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Thirteen days following Black Tuesday, while most the entire population of the United States was still reeling from the reality of their newfound poverty, Enson searched for food on the streets of Roanoke, Virginia.
The streets were crowded, filled almost to capacity with people idling by shops and homes, gossiping about the rumors of a catastrophic recession that would affect the nation. Only three weeks prior, America seemed to have had the strongest economy in the world, with a prosperity few nations had seen before. But, following record amounts of stock sales, the foolishness of bankers, brokers and businessmen, America had seen their stock market collapse, and thirty billion dollars of money virtually disappear from the pockets of the populace. Now, people walked their neighborhoods, spreading
and recycling whatever gossip they heard from others, careful to add a fair amount of embellishment, but never certain of the original source of the news.
From the crowded streets, one man, finely dressed in a tailored suit, with matching bowler hat and leaning on a cane with an ivory handle, walked alone among the people. He was the friend of no one in Roanoke, but he was also enemy to none
in the small city. He listened intently to the rumors of the people, while appearing to not hear any. He noticed that whenever he passed a person, single or in groups, they would look his way and study his composure and movements. It was the same everywhere. People trusted a man in a suit. They assumed he was a banker, or someone of some importance, who could help them sort out their possibly bleak futures. A man in a suit symbolized the new America; wealth and education. A man in a suit could be trusted for guidance, especially in tough times.
This is exactly why he wore this fine suit, to be trusted by all he passed, and all who saw him.
When he was certain that he had been noticed at least a dozen times, he casually strolled to a street lamp post and propped himself up about three feet off the ground. He stayed there silently for only a moment, but already he could feel numerous pairs of eyes on him. This crowd was easy. Lately, they had all been easy.
The pedestrians observed the man curiously. His appearance was pleasing; tall, well built, with clear blue eyes, a finely etched jaw line, and straight white teeth. Think black spectacles made him appear older, and to most, more intelligent. Using the ivory cane head, he tapped loudly on the post, attracting the attention of the few who hadn't already noticed his elevation.
"My good people", he began with a look of worry. "I am here as a representative of Virginia City Bank, and I am afraid that I have terrible news," he said, stopping for a moment to let the worried murmurs from the crowd grow louder, then die down completely. When he was sure he had every ear in on the street, he began again.
"My sources inform me that the horrible events of late are only the beginning, and that most likely, this will be a terrible time for all."
The distress in the crowd was great; grown men and women exclaiming worry loudly, which caused the children to begin to act
up or cry. This time, he let the worry expand upon itself.
When he was sure that he once again had the crowd's full attention, he began to speak. His voice was softer than before, purposely forcing the crowd to gather in tighter to hear him speak. This led to some pushing and shoving for best position, which was also something he wanted.
"No matter what is done now, I promise you that we will all be on the bread line by December. And you with young ones might outlive your children, because when it becomes a fight for food, it will indeed be every man for himself," he exclaimed to the crowd.
The crowd grew uproarious at the news, and minor pushing and shoving began to escalate into scuffles, fights, and stampedes to leave the main street for refuge on the curbs and in store doorways.
A young mother bundled her child in her arms and fled to the side of the street. Three feet from the curb, she
tripped and was pulled into the melee like a frog pulls in a gnat. The child lay on the curb, crying loudly for his mother.
The instigator of his whole riot, the trustworthy banker whom no one had seen before, and would easily be forgotten, slipped down the pole and escaped
to safety on the next street. Ironically, while one street was a mass of chaotic violence, the next street
over was desolately quiet and peaceful.
He stepped from the shadows of the late afternoon sun and strode confidently to his car, which sat in front of a closed deli. The car was a 1930 Ford 5 Window Coupe, still shiny and new, and in the custom light blue that was rare on most cars of the 1920's. Even then, a car was a rare sight, and most people gawked when they saw him pass by. He would give a wave, and for the kids, he would stop by and let them look around, but he never stayed long. Staying in one place too long was never a good idea. There was always the chance he would be recognized, or caught in one
of his many lies.
His real name was Jason Evvers, but he hadn't said that name to anyone in at least ten years.
But he always used the initials, because they were here and there in his personal effects, and if something was ever found of his, well, that was an explanation he didn't want to have to give.
Jason had been born into luxury. His parents were wealthy, and this wealth had afforded him a life like few others.
But this life had also provided him with an outstanding education, without the need to work to support himself. This free time became a problem for Jason, the boredom, the loneliness and worst of all, the feeling of purposelessness. Ten years ago, Jason decided to strike out on his own and see what he could make of himself. But after about six months of living in hotels and cavorting with prostitutes and various escorts, the money he had taken with
him was gone.
For Jason, this was a terrible time. He wasn’t completely destitute, but for a man like Jason, not being able to spend money frivolously, without a second thought was maddening. He would walk by a store and see a bowler in the front window that struck his fancy, and actually have to wonder if he could afford it, or if he would be better to go without. For most people, a change in fortune like this may spark a new life, a new set of values and a new way to live and earn a living. Not for Jason Evvers. For Jason, his first close brush with middle class poverty, was enough to make him cower like a scared
child and go home to his father.
His father welcomed him home with open arms and subtle glee. Fully understood by Jason was that he was forever a man unable to make his way in the world in the same way his father had before him. He was a miserable failure who would be forced to take over his
father's business to have a life. But, for the period of time before he took over, Jason was forced to live as a middle class person. He was not allowed to stay in the family mansion; instead he was subjected to living in a meager two-bedroom home on the far reaches of the family property. Servants quarters to be exact, except they were empty save for Jason and his numerous possessions.
Demetrius Evvers, successful businessman, and now the torturous bastard father of Jason hoped this slight hint at a modest living would quell Jason’s spoiled nature and make him more akin to the scores of people he would be in association with. This decision to make Jason’s life a little less comfortable was not at all malicious, but instead a hope a father had to cure his son of some attitude problems geared toward less fortunate people. But, for the next 18 months, Jason learned little, and his resentment blossomed into full-blown hatred. In the long nights
when Jason sat alone in his tiny living room, on a meager couch and forced to eat meals he prepared poorly for himself, he kept himself amused by planning ways to punish both his
father and those poor people that he was forced to live like by the unfair old bastard.
Six months shy of two years of middle class life, Demetrius did his son a
favor and died. Jason sat through the funeral and the meetings after with a stoic expression of regret and panged sadness, but inside he cherished his chance. After the final papers were signed, the money tallied, and the legacy his, Jason sold the company, the house, and all the assets of his
father's business for a grand total. But, instead of dividing the profits among his family, he left them penniless and homeless, never even saying farewell to his sisters and mother.
Rather than feel regret at leaving his only living family in absolute
squalor, Jason found that he rather liked the idea of breaking people who were once so high in the social and financial ladder. In fact, he loved it. This more than anything was the emotion that set him on his current path of deceit and treachery that lead Jason to this moment in time. This moment when he
would meet a man, of sorts, who knew more about taking from people than Jason could understand in
a thousand lifetimes.
©2004 StoriesByEmail.com
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