Another great edit by WishingOne and I, again her determination and hardwork to put this work together continually to surprise me. I'm too lucky to have a beta reader like her. I hope you enjoy this chapter. There will be more to come. :)
Chapter 4. I Gotta Feeling
At dawn John went outside, waiting for Richie to pick him up. His steady breaths were like white clouds in the dewy morning air. He stood there, silent, a mere shadow in the dark. As John waited he heard the steady crunching of footsteps on the gravel. He quickly went to his waist for his pistol, until he heard a voice.
"I'm gonna come with you John." It was Joes, his figure approaching him. He could detect a slight tremor is his voice, it even sounded like fear.
"What's your first name Joes?"
Joes seemed taken aback by the question. "Howard."
Johnny nodded thoughtfully. "Howard Joes, that's a good name."
"My daddy named me after his best friend, he was an honorable man."
John cocked one eyebrow, and smirked. "Are you an honorable man?"
He laughed heartily. "Not on bit."
"Good, cause what we're going to do isn't honorable at all."
Suddenly the sound of rubber rolling on gravel and the soft purr of an engine filled the early morning air. Richie pulled up in a sleek, black Brougham, the headlights flashing briefly onto the driveway as it turned around to meet with John and Howard. Someone else was sitting shotgun, so they both climbed into the roomy back of the car. As soon as John shut the door the car sped off stealthily into the morn, the engine roaring in protest as Ritche stepped on the accelerator. They avoided as many busy streets as possible to be discrete and for fear of prowling cop cars.
As they came in sight of the airport, the guards opened the chain link gate to the main runway, already expecting them, letting Riche drive right in. A plane was ready for them, the propellers turning and making an impossibly loud racket. Richie drove right up to it and parked next to the plane, abruptly stopping in front of the side door to let the rest of the gang out. Ritche then turned off the car, the headlights snuffing out in the dark, and got out himself. The only source of light was now the runway guides and the plane itself. He quickly ran towards John as they were boarding the aircraft. Before John could ask why, Richie responded, half-shouting over the drone of the plane engine. "Mr. Karpis has instructed me to accompany you on your trip."
"Fine, just get our bags and get me two rooms at the Devonwood Hotel."
"Right away sir." He quickly got back into his car and drove to the nearest payphone as John and Howard made their way into the plane.
"Why exactly are we going to Michigan boss?"
"I'm gonna get my girl out of there," John said determinedly.
"Your girl?"
"She sacrificed herself for me, and I can't let her get taken away like that."
Howard nodded, agreeing. "So it's for love."
"It's always been about love."
As Joes settled into his seat John stood up and went to the cockpit. He spoke a few quiet words with the pilot and then settled back to the main cabin. He sat down, tipping his black fedora over his eyes as he shut them. As the door closed, and the plane took off, slowly gaining altitude with every second, many thoughts started to fill John's mind.
He realized that Red was right, before his death he had told him that he never let go. It made him sad to think about him. John thought about Red sometimes, he was loyal to John but also a good friend. He stood by him all the way. When he was done with this, he decided he was going to kill Melvin Purvis and his men. He was going to avenge Red, Pretty Boy Floyd, Baby Face Nelson and the rest of the gang. Then he was going to disappear, perhaps go to Cuba or somewhere farther with his girl Billie of course. He smiled; things were going to turn out okay. All he needed was time.
He had already dozed off when someone had abruptly grabbed his arm.
"What is it?" he asked, annoyed.
"We're here, but there are cops everywhere. They're asking questions." Howard said nervously.
"Don't worry about it, just follow my instructions." John rubbed his eyes, he was still woozy from being shaken up.
"I'm telling you sir; I'm here for my grandfather's death. I came in early this morning because he died the night before. I wanted to get here as soon as possible!" Howard cried.
Howard may have not been to greatest gangster, but he was sure a damn good actor.
The cops looked at him with sympathy but continued to search the plane. John quickly snuck under a cot and kept as quiet as possible. His fedora fell off onto the seat he had occupied as he did so.
The officer went through most of their luggage, becoming more and more flustered with just finding clothes. They moved onto the next bag when they finally found a shotgun under Howard's suitcase.
"What is this?" The cop lifted up the firearm carefully, an accusing air in his voice.
"This was the first gun I had gotten. My grandfather gave it to me. I want it buried with him today." Howard replied coolly.
The fat cop still didn't look convinced. He walked around the plane slowly, eyeing everything with speculation. He found the fedora on the seat, picking it up and inspecting it with narrowed eyes. He made his way towards the cot, continuing to look around. Johnny could see the officer's feet right next to him. He held his breath.
The other cop quickly walked towards the officer and tugged at his sleeve. "Come on boss, these guys mean no harm, let's get out of here."
Hesitantly, the cop nodded and put the fedora back down onto the cot. He eyed the rest of the gang suspiciously as they made their way out of the plane. Joes watched them climb into their patrol coupe to make sure they left quickly. Within in a few minutes they were out of sight.
"Not bad kid, not bad at all." John chuckled as he climbed out from under the cot, grabbing his hat from the top of it and placing it back on his head.
"I've been living on the streets all my life; I'm bound to learn a couple tricks."
"You're more valuable than I thought."
They picked up their ransacked luggage and made their way out. They went to the airport and called a cab to the Devonwood hotel. Once the taxi had dropped them off, Richie unloaded their bags and followed Howard into their room. John Dillinger didn't share rooms, unless it was with Billie. But he required his men too. It was dangerous at night, things could happen.
At midnight John was fully dressed and clean. During the day he had snuck down to the nearest police station and found out where the state jail was. He was highly amused by the fact that nobody had recognized him, still being Public Enemy number one. He made his way out of the hotel room carefully, to try not to wake the boys. Though he doubted they were going to wake up anytime soon, most of them were passed out from the booze they've drunk that day. He jumped into his car and ignited the engine. It started with a soft purr. He drove quickly and quietly in the night. He had to do this alone.
John parked a couple feet from the looming building and got out of the car, being careful to shut the door slowly so nobody would hear. It would have been considered strange and suspicious to have anyone come in this late at night to a jail for regular, legal business. He quietly crept towards the entrance.
The building was a hellhole. Guards were gazing over the grounds in watchtowers, their hands never straying from their rifles slung over their shoulders. Spotlights were flashing at every corner. He grimaced. He knew he couldn't save her today. It was impossible.
He had to learn the corners of the building first.
John silently made his way to the nearest guard, approaching him from the back. The guard turned around, his eyes widening but before he could shout Johnny had raised his pistol and whacked him across the face with it. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he fell to the ground unconscious. Dillinger dragged him away and slowly stripped him of his clothes. Coincidentally, they fit perfectly.
There was a small map in the jacket of the entire building. He pulled his cap down as he entered the building, nodding to the warden casually as he made his way to the cells. He read the little manual in his hand. He learned that there were five floors, two hundred and thirty guards positioned in and around the institution and a thirty feet fence to climb over, if they closed the gate. Perfect.
When he finally reached the women's section, he looked up. The entire row was dark. He flicked on the lights; they made an impossibly loud buzzing sound as they slowly blinked on. He was hoping that he would find her.
But instead he found his body trembling and his mind beginning to shut down. These women were dirty, skinny and broken. He couldn't imagine Billie here; he prayed that she wasn't. Most of the women had their heads bowed and were sitting on the floor or sleeping. It was past midnight.
As John walked through the corridors he rapped on the jail cells with the nightstick he had acquired from the guard. He hoped it would alert a few girls so he could get a glimpse of each their faces and find Billie. None responded and some he thought weren't even alive. Then an idea popped into his brain.
He began whistling to the tune of "Bye Bye Blackbird". He figured that Billie would respond to that one; it was their song. He continued to whistle as he walked up and down the cells, but nobody responded. What if she wasn't here at all? What if she was…? No, he couldn't even complete the thought. He became more desperate and whistled louder as he started jogging down the halls until he heard a voice.
"Please no, any other song. Please don't whistle that song. I beg of you sir."
John froze and turned around, walking back to the cell to find a tattered girl with her face in her hands. He bent down and whispered softly, "Let me see your face."
She looked up, with her eyes full of tears.
John almost died when he saw that it was Billie.
"Johnny?" her voice wavered.
"Yes, it's me I'm back." John quickly unlocked the jail cell and threw his arms around her, while she sobbed gently in his arms.
"Tell me…tell me this is not a dream, tell me"
"I promise you it's not darling," he said into her hair. He kissed her face, her eyes, and her perfect little lips.
"I thought you were dead, they told me that you were shot."
"I was shot, but Alvin got me out of there."
"I almost lost you," she hugged John tighter. "I knew you'd come back for me."
He pulled out of the hug, looking at her seriously, his eyes unflinching. "I promised to protect you, remember?"
She nodded and smiled weakly. Then he noticed something below her left eye. It was a mottled black and purple bruise. He trailed his eyes down her face and body, finding scratches all over her skin. His eyes widened in horror.
"What is this?" he asked quietly, delicately picking up her hand and showing her the multiple cuts on it.
"Some of the cops hit me before, they didn't heal yet." Billie said, averting her gaze from his eyes.
"Who did this to you? Which guards?" he demanded, struggling to control his building rage.
"Johnny it wasn't the guards, it was the cop Harold Reinecke." Her voice broke at his name.
"The fat cop?"
"Yes, he beat me when I was being taken out of Tumbleweed remember? I wouldn't give him your information. I loved you too much."
John swallowed his fury down. "He won't touch you again, and I'm going to kill him," he said tightly.
"I don't care; I just want to go home and be with you." She hugged him again.
Those words hit John, home. That word usually brings comfort, peace and love to one's mind. But the worst think was that he couldn't give that to the one person in the world that mattered to him. He couldn't give it to her, not yet.
John choked on the words, "Billie, I can't get you out tonight."
