The Journal of Water and Air II

“So you'll be on an airship then?” he asked. I had known that this would bother him, but it wasn't as if I could change the position I had been assigned. One of the things that my boss and the air force had in common was that they didn't take no for an answer.

“That's right,” I agreed. I had learned as a small child that it was better to just agree with him and not try to explain or justify.

“I don't trust the sky, it can change on you suddenly,” father glared up at the sky with such intensity that he was still glaring when he looked back down at the ocean. Having said his piece however, he now fell silent again and as bad as I felt about it, I was relieved. I had been afraid that I was going to get a lecture about how many times in his life the weather had suddenly changed on him. I was so grateful for the silence that I didn't try to strike up another conversation, even with me leaving it wasn't worth risking an argument. I had thought that maybe we would have more time when we got back to father's house but he said he was tired and said goodbye to me at the door. If mother was still alive there would have been a huge dinner and she would have cried over me, but father isn't very sentimental. It didn't matter that I was going to war and risking being shot at, even if the chance was rather smaller as a journalist than it would have been if I was a real soldier, father would never cry over me.

When I got back to my rooms the delivery man had come and gone, leaving behind him five crates, all with the logo of both the air force, and the newspaper I work for. As if I needed a reminder of the union that had removed my status as immune from the war. I opened the crates and did some packing since I will have to be at the air field early tomorrow and I don't want to forget anything in the last minute rush. After a while I couldn't stand it anymore, all of the army gear made me uncomfortable and depressed, so instead I pulled this journal from behind the radiator and I started to write.

My mind was just drifting, trying to remember how it was that I had started my next entry, when a guard came and ordered me out of my cell. I was surprised, I had expected to be there longer. If they had really wanted to make me sweat they should have left me there for at least a couple of days. As it was I was still at the point where I was grateful not to be crowded on all sides under a blazing sun.

I was taken up to the captain's quarters, for what I assumed would be an interrogation. I still wasn't afraid, I had grown far too used to the idea of death over the last couple of weeks to be frightened of the idea of being asked a few questions. Compared to the person I had once been I liked to think I was stronger, even though I knew that in truth it was more resignation than anything else. I now had more of a feeling that things would happen and no matter how much I worried about them, nothing was going to change that.

The captain's room was about the same size the captain's room on the dirigible, small until you considered the limited amount of space given to everyone else on the vessel. The captain himself was seated at a fold away desk reading a paper when I was shown in. I would have been more nervous as I stood and waited for him to look up but I had had a boss that liked to do this to throw employees off guard and I had become good at relaxing. I was just starting to zone out again, after all we still hadn't been given any water or food so I was not at my best, when the captain looked up.”

To be continued...

The Journal of Water and Air

I am trying this again, sorry, but I didn't like how I told the story the first time which is why I didn't end it. You'll see some serious differences in how it is told this time around.

It was the expected out come, the only chance we had of rescue was by the enemy. It was a relief to see even them after a week of floating in the inflatable raft. As my companions waved their arms to get the attention of the enemy transport, preferring imprisonment to death, I was busy wrapping my journal in my rain coat. Once I was sure the water wouldn't get to it I threw it overboard. It was a romantic notion that it might be found someday, or wash up on a beach of civilization. They would take it from me once we were prisoners anyway and it had been such a comfort to me that I would rather run the very slim chance that I might see it again. Maybe, just maybe, someone would see my name and address inside the cover and mail it to me. Maybe I would survive the future of prison camps.

They claimed they had no time to question us right away. I suspect they just wanted to make sure we were more frightened and make us more aware of our captivity. This was suggested by how quickly they separated us once we were on board. I was thrown into a cell deep in the hold of the ship to wait. I didn't really mind, it was dark and stuffy but less cramped for all of its smallness than the raft had been. I sank down, back to the wall, an thought about my journal. I had read it so many times on the raft to pass the hours that my own written words were burned into my memory. Now, from the very first entry, my sharp, thin, handwriting danced before my eyes.

I have no idea how long this journal floated, caught in the jetsam under the bridge. Many people probably passed over it before it caught my eye. In my profession I can't afford to pass over free paper however, not with rationing and wartime prices. It was well worth the effort for me to scramble down the steep, muddy, bank to fish this journal, sodden, out with a stick.

I was panting for breath by the time I was back on the street, one of the few times I cursed the weakness and asthma that had guarded me from the draft. I was painfully aware that they people who were passing by were staring at my disheveled and muddy clothing as I flipped through the journal's damp pages. I would have been very upset had, after all that trouble, all the pages been full. I was relieved to see only the first few pages had been used, with what looked like blurred figures. I ripped out the pages and threw them in the nearest waste bin, making this journal truly mine. Looking at it now that it has dried, you can hardly tell anything was taken out of it at all.

I made it to my rooms without anything else happening, but I was hot with embarrassment by the time I had gotten there. People had stared at me all the way from the river, clearly noticing that I was covered with river muck, damp, and clutching a wet notebook like it was plunder. Once in my rooms I placed this journal behind the radiator to dry and changed my clothes. I had to hurry, my father goes to bed early and I wanted to make sure I had the chance to say a proper goodbye to him.

My father and I have never had much to talk about and after half an hour of sitting in his dim parlor awkwardly staring, I suggested we go for a walk. Walking along the docks, near my father's house, was at least more comfortable. It also seemed to make my father more social. As a former sea captain I suppose we were now in his element. From what I can remember from my childhood my father was never very comfortable in houses. Finally we ended up at the end of a long pier, surrounded by the ocean on all sides, and he actually initiated a conversation for the first time the entire night.

To be continued...

The Green Lantern IIX

“Well if I'm supposed to go tell Fred that you might be our bondsman after all, then I should probably get there. It would be embarrassing if I was late with the message,” Bryan was fumbling and I knew that he was uncomfortable so I let him go. Bryan had already given me far more information than I had expected, now it was up to me to think through it and I would do that better with Bryan gone anyway.

I cleaned off the breakfast plates while I thought, it was good to keep my hands busy. After I was done with them I moved on to cleaning the rest of the apartment. It was mindless work which was just as good because if my mind raced any faster than it already was then it would probably explode. One conclusion that I came to quickly was that Bryan had no reason to lie to me and the facts fit anyway, Uncle Art was not worth mourning. Given that they were right and Uncle Art was trash then I had to decide where fact that he was family mattered more than my neutrality as a businessman. That was where my mind was hung up. I liked to think that I was a man of honor, and part of that code was that family could not be betrayed. However I also had to ask where I drew the line, would defending a man like Uncle Art seemed to have been tarnish that honor more than me betraying him?

It was two tortured days later that I met Officer O'Reilly about a block from the Green Lantern, it was his beat and I knew that anything that went through him would end up on O'Conner's desk. I had already checked in the Green Lantern to makes sure that O'Conner wasn't in there, he hung out there as much as most gangsters. I had the envelope full of money all ready for O'Reilly when he came around the corner, and I knew that O'Conner would have told him to expect me. Normal bails wouldn't be done like this but Goetz was a special case, it had taken a lot of underhanded deals to pull this off. I hoped that Bryan understood that I expected to be paid according to the difficulty of the job.

“Here's the money for the bail, all of the paperwork has already been done with O'Conner,” I told O'Reilly when he stopped to talk. I gave him the envelope.

“A pleasure doing business with you. I heard there was a spot of trouble over this at The Green Lantern between you, Barker, and Karpis. The next time you try to get yourself killed, don't do it on my beat, alright?” O'Reilly was only half joking, I could tell by his tone.

“Yeah, it wasn't my easiest bail and I was unprofessional. Don't worry, it won't happen again. This was a specially situation and I let my emotions take control. For a little while it looked as if things were going to get ugly but Fred Barker and I sorted things out. We had a nice long talk yesterday, Uncle Art wasn't worth a bent nickel anyway. Certainly not worth me getting killed over I found out.”

“You don't want to get on the bad side of the Barkers, I heard they killed the lawyer who didn't manage to get Lloyd Barker off.”

“They won't kill me, don't worry. I thought things out, I told you. Everything,” I'm not sure why I added the last part. Maybe I was trying to convince myself that everything was alright, because I still wasn't sure I was doing the right thing. Officer O'Reilly was already walking on, our conversation over, and I went in the other direction. With any luck I would never have to face anything connected to the issue again.

The Green Lantern VIII

“I don't know Jet, really. I mean there is some gossip, but I wasn't there when he was. If I had been I would have recognized him and tried to stop anything from happening to him. You know how gossip is, think about some of the things that they say about me, I'm sure the rumors are nothing.” Bryan looked extremely awkward, which only made me more determined to hear what was being said.

“Fred Barker seemed to think there was something wrong with my uncle and he knew him personally, that isn't a matter of rumor. Spit out what's being said around the gang Bryan,” I ordered.

“Well I guess that Old Man Dunlap latched on to the gang through Ma Barker so that he could drink more, and for cheap, through their connections. From what I understand he did have some feelings for Ma Barker, and they did hit it off alright when he was sober but if you remember anything from when we were kids you'll know how rare that was. He'd go out to bars and get drunk as hell and then talk to anyone who would listen about all kinds of things, including things that the gang didn't want the whole world to know about. I think they would have shot him at the drop of a hat, they were just looking for an excuse. When it was clear that some how or another they had been betrayed to the police and he had been out drinking the night before, it's easy to see how they might jump to conclusions without asking many question.”

“Fred said that Uncle Art would hit Ma Barker,” I prodded Bryan. Having known each other since we were small children and gotten into all sorts of trouble together it was easy to tell when he was trying to hold out me. At least this time I knew that he thought it was for my own good.

“That is what the rumors say,” Bryan said reluctantly. “I mean it wouldn't be the first time he's been accused of things like that.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well all of the rumors around town when your father kicked him out of the house. Everyone was always saying that Art Dunlap had a thing for his brother's wife and they had finally gotten into a fight because he hit her when he was drunk,” Bryan said, shrugging. This was obviously back in his realm of comfort. Then again it seemed that he thought I already knew about this part, that it was old news. Maybe he felt the shocking revelations were over so he could relax. I however had never heard any of this.

“Uncle Art liked Ma? And he would hit her?”

“Jesus, this was happening in your house, it was all over town. I mean it's what my family talked about at the dinner table for a week when it happened. I thought you were talking about specifics when you said you didn't know the details of why Old Man Dunlap was kicked out of your house. I didn't think you meant that you didn't know at all.”

“People didn't talk about it around me,” I said defensively. “And I was so young that when my father said it wasn't for me to know I didn't ask any more. Every time I asked father why Uncle Art was gone he would tell me that it was none of my business.”

To be continued...

The Green Lantern VII

I don't remember much of what followed at the bar. I remember asking for the tab and Sawyer stepping in to say that anyone who was a friend of Fred and Creepy didn't have to pay. At that point I was too drunk to argue. Bryan stayed with me, though I never asked him to, but I think he felt responsible. The only reason why I didn't complain was that he didn't interfere with anything I did, he just watched, and made sure that I didn't come to any harm. He shouldn't have worried, I get calmer the more that I drink, I'm not the sort to go out beat someone up after I've had a few. Instead, once I was fully drunk, all I wanted to do was go home and go to bed. Bryan agreed that that was for the best as well, and offered to drive me home in his car. I think that was mostly so that he could continue to keep an eye on me though.

Once I got home I managed to get my coat and pants off without demeaning myself by needing Bryan's help. I had sobered up some on the ride. Bryan however didn't leave, even after I had crawled into bed. Instead he found my love seat and a spare blanket and curled up. I was too tired to ask him to leave and not sure if I even wanted him to. We didn't talk any more that night, we both fell into deep, whiskey caused slumber.

I did not wake up in the best mood, to say the least. I always get hangovers when I drink too heavily, and I should have known better. From the look of Bryan he was fine though, well that stood to reason with the crowd he ran with he would never be able to do any jobs if he suffered from drinking like I did. He made breakfast for both of us in my tiny kitchen.

“Been a long time since I cooked,” he commented. “Usually we either go out to eat or Ma makes us food. Hope you don't mind you're eggs a bit brown.”

“Stop calling her Ma,” I snapped, clutching my head. I could only hope that the coffee would be done soon. “She isn't your mother, you're mother is still in Indiana, telling her neighbors that you sell furniture up here.”

“She hasn't got the right to complain. She lives in style thanks to the money I send her. Besides, all of the neighbors know what I do because of the G-men who hang around, they're just too polite to call her a liar. I call Ma Barker Ma because that's what all the guys call her and she takes care of all of us when we're around, in a strange possessive way. She's too stupid to take seriously, that's for sure. Take the Old Man Dunlap thing, from what I've heard he was horrible to her but she stuck with him, she didn't have to. Oh Jet, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that.” Bryan looked horribly embarrassed as he set a mug of coffee in front of me.

“Look, I've calmed down, I just hadn't really had to face Uncle Art's murder until this point. Seems like everyone knew more about him then I did. Just what is the gossip around the gang about him? And I don't want you to be nice. I can take it.” I wondered if I could, but it was time to find out. I mean everyone was acting like I was being stupid, and I wanted to find out if I was. I was armed with coffee, was too hung over to shout, and I figured it was better to hear a dead relative torn apart by an old friend rather than his murderer.

To be continued...

The Green Lantern VI

“So you're saying I should help you because Uncle Art wasn't the best person?” I asked indignantly.

“I don't give a damn if you help us or not,” Fred's voice was flat though he was still looking at me with the same intensity as before. “I would just shoot you and save myself the trouble, I don't like trouble, problem is that it looks like that would cause me even more trouble. Plus that would be trouble with people who I can't afford to kill. I just want to make sure that you don't stab me in the back for revenge when I look away. I can understand standing up for family, my brother and I bring Ma with us everywhere don't we? That's why I'm worried about what you'll do if I leave you alone. If I have to I will kill you and sort it out afterwards.”

“If I was going to kill you I would have tried it before,” I said. Now all of the anger I had had was completely gone. I was tired and depressed more than anything else and I just wanted this all to be over with already. “I don't see any reason to be civil to Uncle Art's killer though.”

“And I see no reason to be civil to the nephew of the man who used to get drunk and hit Ma. The way that I see it we can ignore each other and I can get in touch with a bondsman I've worked with before. I don't like him much but he'll do.”

“Uncle Art wouldn't hit a woman,” I said, but I could feel doubt creeping into my mind. Memories were coming back to me from my childhood, things that I hadn't thought about for a long time. Uncle Art had left when I was young, my recollections of him were hazy at best, but I did remember some things.

“We'll you'd know I'm sure,” Fred said sarcastically, “now that's we've sorted that out I'm out of here.” He turned on his heel and left the office. As soon as I was sure that he was gone and collapsed in the chair behind the desk. Bryan came running into the office like the building was on fire.

“He didn't do anything to you, did he?” he asked, it was more panicked than I had seen him in a long time.

“I'm fine,” I reassured him, though I'm sure that my voice showed how tired I was. “We just talked. He was nothing like I imagined him. Tell me though, was Uncle Art really that bad?”

“Well I don't remember much about him, we were pretty young still when he left,” Bryan said, there was a note of caution in his voice. “I know that he used to drink a lot and that caused problems between him and your father.”

“Yeah, it did. You know, when they kicked him out they never would tell me why, I never did find out the reason,” I was becoming more and more thoughtful. The doubts that had crept into my mind during my conversation with Fred were becoming more well developed.

“Well it's all over now,” said Bryan, trying to change the subject. It was obvious he was worried about the path my mind was traveling down. “I'm sorry for getting you involved.”

“Tell Barker not to go to another bondsman yet. Give me a couple of days to think first. Right now what I really need is a drink and we should get out of here anyway, Sawyer will want his office back.”

To be continued...

The Green Lantern V

“I already told you to stop talking about me like I'm not here,” I said. This whole fight I had been still seated but now I stood up in full confrontation mode. I expected Fred to come at me again now that I had challenged him head on but he showed more restraint then I had ever heard he possessed. Part of that was explained when I noticed that he was glancing over at where Pat was cleaning some glasses, obviously the tommy gun had made an impression. I meanwhile paused in mid advance, unsure of what to do. I had no problem committing suicide by Barker but I wasn't to the point where I would attack a man when he wasn't looking. I'm not really the attacking sort anyway, it just isn't in my personality, it's the reason that I became a bondsman when all the boys I hung out with became gangsters.

“Let's talk this out, just the two of us, without all of the interruptions,” Fred said finally. “You obviously have a beef with me and I want to know what it is, but this isn't a good place to talk. Sawyer is a friend of mine, he'll let us talk in his office.”

“This better not be a plan to get him alone so you can off him Fred, I mean it, if he gets hurt at all I'm off the job,” Bryan jumped in.

“We're just going to talk,” Fred said. He was clearly exasperated with everyone as he motioned me to follow him. I paused for a second to look to Bryan for comfort but then I followed as requested. I had already started all of this with the knowledge I might not survive and while what I was displaying at the moment was false bravado I was still going to act like I wasn't doubting my action at all. Pride demanded that I carry through or lose serious face in the underworld where I made my money. I had noticed the door I was led to in the past, it was marked private though and in a place like the Green Lantern that meant that the less you noticed it the longer you would live. Fred apparently didn't live by this rule though because he knocked on it and was invited to enter.

“Mr. Sawyer, we're still working out the details of our plan. Do you mind if we use your office for a little while to talk?” Fred asked, his head around the door frame. The owner of The Green Lantern stood up with a friendly nod to my companion.

“You're paying me enough, besides, I need to talk to Pat anyway.” Once Sawyer was gone I had no excuse not to enter the office, though I jumped slightly when Fred closed the door. He perched comfortably on the corner of the desk while I stood like a naughty school boy in front of him. For the time being the discomfort of the situation had emptied my sails of anger.

“Now, without Bryan trying to protect you and speaking for you, what did we ever do to you?”

“Bryan had forgotten that you guys were responsible for killing Uncle Arthur.”

“Old Man Dunlap? Fred asked for clarification.

“Well my name is Jethro Dunlap,” I said. I could hear my voice going high with indignation again but this time it wasn't as assertive. More and more common sense was kicking in. “Uncle Art didn't even betray you guys to the cops, everyone knows it was some boy with a detective magazine. You killed him for no reason, he didn't deserve to die.”

“Your uncle used to get drunk and blab all over town,” said Fred. He leaned forward to speak intensely but his emotions were under control. “If he had kept a sober tongue in his head for more than a day at a time we would have never thought he was the one who had given us away. Old Man Dunlap put our lives in danger more times than I can count and I would have killed him sooner if he wasn't Mother's boyfriend. Your uncle was trash.”

To be continued...

The Green Lantern IV

“Now we're all friends here,” Bryan said, it was clear that he was starting to panic. I would feel bad for putting him in this position but I was past caring.

“I'm no friend of theirs,” I snapped, rounding on Bryan. Bryan was still feeling sympathetic though, which was lucky for me.

“Well you're a friend of mine,” was his only response. “Try to keep the peace for my sake anyway. You too Fred.”

“So long as he doesn't do anything else,” Fred said, relaxing slightly. I hadn't noticed that he had been tense until that point. It didn't make a difference to me though, I was still sailing high on anger.

“Stop talking about me like I'm not here,” I turned on Fred. “You want to say something to me, you say it to me, not Bryan.”

That was the last straw for Fred, he started towards me with murder apparently on his mind. I could hear the crowd behind us become quiet which I assumed was everyone waiting for me to die. It was very noticeable when compared to the usual loud hum that prevailed in The Green Lantern. The barman noticed the change in atmosphere because he looked up and put down the cloth he had been using to wipe the counter.

“I don't want you fighting in here,” the bartender called across the bar. “We've only just reopened after the murder.”

“Mind your own business,” I shouted back, not looking away from Fred. I must have been suicidal at this point. It's the only explanation.

“Then I'll have to make it my business won't I.” The note in the bartender's voice caught my attention and I actually turned to face him. He reached under the bar and pulled out a tommy gun. He held it was an amazingly steady hand, pointed directly at our group.

“I hate this place,” I commented, now fully distracted from Fred. “Even the bartender's a mobster.”

“Well of course, that's Pat Reilly, he runs errands for Dillinger,” Bryan said out of the side of his mouth.

“That's right,” Pat agreed, I don't know how he heard what we had said but he clearly had. “And the boss said that I could keep this with me to take care of any problems since we had the murder. Are you boys going to be a problem?”

“You won't cause any problems will you Fred?” asked Paula, twining herself around Fred.

“If you touch Jet you can count me out for the next job and I know you need me,” said Bryan, folding his arms and glaring at Fred. Ma Barker must have felt left out because she chimed in.

“Don't you go killing anyone in front of me Freddy,” she scolded, and then rounded on Pat. “And you leave my boy alone, he didn't do nothing.”

“It's true we don't want to get on the bad side of the Dillinger gang, and we need this place to be on our good side too. We can't have Sawyer holding a grudge against us this close to the job, and if we go and kill this pencil pusher in his joint, he will hold a grudge,” Creepy said. Fred pulled away from Paula and looked at them all with indignation. Pat meanwhile seemed to decide that there was no danger because he lowered his gun and went back to serving drinks.

“Why is everyone acting like I'm the one who started this?” asked Fred angrily.

“Because Jet has every reason to be angry with you,” Bryan said. I wanted to yell at him for his big mouth but I was afraid it would catch the attention of Pat's gun again.

“Well I'd love to know what it is because I've never seen him before in my life,” Fred complained.

To be continued...

The Green Lantern III

“Well you shouldn't have,” I said, this time standing for real. “If they're coming here I'll be going now.

“You can't,” Bryan said quickly. “You don't want to make them mad. I'm not asking you to give us the money, I would never make you do that. I can understand that family comes first, but you don't want to offend them. Trust me. Stay here and I'll explain it away so they won't get mad at you, if you leave before they get here they'll be suspicious.”

“You want me to shake hands with the people who killed my uncle?” I asked, full of disbelief.

“I knew Old Man Dunlap from back when we were kids and even if he was family to you, he wasn't worth you getting killed over. You've managed to walk the middle line, never getting on anyone's bad side, for so long that I'd hate to see you get yourself into trouble now. Your Uncle was a parasite, one who lived off of your father our whole childhood in the name of kinship. I'm not asking you to help us, just don't leave, for your own sake. Frank and Creepy are going to be upset enough with the bad news without having to add to their anger. This is going to put a real wrench in our plans you know.”

I don't know what I would have said in response to his heartfelt plea, probably something rude that he didn't deserve. He really was only looking out for me but my mind was starting to get too fogged with anger to think clearly. I didn't have the chance to say anything hurtful though, because that was the point that Frank and Creepy came through the door. I didn't recognize them at first, I'd never met them, and it didn't help that they had a little middle aged woman with them. I don't normally think of famous gangsters coming into a dive with someone like that.

“Good God, what's Ma doing here? She never comes along when we talk about jobs. She should be home right now listening to Amos and Andy,” Brian sounded actually shocked. Then the woman stood up from the table and I could see realization cross his face as the woman twined herself around the man I would learn was Frank. “That's right, I'd forgotten, with a new woman in her son's life of course Ma won't let them out of her sight for the next few days. She chased off my last girl through just talk. Any skirt a guy in the gang picks up she's sure to find a way to scare them off.”

“Good, maybe then the retched clan won't continue,” I snapped. I knew Bryan didn't deserve it but he knew I was upset and took it like a good sport. Unfortunately I said in a voice harsh enough that it carried and it attracted the attention of the group who now broke apart from one another to come over and talk to us. The look that Creepy, as Alvin is known, gave me as he came towards me from across the room made me even more angry then I had been before. I don't like being sized up.

“Is this the friend you were talking about?” he asked Bryan.

“Yeah,” answered Bryan quickly. I think he saw me about to open my mouth. “But he says that he can't help us. I guess he bailed out the Winston brothers and they still haven't paid him back. We'll have to find someone else.” This time the look Alvin gave me was even more scornful.

“What kind of bondsman doesn't have the money to do his job? I thought you said this guy's good Bryan.”

I've got money enough,” I cut in. I knew that I shouldn't, that Bryan had worked very had to make sure that I didn't say what I was saying, but my reputation had been attacked and I had to defend it. None of it is yours though,” I added. “I have standards.”

“Your friend got a death wish?” Fred asked Bryan, talking for the first time during our brief meeting.

To be continued...

The Green Lantern II

“So this is a call asking me to fix some mess of yours?” I asked. Bryan never knew when the G-men were listening in on his phone so he had been more than a little cryptic when he had asked me to meet him. Most of the cops in St. Paul were bought off so we were safe here though, which was the only reason why I had agreed to see him, I have no interest in being arrested. As a bondsman I know a lot of cops but even they can't do me much good when the feds are involved, and they are very involved when it comes to Bryan.

“Relax Jet, this time I actually need you in your true calling, I need a bondsman.”

“So whoever it is can jump bail? It makes me look bad every time,” I complained, even though we both knew it didn't. The town was a rigged game and I was fixed to win when it came to the law. They looked the other way when it came to the ratio of men I bailed jumped, and sometimes they even recommended me to out of town crooks who didn't know anyone. It was understood that I would get paid back by the crook in question, no matter what, or that crook would find himself in some trouble. I do know people who are willing to work off their debt if they are short on cash.

“Goetz has managed to get himself arrested and even with the cops fixed it looks like we'll need to pay bail,” Bryan continued, acting as if I had never said anything. “We're in between jobs and don't have the cash to pay both bail and general expenses. Besides, everything will look a lot more legit with a respectable man like you paying for his freedom.”

“Doesn't Goetz run with the Barker-Karpis gang?” I demanded, tensing.

“How do you know that? People aren't supposed to know who is in and who isn't, that's why we work in small groups instead of as a whole bunch,” Bryan looked suspicious. I wanted to take the opportunity to tell him not to underestimate my information but that would be distracting from the important part of his sentence.

“You're part of the Barker-Karpis gang now?” I demanded.

“Don't say it so loud,” Bryan hissed at me but I was too angry to care.

“Find someone else. I'm not going to help anyone with the Barkers. There are hundreds of bondsmen in this town, you don't need me so leave me alone,” I said, starting to stand. Bryan stopped me with a hand on my arm.

“What have you got against the Barkers?” Bryan asked. “We've been friends since the old days in Indiana. I think you owe me at least an explanation.” I didn't try to stand up after that, right now things were still friendly and Bryan was still looking relaxed but I knew better. He was becoming more intense, leaning forward slightly, and he could turn mean in a second if anyone upset him, that included me.

“Fine, Arthur Dunlap, that's why I won't help the Barkers, happy?” I snapped. I could see realization make a slow passage across Bryan's face, closely followed by horror. He sat back and gave a long whistle.

“Jesus, Jethro, I never put the pieces together before, even though I knew him. I'm so sorry. You must hate me now.”

“Don't worry about it,” I said. Now that it was out in the open I wasn't angry anymore. “You weren't with them when they shot him so I figure you can't be blamed. We're still friends, but I'm not helping you out on this one.”

“I can understand that. This is going to be a problem though because Fred and Creepy are going to be here in fifteen minutes and I promised them a good answer.”

To be continued...

The Green Lantern

The peeling door that announced Dapper Dan's Hot Dogs fooled no one who knew anything about the city. The door wasn't even left unlock most of the time, because anyone who would be served at the restaurant went through the back door anyway. The back door was painted green and in discrete letters decreed the establishment to be The Green Lantern. I personally hated the place, it attracted people who I didn't really want to be associated with. However when Bryan invites me somewhere I go, I don't see him often and he isn't able to just walk around town. This unfortunately also means that his ideas of a good meeting place are places like the Wabash Street Caves or this particular underworld hangout.

I have been to The Green Lantern before, don't get me wrong, I am well accepted there. That doesn't however mean that I like it any more. There are some people who walk into The Green Lantern and are instantly shot at, for no good reason other than that they are simply not liked. I heard about a guy who worked for a fixer who tried to come with his girlfriend to show off and they barely made it through the door before they were forced to hit the floor because of bullets. A lot of it is out of town people establishing a reputation by showing off, but that doesn't make it any safer.

Byran was already there when I arrived, sitting at a small table at the back of the dingy bar. I sat down at his table and looked around cautiously, though mostly it was out of habit. Bryan had let his suit jacket fall open now that he was comfortable, and besides he was as much of a showoff as anyone else there, and his shoulder holster was visible. That would tell anyone who did want to mess with us to keep their distance. Looking around I could see more shoulder holsters displayed, and in a couple of cases there was the hint of a revolver in a purse at tables where women were sitting. Some of the gangster molls are pretty but I know better then to even look at them twice, most of them have men at their shoulders ready to blow the head off of anyone they suspect with intentions.

“Why do we have to meet here?” I complained, turning back to Bryan.

“Can you think of a better place to meet, it's the only place I can think of where we can both sit and neither of us have to worry,” Bryan said, shrugging.

“I'm a respectable member of society, you forget. Do you know what it looks like for me to be seen here? The whole city knows what this place is,” I pointed out. I knew it wouldn't make a difference to him but I still felt that I should argue my point. I know Bryan pretty well, I mean we grew up together, I know him well enough to know that he won't listen to a word I say once he's made up his mind about something.

“You're way too modest. I know for a fact that most of the guys in here owe you favors and you're friends with most of the cops. No one is going to give you a hard time, and anyway, even if they did you would just have to come to me and I would take care of them for you,” Bran tapped a finger on the handle of his gun.

“Give it a rest, you know what I think of you showing off,” I snapped. Bryan just smiled at me, my humility had always stuck him as funny more than anything else, and I had long since stopped trying to seriously convert him to my way of thinking. It was probably just as well, you had to be cocky to be a good gangster, and Bryan was considered a big shot. “Anyway, stop calling me every time you need help, I'm a bondsman, not a fixer.”

“Can I help it that you've got connections,” Bryan said, brushing off yet another of my complaints in his casual way. It was one of the ways that our friendship continued to be firm, most people would grow annoyed with my whining but Bryan had a nonchalance that insulated him.

To be continued...

The Traitor's Command V

Now Micheal was unsure how to proceed. If he went over to the enemy side then his possessions would be safe, but he could not be sure that they would accept him if they found out he was an exile. If things went really badly he might even be sentenced to death for being twice a traitor. On the other hand the castle was likely to fall, no matter what he did and no matter how hard he fought or what he did that was almost a certainty. If the castle did fall then he would die with equal certainty. Turning the paper over and using a stick of charcoal from the fire to write, he quickly penned a response and dropped the blunt arrow back into the enemy below with his letter attached.

There was some risk to sending messages back and forth with the enemy Micheal knew, but it was a calculated risk. His men were tired after a long day of repeated attacks, they were unlikely to wake up and even if they did, they were unlikely to pay attention to what he was doing. It was still dark and everything had died down so people on other parts of the wall were also unlikely to notice what he was doing. What was far more important was the assurance that was shot back over the wall, on a fresh piece of paper. The commander of the enemy, or now his ally army, swore to God that Micheal would be under his protection, a part of the army and not killed. Micheal very calmly set to work quietly disassembling all of the defense engines he had built, they might now be used against him. When a rope and grapple hit the wall, instead of cutting it, Micheal made sure it was firmly connected to the wall, and then climbed down it with the sack of his possessions over his shoulder.

Micheal showed the men at the bottom of the wall the notes he had received from the arrow messages and they took him to his new leader. Micheal recognized the man in the tent instantly, it was a lord who was a great favorite at court and had been a friend of his father's right up until his father had become open about his plans. Lord Grayham was well known to be wiser than his age would suggest and a cruel tactician. Micheal now felt no shame in knowing that he had admitted he could not beat the enemy.

“Treven's son aren't you?” Lord Grayham asked, once he had dismissed the guard and they were alone in his tent. “I thought I recognized some of the tactics, and the machines of course. He showed me the drawings, saying that they were for protecting the king. I could have just killed you, but since I figured it was you I thought I would just invite you. This is the better way and besides,” here Lord Grayham made a motion with his hand, “I wanted to see this personally.”

Micheal had just enough time to turn and see the man with the sword rush from hiding. He felt himself stabbed but then all feeling left and he fell to the floor of the tent, surrounded by blood he was shocked to think of as his. Lord Grayham came to stand over him.

“I wanted to make sure you got what you deserved, three times a traitor. A traitor by blood, a traitor to our country, fighting for our enemies; and lastly a traitor to the people who trusted you to serve their country. Had you served them maybe you would have lived.” It seemed to cruel to Micheal, in his last thoughts, that the last words he would ever hear were the flinty words of Lord Grayham.

The Traitor's Command IV

“I know that things don't look too good but I'm here to help us win,” Micheal announced, as he threw down his pack. It was hardly an inspiring speech, but it did seem to work for a time, if only because the men knew that there was now someone in charge of them. They did their rounds, stood of straighter, and talked about what they would do to the enemy. The enemy never came to them however, and soon the men sank back into their former habits of sloth. Micheal couldn't blame them since he felt the same way, he had been excited for the chance to be in charge but now that he was, he could do nothing so long as the enemy ignored their corner.
Micheal would never know what tactician on the enemy side finally did point out his corner as a place that they could attack but he would forever be grateful. His men were thrown into disarray the first time ladders actually showed over their segment of wall, but the battlements were tall enough that they had time to collect themselves and repel the men from the top. Once they had been attacked once, everything changed. Micheal's men were now careful while they walked, and the enemy attacked more often. It was as if they hadn't existed before, but now they had been highlights as a focal point of the war. Micheal kept expecting the commander to remove him from his command since the spot had become so important but the commander either decided that he had deserved it or simply decided he had too much to do to worry about such a little picture task.
Micheal put all of his ideas into use, oil was boiled, saws were made to cut the rope so swords weren't dulled. Big rocks were found that could be dropped on any invader stupid enough to stand beneath the wall for long enough that the rocks could be aimed. Then Micheal turned to machinery and every siege engine his father had ever thought of lined his tiny section of wall, pointing both south and west. Some of them proved to work better in theory than in real life but those were taken apart and turned into something else. Micheal even started to make his own ideas for what new ways he could throw things on his former countrymen.
It was late at night when the arrow shot through the sky and landed on the stones of the south west corner. Most of the men were sleeping, it was a lull in the fight, Micheal was still up on the other hand. After the arrow landed Micheal realized how stupid he had been, had the enemy wanted to kill him it would have been easy, he had a torch burning right above his head. The enemy clearly did not want to kill him however, they had blunted the arrow. Instead of it being a weapon it was now a messenger and Micheal quickly tore the paper from the arrow before anyone woke up and questioned him about it. He didn't have to worry about any of the others reading it, he was the only literate, but it still might cause awkward questions.
It took Micheal some time to get past the flattery in the letter and get to the true content, he knew better than to think that the enemy thought that he was a great general. In any case it was all of the frills of the court, which Micheal had skipped in letters for as long as he could remember, even though it was considered bad manners. The point of the letter was that they were offering him a title and a portion of the land that they would take from his current lord, under the condition that he betrayed the lord's castle. The wording of the letter made it very clear that they had no idea who Micheal was and thought he was just another commander in the lord's hire.
To be continued...

The Traitor's Command III

“I offer my services to you, Sir.”
“For what?” asked the commander. He was a very busy man and very distracted, still it wasn't as bad a reception as he had thought he might get as a poor peasant bothering his betters.
“If it counts for anything I have combat experience and know tactics, I am willing to serve under you if you have any need for me. I am sorry I didn't come forward sooner but I wasn't sure how I would be received.” Now at least the commander was looking at Micheal.
“You know tactics?”
“I learned on my father's knee, exiled it is true, but I can't pretend that I didn't have the upbringing,” Micheal continued to bow, but from his place held up the ring on his finger. He knew that the crest on it was very clear in its origin, the decorations around it declared him to be from the now enemy nation. He spoke quickly now, knowing it was only a matter of time before the commander made his decision, and wanting to effect it as much as possible. “You can accuse me of being a spy, I thought of that, I am willing to risk it. I have lived here almost half of my life already, I am loyal to your side. I am an exile from the country I am from, the son of someone who tried overthrow their king. I promise you, I am not on the enemy's side.”
“You could have betrayed us any number of times, without us ever knowing you were here, you choose to reveal yourself. What worries me more is allowing someone I don't know take any sort of command of the few men I have at my disposal,” the commander said, leaning forward intensely. Micheal had the feeling that for a man who was leading the defense so poorly, that this was a very capable man, one who could see right through him. It was a relief to him that he had nothing to hide, he had told the truth.
“Give me command of anything, any task at all for that matter, let me prove myself,” Micheal said, responding to the commander's intensity with energy of his own. “Watch how I handle even the smallest job, and see for yourself if I overestimate my abilities, if nothing else you gain another soldier.”
“Take control of the southwest corner of the castle and the soldiers posted there,” the commander ordered and then turned to give orders to another man. Micheal straightened and turned away, disappointed for all of his words, that he had not been given a larger task. Out of any part of the castle the southern wall was the least often attacked, and to get a corner, the strongest part of the castle, was a further sign of mistrust. There was nothing Micheal could do about it and at least he now had something to do.
The castle armory had little for him to wear but Micheal made do with what he could find and beg. For the first time Micheal thought in longing of his father's armor, something that he had never thought of with any interest before. The heavy shield with their family crest was in particular an item to be desired now, it might save his life. Instead he was going to have to go with no shield at all and a helmet of inferior quality. He had pictured how he would look when he was a little boy, going off to his first command, he had always imagined that he would be a dashing figure, instead he looked like a beggar who had stopped at a blacksmith's.
The men of his command were not the brave soldiers he had envisioned as a child either. The south wall, with it's little attention from the enemy, seemed to be where they sent the men they didn't want on the front for one reason or another. From the first glance that Micheal got it seemed to mostly be age, too young, too old; or stupidity.
To be continued...

The Traitor's Command II

Now Micheal was working, even nobles worked in times of hardship he recalled, and this was certainly such a time. There was little food to be had in the kingdom now, with half of the farmers gone, and most of the grain going to the army. Had Micheal tried to live his former privileges he suspected that the people of the town he lived in would have risen up against him and denied him the little food there was to be had, everyone was having to pitch in.

Life was more difficult now, for everyone, but when the armies came marching across the border and into the area, Micheal knew that things were about to get harder yet. Again he was uprooted, and this time he was forced into close quarters, the entire town was crammed into the local lord's castle for protection. Micheal was able to find a place on the battlements where he sat on the few possessions that he had grabbed, mostly only the stuff he had brought from his life as a noble, and watched the town burn. There was a strange feeling of disconnection, everything that he was, everything that he was attached to was with him. The life that he had built for himself in the town was an empty shell for him and he was confident that he could create another so long as he kept what mattered.

It was only when the castle came under siege that Micheal started to worry, now his person was coming under threat and it seemed in legitimate danger. The lord of the castle was gone, as were a majority of the men at arms and knights who served under him, serving their king who had called on them for aid. That left the lady to defend the castle with the few men who were left to her and what men were to be had to fight from the village. It didn't help that she was young and inexperienced, never having even lived through a war before. This did not fill Micheal with confidence for his continued well being.

Micheal had gained an almost permanent place on the battlements and no one bothered him so long as he did not get in the way of the defenders who had little to do anyway. Without someone to take proper command they mostly stood around and only acted when they had to repel ladders. It was a sad sight for Micheal, who's head was full of his father's would be plans in case they were ever sieged during the rebellion. There could be hot oil, archers, machinery that could be set up, but that was only if they were led by someone who knew what they were doing. More then once Micheal wanted to step in and shout at them that they were doing the whole thing wrong but he knew better in his position. It was hard for him but he had to face the fact that he was not Sir Micheal, and they would not listen to a man from the village for advice on warfare. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to help defend the castle, except that he was in it, he still felt some loyalty to the country he had been raised in. His father had valued it after all, enough to want to take it as his own. Micheal might not have liked what his father had done but it did raise the country in his opinion to being something that mattered. If Micheal had thought he would be able to get away he would have tried to leave the country entirely, for one where he would not suffer such a conflict of interest.

Sleep came less and less for Micheal as the siege wore on and food started to run short. It was for this reason that he was up on the wall when the attackers made a late night sneak attack on the battlements, using ropes and ladders. The defenders, on watch for long hours because of their short numbers, were less then alert until Micheal raised the alarm. Once the last of the attackers had been fended off by the soldiers, Micheal realized that he had just chosen sides. It lit a fire inside him that had not been there in the past, before he had assumed they would not listen to him, so he hadn't tried speaking to them. With humility he never would have imagined he had, the family signet ring on his finger for the first time since their coat of arms was removed, Micheal approached and bowed before the captain of the guard.

To be continued...

The Traitor's Command

When first Micheal had been sentenced to exile, he had thought that he was cursed to wander the wilderness, he could not imagine a life away from court. Of course he had been young then, now he was older and better suited to his fate. Though he still cursed his traitorous father out of habit, Micheal had come accept that for him, the court would always be a thing of the past. It was a thing of half dreams for him now anyway, something he had not seen for a decade. He wouldn't be allowed at court now anyway, all of their lands and titles had become forfeit the moment that his father had been sentenced to death.

Exile was not as bad as it had sounded when Micheal had first heard it, a shaking boy, dragged before the king. He had taken the remains of their fortune, what he had been able to grab before having to leave his lands forever, and simply gone into the neighboring kingdom. It wasn't a capital like the one that he had grown up in, but it was still a reasonably sized town that he lived in, not the wilderness that he had imagined when he was fourteen. While he could no longer live as a noble he didn't have to work thanks to the money he had brought, and he spent his life in idleness, walking where he could and dreaming of how things had been in the past.

It was not the sport that Micheal missed, he had been a poor hunter and wrestler, in fact he was in better shape now that he went on his walks than he had ever been when a child. Instead he missed the texts that had been passed around the court in manuscript form and read aloud. Micheal knew that those were lost to him forever, the only way he would ever see a book again was to become a man of the church but he suspected it was sacrilege to join the cloth only to be able to read. Having been raised to be religious Micheal felt that one should only join the clergy if it was for a selfless desire to serve God.

Everything Micheal thought of to do with his time was dismissed in this fashion. He thought about opening a shop and starting a family, but it seemed like admitting that he was no longer a noble and even with all titles gone he could not bring himself to do so. He thought about joining a guild, but fraternizing with people of such lower upbringing seemed unlikely to give him pleasure. Micheal gained a reputation around the town for being aloof and mysterious, silent and withdrawn. He did nothing to change this opinion, enjoying his time alone with his thoughts.

Sometimes Micheal pictured in his mind the plans of his father, the maps with the pictures of what he would do in battle, battles that never happened, with troops that never came. Micheal had never taken a constructive role in these plots, he had been too young, a fact that had in the end saved his life. Other times Micheal daydreamed of an old servant of his father coming to serve him, or some noble of this country finding him and taking him in. No one came though and Micheal had, despite his dreams, decided that he would die in obscurity with no one to even befriend.

Micheal was twenty-four when the war between the kingdoms erupted. It was not just between his new home and his old, had this been the case he would have simply left for a new one, he had no attachment to his adopted state. Instead however war was like a fire that covered every country Micheal had ever heard of and it was everyone against everyone else. The lord who controlled the land of the town sent soldiers to drag men from their homes to fight but every time they came from Micheal he gave them some money and they left him alone. The people of the town just thought him to be one of the lucky ones who had been spared because they needed hands to work.

To be continued...

No this blog is not dead

I'm very sorry, school took over my life the last few months, now that it is over I will be writing again every day. I will not be continuing the story I stopped in the middle of for now though. I might get back to it someday, indeed I intend to rewrite it so that it makes a lot more sense, but it has been too long for now. I have lost the thread of the story completely. Instead I will be starting a new story. Again, I am sorry.