David headed off on a bus to the location of the shop. It was not easy to get there. He had to take multiple buses and it took a while to get there. On the ride, he thought about what everyone had told him over the last couple of days. He thought about what grams had said. How she did not blame him and how he need not carry the burden he placed on himself for so long.

He thought about her courage and resolve on saying she would still go on even if he left and how scare she was about how she could not turn away from her responsibilities. He also thought about Cheeto, Capt'n, Claudia, Allen, Sammy, Clyde and his dead son. How they all had to struggle with their own lives and how they all approached them so differently, yet still they had to deal with the crime and violence on top of it all.

He wasn't like Claudia. He could not do the, teach every child and send the off and hope for the best approach. He also couldn't do the Cheeto or Capt'n thing and just maroon through life hoping to land somewhere and carve himself a spot while he saw evil men do evil things to good people. But he didn't trust or believe in the police either. He didn't as a child and he didn't as a soldier seeing their corruption and incompetence abroad. What he didn't want to admit is that the also sought thrill and excitement.

It was something he became addicted to and the mundane, day to day, routine was driving him crazy. He was young and still with a lot to prove and felt trapped, underutilized for all the skills and the knowledge he had. If he was going to stay, he needed something to let him feel free and alive. It was clear from the argument with Grams that David had a lot of anger and pent up frustration that would need to be focused, and he might have found an avenue for them.

He rode across town. It was the morning commute still. He saw women, men, boys and girls go about their business. Getting on the bus waiting on the next stop and going on about their daily routine. People trying to provide, to get ahead. Some had smiles on their face, others were stoic, but none seemed mad. None appeared defeated. How could they right?

It was morning and no matter where they were going, how bad things were or how much work was left for them to reach their goals, they still got up this morning and set out. They could have stayed home. They could have given up on whatever made them get up and make this commute. But they didn't, not yet. They all still had hope for their plans. Just like Grams had said earlier. This made David smile.

Almost two hours and three buses later, David arrived at the old docks. The area was heavily industrialized. Lots of fisheries and lumberyards. It was busy and a lot of trucks, and rigs roamed around almost freely.

It was not touristy or a pedestrian friendly zone, which made it difficult to navigate. The sidewalk disappeared at a certain point and only gravel road remained. There were no trees or shade of any kind. The only structures were old generic buildings with faded colors and no clear visible points of entry. The smell of salt water was the only reminder of the ocean nearby. There was no beach or clear way get into the water, not that one would want to get in to it.

David made it to the place that the Capt'n had instructed to Clyde's location. It was a business front in a newer building. It didn't look rundown and looked busy. At least busier than the old run down shop Clyde had taken David to. This facility read 'Freedom International'. It was an interesting name for a car shop David thought.

David didn't notice any cars out, or anybody, or anything that one would expect to see at a car shop.

"What kind of car shop is this?" asked David as he walked through the front door and was greeted by a receptionist.

"Good afternoon, can I help you?" asked an older woman at the front desk.

"Hi yes, I don't know if I'm at the right place but I'm looking for a Clyde Johnson?"

"May I ask who is looking for him?" she asked friendly enough.

"Uhmm, yes. David Zamorra. I'm a friend of his," said David awkwardly, like most people do waiting at the edge of a receptionist table, awaiting them to confirm you claim.

David waited with anticipation to see if Clyde was present, and if he would even see him, and what Clyde had to do with this business.

The receptionist made a call and talked to the other person on the line. David felt as if she was eyeing him, sizing him up somehow. He looked around, paranoid, not sure what to expect. Were there cameras hidden, would some huge security guard come out asking him to leave or take him in for some sort of interrogation?

David tried to look at his surrounding for clues as to what the business was, but nothing hinted at it. The office was clean with a couch and photos of customers and local business awards, magazines, and a soft ball youth program proud sponsor sign.

David could not hear the shop noise, and the homely interior made him forget of the dirty, chaotic, industrialized outside. Even the contemporary rock the receptionist was playing with the air-conditioning running at a comfortable seventy degrees made David aware that he was sweating from the walk and probably smelled of the outside world.

Once the receptionist was done she told David, "Clyde will be right out if you want to wait for him."

"Sure no problem," he replied.

"Excuse me but what do you guys do here exactly?" asked David, not able to decipher it for himself.

"We do personnel protection armor for the private sector, for vehicles and law enforcement agencies as well as government. Would you like a brochure?" she said smiling, handing David a brochure with all of the company information. David chuckled as he read the handout.

"Interesting," he said.

"So do you only deal in armors or do you also deal with weapons?" he asked the kind, old lady whom he noticed her nameplate read Cindy.

"No, only personnel protection. No weapons," she said with a hint of pride.

"Okay. Thank you, Cindy. I'll wait right here. Do you know how long it will be?" David asked.

"Oh shouldn't be long. Clyde is just in a meeting. He should be right out," said Cindy going back to work on a ten year old monitor typing away. Sure enough about ten minutes later David heard the familiar voice of Clyde as he walked a customer out of the office.

"Hope you don't have too long of a drive back," said Clyde to the gentleman.

"Well with this L.A. traffic, you never know. It could be thirty minutes or three hours," said the gentleman.

"Yeah I hear ya. I have to deal with this everyday too," said Clyde sympathetic to the man's predicament and shook his hand.

"Well I won't keep you then. Thank you for the information and I'll be sure to look it over," said Clyde.

"Sure no problem. Give me a call if there is anything that we can do for you," said the gentleman, clearly a vendor and not a customer.

David sat throughout the entire exchange silently on the soft brown leather couch, looking over a magazine of Hunting World. Would Clyde be glad to see him, mad, or indifferent David thought as he turned the pages. So he sat, waiting for Clyde to be the first to signal to him.

"Well aren't you a sight," said Clyde prompting David to follow him.

"I guess I've seen better days," replied David as he got up to meet him.

"Looks like you found me. Come on in. Let me show you around," said Clyde with a casual greeting that gave no indication of hostility but also did not indicate a warm greeting. It was formal, as if it were a job interview.

"Right, it wasn't so hard to find the place actually," replied David, surprised himself at the relative ease of finding Clyde and the shop.

"Hmm, it seems it wasn't," said Clyde retrospectively. If David could find him so easy, could others?

"Well, it's a good thing I stopped with all of that nonsense then," Clyde continued.

"Did you really?" asked David.

"Yes sir. I'm all done with it."

"So just like that, after everything you going to stop cold turkey?"

"Let me show you our facilities here," said Clyde avoiding the question and changing the subject.

"It's a small shop but we do consistent work. I'm sure Cindy showed you our catalog. We do personnel protection for the private individuals, companies, local law enforcement and some government agencies," Clyde repeated the company tag line as Cindy and no doubt any other employee would do upon request.

"Our specialty is retrofitting vehicles with ballistic proof glass and armored backed panels. We can also rate for small explosions and even RPG (rocket propelled grenade) blasts, should you happen to find yourself one night lost in Watts," said Clyde as he smiled.

"This six thousand square feet shop is owned and operated by me and I employ approximately twenty people who help me do the work and administration. We are licensed and bonded with the better business bureau and sponsor a mean coed soft ball team," said Clyde as he continued his tour. As mentioned, the facility was not that impressive. It was rather small and not a lot of people worked there, but they did great work and had good return business.

"How long have you been operating?" asked David.

"We've been up for about seven year," replied Clyde.

David thought of the timeline and realized this was when Clyde would have started to venture out. Maybe this too was the reason why he wanted to stop going out at night.

"It's a nice set up you have here. Certainly something to work on and protect," said David.

"Have you had lunch yet?" asked Clyde as it was almost noon now.

"No but I had something on the way."

"How did you get here by the way? It's not close to where you live." asked Clyde.

"I took the bus. Actually a couple of them," said David.

"Good-golly! That's no short ride," said Clyde surprised at the method.

"Come on let me take you out for lunch," insisted Clyde guiding David out with him.

"Oh no you don't have to. I had an elote (corn cob) on the way."

"Nonsense! I know this great seafood place down the street that has amazing shrimp tacos. They are no street elotes but they are damn good," said Clyde with a slight English accent on the elote but still pronounced well.

"Come. We'll eat, we'll talk. You might even get a pity drink for that face of yours. Seriously man look at you. You look like Gorgeous Georges' ugly cousin, Monstrous Marvin! Ha-ha-ha," said Clyde as he led David away with him.

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