is called Trimalchio's Pizza Banquet. It is a large place and there are many cars in the parking lot so you figure it must be O.K. if it has that much business. As you walk from your car to the door of Trimalchio's, you notice a car with a bumper sticker that has a phrase you've been hearing lately-- REARM AMERICA.

You go into the place and it looks almost full. It looks like people are having a good time. You hadn't thought of it before with all the problems of finding the Thruway and with the slippery pavement, but you realize you might stick out like a sore thumb. You'll have to sit there all alone while everybody else is laughing and enjoying themselves with their friends and families and sweethearts. They'll stare at you strangely and feel uncomfortable to see you eating alone. They'll feel sorry for you and wonder why you couldn't find anyone to come with you. They will think it is very sad. You will feel embarrassed and will regret having come at all. You won't even be able to enjoy your meal. You wait a little longer for the hostess to come to give you a table. It looks like she and the waitresses are very busy. You just hope she has the good sense not to put you at a table in the middle of the room. She finally comes up and asks in a friendly manner, "A party of one?"

"Yes," you answer readily.

"Come this way, please," she tells you as she walks to the right. You are very glad and very relieved that she is acting very naturally. You were expecting her to be a little startled to find that you came alone. Instead she seemed very sensitive about any possible discomfort you might have and asked you how many people there were in a very thoughtful way. She could have asked something that would have sounded worse and other people might have heard, like "Are you alone?" or "How many people in your party?"

She takes you to a small table in a booth in the corner of the room. It is quiet and out of the sight of most people although you have the chance to look at everyone else in the room if you want by merely moving your head. "Thank you very much," you tell the hostess trying to communicate your sincere appreciation.

It takes twenty minutes before your order is brought to you, but it doesn't matter that much to you because you want to kill plenty of time. You feel much less self-conscious than when you arrived and are enjoying yourself just watching the people. Most of them are talking calmly and easily with those around them. There is one long table almost in the middle of the room that is filled mostly with men and is making a lot of noise. Everyone of them is drunk and getting more rowdy by the minute. The women are not as loud but are laughing and enjoying the festivities very much.

As you eat your pepperoni and olive pizza and drink a glass of beer, the waitress continues to bring pizzas and beer to the rowdy table. They have consumed heavily as you can see by the empty tin pizza pie plates on their table. You can also see by the waistlines of many of the people at the table that they do this kind of thing often. Some of the pizza plates are still partly filled with pizza, but the people aren't eating from them anymore. Apparently they don't want it because it has gotten cold so they keep ordering more. The volume of noise from their table keeps rising. They start to spill beer from their glasses as they pour into them from the pitchers or as they present toasts as they are doing more and more.

A couple of them are so drunk that they drop the slices of pizza they have been eating on the floor. They laugh it off and grab other slices. Then in passing a pizza pan from one end of the table to the other, one man gets it very quickly knocked out of his hand as another one gets up suddenly and hits it with his elbow. The man who has it in his hand is not alert and does not react very quickly so the pizza goes all the way to the floor face down. It had just been brought to the table moments before so the pan was full. Everybody at the table laughs hysterically. You and some of those not at that table who saw it can't help but laugh, too. The pizza lies on the floor while everybody continues to laugh wildly. One man sticks his foot out and slides the pizza under the table apparently so it won't be in the way. As it slides, much of the cheese and the ingredients on top of it smear on the floor. Everyone continues to laugh for a long time.

The pizza and beer fill you up very well. You go to the cash register and present your MasterCard to the hostess. She looks very busy. She is arranging items behind the counter when you get there.

"Was everything O. K.?" she asks when she notices you and comes forward to take your card.

"Yes, just fine," you tell her. "That was a real good spot you put me in, too."

"Oh, I'm glad to hear that. You write down the tip on the tab and thank her again and say good-bye. It has continued to snow, and you have to scrape the snow off your windows. This is one of the things you hate most about the North, having to scrape snow off cars and shovel it off sidewalks in the winter. Also, you have to stand there in the snow while you're doing it and your feet always start to feel very cold. Your hands, even if you are wearing very good gloves, always get chilled.

You drive back to the Thruway. You have to be extra careful because you do not have snow tires. You will probably be able to get along all right. You've known people who drive their cars all winter in this weather and never put on snow tires. With your luck, however, you'll probably get stuck somewhere and in a very bad spot, like in the middle of a busy intersection.

You drive to Horace's place. Surely, he will be back by now. You feel confident of that at first, and then as you are almost there you realize there is no guarantee that he will be there. Like you had thought before, it could be that he isn't even in town. You get there and the house is still completely dark. You park the car in a space on the street that is almost in front of the house. You then decide it would be better not to leave your car. You were planning to go to the door, but it is not safe enough. It's too dark and it is even later than it was before. True, there isn't much chance anyone would be out in this weather, but you better not take chances. This isn't exactly a bad neighborhood, but then you still can't say it's safe. What neighborhood is these days? What you can do is go find a phone in some safe place and call from there to make sure he hasn't come in and gone to sleep while you were eating. You have no idea what his car looks like so you can't tell if he is in by looking at the cars on the street.

150

It has stopped snowing now, but it is still very overcast. It will probably start snowing again later tonight. It has gotten colder as the night has progressed. You go back to the nearest major avenue and look for a phone booth. You see two within a few blocks, but they are in dark and lonely places. You want to find one that is not isolated and unsafe. You keep driving and eventually come to a small grocery store that is still open. You drive into the parking lot slowly and stay on the spots that have been well traveled. The last thing you want now is to get stuck in the snow. You don't see a phone booth outside the building, but you're hoping there is one inside. If there isn't a pay phone, maybe the store manager will let you use the one that belongs to the store.

As you walk to the front door, a large, fat black woman comes out and passes you on the sidewalk. She is carrying a small bag of groceries and has an angry look on her face. You look at her, but she looks straight ahead.

You walk in and immediately see a pay phone on the right. You go up to it and put in your quarter. The quarter goes in normally but nothing happens when you dial. That's all you need--to wind up with a phone that is out of order. You press the coin return lever hoping the machine will give back the quarter. You need every penny you've got. You have very little cash left, which is one big reason you have to see Horace. The quarter can be heard clinking through and dropping in metal. You just hope it fell in the coin return receptacle and not in the coin holder inside the machine. You open the receptacle and feel a relief to find the quarter. You question for a moment whether to try again. Maybe you should ask to use the store's phone to make sure you don't lose a quarter in trying. They'll probably ask you if you tried it several times. Sometimes the coin won't work the first time or the first several times and then it will finally work. You decide to try again and drop the quarter in. The quarter makes the same sounds it made the first tine. You dial again hoping it will work this time. You hear it working and finish dialing. Horace's phone is ringing. You let it ring for a long time, but there is no answer. Just in case it was another phone number you dialed by mistake, you dial again. You let it ring about 20 times but still no answer.

A feeling of panic comes over you. You don't know why you should feel panic. Horace probably isn't even in town or surely he would be home by now. Of course, he could be at a friend's house until late. You have a strong hunch he is simply out of town. You don't have anybody to fall back on here in Buffalo. It seems so far away from anywhere you want to go. Maine is many miles away. You wonder if you will ever get there. What more bad luck will you have between here and there. Why must this be happening to you? What have you done wrong?

"Do you want to buy anything? I'm afraid we are closing," a young grocery checker asks politely.

"Oh, no. I just had to use the phone."

You go back to the car not knowing what you should do next. You could drive around to kill more time and call Horace again later just in case he comes in. You really don't want to be driving around as cold as it is and without snow tires. There aren't very many places open now, but surely there must be some coffee shops somewhere that stay open all night. You could stop in one and take your time eating some sweet rolls and drinking hot chocolate. You could definitely go for the sensation of that warm liquid going down your pipe. Still you don't want to be wandering around in the street anymore. You are exhausted and weary and would like nothing more than to drop into a nice warm bed under some warm blankets. Yet you hate to have to pay for another night at a motel.

You drive down the street slowly for about a mile pondering what to do. You decide to give up on Horace and go find a motel. You feel frustrated and a little disgusted at Horace although you realize it is irrational to be mad at him. Somehow you feel resentful that he wasn't around when you needed him. You tell yourself it isn't his fault at all. For all you know something happened to him. Maybe he is even dead.

You find a motel that you like. It is not far from the Thruway. There is a pay phone in the lobby, and you call Horace again just to make sure. No answer. You go to the motel desk.

"I would like a single room, please," you tell the clerk, pulling out your credit card and handing it over.

"How many days will you be staying?'' he asks.

"Just overnight. I have to get going in the morning."

He fills out the necessary paperwork, taking about 5 minutes. "Your room is 113. Go down this corridor and turn right at the end of it. It's about three doors down from there. It will be on your right."

You walk to your room with only the small suitcase you brought in from the car. Everything is extremely quiet. It seems strange. You pass several rooms and they are dark, no light can be seen from underneath the doors. You can't even hear a simple television set playing--something that you would expect. Maybe everyone staying here tonight is an ambitious businessman who has to get up early tomorrow. Or maybe they are all having drinks at the bar. Actually you aren't even sure there is a bar in here, but they could have gone to one nearby. Or maybe all these rooms are empty. You could be the only one in the motel. You didn't notice how many cars were outside. It didn't seem like that many. This reminds you of the movie Motel Hell. You think about it. The desk clerk looked a little nervous. He had shifty eyes. The sound of your shoes rubbing against the carpet is very loud in the hallway. Anyone can surely hear you coming.

You start feeling scared. You have the impulse to turn and run back out, but you realize it's ridiculous. It's only your imagination. You force yourself to go forward. You reach the door to Room 113 and put in the key. You can feel your palm sweating against the doorknob. The key turns the knob readily. You open the door wide and pause there before making another move. You reach in with your hand only and flick on the light switch. Everything looks normal. You enter the room and leave the door open. You look around the room and then go into the bathroom and turn on the light. You check behind the shower curtain. You go to the closet and open the door while standing as far away as possible. The closet is empty. You walk up to the side of the bed, get down on your knees, and look underneath. No one is there. You feel relieved. You turn around and walk back to the door, close it and lock it.

You go to the window to see what is outside. It has begun to snow again, but it is only falling lightly. Your room looks over the back of the motel. To the side of the motel on the left, there is a small shopping center. It is lit up but apparently all the stores are closed. There are only two cars in the parking lot, which probably belong to the cleaning people. Directly behind the motel is a residential area. Most of the houses are dark. There are only a few houses where lights remain on, showing that people are still awake. Everybody else is resting up to go to work tomorrow. They probably have their share of pressures and worries. At this point, you would still gladly change places with any one of them. You quickly get into bed and fall into a tired sleep. You sleep without any covers on because the room is too hot.

You are in the middle of the street and notice that the street is similar to some of the side streets that crossed the street of the bus terminal where you were at last night. There are only a few cars that occasionally pass by, but there are cars parked along both sides of the street.

This man is coming down the middle of the street. You remember the one you saw last night looking at you from across the street before you ducked into the drugstore but it isn't him. This one is white. He is about 25 years old, strongly built, wearing a tan leather jacket, a black leather, short-brim cap, and sunglasses. He is walking at a regular pace right down the middle of the street. He takes steady, confident steps and seems to be in no hurry. He fixes a strong stare on you and never takes his eyes off you. It makes you very uneasy.

155

You run down the middle of the street and sometimes dart behind parked cars thinking it will give you some kind of protection but of course it doesn't. It only wastes time. You run faster and faster but can't get away. If anything he keeps gaining on you even though he continues to walk at the same steady and moderate pace. He just keeps coming and he is not alone. Well behind, there are many more men coming after you. Some are in the middle of the street while some keep moving around and between the parked cars. Some of them are about the same age as your main pursuer, but the others are much younger--teenagers. It's an integrated crowd with many blacks in it. They don't seem as intent on catching you as your main pursuer. Some of them are laughing and clowning around. They stay well behind the main man and are not well organized. It looks like they are mainly out to watch and have a good time.

Every time you look back your eyes meet the stare from the man in the front. They all come closer and closer. You don't know what they want. They no doubt want to take your money. You want to yell out to them that you have very little money and that it isn't worth the effort, but you can't seem to get the strength to open your mouth and say anything. For one thing, you are out of breath, but beyond that it seems as if your vocal chords are paralyzed. You keep running.

In the morning you wake up late. You feel rested but still not completely relaxed. You know you should get up immediately and start driving to Maine. If you drove fast today, you might make it home by midnight. You are finally looking forward very much to getting home from your odyssey. You hate the thought of another night away from home. You could spend another night in a motel between here and there, like around Boston, but you fear that the next time they'll pull a check on your credit card and find out credit on it has stopped. The card could even be cancelled. You got behind in the monthly payments last year and were told to watch your step. They are probably looking for the slightest excuse to cancel your card. You aren't sure of that. It is only a suspicion.

The one thing that holds you back from leaving now is the idea of missing the soap opera. You have the feeling that something important could happen on today's episode. It is just your luck that it would be an important episode and you would miss it.

You turn on the television hesitating to decide whether to leave or stay. Donahue is on. The guest for today is peroxide-blond, sex siren Loni Anderson. She talks with the audience about the usual things in her career. Eventually she and Donahue get into some comments on how men often talk to her but are preoccupied with looking at her bosom and pay little attention to what she is saying. Donahue sounds sarcastic. She says, "They often seem to be talking to my breasts." All the while on the show, she is wearing this dress with a cleavage that goes almost all the way down to her bellybutton.

You like Phil Donahue. He is very perceptive and sensitive, but there are one or two tendencies of his that rub you wrong. One of them is that he often points out how women are mistreated and abused by men without showing the other side of the matter. He often expresses pity for women because they are such poor, defenseless creatures and disgust with men who have supposedly run things only to their convenience for centuries. He either does this directly or indirectly through off-hand remarks. Most of the women seem to eat it up. No doubt it is good for the ratings.

Donahue has to pay attention to the ratings, but you believe it is sincere for the most part. Much of the motivation behind such remarks is no doubt his own guilt about not having been a very attentive husband to his first wife. Still it would be better if he pointed out that it is not as simple as seeing women as always the victims of cruel and calculating men.

After the show is over an advertisement for the latest Brooke Shields movie comes on. You wonder why she and other girls in their early teens have become so popular as actresses and models. You've read that it is because men have become obsessed with innocent and unliberated young girls, but you think that it is more that movie audiences are young these days.

Time passes quickly and before you know it the soap opera begins. It turns out that Matthew wasn't mad at Verna at the end of the last episode you watched when he showed up at Verna's door with a hard look on his face. He was worried about a falling of the company profits during the previous quarter and wanted to get it off his chest. He was naturally concerned with what the board of directors would have to say about that and with what could have caused the dip in profits. Apparently he doesn't know anything about Verna's pregnancy. In the meantime, Verna still doesn't know who the real father is, but it looks like she has decided on who she is going to claim as the father. The next scene shows her on the phone. She is talking long distance to Mark in El Salvador.

MARK I sure miss you. I wish you were here.

VERNA Oh, Mark, I miss you, too. When are you coming back?

MARK It's not going to be for some time yet. I've only been here one week and remember I'm supposed to be here for a full month.

VEHNA I know but it's just that it seems that you've been gone so long.

MARK Yea, I know what you mean. I'll try to see if I can go back early, but I can't count on it.

VERNA How is it down there? Is it pretty?

MARK Oh, yes. Lush tropical setting, lots of green stuff. I like it. It wouldn't be bad living out here in a nice home in the country. It's at least a nice place to vacation, well, except for the war going on.

VERNA Mark, there's something I have to tell you before I hang up.

MARK Yes, Verna.

VERNA I'm going to have a baby--your baby. I found out a few days ago. You're the father, Mark.

MARK Gee, I don't know what to say. You caught me by surprise. Are you thinking of going ahead and having it?

VERNA I don't know. Before I found this out, I wasn't interested in being a mother, but I'm not sure how I feel now. It's a funny feeling. How do you feel?

MARK I don't know. Confused, I guess. Both happy and scared.

VERNA I have to warn you about something. I'm probably all wrong, but I have a fear that the baby might not come out completely normal. I know it's too early to tell, but I'm still worried about it.

MARK Don't worry about it. I suppose it's normal for all parents to fear that their baby won't come out normal, but you shouldn't think about it. What makes you think it won't come out normal?

VERNA Oh, it's a long story. It would take too long to tell, but you're right. It probably will come out all right.

MARK Promise not to give it so much thought.

VERNA O.K., I promise.

MARK I'll call again soon. I love you.

VERNA I love you, too Good-bye.

MARK Good-bye.

After some commercials and several scenes, there is a scene involving Mark and John, another American journalist who is also down in El Salvador to cover the civil war. They are going to visit a small village west of San Salvador, the capital and near the town of La Libertad (Freedom).

(The camera shows them in the jungle outside the village as they approach. The vegetation is lush. They stop to rest.)

MARK It sure is pretty, isn't it?

JOHN Yes. I just wish it wouldn't get so damn humid and make you sweat so much.

MARK Well, you can't have everything. There's always some drawback. Wow, you're sweating so much you're even sweating heavy at the crotch. (He points to a wet spot on John's pants slightly to the left of the middle of the crotch seam.)

160

JOHN No, Mark. That's not sweat. when you get older, you'll understand what that's all about. It's what I call "after-drip." Remember I took a piss a little distance back?

MARK Yes.

JOHN That's when it happens, right after that.

MARK I've been wondering what the people in my office would say if they found out I was working on the side for the CIA while I'm down here. I bet some of them would be horrified.

JOHN I don't think it would go over very bad at my paper. A few years ago it would have but not these days.

MARK Well, it isn't any big operation. They just want us to find out about any peasants who might be enemies of the leftists to whom the U.S. could sell guns, and we aren't being asked to spy on American citizens. That has been one of the big gripes--civilians working for the CIA spying on Americans in the United States.

JOHN That's true. This can't be that objectionable. We better get going.

(They get up and start walking. The camera fades.)

During the commercial break, you think about how far they are going with the subjects on these soap operas. You wonder if they aren't going too far. They are even getting political. It's a wonder that groups opposed to too much smut on television haven't protested. They probably will soon. You read recently that one group was trying to ban Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl because they claimed it was pornographic.

At the same time, you wonder if it might not be all in your head. It wouldn't surprise you if you were hallucinating as you watch the television what with the way things have been going. It could even be the mysterious forces you've been experiencing. Maybe they are manipulating the television set.

(In the next scene, Mark and John have arrived in the village. They talk to inhabitants of the village questioning them on how often either the guerrilla fighters or the government troops come into the village. They have trouble communicating in their broken Spanish. They eventually find a villager who knows some English.)

JOHN How often do rebels come into the village?

VILLAGER Once a week.

JOHN How often do government soldiers come into village?

VILLAGER Every 3, 4 days.

MARK When was the last time they were here?

VILLAGER This morning. Just a few hours ago.

JOHN How many were there?

VILLAGER Maybe hundred.

JOHN What did they want?

VILLAGER They were chasing rebels. They caught them.

MARK Have the government soldiers left yet?

VILLAGER Yes. They left right away.

MARK What did they do with the rebels?

(The villager turns around and starts walking. He doesn't say a word more but motions for Mark and John to follow him. He walks down the street past several small run-down houses. He turns right at a vacant lot where there are many children and some adults standing around. Some of the children are running around laughing, but others are quiet and have a look of fear on their faces. The villager goes to a spot where several people are standing around looking down. He points at the ground. Mark and John arrive at the place and see what he is pointing out. There are eight bloody,. severed heads lined up on the ground. They are arranged neatly and standing upright. Most of them have their eyes wide open. They look like mostly young boys about age 15. They still look very much alive but are not.)

You get going as soon as you can with the hope that you can still get home by late tonight, but that is highly doubtful. You take some more Valium, which is now running low. You are going home just in time. You know a doctor there who will prescribe some with no questions asked. You don't know what you would do without those pills especially with things going as they are. You feel fearful and pessimistic about what is going to happen on this trip. You don't feel at ease even though you are closer than ever to home. It still seems like such a long way to go.

14

As you drive along the New York Thruway, you wonder what you'll do to keep entertained at home. The place will be practically snowbound most of the time. If the snowmobile is in good running condition, you'll be able to go out on it, but that won't take up that much of your time. There will probably be plenty of time to read and watch television, but you want something more. You don't know what but something more.

If you would have known you were coming home, you would have brought your portable spa. You only bought it a few months ago and have been enjoying it a lot. You are going to miss it. It would have been something special to show your family. It cost $2500. It will take a while to pay it off. After you finish paying for it, you would like to buy one of those immersion tanks that have been put on the market more recently. They cost a lot more but are worth it.

The sun comes out for a half-hour and makes everything very bright. You always carry sunglasses and put them on to avoid the glare. Snow has fallen over most of New York state and the states to the east of it so the snow on the ground contributes to the very bright glare. The carpet of snow looks exquisite on the fields and among the trees to the sides of the highway. The snow that has been plowed from the pavement and stacked in banks along the sides makes an attractive border along the road.

When you get hungry after a couple of hours of driving, you stop at a rest area with a gas station and snack counter. There is a Howard Johnson's Restaurant there also, but you don't have time to stop to eat there. You fill up with gas and buy a ham and cheese sandwich, a bag of cheese popcorn, a pack of Ho-Ho's, a Milky Way, a large bottle of 7-Up, and a pack of cigarettes. You try to pay with your MasterCard, but they accept cash only.

You go to the car and before leaving pour the 7-Up into your thermos along with some bourbon. That should give you a good supply of cocktails to last you for the rest of the day. You take a couple of good swigs before driving off. You are going to have to get on a diet when you get home. You've been wanting to take off about 10 pounds for several months but haven't done very well at it. You don't look bad, but you could look much better if you lost those 10 pounds. With the bad eating schedule you've had on this trip, you don't think you've lost any weight. You haven't been eating that much, but what you have eaten hasn't been very good. If anything, you have probably put on weight.

You don't know what diet to try this time. You've tried several diets in the past and have read books on diet and nutrition. Most of the diets didn't seem to work at all. With the ones that did, you eventually took off the weight you wanted although it took much longer than the diet books promised. The biggest problem was that you would eventually gain the weight back, and it would sneak up on you. You wouldn't even notice it before you had put all the weight back on.

165

You can still remember the names of the diets you tried. There was The Doctor's Quick Weight Loss Diet, Dr. Stillman's 14-Day Shape Up Program, and Dr. Atkins' Diet Revolution. Those were low carbohydrate diets that promised you wouldn't have to feel hungry while on the diet. They claimed that carbohydrates were very bad and were the major cause of weight gain. Then there was The Pritikin Permanent Weight Loss Diet. It took the opposite approach from the low carbohydrate diets and said that carbohydrates were not to be feared. There are many others, like The Psychologist's Eat Anything Diet, Fasting: The Ultimate Diet, The Save Your Life Diet, and The Last Chance Diet.

You've been thinking about trying a new diet that you've been hearing about called The Beverly Hills Diet. The only thing is that you heard that the woman who wrote the book said she herself hadn't been able to lose any weight on it. You didn't hear the details. You heard this from a former secretary to the woman who came out on the Tomorrow show.

Twenty miles later you see a hitchhiker alongside the road. You see him at the last minute and stop your car for him on impulse. The car doesn't stop completely until you are more than 200 feet past him. You start to have second thoughts on whether you should take him. It's a risky proposition. You only caught a glimpse of him. It definitely isn't the hitchhiker you had seen before. It definitely looks like a nicer, clean-shaven, clean-cut guy. He is running hard to get to the car and is much closer now. You keep wondering whether this is a mistake. You could still take off if you changed your mind. You have to decide quickly, but you keep feeling sorry for him. No telling what misfortune has befallen him, and it looks like it is going to start to snow again soon. The clouds are very heavy. You unlatch the passenger door. He gets to the car and opens the door. He is smiling and very happy.

He gets into the seat immediately. "Hi, thanks for stopping. Sure glad you came along. How far are you going? I'm going to Springfield, Mass.''

"I'm going by there," you answer cheerfully as you start off. He is wearing blue jeans, a heavy blue parka, and tan leather hiking boots with red shoe laces. It looks like he has been wearing the same clothes for several days, but they still don't look too bad. His hair needs a little combing. He looks in his early 20's. He is thin but strong-looking, and stands about 6 feet.

He couldn't be dangerous. Even if he does start getting violent, you have the gun you bought under your seat. It is on the left side. You can reach for it very quickly with your left hand although you are right-handed. You figure you'll go ahead and use your left hand to shoot at him if necessary. The gun is much easier to reach with your left hand, and you can keep an eye on him when you reach down to get it. If you used your right hand, it would be much easier for him to grab it.

He announces, "I just came from visiting my grandmother and my cousins in Utica. I didn't take my car because it broke down just before I left Springfield for Utica. It would have taken too long to fix it so I took the bus. I was planning to take the bus back, but I ran low on money and decided to hitchhike. My cousins didn't want me to do it especially because of the weather. They wanted to lend me money for the bus fare, but I didn't want to take it. I knew I could make it hitchhiking. With the weather like it's been, it does make it a lot harder. This jacket is pretty warm though, and I'm used to the cold. I work at a gas station and have to be outside a lot of the time."

"It helps a lot to be used to the cold," you agree.

"It sure does," he answers. He talks fast apparently out of nervousness. ''I was out there quite a while before you came, maybe a half hour. Nobody would pick me up. I was starting to get worried. I was walking just to keep warm. When I started out this morning, I got a ride right away, but the guy was only going so far so I had to get off. I was hoping to find someone going all the way through like you. There's a lot of people going to Boston through here. The only problem is getting them to stop.

"People are very afraid these days. They don't want to take any chances in picking up a stranger because they're afraid of getting mugged. I can't say I blame them. I was a little afraid of hitchhiking myself. That's why my cousins didn't want to let me cone. You know hitchhikers get mugged, too."

"Yes, I've heard."

"I know this guy who got mugged hitchhiking in California. He was coming back East. He was just starting out on the trip and was thumbing on some freeway near San Francisco somewhere. He got picked up by these guys in a nice-looking van. They hadn't gone too far when they told him to take everything out of his pockets. He had a hundred dollars in cash, and they took it all. They pulled over to the side of the road and dumped him off. Told him that if he turned them in, they'd get him. They didn't leave him a penny so he had to go around begging until he got enough money to get back."

"That's terrible," you say. "Did he ever turn them in? He could have given the police the license number of the van."

"That wouldn't 've been enough. He would have had to hang around California and been a witness at the trial. That's if they would've been able to find them. It could have been a long time before the police found them. Besides he was too scared to be a witness. There were three of them, and he said they looked mean."

"Can't say I blame him for being afraid," you agree. "It's hard to catch criminals."

"Yea," he agrees. "Hell, at least you look like a nice, friendly person who wouldn't harm anybody. I feel safe."

"Thanks," you say gratefully. "You don't have to worry about me."

"I'm supposed to be back to work tomorrow. I would have rather stayed in Utica another week, but I was lucky enough to get the few days off I did get. I've only been working there a few months so I don't have a regular vacation coming for a long time, but the boss is pretty nice and let me have a few days off. I got to go skiing a couple of times and did some sledding, too. Time really went by fast. My cousins are a lot of fun." He goes on to talk about his cousins and about some of the other things they did while he was there. After he finishes talking about his cousins, there is a period of silence.

Then he asks curiously, "Where are you headed?"

"Oh, I'm just going to Boston," you answer quickly.

"You live there?"

"Yea," you answer hesitatingly. "Lived there most of my life." You figure you'll tell him that to throw him off track. You don't say much more, but he presses you again for details.

"You working there?"

"Yea. I have to go back to work tomorrow, too. I went to visit a friend in Buffalo." You hope that will be enough information to satisfy his curiosity. You decided not to tell him the truth because you never know what will happen. He could ultimately be an unfriendly force. Or he could just simply spread information you don't want anyone to know. He stops asking questions so you figure you gave the right answers and hope he won't bring up the subject again.

He doesn't talk about anything more. He simply settles in and looks at the passing scenery. You turn up the radio, which is tuned to a rock station. You'll be happy not to talk because you fear he'll want to know more about you.

It might have been better not to have given him a ride. He'll find out too much. Not only that, you are getting strange feelings. He seemed friendly enough when he first got on, but he is starting to seem strange to you now. You can't pinpoint why, but that is the feeling you get. Another one of those medleys of oldies is playing on the radio. This one is of songs from the mid-'60's. You turn it up to hide the silence between the two of you.

You drive for another hour with only the music playing on the radio. In the meantime, the sun sets and it begins to get dark. The man hardly says anything except for a few comments about passing trucks or vans that have been fixed up. He usually says something like, "Wow, look at that fantastic-looking truck" and that is all. He glances at you strangely on occasion. It makes you uncomfortable. Eventually, he starts to nod and then falls asleep.

170

As he sleeps, you take a closer look at him. He seems more slovenly now and he even smells a little. His boots look very worn. They hadn't seemed that way before. It looks like he has done a lot of walking in them. You begin to wonder whether he truly was staying in Utica or whether that may only be a story he was giving you. It looks more as if he has been walking for several days. Maybe he has been traveling across the country for several days. If that is so, then why did he want to lie about it? Why did he feel he had to conceal the truth? Also, it could be that he is out of money. At Springfield he could decide to take your money or even to take the car. He may seem nice now, but people in desperate situations do desperate things. You had better be careful with him.

Suddenly there is something wrong with the car! It was driving fine one minute and now it sounds and feels like the engine has gone dead. You step hard on the accelerator and hear no change in the sound of the engine. You floor it and there is still no change in the sound. It is hard to be sure whether there could be a change in the acceleration since the car is going at high speed and the tires are making considerable noise. The speedometer is gradually going down. You floor the accelerator and it has no effect on the speedometer. Now there is no doubt the engine has stopped.

You turn the ignition key and try to start it again. You can't tell very well whether the engine is turning or not. There is too much other noise from the car. You keep trying to start the engine, but it sounds like only the starter is turning. You check the speedometer as you step on the accelerator, but it is still gradually going down. You feel frightened. What are you going to do now? You don't know anything about cars.

You notice the lights on the instrument panel have lit up. That must mean the engine is off. You give up on trying to start the engine while the car is on the road. If it slows down too much, you could get hit from behind. Maybe once you stop the car completely, you'll be able to start the car. You'll also be more calm.

You start looking for a place to pull over to the side. There is only a very slight trace of daylight left so you have to watch carefully where you are headed. As you start to pull over, the passenger finally wakes up. You hadn't even thought about him in the panic to start the car. Now you start to worry about him, about what he might do.

"What happened? How come you're stopping?" he asks as he rubs his eyes, rears up in his seat, and looks out the side window.

"I don't know. The engine suddenly went dead on me and doesn't want to start. I hope it'll start once we pull over and stop the car completely."

"Have you been having any problems with it stopping before?" he asks.

"No, this is the first time," you tell him truthfully. "It's been starting right away."

"Had any other problems with it?"

"It was acting up a little a few days ago, but it hasn't since. It was making funny noises, but it was running all right."

"Maybe a belt busted," he speculates. The car finally comes to a stop. You pause a few seconds and turn the ignition key. The engine turns but it doesn't start. It still sounds strong and steady so the battery hasn't run down yet. You stop, wait a few seconds, then try again. It's the same thing. The engine keeps turning but it doesn't start.

"We better look at it," he says as he opens the door. You also get out of the car. You are now glad in a way that he is along. Maybe he can figure out the problem. It helps that he works at a gas station, but then gas pump jockeys don't know that much. If they did, they would have jobs as mechanics.

He raises the hood. "It could be something wrong with the carburetor or maybe the fuel pump." It is hard to see anything.

"Let me turn the headlights on. Maybe it'll help to see," you tell him as you go back inside.

"You don't carry a flashlight in your car, by any chance?" he asks. "No, I'm afraid not. I should," you answer with sincere regret. You have been wanting to buy a good flashlight to carry in the glove compartment for a long time. You've always thought it was a very good idea, but you keep forgetting. Whenever you've thought about it, the stores have been closed or you've been in the middle of doing something else.

Turning on the headlights helped a little, but not enough to do any serious work. He is groping around in various places. He has taken off the air cleaner and fiddles around with the parts under it.

"Do you carry any tools with you?" he asks.

"There's a screwdriver in the glove compartment. I also have a tire gauge but that won't help."

"No," he agrees. "There's no telling what it could be. And we won't be able to fix anything with just a screwdriver. It could be the points." He keeps looking at the carburetor and other parts. "Why don't you try to start it again?" he tells you. You go back into the car and turn the key, but it still doesn't start. If anything it sounds a little slower. The battery is starting to run down. You come back out.

You start to worry. What is going to happen? It is very cold. There is a breeze from the west. It isn't very strong, but you can definitely feel its chillness. How will you ever fix the car? Where is the nearest garage? There's no telling how far the car would have to be towed. And how much would it all cost? They probably wouldn't accept your credit cards.

And what would this guy do? You suppose he would simply start trying to hitch another ride. In a way you're glad he is here. You would probably feel even more panic if you were alone. Maybe he'll be able to find out what is wrong with the car.

But then if the car doesn't start, he might decide to jump you and take whatever you have. That would be easy to do without being seen out here in the dark in the middle of nowhere. Even if he fixes the car, he might decide to knock you out and take off with it. He could throw you off to the side and you would freeze to death. They wouldn't find you for days. You had better not turn your back to him.

As you watch, you decide to walk over to look at a part and check that. It looks like a small can with a large wire coming to the top of it and a couple of small wires leading from it. He hasn't even looked at that, and it occurs to you to make sure the wires are tightly connected. You take the rubber cup covering the connection of the big wire to the top of the can-thing and press down on it to make sure it is tight. You then press the small wires on the side to make sure they are making a good connection with their respective terminals. You walk back and get into the driver's seat.

"I'm going to try it again," you tell him as you walk to the car door.

"O.K.," he agrees. You turn the key and it starts within one second.

You keep pressing on the accelerator to make sure it doesn't stall. He keeps looking intently at the engine apparently still trying to see what was wrong. After revving up the engine for about a half minute, you let your foot off the accelerator to see if the engine will continue running. The engine keeps right on running smoothly. He then lowers the hood and comes back into the car.

"Gee, I don't know why I didn't look at the coil," he says in a befuddled tone. "I hadn't touched anything since the first time you tried to start it."

"Yea, I guess it was just one of those strange coincidences," you tell him calmly.

"I guess so," he agrees. You feel very proud of yourself, but you don't want to say anything about what you did. For all you know, what you did was not what fixed it. It could have been a complete coincidence.

175

You get on the road once again. He talks a little about how tricky some mechanical problems are to solve and about some of the difficult ones he has experienced. After that neither one of you has anything to say. Only the radio fills the silence, and you begin to fret again about how to get rid of this passenger.

Your nerves feel tight again. You need some more pills, but you don't want to take any with him around. What were you thinking of when you gave him the ride? It was the same feeling you had back at the bus terminal in Buffalo. You wanted very much to talk to someone, to have someone along at least. This brought on the impulse that made you forget the possible dangers. You wish now you had given it more consideration.

You get tired of listening to the same music, but don't want to turn the radio off so you search for other stations on the dial. You get all the different stations from many miles away, but they are too weak and garbled to listen to very well. You keep turning the knob but can't find anything you like. The stations out of Albany should be strong and clear, but there aren't that many. You hit a station that sounds like an all news station or a National Public Radio one and decide to leave it there. You might as well give it a try. It sounds like an interview. Who knows, it could be interesting.

INTERVIEWER You said recently that the greatest harm the superpowers could be causing is that their continued nuclear weapons buildup is setting a bad example for smaller countries that might also decide to develop the bomb.

GUEST As of now, there are 8 countries that have developed the atomic bomb, and there are others that would like to and are probably working on it right now as we speak. One reason that countries get the desire to build the bomb is the matter of prestige. Countries perceive that it is a boost to a country's international prestige to build nuclear weapons. This is, of course, ludicrous but it is difficult to convince these countries that prestige should not be based on nuclear capability when the big powers place so much emphasis on basing their own prestige on it.

INTERVIEWER What problems do you see when more countries attain nuclear capability?

GUEST We have long been afraid of an accidental nuclear war being started between the United States and Russia, but with more countries possessing the bomb, the danger of accidental war increases significantly. A particularly disastrous example of an accident would involve a small country attacking either the United States or the Soviet Union and then having that superpower retaliate against the other superpower thinking that it was the other one that had initiated the attack.

This kind of situation could even be started by some fanatical terrorist group attacking one of the big countries. It has . . . .

Your mind keeps wandering from the radio interview and returns to your present worries. You only catch parts of what is being talked about. Your passenger doesn't make any comments at all. The guest explains how ridiculous it is to think that a nuclear war can be won and denies that the United States is far behind in nuclear capability. He implies that when Ronald Reagan said in his campaign that the U.S. was far behind, he was doing it to get votes.

GUEST . . . . a serious problem is that Reagan thinks we can obtain peace through belligerence. This was especially . . . .

"Are you listening to this?" you ask him in a tone that shows your own lack of interest.

"No," he answers after apparently picking up on your displeasure.

He didn't seem to be paying attention anyway. You change the station and start looking for something else. You don't feel like fiddling around very much with the dial and leave it on the first rock station you find even though it sounds very far away.

You didn't want to keep listening to that radio interview. It got too scary. You genuinely wanted to listen to it at first. You know you should be better informed on these matters, but whenever you listen to something like that it always gets too complicated and confusing. That talk about atomic bombs only made you more nervous than you already are.

The passenger still isn't saying very much. It seems funny after all he talked when he first got in the car. If anything, he seems afraid of you. You don't see why. Maybe he'll go back to sleep.

Driving in the car like this reminds you of Richard Carlson in The Invasion of the Body Snatchers when he is running away from those pods that invade the earth. This guy seems just as threatening to you as one of those pods. You don't think you'll be able to make it all the way with him to Springfield. It's too risky. It's better to make him get off now before it's too late. You have to do it. Your mind is made up.

You quickly put on the brakes and direct the car to the side of the road. You soon come to a stop as he looks at you bewildered. Before he has a chance to say anything, you tell him. "O. K., get out! This is the end of the line for you. Just get out."

"Wait a minute. Why?" he asks with a completely unbelieving stare on his face. "What's wrong?"

You insist, "Just get out. I don't want you riding with me anymore."

"But it's only a few more miles to Springfield. What's the idea?" he asks in a shrill, excited voice.

"Don't argue with me. Get out. Don't worry. Someone will come and pick you up before long." You assure him but in a stern voice.

"It's very cold out there especially now in the middle of the night. It could be a long time before anyone offers me a ride," he explains in a pleading voice.

"The state police will come soon," you point out. You are determined not to bend. You have to be tough. Getting him out could be a matter of life and death for you.

"Come on. You've got to be kidding. Just take me to Springfield." He sounds more exasperated and even a little hostile now.

"I'm telling you, get out," you yell resolutely. "I mean it." With that you remember the gun under your seat and reach down to get it. He doesn't notice anything until you point the gun right at him.

"Hey, what are you trying to do?" he exclaims in a nervous tone. "All right, all right, I'm going," he continues in a more soothing tone apparently aware that he better not excite you any further.

With his right hand, he slowly opens the door. He has been facing you directly and now turns his body to leave. He makes a sudden move with his left hand. It startles you and you pull the trigger. You immediately realize that he wasn't going to do anything but apparently jerked his hand forward to catch his balance. He turns to look with this terrified look on his face. It looks like the bullet went through the left side of his neck. There is a small hole there, but it is hard to see in the dark.

You might as well go through with it. No use in backing down now. It's better to finish him off. You pull the trigger again and then another time. You hit solid each time. The impact on his body can be seen with each shot. The bullets hit him in the chest. His horrified face keeps its gaze on you as he topples out the door on his right shoulder.

You immediately get out of your door and go around to the other side. Luckily there are not too many cars on the highway. Only one passes by as you walk around your car, and it keeps right on going. It's a good thing most people don't stop to help others.

You have to move fast. It's just your luck the state police will stop to see if there is anything wrong. You never see them, but it will be your luck they'll show up now. You grab the man by the arms and drag him away from the car and toward a small clump of trees nearby. It is hard to pull him after all he is bigger than you, but the snow helps because it is slippery. You keep pulling hard and finally get to a good spot among the trees. You notice you are out of breath. You kick some snow on top of the body to hide it as much as possible. His neck is now full of blood. You don't have the time to cover it well, but that shouldn't matter very much. All you need is a few hours to get away. After that it will be very hard to trace you down.

180

The man is clearly dead. He didn't make a sound while you were dragging him, and it didn't seem as if he were breathing at all. As you walk you notice several streaks of blood on the snow. You think of spreading the bloody snow with your foot, but before you begin, you realize it will get blood on your shoes so you keep walking. You close the passenger's door and notice it wasn't hit by any of the bullets. The man already had the door open when you fired the gun so they went right by the door.

You get away as soon as you can. There are very few cars on the road. There weren't any witnesses. That will be a big difference. They'll never be able to prove a thing on you. You feel pretty good about the way you handled it. You acted quickly in getting rid of the body. You didn't drop anything that could be used to trace you down. At least you are almost sure you didn't. There could have been something, but you doubt it very much. You didn't get any blood on you. You turn on the interior light to look at yourself. You don't see any on your shirt sleeves or pants or shoes. You look at the passenger seat and its door and can't see a trace of blood. No bullet holes, no traces of blood. He didn't leave behind any papers or a wallet. There's no problem.

You feel surprisingly calm about the whole thing. You never imagined you would feel so relaxed about killing a man. You do feel different, but it simply isn't as traumatic as you would have thought. Perhaps it is because you think you were justified. After all, he might have been dangerous, and you are under some kind of threat from unknown forces. You did tell him to get out and he wouldn't. You gave him enough warning. He was in your car.

You think back on it and you're rather proud of the way you did things. You acted very coolly. You showed good Clint Eastwood style. He is, after all, a very popular male actor. You especially liked the westerns he made in the beginning like A Fistful of Dollars and then Dirty Harry. You definitely liked the scenes where he would shoot someone, calmly put his gun back in the holster, and never bat an eye. You remember a scene in Joe Kidd where he drives this train into a barroom and shoots someone very efficiently. He never breaks this piercing stare, like showing he never feels a thing inside. You figure that is the main reason he was the biggest male box office draw of the 1970's.

It isn't long before you get to 495, the interstate you want to use to bypass Boston. The time goes by fast because you keep thinking about what happened, mainly trying to reassure yourself that all will be well. You definitely want to make it home tonight. You'll feel safer if you get there as soon as possible, but right now you're hungry and want to stop somewhere for a bite. You look ahead to the side of the freeway as you come to Worcester. After a mile, you come to a section that looks like it could have fast food restaurants. You take the next exit, and just as you are coming onto it, you see the golden arches of McDonald's. You get a flamed urge to go eat there.

Although it is late, there are still several people in there. Some of your friends hate McDonald's, but you don't mind eating here every so often. Right now it feels reassuring to be able to come to a food place that is pretty much the same everywhere you go. There is a young couple at one table, but the other three people are alone at separate tables. That's one thing about fast food restaurants. The impersonality makes it seem easier for people to come and eat alone. Your certainly don't feel uncomfortable like you did at that pizza restaurant you ate at in Buffalo.

As you eat, you start to have second thoughts about killing that man. You try to avoid the bad feelings but it's hard. You think now you acted too fast. Why did you shoot merely because he moved his arm too quickly? He wasn't going to do anything, and you really weren't afraid that he would. Somehow you shot him. It just happened. It was as if the trigger pulled too easily. You must have been putting too much pressure on the trigger. You want to say it was an accident, but you know it wasn't exactly. It's very confusing. You had never handled a gun before.

You sneak some quaaludes into your mouth and drink them with your milk. You'll need them on the rest of the trip. As you walk out the door, you notice a newspaper box. You put in the correct change and get one out. You look at the front page. On the left side of the page, there is an article heading saying SENATOR ATTACKED IN HIS BEDROOM. You quickly step back into the restaurant to read the article. Reading it rapidly, you can't believe what it says. It tells about Senator Rackley being attacked last night in his home by strangely dressed men. It tells everything exactly the way you saw it in your vision including the cutting of Senator Rackley's hair. It leaves you stunned and you sit there motionless.

You try to read the article next to it about more executions by the Muslim government in Iran, but you can hardly concentrate, Of course, they blame all their troubles on the United States. You don't know what to think about the vision. You wonder what the Pittsburgh police had to say about it, wonder if they even passed on what you told them to the FBI or the appropriate police agencies.

You wake up from your reverie and go back to the car. You keep thinking about what it could all mean on the way home, You don't feel nervous, just incredulous. Near the end of the trip, you feel very tired but manage to stay awake. Your continual thinking helps to keep your mind alert. It is snowing lightly in Maine. You get home that night. You hate to wake up the parents, but there's no choice. It's too cold to sleep in the car. In any case, they are glad to see you.

15

Dark clouds hover somberly above. A cutting, cold wind comes from the ocean to the east. A large, old mansion stands on a hill overlooking a spacious estate. It is the middle of the night, and there is only one light in the mansion. It is seen in a small window in the third floor in the southwest corner of the building. The lawn and surroundings are kept very well. There is a two-inch layer of snow all over.

There is a long road leading up to the mansion, which is located at a long distance from any other homes. All the other residences in the vicinity are also very large and elegant. There is a street sign indicating that the name of the narrow road is Otranto Lane. It ends not far behind the mansion and near to the ocean. It is a site somewhere on Long Island.

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A car is driving toward the mansion. It has its lights off. The car is black and very old. It has four doors and is square-looking, similar to a 1934 Plymouth. It drives slowly and its engine can hardly be heard. It stops at a distance of 1000 feet from the mansion. The driver parks the car as far as possible to the side of the road. He takes time to park it exactly the way he wants. There is a tree and some shrubbery a little ahead of the car. It becomes apparent that the driver is trying to conceal the car as much as possible from the line of sight of the mansion. No one leaves the car for several minutes, and then two men come out. They move quietly toward the mansion watching carefully all the time to walk behind the row of shrubbery along the road. Each one carries a small bundle in one hand. One of them carries a long leather case. It is hard to see them because the dense cloud cover blocks any moonlight that might help to see.

They stop at a point where the shrubbery ends and stand behind it contemplating the mansion. Before getting to the mansion, they must cross a spacious front lawn on which they can more easily be seen. After studying the scene, they run across the lawn. The shorter of the two men runs with a bad limp. They run to a window on the near side and toward the front of the house. The taller man takes an instrument from his pocket and starts running it along the edges of the window. He rubs it hard along all four edges of the window. It makes a deep ridge where it rubs and is apparently a glass-cutting tool. He then concentrates on the left side of the window. After he cuts through that, he goes on to cut a line along the top. When he finishes that, the other man sticks a knife through the left slit in the window and puts slight outward pressure on the window while the first man goes on to cut the other two edges. After he finishes cutting those edges, the window is pushed outward with the knife that the other man was holding behind the window. The shorter man takes the glass and very quietly places it on the snow several feet behind them, while the other one very carefully looks in the area on the wall immediately inside the window.

After looking hard with the help of a flashlight, he locates some wires. He takes out some small wire cutters and carefully cuts the wires.

Both of the men climb carefully inside. The room is completely dark. They continue to make their way with the help of the flashlight, which casts eerie shadows at all times. It looks like they are familiar with the interior arrangement. They immediately begin to ascend a long spiral staircase. The air feels cold and damp. Apparently the people living here don't turn the heat on in some rooms, probably to save energy.

The taller man is in front and after climbing approximately 30 steps almost runs into a tall metal object on the right side of the stairs against the wall. He doesn't see it until he almost hits it because he was pointing the flashlight to the left and looking around at the other floor levels, which can be seen to the left of the inner handrail. He points the flashlight at it. It is a full suit of armor for a medieval knight. It is gray in color and looks very well constructed. There is a long shield in front of it and a sword leaning against it. It isn't surprising to see the suit of armor since it is apparent from looking around the furniture and decorations that the people who live here are fond of antiques. Downstairs there was a very old grandfather clock. In front of the kitchen, there was an 18th century cupboard with very fine antique china.

The two men continue walking up the stairs. As they pass the second floor, the flashlight catches a white object inside a room. The man with the flashlight fixes it on the object. It is a full human skeleton standing in the corner opposite the door. It startles both men and sends a light chill through their spines, They stop in their tracks. The first one moves the light around to examine the rest of the room. There is a desk with papers on it. On the walls, there are color anatomical charts. One shows a large male human body and the other a female body. There is a table with a human brain on it. On closer inspection it is very shiny. At first it looked very real, but it is apparently only made of plastic. Apparently a student of anatomy or medicine lives in the house.

The men continue climbing the stairs. After they reach the top, they walk to and stop in front of the only lighted room in the house. The light can be seen through the crack under the door. The two men take the bundles they have been carrying in their hands. The man with the flashlight first puts his on the floor. He shuts off the flashlight and puts it in his coat pocket. He then picks up the bundle, which is a large, black Darth Vader helmet and puts it on his head. He has to do it this way because he only has one arm. The other man, in the meantime, puts on a shark's head. This man also takes the long object he was carrying, an AK-47 rifle, and points it forward--ready for action.

While this is happening, a dog inside the lighted room has started to growl softly but gets progressively louder. The dog is right inside the door and then starts to scratch at it. The man with the AK-47 points it steadily at the bottom of the door toward the dog. He fires a volley of shots into the door. The deafening sound of the shots reverberates loudly throughout the house. A dozen bullet holes are left in the door and there is not another sound heard from the dog.

The two men barge into the room immediately as the first one yells out, "Get your hands up." A man is lying in his bed with his hands up.

A bloody, bullet-riddled Doberman Pinscher is lying dead several feet from the door. The man is dressed in his pajamas and lying underneath the covers. He was apparently reading before he went to sleep. The book lying on his lap is entitled The Reagan Revolution by Evans and Novak. He looks very frightened and distressed. He is around 70 years old with almost completely gray hair. His hands are trembling. He is lying in a large bed. The furniture in the room is sparse but of high quality. The curtains are a very expensive variety.

"Sorry, Mr , Miller, for the interruption," the first man speaks in a broken accent. "We want to talk to you for little bit. Please call your wife on the intercom and tell her not to leave her room under any circumstances."

The man presses the button on an intercom box on top of the nightstand next to the head of his bed. "Helen . . . . Helen," he calls in a broken voice.

"Yes?" a woman's frightened voice is heard.

"Don't come out of your room. No matter what happens, stay in your room," the man tells her in a weak but definite tone.

"What's the matter, Harry? What's wrong," she asks in a confused, high-pitched voice. "What was that noise?"

"It's nothing, dear. Just some men that want to talk to me. Don't worry. Go back to sleep and don't come out of your room, or it could be very bad for us."

"Are you joking or something?" she exclaims. "How can you expect me to go back to sleep?" He doesn't answer anymore and she does not continue talking.

He looks back to the men who have entered the room, "She'll stay in her room. You don't have to worry."

"Mr. Miller," the first man, wearing the helmet, begins, "we came to see you on a mission. We have a number of grievances to register with you and other individuals. We also want the American people to hear about it so we are having to use certain tactics in order to get the proper attention for our ideas. Mr. Miller, you should know very well how hard it is to get items on the news. After all, you were a television news anchor man for many years. You had a certain responsibility over what news was broadcast over the air and what was said about the events that made the news. Is that not true?"

"Yes, that is true, but of course, there were many other people involved in making editorial decisions of different kinds including those decisions involving what newsworthy events were going to be covered." Miller sounds a little calmer as he continues talking.

The first man answers, "It might be true that an anchorman does not have complete control, but he nevertheless has more power than any other individual. ''

The former TV news anchorman points out, "Also don't forget that we always have to be aware of what people want to hear. They have an input on what is shown by their decision to watch."

"That is an important consideration but what people want to hear is partly determined by what they are used to hearing," the first man answers. "You also have to admit that journalists have a duty to report on important subjects that are unpopular. They should give consideration to views that are unpopular and even offensive but which may still be correct.

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"That brings us to the precise reason we have come to see you. We want to talk to you about the blanket of misinformation and bias in which the American people have been shrouded for so many years. We want to try to change this. There has to be a less distorted, less one-sided perspective of events especially international ones. "You were a prominent anchorman during the Vietnam War. Your opinion was respected and you were admired throughout the country. You had been an anchorman for many years before the war started. In the first years of the war, you were clearly on the side of the government. You went along at a time when it was important to get the full truth behind the real situation in South Vietnam. It was also very important that the American people find out the history behind United States involvement in Vietnam since the end of World War II.

"Now, it is true that in the last years of the war you changed your mind and came out against it, but that was much easier to do by then. In the years when it was unpopular to take a stand against the war and when it really counted, you didn't make many waves."

"I never took a stand one way or the other," interrupts the retired newscaster. "i have never expressed an open opinion on any issue. That is not done by any responsible journalist. A journalist only reports the facts that he finds in the world. He goes to great pains to keep his own opinion out of his reporting. I don't think you can even find one instance in my career in which I gave my private opinion."

"That may be true but a newsman doesn't have to openly give his private views in order to slant the news. In the Vietnam War, all he had to do was tell the views of one side. All he had to do was present the justifications given by the United States and South Vietnamese governments for fighting the war, all he had to do was show how the Viet Cong were coming down and causing all the trouble. All he had to say was that the Viet Cong were Communists and being helped by Russia and that the U.S. and its allies were fighting for freedom. Then you showed battle scenes with young American boys being shot and killed by a surreptitious enemy that was hardly seen, and when it was seen, it was wearing all black uniforms. Seeing that alone was enough to enrage any good American.

"You do this kind of reporting and you won't have to give your own opinion in order to sway people's minds in one direction or another. All that is necessary is this one-sided perspective, and the thing is that it is even more effective than giving your opinions openly. This way people think they are getting an objective view of the news. They don't look for any bias, and so they form what they think are fully-informed, objective opinions."

Miller admits, "There were many mistakes made by the news media in coverage of the Vietnam War. There was too much reliance on the official government line and not enough aggressive investigative reporting. I think we all learned from that and have become more skeptical and objective in our news reporting."

"That's what you hear," the first man says, "but, then why was there all that alarmism during the Iran crisis? It didn't seem that the reporting there was as appropriate as it could have been."

"What do you mean?" Miller inquires. "We did quite a bit to show what were the grievances of the Iranians and to show atrocities that had reportedly been committed by the Shah and to show that the CIA helped put the Shah back in power in 1953 after he had been exiled."

"That's true," the first man agrees, "but that was very little in comparison with all the commotion over the taking of the hostages. The whole incident was covered in a very sensationalistic and emotional manner. ABC even had a nightly review of the situation entitled America Held Hostage. That was a clear falsehood. America wasn't being held hostage; 52 Americans were. Now that is a tremendous difference. With all that yellow journalism, there wasn't much room for considering a sound strategy, which was to downplay the situation and wait out the Iranians. That's how Johnson did it with the USS Pueblo."

"There is some truth to that," the anchorman agrees, "but the reporting on Iran was influenced by the mood of the country at the time, which was an impatient and angry one that said America was being pushed around too much."

The first man retorts, "The news media was, as usual, too worried about what network was going to come out best in the ratings. Instead of exploiting sensational issues for the purpose of coming out No. 1 on the ratings, the media should act as an intelligent counter force to national hysterias."

With that the first man turns around and walks back into the hallway where the case was left behind. He takes a large axe out of it and brings it back. The anchorman has a startled look on his face. The two masked men exchange the axe and the AK-47. The man with the axe who wears the shark head moves around to the left side of the bed and moves the anchorman's left arm away from the rest of his body and over side of the bed. The first man points the AK-47 directly at the anchorman.

"Mr. Miller," he says, "we regret having to do this but it is necessary. We wouldn't get the necessary publicity if we didn't. We want you to tell everything we talked about to the news media." With that, the other man raises the axe in a motion to chop Miller's left arm off at the shoulder. Miller is horrified and starts to get out of his bed. The shark man stops him, throws him back in the bed, and gets on top of him. The helmeted man then hands him some scissors. The shark man then proceeds to cut off all of Miller's hair.

16

The next morning you go to Portland to report the vision you had about Miller being attacked. Your parents were surprised that you were in such a hurry to go into Portland. You didn't tell them the real reason you were going--you didn't want to scare them. You merely told them you had to deliver an important message for a friend.

You hope the Portland police will believe this story more readily than the Pittsburgh police believed the one about Senator Rackley. After talking to a policeman at the front desk, you are taken into an office to talk to a sergeant.

"I had this vision this morning that Harry Miller, the former TV newsman, is going to be assaulted by two men. They are going to break into his house and cut his hair off." You pause and notice that the sergeant bends forward slightly with an amused smile. "I know you think I'm crazy," you continue before he has a chance to say anything, "but I've had these visions twice before and they both came true."

"I'm sure they did," he says, still wearing an amused smile on his face and trying to be polite, "but we simply can't do anything on the basis of visions someone has had."

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"Yes, you can. You can get ahold of Miller and tell him to beware. They can set up extra police protection for him, or at least he could hire private guards for his house. If that had been done when I told the Pittsburgh police about my last vision, Senator Rackley wouldn't have been attacked the way he was. Did you read about that?" "Yes," he replies. He takes on a more serious look on his face. "I saw it in the paper this morning.''

"I had a vision that showed everything happening exactly the way it was described in the paper. I told the Pittsburgh police about it the day after I had it. I gave them the full description, and they took it all down. You should call the Pittsburgh police if you want to verify that. They should still have the report. I was there only two days ago. Of course, they didn't want to believe it either, so they probably never notified the Senator.

"Believe me, I'm not pulling your leg or playing a joke of any kind. You can call them, but you better move fast because there probably isn't much time left. That last one didn't happen very long after I had the vision. I had another vision that also came true several days ago. That one was about a writer who was attacked in Florida. I never reported that one because I didn't know it was going to come true. I never had these kinds of visions before. These men could go even further than in my dream and really hurt Miller."

The sergeant takes out a report form. He definitely seems more interested now. He asks for the complete details of the vision. After he finishes taking down the information, he says, "We'll try to see that Mr. Miller gets this information, but we can't guarantee it. Sometimes things like this get delayed, especially since it is an unusual situation. Then there is the problem that Mr. Miller might not pay any attention to it."

You leave the police station feeling you've done everything you can. It sounds like the Portland police are going to do everything they can, but you only wish the sergeant would have sounded more positive about the possibilities of preventing the assault. This time you feel confident in your vision. You definitely believe everything will turn out like in the vision--or worse--unless steps are taken to protect Miller. The way those two men operate with those masks reminds you of Fade to Black in which a young movie fan disturbed by romantic rejection commits murders in the guise of his favorite screen villains.

You drive back home through the snowy countryside. It is relaxing. You didn't get a full night's sleep because you wanted to come here early, and you don't feel completely rested. It will be some time before you feel fully rested. Being back in familiar territory--in the area where you grew up--helps make you feel a little less nervous.

You get back and talk to your parents as you eat lunch. They are happy to see you. You talk about what the job has been like since you started last year. 'You come up with the story that since the work was so taxing your superiors were very understanding when you asked for an extension on your Christmas vacation. You tell your parents they said that you could take as much extra time as you wanted until you felt recuperated. Your parents seem to buy the story although your father seems to wrinkle his brow a little as if having some question, but he doesn't say anything. You know that later, several days from now, he'll ask some probing questions and try to get a clearer picture of the circumstances. You'll have to try to think of a full explanation by then.

You will call your superiors at work as soon as you get a chance and ask them for a leave of absence. You were supposed to report to work yesterday, and no doubt they are wondering what happened. You'll have to do it at a time when your parents can't listen.

Your mother is helpful and supportive as always. She is 5'3" and still relatively slender for her age. She has accumulated a little extra soft cushion of fat with oncoming age, but it isn't very much. There is much gray in her hair but much of the original light brown is left. She smiles often and her dimples are always evident.

"You stay here as long as you need to get rested," your mother says. "You certainly won't be in the way here. We've got plenty of room."

Your brothers and sisters have also left home so you know that is true. If anything, they probably get lonely out here in this isolated place. There aren't many people in Center Lovell. Some of them only live here in the summer. The summers are nice especially since Kezar Lake is nearby.

"I want to get plenty of rest, but that doesn't mean I won't be able to do some work around the house," you say sincerely. "I want to do my share. In fact I was thinking when I was driving up here that I would really like to gather some wood for the fireplace. I haven't done that in a long time."

"It's a little late for that," your mother announces. "Your brother Jeff came and chopped a lot of wood in November. We've got all the wood we need for the rest of the winter."

"The wood is too hard to chop now anyway," your father adds.

"Yea, I know," you answer disappointedly. "I guess I was just fantasizing."

"You don't have to worry very much about having to do work around here," your father goes on. "We've got everything pretty well under control. You better get all the rest you can so you can go back to work soon. They aren't going to like you being away from work for long especially since you are so new. You know there's stress in all jobs. It's something you just have to get used to. It will always be there."

"Yea, I know," you answer trying to sound as if in resigned agreement.

He goes on talking about the need to get accustomed to the difficulties of work. Of course, you don't feel you can tell them the real circumstances behind your deciding to come home. For one thing, you wouldn't want to worry them.

Then also your father never has been very supportive. You've never felt comfortable telling him very much. He always seems uncomfortable with whatever the situation might be. Even when everything is going fine, you can detect a certain anxiety in him. This is the reason he mentioned that there are stresses in all jobs. He is worried that you could get too soft and that you expect to find a job in which there is no stress. You appreciate his concern, but mostly it is his own anxiety that you could become too dependent and stay here for a long time. This is one reason why you didn't want to come home.

When you were a kid, his anxiety used to make you feel like you never did anything right. You tried hard to please him for many years and never seemed to be able to do it. He never seemed satisfied and always found something to criticize. It was only until recently that you realized that it had not meant that there was something wrong with you as you had assumed all that time. You came to notice that your father's entire attitude toward living had a continuous, underlying tone of displeasure and unhappiness, which was in turn rooted in a dissatisfaction with himself.

Later in the day, you make a long distance phone call to the place where you work. You don't tell your supervisor many details except that you need some additional rest because you had some unexpected events come up and had to come see your parents. He doesn't question anything and sounds understanding. He simply tells you to keep him posted on your situation. After hanging up, you know that although he sounded nice about it, there is no guarantee your job will be waiting for you even if you get back very soon. That's a chance you'll have to take. Staying here could be a matter of life and death. For now it seems as if the best thing is to stay, but you never know. That could change.

You think back on the trip you just made from Florida and find it hard to believe that so many things happened to you and that you made it in one piece. You still can't understand some of the things you saw. It seems like a long, uncontrolled dream, and yet you were looking forward to such an enjoyable vacation in Florida. Maybe you'll give a call to the friend you were supposed to meet down there. Wonder what happened.

The thing that still bothers you is why you get these premonitions that come out so exactly true. This reminds you of the movie The Eyes of Laura Mars with Faye Dunaway in which she was able to see murders ahead of time in her mind. You swear you'll never meditate again. That probably has something to do with it. A woman in your meditation class told you she had heard that there had been several instances of people becoming clairvoyant after they had taken up meditation.

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Then you've thought it has nothing to do with meditation. After all, couldn't it be those two men who are putting those mental pictures in your head. You have the fear they could have certain supernatural powers and that could be one of them. They could be trying to communicate with you by giving you those visions.

You thought before that this could all be a matter of your overactive imagination. That it was a sign of your being so exhausted from work that your mind was playing tricks on you, and that on top of that, it was a combination of bad luck and coincidence that you had run into a number of scary situations. Now that you have had three premonitions and two have come true, it's more doubtful that it has been your mind. These two men seem very real. This reminds you of Miller. You have doubts that he will get the message. You've been thinking that you need not worry because you've done all you could by telling the police, but you don't feel comfortable enough with that. You wish there were something more you could do. You think of calling him. That way he would know for sure. The only problem is that he might not believe you. Why should he? A call from a complete stranger over the telephone from Maine? Then again what would he have to lose? He could at least be extra careful and be on the lookout. You figure you can try. You call information in Long Island.

OPERATOR What city?

YOU Uh, I don't know. It's somewhere out on the eastern end of Long Island.

OPERATOR I'm going to have to have the name of some city, I'm sorry.

YOU I don't know. The name is Harry Miller. I don't think he actually lives in any town. I think it is an isolated place, but this is very important. Can't you just try a town out there?

OPERATOR What was the name again?

YOU Harry Miller. (There is a long silence as she takes some time searching the listings.)

OPERATOR I found a Harry Miller in Southampton, but that is an unpublished number.

YOU Oh, I see. Thank you.

You hadn't thought that he wouldn't have his number published, but it makes plenty of sense. You should have thought about that before. It is frustrating. You definitely want to get in touch but can't think of any other way to get his number. You are sure the network where he once worked wouldn't give it out.

You could write, but that would probably never get there on time. Then again it could be several days before those men come looking for him, and the letter would arrive before they did. You call up the reference desk at the public library in Portland to ask for his address. The library gives you a post office box number in Southampton. You hope he checks his mail everyday. You feel a gnawing doubt that he'll get the letter on time or pay much attention to it if he does, but you go ahead and send him a long, detailed letter telling him all the circumstances. You tell him a little bit about yourself but not too much in case the letter falls accidentally into the wrong hands.

Like clockwork, three days later you see on the television news that Harry Miller was invaded in the middle of the night by two masked men and had his hair cut off. No mention is made of any message the men had to give to the American people. You still don't know whether he got your letter in time. You have a feeling he did but ignored it. You wonder what the two men are doing to do next, especially in connection with you.

The following days pass slowly. You do many of the routine chores around the house giving your mother more time for other things, but that still leaves you a lot of free time. You do a lot of reading. You read the newspaper everyday. There are several articles and editorials deploring the attacks on Rackley, Miller, and other violence aimed at well-known people like the Pope and Ronald Reagan. You read books that are lying around the house. You continue reading the horror novel you started in Florida. You also get some books at the library in Portland, but you don't want to go there much because you don't want to leave the house. You feel safer staying in.

You read some psychological self-help books like The Sky's The Limit by Dr. Wayne Dyer and How to Get Everything You Want Out of Life by Dr. Joyce Brothers. You found those titles interesting when you first saw them. After reading the books, you don't think that they delivered what they promised. For one thing, they promised way too much. If nothing else, titles like those help sell the books. People like to be told they can have everything especially if the person talking has a title like doctor.

You also read some magazines, watch plenty of television, and keep up with your favorite soap opera, which is on now.

(Verna is at her gynecologist's office. She has a concerned look on her face. She is being called into his office from the reception room. She greets the doctor and sits down in a chair in front of his desk. She is nervous.)

VERNA The reason I came before my scheduled appointment is that I have some questions that have been bothering me. First of all, you said last time that everything was normal. I just want to make sure of that.

DOCTOR Yes, everything was perfectly normal. I have your folder here in front of me, and as I look it over, I see that everything was just fine.

VERNA Good. It's just that I've been wondering about the baby coming out all right. That's in case I decide to have it. I still haven't decided on that. That's another reason I'm trying to find out all I can so I can make the right decision.

DOCTOR That sounds like a good idea, but I think you might be worrying too much and without good reason.

VERNA I know, Doctor, but I need to find out more so I can have peace of mind.

DOCTOR O.K., let's try to get at all the questions you might have.

VERNA I was wondering whether there might not be some way to look at the fetus to tell exactly what kind of shape it's in.

DOCTOR Well, there is amniocentesis.

VERNA Yes, I know about that, but I want something that can tell me even more. I want to get a very close look. Let me ask you something. I've heard that in the early months of pregnancy you can hardly tell the difference between a human fetus and the fetuses of other animals like monkeys or dogs. Is that true?

DOCTOR That is very true. It is not until the last months of the pregnancy that the human fetus begins to take its own unique form. That takes away from the fire of the anti-abortion people because as long as a human fetus is indistinguishable from the fetuses of many other mammals, then there isn't much ground for saying it should have full human status.

VERNA That's right. So I guess it would be very hard to tell through a test whether a fetus is going to be human or not.

DOCTOR Yes, that's true, but such a test is totally unnecessary since we always know that a fetus lodged in a human will invariably come out to be human.

VERNA Is it possible for a human being and an animal like a dog to have common offspring?

DOCTOR You mean to conceive?

VERNA Yes.

DOCTOR It has never happened before to my knowledge although I've heard speculation that it is at least remotely possible. I believe there has been offspring conceived by two different animal species. I think I heard once of a dog and a raccoon conceiving. But I don't see how all this has anything to do with you or your baby. Why are you asking these questions?

VERNA Oh, I was just curious.

DOCTOR Curious? You mean you made this special appointment just to satisfy your curiosity. That's hard to believe. Don't worry. Feel free to tell me what's bothering you.

VERNA (in a higher-pitched voice) Oh, Doctor, I feel so embarrassed. I don't think I can tell you.

DOCTOR (soothingly) Oh, come on now, Verna. Don't worry about embarrassment. I've encountered just about every problem in my years of practice. What is it?

VERNA This is different.

DOCTOR Oh, I'm sure it can't be that unique.

205

VERNA Oh, yes, it is.

DOCTOR Tell me.

VERNA Doctor, I've tried very hard to figure out who could be the father. I wasn't with any man on the nights the baby could have been conceived, but I did remember something, Doctor.

DOCTOR What's that?

VERNA One night I had sex with my German Shepherd. (The camera fades on the doctor's face, eyes wide open.)

There is a book that you read with great interest. It was lying around the house. Your mother had bought it recently and read it. It is called The Cancer Connection and deals with the growing cancer epidemic caused by the man-made substances in the environment such as artificial food additives, asbestos, and tobacco. It claims cancer can be prevented because it is a disease that has increased as a result of industrial manufacture of chemicals and other substances. In 1900 only one out of twenty-five Americans died of cancer, but by 1975 almost one in five did. The reason for your family's interest in this matter is that your father is dying of cancer. Five months ago, the doctors said he was terminally ill and would probably only survive another six months. At present he looks stronger than he was expected to look by now, but the doctors say he is still near the end. He could last another six months, but he could also die very soon.

You don't doubt that they know what they are talking about. At first, you hoped they would be wrong as in other cases you have heard in which a person pronounced terminally ill with cancer keeps living for years. But your father has definitely deteriorated in the last few months. He has lost a lot of weight, his face looks wasted and has wrinkled dramatically. He gets coughing spells often and walks slowly and painfully in a bent over position. He tries to look strong and calm.

He has angiosarcoma of the liver. Many cancer victims never know the cause of their disease, but in your father's case it is pretty clear. Angiosarcoma of the liver can be caused by the breathing of polyvinyl chloride fumes over a period of time. Your father worked for many years in a PVC manufacturing plant. He quit that job more than 10 years ago, but the cancer doesn't appear until many years after exposure. Your father wasn't aware of the dangers of PVC at the time. He went on working and taking pride in the fact that he was helping produce a very valuable plastic that had many uses including floor tiles, water pipes, phonograph records, dishes, car upholstery, food wrappings, toys, etc.

You want to know the full story behind cancer. What are the products that cause it? You have heard that all kinds of substances that people come into contact with everyday can cause cancer . There are questionable chemicals in cleaners, waxes, polishes, room deodorizers, mouthwashes, insecticides, oven cleaners. There are more than 63,000 recently synthesized chemical compounds in common use.

After you read this book, you want to read more, much more. You are getting angry with the way all these new chemicals have been allowed into the environment without question. Perhaps if a closer investigation of the effects on health of polyvinyl chloride had been made before its use was allowed, your father wouldn't have to be dying today.

Your father says he doesn't feel bitter about it. He says polyvinyl chloride is a very useful substance and somebody had to undergo the risks. It was one of the hazards of the job. In spite of what he says, you seem to detect a definite bitterness and resentment in him. However, he was always a cantankerous type, often griping and displeased with something or someone. The illness has only magnified what was already a bad character trait. This whole situation with the cancer is another big reason you were hesitant about coming home. You have always wanted to avoid your father because he is always arguing about one thing or another, but now it is worse and it is very depressing to see him dying. You honestly felt a dread in having to come see him die although being here you can be a great help to your mother who is spending much time and energy in taking care of him.

You've always been able to get along better with your mother although at times she is meddlesome and overprotective even at your age. You would like to get closer to your father--now in his last days--but he makes it hard. He won't soften up even now. You don't know what is going through his mind. It's as if he doesn't want to believe he is going to die. You can understand that. If you were in his position, you would probably have a hard time accepting it also. You have a hard time accepting it the way it is now.

If only he would realize that he doesn't have much time to be with the ones he has lived with for so much of his life. If only he would find the desire to make his last days as pleasant as possible for himself and his wife and his family. He could at least leave some pleasant memories of himself after he is gone. He is in constant pain; sometimes it is very acute. You are aware of that, but it definitely seems that apart from the very real pain he is feeling, he seems intent in causing additional problems. He seems to get a joy out of being cross. He complains about the food, about his clothes, about the sheets, about the cold, about the light, about the noise, about your mother not doing things right.

You would like very much to get closer to him. You would like to tell him you love him--and mean it. For many years, you haven't felt like you loved him. You used to feel guilty about it. Then you realized he never showed any love to you or to anyone else for that matter. He was at times tender to your mother and seemed to take some interest in your brother John, the oldest of the children, but everyone else was mostly ignored. You often felt as if your father had not wanted you to be born. Your mother definitely wanted you but not him. You sometimes wondered whether you might have been from a different father and that he suspected it. You dismissed that as nonsense. Your father is coughing in the next room. He is yelling for your mother to come. She is probably in the kitchen getting some medicine for him. You would like to go help but you've tried helping in situations like this, and he only gets more exasperated and mad. Better to stay out of it. Your mother understands.

You've been here two weeks and are getting to enjoy staying here. You like the isolated calm and peace. What you find hard to live with is your father's condition. He is suffering greater pain everyday. It is hard to see anyone in such a condition and it is harder when you can't do anything about it. It's a matter of time.

You don't know how much longer you will stay here. You feel more confident about leaving again since nothing unusual has happened. You don't feel persecuted as you did before. This is in spite of the fact that Harry Miller was attacked. It all happened just like in your vision.

It is a little surprising that he didn't report your letter to the police or to the news media so that you could be used in any later cases in which you might get a premonition. It is surprising that neither the Portland police nor the Pittsburgh police have gotten in contact with you either, but it is just as good because you don't think you are ready for all that attention and publicity. At this time, it would not be good for your nerves. It would also expose you to those two men--if they don't already know about you.

The police could also be wondering whether you might not be an accomplice or at least be personally familiar with the two men. They may be conducting investigations and building up a criminal case against you. That's all you need--to be arrested as a suspect.

In spite of all this, you still feel secure that the worst is over. It is midnight now and you are lying in bed reading before you go to sleep. You are reading the newspaper which you hadn't had the chance to look at today. There are the usual items on the growing discontent with Reagan's economic policies and questions on how he ever got elected. There is an editorial on the large number of corporate mergers since Reagan came into office.

210

At the bottom of the front page, there is a heading saying: HORROR NOVELIST BURNS DOWN FORMER HIGH SCHOOL. The article is about your favorite novelist--from right here in Maine--and also the most successful horror fiction writer around, Stephen King. You've read almost all of his books. It seems he set fire to his former high school and the building burned to the ground. It is noted that an interest in fire was reflected in some of his writings. Two of his earlier novels dealt with the subject of pyrokinesis. The novels were Carrie and Firestarter.

At the end of the article, there are some statements by a psychiatrist trying to explain what might have motivated the author. You don't pay much attention to what the psychiatrist has to say about him except that you notice he mentions something about "a case of arrested development."

You are surprised that King did that. From interviews and articles about him that you had read, it had seemed that he was a normal person. On the other hand, those photographs of him on the back of his books were usually scary. You remember one in particular in which he had this laser sharp stare through intense eyes from behind thick glasses. It takes you a half-hour to get to sleep after thinking of that.

In the middle of the night, you wake up suffocating. There is a heavy pressure on your mouth that won't relent. You can't move your arms to take away whatever is obstructing your mouth. You were in a heavy sleep and now you open your eyes to test if you are awake. The entire room is still completely dark.

A force rolls you over on your right side and then faces you down on the bed. You feel a weight on your back. All the time, there is this tight pressure around your mouth. You try to move your head sideways with as much effort as possible, but there is pressure to keep it set. You realize now that this is no dream. You are wide awake, and the pressure on your mouth is a strong human hand. The weight on your back is that of someone sitting on you, probably the same person with a hand on your mouth. Another person is now beginning to tie your hands behind your back with what feels like a strong twine. You try to pull your hands away but are unable to. As you pull, the tightly tied twine digs into your flesh.

Next a thick cloth is put around your mouth and tied behind your neck. You try to turn your head to see who it is, but they won't let you. They now tie a heavy, rolled cloth around your eyes. The person who was sitting on top of you gets up. Something pointed is pressed against your back.

"Don't try anything smart." The voice of a man talks in a low and firm tone right into your ear. As he says that, you feel the sharp object jabbed hard into you. You realize that it is the barrel of a gun. They raise you up from the bed, turn you around, and start walking you forward. The gun is kept in your back the whole time. They put a heavy coat on your shoulders.

They guide you out of your room and through the house very slowly and quietly. They take you out though what you figure is the back door. You wish you could break away and run, but that gun is right there. They walk you carefully away from the house making very little noise. The only sound that can be heard is the steady crunch of everyone's feet in the snow. It sounds extremely loud to you, and you hope it's loud enough to wake up your parents but it probably isn't. Often your father gets up at night on account of pain, but it is your luck that he is probably sound asleep. He wouldn't be able to do anything anyway if he did notice. Of course he could call the police, but it occurs to you that your captors have almost certainly cut the telephone line.

After a long walk, you are stopped. You hear a car door open right in front of you. "Get in," the man behind you holding the gun says. You go into the car. He nudges you to make you slide over and then follows you. The door slams shut. The front door opens and then shuts. The engine of the car is started. You are evidently in the back seat. The car starts to move slowly down the road leading away from your house. Eventually it comes to pavement and keeps going for a long time. You try to figure the turns it is making, but you aren't sure. It seems to be heading toward Portland, The man beside you takes off your gag. You can now breathe much more easily.

You keep traveling for what seems several hours. The car is obviously moving fast on some highway. No one says a thing. You are afraid to ask any questions. They still leave the blindfold on. Obviously they don't want you to see where you are going. The man with you takes the twine off your hands and gives you some clothes to put on. They say they took them from your closet before waking you up. After you put on the clothes, he ties your hands again.

Eventually the car slows down and starts making stops and turns.

You are obviously in some town or city, but you don't hear much noise outside. You figure it must be at least getting close to daybreak. The car stops. The person next to you takes off your blindfold. There is daylight, but the sun hasn't risen yet. The skies are mostly clear. There is a railroad track about two hundred feet ahead with a freight train on it standing still.

The one next to you is wearing the shark head, but the driver is not wearing head gear. The driver gets out of the car and takes out the long case that you had seen him carrying to Harry Miller's house. He has a dark complexion, a beard, and is missing the arm. It is the two men from your visions who have captured you.

The other man gives you instructions in a solid voice, "We are going to get on that freight train. I am going to cut your hands free but don't try to get away or try anything else smart, or we will shoot you. When we get out, walk in front of us straight toward an empty car right ahead of us. Walk calmly and naturally. You have behaved very well so far. Keep it up and nothing will happen."

He takes a knife and cuts the cord that is binding your hands. He gets out and waits for you a few steps back from the door. You get out slowly. You don't want him to think you are making any fast moves. You start walking toward the train as he instructed. He closes the car door and follows. The other man carries the long black case under his right arm. Of course, you know what is in it. They walk behind you and a few feet to your left. The shark man keeps up in spite of his terrible limp. He limps so badly that you even feel a little pang of pity.

It looks like you are at the outer edges of a railroad yard. There are several tracks on the ground, You have to start walking over some of them to get to the freight train ahead. It is the only train at this end of the yard. Down the line to the left, there are more trains and you can see a tower further down. There is no one in sight and along the fields there are mainly vacant lots. It looks like an old part of town. There are a few old houses and other buildings that can be seen nearby. No doubt buildings stood on those vacant lots for many years but were demolished. These men picked a good spot where they knew it would be hard to be seen.

"Get into the rail car just to the right," the one-armed man says. He has what sounds like a Turkish or Arabic accent. You met some foreign students while in college so you have a rough idea. Both of the men are carrying knapsacks. The door to the car is open. You climb on and roll on the floor to get in position to stand up. The one-arm Arab struggles to climb on by himself but needs the help of the other who calmly and gently supports him by the arm. You notice that the shark man did not have his gun out. No doubt it is in his coat pocket. A cold draft comes through the freight car since the other door is open. The Arab goes to close it. You stand still and wait for them to instruct you. The empty car has a musty smell of rotten vegetables. The shark man climbs on and closes the door except for a small opening. The Arab opens his knapsack, takes out a pair of heavy leather gloves and hands them to you. He doesn't say a thing as he gives them to you. You take them and gladly put them on. Your fingers feel frozen. It is very cold, probably close to 0 degrees. The gloves are used but thick and have a heavy woolen lining inside.

215

"These gloves are very good." you tell him after you put them on. "Thank you. I needed them." You smile and act friendly.

"Sit down," shark man orders you. You obey immediately. They also sit down on the floor. He takes off his mask. He is clearly Oriental--Chinese or Vietnamese.

The Oriental continues, "This train is going to leave before long. We are going to be traveling by train for at least two days. We don't want to go by car because they are looking for us. They will probably have roadblocks set up for us all over the East. We have a better chance in the West. I'm afraid we can't offer you the finest conveniences, but we won't starve. We have brought enough food to last several days, and we can always get some more if we need it. We are sorry that it is going to be an uncomfortable trip. It is very cold these days, but we will have to do our best to keep warm."

"I don't understand why you want me along," you finally speak up. You try to keep it on a calm and friendly tone although you are starting to feel indignant. The polite apologies for putting you through this seem unnecessary and insincere.

"We want you to help us take an important message to the American people," the Arab continues in a dramatic and genuine tone. "There are things that the American people must know and think about. It is very important for their own safety and for the well-being of the rest of the world. We chose you after looking very carefully for the right person."

"I don't see why you have to have me, or anybody else for that matter. Why can't you give the American people the message by yourself?" you ask nervously.

"We need for you to take the message for us. It would be much more effective that way. It is much better if an American tells them what needs to be done. We chose you because you have certain necessary characteristics, and we want to try to make you understand what the problems are. It will not be easy to do. We need a long time to explain all that needs to be understood. It takes a long time to overcome years of incorrect information and emotional hysteria. We only have a few days but we will do our best. We want to convince you--an average citizen--of at least some of the things we have to say. If we can do that, there is hope."

"How will they hear about it? What are you planning? You' re going to hurt me to get publicity, I know," you accuse them excitedly.

"No, don't worry about that," the same man replies calmly. At that second, the railroad car jerks forward, and then the sound of cars bumping into each other can be heard successively down the line. The Oriental gets up and looks out the door. "It looks like we are going to go," he comments. He keeps staring out the door. The train soon starts moving very slowly. You are disturbed by the interruption because you wanted to hear more about what their plans are and whether they are planning to hurt you. You are hardly concerned whether the train is moving.

"What are you going to do to me?'' you demand impatiently. You don't want to get them mad at you by asking too many questions, but you can't help it.

"We are only going to explain to you the danger that the United States is in if it continues its present policies in dealing with other nations," the Arab assures. "We will not hurt you."

"How can I be sure of that?" you ask.

"Believe us and don't worry about it," he answers.

"Get up and come here," the Oriental tells you and the Arab. He walks to the corner least likely to be seen clearly by any inspector looking into the cars. "A man is coming up looking in the cars. Don't make any noise." He had been looking out the first door. The train has stopped moving. You all wait quietly crouched in the corner for several minutes. You hope that the inspector will see you so you can be rescued. You then notice what clearly looks like the barrel of a gun sticking forward in the pockets of the Arab's jacket. You immediately realize that if you are discovered, it won't do any good because these men will simply use you as a hostage to get away. That is obviously another reason they want you along in the first place.

The inspector's footsteps outside can be heard as he passes by the car next to you. They sound louder as he comes even with your car. He is very close. He will be coming up to the door any second. You don't know what you want to happen. He stops at the door. You expect to see his head any minute. His steps are heard again. He is walking away now, going to the next car. He never even stuck his head in.

"He won't come back to look again," the Oriental says in a low voice.

"How can I believe I'm going to be safe?" you return to the former subject of conversation. "I know you have hurt other people." As soon as you say that, you regret it.

The Oriental turns to you calmly. "That was only in their case. You don't have to worry. They committed great wrongs, but you are only guilty of minor ones."

"I didn't even know about any minor ones. What are they?" you ask.

"Just one," he answers. "Ignorance of your government's actions."

There is a long moment of silence as you pause to try to understand what he means. You also think about the fact that he wasn't surprised by your knowing of the people they hurt before. You think about leaving the matter alone, but your curiosity won't let you.

"You knew that I knew about those people?" you ask unobtrusively. "Yes," the Oriental man replies but doesn't say anymore.

"How could you know?" you press the matter further.

"We were the ones who communicated it to you," the Arab answers very confidently. He doesn't say anymore. He obviously doesn't want to talk about it. There isn't much else to say. It seems clear that he is telling the truth. You are still very curious about how they communicated with you, but it will probably be clear later on. The train starts moving again. The Oriental man get up to look out the door. He seems fidgety about the trip. The Arab also gets up to look. They pace about a little as the train gets going and finally come back to sit down once it has reached full speed.

It continues to feel very cold, You still don't know what town you are in. You figure it is someplace in Massachusetts judging by how long the car trip took down here. It could be Worcester.

The one-armed man that looks like an Arab has a short, well-trimmed beard, a dark complexion, and heavy black hair. He is handsome and thin but strong-looking. The Oriental also has a dark complexion and straight medium-length hair. He has a concerned look on his face but still manages to smile often. He is very thin. The Arab is more preoccupied with thoughts than the Oriental one but both of them act warmly and gently. They have treated you with respect for the most part. They were more rough when they took you from the house, but they calmed down after that. It is hard to believe that these men are capable of being so violent. It is true that they were apologetic to their last two victims. They are violent only to the extent that is necessary. You certainly hope they won't be capable of something like murder or rape.

The Arab comes back to the corner and says, "Let's sit down and talk." After they both sit down, he continues, "My name is Salman. My friend here is Ky. I am from Iran. He is from Vietnam. We suffered as children in our countries. As you can see, I am missing my arm. That arm was chopped off when I was a young boy by the Savak, the secret police of the Shah of Iran. They did that to force my father out of hiding. He was a dissident opposed to the government of the Shah. They did that kind of thing to other children as well, and there were other forms of torture such as making people walk on hot metal bars. The Shah had been installed and was supported by the United States and the Savak had been partially trained by the United States.

"My friend Ky was also injured as a child. He was a patient at the Bach Mai Hospital in Hanoi and was permanently crippled when Nixon ordered American bombings in Christmas of 1972. Somehow the hospital was bombed.'"

Ky speaks in hard to understand English. "There was big red cross on roof, but it was bombed anyway. Someone later said it was a mistake by one of the airplanes."

220

Salman goes on to explain in detail the history of events leading up to American involvement in Vietnam. Ky makes several comments during the explanation. As they talk, they take out cans of food and other items from their knapsacks to be served for lunch. They take out tuna, pork and beans, mayonnaise, bread, corn chips, and a jar of black pitted olives. They also have paper plates and plastic utensils, which they offer to you. They tell you to help yourself to whatever food you want. You serve yourself gladly because you are by now very hungry.

All of you continue the discussion for the rest of the afternoon. You also eat a little more. Salman does most of the talking. He goes on to talk about Iran in detail after the discussion of the Vietnam era. He is very well informed as far as you can tell. You don't find the discussion as boring as you first expected. You ask him some tough questions, and he doesn't seem offended by them. He tries to answer all of them.

"How did you gain all this knowledge of political events?" you ask Salman.

"I have always had first-hand knowledge of events in Iran because my father was always very involved in political affairs. I also learned a lot at George Washington University in Washington, D.C. where I was studying economics."

"What are you doing now?" you ask him.

"I am deeply involved in this project." That is all he says and doesn't seem to want to go into what other things he is doing at this time.

Both Salman and Ky tell you about their past lives and their families and how much they miss them. They also listen to you about yourself. Ky married 5 years ago and soon after that his wife had a son. He has never been in the United States before a few days ago. He has been poor all his life. Salman has never been married and was brought up in a middle class environment. He decided to study economics because he wanted to go into government work in Iran.

The train rides slowly all day. In the early evening, it arrives in a city and stops for a long time. Eventually Salman says, "This train may not leave for a long time, maybe not until tomorrow. I will go see." He gets off and is gone for a long time. You and Ky continue talking. You feel very relaxed with both of them now. It is surprising. At first you felt distrustful and hostile. You argued with Salman over what he said. During a moment of silence, you realize that you still don't know what they intend to do with you. You are still their captive.

Salman returns, "It doesn't look like this train is moving until tomorrow, but I don't see any others that seem to be going very soon either. I think we better stay with this one. We'll sleep right in here, but first let's go see if we can find a restroom somewhere."

You all like the idea and start walking carefully so you won't be seen. They don't remind you not to run, but you know it is understood that they won't like it if you do. You have to walk a long way before you find a way to get out of the railroad yard without being seen. They walk behind you. You walk around on the dark streets of this unknown city's downtown area. You don't know if you'll be able to find any place open. Eventually you find a bar and go in there. You take turns going in. You are not seen by many people.

You consider the idea of running away from them but are too afraid Salman will catch you easily or even shoot you so you won't talk. You feel safe enough with them now that you don't feel a great urge to get away. You even feel some curiosity about what is going to happen. You are getting to like this life of adventure even if it is painful and uncertain many times. On the other hand, you keep wondering whether it might not be wiser to take the risk of escaping since you have no idea of what might happen ahead.

You can't make a decision by the time you return to the railroad yard. The three of you are very careful. You see a yardman walking a distance to the left. He is coming this way walking between you and the train on which you are riding. You see him in plenty of time to hide behind a railroad car. He is walking slowly, and it is a long time before he passes and disappears from sight. At that point, you all go back toward the car you were in before.

As you approach the car, you notice for the first time that it is located directly behind two chemical tank cars. You don't think much of it at first, but then once inside the car, you tell them, "We should move to another car. This one is too close to those chemical tank cars. If there's an accident, they could explode. There have been a lot more train derailments in the last few years because of old tracks that have not been repaired like they should."

"Oh, don't worry about it,'' Salman answers without concern. "Nothing is going to happen." Everyone sits down again and a conversation begins. You figure it's useless to insist on moving to another car so you forget about it.

You talk for another hour or two and then go to sleep. You can still feel the cold very much, but your body has become numb to it. Salman closes the doors completely. You hope that nothing will happen through the night. It is hard to get to sleep because of the cold. During the night, you wake up feeling very uncomfortable but go back to sleep each time. The others don't sleep well either. You can tell from their tossing and turning. You wonder if you could freeze in your sleep. It gets to where you feel very numb. Then if you don't freeze, you could get a bad case of frostbite. Tonight is not as cold as the past few nights, but it is still definitely freezing. It is at least in the high 20's. You are very glad when morning comes except that it seems colder. All of you pace around inside the car to get warm. Salman and Ky keep looking out the door to check. Your body is sore and stiff from sleeping on the hard floor and from the cruel cold. You later sit down to eat. It is the same food you ate yesterday. The cans are very cold to the touch, and it is hard to swallow the food because it is so cold. You're hungry, though, and eat plenty anyway. The cold always makes you more hungry.

The train doesn't start moving until much later, past 9 in the morning. Once it is under way and it appears that all is well, everyone relaxes and a conversation starts up again. After some time, you get the courage to ask the question that has been bothering you for a long time.

You ask, "How was it that you were able to communicate with me with those visions you put in my head?" Salman does not say anything. He is definitely made uncomfortable as he fidgets around and looks at the floor.

Finally he begins, "We have special powers. We are operating in a supernatural realm. We can't tell you where we live now, but we can do many things that most people can't. We are especially strong in our mental abilities.

"You see we both died in the last several years. We are what most people would call ghosts although, as you can see, we are completely embodied in the human flesh. Ky died five years ago when he was out in a remote field near his farm. He stepped on a mine that had been left over from the Vietnam War. It was hidden, of course, so he never saw it. There were many mines left over from the Vietnam War. I was killed, along with several other people, in a bombing by Muslim extremists in Tehran. This happened last year."

"How did you get to this country?" you ask excitedly.

"That is a very complicated matter," Salman answers.

"What I really want to know is where did you come into the country," you clarify.

"We came in through Florida," he answers.

"Was it near Panama City?" you ask anxiously.

"Yes."

"So did you know about me all along?" you ask.

"Yes, we did," Ky interjects.

"You were near me on the beach that night?" you continue.

"Yes," Salman answers. They go on to explain what it is to be like them and what powers they have. They give you many details, but there are some things they say they cannot tell you.

At four o'clock that afternoon, the train passes through Gary, Indiana, as Salman, Ky, and you discuss their supernatural state. The train suddenly and violently derails. Sparks fly. The chemical tanks are ignited and cause a spectacular explosion that causes everything around to rise two hundred feet in the air. It takes many hours to put out the fire. Not a trace of human bodies is ever found.