by Gary Ten-Hove

While they waited for a victim, Banger Dan instructed his new apprentice in his philosophy of violent street crime.

“They can’t see it coming,” he said.

Muir Halka wondered, what street? He was stamping his feet, freezing his toes off and shivering in his light jacket. They were waiting on the bike path by the river.

Ice floated downstream, glittering in the cold sunlight. A nasty breeze rattled bare brown bushes and leafless branches and cut through Muir’s plastic jacket. Traffic roared thirty feet above them on an immense concrete bridge.

Muir wanted a warm subway station and a cigarette. And a roll of hundreds somebody dropped. Not likely. So he listened and learned.

“Now, you can step in front of some chump and say, ‘Hand it over,’ and what happens?” Banger Dan said.

Banger Dan clearly loved his new role of sensei. He was a big man, much taller and broader than Muir, with long, greasy hair and a perfect movie-star face and teeth, except for a scar he said his mother had given him.

Banger Dan had been there and done that and Muir couldn’t have picked a better mentor. Banger Dan was a teacher who knew his stuff.

“He hands it over?” Muir said. He’d never robbed anybody. Beyond fist fights, drunk driving, and a light-hearted attitude toward the drug laws, he’d always been a good boy. Pretty good.

But now he’d lost his job, sold everything, and was sleeping rough, so it was get by or get clean. Thank God he’d met Banger Dan at the shelter. He wasn’t ever going to be clean, but he knew how to get by and then some.

“Hah!” Banger Dan said. “Usually. But you get an argument, sometimes a fight, always noise. And it takes time. Who’s got time to screw around, wait for the next jogger?”

“So what do we do?” Muir asked.

“Hit ‘em from behind, knock ‘em down, steal their shit and run like hell.”

Was crime that simple? “Sounds kinda –”

“Gutless? We’re predators, man. Big, fast, and strong beats small, slow, and stupid. Law of the streets.”

“Still –”

“Lions don’t eat lions, Muir. They eat bunny rabbits. And here’s one now.”

Thank goodness. Muir knew that the first time was the hardest, and waiting was hard, too, and anyway, Muir’s hands were so cold he could hardly make them into fists.

He would hit, rob, learn, and get off this damn pathway.

A jogger was pounding down the path, a hundred yards away. In winter. Amazing.

“See that?” Banger Dan said. “A guy. Good. Women don’t carry cash. And he’s a little guy.” He flexed his considerable shoulders. “Just meat for us.”

Muir liked that “us.” “Law of the streets,” he said.

The jogger was short and slender, with little round glasses. He was wearing earphones, blue sweats, and a white tee shirt.

Man, didn’t anybody else feel the cold?

The jogger had one of those belly pouches, no doubt with his phone, wallet, and keys in it. Yes!

“What do I do?” Muir asked.

“Watch and learn, Grasshopper. Jump in if you want some fun.” Banger Dan pulled out his phone.

The jogger didn’t seem to notice them and pounded past on the icy path, head wrapped up in his earphones. He was breathing easily, audible even over the traffic. If he noticed Banger Dan, he dismissed him because the man was just looking at his phone, not lurking at all.

The jogger didn’t see it coming.

Banger Dan tripped him, and the jogger fell into the snow and bushes beside the path. His earphones flew off.

Banger Dan pounced, leaping out to kick him. The jogger, on his back, grabbed Banger Dan’s foot and Banger Dan fell on his ass.

The jogger got up, still holding onto Banger Dan’s foot, and Banger Dan kicked at him with his free leg.

The jogger grabbed Dan’s other leg, dropped, and smashed his foot into Banger Dan’s privates. Banger Dan gasped and curled up like a shrimp.

The jogger twisted Banger Dan’s foot hard and now the big man wasn’t going anywhere faster than a crawl.

The whole fight took five seconds.

Muir hadn’t seen that coming.

The jogger pulled out his phone and punched three numbers. He looked at Muir.

“You in or out, kid?”

Muir nodded politely and took off running. Away from the coming cops, away from the jogger, away from Dan, and away from his short career as a criminal. Lesson learned.

Really, Dan was a terrific teacher.

The End