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CLUE NUMBER FIFTEEN (from South Dakota):


For the Hidden Journey:

Violence only masquerades as strength; true strength flows from restraint.


For the Puzzle:

Here is the fifteenth clue for the puzzle/cryptogram:

Kryptos is Greek for "hidden." Find Kryptos, and it will help you solve this puzzle.

This is clue 15. The remaining four clues will help you solve the puzzle/cryptogram.

                                   


The Story:

He nearly started a war right in South Dakota. We were feeling hungry so we stop in a little town and find the usual homemade cafe. These cafes are the same all over, and they're definitely strat. They're always small, family run, put out basic food, and have paintings some relative did on the walls and a rack of postcards saying "quitcherbellyachin'."

So we go in and as we sit down, I notice some big corn-fed farm boys are at the counter and I feel a cloud forming, like we just invaded their turf. They're wearing over-alls and stained blue jeans, and one of them has a pack of nicspliffs rolled up in the sleeve of his ratty T-shirt, just like some black-and-white movie from the 50s.

They look around at us and hold us in their eyes and I feel a chill that rips up through my spine and lights a fire when it hits my skull. I have this sinking feeling like, "Here we go again."

Sure enough, they spock our car and start making fun of it, guffaws and a few words here and there, just to let us know that they're torqueing us. We order some burgers and Rick seems oblivious, he and Alex are talking about how hot it is in Texas and then all of a sudden he says to us, "I'm getting a bad feeling about those guys over there. I been on the streets and I know when some bad shit's coming down. Let's get out of here."

So does Alex listen to this common sense? Of course not. His pride is flaring out and he says, "They're just talking." He'll never look like he's backing down. Rick seems sort of resigned and just looks out the window. I keep hoping the farm boys'll finish eating and leave, but their plates are already gone and they're obviously enjoying riffing off of us. These guys are all D-9s, six-four and beefy. They grow football players out there, believe me. Offensive linemen, linebackers, the big ones.

Finally one of them with scruffy blond hair turns to his friend and says real loud, "Hey look, they're from California. Isn't that where they grow all the fruits?" And they all split out, har har.

This lights Alex's fuse, and he gets this smoky look behind his eyes. He gets real stiff and just disappears into himself. The food comes and he acts like it's not there. Then one with slicked-down black hair says, "Well, there's three of them traveling together, maybe they're from San Francisco," and Blondie tells his buddies, "Yeah, I hear they're letting queers into the Army now."

That's the camel and straw gig for Alex, and he stands up really quick and heads straight for these five guys. Rick says, "Looks like I gotta get ready to kick some farmboy ass," and he gives me this weary look like, "oh man, why did you clowns have to get me in this assbreaking fight in the middle of nowhere?"

(continued in Chapter Eighteen of I-State Lines)


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