Free as a Jailbird

Chapter 3

It feels as though the sun came up just seconds after my head hit the pillow. It blazes down on me through the cracks in my curtains as if urging me to join it and rise. But I guess I deserve it. I've become nocturnal lately. All of the crews usually make trades during the dark hours, so most of my raids happen at night. I sleep through the day in my cell because I have nothing else to do.

I yawn for what seems like five minutes and try to pull myself up. I'm unsuccessful. I decide falling out of the bed will wake me. My muscles scream at me after having run most of the other night from cop cars and then falling asleep on the concrete floor of a holding cell, but at least I'm awake.

The house is quiet as I collect some spare clothes from the cupboard and chug down milk and an energy bar for breakfast. It's not much, but it's better than the jail food they serve me. That shit tastes like over-dated homemade porridge. I silently thank God for Alice and the blessing she is to me. Just about the only damn blessing I'll ever get.

"You off, are you?" asks a voice from the couch.

I peer across the counter into the living room and discover the voice is Shane's; he'd fallen asleep on the couch, curled up with the throw-rug hanging over the backrest and his hair sticking up in all directions. He looks like Harry Potter on crack. I choke back a laugh.

"Yeah, not that I'd love to see the look on Alice's face when she sees you."

His eyes falter a little. "Yeah ... hope all goes well." He adjusts himself and goes back to sleep.

Same to you Shane, I think to myself, hoping he'd actually fallen asleep watching Law & Order and not the alternative.

Just like yesterday, the air outside is freezing and it nips at the skin of my face like tiny beestings. I shove my hands in the pockets of my sweater and make my way to the bus stop.

When I climb aboard Route 13 eight minutes later, I find the bus to be reasonably empty. It's just the way I like it. I slump in a seat near the back of the vehicle, watching the cars fly past and trying not to be too anxious about my meet with the East crew. Their eccentric leader Jez will definitely not be happy that his package didn't get delivered.

It's probably better to give the East crew some time to cool, I tell myself. Deal with the other problem first. Get it over with.

Oh, I would much rather deal with a temperamental Jez than go where I'm about to go. Not at seven in the morning when I'm tired and don't feel like confrontation with old ... colleagues. But the incident of two nights ago needs to be addressed, so I try and imagine what I'm going to say to the Southbend Bikers when I show up on their turf and blame them for the mix up last night as the bus weaves through traffic. I have no doubt it was their guy who got arrested after the cops showed up and took the both of us in. They must be getting slacker with their member initiation. The guy was a complete twat.

Because it's nearly peak-hour, there's a lot of traffic and I arrive at the south side of the city slower than normal. I slump off the bus and stroll through the empty Ascot Playground. The grass is still covered in a light sheen of morning dew already melting and I tramp straight through it, heading for the alley behind the park.

I can hear their motors rumbling before I make it around the corner. Between the two buildings over five stories high is one of the local hangouts for the Southbend Bikers. I know it well, and it makes me anxious. It's been a long time since I've been around these parts. The Southbend Bikers are feared in this area, so no one will dare cross paths with them here. It's a known spot to avoid at all costs.