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Chapter 1

Hostility and Friendship

Wednesday, May 27

A deep purring from far away got louder and louder until it pounded and rang in Tork’s ears. His eyes blinked wide open, and he cursed the damn phone for making such a racket. He grabbed the handset and yelled into the mouthpiece, but the sound that came out was a very sleepy, “Yeah, what da ya want?” The reply echoing in his ear and begging for help was from someone he had not seen in years—well, it seemed like years, yet it was only one or two. Considering how he felt, time was unimportant right then.

“Tork, it’s Cal. I need your help. I’m in real trouble and you’re the only one I can turn to.”

“Cal, what the hell? Oh, never mind, what’s the problem? What have you gotten yourself into this time?” He had not heard from Cal Varner for a couple of years, and every time he did, it was about money. Cal had an unquenchable need for money. “How much do you need and where the hell are you? The last time I sent you any money, it was to Bolivia, Cal, and when are you going to repay me?”

The phone was silent for a moment. Tork could hear Cal’s heavy breathing like he was very tense, almost like he was afraid to move. He could sense him looking around, as if they were watching him.

“Tork, I’ve stumbled onto something big, and I don’t know who to turn to. I just do not know what to do. You’ve got to help me, somehow. Please! Can you help?”

Ever since they were children, Tork was always getting Cal out of trouble. If it wasn’t a woman, it was his big mouth. “Cal, where are you?”

“Sausalito. I’m being followed, and I slipped in off the freeway to call you. I think I lost him, but I’m not sure.”

He seemed to be calming down and starting to use his brain. His thinking was coming back and he seemed to be breathing normally, and the panic in his voice was gone. It appeared he was more rational than he was before. Tork could get down to business now and find out what was going on and how he could help Cal out of another mess he had gotten into. Normally he is a very quick-witted guy, so Tork thought something had to really scare him, for him to be in such a panic.

“Cal, just what have you found? What’s bothering you? You’re not making any sense. Can I meet you somewhere in Frisco?”

“Tork, I don’t know how to start. I was driving back from Vegas yesterday, and I drove to Boulder City to see Jack Peterson. You remember him?”

“Yeah,” Tork said.

“Well, he was out of town, so I took Highway 95 to Needles. I didn’t want to return to Vegas, so I thought I’d pick up I-40 and come into LA that way. It was late afternoon when I started, and it was getting late when I arrived in Needles. I grabbed a cola and a quick pee stop there and headed on out.” Cal hesitated, listening.

“Are you there, Cal? Don’t hang up on me.”

“I was about fifty or sixty miles past Needles when the car started to act up, probably got bad gas when I fueled up in Nevada,” Cal continued. “The car started to buck and jerk so badly I decided to pull off at the next exit. I pulled off and started north toward some place called Kelso. It was getting late, and I figured I could find something open to get the car fixed or a motel to spend the night. But there was nothing, so I headed back toward I-40 hoping to find something at the next exit. The car’s bucking and jerking were getting worse, so I started looking for a side road. Thought maybe a rancher or farmer might be available to help. As I drove, I spotted a side road. It looked like the closest road to civilization, so I took it. I had gone about five or six miles when I hit a washout.

“The gully was too deep to go across, and I figured it was a summer flash flood that caused it. They’re common here this time of year. I slowed and was trying to figure a way around it when I noticed another side road just to the right of the washout. I swung the car over so I could see it better and hoped it would take me around the gully. A broken destination sign was lying on the ground, and I got out of the car to read it. I needed to see if it would get me to a town or someplace to get the car repaired. I got back in and coached my heap on. If it wasn’t for bad luck, I guess I wouldn’t have had any at all. Like in Vegas, it was just rotten.”

“Cal,” Tork interrupted, “get to the point, will you, please?”

“Sorry, Tork, but I almost have to give you all the details.”

Boy, Tork thought, this is going to take all night. Cal continued and Tork decided to be patient and let him finish.

“Where was I?” Cal said, “Oh yeah. The road was getting worse and worse, and I felt like I was going to be out there forever. As I drove, the road got narrower and narrower, so close the bushes were scraping the side of the car. It didn’t look like anyone had been out there for years. I was about to look for a place to turn around when I suddenly noticed the road start to widen ahead of me. I approached the wider part of the road, and I could see in my headlights what seemed to be new asphalt ahead of me. I couldn’t figure out what was going on. Everything looked okay to me, but still looked wrong. I just couldn’t put my finger on it. There I was, in the middle of nowhere heading nowhere, totally lost with a bad running engine and a great road appearing out of nowhere. I was beginning to wonder if I was going nuts or if I was just tired. It didn’t figure. I was driving through a thickly overgrown road, and suddenly there appears new asphalt on the highway. I was right. As the car picked up on the new pavement, the ride was suddenly very smooth, and the road widened out. It was if someone had built a new road and forgot to tell anyone about it. Nowhere in sight could I see other cars, nor could I see any farmhouses or lights of any kind around me. I don’t mind telling you, I was starting to feel better, figuring that a town was very close.”

Tork thought for a moment and said, “Look, Cal, I don’t mean to be pushy, but could you maybe, just maybe, get a little closer to the point, huh?”

Cal, taken aback by Tork’s prompting, wiped the sweat from his face. In addition, his nerves were getting the best of him, and although it was a hot night, he could almost feel a chill starting. Cal continued, “Well, I hadn’t gone more than a mile when I realized I was not on a road. I could see no cat’s-eyes or centerlines out there anywhere, and I had that feeling again.”

Suddenly, Cal went silent. Tork could hardly hear him breathing over the phone. Tork become suddenly alert. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

Very quietly, Cal said, “Tork, I think they’ve found me. I’ve got to go. Meet me at Mo’s. I’ll try to get there by daylight. Please, buddy, I need your help.”

Cal had Tork scared and worried. His tone of voice and the unfinished story had him wondering just what Cal had gotten into. Tork looked at the clock. It was just past three thirty in the morning. He got up and hurriedly showered, dressed, and got out his 9mm automatic. He checked the magazine, picked up a spare clip, and dropped it into his pocket. Then he tucked the automatic into his waistband knowing the penalty for having a gun in his possession was hazardous to his health.

Since the merger between the United States, Canada, and Mexico had divided the country into three geological sections known as North America and Congress had eliminated the constitution by merging together and erasing all borders, constitutional rights were transferred to the UN Mandate of Articles. It made the ownership or possession of a weapon or a firearm of any kind illegal. This had created the night of guns for peace when the new Congress permitted the UN forces to enter the country and homes to confiscate all weapons in all three sections. The new country had now been subjected to the indignity of being serfs.

Tork had crossed the Oakland Bay Bridge to Frisco and was on his way to Mo’s Place, a rather out-of-the-way all-night diner, a friendly place. Mo’s Place was on a backstreet, an all-night diner frequented by night workers and insomniacs. It had good food, coffee, and friendly people. The best food was there. Mo Brodrick owned it, an old friend of Tork and Cal’s. The diner was a favorite of the local constabulary, a frequent stop for the beat cops and a safe place for them to meet. Cal knew he would be safe there if he could make it in one piece. With the country virtually police-controlled, it paid to know them.

Tork pulled up in the small parking lot and looked for Cal’s car. It wasn’t there. He had hoped Cal would have made it before he did, for he was closer than Tork. Also, Tork had to shower and dress before leaving.

When Tork arrived, he went in looking for Cal and thought maybe he might have parked on the street and walked down to Mo’s.

“Hi, Charlene,” Tork called out to the redheaded server. “How yah been, ginger? Still my sweetie?”

Charlene smiled, winked, and replied, “Sure, sweetheart, and yer still the kidder. What brings you out this early in the morning?”

“Oh, just meeting Cal. Have you seen him?”

“No,” was her reply. “I haven’t seen him for some time, but Mo just said he thought he saw his car go by. He told me it seemed odd. Said Cal usually parked in the rear and comes in from there.”

“Thanks, Charlene. Which direction was he going?”

“Toward the bay,” she replied.

It concerned Tork for he hoped he had arrived in time. If Cal was headed for the bay, he was going to come around back and park behind Mo’s. He had to go up two blocks and circle back to the parking lot in the rear. Tork went to the back of the diner and opened the door. Just as the door opened, he saw two men pulling Cal from his car. One of them held a gun in his left hand and tried to pull Cal out of his car with his right. The second guy kept getting in the way of his partner.

It was the edge Tork needed. He slipped up behind them both and cracked one of the men across the head with his 9 mm. He went down quickly. The other turned to see what had happened. Tork shoved the gun deep in his gut and said, “Drop it, stupid, or I’ll blow your spleen all over the parking lot.”

He was good, and he was fast. Before Tork could pull the trigger, the man had let go of Cal. Sidestepping and grabbing Tork’s gun, he pushed himself back and with his gun in hand slapped Tork across the head. Tork dropped as fast as the other guy. He found himself on his knees trying to protect himself and to see where he had gone wrong when he was hit a second time. Everything slowly started to fade. Grays became blacks. He could hear someone in that black spinning pit calling his name. As they called, the name got louder and closer. Then a blurred image started to take shape and blackness.

“Tork, Tork, wake up! Wake up! Are you okay?”

Another voice was saying something. Tork wasn’t sure who it was, but it was somehow familiar. His eyes opened, and as his senses returned, he could feel the pounding in his head. Boy, he thought, I need a big bottle of Lortab right now.

Why couldn’t it have been simply, “I need money,” when Tork asked Cal what he needed when he called him? No, nothing’s that simple with Cal. Tork guessed that’s what friendship was for. Tork got stuck with all the bumps and bruises and Cal gets out of trouble.

A dark void suddenly changing to multicolored lights, echoing sounds, and noises enveloped him. Stars and waving colored ribbons were all around him. He felt himself drifting off as the noises and sounds around him faded in and out. Then the waving colors slowly drifted into blackness.

Tork lay there unconscious, as Cal and Charlene turned him over. Cal took his pulse and breathed a sigh of relief when he felt a strong and steady pulse. “He’s okay,” he said. “Just out like a light.”

Charlene felt the strain release and the tears flowed across her cheeks. A little “thank God” escaped her lips.

Others in the restaurant had heard the commotion and came out in time to see a car leave the area and Charlene and Cal kneeling over Tork. Charlene picked up Tork’s gun and put it under her apron.

Realizing the police would soon be there, Cal said, “Quick, Charlene, give me the gun before the cops get here.” Cal quickly stuffed the gun in his waistband in the middle of his back. He knew what could happen if the police caught anyone with a gun. It could mean years in a federal or a UN prison.

The new laws allowed for the UN to build prisons and staff them with their own personnel. The host country then paid for them out of tax money. It was part of the UN law that a previous president signed and was never ratified by Congress until this administration took over. It also meant that the new American soldiers or civilian had no rights anywhere in the world including all of North America. Americans were now under foreign control—UN control to be exact.