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When Tock makes a tragic mistake, he decides a life on the street is the only way to keep his family from suffering the consequences. As he navigates his new world order, Tock quickly discovers a tight-knit community who happily accept him as one of their own. To survive, Tock devises a game of paying it forward to ease his newfound Robinhood complex. Along the way Tock is befriended by Angela, who wins over his trust and his heart.This saga of life on the lam, wears a hero's heart on its sleeve to prove where there’s humanity, there’s always hope.
Read an Excerpt from Hopetown
ONE
CAUSE
I’ve lived a fairly charmed life. Some might say I’ve suffered under the guilty weight of white privilege. As much as I could, I shrugged off that status to live without abusing my color and sta-tion. Being born into the upper middle class has its perks, but when you do your best to exist in as “woke” a fashion as possible, those two ideologies tend to clash. Because of that tenuous bond between money and social clarity, my existence has wavered between being a good son to posh parents and being true to a path I’d much rather follow.
I call myself a social justice warrior. It’s not nearly as cool as it sounds. Instead of spending my days and nights fighting a system, rigged against certain cross-sections of society, my friends and I—we called ourselves OUTREACH—mostly attend rallies, doing our best to incite those standing up against the cruelty levied against the masses to war—only not in the violent sense of the word.
OUTREACH was once an acronym. I can’t remember what it stood for, but the meaning of the name—in both the figurative and metaphorical sense—has never been clearer. We brave few reach out to those whose voices have been silenced by the never-ending tide of old, rich, white overlords. Our motto? Fight to live another way: Live to fight another day. It was cheesy as hell, but those we encountered tended to like it. Plus, it made for a great chant.
Today’s agenda was nothing out of the ordinary. Two events were on our radar: A woman’s march for equality and a protest calling out local politicians for trying to cut state protections for members of the LGBTQ community. Both groups were perfectly aligned with our mission. We vowed to stand up against such oppressors and ensure those protesting the insufferably closed minds vying for control of the country were always heard.
We were a megaphone for truth.
“Remember, this is a silent march.” Ashley was the leader of our group. With good reason. The woman exemplified strength and resilience. She’d been beaten, arrested, humiliated … all in the name of fairness and truth. In the years I’d been working with OUTREACH, I’d not once wit-nessed Ashley back down. She was our rock. And by “silent,” Ashley meant “nonviolent”. “There will be a strong contingent of anti-protestors. Do not give into them. You know they’ll do every-thing they can to incite us into battle.”
“We know the drill, girl,” Jenks replied. If a human being could be forged of pure chaos, it would be him. Whenever Jenks was on a mission, you never knew what could happen—which was both a blessing and a curse.
Ashley grabbed Jenks by the arm and pulled him in tight. “Don’t fuck this up. The last thing we need is another stain on our record.”
Jenks yanked his arm free. “Enough with the overly protective bit. This march will go down exactly as all the others have. We’ll jump out of the van, march in lockstep with the crowd, finish a couple of miles down the road, and call it a win. Nothing will have changed, because nothing ever does.”
I couldn’t be certain, but I believe I heard Ashley growl. Jenks must have missed the vocal threat, as he—in typical fashion—refused to back down.
“Jenks, I will pull your ass from this mission if you refuse to comply.”
“Fine.” Jenks nodded. “But until things change in this group, this is my last hurrah.”
Ashley laughed. “If that’s how you feel, get out. We don’t need your negativity.”
Jenks and Ashley fell into a cat and mouse standoff, neither player in the game giving ground or flinching. It wasn’t until I gathered the courage to voice my concern that the tension broke.
“The march is starting.” My voice quivered ever so slightly. “We should probably get going.”
Ashley nodded, opened the door, and gestured for everyone to exit the van. One by one, the members of OUTREACH joined the crowd, instantly picking up on chants and holding signs of protest aloft.
About the Author:
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Jack Wallen is what happens when a Gen Xer mind-melds with present day snark. Jack is a seeker of truth and a writer of words with a quantum mechanical pencil and a disjointed beat of sound and soul. Although he resides in the unlikely city of Louisville, Kentucky, Jack likes to think of himself more as an interplanetary traveler, on the lookout for the Satellite of Love and a perpetual movie sign...or so he tells the reflection in the mirror (some times in 3rd person). Jack is the author of numerous tales of dark, twisty fiction including the I Zombie series, the Klockwerk Movement, the Fringe Killer series, Shero, The Nameless Saga, and much more.
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