Young Jack Cage chocked with fear as he watched the yellow-brown vapor crawl over the edge of the trench like a ghostly being. He knew instantly that this ethereal mist was death itself coming to claim all it touched.
He fumbled at the gas mask in the brown canvas bag slung at the middle of his chest. The strap of his First Aid pouch was entangled in the mask’s filter hose. Jack began to panic and stood to run. Suddenly a powerful hand seized hold of his tunic and thrust his back against the wall of the trench and his backside flat to the ground.
Kneeling over him and holding him down with one knee in his lap was what appeared to be a giant in a French military uniform. As this Titan held him fast, thus keeping him from running away in confused hysteria, Jack saw a flash of flame red hair escaping from behind his saviors own donned gas mask. Jack also saw the cloud of deadly Mustard Gas rolling over his boots and leggings.
The giant Frenchman disentangled Jacks mask and then placed it over Jack’s face drawing the adjustable straps down tight. Jack began to calm down, his heartbeat slowed until it no longer felt as if it were trying to burst from his chest to scamper away like a terrified pup.
The big Frenchman, sensing that Jack was no longer a danger to himself, released the young man and, after giving him an affectionate slap upside the head, Duck-Walked out of sight around a sharp bend in the trench.
Jack briefly thought about following the man, however the lenses of his mask were beginning to fog over and he could barely see the ground in front of him. Jack was in a bit of a pickle and not quite sure what his next move was to be.
At seventeen he should have been like all the other kids back home in the states, playing baseball in a vacant lot and looking at pretty girls. But then Jack was never like all the other kids.
He had never known his parents. Hell, he had never even known who his parents were. Jack had grown up in the orphanages and foster homes of Chicago until he was eleven. That is when he had grown big enough to fight back against those that had abused him. By the time he was thirteen he was five feet ten inches tall and he had learned how to protect himself from the predators and monsters that lurked in the Chicago jungle.
He also learned to hunt, to provide for himself, without becoming a predator like the street gangs and thugs that always sought to recruit him. Jack had been treated badly by these people when he was small and weak. Monsters that were bigger and stronger had used their strength to hurt Jack and take advantage of him. He would not allow himself to become such a monster and he really, really, did not like those who were.
At the age of sixteen he was six feet tall and one hundred sixty five pounds of lean muscle and power. Jack had been solicited, begged, bribed and threatened by the Chicago gangs in an attempt to gain his loyalty to this or that particular family. He always refused and it always cost him something. Of course he never refused politely. Finally one night shortly after Jacks seventeenth birthday he was leaving through the back door of a diner where he washed dishes in exchange for meals and a bed when three gorillas surprised him in the alley and thrashed him viciously. One of them grunted out a message as he landed one final kick to Jacks exposed belly.
“Last chance Cage, last chance.” The big monkeys walked away from Jacks bruised and bleeding young body lighting cigarettes and complaining of aching knuckles. Jack moaned and cussed at the men as they walked away.
“That’s the spirit boy’o!” One of the thugs called back over his shoulder while the other two chuckled softly. “We’ll come bring ya’ flowers in a couple days, and be getting yer’ final answer then as well, ay?”
Jack had never thought of himself as a particularly smart boy and yet, he felt he had at least a small measure of common sense, and so, he was not sure if it was his intelligence or his intuition, however something, at that very moment, told him that it was high time to leave Chicago.
The back door of Leno’s Deli opened wide throwing a spot light over Jack’s limp body. Leno Gorrozo was throwing out scraps for strays when he nearly walked over the crumpled and distorted pile of flesh that was Jack Cage. A moan and a cough startled the little Italian man and caused him to take a second look at the shadowy figure lying at his feet.
“Jacky my boy” he cried “Mama mia, what’ happen to you. Rosa! Rosa, come quick! Jacky, he’ is all smash’ed up. Oh poor Jacky. Mama mia!”
Leno’s wife Rosa and his two young sons pulled him into the diner and laid him out on the long counter. Jack started to feel sick and then threw up. He had a red knot over his left eye the size of an egg, he had a split lip and his left cheek was swollen badly. Mrs. Gorrozo felt over Jacks ribs as Mr. Gorrozo and the boys removed his jacket, waist coat and shirt. She found a nasty bruise on his right flank that brought Jack up off the counter with a yelp and a foul word a she felt for broken bones. The two boys giggled. Mr. Gorrozo harshly rebuked them in their native tongue then sent them off to bed.
Rosa Gorrozo gently pushed Jack back down onto the counter. She stroked his hair and spoke softly to him. “I will forgive your coarse language Jack, because you are in pain.”
“Sorry Mama Rosa” Jack said sheepishly. She smiled at him and gently washed the blood from his mouth. “Papa will make a bed for you in the store room. You need rest now.” Mr. Gorrozo came back with a slab of cold meat and laid it gingerly on the goose egg over Jacks eye.
That night these people whom Jack had known for the last four years sat by his makeshift bed tending his injuries and watching him for any sign of internal injury. Jack thought about how he had come here every day and swept their floor, washed their dishes and eaten their food. Mr. Gorrozo had taught him many things about cooking and business and how to repair the building and equipment.
Mama Rosa, she had insisted that Jack refer to her this way, had always cleaned and repaired his clothes. She cut his hair and made him bathe every other day. Once a month she would sit him and her sons down in a chair and inspect their hair and teeth and the insides of their ears.
Jack would miss these things. He would miss these people.
He spent most of the next day lying in bed. The Gorrozo’s were in and out checking on his wellbeing while attending to the business of the diner. Shortly after the evening rush Mama Rosa went back to the store room only to discover Jack had gone. The bedding was neatly folded and upon it was a shred of white deli paper. Mrs. Gorrozo picked it up and recognized Jacks handwriting.
“Thank you for all you have done for me. Jack”. Mama Rosa began to cry.
It was a cold wet and windy April evening in Chicago. Jack pulled the lapel of his light wool jacket up around his neck. His head ached and every step sent a sharp pain through his ribs. He had to leave Chicago tonight however with no money and no means of travel he was damned if he knew how he was going to accomplish it.
Jack rounded a corner and was clobbered by an explosion of wind. Staggering backward he found his footing again, leaned forward and pushed on. As he labored against the gale he could hear a voice that had been picked up and carried along by the zephyr.
“Wilson…war… read all…” was about all he could hear above the other noises that had been drawn into the Chicago wind. He continued forward until he reached the corner of the next building. Using his hand to steady himself he rounded the block and escaped the whirlwind. Continuing down the street he saw a Paper boy hocking the evening news.
“Extra, Extra… Read all about it, President Wilson Declares War on Germany!”