The Money Trees - Revisited

I had a couple ideas on where to go with this one, but I needed to revise the first part before I get to the rest of it. I’m going to try to write a new part and get it out every Monday from now on.

“Money really does grow on trees, but it’s heavily regulated by the government.”

— Here we go —

Jack panted, pushing himself up the last leg of the trail. He was tired, but still his eyes burned with fire. “Only a few more miles,” he mumbled to himself. “I’ll show her.”

His sister Amy, who had promised they would walk the trail together weeks ago, had bailed out last-minute because of a date with her dumb boyfriend, again. Jack had insisted they could walk the trail and be done long before she would need to get ready, but still, she stayed home.

He glanced at his watch and sped up. He would show her.

Almost an hour passed, but still the trail went on. Jack leaned on a tree and gulped down the rest of his water. He had more in the car, surely he’d be there soon. He set down the trail again.

Another hour passed. The sky was darkening and he seemed no closer to the end. His throat ached with thirst.

He cursed himself for drinking all his water earlier as he dug around in his pack for the map. Surely he’d grabbed one. He dumped everything on the ground. Empty water bottle, change of clothes, really old moldy sandwich.

“Gross.” He threw it out into the trees. A piece of paper! He flipped it over in excitement.

“Last year’s math homework.” He groaned up at the sky. Amy always grabbed the map, he never had to worry about it. He patted his pockets down, discovering he’d even left his phone in the car.

Just then, the alarm on his watch beeped. He was supposed to be at home by now, rubbing his victory in Amy’s face. Yet here he sat, lost on the trail with no clue where he was. But still, he packed all his things in his bag, except the sandwich. The trail had to end somewhere.

—

Jack dragged his feet through the darkness. As he stumbled over a pebble for probably the hundredth time, he wished once more that he’d brought a flashlight, another thing Amy usually brought. “Just in case”, she’d always say.

The moon was just peaking over the trees when he finally saw it. “Lights! People!”

As he got closer, he realized it was some kind of orchard. Even late at night, people swarmed around a bunch of trees, picking them over carefully, dropping what looked like apples into big buckets below. They reminded him of a swarm of vultures, carefully picking the meat off a carcass.

He almost called out to them, but something held him back. He got the strangest feeling that it might be the last thing he would ever do.

So, he stayed in the shadows until the people went away. The lights went out and even a while after, he stayed crouched in the bushes, just waiting.

“What am I waiting for anyway?” he said to himself. “I need to get home.” His stomach rumbled and he looked up at the fruit-laden trees. “They won’t notice if an apple or two goes missing. Right?”

He snuck out toward the trees and grabbed one apple, and another, and another. “I could be out here all night, maybe longer. They’re just apples, any deer could wander up and eat them,” he reasoned.

Once his bag was full and he started to sneak back toward the trees, a flashlight beam splayed his shadow out in front of him.

“Hey you! Stop right there!” A gunshot sounded from behind him, but luckily it had missed by mere inches.

Guns, over apples?!

Not a single thought went through Jack’s mind. He ran. Branches whipped him across the face. He ran. He must have stumbled over a hundred roots. He ran. The guard probably chased after him, maybe he gave up. Jack didn’t care. He ran until he could run no more.

Doubling over, he gasped for breath, trying to be as quiet as he could. He listened, but didn’t hear anyone coming. He strained his ears. Wait, there was something.

“The road!” He followed the noise and found- “My car!” He jumped in, throwing his pack in the seat beside him and drove.

You would think he should have been freaking out. Honestly, he just couldn’t wait to tell Amy. He was almost home but, “Oh crap, gotta stop for gas.”

Soon, he was ready to go again, but the phone in his cup-holder rang. The screen read Butt-head. “Oh, Amy.” He answered, eager to tell her about the crazy adventure of the night. “Amy you’re not gonna believe-”

“Where are you!” She interrupted, very loudly.

Jack held the phone a little further from his ear before answering. “The gas station, next to the waffle place. Why?”

“I’ve been calling since seven! I was getting ready to call the police. Just, get home! You idiot!” She hung up.

He was about to drive out when his stomach rumbled again. He looked over at the dark parking lot of the Waffle Palace, and groaned. But then he remembered, “Oh, apples.” He leaned over and unzipped his bag. “I might as well eat one, since I risked my life and all.”

He took hold of on of the apples without looking. Funny, they really were quite big for apples, maybe a special breed. Still, quite the heavy security for some fruit. He took a bite.

“Blah!” It was the worst apple ever, tasted like sawdust or, paper. But for the first time he looked at what was in his hand. He stared in wide-eyed silence at the pod full of money, dollar bills, all of them, hundreds.

He snatched his bag into his lap. There must have been twenty pods. He cracked several more open. Money spilled onto his lap. He stuffed it all, with the rest of the unopened pods, into the bag and hurried home. Amy would never believe this.

— Here’s Part 2