1930s Chicago. Notorious gangster Tom "Tommy Gun" Holland has been storming his way through Cook County, robbing banks and breaking hearts. One day you find yourself in the wrong place, at the wrong time when he makes a hit on your bank. There's...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Tommy, what's that?" you said, nodding at the line of people along the side of the road.
Tommy slowed the car as you approached. His brow slowly furrowed as his eyes drifted over each and every one of them. It looked to be like some sort of caravan. There were children, ranging from toddlers to teens, mothers carrying some of those children, and men with haunted looks in their eyes. Their clothes looked like they'd haven't been washed in ages. Each person was burdened with a load, some looked like sacks of clothes. The one gentleman had an assortment of pots and pans strapped to his back. None of them looked liked they'd seen a decent meal in days, except for the one infant that clung to his mother's breast while she nursed him. She rested her chin on his head lovingly.
Tommy said he saw this before - families migrating to the cities in hopes of finding some sort of work, any work, some income to fill their bellies. They abandoned their homes in a desperate search for livelihood, even if it meant walking for miles and sleeping in the dirt. But even the cities were becoming clogged with Okies. Jobs were already scarce as it is, but there was a blight over the plains, a Dust Bowl they called it. Farmers lost everything. Their livestock starved. Their families fairing not much better. Some say it was an act of God, another disaster like the flood to weed out the wicked. But these poor people didn't appear wicked. They appeared hopeless and dejected, yet they carried on, making the only choice they could - leave their misery and pray something better awaited for them in the cities. Suppose anything is better than the hell they been living in.
"Grab the bag," Tommy said, stopping the car. He climbed out to join the group. You reached behind you and grabbed his rucksack. You stood by the car, hugging the bag to your chest. You watched Tommy approach the first man. He shook his hand and clapped him on the shoulder. You couldn't hear what he said, but his smile was something you'd never seen before. It was genuine and sympathetic. His eyes held a benevolence to them, something so far removed from your handsome devil, you thought maybe you were watching an imposter.
Tommy made his way down the line, shaking hands, ruffling the hair of some of the children. He even took the infant from the nursing mother and bounced him in his arms. She gave a weak and tired smile. You felt that ache in your heart again. Only this time, it was coupled with something else in your gut, a longing that was new. The way he held that baby made you feel like you wanted to give him one of his own.
He looked over at you and flashed a heartfelt smile your way. Your stomach filled with all sorts of critters. The smile you returned surely said everything you were feeling. Tommy glanced down at the baby, then back at you and shrugged with an even broader smile. He nestled the baby back into his mother's arms and motioned for you to come over.
You smiled and introduced yourself and did your best to hold your tears back. It was all so heartrending. They were skin and bones, especially the children. Their shoes were falling apart, their lives were falling apart, yet they were still polite and smiled at you.
Tommy reached in the bag and retrieved the stacks of cash. He handed them out to everyone, murmuring encouragements to them,
"Get yourself a hot meal," he said. "Buy your little one some shoes." "Use this to rest somewhere for the night."
Each and every soul he spoke to in a hushed tone. They thanked him with tears and hugs. One old fellow even kissed him on the lips, he was so overjoyed. Tommy looked like he was going to wet himself. Laughter spread throughout the group at that and he finally joined in, wiping his mouth and wagging a scolding finger at the man.
"Careful- my girlfriend gets jealous," he joked, sliding an arm around your waist.
"You're him, aren't you? The one from the paper?" another fellow asked.
Tommy seemed more embarrassed than anything by the question. He looked down at his feet and opened his mouth to respond.
"I am, but I'm not -" Then his head whipped back in the direction of the car. You looked at him questioningly and were about to say something when you heard it too. Sirens.
"Go!" he said to you and you raced back to the car. "Go!" he shouted at everyone before following you. They just stood there, confused.
Tommy reached into the backseat and retrieved his tommy gun with such swiftness, he looked like a blur.
You jumped in the driver's seat and started the car, putting it into gear. The sirens got louder behind you. Three vehicles it was.
In the rear view mirror, you saw Tommy standing in the middle of the road, his feet firmly planted. He sprayed the incoming vehicles with bullets, getting one of their tires. One car swerved to a stop and blocked the other two from the road. More gun fire was exchanged. The Okies screamed and cowered together.
You stuck your head outside and Tommy was running back to you. You leaned over and flew the door open. He jumped in shouting.
"Drive!"
You peeled away, passing all the terrified faces. One little girl waved at you with the biggest smile. Your eyes drifted back to the mirror. The other coppers managed to get their vehicles around the stalled one.
"Tommy," you nodded behind you. He turned around, panting.
"Shit," he grumbled, "Faster, Di."
But then something miraculous happened. The crowd of migrants filtered into the street, blocking the cars. The coppers shouted at them to move, but they didn't budge. They formed a barrier to give their benefactor more time.
"Unbelievable," you said in awe. You couldn't even see the cars, just the backs of people whose resolve was worth more than any sack of money.
"Take the highway," Tommy lifted a shaky finger to the window. You followed his finger back to his face. He was drenched in sweat and clenching his jaw. His face was washed of any color and he hugged himself with his other arm. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he had a fever.
"Tommy?" you reached out with one hand and grabbed his chin tenderly. He took another breath and squeezed his eyes shut.
"You ever play Doctor, dollface?" he asked with a slight chuckle but it immediately turned into a groan of pain. He relaxed his hugging arm finally and pull his hand away from inside his jacket. Blood covered the entire hand. His shirt was soaked right through.
"Because I'm going to need you to take this bullet out."
