Rock Hands

By Gene Thomas

“Rock Hands” is a powerfully moving piece of a man’s journey set in the late depression era American, where Gerald Williams competes in the rough and tumble world of illegally staged bare-knuckle fighting. Success in the ring has bought Gerald wealth, pain, and two sisters fighting for his love. All set against the backdrop of a small town forced into hosting the bare-knuckle “Fight of the Century”.

Gene Thomas has done it again! With an epic tale spanning generations, he has taken us on an amazing journey. The characters in Rock Hands will pull you into their world and make you want to stay. A novel full of life, love and family that will keep you turning the pages way into the night. A fight for survival, literally and figuratively, Rock Hands will be one of the best novels you read this year. I highly recommend this novel! You will not be disappointed!

Review by Jason Sinner
5 stars all the way!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gene Thomas
• Release date: May 25, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370660421

Gene Thomas

About the Author Gene Thomas has had several major careers. His first career was in air traffic control. Another was a Defense Contractor during the Reagan era. After a career in Education and extensive travels to different countries, Gene now devotes the majority of his time to pursuing his first love, writing. You will find that Gene’s writing style has always been characterized an easy read. His books in print (Amazon, Barnes & Noble) “Tales from the Tree House, 2010”, “Tree House to Palm Trees, 2011” mark the start of a prolific writing career that includes a collection of short stories, poems and novels already posted on sites like http://www.readwave.com/doceft/ . “Rock Hands” – a Depression Era saga reminiscent of John Steinbeck will be coming out later this year. The rights to that book are currently under contract with Quattro Media Publications. Gene has finished six 26 mile marathons and thousands of shorter races and still maintains an active exercise routine that includes walking no less than four miles a day. Gene currently lives in Belize, Central America, but was born in Brooklyn New York.

Book preview

Rock Hands

Gerald’s Gift and Curse

(The Beginning)

A novel by Gene Thomas

Copyright © Statement

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including recording, photocopying, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher.

Fiction Statement

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published by Gene Thomas

Smashwords Edition

Review by Jason Sinner

5 stars all the way!

Gene Thomas has done it again! With an epic tale spanning generations, he has taken us on an amazing journey. The characters in Rock Hands will pull you into their world and make you want to stay. A novel full of life, love and family that will keep you turning the pages way into the night. A fight for survival, literally and figuratively, Rock Hands will be one of the best novels you read this year. I highly recommend this novel! You will not be disappointed!

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Prologue

About the Author

Back to Top

Chapter One

Somewhere in the Past there was…

"Sure is cold tonight." The old man muttered to himself. Jamaica Avenue was cold and blustery as the old man surveyed the scene from behind his newspaper stand. There were still a few trains loaded with commuters left to arrive, and on them, there would be a few of the old man’s steady customers.

In the latter days after the war, a few extra dollars went a long way, especially if selling papers and a few candy bars was all you could do. So he sat, an old man murmuring to himself about the cold, his sore back, and on occasion, stories of the past and his youth.

You can’t beat T.T., Val said, squinting over at the small stocky man seated on the stool across the ring from Gerald. Look at you. Your eye is half closed. I bet you can’t even see me starin’ here not a foot from your messed up face. Val continued, as if to emphasize the futility of continuing the fight any further.

Gerald Williams was not a fighter by choice. It was his ability to hit another man so hard that only one or two punches at most rendered most men unconscious.

But these were hard times and real jobs earning an honest day’s pay for using what was inside your head were non-existent. Gerald found out early in life that his one gift kept him and his family fed and clothed – most of the time.

As he got older, Gerald’s family, mom, sister Alma, brothers George, David and Val, were whittled down to just him and Val. Too many years of poor food and shelter took mom and Alma. Mom died sitting at the door to the family’s one room shack – frozen to death. Alma left a few days later, and was never seen again. She was 13.

George, the oldest boy, was arrested stealing food from one of the few grocery stores still running in the neighborhood. No one knew when, or if, George would ever return home from prison. Gerald and Val had nearly forgotten how long it had been since they had even seen him.

David, the baby of the family, found time to write short stories, and even at the tender age of 12, someone read his work, realized he had talent and carted him off to some fancy school in the south to hone his skills. At the time, everyone thought it was a good thing, David would get training and the family wound up feeding one fewer mouth.

The bell to start the next round sounded, jarring Gerald back to the present. Tyrone Stevens stood up from his stool and staggered out to the center of the ring to meet Gerald. He had been rocked by two left hooks that Gerald connected against him, just before the last round ended.

Stay away from him – dance, if you want to survive another round, shouted T.T.’s handler. Good advice, but too late to do T.T. any real good. Gerald had seen T.T.’s knees buckle at the end of the last round and knew it would only take one or two more good shots to finish him off.

Suddenly, it was over.

Gerald was staring down at T.T.’s motionless body. He didn’t even remember throwing the punch that T.T. never saw. But that was the way it always seemed to end; boys, and later men, lying on the ground, unconscious, after Gerald’s right hand slipped in against their face.

I didn’t think ya had it in ya, Val said, gushing with satisfaction as he rushed over to Gerald, still standing over T.T. What’s the matter with him? Look at his leg! Val was now concerned. T.T.’s eyes had rolled back in his head, and his left leg was twitching involuntarily.

Gerald knew what was happening, he’d seen this before. T.T. had not only lost consciousness, he was slowly losing his life.

A few minutes of anguished cries from T.T.’s corner man confirmed Gerald’s fears, T.T. was going on a journey he would never return from. It wasn’t often, but Gerald had sent other men, and boys, on that journey.

It was never his choice to do so, but once Gerald struck a solid blow to a man’s head with his right hand, there was little chance that person would ever come back from the journey – intact or otherwise.

Let’s get the money and get outta here before someone calls the cops, Gerald said, realizing what was next. Most of the time, illegal street fights would be stopped, or the local beat cop would be paid to look the other way, but not this time.

Gerald and Val took this fight on short notice and in a town Gerald had never fought in before. Here’s your money, kid. I hope T.T. comes to, for your sake. If he doesn’t, you better start watchin’ your back.

The man holding the pot was the usual street promoter; short, smelly, and always it seemed, wearing the cheapest suit he could find.

As he threw Gerald’s prize money at him, the promoter continued, T.T. comes from a large family and they take care of their own. Usually they only break a leg or bust a knuckle or two, just enough to send a message. But Lord help you if T.T. doesn’t make it. One of his people will follow you to the ends of the earth to even the score. If you didn’t know it before you fought this guy, you should know now that he is one of the ‘Family’.

What or who is the ‘Family’? Val asked nervously.

Thanks for the heads up, Gerald said, cutting his younger brother off and motioning him towards the door of the warehouse. We know what to expect from people who lose fights to me. If we can’t catch the last train out of town, we’ll have to lie low for a while.

‘For a while’ became six months. T.T. died on the floor of the warehouse, just where Gerald left him. Unfortunately for the two brothers, the train was long gone when they got to the station. T.T.’s family had a contract out for Gerald and Val the very next day.

Chapter Two

A Family light gets snuffed out.

Loneliness was sometimes unbearable for the old man. Occasionally, flashes of family members and old flames came flooding back to him all at once. Some were dead, others he couldn’t begin to know their whereabouts. Those whose lives created so many happy memories for him were harder to chase away –especially when he finally settled down for the night in the broken down hovel he now called home.

Do you think they’re still looking for us, Gerald? Val said, apprehensively as they turned the corner to the alley up the street from the old warehouse they had been holed up in.

How would I know? Gerald snapped back. I don’t have any contacts in this town except that bum of a promoter that hooked us up with that fight. I sure as Hell don’t want to go see him; he’d probably sell us out for any bounty that’s on our head.

The two brothers moved quickly up the alley towards the warehouse, unaware of several sets of eyes peering at them through the darkness. Most of those eyes belonged to people who, for various reasons, were in hiding themselves.

The last thing they wanted to do was reveal themselves to anyone and risk being discovered. But there was one set of eyes following the two brothers that had no reason to hide.

In fact, these eyes belonged to someone who very much wanted to be discovered and to be associated with the discovery of the two shadowy figures disappearing through a hole in the fence that surrounded the warehouse.

The recent downturn in the economy had forced the warehouse to close for good. The things that used to be stored there were no longer being made, so the cavernous building with its many vacant stalls, floors, and rooms had become home to over a hundred desperate people for the last few months.

Many who huddled in the darkness of the old building were simply trying to stay warm. Where they felt no one would see them, several brave souls lit fires to drive away the cold.

But there were many, many others who would rather huddle in the cold, dark corners of the warehouse undetected than chance discovery by the light of a fire. Gerald and Val fit the latter category.

So each day, when they couldn’t fight off the hunger any longer, Gerald or Val would venture out to buy a small amount of food. They knew having a store of food in that warehouse would invite unwanted guests, both two and four-legged.

Some of the other ‘tenants’ actually relied on the four legged ‘guests’ for nourishment. Gerald and Val hadn’t gotten to that point, but if they had to stay holed up in the warehouse much longer, that option might start to look pretty good.

I met a guy today who knows where we can get a fight. It’s down by the railroad yard and we can pick the time when we want the fight to start, Val gushed to Gerald one day when he got back from a food run.

Are you crazy? Gerald said, snatching the roll of baloney from Val’s arm, slicing a huge chunk of it, and chewing heartily. His brother had been gone most of the day, and Gerald was already hungry when Val left.

The guy you were talking to probably figured out who you were and is setting a trap for us. The only fight we’ll have if we show up at the railroad yard is for our lives.

No, it’s not like that. I checked the guy out. I followed him around most of the day before I said anything to him. Val said. He’s got shifty eyes and all, but he only talked to some guys in a barber shop for a few minutes before I said anything to him. I heard him talking about fighting when I was in the store getting the baloney. He was talking about how street fighting had dropped off since that guy you killed – sorry beat.

Val was flustered now. He knew he had not seen enough of the guy to be completely sure the guy didn’t have contacts with the ‘Family’ and was setting them both up. He says there’s a lot of money built up for betting on the next fight – big money. If we could get a fight with one of the locals, we could make enough to, to—

To be killed. You idiot, did you check to see if you were followed back here? Gerald said, cutting his brother off and rushing to the side of the broken down door they used to cover the stall they had been occupying for the last few weeks.

So far, Gerald, at least, had been careful to circle inside the warehouse several times before he actually approached their spot. He wasn’t so sure Val had been as careful. Now that Val was talking to outsiders, Gerald grew nervous about how long they could stay undiscovered. His fears were well-founded.

As Gerald stuck his head outside to look down the darkened corridor, he thought he saw a shadowy figure pull back around the nearest corner. He couldn’t be sure it wasn’t one of the other ‘tenants’, but given his brother’s statements, it was odds on he had been followed and plans were being made to come collect on that contract on their lives.

We have to leave here right away. I think I saw someone in the corridor spying on us, Gerald said, pulling his head back inside and moving to collect their meager belongings.

I’m tellin’ you, no one followed me back here. Val said, almost pleading now. You’re just jittery about another fight. I know how you get when you know you’re gonna fight again.

Gerald stopped and turned to his smaller brother. "Look, don’t you see all that talk about big money was just a ploy to lure us out of hiding, and that guy is the only one looking for a big payday when he turns us over. Damn, what the hell were you thinking? We gotta get outta here - and fast, you hear me?"

Val suddenly began to sense his brother’s urgency. Even if things were on the up and up with that guy, neither one of them could take the chance. At the very least, they needed to find another place to hide.

The warehouse, with all its rooms and corners, was no longer safe if the ‘Family’ knew there was a possibility they could find the two men inside.

What they didn’t know and would never find out was the patriarch of the ‘Family’ used to run the loading dock of that very warehouse.

That night, the two brothers took turns sleeping in doorways of old houses near the warehouse. During the night, they did indeed hear loud noises coming from the warehouse. The ‘Family’ and their accomplices raided the warehouse looking for the two men. The spy, who had been talking to Val, was among the crowd of men going room to room searching in vain.

A few hours later, the brothers heard a single shot ring out from inside the warehouse. They had no way of knowing, but Gerald surmised the spy had gotten his reward.

The next day, Gerald and his brother found an old house, not far from the warehouse that was occupied by an old lady who had dozens of cats. She agreed to let them stay there for a week in exchange for some chores around the house.

Gerald didn’t mind cleaning up after all those cats and the old woman. At least, he thought, it was a roof over their heads until they could line up a fight and get the hell out of town.

Just when they thought it was safe to start fighting again, Gerald made a grisly discovery returning home from a food run.

Val’s body was stuffed between the steps of a stairwell outside the old warehouse where they had been hiding. The motion of the arm swinging in the breeze caught Gerald’s eye as he hurried past the steps. What made him stop in his tracks was the slight glitter of the button on the arm of the jacket the victim wore.

Gerald recognized it as a brass button on the only coat Val had, a worn-out army coat that Val had taken from an old man many years ago. When he first got it, the coat was too big for him. But over the years, Val had grown enough to where the coat almost fit. But the sleeves were still too long.

As he moved closer to his brother’s lifeless body, Gerald could see that Val had been beaten, and later, after he died, his body had been mutilated. Val’s eyes had been gouged out, and Gerald could see that Val’s jaw had been broken in several places. Someone must have given him a good going over with a pipe, Gerald thought.

Gerald knew what kind of marks a fist would leave on a man’s face. He had inflicted wounds on many men’s faces, so he knew from experience that the gashes and protrusions of bone and flesh had to come from a blunt force instrument of some kind.

Gerald could only hope Val had been long dead when the mutilation began. Gerald suddenly felt numb and alone as he touched his brother’s bloody hair, and then, his arm.

Gerald bent over and tenderly kissed his brother goodbye. He had no money to bury Val, and any attempt to do so would call attention to himself, and wind up with both of them going into the same grave.

Apparently T.T.’s family had found Val and had killed him as an accomplice to T.T.’s death. Or was it a grisly message to Gerald saying, ‘You’re next’? Val’s body was left on a path Gerald would have normally taken to get back to where the two men were staying.

Gerald didn’t know which it was, but he wasn’t going to hang around to find out. He gathered his things and left the city that night using the only means of transportation he had - his thumb.

Chapter Three

Who could have known what I let in...

Ah, the smell of a woman. Sometimes in the early spring, a young, perfumed woman would stop at the old man’s newsstand and buy something. Long ago, the old man had trained himself not to stare, only to subtly edge closer to her scent without intruding into her space. Occasionally, the scent of a customer reminded him of the first time he inhaled the raw, musky fermions that seemed to encircle Joy the first time they met…

Get in. You look harmless enough, the woman said to Gerald as she held the passenger-side door open. Where ya headed? she asked, as Gerald slipped into the seat next to her and closed the door.

Away from here, Gerald replied as he squinted over at the driver. How far you goin’? he said.

I’m on my way to see my sister, the woman replied. She lives about 800 miles from here.

That ought to be just about right, Gerald said, settling back into the seat of the beat up old car.

What’s your name? he asked, casually. Joy. What’s yours?

Gerald. Is she the only family you got?"

No. I have two nephews, an uncle and a brother-in-law, Joy answered, looking at Gerald out of the corner of her eye. Not bad, must be a railroad guy or a sailor, she thought.

What’s this up ahead? Joy said out loud, more to herself than to her new passenger. Looks like a road block. The cops have been looking for somebody all day. Could that somebody be you, by any chance? Joy said suspiciously.

If you mean are people looking for me, the answer is yes. But the last time I checked, it wasn’t the cops, Gerald shot back, sitting up, and staring intently at the approaching road block.

I hear tell the cops are looking for a street fighter that killed a guy back a few months ago. You know anything about that? Joy said, growing uneasy with the situation she now found herself in. Hey look, if that’s you, I don’t want no trouble. Maybe you should get out now and give yourself up to these guys. After all, they are the cops.

Gerald realized that these ‘cops’ may be connected with T.T.’s people and giving himself up to them would be the same as giving himself up to the ‘Family’ as they were known in these parts. That was why he was trying to put some distance between himself and these parts – to stay out of their clutches.

As Joy’s car moved closer to the road block, Gerald could see the figures silhouetted against the headlights of two cars and a truck partially blocking the road were not exactly dressed in the standard police uniform of the day. In fact, some of them weren’t wearing uniforms at all.

They’re not cops, step on the gas and go between the car and the truck. Gerald yelled. What? They look like cops to m— Shut up and drive or you’ll be killed right along with me, Gerald said cutting her off in mid sentence.

Before she knew it, Joy had side swiped the front end of the car blocking the road and narrowly missed one of the three men trying to flag down her car.

As she drove by, Joy heard one of the men shout, "That’s him. He’s in there with that broad. Shoot him. Shoot the tires, hell, shoot something, ya bastard. Whadda think I gave ya the gun for? Shooot!"

The two people in the car didn’t hear the gun fire, but Joy saw the muzzle flash in her side view mirror and knew she was in some serious shit. But she kept her foot mashed down on the pedal and hoped the men wouldn’t follow.

That hope was almost immediately dashed when, as Joy looked out her side view mirror again, she saw all three vehicles lining up in single file as they sped after them. Fortunately, the truck was the lead vehicle and kept the faster cars from gaining on them. All the while, Joy’s foot stayed on the accelerator.

After what seemed like an hour, Joy found her voice, What the hell have you got me into, and who the hell are you? What did you do to have so many people pissed off at you?

Joy’s questions tumbled out one right after another, as fast as she could form them in her mind. But Gerald didn’t hear anything but the roar of the car’s motor and the screeching of the tires as Joy struggled to keep the car on the now very curvy street which led out of town. He was thinking ahead.

There would surely be a search for him and the girl that would last through the night, and by day, if they weren’t far from town, the ‘Family’ would have their descriptions given out to anyone who had a phone. I have to ditch this car – and this broad, he thought. But not before she gets me another few hundred miles from here.

"Hey. Are you listening to me? I’m asking you a question here." Joy’s shrill voice jolted Gerald back to her and the moment.

"No. What did you say? Who am I? I’m the guy that killed the little brother of those guys chasing us. They already killed my little brother and I’m pretty sure they want to do the same to me – if they catch me."

By the way, there’s nothing you or I can say that will get you off the hook. They probably think you’re my woman or something. But it doesn’t matter. You’ll be a witness to murder, so that makes you gone too. Any more questions, or should you now focus all your attention on driving?

Joy was stunned into silence – at least for the moment. Her mind was racing, trying to figure out what she should do next. Her first thought was to find a real cop and get this guy out of her car. But then she thought, what if the cops are part of this ‘Family’ this guy is so worried about?

Steady girl, she thought. I’ll just outrun the people chasing us and get rid of this guy as soon as we’re in the clear. Yeah, that’s it, she thought. But what if he doesn’t want to leave? He’s awful big and he might have other ideas in mind for me.

Another surge of panic washed over her, but as she looked over at her strange passenger, he seemed preoccupied with something and not the least bit interested in her. She calmed down again and remained silent for the next few miles, stealing glances in her side view mirror at the headlights slowly receding in the distance.

I think we’ve outrun them – finally, Joy said, mostly to herself. She was surprised when Gerald answered her. Good. How much gas to you have left? he said. We really can’t afford to stop anywhere in this town.

I filled up just before I picked you up and got into all this trouble, she replied sarcastically. It should get us a few hundred miles from here. What do you propose to do with me once we’re in the clear? "When we’re in the clear, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, keep your foot on the gas and a sharp eye on the road ahead. There may be another roadblock we have to deal with."

Gerald eased back into his seat and pulled his skullcap down to nearly over his eyes, pretending to go to sleep. In reality, he was staring intently at the road ahead and thinking about what he would do with this luscious person sitting next to him. As he slowly lapsed into a semi-awake state, he began to wonder how long it had been since he was with a woman.

Chapter Four

The cover of these books...

Rules. So many times recently the old man remembered and regretted the rules he broke when he was younger. He never cared about the law or the rules people imposed on other people. Over the years he came to regret the broken rules he had imposed on himself.

Rex Griffin was the neighborhood bully and proud of it. Ever since he was five years old, Rex was fighting. He wasn’t a particularly good fighter, he was simply bigger than the people he chose to fight.

He studiously avoided anyone who was even close to him in age or size. Now at 27, Rex was master of all he surveyed – which wasn’t much. The four square block area that he patrolled had long since been decimated by the Depression and the coming war.

Since there were no jobs to be had, most men Rex’s age had moved away, either to join the Army or find a job in some other part of the country.

As soon as he walked into the cafe, Rex spotted Gerald and Joy seated in a booth halfway towards the back, near his favorite hangout.

Rex liked to watch the customers come into the cafe and, if he liked what he saw, he made a play for them. Usually it was to coerce money from whomever he saw. But on occasion, he would force a fight with someone he had sized up as an easy mark.

When he saw Gerald and Joy, he figured he had a two-fer, a girl and a fight where he could impress the girl and later take her to bed.

At the very least, if the guy didn’t fight, he would get what little cash they had and chase them off.

Hey there, sweetie. What ya doin’ with that loser? Rex shouted from the next booth as he settled in. Joy and Gerald ignored him.

What’s the matter? Can’t you hear me? Rex raised his voice. I know. I’ll get closer. With that, Rex left his booth, came over and slid into the seat across from the couple.

Leave us if you know what’s good for you, Joy growled, not sure of what Gerald’s reaction would be. Gerald had already sized up Rex the moment he entered the cafe.

Bullies, Gerald thought to himself. You might as well put a sign on their head advertising their disposition.

As he slid into the seat across from the couple, Rex had taken similar stock of Gerald.

Unfortunately for Rex, Gerald was more adept at measuring a man; simply because he had to in order to determine how much energy it would take to defeat him in a fight.

But Rex had no way of knowing that. He simply saw Gerald’s ill-fitting clothes and gaunt face as just another drifter who happened to have a cute babe on his arm.

Okay, loser, buzz off. Me and sweetie here have things to talk about, Rex said as he leaned over at Gerald wearing his best scowl.

"Actually, I think you should be the one to buzz off – sweetie!" Gerald said, his own scowl catching Rex by surprise.

So you’re gonna play hero for sweetie over here, ey? Rex replied cautiously. He was indeed surprised by Gerald’s response, and much to her surprise – and pleasure, so was Joy.

Gerald