Tumultus

by D. W. Ulsterman

  “Means what it says. Interesting. Different. Like a living, breathing, museum of sorts. I’m a man who can appreciate that kind of thing. Some folks have described me with similar words. From a different time. Born too late…”

  The godfather took another sip of his coffee as his eyes looked over at Mac.

  “And you – you’re the one who fought that special operations officer up there in Dominatus? Kicked the shit out of him? I was also told you shot dead five bandits last night all by yourself. Is that right? You’re even older than me!”

  Mac took a slow, measured breath.

  “Sounds about right.”

  “And do you like it here, Mr. Walker?”

  Mac leaned back in the booth and looked through the window to the retro-world outside.

  “Yeah, I do. A lot. Feels like, feels like home. How home used to feel. Like America before it all went to shit.”

  The godfather smiled for the first time since the meeting had begun, though that smile quickly disappeared.

  “Thank you, Mr. Walker. I appreciate the compliment. Nice to know somebody who appreciates giving a kind word from time to time. And thank you for taking out those Muslim animals last night. I hate those assholes. Absolutely hate them with every part of me. Call me racist but I do. Got no use for them, none at all. Hate the radical jihadist shits who have torn apart the world, and I hate all of the self proclaimed moderates who sat silently and let them do it. Wilfrid is open to just about anyone who wants to visit, do business, or even call this place their home – but not them. Not ever. Not as long as I live and breathe, there will be no Muslims in Wilfrid.”

  “Oh my god! You were in the Cowboys! You played in the NFL! That’s where I’ve seen you!”

  Brenda had returned with the food, and was staring down at Bear, clearly awe struck to be serving a former member of the Dallas Cowboys. Bear looked up uncomfortably as he reached for one of the plates.

  “Yeah, I did. A long time ago.”

  Brenda continued to place the plates of hamburgers and fries in front of the others but never stopped looking at Bear as she did so.

  “My whole family just loved watching the Cowboys every Sunday. My goodness, I can’t believe I have you sitting here right in front me! What a strange thing life can be! Now I hope you all are going to the godfather’s tonight. Imran, you gonna show these nice people a good time? How we let out hair down and have some fun?”

  The godfather looked up at Brenda and smiled.

  “Thank you Brenda. You can go now.”

  Brenda looked like she wanted to continue staring at Bear, but glanced down at the godfather and walked away, though she did manage to look back a few times as she did so.

  The godfather stood up while motioning for everyone else to remain seated.

  “Please, stay. Finish your lunch, my treat. We’ll talk again tonight. In the meantime, relax, and enjoy the hospitality of Wilfrid. Imran, Brenda is right. I want you to bring everyone by my place tonight at around, say, eight o’clock. Ok?”

  Imran nodded.

  “Good – see you all then.”

  The godfather walked toward the diner’s exit, stopping to shake hands with people as he did so. Right before he left to go outside, he hugged a tall, red haired woman and pointed back toward the group. As soon as the godfather left the diner, the woman immediately made her way toward Imran and the others.

  “Hello, Imran. I was told to make sure everyone had the very best meal possible today. Everyone – my name is Mel. This is my diner. Welcome to Wilfrid. Could I interest any of you in one of my home made pies? Apple, Cherry, Rhubarb? I could put a little scoop of vanilla on the side if you like.

  Bear raised his hand.

  “Yeah – sounds good.”

  Mel looked at Bear and smiled.

  “Well, which one do you want?”

  Bear nodded back.

  “All of them.”

  Brenda yelled out from across the diner.

  “He used to play for the Cowboys, Mel! Serve him up the good stuff! We don’t get to see a big old hunk of man like this every day! He can tackle me anytime!”

  Everyone but Bear laughed at Brenda’s enthusiasm.

  Cooper Wyse looked at Bear and then nodded in Brenda’s direction.

  “Looks like you got yourself a stalker there, Bear. She’s downright smitten.”

  Bear didn’t bother to look up, but chose to concentrate fully on the food in front of him, though his left hand did manage to extend a large middle finger at Cooper.

  Dublin tapped the top of Imran’s right hand to get his attention.

  “So Imran, what is this place we’re supposed to be meeting the godfather tonight?”

  Imran, who had almost finished his meal, took a drink of water and then wiped his face with napkin before answering.

  “It’s a bar called “Godfather’s”. We do Karaoke there! The godfather loves to listen to people sing, loves to see people relaxing and having fun. For him to invite you there tonight is a good sign he likes you and is considering helping you to get to Manitoba.”

  Bear looked up from the last of his food just long enough to growl his disagreement of Imran’s description of the godfather.

  “He just sounded more like an asshole to me. Sitting there interrogating us. What the hell was that all about?”

  A look of panic washed over Imran’s face as he glanced around to see who might have heard Bear’s remarks.

  “Hush! Don’t speak about the godfather like that! Show some respect! Yes, he was asking questions but that is because he feels it is his duty to make certain you are who you say you are. That is all. You had your Old Man in Dominatus, right? Well, here in Wilfrid, we have our godfather.”

  Dublin nudged an elbow into Mac’s side.

  “Say, Mac, when’s the last time you played a guitar for anyone?”

  Mac glanced over at Dublin and shook his head slowly at her.

  “No. Don’t even think about it.”

  Dublin persisted.

  “C’mon Mac, you used to play for us all the time in Dominatus. We’re going to be sitting there in a bar tonight. Maybe Imran can round up a guitar for you?”

  Imran nodded his head enthusiastically.

  “Yes! We have guitars at the godfather’s! You can play, Mac?”

  Mac shook his head but Dublin ignored him.

  “Yes, he can play wonderfully. And he can sing too. Mr. Mac Walker is a man of many talents.”

  Mac continued to shake his head, but he was smiling as he did so.

  “Ok, maybe. I’m not saying yes – I’m saying maybe.”

  Imran’s hand slapped down on top of the table.

  “Then it is settled! Mac Walker is to sing tonight for the people of Wilfrid!”

  Brenda’s voice shouted out from across the diner again.

  “And I got first dibs on dancing with the big guy!”

  Bear put his hands over his face.

  “Oh Lord…”

  XXVI.

  Shortly before eight o’clock that evening, Imran, arrived at the Wilfrid Guest House to pick up the group and take them to Godfather’s, the nightclub owned by its namesake. Cooper Wyse was again forced to leave Brando behind at the house, something he clearly didn’t want to do, but a requirement Brando seemed more than happy to comply with as he stretched out once again in front of the fireplace.

  Dublin mentioned that they weren’t exactly dressed for a night on the town, to which Imran waved away the suggestion with his near perpetual smile.

  “It’s very casual there. No worries. We will first go up to the second floor above the club. That is the godfather’s personal residence. He wishes to speak to you in more detail about your journey, and what he might be willing to do to help.”

  Cooper, still agitated at leaving his beloved Doberman behind, pointed a finger into Imran’s chest.

  “Cut the shit, Imran. You know who we need to help us. You also likely already know if the godfather will allo
w it or no. So what’s it going to be?”

  Imran took a step back from Cooper and shook his head.

  “I don’t know that, Cooper. I would tell you if I did.”

  Cooper persisted.

  “Have you brought it up to him? Our idea on how we can get across all that land between here and there as quickly and safely as possible?”

  Imran raised both of his hands in front of him.

  “Yes, I have. The godfather’s response was tough to read – very tough. It usually is. But he didn’t say no, so that’s good news.”

  It was Mac’s turn to interject, as he tapped Cooper’s shoulder.

  “What plan do you seem to have already hatched, Cooper – and why weren’t we in the loop on it?”

  Cooper glanced at Mac and then stared back at Imran.

  “No real plan yet, Mac. Just…hoping something works out. I was counting on Imran to get it done for us, but it looks like that hasn’t happened just yet. Guess we’ll have to cross that bridge at this little meeting we‘re on our way to.”

  Reese wanted to know what Cooper was talking about as well.

  “What plan, Cooper? Let us know so we aren’t caught flat footed.”

  Cooper Wyse placed both of his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and rocked back on his boots slightly before answering Reese and Mac’s questions.

  “There’s a Russian guy who runs this train. Old beat up mess of metal. Coal powered. A relic from a hundred and fifty years back that he fixed up. He stays about ten miles south of here. There’s a set of tracks that was put in place during a silver rush they had up this way a long time ago. Well, this Russian got that train running, spent months repairing all those miles of tracks, and he’s been the biggest goods transporter from here to Vancouver and miles and miles to the East as well. That sound about right Imran?”

  Imran nodded.

  “Yes! He is under the protection of the godfather, and the Vancouver Muslim warlord, Borzoo. Transports goods for everyone willing to pay – and everyone does.”

  Bear scowled at the mention of Borzoo.

  “Wait, this Russian, he takes money from both the godfather and some Muslim warlord too? And the godfather is ok with that? I thought he said he hated all Muslims? Why is he helping finance an operation that is helping his enemies?”

  Cooper turned to Bear.

  “Around here, the Black Market rules everything. And to have that market, you need a way to get goods from one place to the other. The Russian provides that service to whoever pays him. He doesn’t discriminate between good or bad, it’s all the same to him as long as they pay. People like the godfather, or this Borzoo fella…they need the Russian. They need those goods.”

  Dublin looked at Imran and then Cooper.

  “And so you two thought that this Russian would use his train to transport us to Manitoba? Is that it?”

  Cooper nodded.

  “Yeah. Otherwise, it’s gonna be one long, tough slog and I think if we did manage to get there, it might be too late. The Texas Resistance can’t hold out much longer down there. Whatever that weapon is in Manitoba, I figure we need to get to it fast.”

  Mac was looking at Cooper with an intensity not seen since they arrived at Fort Wilfrid.

  “Can he be trusted? This Russian?”

  Cooper nodded toward Imran, who in turn, answered Mac.

  “Yes. If he agrees to something, he always delivers. Always.”

  “How much?”

  Reese’s question was left without a response from either Imran or Cooper, so he repeated it.

  “How much to transport all of us on this train of his? What’s the cost? You say he’ll deliver as long as he’s paid. So how much?”

  Imran shook his head slightly, looking down at his feet.

  “That…that I don’t know. Tonight we will discuss the plan, the cost, those things we will talk about with the godfather.”

  Now it was Dublin’s turn to interject.

  “So it seems like we are going to have to pay the godfather just to have the chance to talk with this Russian, and then we might have to pay the Russian too. Is that right?”

  Imran looked from Cooper Wyse back to Dublin.

  “Perhaps. We will have to see how the negotiations go.”

  Mac was not pleased with Imran’s use of the word negotiations in relation to their mission to defeat the New United Nations.

  “We ain’t negotiable, Imran. This isn’t some business transaction – we’re talking about a war going on and tens of thousands of people who are fighting for their lives trying to push back against the New United Nations.”

  Cooper came to Imran’s aid.

  “Imran knows that, Mac. We have to deal with the people and the situation that’s available to us. That means negotiating with the godfather and this Russian. We’re not getting around that, ok? It is what it is. So let’s just make our way to the godfather, and see what can be done about getting us to Manitoba.”

  Mac turned to Reese and Dublin, who both nodded. Bear appeared on the verge of throttling Imran with his hands, though said nothing. Finally Mac agreed.

  “Ok – let’s go.”

  In the driveway of the Wilfrid Guest House was parked a sea green 1959 Cadillac Eldorado. Mac’s demeanor changed almost instantly as he walked up to the vehicle and then looked back at Imran.

  “This yours?”

  Imran’s smile returned as he pointed to what was clearly a prized possession.

  “Yes! 1959 Cadillac! All mine!”

  Cooper Wyse issued a slow, low whistle as he ran his hand along the tall back fin that rose from the car’s rear panel.

  “Didn’t know you had this, Imran. She’s beautiful.”

  Bear appeared less than impressed.

  “We supposed to all fit in that thing? There’s six of us.”

  Imran opened the driver’s door and pushed the seat forward to allow access to the back seat.

  “Yes – plenty of room. Three in back. Three in front.”

  Dublin, Reese, and Cooper settled into the backseat, and as promised, found it more than comfortable. Bear and Mac joined Imran in the front seat, and even Bear’s massive shoulders were not too terribly cramped having to share the space with the two other men.

  As Imran started up the engine, Mac couldn’t help but smile at the sound of the now long ago Detroit made V-8 engine. Before backing out of the driveway, Imran turned on the car’s radio and smiled again as the sounds of Dean Martin singing Volare issued from the small in-dash speakers.

  “We have our own radio station in Wilfrid! Plays lots of Dean Martin. The godfather loves Dean Martin.”

  Traveling down the well paved roads of Wilfrid, Imran pointed out other notable parts of his newly adopted hometown. There was a pizza parlor that delivered, a two story red brick building that was designated City Hall where in the back were parked various 1950’s era maintenance vehicles, and in the center of the town was a two acre park with benches, cobblestone walking paths, and a small water fountain.

  As Imran drove further from the center of town, the residential homes were replaced by more industrial looking buildings. A place that created clothing, another that repaired vehicles, and yet another that Imran indicated held the community’s stored food reserves.

  It was adjacent to that building that Imran parked in front of another, smaller two story structure with a large neon sign on the outside that read “Godfather’s”. A large parking lot was parallel to the building’s entrance, where some ten classic American cars were parked.

  Imran pulled his car alongside the same red 1959 Thunderbird he had indicated earlier was the godfather’s personal vehicle. Before getting out, he looked over to Mac.

  “No weapons are allowed inside. You can leave them in the locked trunk of the car. They’ll be secure there.”

  Bear was about to protest from the backseat but Mac held up his hand and nodded.

  “Fine. We’re putting our trust in you, Imran. I hope yo
u don’t disappoint.”

  The entrance to the nightclub was a simple red door that opened to a small, well lit reception room where a tall, thin, forty-something man in a dark grey pinstriped suit stood just to the side of yet another red door. On that door was a small white sign that read, “You’re a guest – act accordingly”.