Buses

By John Sheehan

Jack Sterling can't wait for the bus he is riding to reach his hometown of Middletown. He'd made this same trip before, this was his second bus ride home from the Simmons Correction Facility.

            If he knew what was waiting for him, he might not want to get off the bus. Bad cops, a serial killer, and treason of the worse kind awaited him in his old hometown. Add in an old ex-con, a gorgeous lawyer, an abusive father, and a woman he would fall in love with all add to the drama that will become Jack's life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Sheehan
• Release date: Feb 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393288992

Book preview

Chapter 1

Jack would have been happy to do twice the amount of time if he’d killed the son of a bitch. Instead, he’d gotten three years for turning the fucking rat into a vegetable. Close, but no cigar, he thought. The rat was responsible for him being in this hell twice, he wouldn’t get a third try.

One more stinking gate to pass through and he’d be a free man. The clothes he had on felt snug enough to be uncomfortable. Could it be that the excellent Simmons Correctional Facility cuisine had put a few pounds on him? More likely the hours he spent in the yard lifting weights, to keep the predators away, had added muscle to his frame. An old cracked smoky mirror hanging on the wall told him he wasn’t the same man who entered this fine institution. Three years was a long time, but he looked like he’d been inside much longer. Even he could see his once shining blue eyes were hooded and dull. His face had the look of a beat-down forty-year-old; in reality, he was only thirty-four. None of this mattered, it felt great to be out of his prison grays. The room he sat in uncomfortable was his last stop to freedom. He kept looking at the door leading back into the prison waiting for a guard to tell him to get back in because there had been a mistake. The door didn’t open. The fat, bored guard, protected from various murderers and rapists by a single sheet of plexiglass and seated behind a counter finally called his name and handed him a manila envelope.  Not a word passed between the two. Not so much as a good luck. The envelope contained Jack Sterling’s release papers. He hadn’t been a very good boy inside so there were no parole papers in the envelope. He’d done his full sentence, there were no strings attached to his release. He was free once more.

The guard got off his fat ass and pushed the button that led to Jack’s freedom. He walked out into the sunshine and freezing February air. He tried his best to zipper up the Carhart jacket he’d worn when he came in. He couldn’t do it; it didn’t matter much. He walked down the street to the Greyhound bus stop. He’d made the same walk after his first release six years ago. He had a bus ticket for Middletown, New York in his jacket pocket. Jack knew the drill he’d done the same dance before. The ticket was to his hometown, Middletown, NY, where he’d been arrested. He hoped he wouldn’t be staying in Middletown for long. He hated the place where he’d grown up. There would be no brass bands or parades to celebrate his return. Even the few childhood friends he would want to see were long gone. Like a lot of upstate small cities Middletown had been dying for years. All the manufacturing jobs were long gone. The work was shipped out to places like Viet Nam and Sri Lanka leaving nothing left for Americans but jobs at McDonalds or Walmart. Anyone with any ambition had left Middletown long ago.

His mother was still there, as was his father. His mother knew he was coming. He’d called her a few days before to announce his arrival. She sounded happy, but Jack detected a speck of sadness in her voice. She’d been the only one to ever really give a shit about him. This time, she had taken the three-hour bus ride three times to visit him and celebrate his birthday at Simmons. His mother had never been the warm and fuzzy type like you saw on TV. In her own fashion, though she showed Jack how much she loved him. Jack had inherited the same lack of showing his feelings from her. One thing his mother could do was cook, if she was in the mood. His mouth watered just thinking about the taste of her roast beef and mashed potatoes. When he was a kid if she was in a bad mood the family might have gotten an overcooked hamburger. He sure hoped she was in a good mood when he arrived, he’d waited three years for that roast beef.

The bus rolled in around the time he started to feel the cold. He handed his ticket to the driver and made his way towards the back of the bus. He hated buses. He could almost swear that the same passengers on this bus were the exact same ones who rode this bus the first time he left Simmons. There were two drunks in the rear next to the bathroom. They were passing a paper bag that no doubt contained a bottle of Ripple or other fine wine back and forth. The two would spend the entire trip drinking the cheap wine, talking loud, and taking turns puking in the bathroom. A young washed out and tired looking woman sitting in front of him had one infant in her lap and was trying to control her four-year-old son. Jack didn’t know how long they’d been riding the bus, but the kid looked miserable and was letting all the passengers know about it. At least the young mother was trying to keep the kid quiet.

In the first few rows sat old people. One elderly couple sat holding hands while looking up at the forbidding ugly gray walls of Simmons prison. All the old folks looked lost and forgotten. Jack felt like if he came back on the same bus in ten years the same old people would still be sitting in the same seats, too frightened to get off. An old con Jack had seen many times around the yard, stepped up on the bus, and gave his ticket to the driver. The first thing Jack noticed was the ridiculous hat the old guy was wearing. Jack thought they called the hats, fedoras. It was brown and had a cute little feather attached to the side. He spotted Jack and made his way into the seat next to him. Jack had been living with cons for most of his adult life he didn’t need to be sitting next to one on this bus. Hey man, the bus is half empty. Go find another seat. He said it in a neutral tone.

Sam Paulson, the old con, looked up and in the same neutral tone responded, C’mon man us cons got to stick together.

I don’t know you, old-timer. I’ve seen you around but I don’t know you. You don’t know me. I don’t need another con around me. I’ve had guys like you around me for years now. Jack wasn’t really pissed, only a little annoyed. He could see where the old guy was coming from. In prison, you had to stay with your own kind to survive. This guy looked like he’d been inside for a long time and probably needed a little support.

It’s only a seat man.

Ok, I guess. What’s with the hat?

Beats me, I don’t remember it. It was with my stuff from when I got locked up. It’s been fifteen years. I don’t remember a whole lot about what happened back then.

I thought you were trying to be some kind of hipster.

Sam looked confused for a couple of seconds and asked, what the fuck is a hipster?

Never mind man.

Jack went silent and turned his attention to looking out of the bus window. The bus began to move. Jack whispered to himself, I’ll never come back.

Sam thought his seatmate was talking to him, looking at the same disappearing prison walls, he said, Man we all come back sooner or later.

I wasn’t talking to you. I’m not coming back, I swear.

Sam. Yeah ok man, I’m sorry. Where you headed?

Middletown, you know it?

I’ve passed through it a few times. Mostly to and from the place we just came from. They both smiled. Jack didn’t feel much like talking but could see Sam didn’t feel the same way. Where you headed, Sam?

I don’t really know. My ticket says Goshen, must be the last place I got busted. Shit, it was a long time ago. All I can remember was getting into a fight in some run-down gin mill. The guy was twice my size so I carved him up pretty good. They had me back on the bus to Simmons in no time. I don’t even know why I was there. I might get off somewhere else if I see something interesting. You know, like a bar or something.

Sounds like a plan. I’m Jack, I know you’re Sam, you were kind of a legend inside. Did you really throw a guard off the second tier? Jack put his hand out and they shook.

Yeah, I did it. Stupid, got me an extra five years. The asshole was on my case all the time. I saw him leaning over the rail so I just gave him a little shove. Some punk couldn’t wait to rat me out. I did my own time, never ratted anyone out.

Me too Sam, I took care of myself. Didn’t give a shit about anything and didn’t take any crap from any man.

I heard you were stand-up. Got you some extra time, didn’t it?

Worth every minute. They both smiled again.

The four-year-old kid was now running up and down the aisle yelling and screaming.

You got family in Middletown, Jack?

Some, mostly I’m going to see my mother.

It’s good to have family.

Jack hesitated and said, Depends on the family, I guess.

"How about you Sam, you got any family?

I do have a daughter, haven’t seen her in a long time. Her mother kept her away from me. Probably for the best. Last I heard she was a lawyer of all things. Can you imagine my daughter a freaking lawyer? Between the two of us, we must have spent a lot of time in court. She’s supposed to be pretty good from what I hear. Next time I get busted maybe I’ll give her a call. She might give me a family discount. She’ll probably just hang up on me.

Sorry Sam, but I hate lawyers. My first trial, my mother spent every dime for some shyster. All he did was sit there and listen. Sure, I was guilty, the asshole could have at least put up a fight. Second time I went with legal aid. You know what they say, you get what you pay for. That’s what I got, that and three years in Simmons.

The young mother finally got her son to calm down and take a seat next to her. Jack dozed as the bus traveled down the almost deserted highway. Sam shut up and was taking a nap. All was quiet but for the rhythmic, soothing sound of the bus tires kissing the road. The kid started again before his mother could grab him. Jack smiled at the kid, you had to admire perseverance wherever you found it.   Prison life had taught him how to sleep through any kind of noise. The kid was banging on the bathroom door. The pounding greatly disturbed the two drunks sitting next to the door. The larger of the two drunks told the kid to knock it off. The kid laughed at him and yelled louder like he was playing a game with the drunk. I told you to shut the fuck up you fucking brat.

Jack was trying to mind his own business, he didn’t like the drunk cursing at the kid though. He turned to observe the scene. The kid yelled louder and was really wailing on the door with his fists and feet. The drunk rose and grabbed the kid by the shoulder. Jack couldn’t help himself, Take your hands off the kid.

The drunk looked at Jack and with his hand still on the kid said, Who the fuck are you, tough guy? Me and my buddy will come over there and kick your ass. Jack found it funny how alcohol could make you both stupid and brave.

I’m the guy who’s about to put his foot up your ass if you don’t let go of the kid. Jack stood up almost banging his head on the luggage rack.

The tension in the air woke Sam up, it was another survival skill he learned well in prison. He put his hand on Jack’s sleeve and told him, you don’t need this Jack, let it be.

Jack ignored him and walked towards the drunk. He heard Sam say, ok then I got your back.

The smaller of the drunks was trying to pull his friend back into his seat. Alcohol makes fools of us all, the bigger guy refused to back down, instead, he let go of the kid and got into Jack’s face. They were both about the same height, Jack outweighed him by about fifty pounds of lean muscle.

Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do? Fuck you, I’ll do whatever I want.

Leave the kid alone.

Fuck you, asshole,

Jack was almost ready to puke from the smell of the guy's breath, he’d had enough, he’d been calm so far, but he could feel the tide of real anger rising. That’s the second time you said fuck you to me. Don’t try for a third time.

He had to do it, Fuck you.

Jack smiled, he didn’t hit him, instead, his right arm went out and grabbed the drunk by the throat. The idiot tried to pull Jack’s arm away, he couldn’t. He fought for breath, but none was there. Jack felt someone behind him, it was Sam, Enough man, don’t kill the asshole, it ain’t worth it.

Jack let go, the drunk collapsed into his seat, then puked all over his buddy. Jack took the kid by the hand and brought him back to his mother. She offered Jack an exhausted smile and a silent, thank you.

Peace was restored to the Greyhound. The two drunks exited at the next stop without even glancing in Jack’s direction. They would find the nearest bar and no doubt regale their fellow drunks with stories about how they had kicked the crap out of some giant ex-con on the bus. The kid shut up and went to sleep. Sam went back to napping with one eye open and Jack sat there getting a little nervous. He could only imagine what was waiting for him at his childhood home.

Jack and Sam helped the young woman and her kids off the bus at the next stop. The poor woman was overwhelmed by the help she received from the two. Sam spotted a McDonalds across the street from the depot. He asked the driver if he had time to get something to eat. He had twenty minutes, plenty of time for a not so happy meal. Sam made a mad dash across the street, Jack caught up with him while Sam ordered. A Big Mac, fries, and a coke sounded pretty good after all those prison meals. Jack had mixed feelings, they were only an hour from Middletown and that dreamed about roast beef dinner. He settled for a chocolate shake and watched Sam wolf down his food. Damn Sam, you should at least chew a little bit.

It wouldn’t do me no good. Sam opened his mouth wide exposing nothing but gums. I’ll make do somehow, I always do.

Finally, the agonizing trip ended. The driver announced, next stop Middletown. Jack rose and got his duffel bag down from the luggage rack. Well, this is it, Sam, I guess I’ll be seeing you. He put his hand out and the two ex-cons shook.

I hope not Jack. I know I’ll be back inside before you know it. I just don’t do that good out here. I know where I belong. I’ll do something stupid and back, I’ll go. I hope you make it... hey, they got any good bars in Middletown?

Sure Sam, there used to be a whole strip of them. They’re not too far from the bus station. It’s funny how bars are always the last businesses to go under.

Thank God for that. You mind if I get off with you and hit a few of those establishments?

Hell no, I don’t own the place. I don’t think I’ll even be there that long. Oh yeah, Sam, thanks for having my back with the two drunks.

They got off the bus together. Jack pointed out the direction where Sam could find the bars. The old guy took off with a little joy in his step. Jack’s house was only a few blocks away so he waved off the cab drivers who waited in front of the station. He hoisted the duffel on his shoulder and began the walk.

Chapter 2

He’d spent a lot of time on these streets as a kid. He strode past Caruso’s Deli and couldn’t help but think of the time Bobby Moore had kicked his ass on the piece of sidewalk he was on now. He couldn’t remember what the fight was about. He did remember that Bobby was a few years older than him and almost twice his size. Even then Jack had a hard time backing down from a fight. Bobby was always a bully. Most of the smaller, younger kids did their best to stay far away from him. He’d beat the kids for their money, or just for the hell of it. He also ran around with his own cheering section.

Jack couldn’t remember if he’d done something to piss Bobby off, or if he was another innocent victim. Bobby tripped him as he walked out of the deli with a pack of cigarettes for his mother. Jack was twelve, small, and skinny. Bobby pummeled him after he jumped on him. His cheerleaders were in a bloodlust, egging their hero on. Jack was nothing, if not stubborn. He would not say uncle. He even managed to get a couple of weak punches in. Bobby grew more and more frustrated; this punk kid was making him look bad in front of his friends. He got off of Jack and announced that the punk wasn’t worth any more of his time.

A few years later Jack sat in Casey’s Tavern having a beer with a couple of buddies, when who should walk in alone but Bobby Moore. Jack’s first instinct was to get up and beat the bully. Bobby didn’t look so tough right now. He hadn’t grown much since they were kids and he had a sickly shrunken look. Jack’s buddies saw the look on Jack’s face and asked him what was wrong. Jack briefly explained what had happened. Jack rose to punch Bobby in the face and have him wonder why. Jack’s friend, George, persuaded him to wait until Bobby was in the parking lot because his chances of arrest would be less likely.

Jack waited in the parking lot feeling the beer and his anger grow. It had been a long time since Bobby had beat him, even so, he wanted revenge, not only for himself but for every other child Bobby had terrorized during his reign of terror. It was dark now and the light from the back door of Casey’s told Jack someone was entering or exiting the bar. The third time the door opened Bobby Moore stepped out into the almost empty parking lot. Jack fell in behind him with his own cheering section just behind. Bobby approached his old beat-up wreck of a car and Jack called his name. Bobby turned and Jack hit him square in the nose with a left hook from hell. Bobby went down and banged his head on his car on the way. Jack stood over him ready to pounce, his friends were egging him on. Bobby looked up at his attacker and pathetically asked Why? The anger was gone, he could only feel pity for the poor lump of humanity at his feet. Jack walked away and told his friends that Bobby, ‘just wasn’t worth it."

Back to the present Jack continued his walk. Further along, was Jacob’s garage. After the shop closed for the night, the back-parking lot became a hangout for Jack and most of the other teenagers in Middletown. Jack stopped and took a deep breath, this was the spot where he had met the love of his life. It was also the place where she had dumped him. On a hot, humid August night she showed up with her girlfriend Cindy. Cindy was dating Lou Sutter, Jack’s best friend.

Both girls attended St. Mary, the Catholic High School in town. They were from a different world from Jack and his crowd who attended Middletown High. Rosie O’Hare was her name. Every guy there that first night couldn’t take their horny little eyes off of her. She wasn’t tall, but what was there was gorgeous. Her hair was jet black and hung down past her shoulders. Her complexion was pale and perfect. Her deep blue eyes and dark long lashes could bring tears to most men. Most of the guys there barely noticed any of that. Her body had been sent to them straight from the gods. Her breasts were big, bouncy, and standing at attention. Her Bermuda shorts exposed a pair of perfectly shaped tanned legs. The nine guys who were there that night all fell in love.

For some reason, she took a liking to Jack. He wasn’t the type of guy who would go up to a girl and try to impress the shit out of her. To tell the truth, he was intimidated by Rosie’s beauty. He was quiet and thoughtful. Rosie liked that. They spent what was left of the summer together. Nothing much physical happened, Rosie was a good Catholic school girl after all. They would hold hands and kiss and that seemed to be fine with the both of them. Jack was in love, or at least thought he was. On the night before school was to start and they were to return to their own worlds, Rosie let Jack touch those big, beautiful breasts.

She dumped him the next weekend. Jack was heartbroken. He walked around like a zombie for weeks. He’d been with many women since Rosie, but nothing ever came close to that excitement and pure joy he’d experienced with Rosie.

Damn, he told himself, he had to snap out of it or he’d never get to that roast beef dinner. There was the house. It looked almost exactly as it always had, only a little older and more run down. The green paint was faded and peeling in spots. The lawn looked like there’d been a war between the grass and the weeds. The grass must have surrendered. The cement walkway leading to the lopsided porch was cracked and uneven. He put his hand on the old rusty gate to open it and two mangy, snarling, barking, large mongrels greeted him. He kept the gate closed.

Jack heard her before he saw her, his mother’s voice yelling at the dogs to quiet down. Mrs. Sterling saw Jack at the gate and made a mad dash for him. She grabbed him around the neck and gave him a rib breaking bear hug. The dogs continued to growl at Jack, so good old mom turned to one of the dogs and smacked him in the mouth. The two mutts took off yelping and running for the backyard. His mother hadn’t changed that much over the years. Severe would be the word most people who didn’t know her would use in her description. She appeared taller than she was, her posture was ramrod straight. Her hair was a little grayer than the last time he’d seen her. She was dressed as always in a flowered dress that ended