294
A solitary open window, criss-crossed with pitted steel bars, provides the only source of light and ventilation in the cell. Standing on the edge of the wooden bunk you are able to peer through the bars at an alleyway that runs along the rear of the building. But without your weapons, or any other means of dislodging the bars, you cannot hope to escape this way.
An hour later you hear your captors laughing in the corridor outside. A key rattles in the lock and the cell door swings back to reveal a barrel-chested clansman, clad in a suit of black leather, which is adorned with sharpened metal studs. He fixes you with his small, bloodshot eyes and sneers contemptuously.
‘You scoutin’ for the Skulls, ain’t you, boy?’ he says, his hand caressing the butt of a pistol that is holstered on his hip. ‘That ’roach Alcatraz sent you here t’check us out, didn’t he?’ Resentful mutterings fill the corridor outside, urging the beady-eyed clansman to settle the matter by shooting you.
‘Do I look like a Skull?’ you ask, defensively.
‘Maybe not,’ he growls, ‘but if you ain’t a Skull, what you doing nosin’ around Albany?’
You choose your words with care, managing to convince the clansman and his cohorts that you are a loner, desperately short of food and water, who ran across their town by chance and decided to enter in search of supplies. The clansman, who calls himself Manhattan, seems impressed by your story and invites you to join his gang, which is known as the ‘Kickers’. You have little option but to accept his invitation in the hope that once you are released from the cell you will be able to escape.
‘Good!’ snarls Manhattan. He informs his men of your decision and orders them to make preparations for ‘the Rite’. When you ask what ‘the Rite’ is, he narrows his eyes and sniggers. ‘You must earn the right to become a Kicker,’ he says, grimly. ‘You must prove to us that you are worthy.’
