The Opening of Jacky Pow, and the Idol of the Halfmoon King

Context

          I'm reviving this blog to update yall on all of my projects. The first is Jacky Pow, and the Idol of the Halfmoon King. Jacky Pow is a series of pulp supernatural thriller novels set in the 1930s that I've been writing for some time. The following text is the beginning of Jacky Pow's first instalment. Well I suppose it's not really the first, but it's the first version of it that I feel confident enough to share. Please let me know your thoughts.

The Opening

           And once-more, in the midst of the fight, I found I was a middle-aged man. Another fight, another age. A blow, cracking down - the splatter of blood upon the face of some imaginary foe.

 

“Jacky! Jacky!” bellowed some irrelevant man, irrelevant because I knew I was hallucinating. 

I awoke, still nineteen, slumped against the warehouse wall, revolver clutched to my beating heart. 

“Nathan…” I tried to say, but managed only a whisper.

A gunshot cracked across the hall, dulled by the throbbing in my skull, and I knew he was gone. I slid a final bullet into my revolver as the shadow of a man crept through the doorway - leaning and flickering in the candlelight.

He was saying something, but I couldn’t hear. As he stepped into the chamber, I shot him. His green eyes widened in surprise, Nathan’s eyes.

Then I awoke, once more a middle-aged man, my bruised back against a cold brass locker in my Uncle Domonic’s New York fighting ring. The sounds of a bewildered crowd emanated from the arena. Uncle Dominic approached. 

“Did I win?” I tried to pretend it was a joke. He smiled, plucking a stack of tens from his overcoat and tucking them into my jacket. 

“Hey, Dominic…” I wiped the blood off my lips. “I need to ask you something.”. 

He smiled “What do you need?”. As I began to search my pockets, he reached above my locker, producing a small envelope, “Looking for this?”

 “No,” I said, “I was asking about a-”

“Yeah, yeah I know what you're looking for. The eviction notice is inside the envelope. I’ll keep it in my office so it doesn't get lost "

"So you can handle the payment”

He chuckled, “God no! You’re barely breaking me even this season. You want me to pay your rent?” He laughed, shoving the envelope into his pocket, “Scrap your old car or something!”.

He paused, “Look, I’ll tell you what… Call me when they kick you out. I’ll pick you up and you can sleep here, in the old storage room or something… We’ll make it work, okay?” I nodded, “You’re a good guy, Jacky. I knew you’d understand.”

He slid a pair of scratchy gloves over my fingers, “It’s damn cold out, you’ll need ‘em.” He straightened the cuffs, then let out a breath. “There's something else isn’t there?”

“I’m thinking of signing up for this experimental drug trial.” I straightened my coat. Uncle Domonic began to frown, but I continued, “It’s this group called the Somnium Company.” He grimaced, shaking his head. “Just listen, I-”

“Jacky, you’ve been down that road before. Nothing worked! For goodness sake, I had to pay off your debts with my own savings!”

“Look, this time is different. Every trial they’ve done so far has succeeded. They’ve treated insomnia, lunacy, and half a dozen other ailments I can’t remember. They said it’s free. I’m a great candidate and they wanna make a story out of it. They say curing a veteran who got his bell rung during the war would make the perfect headline, and frankly I don’t blame ‘em.”

“Hold on, you went out and talked to these guys?” he asked.

I stuttered, “Look, this is the first real hope I’ve had in a long time, if I can just-”

“The answer is no. I don’t know what those guys are trying to get out of you, but I’m telling you it’s a bad idea.”

“Alright.” I sighed, stepping towards the exit, “Yeah, I understand. See you on monday…”,

I slid my key into the lock and held my gloved fingers above the broken latch, then pushed. The door slid open, scattering powdered snow as it scraped across the sidewalk. 

Wisps of a fog curled through the open doorway. Above the rooftops branches jostled in the breeze, picked over by the elements like scavenged corpses. The leaves of last autumn skipped across the road and up into the shrouded sky. 

I wrestled with the crooked latch of my latest rental, then lowered inside. I sighed, grabbing a box of ten-cent cigarettes from the glove compartment. 

“Good morning folks!” the radio crackled to life as I turned the key, “I’m speaking to you live! From…” I cranked down the volume till the announcer was barely audible.

“Howdy” said a gravelly voice from behind. I reached for the gun in my glove box without a thought. “Freeze and don't turn around.” Said the voice, “Just hand me your wallet.”

I took a breath “My wallet…” I took another, “Is in the glovebox, I was just-“

“Bullshit!!” spat the mugger, “Not a single motherfucker living or dead upon this planet has ever kept his wallet in the damn glove box! If you say anything stupid like that again, the only thing comin outta your mouth will be the back of your skull”.

“You finished?” I asked, reaching into my pocket.

“Don’t be a fool now.”

Slowly, I removed a quarter, turning towards the mugger with the coin atop my outstretched hand. His black eyes met my gaze, then twitched. 

He was a man in his twenties, wearing an oversized trench coat and a cheap fedora. A mop of greasy hair dangled across his ghostly face, a face he didn’t bother to conceal. He clenched a brass revolver.

He looked at the coin “That ain’t all you got, you piece of-“ he paused, eyes widening. “I- I’m so sorry. Keep it!”

“What?” I asked.

“Forget about it.” He said, fumbling with the door. 

I sighed, he was probably drunk, “Is there anywhere I can take you?” I asked. 

“What?”

“A hospital? A home?”  I placed the coin back in my pocket, “Look, I don’t know what you're going through, but it doesn't look healthy. When I was on the street I did all sorts of things just to get by, and I don’t want you to end up like I did.”

He stopped wrestling with the door.

I sighed, “Last chance before I change my mind.” 

“If you could take me to Wilhelm street? Just drop me off by the corner store.” 

Wilhelm street was a minute’s drive from my apartment. I could drop him off on the way. “Here,” I motioned towards his gun. He tensed. “Don’t worry, I’ll give it back.” I forced a smile, “What’s your name?”

“None of your business” 

I nodded “Gimme a fake one if it makes you feel better, but I’m no rat. I just need something to call you.”

He sighed “Bill Oyler, but most folks just call me Oyler.” He flipped the revolver so the barrel was facing him, then uncocked the hammer. He handed me the weapon as if it were a pair of scissors.

I stuttered, “You could’ve just...” “Yeah I know,” said Bill, “Just drive.”

I made my way towards the Triborough Bridge, watching the streetlamps dance across my windshield, “Did you scrape the glass?” I asked

“I tried not to. Is it chipped?”

“No, I mean you scraped off the ice.”

“Yeah.” he said,  “If you had to scrape it yourself you would have seen me.”.

I chuckled. 

“What? It’s not like you noticed...” he paused, “You know, you’re actually a pretty nice guy.” 

I stared at his reflection, puzzled “Do we know each other?”

“Of course not,” he laughed. “But I know you Jacky! You're the best of the best! Ain’t no man in his right mind gonna be stealing from you”. 

I turned onto the bridge “I think you got me mixed up with someone else.”

He frowned, “I- I thought I recognized you. You ain’t Jacky Pow?”

 “No, that is my name, but I’m certainly not who you think. I can throw a decent punch but I ain’t the best. I haven't been for a long time.” 

“Don’t be modest! You haven’t lost a match since last summer!” 

“Didn’t I lose tonight?”

“I don’t know, I was waiting in here.” He twitched “Still- Still one hell of a streak though.” 

“Nah, I’ve lost plenty”.

Bill chuckled. 

He had the twitchy mannerisms of a cocaine addict, but slurred as if he was drunk. “Heard about that Somnium medication?” I asked. 

“Yeah,” said Bill, “A friend of mine is part of the trial group. He’s an amateur chemist, trying to refine it into something more potent. Kinda sketchy I guess, but right now it don’t seem worse than cocaine.” He paused, “Take a left after the bridge, it's quicker.”

“I know.”

After a long and silent drive, I pulled into the parking lot of the corner store.

“It was nice meeting you Jacky. Sorry I aimed a gun at you.” Bill rose from his seat. 

“No problem” I said, “It’s not like you shot me.”

Bill produced an index card from his breast pocket, “Got a pencil or something?”

“Yeah,” I said, handing him a pen from my glove box, “Why?”

“This is my exchange number. I was thinking you and I could-”

“No.” I snapped

“I was just gonna ask if-”

“Nathan, I’m not interested. You had a change of heart and I respect that, but frankly I ain’t got the time nor the inclination to turn this into any sort of relationship. Fuck off and find some help!”

“Nathan? My name is-” He stepped onto the sidewalk, letting out a breath  “Nevermind..”

The moment he had closed the door I slammed the pedal. I sped towards my apartment while swearing under my breath.