backseat and he marched in place nervously. He looked like he really wanted to get out of the car.
The three of us walked toward the protestors, trying to make out what they said. A couple of them had signs saying 'Close Down Puppy Mills' and 'Animal Freedom' and things like along those lines.
Finally, we could hear them chanting,
'No more puppy mills! No more puppy mills.' A lady, wearing army fatigues and Birkenstocks, handed Karl and me fliers. Al had lowered his head and neck and pulled me with all of his force toward the main gate. He went out of control, making a really strange sound that seemed to be half anger, half sadness.
'Look, there's one of the survivors!' A guy with a ponytail and glasses yelled at Al. A bunch of these crunchy protestor types gathered around Al and started petting and stroking him and talking to him. Al had his front paws on the fence and was doing his best to see in.
'He probably remembers,' The ponytail guy said.
'No doubt-it isn't something you forget,' the lady who handed us the flier said. I had no idea what they were talking about. Karl had worked his way into the crowd and was now holding a sign. He pumped a fist in the air and yelling something sounding like 'Kill the man.'
Al wouldn't calm down and the group of protestors wasn't helping. I pulled really hard and started heading back to the car. I didn't know what the hell was going on, but I knew Al didn't like it. When we got about fifty feet from the fence Al chilled out a little, but he continued looking over his shoulder and whimpering a bit. Karl came running up behind me with his new friend, the ponytail guy.
'Duff, you gotta hear this. Listen to what this brother has to say.' It was like being in a bad TV movie about the 60's.
'This is a puppy mill, where they are breeding dogs under deplorable conditions. We are set on shutting them down. Your dog might have come from here,' The ponytail guy said.
'What?' I said.
'He's a basset-one of the breeds they breed here. Where did you buy this dog?'
'I didn't. He belonged to a friend who has since died. I have no idea where he came from.'
'The way he acted at the fence looked to me like he was familiar with the place. These places are horrible, horrible places. They over-breed the bitches and the place is unsanitary. If you like dogs, you would join our cause.'
'Yeah, Duff, let's help out,' Karl said
'Is it illegal?'
'Technically no, but there's no question it is immoral,' Pony tail said. 'This particular place wraps itself in the flag and hides behind bullshit patriotism.'
'What?'
'It's some sort of ultra right wing organization and they use this place as their clubhouse,' Pony tail said.
'C'mon Duff, we gotta join in,' Karl said.
'I don't know, Karl, Can't we solve one of the world's problems at a time? We've got someplace to get to. Remember?'
'Yeah, I know, man but we're coming back here to stop this shit,' Karl said. He had Al by the leash now. Al was doing that marching in place thing he did when he was nervous. The crowd suddenly got louder as a big red pickup truck approached. The truck was one of those extra heavy duty ones with the extra back tires. It had a flag design all over its fenders, a sign on the passenger door that said: 'Give The Soldiers A Snack Attack-Give Can Goods!' I realized this was one of the places collecting all the goddamn canned goods that were all over the place.
The crowd chanted louder and the three crew-cut guys in the truck laughed. The protesters reluctantly parted and the guys went through the heavily armored gate. On the other side of the gate, two scrawny shaved-head types, with big black Doc Martens boots on and a load of tattoos, did their best to look quietly menacing at the protestors.
In all the confusion I felt my head do the throb thing. It was worse than it had been in the last few days. I got a little sick to my stomach, but I took a breath and stabilized it.
'Duff, you all right?'
'Yeah, I just got this weird feeling like something about this was familiar and then I got the head thing.'
'Was it from getting Al?'
'No. I've never been here before,' I said. Karl turned his attention to Al who did the whimpering thing and marched in place.
'You remember huh, Al?' Karl said. He got down on his knees massaging Al's ears. 'Breath my brother, breathe.' My head kept throbbing, but we had to get on the road.
29
We drove straight through the rest of New York. Thankfully, Karl curled up with Al in the back seat and they slept all the way to Erie. Elvis's early 60's, post-Army period got me through to Cleveland. Critics dismiss this period of Elvis's music, but I thought it was one of his greatest. On numbers like Such a Night, originally done by Johnnie Ray, Are You Lonesome Tonight, originally done by Al Jolson and It's Now or Never, Elvis's interpretation of Mario Lanza's, O Solo Mio; it was like listening to a music history class. Elvis was great as a crooner, which to me didn't take anything away from his ability to rock.
After the early sixties, I switched gears and listened to his complete Gospel work, which got me all the way to Toledo. Gospel music is an interesting study in Americana because there isn't one type of Gospel music. Elvis did Black Gospel, he did white rural Gospel, and he did traditional white upper class Protestant gospel. That's a huge swath of music and Elvis did them all better than anyone. The fact he brought all of those types of gospel music together is just more testament to how much of a uniter Elvis was. No wonder the government wanted him discredited.
It scared me that I now thought like Karl.
Toledo to Indiana we listened to the seventies period. Although everyone assumes this is when the King went into the tank, I disagree. The live album from Memphis is my favorite, followed by the afternoon show at Madison Square Garden and the studio album, his last, Moody Blue. When we made the turn off the Indiana toll road to US 31, Elvis kicked in to Moody Blue. That's when we got the first glimpse of the Golden Dome.
'Man, check it out,' Karl said when we made the turn down Notre Dame Avenue.
'This is some special place. TV doesn't do it justice,' I said. Al had his head out the window and his ears flapped in his face. The Golden Dome straight ahead and in the sunlight it gleamed almost like it was supernatural. The way the N.D. football team had played in the last couple of years, gave plenty of evidence the structure was not supernatural or at least God's mom had focused on other things.
We parked in a student parking lot and headed into the campus. It was the Friday afternoon before the Michigan football game, so the place was buzzing. Music blared out of the dorm rooms and lots of older guys, wearing green tartan pants and Notre Dame sweaters, walked around. You could smell meat grilling and the whole place smelled like a huge tailgating party.
'Uh, Karl?' We walked down what I learned they called the South Quad, and had just passed a dorm with gargoyles on it called Alumni Hall.
'Yeah, Duff?'
'Now that we've traveled nearly a thousand miles to thwart Newstrom. How the hell do we find him and whoever he's 'programmed' to do this massacre?'
'I have no idea.'
'That's great.'
'Let's follow the crowd and keep our eyes out for Newstom and anything that looks funny.' As he finished, a dozen Notre Dame Students with just their underwear on, their bodies painted green and their heads spray-painted gold, ran past us.
'I gotcha, Karl.'
We walked past the Knute Rockne memorial gym, cut across the lawn in front of Morrissey Hall, and came
