by W.H. Harrod
~~ Chapter Nine
“Allison Marie Carter, are you crying?” inquired Sam as he adjusted the driver’s seat to accommodate his long legs. “Why I believe you are crying. I do see a tear on that pretty face. I have to admit, I always did suspect you kind of had a little crush on me, and now I know I was right.”
By this time the bus and its cargo were up to a speed more consistent with the other vehicles traveling west on Interstate 40; every passenger in the vehicle, for the moment at least, was happy and at peace with the world. Even Bobby’s previously ashen pallor had changed to a color more closely associated with a live human being. Ernest sat by himself on the rear seat enjoying his grease dripping, nostril pleasing, onion-fried burger recently delivered into his personal care, he proclaimed, by a messenger from on high. Allison, meanwhile, busied herself attempting to prove Sam wrong as she turned away from his exaggerated display of conceit.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” answered Allison, her face still turned towards the window. “You better not say something stupid like it must be a woman thing because there have been rumors spread around over the years that I have a tendency to turn rather surly when I’m accosted by individuals displaying anything that resembles a misogynistic attitude. Besides, I have a very handsome husband at home who makes you look like a geek.”
Both Sam and Allison laughed then as Allison reached across to clasp Sam’s right hand and squeeze it tightly. They had picked up right where they left off in ‘69. There was nothing romantic about their relationship, and there never had been. A special connection existed between them back then, and obviously, it remained. This having been reestablished, they could now go forward.
“How in the hell did you get here?” asked Allison. “How did you know where we were? What made you change your mind?” The earlier smile on Allison’s face had been replaced by a look of confusion.
“Before I tell you what happened, I have to give you a message from your husband whom I suspect must be the most understanding and supportive human being I’ve ever talked to. Where did you find this guy? How could a man be that trusting? All I can say is I hate him! It’s guys like him that ruin it for the rest of us slobs. But anyway, he told me to tell you when I saw you, and I quote, ‘Turn on that damn cell phone you carry in your purse and, occasionally, let him know you are still alive. Also, no skinny dipping!’ I can understand the first message, but is this second request due to some kinky thing you guys do back there on the farm?”
Allison frowned “You know we don’t live on a farm. We live in a lovely small town located right in the middle of the universe. His remark about the skinny dipping must relate to the stories I told him about you guys jumping in every mud hole, pond, creek, river, or lake we came across when we made the trip back in ‘69.”
“Okay! Yes, I did get wet a time or two back then. It also occurs to me that you didn’t. For some reason you were not in any mood to be taking your clothing off in front the three nicest guys you could ever expect to escape from California with.” Sam lapsed into thought. “Why was that? Why didn’t you go swimming with us?”
Before Allison could respond, Sam turned to Ernest. “Hey Ernest, how come we didn’t make Allison get au naturel and come swimming with us?”
Ernest, having finished one of his prized burgers, was at peace with the world, maybe even the entire universe. The pleased look on his face conveyed a message that indicated the onion-fried burger had lived up to his expectations -- that his recollection, for once, had not failed him, and he wasn’t going to let anyone steal this moment so quickly.
“Please don’t talk to me. I’m reliving this wonderful event in my mind. It’s getting better and better.” Having said this he went back to reliving the experience.
Allison observed Sam as he smiled into the mirror that reflected his old friend’s enjoyment. Bobby had fallen back into a much more restful sleep. When Sam gave indications he would ask the same question of Bobby, Allison cut him off before he could get the words out of his mouth by first pointing back to Bobby and then placing her finger up to her lips.
Sam got the message. “Well, I guess it’s up to you to explain your actions young lady or, in this case, your lack of action.”
Allison knew the reasons she could not be a part of their childlike frolicking so long ago. She also wondered at the time if she would ever be able to allow the child inside of her to come out to play again. “Maybe I’ll be able to answer that question for you someday, Sam. I hope I’ll be able to do that.”
In an obvious attempt to change the subject, Allison brought up another matter. She had taken a close inventory of Sam’s appearance during the few chaotic minutes when they stood outside the vehicles along the highway. She noticed that he maintained the same lean six-foot tall wiry figure and still owned all of his original hair though now streaked with grey and shorter by at least a foot. The same quick smile greeted you from among the many attractive features on a face that showed less age than men many years his junior. Only two things caught her attention as being significantly different in the time that it took her to make a complete inspection of his person. She noticed his eyes because they were the first things she ever noticed about Sam -- those sparkling green eyes that jumped out to meet you. Now they resided in dark caves almost out of sight at first glance. In her line of work she met people from time to time whose eyes resembled his. They were most often sad and sometimes desperate people. The next thing that occurred to her was he lacked the proper attire. The other three were back in uniform, and Sam could not possibly be in uniform without his leather coat. “I hope that in your haste to catch up with us you didn’t leave a very important item at home. If you did we are going to have to turn this bus around and take you back to Chicago to get the proper uniform. Well, did you?” Allison waited for his response.
Sam acted as if he had no idea what she expected from him. He squinted and frowned setting Allison’s heart to racing in fear that he had gone off and left his most important article of clothing at home. Preparing to scold him for his shortsightedness, she stopped short as Sam began to grin mischievously.
“You brought it, didn’t you? I knew you would. Where is it? You have to put it on. The rest of us are wearing our colors.” Allison looked around for Sam’s bag.
“Look in the side pocket of my carry on, and I believe you will find what you are looking for,” said Sam.
Allison wasted no time retrieving the bag, almost tearing open a zipper hindering her entrance into the compartment that held the essential piece of attire. She pulled the heavy leather jacket out for everyone to see and noticed how well cared for it appeared. This coat had not suffered the last thirty plus years in a dank chest somewhere in a basement. The jacket’s appearance as well as the absence of odor told her a professional storage facility, perhaps the same place where his wife kept her expensive gowns and stoles, provided long term lodging for this fortunate garment.
“Pull over so you can put it on,” said Allison.
“What? You want me to pull over right this minute?”
“Right this minute!”
Sam did as told, and after putting on the coat, the bus again proceeded west on the interstate with him now in the proper uniform. Once more Allison looked as if she might shed another tear, but upon observing Sam watching for her reaction, she dug in her heels and kept her eyes dry. She contented herself to sit there smiling politely on the outside while a veritable party went on under her skin. This had been a very good day.
The rolling hills and fields of western Oklahoma surrounded the small group of modern day crusaders. Their expectations of success increased exponentially upon Sam’s arrival. He represented pure intellectual energy, sometimes annoying, admittedly, but ultimately vital for their mission’s success. His ability to dissect ideas and break them down into their smallest elements would prove invaluable. His typical reply to those offering opposing viewpoints was, “Ah bullshit!” A contributing member of a forensics team deb
ating hypothetical situations, Sam would never be. However, if you happened to find yourself in the middle of the proverbial shit storm and all you really wanted was a way to cut through the crap and find some clean air, you went to Sam.
“I’m still waiting for an answer to my original question,” said Allison after the excitement about Sam’s coat had tapered off. “How did you pull this off?”
Sam searched for air vents he could direct upon his now amply clad person. He acted surprised when he remembered that the VW bus lacked air-conditioning and the outside venting systems produced completely ineffectual results. Beads of perspiration formed on his brow. He looked towards Allison pleadingly.
“Okay, okay, you can take it off until we get to a cooler location. Just lean forward and give me your arm.” Sam followed her instructions to the letter and after taking the coat off reported he felt much better.
“Actually, it came together quite easily,” he started, “once I decided early this morning that, for some still unexplainable reason, I had to get up off my skinny behind and catch up with you lunatics. Quick calls to your husband and to Rosa Lee told me exactly where you were heading and by what route. All I did after that was make a call to a good friend of mine who happens to be the lieutenant governor of this fine state of Oklahoma and explain to him my little problem. From that point on, this vehicle from a 1960’s time warp has been under surveillance by the state patrol. While they were keeping me informed of your progress I chartered a plane and headed in this direction. I finally realized where I should plan to head you off when it was reported that Ernest was doing the driving. Ernest hates to drive! Then it came to me, the onion-fried burger city. That’s where Ernest was taking you. I remembered how we had difficulty getting him out of that place in ‘69. He loved those things. When the trooper picked me up at the airport in Oklahoma City, I expected I would find you either at or heading to our favorite restaurant in the community that serves Oklahoma’s version of health food. Turns out I arrived in burger town well ahead of you guys. While we sat outside the restaurant, which by the way is now in a new metal building lacking any of the original atmosphere out closer to the interstate, I recalled how persuasive my good friend Allison could be if she set her mind to something. So I simply hedged my play by ordering a couple of those delicacies that Ernest held in his possession up until a few moments ago for insurance. Then we went back to the highway and waited for you to come along. It was a good move on my part because, sure enough, poor Ernest, having been brain screwed by you, I’m sure, drove right on by the exit. That’s when the trooper and I found it necessary to employ plan B. That’s all there was to it.”
As Sam told his little tale, Allison’s mouth opened wider and wider. Sam had made the entire adventure seem like the most trivial thing. Maybe it was to him, but normal people possessed none of the foresight or the where-with-all to accomplish things like this. That’s why Sam’s presence meant so much to Allison on this trip. He got things done. Maybe Allison didn’t agree with the results of Sam’s professional efforts, but for this particular effort, his keen intellect would prove invaluable.
“Good,” said Allison casually, “glad you were able to find us so easily.” Both of them laughed at her remark. Allison, though, was not yet finished with Mr. Sam it’s no problem McCarthy. “Now for the million dollar question, why did you come? You said you didn’t remember anything about the Dandelions. What happened?”
Sam took his time before responding. He didn’t appear to Allison to be as sure of himself as before. She remembered the dark caves that served as his eye sockets.
“I really don’t know for sure,” said Sam with resignation in his voice. “I woke up in a heavy sweat about 3 a.m. this morning and haven’t been the same since. I felt as if I experienced a panic attack. I wrestled with any number of causes and solutions until it came down to just one -- finding this vehicle and going with you to San Francisco. It never made sense this morning and it makes no sense now, but for some weird reason, I feel strongly that this is where I need… and want to be. Go figure.”
Allison reflected on Sam’s response as she took a moment to look into the back to see how Bobby and Ernest were doing. Both looked sound asleep, especially Ernest, if the grin on his face could be trusted. She considered that this might be a good opportunity to get some insight into their newest passenger’s real reason for being on the bus. So far, if her hunches proved correct, she wasn’t the only one of the group who had an additional motive to make the long journey back into the crucible that forged the attitudes of so many young people of their generation.
“Tell me about your family, Sam. What’s your wife’s name again? Isn’t it Courtney? How is Courtney doing? And your son Blake, how about him?”
Sam looked at her as if to be asking, Why the hard questions all of a sudden? “She left me ten years ago,” he said simply. “Said I wasn’t the person she fell in love with. She called me a self-centered fraud and a deserter. Told me I had abandoned every principal I ever possessed. She moved to Oregon and joined some environmental movement and lives on a small farm a few miles from the coast. She remarried a few years back. My son told me the guy’s a carpenter building environmentally friendly homes.”
Allison knew from many years experience that this story was not finished. If she stayed quiet long enough, she felt certain he would start talking again. The only sound she heard came from the VW’s engine located in the rear of the bus. The late afternoon sun lay off to the left front side as it made a run for the far horizon. Another hour of sunlight was available at most. Miles of open highway and empty hours ahead would allow Sam sufficient time to tell his story at his own pace.
Allison had no idea how much time had passed before Sam started back into his story.
“I don’t know, I guess I saw it coming. She said early on how much she admired my radicalism during the sixties, but I never imagined it was that important to her. She was too young for most of that stuff. She was still in high school when the war demonstrations began. I was twenty-nine, and she was twenty-three when we got married. I had grown weary of the constant hassle of trying to get people involved with important causes that affected their own lives. People only wanted to forget about the sixties and get on with their pathetic lives, which they’ve devoted mostly to conspicuous consumption. I tired of always being the one going against the flow. One day, I simply said, ‘Screw this, I’m getting mine, too.’ I took my law degree and headed for corporate America. After a few years I knew where the money was, and I knew how to go get it. The rest was nothing more than a constant repetition on the same theme. I thought she liked the big houses, the cars, the vacations, and the ability to spend money without worrying about how much money you had in the bank. I know I worked a lot, had to be away a lot, but she had her friends at the country club, her son, and lots of stuff to do.”
Allison could see that Sam was still puzzled as to why his wife left him ten years ago. He had finally stopped swimming up stream and joined everyone else in the mad dash for the cash. He played the game like he thought he was supposed to, so why did he get punished for it? The way he probably saw it, it was damned if you do and damned if you don’t.
“And your son Blake, how old is he now?” inquired Allison.
“He’s twenty-six. He stayed with me until he finished high school, then he also moved to Oregon. Got his degree in some environmental science field and is working for one of the many save the earth firms that headquarter in that region. He probably earns about as much as a low-level discount store manager, but I guess the kid’s got to learn on his own. When he gets tired of beating his head against the indestructible walls of multi-national corporate America, defended by those greedy die hard adherents of corporate dominated free market capitalism, I figure he’ll come around, and then I’ll put him on the right track.”
Allison attempted to reconcile her earlier memory of Sam and his rabid opposition to intrusive government, large corporations, militarism, an
d the destruction of our natural environment with the wealthy individual sitting beside her who expressed little regard for those former sacred causes. She felt a deep sense of sorrow. It occurred to her that if individuals of his intelligence and dedication had abandoned the causes of their generation, then what future did this country have? Who would the young people follow into the streets? Who would be there to pass on the hard learned lessons?
Sam, what the hell are you doing here? she thought to herself. Not only had he forgotten about the Dandelions, he had forgotten about the entire planet. For Ernest, Bobby, and herself, she expected that the demons that vexed their souls were at least suspected, if not identifiable, and hopefully could be dealt with. But for Sam, greater difficulty awaited. He must first rediscover that he possessed a soul, the one endeavor where he could not simply rely on his intellect.
The thought came to her as she again reached across to grasp Sam’s arm, This trip is long over due. “You did the right thing in coming with us, Sam,” she said. “You brought the body. When we get back to the streets, we’ll find the spirit.”