Hidden Among Leaves

By Donald Muir

The Clipzone is a place deep inside San Franciscos Golden Gate Park, an area which harbors a society of teenagers who have divided themselves into secluded, private camps. Each is a surrogate family that supports its own unique rules far away from the prying eyes of everyday society. In many places on the streets bordering San Franciscos largest park they hang in small groups searching for ways to make a living, creating stories the average person would never dream of; painting a short teen as a green dwarf, gluing antlers to his head and frightening tourists out of their wallets. Running a radio controlled animal down the Panhandle and many others not found in normal walks of life. This is a look inside San Francisco very few people get the opportunity to see.

Carlton Basil has lead his camp to a startling new discovery, a windfall of money and has caught the unwanted attention of nearby law enforcement, then a special government task gets involved and divides Fringe Camp into individual chase scenes. Carlton discovers his true intellectual capabilities when his family is threatened and uses a combination of street smarts and education to rescue them all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Feb 16, 2012
• ISBN: 9781469764191

Donald Muir

Donald Muir was raised in the forested peninsula of lower Michigan, studied in California and settled there with his wife and 2 children.

Book preview

Contents

Dedicated to Lori

PREFACE

Book 1

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

BOOK II

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 39

CHAPTER 40

Epilog

The End

Dedicated to Lori

You’ve endured so much,

to see my tears just look in your eyes.

This was originally started as a non-fiction. Each teenage camp in San Francisco are very real but they all share fears that someone will find them. Each character written in this story were nothing more than figments of my imagination. No one interviewed is mentioned but the stories are true as I heard them. During this research, G-Kids in the park actually started a new street narcotic mixing Ecstasy and LSD together. This became a minor street craze and started the ongoing basis for this story. I don’t think anyone is actually giving chase but after all the drug use, no one can tell them differently.

Note; since this writing, most of the trees were cut down to curtail teenage camps, they just moved to better spots, many are still there.

PREFACE

"I

am about to

become a wandering shred of human debris." Jeff Tillman muttered as he searched the sky expectantly for an F-15 to arrive. A single decision of his two days ago ended up creating a potential holocaust of his career, a hinge that everything was about to revolve on. How could one stupid sentence in one stupid report cause the whole world to turn end over end? One sentence!

Major! We have visual contact. He’ll be landing in less than a minute.

Great! Push me over and all you’ll have is a chalk line. This is worse than waiting for a bombing run and I’m definitely on the receiving end. This could go either way and not gently, the results will be extreme no matter what. I’m on a coaster and this is only the first hill.

Permission has just been granted for immediate landing, Major. They’re not even going to circle.

Better and better. Pretend calm. Have the staff car brought up, Sergeant, we’ll meet them on the runway.

Yes, Sir! He said and snapped, unable to keep the excitement from his voice.

Major Tillman watched the assistant with envy. They were all thrilled with the new pace and their lives were filled with temporary excitement after years of routine. Not mine, he mused. I created this whirlpool and now I may sink in it. His heart rose as their vehicles came to him at once and the gravity of importance took a backseat as he was chauffeured to a destination point. The convoy of cars drove in unison, an MP jeep in the lead. Approaching the first bank of hangers, Major Tillman took a call and slowly nodded his head, the inevitable swirling already in his stomach. Tapping the driver, he reluctantly indicated a third hanger to the left. Without question the sergeant detoured, spun a U-turn on the grass and the convoy followed like children behind. Comically, the MP realized it was leading no one, turned hastily around and only caught up as everyone unloaded by the empty room. Within minutes, an F-15 abruptly landed, taxied and darted for the open door desperate not to be seen. Major Tillman had no choice but to wait now, even his face saving entrance taken away. Whatever this was, it was big and all he could do was weather the approaching storm.

Thirty years, Major! Colonel Gilvens yelled from the jet’s wing even before it stopped. Thirty years! You just woke the entire East Coast staff, they’re buzzing like hornets and I hope for your sake this isn’t some overblow mistake, do you have any idea what this caused at Langley? They yanked me out of a high level meeting in Europe, I’ve been on a fighter for more than twelve hours getting here and… He motioned to a flight orderly, gave him instructions as a formality, and shook Major Tillman’s hand. I was asked for a report and the plane hadn’t even touched ground yet. If you were looking to get attention, this was one way to do it! Worn out from worry, this had been the most important ongoing mission of his life and to have it surface after so much time was more than he could believe or hope for. Gilvens forced himself to swallow the building questions until they could be alone. Taking him by the arm he pulled Tillman to one side and became a little more familiar, old friends once during the Vietnam War.

Lowering his voice, Colonel Gilvens tried to smooth over his impatient manners and build confidence in the one person responsible for discovery. I’m sorry to be so abrupt, Jeff, but to be frank, I never expected to hear about this again, your phone call came as a shock. The minute I heard, I hopped a plane and arrived here fast as I could. In-flight refueling! I never thought I’d have to stay in a bucket for that long.

Several people walked by, curious to see who had special clearance to abort flights. The Colonel showed a moment’s irritation and quickly found a spot that offered more privacy, he desperately needed to talk to the Major before going into a long string of meetings. There was an emergency budget to plan, organize a search, prepare grid maps… who knew what else? Groaning inwardly, he couldn’t help thinking of endless paperwork that comes from an Urgent Drop. Ever since getting the one phone call that tore him into investigation, he’d been anxious to get the information first hand and wouldn’t wait for declassification. It took an emergency requisition of a military F-15, separate department funds and pull strings at the Pentagon just so he could get here before any crucial information leaked out. This was sealed; A top-secret contract he’d been involved in since 1971, they’d been searching that long.

Quickly, before anyone overhears, tell me what happened. I don’t want to go in without your first hand observations. I need to know exactly what it was you found and not all the hog glitter I’m about to wade through. Give it to me straight.

Major Tillman had been up all night since he’d gotten a red flag from the labs. He was in charge of monitoring civilian narcotics and didn’t know what this was all about until he’d privately requested a breakdown of a new sample they’d gotten. He knew it was big because they immediately took him off the switchboard and ordered him to send preliminary results over a secured fax line. He hadn’t been this long in the system and intentionally held back the final computer printout, no one had seen it but him. Within hours of his undercover purchasing the new drug, his lab was completely overrun with CIA personnel and every record confiscated. To his dismay, the technicians were interviewed, quarantined and transferred to Virginia for interrogation. Four hours later, the department had been completely shut down and waiting for one man he never dreamed would appear in his life again. Colonel Sam Gilvens. This was bigger than anything he’d ever been on and Major Tillman wanted to make sure he had all information prioritized correctly. A right choice of words and actions meant his career and possibly a promotion too. Having the famous hero flown personally was almost a guarantee in itself and whatever this drug must be, it was obviously important enough to jump through hoops. A windfall, a pure windfall and he wasn’t about to destroy the chance of a lifetime by offering everything to some simple-minded bureaucrat who sat behind a desk. Gaining Colonel Sam’s confidence was the most important step of his life, it had to be approached right and he wasn’t sure where the old man stood. This could either ruin him, or make it.

Well, Sir, I have to confide something that’s, well, rather delicate. You see, there’s some sensitive details I never placed in a report I thought only you should see. I’m sure you’ve read the cover material, but honestly, there are a few things far too sensitive to relay to headquarters, that is, if you understand my meaning. He waited for a moment to let the intent sink in. Colonel, I thought perhaps you should be given them, no one else.

An involuntary sigh of relief almost leaped out of Colonel Gilvens and Tillman had the good grace not to notice. Gilvens made a silent, ‘Thank God’ and watched him appreciatively for a moment, the Major never once looking away. He was a good man who would hold his tongue, that was obvious, one he should keep with him. Slowly nodding his head, he answered tactfully, the situation dangerous and he accepted the breach of security without question. He wanted Major Tillman not only to have his approval but his acceptance, too. I see, I see. It’s just how we used to work together, isn’t it, Major? I feel a close bond will only come from reliable, accomplished leadership, not only can I understand your candor but welcome it. Never undermine the authority of a good field decision, especially when pencil pushers are involved, right?

The Major moved inside at the polite approval and knew he’d handled this correctly. For many in the CIA there is no room for individuality but both their backgrounds were almost the same, he could take some initiative with this man. Overstepping bounds was a touchy subject when it came to brass and he’d taken a big chance. Tillman past his retirement recently and it wouldn’t take much to have him removed to desk jobs, a solution he could never live with. The lab reports were routine, Sir, you saw that. It was enough to signify a high level audit for a red flag but that didn’t give even a portion of it, not by a long shot.

So, you have the rest then?

Yes, Sir. You’re aware of my department’s function aren’t you?

Colonel Gilvens said nothing. He’d been the one to propose this division in ’85, monitoring all drug traffic sold illegally. Monitor it, find out what the public was taking, research it and then track lab results. He didn’t want to interrupt the flow so he let him continue.

. . . CIA has ongoing research for the San Francisco Bay area and our undercovers routinely buy narcotics for test purposes, even fake dope. My department is responsible for logging every illicit drug that hits the street and our results showed only slight variations of a normal market, until yesterday, that is. Red flags hit in a big way. None of us had ever seen this narcotic before, it was highly unusual. I was a little worried that maybe I had jumped the gun informing headquarters so quickly. It was the lack of specifics that bothered me but after the results and the reaction it caused, I held them for your inspection.

I only hope your candor with me is worth a risk at your career.

He never hesitated, Yes, Sir, I believe it is. I thought I would tell you personally so instead of waiting, I decided to bring them. He said it matter-of-factly but enjoyed the look of surprise on Gilven’s face after pulling them out. No, I didn’t think it was a good idea to fax information of this kind under any circumstances. That hit pay dirt. Sam Gilven’s face went stone cold, frozen completely and void of all color. Slowly looking up, their eyes met and stood speechless for a moment, unable to respond.

Are you all right, Sir?

God in heaven, you’ve shown this to no one? No one?

Major Tillman shook his head.

How on Earth did it come back? He whispered to himself, stunned past all reasoning and wanting to believe what he was seeing but still scared to.

I’m afraid I don’t understand what this signifies, Colonel. The Major said, trying to bring the conversation around but stood there for such a long time it became embarrassing. The old man must be losing it, instead of being able to take charge of situations like he once did, the shock of something unexpected traumatized him into immobility. It was sad to see a superior get old. Just as the thought came to him, he saw the piercing eyes look right into his soul, he knew the thought had been uncovered.

The best plans are often made in the field, Major, try not to be so impatient. I certainly hope you’re ready for a challenge and not be quick to judgment. I’ll need a second in command, if he’s not too brash, that is.

Sir?

It’ll mean you’ll have to officially retire. I know that’s a big step but not unexpected for you after this amount of time. Oh, you’ll still be sanctioned under the department but with secret clearance and of course your pay will triple under MSI contract. Well… what do you say? Are you willing to join us? It’s quite a leap.

If this means what I think, I’d be a fool not to. He said, not quite as sure of himself as he presented. The thought of retiring, giving up promotion and depending on a private contract was a huge step. He felt like he was jumping off a cliff in a borrowed parachute, putting all his faith in a man who was his superior so many years ago. Swallowing the doubt, he strengthened himself inside and asked what the first order would be.

Colonel Gilvens let out a deep held sigh, he knew the depth of the project they both were about to begin. Here’s a list of approved operatives at our disposal, they’ll be fielded to the base I have written here within 24 hours. I want Tango Group there by tomorrow morning.

Sir? Is this who I think it is?

I’m bringing the teams in, Major. Don’t look so surprised, there’s no other way to do this. He hesitated, trying his best to think of all the things they would need done by the morning. Bring the teams in.

Book 1

I have seen a smart

but very wicked plan.

Which has little hesitation,

and feels no fear.

But in this world I have learned,

The will to accomplish, and the energy

. . . though rare,

Is not less than love

Liberally paraphrased from: Matthew Arnold

CHAPTER 1

H

alf a block

from Ashbury, a constant stream of tourists walked by and reflections of them scattered across each storefront window. John Babbs leaned comfortably against a wall, with one leg up and nodded to a couple that passed by. They sped up and tried to ignore him, uncomfortable making eye contact with a street person. He looked away, smiled and finally took in a deep breath of Haight Street, Golden Gate Park meets right here, tourists, street people and teenagers mix in a human soup. For the last two days, his roommates and he had been the most popular netters grinding on the Haight. Locals were searching them out from other districts and tourists never stood a moment’s chance. Paula heard on her last relay with Molly this stuff was getting cut 15 or 20 times, then cut again, mixing with anything on the street. The LSD they were selling was beyond remarkable, it was something else so profound it formed into a cult. Raves wouldn’t do without it now.

So much gossip filtered through the circles that scraps of it collected and even oozed to the Tenderloin. They dealt, but none of them wanted Tenderloin filth around, the park was family, not drugs, so they tried to cool it until Carlton came back. The group wanted to know exactly what he had them selling. So much was going on right now and so many people were hitting on them, they knew a phenomenal event was happening, maybe they should hold back for themselves. Jim Dandy mentioned this morning the price must be too low, they’d fallen into a whole new market and no one else had what they did. One girl offered him her yum yums. That created a whole night of laughter because she picked the one guy who wouldn’t be interested. Their world had gone crazy, it was some big mystery and to make it worse, Carlton hadn’t come back, he’d been gone almost a week. Molly worried most but she tried to keep it to herself even though everyone knew. They kept her busy as relay so she didn’t have time to think, helping them all to sell but now it was almost gone. With the money already put away, they were guaranteed to live work-free for years, maybe more. He took in another deep breath, glad the whirlwind was over.

Hey Babbs!

It was a kid across the street yelling, disturbing his moment of calm. When he made no move to leave, the kid actually started waving both arms. He groaned and still refused to acknowledge him, this was getting ridiculous. Anxious now, the youngster stepped right out into busy traffic and several cars came to a screeching stop. Babbs shook his head. So much for a low profile, he thought, knowing he wasn’t anyhow. This kid needed to get to him so bad he was willing to get hit by a car before someone else made it. Sure enough, two others were on their way on the other side. Babbs lowered his head and laughed, this was exactly how the whole week had been. Strands of hair flew into his face and when finally repositioned his cap, the kid was directly in front. He knew him vaguely but didn’t really care, these people were beginning to blend together. Motioning to one side, he maneuvered around a mass of tourists that stopped and stared, thrilled to observe a live street deal.

Quite an entrance, know that? I guess every undercover knows who I am by now.

The kid smiled good-naturedly. When he opened his mouth, both teeth stood like broken posts, yellow rotten.

Oh, man! Babbs said, surprised. ‘I don’t know if I should laugh… or, or kick pa field goal!" He said.

It was way over the young man’s head. He knew it was a waste of time, any response would be like forcing acupuncture. This kid had a terrible time standing as it was, fidgeting back and forth, nothing would register. He sighed, everyone must know anyway, the word was all over and this was a mad rush to get the last before anyone else did. He heard two camps, Leftover Hobbies and Tears Welling were holding a huge rave tonight. Babbs smiled because he knew it would be a Lady-Tron. The kids would start a false party, watch the ones who dropped, take them to the real rave and leave the others behind. It was hilarious and they called it, ‘Following the Lady’s Scent.’ The only ones left were all the cops hanging out with each other.

You got any left? He asked, pulling Babbs out of his lethargy.

He held up the bag. You’re lucky, that’s the last of it. He had a leftover vial in his rear pocket for the private get together they were going to have tonight, he wasn’t about to give that up. He took the money and curled it around the rest, noticing for the first time a small crowd watching. Babbs wasn’t surprised by the attention, he stood out even on a normal day. To add to his allure, Babbs was remarkably handsome in an Andre Agassi sort of way. He had a perfect washboard stomach, arms cut with muscle and deep brown eyes that fanned out in crow’s feet when he smiled. The flag of his hair simply made him look like a netter but it was the self-assurance that made others notice. Babbs stood out. To make him even more pronounced, he filled the part with baggy pants, loose shirt and flowing hair that forced him to be careful selling on the Haight.

Now he was finished. Getting away from the crowd of gawking sightseers, Babb’s hand played with the vial and as he walked away, the vial played back with him. It was a deep golden color with an odd sparkle after Tilting Bob coated the sheets so often. He’d just finished with the last blotter and by the time the film dried, it was a thick gel. He hid it in his pocket, wanting to keep it for all of them tonight. Babbs had a line waiting when he returned and had forgotten it until now. Having all these people around were so irritating he impulsively tripled the price and they surprised him even more by paying it.

Completely out of film, Babbs slipped unseen down a path they named Hard Man’s Alley, a small trail between businesses used to get away. Finally clear, he took a deep sigh, adjusted the wad of cash and sat for a moment to think. Everyone couldn’t stop talking about this new drug and here he was the one selling it. They’d been so busy none of them had even tried it. Carlton’s warning about the potency sat inside his head like a paperweight but all these repeat customers kept coming back, he knew it had to be something. They were heading to Ocean Beach tonight so a tiny test amount wouldn’t hurt anything.

It was Carlton Basil who brought the blotter to the Haight.

Babbs found himself wishing his friend was back, he missed Carlton’s odd little quirks, especially trying to use street words that never fit. He was so polite that Babbs caught him saying, ‘Yes, Sir’ to them once. Immediately they all started calling him, ‘Sir Basil’, but not to his face. Carlton got his feelings hurt, he just wanted to fit in was all. What put people in check was his fantastic memory, he couldn’t hide it and always rattled off some useless information that made them all laugh, especially when it raised eyebrows. He never meant it, he was a nice guy, a really nice guy, he just couldn’t help being smart was all. Babbs missed his company, they all did. Everyone depended on him now more than ever and to think the other groups in the Clipzone didn’t accept him at first. Molly introduced him to Babbs during House Night and the group had its real beginnings from then on. The rains came last November and he just smiled, handing everyone a set of keys. Carlton got the apartment on Shrader Street and no one knew how, they were close now, close because of him and he didn’t even know it. Carlton had a hard time struggling to fit in and that’s why he probably came to the park in the first place. Everyone who came here was running from something and that’s why the camps were there. Sir Basil though was self-conscious and talking to a pretty girl would all but handicap him. They didn’t care, he was one of them and if he hadn’t gone to all the trouble to find a place they wouldn’t be a family right now. The apartment was a three story Victorian on the corner of Waller, two front windows overlooking Shrader Street and a dream come true. It was perfect. They all loved each other and no one wanted to change the magic of what was happening, especially now.

The moment everything happened was almost a week ago. Babbs and Paula were just becoming an item and it was hard to pull them apart. They were walking under Alvord Lake Bridge from the Panhandle and were almost at Sharon Meadows. It was a hill where kids hung out from the Clip and they were hooting loudly at a transient walking by. The lawns were set up like an amphitheater, anyone strolling through was on display, especially bums. Carlton was coming up from behind when he saw the commotion. It was an old man wandering aimlessly, transfixed at everyone there. He was acting so strange the kids started making fun of him and he just stood staring as if he couldn’t take it in. Carlton felt sorry, the circle never excepted bums but he wanted at least to help him to a shelter.

Basey! Leave him alone! Do you hear me? Paula cried, trying to grab his arm. He’s a bum! What are you thinking? Leave him alone!

She swayed him at first. The man was horribly ragged and molten feathers stuck out from his filthy, dread-locked hair. The clothing was rotting, several layers falling off and he was obviously deranged. When the bum turned, Carlton saw one deformed ear. He felt sorry for him but something triggered his memory so remote he couldn’t place it. This was just a street bum, there was no reason to spend unnecessary time so he followed his friends, anxious as they were to meet up with the rave. Walking past the Conservatory, it finally hit him. Oh! I’ll see you guys’ back at the apartment, I’ve got something to check and it won’t wait! I’ve got to go. He turned on his heals.

Paula was taken back. Wait! Wait, Carl! She pleaded, reaching out to hold him. You don’t have to go! It’s Saturday and everyone’s going, we’ve planned this for a week. What could possibly be so important? Frustrated, Paula tried her best but Babbs was still walking and no one realized either had stopped. They were being left behind.

There’s something I saw once at Vector’s, a photo I think, I just can’t be sure until I see it. He said moving away.

Paula glanced again at the others. A photo? A photo! It can’t be that important, besides, you know we’re all supposed to be going together! They’re expecting us! Paula was visibly agitated, they were looked up to and without Carlton, it lessened the appearance. She had no concept of why he would show more interest in a park bum than having a weekend with them. She helped find the spot they were going to and watching him leave was incomprehensible. You can’t save every stray cat you find! This park is full of them, besides, Vector won’t know anything about a ragged bum. Come on! She stamped her feet. You’re going to miss out! Livid at not getting a response, she bunched up both fists at her side and yelled one last time. No one cares and you’re weird for helping no good bums.

Comments like that one had a habit of corkscrewing into him. They created feelings of not being accepted and she said it on purpose. He was far too intent on his thoughts to pay her much mind or it might have persuaded him, he doubted himself and the doubt gave opinions of others greater weight. If his notion was correct, he had to find out before this old man left the park. He had to get to his friend’s house as soon as possible, Vector was around from the old Hippie days. He was actually a part of the Bohemians, the Beat Generation when Allen Ginsberg, Lawrence Ferlinghetti and Jack Kerourac formed the Beatniks. These individuals opened coffeehouses in the Haight and Vector had been there. He bought a flat off Ashbury the same year the very first head shop opened in ’66. Vector was the one who started the fad of painting sidewalks in chalk, pulling Hippies from the hostels and forming groups to express themselves in public. He stayed through all the changes and even through the evacuation of Haight-Ashbury in the ’70’s. The man was a legend and prided himself that he was the true authority on everything happening in the Haight. Carlton wanted to talk to him, he was headed on a gut feeling and the more he thought about it, the more sure he was.

Running all out, he found a secret trail around Lily Pond, took the path unseen and found himself headed up Hayes Street within minutes. Taking Vector’s steps three at a time, he ran up and inhaled a deep breath before going in. Carlton wasn’t even sure if coming here to ask about a myth from the sixties made any sense. He could be at Ocean Beach right now with everyone else and all the camps were supposed to be there. Briefly shrugging, he walked in and saw Vector on the living room floor, an old octopus bong in front and the air thick with drifting layers.

Hey, Vector, I guess it’s okay to mediate if you want to, I mean, it’s kind of Marin but if you leave the door wide open anyone could rip you off, geez, man, get a clue! He sat next to him, lit the pipe and instantly went into a coughing fit. What’s this? I’d think you were a freak but I know better!"

Vector had just settled in when he heard Carlton bounding up the stairs. He lived two flights up and the old stairway was once a wooden fire escape, it creaked when anyone touched the treadles. No one could rip him off but he wasn’t about to give up a secret like that. The original mahogany pieces never made a sound but twenty years ago he couldn’t tell the difference between an oak or a pine when he fixed it, the stairs would creak by themselves if someone didn’t step just right. He’d destroyed the aura of the wood. No one understood that timber carried a soul and he knew his lack of knowledge would catch up to him eventually. That was all years ago, now they were acting up again for the last two days in a big way. Something was about to happen, and Carlton arriving unannounced may be a disturbance but he didn’t think so, accidents never happen during a fast. His eyes sneaked out briefly and glanced at Carlton, the slits of them secret. It’s pure resin in that pipe, I’m placating the Gods, man. He whispered. They’ve been walking up and down my stairs all night and I want them to come inside. I’ve been getting tuned into the spiritual plain but they’re too shy to talk.

Geez, Vector. Come on, placate them later, I think I’ve got some important news but I need you to show me your old albums first.

I think some kind of change is happening and I can feel it.

I’ll make a wager if any spirits do come out, they won’t look like nymphs, you’ve been on pipe too long.

Vector opened his eyes, slightly put off because he knew these apparitions were ready to reach out. They had to wait now for a more appropriate time. His irritation was momentary though, Carlton was one of the few intelligent conversations he got, the enthusiasm he gave off always seemed to re-energize him and maybe this was all part of the greater plan. The sixties were gone, he knew that, the kids surrounding Ashbury were a bit lost in his opinion. Lost and terribly alone, he seldom went there except for a few favorite hangouts some old friends were at. Carlton was one of the few that had inner direction and liked the young man tremendously. Vector was willing to be patient because Carlton was just temporarily struggling with himself.

Resin is the oil, pulled in a way that blends with nature and is in harmony with all living things, why are you talking in that street lingo anyway? It doesn’t fit you. He mentioned and felt put off. Especially your comment referring to me being ‘on pipe’.

That set Carlton back. Once more when he was dealing with Vector, a thing was brought to his attention he was in the very act of dealing with. I was trying to…

I know, I know… fit in. Vector finished smiling and placed a hand on his shoulder. Don’t talk euphemisms with me, I won’t have it. When will it sink in that you don’t have to force feed the world around you, Carl? You’re all right just the way you are.

Yea, around you maybe. He said doubtfully.

Well, maybe you are regressing. I understand if a mind is not exercised, it loses any gains…

Carlton’s eye’s narrowed resentfully. A euphemism is the substitution of a more appropriate expression, usually when an unpleasant phrase is avoided.

Vector slapped his leg. Now that’s the Carlton I enjoy talking to! He pointed. I’ll have you know that most of us were called freaks back then, I was proud of the term, we all were.

That’s exactly what I came to talk to you about. I think I saw someone you may know. Remember? You showed me your graduation pictures. There was an album you had somewhere that I scanned through, I can’t place it.

Vector raised his eyebrows. You surprise me. I didn’t know you paid much attention to a subject that would bore most.

Carlton Basil placed a shoebox full of pictures on his lap and shuffled through. Not finding what he wanted his eyes fell on a hand tooled leather folder which he quickly grabbed and paged. One by one he scrutinized each group photo, shook his head and continued to another. Vector, don’t you remember? There’s an album around here with lot’s of papers in it, you know, demonstrators and stuff?

The group album. It’s over there.

Carlton picked out a yearbook thick with pages and found what he was looking for. Vector kept all the newspaper clippings in it, pictures, memorabilia, small posters and fliers. Paging forward, he found a photo glued next to a graduation clipping.

"This guy right here! The guy with a pencil in his ear, see?’

Vector took the picture and put on a pair of reading glasses. I’m getting old. He said to the yellowed Kodak. It was the kind that had the dull coloring of early photos with a date stamped below, groups of students lined up by size, bouffant hairdos, black headbands and everyone laughing. Graduation day. Off to one side a young man sat on the ledge uncomfortable in a lab coat, looking strangely out of place. He was the only one with a serious expression and it made him stand out, like he was caught unawares. Vector gave him a curious look and got a magnifying glass, suddenly interested. After a few moments he turned to him. What made you… ? Why this guy of all people? He leaned forward suddenly intense. Why, Carl? Why this man?

Carlton was taken back by Vector’s earnest behavior. I know it sounds weird but the shape of his ear, it looks like a collapsed flower. Is that who I think it is?

Cauliflower ear. A kid hit him on one side. No one really knew this guy except a few of us. He was only in the picture by accident, I’m curious someone as young as you, what, 33 years later… ?

It’s Schloss Doc, isn’t it? His eyes excited with question.

Well, yes, that’s him all right. I’m surprised you even know. Not that many got an opportunity to really know, how did you find out anyway? The Chemist discovered him, he was an intern… no, no, I’m wrong, he was a Doctor by then. Vector suddenly put out a hand toward Carlton. After a moment, he whispered, Hurry, take a hit, a light one, did you hear that?

Carlton shook his head, the place dead quiet. Soon he heard the light creaking of someone walking up each slat, hesitate, then walk again. Vector carefully took a small hit, let the fog of his lips escape in light gusts, then handed the tube to Carl, one finger to his lips for silence. He didn’t have to worry, Carlton had shivers crawling all over and even his hair stood on end. The creaking stopped short at the top and he fully expected to see an apparition come right in the open door. Listening, the sound ceased and then began a downward climb.

Letting out a full sigh Vector’s voice could barely be heard. That’s the closest he’s ever come. Whew! This must be fated, the ‘pirit likes you.

Pirit?

That’s right, a ‘pirit! This teasing is an insult. I don’t give credit for a whole spirit until he shows himself. This isn’t a game and I get the privilege of insulting it until the jerk shows up. You coming here wasn’t an accident, either. No way! Schloss Doc always had a weird aura about him and I imagine otherworldly things loved to circle around it. I should have known something was amiss, he was strange. Berkeley made a big deal and gave him a scholarship when he was only twelve! Twelve mind you! Not only that, he started working for Livermore and got his Doctorate at nineteen. This was the same guy The Chemist pulled out, turned him on and did some secret stuff together in a lab somewhere. A rumor a new type of LSD was made, a Lysergic Diethylamide so mind blowing that it was going to re-start the revolution. The Atomic Bomb of all Lysergic Acids, I’m telling you, it was no joke, either. He found a way to recrystalize the ergotic alkaloids and when they discovered that trick, well, they kept the Doc to themselves. Kept him as secret as an Einstein project. This guy came out in a big way but The Chemist held him apart from the scene and no one knew who he was. He wasn’t about to let on who was really behind the whole thing. How did you find out? No one knew except a few of us and we kept it secret. He thought about something and forgot the question. See, a lot was going on back then. Everything happened at once, with Kesey coming back from Mexico and giving into the system. That was the real first blow, then Fillmore closed and after that, the Experience wasn’t like it was before. A lot of hard drug users started coming into Haight-Ashbury and the spirit of Experience was gone. One person who suffered most was The Chemist, the whole thing was him. Oh, Leary took credit, especially at his trial but the truth behind Haight-Ashbury was The Chemist. He manufactured all LSD that existed, the war was full on and Berkeley was a hot keg ready to blast. People’s Park was where everyone went to hang out, the Haight was dead and the Hippies were part of the demonstrations. ‘The Experience’ suddenly became ‘The Movement’, and it was ‘in’ to be a Rever. The scene changed and everyone felt…

A what?

Revolters, man. Hey, it went from peace and love to doing a mass of demonstrations and those were so intense, it was chaos. I loved the excitement, don’t get me wrong but it turned into something else in the 70’s and The Chemist quit with all the anger. I think it hit him hard when Kerourac died in ’69, he slowed down a bit, the liquid was for the Experience, you know. When Schloss tried LSD for the first time, he just had to improve it, I guess. He was a scientific genius and The Chemist took Doc’s creation and wanted to bring it all back. Boy, oh boy, I have to tell you, he sure had it, too.

Had what?

The Experience in a bottle, that’s what we called it.

You tried it?

Vector nodded. Once. I’ve never had anything like it since, either. They were right, you know, it would have brought everyone back in a nanosecond. It wasn’t LSD, it was something else. He told me once the crystalline was ergonomically soluble.

Carlton shook his head. What does that mean?"

I’m not sure if I’m right, it’s been a long time. I had trouble believing then and it seems so impossible now. He said it actually takes on the chemical of that high, changes it and then takes it into a whole different realm. When this thing got out, everyone wanted to know who he was… everyone.

What do you mean?

All hell broke loose. Some guys came around who only belong behind Watergate doors, sneaking in special covert missions or something. They gave me the creeps and they weren’t playing games either. Each of them were packing heavy stuff and I know for a fact they weren’t cops asking questions about Shuster, they were after him in a big way, almost as if he took it from them or something.

That’s Schloss Doc’s name? What happened to him?

Well, Hoffman ran when he got indicted and I think that gave The Chemist the same idea. Kind of a coincidence but he ended up dead around the same time. To add to that, pigs showed up and were everywhere. Everywhere! My place got searched and nothing out here didn’t have a stigma of undercover agents, narcs man, narcs all around. This area became a real no man’s land, everything went at once, the streets were deserted and anyone who stayed was a ‘no one’. The Underground closed, the head shops were bought out and worst of all, we eventually became a tourist thing. It’s been that way since, anyway, that’s when the labs were raided, Berkeley’s, too. Hoffman changed his name, Kesey was cleared, the FBI had a warrant for Dr. Edward Shuster and…

Edward? His name was Edward?

Vector nodded, smiling. He got teased a lot when he started college. They called him, ‘Ed the Head’, I guess because he was so young. He didn’t like the name and never realized it was all in fun, a sense of humor wasn’t part of the education. Other students were envious of him but he took it a bit personally, ended up becoming reclusive.

That? That made him a recluse?

No. He was always different, I mean, his parents had him in the spotlight since he was a kid. He hated people, really hated people. It was their reaction to him, he had an arrogance I can’t really explain, a way of talking that made everyone just want to reach out and strangle him by the neck. A person demeaned isn’t likely to stay around and try to be friends but truthfully, he couldn’t have cared less. People didn’t matter to him.

You knew him though.

We were friends, well, as good a friend as he’d allow. The Chemist was the only one he connected with. Being around both of them was like listening to another language. They talked in Latin sometimes! I was kinda’ sorry when he wasn’t around, the guy was interesting in his own way. He had to have a friend like him, I suppose. He needed someone with his own intelligence.

Schloss took off?

Vector thought about that for a moment. Took off? Yea, I guess you could say that. The Chemist died a little too suddenly and it was at the same time these government boys were checking around. I know for a fact he couldn’t handle the loss, that was the only friend he ever had. The day after, Doc said he was going fishing on the Delta above Walnut Grove. Fishing, mind you! This guy hasn’t been out of a lab or even out of Berkeley since he was twelve years old! I thought he was weird and to put it simply, fishing wasn’t him. Schloss was pale as a ghost, I don’t think he ever saw the sun."

What’d he do?

He went fishing! He went and our Schloss Doc never came back. They found his car on the levee, the passenger door open and blood all over it, his blood. A lawn chair was left by the river, a fishing pole and a rock with some of his hair on it! It was obvious someone struck him, oh, and listen to this! Drag marks! Drag marks that led to the river and one of his shoes sitting on the bank.

Carlton was deflated. Someone killed him?

Sure points to it, doesn’t it? Vector said, sitting back. The FBI or CIA, whatever these guys want to call themselves were convinced, so was the DEA and Alameda detectives. Yours truly, too. He hooked a thumb to the window. No one found the man’s body, no one. Don’t forget, Edward was a genius and not your typical brainy kind of kid, either. He was a Berkeley Doctorate at nineteen years old! A Doctorate in Chemistry! Do you know what that means?"

Carlton shook his head.

It means he could do miracles with a blood type no investigation is ever going to turn up.

But they don’t usually make a determination until they have a body. Carlton offered.

I thought about that too. It seems a little convenient doesn’t it? They let this go so quickly someone had to be behind it, the Coroner conveniently determined it wasn’t possible to survive after so much loss. A human body will sink and bog in river mud without fluids so they signed a death certificate and that was that. The Feds bought it, the County was taken in and I even fell for it.

Until when?

"Until old Abbie himself stepped forward and came out of hiding and guess who was standing in exactly the same kind of picture you’re looking at here?’

Schloss?

Our famous recluse, caught in a Kodak just like in 1970 here, only it was in ’91.

So he’s alive?

He nodded, When I saw that picture I about fell off my chair. Hoffman was at the Berlin Wall when it went down, Shuster was with him, I’m sure of it. They must have known each other and he’s not exactly a guy you forget. The way I figure it, he was never so happy as when that group made him step out and experience the world for the first time. Remember, he was always in the spotlight from about five years old and got to hate it badly enough to want to die. So he did, he died. That’s the way I think anyway. When the Chemist past on, I think his only friend in this world was gone from his life. It hit him hard…

Vector, I’ve got something to tell you.

You saw another picture, huh?

He shook his head. We were in the Clipzone…

Where all the kids are camped?

Near there. Everyone kind of hangs out at Sharon Meadows and someone will stand out if they don’t belong. Well, I saw him, I saw him!

Vector sat forward so suddenly he dropped his glasses. "You’re sure? Schloss must be over fifty by now, he’d be difficult to recognize.’

I know it was him, Vector! It was the way he was checking everything out, I’ve got shivers all over me. I gotta’ go! I saw him in Golden Gate Park, I saw him! There’s no doubt in my mind, it was him. I’ve got to catch up before he leaves!

Carlton ran for the stairs and Vector sat for several minutes, reflecting. The door closed and within minutes, creaking footsteps began to echo one at a time, following downward until they reached the door. He felt a light rush of air and a profound spiritual absence set in which couldn’t be explained. Vector was satisfied with the entire experience and sat back, carefully putting the ancient pipe away. I knew that Doc had a unique way about him, what an aura! He crossed his legs. A sound as definite as that doesn’t go and follow just anyone around, I can’t imagine what’s inside a man’s head that could cause such turmoil. He yelled out, I sure did appreciate the visit though! His voice hit the empty corridor, bounced once, and then died.

Carlton peeked through the doorway, he felt Shuster, not a spirit. More importantly, he smelled him, too.

Looking around to make sure no one came to the alley, Babbs took out a microscopic dose, one mild enough for just a test. No larger than a pinhead, he held it in position, tilted his head and kept one eyelid open with the other hand. Staring up at the golden drip, it hovered for only a second, loosened itself like from a tap and watched it dropped right on the ball of his eye. He blinked away the sting, stood up and adjusted his hair.

John Babbs never even sat up.

It struck within a millisecond, starting as a mellow, laughing thing but ended up in a stream of colors so intense all he could do was watch. He couldn’t move.

Everything looked at became real inside and increased proportions beyond anything ever experienced. The realization made him laugh and when he did, the sound became form. Once it had a body, the word looked back and tried to return. It hopped around like a black dancing dot, with little fingers that attached itself to his shirt and clung, not wanting to leave. He brushed it off and the laugh let go, an orphan alone. It waved goodbye then drifted away.

Wow. Babbs whispered.

A new word was born, purposely used his tongue as a diving board, licked it’s finger, tested the air, bounced twice then jumped. Flying, the word did a perfect back flip, landed on it’s feet, displayed both arms in a bow and ran away yelling, I did it again! I did it again!

Babbs couldn’t tell what was real and what was a hallucination. His whole being became so wrapped up in swirling images the world floated past. He was an observer, unable to walk. Babbs shook his head to clear it, took his bearings and badly wanted to be home. He had to tell Paula what they were selling and warn them not to try it. When he concentrated on the street, it became alive and his awareness level rose to a new intensity. Everything took on dimensions he’d never experienced in his life but could only hold onto control in spurts. As he stepped out, the result of seeing everything at once overpowered him with surprise. Cut lawns, fountains, geese and especially the tourists swarming past in colored flocks, all a mass of concerted movement. The trees in the park walked beside people, disguising themselves as visitors and Babbs knew the whole scene was a lie. He wanted to warn everyone that they were just holding hands with outstretched vines but a couple mistakenly walked past, smiled and said hello. The word shot out of their mouths like an arrow. He ducked and it flew past, barely missed his shoulder and wounded the wall behind him with leftover lipstick marks. It was an avalanche of events too much to handle but movement paralyzed him. A linen truck approached, turned the corner and looked as if it was barreling down on him alone. Bracing himself, the vehicle laid on the horn, turned right, traveled past his hiding place and Babbs watched horrified as the truck swerved to miss a dog. The German Shepherd never made it. Sucked underneath, the animal was caught solidly in the middle, spun upwards inside the wheel-well and tossed in circles like brown taffy. Babbs was spellbound as the dog twisted brutally, slammed in a thud and was crushed by the enormous weight. Yelping, the dog darted and was almost free until a back tire tore across it’s back causing the animal to spin one final time. The rear wheel drove right over it like a speedbump.

Pinned, the canine screamed and screamed, a hideous cry which tore into Babbs, shuddering against him and held his being captive. The scream was knife blades, the edges sharp and rolling inside him. His back went involuntarily against the wall, eyes open against his will. Barely alive, the dog struggled to stay upright when it saw Babbs. Crawling inches toward where he stood, it dragged the useless rear legs behind and fought for each step, scratching a way forward. The Shepherd sacrificed its last remaining energy to find comfort in a human to trust. Horrified, Babbs was hopelessly locked, unable to move except to stare transfixed as it came crawling toward his feet. Slowly, the animal laid one paw on his shoe, dragged its head up, laid down the other paw, looked right into Babb’s eyes, connecting with him. It blinked twice then expired with both eyes frozen in place.

Babbs was no longer peaking, he wasn’t even sure who he was. The dog had connected and entered right into his mind.

CHAPTER 2

"H

ey! Hey! Look

at me! Are you all right?" A voice came from the outer edge of his mind, each word drawing, forcing him back with uncontrolled power. Babbs was desperate, fighting for control, control from a creature sucked into his head like a straw… now other words were fighting for space. It was alive inside, inhabiting the same area he knew couldn’t be real, yet was. The dog actually had smell, movement and animal’s needs. Nothing had ever done this to him, no drug had this kind of power to control his mind. This was impossible yet happening and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.

Stop! Focus on me for a second, will ya?

The command was instantly overpowering and he looked at his friends, immediately recognizing them. Having Titling Bob and Jim Dandy show up was nothing short of miraculous, both had dropped but they were enjoying a soft, laughing high that brought up feelings with fresh images. Bob called it ‘inner’tainment. They ate by mixing a minute drop with raw cookie dough, split it, then added a sizeable bud of marijuana. The high was softened into something more manageable and long lasting. It didn’t take over the system completely like the concentrated liquid would and forced the impact to slow down. Babbs hadn’t known that. Having his partners materialize out of nowhere had the same effect on him as a man rescued from a raft.

Babbs. If you’re thinkin’ about bringing this one home, why don’t you wait until we find a live one. Both doubled over laughing, the spontaneity of the situation overwhelming them but as soon as they calmed down, the dog stared again from Babb’s shoe with its tongue hanging out. Dandy pointed at the way it looked up at its new owner and snickered, I think, I think it wants… He caught his breath. A dog licky on a foot biscuit. It didn’t make sense and that alone set off a hyena sounding cackle that made them laugh again. Babbs stood helpless. The sounds crawled from their mouths to torture him, each intonation floating down as wispy blades. The edges became narrow layers of gray fog that curled around newly planted trees. Drifting, they wrapped the infant saplings with wool rope and began to heartlessly pull them. Babbs had no idea what was happening, everything he looked at became disturbingly real. The sounds controlled his mind! If they asked him for anything he would have no choice but to comply and the powerlessness frightened him, every movement controlled by outside influence.

Tilting Bob noticed his friend’s eye barely focus. Check this out, Dandy! He said, yanking the young boy over. Look at him! He moved in front. Hey. Babbsey! Noooo, over this way, Buddy. That’s right, that’s right… you didn’t, huh, by any chance… He took a chin in his hand and forced their eyes to connect. . . . take a full drop did you?

That was a dirty, filthy trick. John Babbs wasn’t willing to match up with another set of eyes, no matter whose face they belonged to. It concerned him greatly that they weren’t dead, this could end up far worse and was quickly heading that way. He just dispatched the German Shepherd swirling around his brain and whatever his friends said was currently taking shape in his head, with color! He couldn’t stand much more and to add to it, the dog was just waiting around a corner to jump back in. This was the most intense trip he’d ever been on and Babbs wanted an end to it. He couldn’t acknowledge Bob’s question and keep the dog away at the same time, he was close to overload.

Jim thought the Tilt Man’s attitude might be slightly callous, Babbs was their friend after all. What if he took too much? He said worried. Maybe we should do something!

Bob shook his head. Oh, Dude. He reasoned. You can’t go out on this stuff, it’s got to be the most balanced D in the world. A netter did a full drop thinkin’ it was everyday crap, you know? Man, he was cabbaged for three days and still said it was the best experience he’d ever had. I gotta’ tell you though, he was a goner for awhile and now he don’t want none of that other stuff ever again. Still, I don’t think he’ll be taking any of those full drops either, they mix it now.

Jim raised his eyebrows. You mean, Babbs is going to be out for three full days? He thought the whole thing was being handled a bit casually.

Maybe more. He said amused. Let’s see.

Tilting Bob waved his hand back and forth in front of Babb’s face and he couldn’t help but follow the trails. They floated, five of them, swirling truncates of abbreviated rainbows hurling like slingshots. Bob held still and smiled knowingly as he watched his friend’s frozen stare. Continuing to hold a hand in place, he reached behind and found the vial in Babbs’ back pocket, examining the deep golden color in the light.

Yep. Just as I thought! Look at this, Dand! It’s the thick one all right. We used this for the runoff. Oh, Dude, I’ll bet one drop must be more like a hundred! Look at how thick it is, I’d say probably more.

He removed his hand and watched Babbs stare at a sapling, shook his head and kindly lead him away. Babbsey, we must have drained at least three, maybe four hundred sheets. He smiled at Dandy and handed it to him. That my friend is the runoff, it must have kept goin’ in the same bottle over and over again!

John Babbs was aware his friends were talking about him but there wasn’t a single thing he could do about it. The treachery with the hand trick left him a little worried another one might come along. The intonations of their words circled inside his head with arrows and answered him, this was simply beyond the scope of the realm he occupied. It still didn’t lessen the frustration, he was going to have a thing or two to say as soon as these hallucinations quit. The questions formed, swooped by, sent down a posse of carbon copies and tried to riddle him with fake answers. Maybe his buddies were right, this was going to take awhile. He heard snickering. The sounds placed themselves in a can, became plastic and then entered his ears. He looked over and watched them talking, resentful, yet glad to have them there. He did feel safe, especially when Tilting Bob explained about the doses. At the very least, he knew what he was dealing with and was grateful both friends were next to him, nothing bad would happen and they wouldn’t think of leaving him alone, not like