June 29, 1933
Mining Is almost finished. Hit a gold vein 3 days ago, and am currently happy about my predicament. This gold could help me, and I would finally be able to see my parents. My parents live in Upstate New York, so they were hit by depression the hardest. They live in what has been coined a "Hooverville", a decrepit little shack by the Hudson river. When I visit them again, I will be able to get them a real house, using the gold I found as a good payment. After my dinner, I grabbed my pick to do some last minute mining. It was a wise decision, as the hole was being slowly covered back in. The wind had started pushing dirt in. I'll give you my story. After being drafted, I was deployed to France, being 15 years old at the time. During the battle of the Somme, I was injured by shrapnel, and this left me mute. I still cannot speak. My parents learned of this, and I was honorably discharged, with a medal for valor. After hearing about the Bonus Army, I left for the great plains. I built a log home, and focused on mining. When the stock market crashed, my parents lost everything. I resolved to find gold, so that they could have some money to live on. I also am quite fond of one woman, back home. When I left for the war, she and I sent letters to each other. When the stock market crashed, she lost everything, yet, It didn't affect her smile. She always saw the bright side of things, and I fell for her. I resolved to get money so we could marry.
June 30, 1933
Packed all my gold in my shoulder packs, disassembled my cabin, and made my way through a small town I frequented. There was a local bar, and I usually stopped to get a drink. I walked in, and sat down. The barhand took one look at me, and brought me the usual, a simple cup of coffee. I don't drink alcohol, as it interferes with my motion perception.
"You hit gold?"
This came from a guy 2 tables over. I nodded.
"It looks like it. Either you like collecting stones, or those rocks in that there shoulder bag is gold."
The man flashes me a grin, and his two comrades start whispering to each other. I get up after finishing my coffee, and start heading out.
"How much for the gold?"
I turn around. Shaking my head, I signal that it's not for sale. The man's face darkens.
"Have a…safe trip then," he says, coldly. I take note of the man's gold incisor.
I step outside, and start walking toward the closest city with a train station. The distance is 150 miles. 2 days walking. After 3 hours, I stopped to rest. The gold was quite heavy.
I looked at my map, I had traveled 9 miles, and needed water and food. Luckily, I had chosen a path that had many towns in between, where I could stop, eat, and rest. Just then, I heard a sound like hoofbeats. I turned, and there were three horses and riders heading in my direction. They stopped, and turned their horses. The leader jumped down, and pulled out his revolver. Pointing it at me, he exclaimed.
"Gimme that shoulder bag!"
I stayed silent, and conveyed that it wasn't going to happen.
"Did you not hear me? I said, give me the shoulder bag!"
One of his companions got off his horse, and clubbed me over the head with his rifle. I was knocked unconscious, but alive. That was their first fatal mistake. They then grabbed the shoulder bag, but left all my mining gear where it was, including my pickaxe. That was their second fatal mistake. They had no idea that the gold was meant for something else.
July 1, 1933
I woke up, facedown in dirt. Standing up, I brush myself off, and look around. Nothing but plains for a long distance. I notice a small town up ahead. I grab my mining gear, and start walking. I reach the town in 30 minutes, and head for the saloon. I walk inside, and sit down at the bar. I order a cup of coffee, and look around. Something catches my eye. The same man that I met at the other town's saloon was sitting and playing poker with his buddies. Something seemed different, then it hit me. He was wearing my shoulder bags. He stole my gold. I made note of his distinct cauliflower shaped ears, and drank my coffee, watching him. After 2 hours, he and his buddies got up, and left, paying the bill. I grabbed my gear, paid, and left as well. I followed them for 2 hours, until they stopped at a small ditch. I crouched down, and hid myself in the tall grass. They had sold their horses back in town, and had walked all this way. One was relieving himself, and told his boss he would catch up. I grab my pickaxe, and with one strike, guarantee that he would NOT be catching up, or getting up, ever again. I leave the body there, and proceed to follow the other two. The Boss seemed to be wary, as if he had guessed what had happened. I simply followed them to the next town. An hour later, the sheriff arrived, and started asking if anyone came in that passed by Haywood Gully. The boss and his underling said they did. The sheriff then whispered in their ear.
"WHAT?! That's my partner!"
"Well sir, we found the body by the Gully."
I couldn't hear anymore, and walked back into the saloon. One hour later, I grabbed my mining gear and, finding the Inn where the men were staying, I got myself a room. Costs these days were low, but money was lower. It cost me a few bills I had. The next stop was Kansas City, where I would spend the rest of my money on a train ticket to New York. assuming that the men were heading in the same direction, I found out that they were planning to head to New York as well. I thought of a plan to get my gold back on the train, but I needed to get rid of Goldtooth's other henchman. In order to do that, I need to get rid of him before Kansas City, without being spotted. Easier said than done. I simply smiled, then went to bed. I had a long day ahead of me. One full of stealth, tracking, and a fight for my gold…
I wonder how my parents are doing.
July 2, 1933
As I woke up, I heard a commotion just downstairs. I rushed downstairs, and found myself overhearing Goldtooth yelling.
"I want to know who came into town after us. They may have seen, or killed Bob."
"There was a younger man, came in after you. Had a bunch of mining gear, at that."
This was bad. Someone was giving me away. Goldtooth recognized the description immediately. His eyes widened, and he seemed to be shocked.
"What?..."
I rushed upstairs, grabbed my gear, and left through a back door downstairs, so I wouldn't be spotted. I decide to lay all my cards on the table, ambushing them by Jackrabbit Lake. It was my only chance to get rid of Goldtooth's henchman. I had a plan. After taking care of Goldtooth's henchman at Jackrabbit lake, I would head for Kansas city to catch the train. When the train starts moving, I have until New York City to get my gold back. This was my final day. I hiked for 3 hours, stopping at Jackrabbit lake. I hid all my gear in the tall grass, and waited for them to appear. They appeared an hour later. Goldtooth was looking over his shoulder, and seemed very suspicious. As soon as they turned their backs, I decided to have some fun. I stepped out, and scraped my pickaxe along the ground, creating a metallic rasp. Both the men jerked around.
"Who's there?!" Goldtooth yelled, pulling out his revolver.
Another rasp.
"Show yourself!"
I stepped out of the tall grass, fully in view.
"You!" Goldtooth exclaimed.
I pointed my pickaxe at him, showing that I was coming for my gold. His henchman pulled out a revolver.
It was his final mistake.
As the henchman fired, I grabbed my gold pan, and holding it out in front of me, deflected the bullets away. One bullet deflected back, and grazed Goldtooth's cheek. As I slowly pushed forward, the henchman ran out of bullets. I threw my gold pan, and it hit him in his side, doubling him over. I swung with a strong right hook, and knocked him off his feet. Goldtooth had grabbed his horse, and rode off. I grabbed my pickaxe, and finished the henchman off, dumping his body in the lake. Now, all that was left was to get my gold. I smiled. Onward, to Kansas city!
I wonder if the New York bank would accept the gold?
July 3, 1933
I arrived in Kansas city, a bustling hive of activity, even during the Depression. There were a few signs that this town was suffering. The bank was closed and boarded off, and men were lining up at the job house, and soup kitchen. I walked through town to the train station, getting a few sideways glances. One of the bullets from the henchman had grazed just above my ear. The blood was running down my chin. One police officer came up to me.
"Hey! You there! Stop!"
I turned around, watching him.
"I'm gonna need some identification."
I showed him my purple heart.
"Oh! I'm sorry sir! Say, you got any lincolns, or dough in general?"
I simply stared at him.
"Nevermind. You have a mighty fine day, sir."
I continued walking to the station, and paid for a ticket to New York City. The time for the train to come was a day and a half. I smiled. That meant that the train was in California, and Goldtooth was near here somewhere. Perfect time to formulate a plan.
July 3, 1933, Entry 2
I grabbed my gear, and made my way over to the hotel, and used my mining gear to pay for a hotel room, with 20 dollars left. I gave those 20 dollars to the serving boy, and motioned that he was to tell no one that i was here, especially anyone with a gold tooth. I came to my room, and walked in to find moldy floors, holes in the walls, and a broken pipe directly over the corner of the room. Based on the smell, I could tell it was a sewer pipe. I grimaced, and laid down in bed. Tomorrow was to be a truly busy day. Later, I went down to the dining hall, and had a very meager dinner of tasteless soup, and a piece of stale bread. Others might have been disgusted eating this, but this was common in the army, so I was used to it. I survived for 3 years, eating just this. I retired afterward, and laid down to sleep. My neighbors were quite noisy, and I started hearing the beginning of a fight. I walked down the hallway to find a Ranch-hand harassing a lady. I grabbed his hand before he could strike her.
"Who are you?" he asked me. I could smell alcohol on his breath.
I simply stayed silent, glaring at him.
"You deaf? I asked, who are you?" He was getting mad.
Angered by my silence, he swung a haymaker, I grabbed his fist, twisting and breaking his arm. He cried out, and I grabbed the back of his head, slamming it down onto the table, knocking him out cold. The hall was deathly silent. I nodded at the lady, signaling a good day, and walked into my room.
I slept without interruptions.
July 5, 1933, Midday.
I stood in line, ready to enter the train yard. I had my bag of possessions. In it was one of my most prized possessions. I had a friend who fought in WWI with me, from Honolulu. His father had known a Japanese immigrant, and the immigrant had given him a book about an ancient fighting art, purely Japanese. When my friend's father died, my friend inherited the book. After the war, my friend gave me the book. I studied it, but it seemed very unorthodox, using the legs to kick. It had a name I couldn't pronounce either. The name was Karate. I swore I would only use it if the situation was dire, and I was up against a superior fighter. I caught a glance of Goldtooth. He seemed to be arguing with the railway attendant.
"Sir, I will have to confiscate your revolver."
"Very well."
Goldtooth handed his revolver over, and my task became easier by quite a bit. I simply boarded the train, and headed for my seat in another car. I sat down, and Goldtooth passed by me. His eyes went wide as they met mine. I was discovered. An hour later, the train started up, and we lurched forward. The scenery started blurring past the window. This was a train that went from Kansas city to St. Louis, then from St. Louis to Indianapolis. Then, Indianapolis to Pittsburgh. Then Pittsburgh to Philadelphia. Then, to New York. an hour later, most passengers headed for the dining car, and Goldtooth came up to me, and sat next to me.
"You found gold, huh? Lucky."
I simply glared at him.
"Listen here you little…, you better stop with this rampage. You will go home empty handed, and I'm getting off at Pittsburgh, filthy rich."
I lunged at him, grabbing his throat. After pushing him into the aisle between seats, I slammed him into the opposite window. He started pushing me off, and i realized this man had greater strength than I. Turning around, he swung and caught me across the face. His blow knocked me into the seats. I scrambled to my feet, but his next punch slammed me into the wall, and I realized using standard methods would not help me win. I felt something wet running down my chin, just as I tasted copper in my mouth. The taste of blood. I had to use a different fight style. One that was unseen before, one that could beat anyone unexpected.
I slid my left foot back, and took up the ready stance for Karate.
"What is that thing you're doing? Some sort of defense? It's futile."
Goldtooth swung, and I countered, by using a blocking technique, by lifting my knee, and catching his fist between my knee, and elbow. My strong, sturdy punch leaves Goldtooth gasping, and I use a kick described as a roundhouse, pivoting on my feet and hips, and my foot extending out. I realized that this was very similar to mining, and the attacks I was using were very familiar to my body. Goldtooth was down, and struggling to get to his feet.
"So…you want the gold, huh? Well, there's just one problem. I say the gold is MINE!"
He lunged at me, and I struck him with another roundhouse. This one slammed him against the already weakened window, shattering it.
He realized too late.
'Ah! AAHH!"
Goldtooth tried to hold on to something, as he was leaning out the window precariously. He grabbed onto the chair, and started to pull himself back in…
…just to slam into a tree that had grown way too close to the tracks. With a sickening CRUNCH, Goldtooth was gone. I was left alone with a broken window, and a train car in disarray. I simply grabbed my gold shoulder bags, which had been completely unharmed. I smiled. Time to go home.
July 8, 1933.
I walked into the Hooverville by the Hudson river, my shoulder bags over my shoulder. I had gone to the bank earlier, and given them the gold, and in return, they gave me plenty of money. It was all stored in my shoulder packs, and I headed straight for my parent's shack. They had sent me a letter a year ago, and they told me they would wait. I stood in front of the shack, and pushed open the door. My parents were standing at the table, discussing their funds, and standing next to them, Anna. I smiled, and gave a soft knock on the steel panel that was the door. Both parents turned around, and their faces lit up. Anna's eyes started getting teary. I smiled, and spoke for the first time in 15 years.
"I'm Home."