Off the Road - 48

a jazz novel on a typewriter

2

He didn’t sleep long but he was a spirit in the material world woken in the land of confusion. Yesterday with love and squalor he was told by Dean that he would be shattered and smashed, and he would not hear the cartridges coming. Is slept the night through but it was not the sort of sleep that had been in the past because he ruminated on what to do and now, he knew exactly what to do and how to do it. He got dressed very quickly and very precisely and went down onto Harvard Avenue and Commonwealth in Allston with a plan and a purpose. Unlike Dean and righteously every assassin he had no weapon and he would not need a weapon nor would anyone be polished off in the execution. Liquidating is so distasteful anyway, at least as far as Sal saw it. He got on to the Green Line train going inward, or as the local lingo said it: inbound. He was going to Government Center and then on to the Blue Line. It was 6:30 a realm which Sal had rarely been to go he did have a Visa.

Once upon a time, he was a teenager and as such he was the pristine version of all the type: gangly, fresh, and with a sterling sense of what not to do. He was very good at this the only difference is that now he knew that and was going to take steps to correct the lazy disadvantages that were once part of his demeanor. And he was going to start at the perverse end because Dean deemed chasing him anything that he did would be the last. He had an objective and that was to survive to get over being young and start making strides towards being old, because after all being old is a privilege that is denied to many. If he wanted to make the cut, he had better start in the present because the future might be quite short. As he got to the middle section where the train stopped, he could smell the rank odors that wafted from every place: there were rappers containing ketchup that was already spoiled there were trash bins containing all sorts of cups that made an elixir to form a sour spice of Tanzania and tea, the candy bars of a variety of forms of sugar to get one higher then glue, and everything was covered with eggs and pepper with packets of salsa.

The B train wound its way on the street through the winding cigarette-style Commonwealth towards Boston University and down under. Down under in a fried-out zombie to Kenmore Square with its white and orange Citgo sign and the display of streets going into and out of a mass mob which conglomerated in an assemblage of stoplights and stop signs to disregulate all of the people trying to move through and to a combination of miscellaneous vehicles. And everyone was polite it was all of the others who acted like road hogs. He could see all of this from the inside of the train seeing near collisions of the bumper-to-bumper mélange. Then he thought of something which he should get and left at Kenmore Station, below the ground, and inched his way up through the skeletons to the surface.

Sal made his way across one side of the street, which was difficult because there were three lanes of traffic on just this side, and he reached a store that sold army supplies and that is what he wanted. He entered in and looked through all of the baskets going to the back searching for one specific object: he wanted a white mask to cover his head in case there were explosions, sparks, or fire with a long snorkeling mask attached. One could never be too prepared when going into battle.

Then Sal got back on the green line with its slow light rail style and waited through the turn of stations until they reached Government Center, which was the station where inbound became outbound then Sal trounced out of the doorways and down to the next level, where the heavy mob ruled. It only took a moment before the next Blue Line entered into the station. Instead of the delicacy of the Green Line the Blue Line packed a punch and grated to a stop. Since there was no other station before this everyone entered pell-mell to get the best seats which were all parallel rather than perpendicular.

Sal looked around and saw many different faces of different colors and different ethnicities: some knew the stations whereas others did not, some part to the person next to them, others were quiet. While there was no rain the possibility could happen before tonight, so some were taking rain jackets and a few umbrellas, we’re as others risked their shirts, slacks, and skirts to be able to get back to the land they were before.

The Blue Line passed from underneath to overhead and Sal could see the hills and valleys and streets of Revere. Sal stopped at the station called “Wonderland,” though there was no wonder and the land consisted of grit. But this is life and Sal got off. Sal still had the locator on and that was important. Sal wanted Dean to come to him and then he would be ready to execute his plan.

Sal went across the road and disappeared into the grass that had grown almost 6 feet, and tread his way through the sand to a place where he had cover. Then he waited because he knew that Dean well slightly patient was not that patient and therefore, he knew that Dean would come for him today. This is because while he might look placid there was a tremor that Sal knew well. It was the tremor that made Dean call when Sal was moving out, just the right time to get Sal to pick him up and chase off after whatever substance that Dean needed to have before arriving in San Francisco. The only difference is Sal knew what to do with that information.

And Sal would be waiting.