Stick-Up Kids: Thrive or Die

Jackie was on break at the store, another gloomy day. He smoked, free hand in his jacket pocket, leaning next to the wall outside. He was the only man at the store that evening. He could in theory close at any time, but he would rather not hear more bitching from his favorite boss. The cold lonely weather echoed the mood from the man, as he dreaded the holiday season. Consumerism at its finest, nothing but take, buy. Distractions from reality. A reality Jackie can’t escape ever since coming home.

He flicked the butt into the little puddle from the rain the other night and walked into the store, ready as he’ll ever be to work. Days were growing shorter, nights were as common as seeing the cold air. A sign of things to come. Jackie looked out as the hours passed, the evening changed rather quickly. The stars were out, the ambiance of cars slowed to just crickets and the stray dogs barking. Almost time to close. That is, until one more customer showed up. The door chimed, signalling to Jackie, who was reading a book, to look up as the masked stranger walked up to him and pointed a pistol at him. “Imma need everything you got in the register, now!”

The man, (or kid, he sounded rather young) was skinny and had a nervous twitch to him possibly due to adrenaline. He was light-skinned, brown eyes, and the rest was covered with a ski mask, allowing no further analysis. Jackie remained calm as he looked at the way he held the pistol, which was a Glock. It was shaking, which explained the twitch. Has he ever fired a gun before? Does he understand the consequences of taking a life? Not just legally, but morally? The robber jerked his gun closer. “You fucking crazy? Money, nigga!”

Jackie calmly opened the register, and began bagging the money, taking glances at his robber. His eyes were too focused on the door instead of him. He had such a weak grip on the gun, it could be easy to disarm…

Jackie decided against it. He would rather not save this shitty store. He won’t kill a man for property he doesn’t even own. He knew the kid wouldn’t pull the trigger. He’d sooner piss himself. Plus, there’s only $280 in the register anyway. He hoped the kid had a great time with it. He handed him the bag, and the robber ran off immediately. With a sigh, Jackie called the police, as he had to.

NYPD’s finest came by to do what they do best: Walk, ask redundant questions, shrug their shoulders, leave, and collect a paycheck. Jackie provided no help to the cops, just saying “I don’t know, it happened fast. Couldn’t get that much of a look at him,” And move on.

A robbery is nothing special, especially if nobody dies, but he needed a few days off anyway, so he called his boss after the cops left.

“Jackie? It’s late,” The boss said with a grunt.

“We got robbed,” Jackie responded bluntly.

The boss' voice perked up. “Robbed?! How much did they take?”

“$280.”

“$280?!”

Jackie sighed. “Literally what I said.”

“Aren’t you a war vet? You didn’t try and stop him or something?”

“He had a gun, sir. And last time I checked, training said that I’m not allowed to do that.”

The boss grumbled. “...Well. You can come in tomorrow?”

“I got a gun pulled on me, and you want me to just put that aside the next day?”

“Aren’t you used to that?”

Jackie remained silent, but the sense of anger was noticeable.

“Fine,” The boss said. “I can only give you three days off.”

“Good.”

“Mhm.” The boss hung up, leaving Jackie alone to close the store and leave.

As he did the usual commute home, Jackie thought back to the kid. That scared look in his eye. The fear of…something. That was his last option, clearly. Jackie was lucky, however. He could’ve ended up in a grave if he dealt with anyone else who had the stones to take a life.

He crashed at Tiffany’s that night. They rested in her bed. Her hand in his hair, brushing past them with soft reassurance after he relayed the story.

“I’m sorry,” Tiffany said. “You can crash here, if you want to.”

“You sure?” Jackie asked, eyes peering up. “I hate to be a bother…”

“Me and Rose talked. It’s fine. She doesn’t hate you, promise. She’s just really shy.”

Jackie nodded, sinking back back into her soft embrace. He could feel the warmth, something he wished he could capture in a bottle. He sighed, close to sleeping.

Tiffany did say one more thing. “Were you armed?”

“No,” Jackie said as he yawned.

“You should protect yourself, silly.”

Jackie hummed. “I know. I just thought I would be lucky enough to go without iron for a little while. It’s pretty expensive to get a good piece. But I know a guy. I’ll see him tomorrow.”

“Great,” Tiffany said with a sigh of relief. She kissed his forehead, then turned off the lamp light, plunging the room into darkness as they fell asleep.

Morning hit.

Jackie, without his shitty green work polo, was leaving Tiffany’s room, as she was still asleep. He glanced up, and saw Rose at the end of the hallway, wearing baggy sweatpants and a sweater with the logo of her old high school. She stared daggers into him. A tense bit of fear and silent confusion laid before the both of them.

“Morning,” Jackie said.

Rose said nothing.

“Your sister said you don’t hate me. That true?”

Rose nodded.

“Be real with me. For one second.”

After a moment, Rose opened her mouth. “I need a favor.”

“Avoiding my question?” Jackie shook his head and looked at her with disappointment, but he knew she wouldn’t budge. “Fine. What?”

She walked over her room for a moment, seeing fading pink for walls before coming back out with a letter, bulging out with something crammed in there. “Can you put this in the mailbox, please?”

Jackie took the letter. It had the address to NYU, and it was labeled for a person named Caleb. No way she could have a boyfriend, right? Maybe he assumed her incorrectly. “Any reason why you can’t?”

“I can’t have eyes on me,” She answered.

“This isn’t anthrax, is it?”

“No.”

“I’m joking, Rose.”

She blinked absentmindedly, then huffed when she got the joke. “Ah.”

Jackie can’t blame her, the public is a big risk in this town. Plus, he could make a detour before his destination. “Sure.”

“And don’t look at the letter–” She stopped herself and cleared her throat. “Thank you.” She ran back to her room, closing the door.

Jackie shrugged to himself, pocketing the bulging letter and walked out into the crisp morning, which showed clear skies. A few days off is just what he needed. First, he had to go to the only place he could reasonably obtain a gun quickly.

The streets were light that morning, so the commute to the post office wasn’t terrible. Once he did that job, he took a train over to the old church where the NBLP did their business. On non meeting days, it was still inhibited by the homeless using the upstairs as shelter. Jackie could hear music bumping as he neared the door. My Girl by The Temptations in particular. Jackie knocked three times, then waited.

Roy answered, first with an annoyed look, then he softened once he saw Jackie. “My favorite white man,” he joked, walking over to shake his hand. “No meeting going on right now. What’s up?”

Jackie looked around. “My store got robbed. I can’t exactly walk around this city…”

“Unprotected?” Roy finished.

“Mhm. I can pay.”

Roy waved the thought away. “Nah. No money here. I won’t be paid for anything the people need.”

They walked into the empty church, The Temptations growing louder. Jackie spoke up. “How do you pay for all the food then?”

Roy hummed. “Can’t tell ya too much. But we move things. No drugs. Never drugs.”

“Makes sense.”

“Jackie, why ain’t you come back?” Roy asked as they walked.

“I…” Jackie sighed out before answering. “I just felt like I wanted to do more. I love the NBLP, you know that. But I felt like I was treating the problem, not preventing it.”

Roy led them to the back. He walked until he reached an old rug. He pulled it off, revealing a door. With a simple pop, the door swung open, showing a path downstairs to a basement. Walking down, a gray door with a lock stood in their way. Roy went to fish for his key.

“I see,” Roy said as he unlocked the door. “I won’t talk your ear off, but you know that any act of rebellion changes the city. I know how it feels. Yeah, I wanna fucking pop Coleson for what he said about me, sure. I can’t, or else I go to jail, and I lose my movement, Not yet at least. I know you can change the city, Jackie. Just come to us when you need something.”

Roy opened the door, revealing an armory. Weapons and ammo stacked to the ceiling. AR-15s, AKs, pistols, shotguns, anything a small militia needs.

Jackie whistled. “Holy shit. This could arm a small army. How could you hide this?”

“The basement ain’t on the records. As you can tell, it’s a bit out the way. Pick what you need.”

Jackie walked around like he was shopping for groceries. He laid his hands on a Glock-19. Looked similar to the one the kid used but a bit more compact. He checked it as a military man would, hearing the satisfying clicks of the weapon. “This.”

“Nice choice,” Roy said as he walked up to him. “It’s untraceable, Just don’t let me see you at no shootout.”

Jackie laughed. “No promises, Roy.”