ch. 5

It felt good to be out. Johnny had grown tired of the smell of death that filled the halls of the hospital. Johnny experimented with a new found sense of smell, the tar of the recently patched street, the tainting smell of disinfectant on his clothes. The breeze brought a faint smell of gasoline, a whiff of garbage and the cloying smell of earth. As he reveled in the story each scent seemed to tell, he passed a dumpster and promptly closed the book on the plot line emerging from it.

I've never felt so alive! Johnny thought. He was aware of ever sensation related to his body, the trickle of sweat inching down his back, the very feel of the clothes on his back, yet he did not feel overwhelmed. Like phasing out the drunken tirades of his uncle, he simply pushed everything back to a subconscious level but able to recall it at a moments notice.


Johnny had simply been walking, taking things in but he found his feet had led him to his old stomping grounds. Turning off the main road, he entered the grid like side streets filled with warehouses and metal shops. Corrugated steel and rust were the dominant architecture styling ques, from auto body shops to furniture stock buildings.


In the past, Johnny had made it a habit to double back, or loiter for a few moments at a corner to be sure he was followed or set up for an ambush, but tonight he felt a surge of confidence and relief. He ran through his mind all that he had seen in the past few minutes, every minute detail examined in surreal clarity mid step and he knew he was alone.


He approached the back lot of Alger's Body Shop, walking in the alley between the adjacent building and stopped at the coke machine that shed it's dim, yellow glow into the night. The light shined more brightly through the cracks in the plastic display, winking as he came closer. The whole machine seemed to glow with it's own life, drawing the eye to it's faded advertisements for soda's no longer in production but it eye catching antics were useful past it's designers intentions. Situated about a foot from the beginning of the chain link fence that enclosed the lot behind the shop, the vending machine blocked a small gap between the building and the fence. The gap could only be seen when directly in front of it, an odd angle with the alley dead ending into a cement block addition to the other building. With ease learned from repetition, Johnny squeezed through the gap and entered the lot, going to the back of the shop. He unlocked the door next to the large bay entry with a single key fished from his pocket. No longer jingling against the ignition and door key to his car, Johnny felt a pang of loss for his Camaro.

He entered a pitifully small room that had been converted from a bathroom to a tiny living space. The edge of the bed jutted against the side of the toilet, with a foot of space between the bed and the wall, a minnie fridge doubled as a nightstand in the far corner...well...as far as it could be. This had been Johnny's home for the past eighteen months.

When Johnny decided to satisfy his lust for speed by building his own car instead of stealing others, he began asking around fro someone with a shop who wasn't very scrupulous about where parts came from. He was told by some of his more shady business associates about a less shady associate, Dan Alger. When dealing with the less than honest, Johnny had found that a little research went a long way. His best resource came from the beginning of his journey to the dark side. During his first stay in Juvy Johnny had met Stephen Crump, the son of a successful lawyer much feared courts of downtown Houston. Both he and Stephen were the same age and sat next to each other while being processed at the detention center.

Once again, Johny was surprised by the clarity of his memories. The hard plastic chairs with their metal legs, screeching in protest at the slightest movement, scratched countless times with gang slogans, rival gang responses and empty promises of deviant sexual favors. The officers and secretaries eyes were as dull and bland as the walls that seemed to lean in to accentuate the fact that it was holding them all in. One could determine the length of time spent in the place by the emptiness of peoples eyes, the most vacant being those who slaved away scores of overtime to help bolster scanty paychecks. With all the redundancy built into the system, there was more than enough overtime to go around.

Johnny had picked Stephen out as a victim at first glance. His eyes flicked nervously around the room, careful to make no eye contact, but fearful of some unseen threat. Johnny recognized it, having been a victim most his life, never among his peers, always to his superiors. The ire of every adult in Johnny's life had been irked by his nonchalance and "lack of initiative despite promising abilities" as numerous report cards proclaimed throughout his child hood. No amount of cajoling, threatening or promises of rewards could inspire Johnny to apply himself, an untapped resource that was the bane of every educators existence. All of Johnny's mind was applied to finding the path of least resistance, never realizing the irony of working so hard to work less. In Stephen, Johnny saw the physical form of his emotional and mental position, immediately defensive on his behalf and unthinkingly protective over him.

Johnny took the seat next to Stephen, knowing that he himself was put in the cross hairs by doing so. Having been situated as far from his neighbor as possible while staying in his seat, Stephen now strove mightily to find the exact middle of his seat, trying desperately to remain invisible in the open room. (tbc. Johnny saves Stephen from a beating.)

Johnny and Stephen stayed in contact with each other in the years following Stephen's early release. It helps having a lawyer for a father, even if he was a prosecutor. Stephen Crump straightened out after his short stay in jail, more from his fear of his father's anger than any feared recrimination from the judicial system, and now worked for the city's leading District Attorney. Although he kept clean, Stephen still yearned for tastes of the lawless side of life, which was why he had followed his fathers footsteps into criminal law and why he often helped Johnny in his background checks, giving him information on anyone he wanted and in at depth that would make a private investigator drool...and all for free. It gave Stephen the thrill "living on the edge" and it had saved johnny from making unwise and potentially dangerous decisions on numerous occasions.

The information scraped together on Daniel Hubert Alger revealed a alleged, but yet to be proven, connection to small time racketeering business. While under some scrutiny from law enforcement, Alger's retained an honest facade and still had a clean record. This fit perfectly into Johnny's plans but made it a little more difficult to make the connection a reality. Johnny decided to run the safer, albeit longer, method and applied to work in Dan's shop. He was hired as a detailer and after his obvious skills were noticed, a mechanic. Dan, wary at first, warmed considerably after he learned a bit about Johnny's childhood. Dan's marriage was childless and Johnny became the son he didn't have. He gave Johnny a booth in the back to keep whatever he was driving and charged him a minuscule amount for the converted space behind the office. After almost a year of working at the shop, Dan approached Johnny and asked for his help in something, refusing to answer specifics until after work.

Johnny could hardly keep from laughing when Alger asked him to drive a truck full of washing machines to a small town a few hours away. They were obviously stolen, but with few ways to track them and no Appliance Theft Ring Task force in the works, it was a painfully low risk situation. Dan had guessed that Johnny was involved in some to degree in crime, but had no clue the extent. Johnny didn't bother to tell him that he had stolen cars with rims and tires worth more than the truck and it's cargo combined before he was fifteen, he just grinned and said, "Sure!"

After that and several other successful ventures involving Johnny, Alger began to trust Johnny with more and more. Johnny was naturally sharp and with his few, but valuable connections, he quickly became something of Dan Alger's protege. With a little planning, encouragement and youthful enthusiasm from Johnny, Dan more than doubled his under the table profits and halved the inquiries made by the police.

By the time Johnny had the wreck, Alger had all but handed over all the illegal activities done in his name to Johnny, while retaining well over three quarters of the the profit. Johnny didn't mind the obvious imbalance, his life was his cars. When he wasn't working on them, he was sleeping and dreaming about them and when he wasn't doing either, he was driving them. Johnny hadn't stolen a car in a year but practiced his prized and hard won skills on cars in the back lot of the Alger's body shop just to stay sharp. Things had been going good. Too good it would seem.

Now everything was different. Everything had changed, but Johnny was too tired to think. He promptly sprawled out on his little bed and fell instantly to sleep.