green 18 first 5 chapters
Aching for Green
In my mind is playing what I’ve seen
But refused to admit
Until I can take no more of it
This madness of in-between
And in my soul I ache for green
John ‘Black’
July 9, 1985
1
It came like the wind of assurance to the backdrop of an awakening sky. The lone figure still had stubble on his face despite the day’s importance. He was tall, 6’ 1”, but not overly so, his chiseled form showed as the breeze played on his thin green shirt that was ragged with several holes. That’s the thing about prison you come out the same as you go in at least when it comes to clothes. He was lean, he had always been so, and because of a fast metabolism the clothes still fit. He had gained a good amount of muscle and the breeze showed his bulging arms and chests to an audience of none.
His name was simple, like he himself was, though he had been rich he had never grown accustomed to the finer things in life, even though he had them. John, simply put a good name, a strong name. He didn’t share his last name with many, though prison tends to rape those inside of privacy, but now he stood simply and ubiquitously John.
He was on the edge of a highway; he would have liked it if it had a name like rt. 66 or Interstate 95 for there would be some significance there, and probably more cars. But no, he stood on a highway in the middle of nowhere; nothing seemed to be on it but the prison he had just left. He had walked far enough so that the prison was out of sight and this was where he chose to stop. He was not tired, or perhaps not tired of walking. He was in fact tired of his life. Prison had worn him down the slow monotony of days passing, always the same routine in an endless stream of days. But it did end and he had his release papers to prove it. So now what was he supposed to do? He had no real skills he could swing a hammer but didn’t have much practice with nails. As he contemplated his dilemma and wondered exactly why he hadn’t hid all his money away somewhere the cops or FBI couldn’t find it he couldn’t find an answer. He was sure if he went back someone else would be living in his house and that all the money and guns that were hidden in the walls would be gone.
So he really had no purpose, prison had soured him to crime and it was all he was really good at. He was something of a legend, they caught him for half a dozen robberies but he had done hundreds. He had lost count in the 230s. So when he saw a glint of a car coming he was happy for the break, perhaps something good was on the way, even if it was a ride to town that would be welcome, but he wondered if this desolate road actually went to a town or if he had somehow been trapped somewhere in the middle of America where there was literally was nothing.
2
“Hey, so you just get out?” Said the driver of the ’69 Cadillac that was black with brown rust spots on the passenger side. What John couldn’t see was that the driver’s side had been fixed and instead of spots of brown-red-orange there were spots of white bondo where the rust had been scraped away. The individual driving was a man but barely that, he couldn’t be more than 20, and to John 20 seemed a world of experience past. The woman, herself not more than a girl, who sat in the passenger seat was something more to look at than the driver in his wife beater and tan pocket shorts. She at least had assets that were beautifully displayed in a low cut top, her bra, also low cut, barely covered her monstrous breasts. She had to be a D cup or a DD and she was thin with short shorts on. All the exposed flesh, legs and breasts and a stomach that had a belly button ring, made John seem dizzy. Had it really been so long that he was ill equipped to talk to a pretty girl but it was the driver that was addressing him.
“Hey I said you just get out?”
John stood, leaning on the roof of the car, looking down at all that luscious flesh and somehow he found his voice. “Yeah not more than a couple hours.”
“So you’re not a mute, that’s good. Where you headed? We ain’t got no real destination in mind we just set out to see the world but you are welcome to join us if you want.”
“Sure.” Said John still not seeing enough of the beauty in the front seat.
“Well get in.”
John pulled himself away from the picture perfect girl and opened the door to the back seat and got in. There was some mess on the floor, empty bottles, food wrappers and bags, the basics of cross country travel. He didn’t mind he was glad to be out of the day that was heating up and would no doubt be a scorcher. He had hated the heat, having grown up in the northeast where the climate was much cooler, but he had fought it and worked out in it getting used to it. This was why he had barely broken a sweat on his several mile walk. But he was out of the sun now and it felt good. He rolled down the window and let the breeze play on his head and hair.
“I’m Mark.” Said the driver looking back in the rearview mirror.
“And I’m Sarah.” Said the girl who turned around to look at him. Neither of them were wearing seatbelts but the car didn’t mind for it had come from a time before buckle laws and resisted them in its unwavering inability to be upgraded.
“Nice to meet you I’m John.”
“Well John we are running away from a world that held nothing for us and we are in love.” He took his eyes off the mirror and looked at Sarah and said, “Ain’t that right baby?”
“Yeah.” And then they kissed and it seemed full of passion but there was something missing in her response. He decided to file that information in the what-the-fuck-do-I-need-to-know-that for file and leaned back and stretched his legs in the big backseat. He didn’t realize how much he had missed driving in a car until that moment when he sat fully relaxed staring into the breeze.
3
They hadn’t driven far when they came to a gas station. It was close to the Prison and it must have been the only business they did because today, a Thursday, there were no visits and the gas station was empty. There seemed to be a layer of dust on everything. The pumps looked like they hadn’t been cleaned in decades but they pulled up anyway and drove over a pressure line that rang a bell. It was that bell that made him realize the full gravity of his situation, he was free, free to do anything he wanted. He had no parole, having waived it, and had no probation. He was a free man to go out and experience the world. He could literally do anything that he wanted. And right now he wanted a Coke in one of those old bottles or maybe a Pepsi, he really had never figured out which he preferred more but then he got the inkling for an OJ. They didn’t serve OJ in prison and all they had was an orange drink mix but that just tasted like sugar.
“Pump the gas baby I’m gonna pay.”
“But…” She tried to say something but her words trailed off somewhere only she could hear.
“Just pump the damned gas, I’ll be out in a minute.”
Now with the amount of street smarts that John had he should have figured that something was up but he was in such a good mood, he had such a natural high from the rush of freedom, that he really didn’t notice the short conversation. He was already in the in the store when she started to pump the gas and once inside he was amazed. He just stood and looked at the racks of chips, gum and candy and then he was flabbergasted by the cooler doors and the contents within. He walked over and opened one and let the cool air breathe him in. Through the mist there came a figure and he walked with determination, it was Mark and he had walked right past the cashier who tried to tell him that it was pay first.
He put a hand on John’s shoulder and there was warmth in his touch. “Get whatever you want my treat jail bird.” John really had to admit that the Kid was a good shit. He had lucked out, he hadn’t gotten a nun or a car with screaming Kids he had gotten a car with two teenagers in love and he asked himself, ‘Was there really anything more beautiful?’ He grabbed a Red Bull, some sodas, chips and some Swiss rolls. He was in the process of trying not to drop any of the assortment when he heard the Kid’s voice and he knew instantly what the intensity meant.
4
“Open the mother fucking register and give me the money! Are you deaf? I’m not going to ask you a third time.” He cocked back the hammer and pointed it at the cashier who stood looking at him in a daze. John was not convinced he was categorically normal, there had to be something wrong with him. Who just stands there doing nothing when there is a gun in his face? Maybe the attendant was just stupid, maybe he was inbred. Maybe his mom and dad were really his mom and his granddad or his grandma and dad. But John had confused himself his mind writhing with the idea of what such a situation would do to a young man that when he heard the shot he dropped everything in his arms.
He bent over to pick them up and the Kid was already behind the counter grabbing cartons and loose packs of cigarettes and putting them in a bag that had a smiling face on it. The designer of the bag could not have had days like this in mind.
“That’s all you want?” Said Mark as he fiddled with the register trying to get it open.
John walked over and put the shit on the counter and leaned over the counter and hit a button on the register. The drawer popped open with a happy ringing sound.
John looked at the blood and brains that was dripping off the phone cards and contemplated how dreadful it was that the poor cashier had to hear that happy sound every day he worked here and for what? Now he lay dead, it was a happy trail to nowhere. Yeah he might get a write up in the paper but a dozen or so years down the road he wouldn’t be remembered especially by the 18 year old who would be standing in his place listening to the same happy sounds trying to tell the customers that it was pay first, hoping not to get a rash of shit for his store’s policy.
“Grab some food.” Said the Kid and handed him half a rack of bags.
John went out and grabbed all kinds of food, munchies and drinks. He filled up a dozen or so bags and carried them in both hands. The Kid walked around the register and looked at John.
“Well let’s go.” He said but John just looked at him. “What?”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Oh lighters.” He said and grabbed the full rack and put it in one of the bags.
“No.”
“What then?” Silence while John let him think. “Mother fucker say something or you will end up like him.” He said pointing the gun at John.
“The safe.”
“What?” The Kid said in genuine shock. “You can crack a safe?”
“Been a few years but I’ll try.”
The truth of the matter was that John was one of the best safe crackers in the country and the guys in the pen knew it and he was given user manuals to over 50 safes as a token of friendship from the librarian so he was not surprised when he saw the safe, it was digital and like any good computer device it had a backdoor programmed in and John knew the codes. He punched in the codes to reset the password and then the override codes and he just set a new password and then input the same password and the safe opened with a surprise. He guessed that this far in the boonies, so far from a bank it shouldn’t be a surprise but inside was filled with bills. He emptied the two stacks and there had to be over 20,000 dollars a couple week’s sales, maybe a month.
The Kid, Mark, was ecstatic. “Oh man you are the shit! How did you learn that shit?” And so on he went with juvenile praise and admiration but John was silent. He knew the Kid shouldn’t have killed the cashier and John was worried not even three hours out and he was already an accessory to murder.
The Kid jumped in the car and threw the money at Sarah who was in the passenger seat waiting and John had to admit she looked even better covered in money.
5
The camp site was orderly, there was a small grill where hotdogs and hamburgers were grilling but the real work was done in the furnace that they had put together.
“Now tell me again what this is for?” Said the Kid.
“For our next job.” Said John.
“What next job? What are we gonna hit a blacksmith shop?”
“No money in it.” He paused looking back at his work. Not bad if he had to say so himself.
“Ok.” Said the Kid after a few seconds of anticipation.
“I guess I should tell you some things.” Said John as he walked over to the chairs where Sarah handed him a burger. He didn’t eat it he just let it sit on his lap on the paper plates they had gotten from another convenience store but this time they had bought it.
“Ok so tell me.” Said Mark who had positioned himself behind Sarah and was clinging to her tightly.
John had to choose his words carefully for he really saw potential in his two partners in crime. “While I know you think that the convenience store was good…” The Kid looked at John taking a bite of his burger. “But there are a lot better ways to make money and the killing has to stop now. It’s too risky and gets too much attention from the wrong people, people that will want to see us hanged.”
He waited for a response and after the Kid stopped kissing Sarah on the cheek and neck he realized that a response was expected and he said, “Ok fine no more killing. I know I shouldn’t do it but it’s something that I have done for fun over the years.”
Hearing the Kid talk about over the years was mildly amusing to John who let a bit of a smile crease his lips. “Ok. If we are going to make money there are two ways; banks and jewelry stores.”
“Bad ass!” Said the Kid and John knew he wasn’t being sarcastic, that he really liked the idea. This was good for John really wanted to make some money.
“Alright I could use the help but we all have to be on the same page on this one or we don’t go. No killing and no shooting.”
“Fine man I don’t give a shit.” So they were agreed.
“There’s a saying amongst Jewelry Thieves and Bank Robbers…” He started but then he thought better of it he would save the speech for later. “Never mind that now. I have a couple jobs lined up. I knew I would be getting out and that I would need money. I wasn’t sure where I would get the gun but you have one. I would rather we all had them but we will have to make due. Next town over there are two jewelry stores and we are going to hit both of them.
“Bad ass!” Repeated the Kid and John was beginning to think he was right. John had been so lost in a mind numbing daze of robberies that he had forgotten how fun they were; perhaps that was where he had gone wrong. He had had plenty of days to think of what he had done wrong and there had been so many little things. He had been pushing the envelope and pulling robberies every day. These were too close together distance wide. The whole state of Nebraska had been looking for him, no wonder he had gotten caught. He was taking too many risks. It was almost as if some part of him wanted to get caught. He had sworn to himself that he would not get that way again. His new crew was ragtag but it was not the first time he had worked with a woman. He thought back to the gorgeous wild women he had worked with. The robberies had been good and the sex even better. Where had they all gone? They were lost in the grips of change, distilled by time. He hoped they were free and another hope came into his mind as a whisper on the wind, ‘let’s hope you can control the Kid.’ He knew he was breaking his rule of only working with professionals but he didn’t have much choice he had to do the jobs and he could use the help.
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