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DAWN WAS STILL A FEW hours away when Avalon came to the sign announcing the outskirts of Solace. She stopped pedaling and coasted to its base, to rest for a moment. She leaned the bike against the signpost then dug into her back pack to retrieve her flash light. The beam of light washed over the sign. It read “Solace - Gateway To The Stars - Population: “The number was erased and spray-painted over with a skull and crossbones. The sign was covered in graffiti and gang slogans, the most prominent of which was the Firebrand gang, with its signature flames making the sign look as though it was on fire. Avalon smiled. Where the Firebrand gang could be found, she would also find clues to her parents’ fate.
She sat down under the sign then dug into her back pack and pulled out an apple, devouring it in three bites. Apples were her favourite. She could never eat enough apples. She reached in for a second apple, eating this one more slowly, pondering her next move. I could head to the ghetto, and check out every place where the brand was spray painted. Someone would know where the gang’s headquarters were in Solace. But making inquiries in that fashion is a good way to be ambushed and beat up pretty badly, especially if it is the Firebrand gang. They like their privacy. They would not appreciate someone asking questions. No, if the Firebrand gang wanted to speak to you, they initiated the conversation. What I need to find is the place where they exchange information, among other things. Their secure meeting place. It dawned on her that they could have more than one, but in Solace, there would be a primary location. She was hoping that Frankie’s Finger Foods would be that place. Avalon plucked the matchbook out of the side pocket of her backpack and flipped up the cover. Inside was small map, and a pointer in the shape of a hamburger pinpointed the location of the diner. It was located on the east side of town, not far from the road she was currently travelling. The hours listed were 11:00 a.m. to 9:00 p.m., seven days a week. She planned to be there at 6:00 a.m., to scout around and spy out the lay of the land, see who came and went from the place.
Avalon slid the matchbook into a pocket of her jeans, slipped her arms through the straps of the backpack, and headed off down the road.
Dawn found her in the city proper. The drought was no less severe here, than it was in the country or at home at Gainsborough Manor, for that matter. The difference here was that the pavement increased the temperatures by reflecting it back into the air. By noon great waves of heat would shimmer across the surfaces. The increased heat fed the drought and any patch of grass was a crispy carpet of dried vegetation.
The first buildings she came to were all abandoned, their windows broken out, and by the look of it from the roadway, the doors were missing too. She poked her head in the first couple to confirm her theory and noted that anything of value had been stripped out of the buildings. Soulless plaster shells were all that remained as every ounce of copper or metal or plastic had been scavenged from the bones of the building. The cracked stucco exteriors were tagged with graffiti announcing which gangs controlled the various neighbourhoods. Where the territories of the various factions intersected, the tags changed on a regular basis.
There were no vehicles on the street. Parking one in the area was as good as giving it away. Avalon kept a wary eye as the single family homes became duplexes and then row housing, and the density of the number of structures increased. The units in this area of town were occupied, the windows shuttered and curtains drawn to maintain the privacy of those inside. She began to see people on the street, lounging in doorways or sitting on the steps of the brownstone units. Most were boys, her age or a little older, with tattooed arms and chests, hair shaved or left long as they desired. They watched her cycle past them, following her passage with suspicious stares. Avalon kept her head straight, ignoring them, but secretly watched from the corner of her eye to see if they followed. One group got into a heated discussion over her passing. Hands pointed at her but their leader shook his head, and the group of four boys sat back down. With a sigh of relief, she spotted the street she was looking for and turned the corner. A van parked on the side of the road, forced her bike to move away from the curbside. As she swung out around it, five people stepped out into the road in front of her. Avalon braked hard, and as she did, three more stepped off the curb behind her, blocking her in. Avalon skidded her bike to a halt, apprehensively eyeing the approaching teens. They were a mix of boys and girls, in the vicinity of her age. Her eyes darted around the circle, looking for an escape.
“Why are you here?”
The question came from a tall, sandy haired teen, his face hard and unsmiling. A scar from a knife wound puckered his eyebrow, and slid down his cheek. He wore an eye patch, over the eye.
Avalon stared at him, surprised at the wave of pity that washed over her. Despite the wild thumping of her heart as the gang members closed the noose, something about their leader made her pause.
“Is there a reason why I shouldn’t be?” she said, with a false bravado, glancing around at the shuffling bodies closing rank. She let a knife, tucked up inside the sleeve of her jacket slide into her palm, all without taking her eyes from the advancing teens.
“This is Firebrand territory. Only the foolish would enter.”
“Or the really stupid,” said a girl to the leader’s right. She was also tall, with dirty blonde hair braided into one thick rope and slung over her right shoulder. Her lips were pressed together into a thick flat line that transformed her face from acceptable to ugly. Or maybe it was the possessive stance she took in relation to their leader that made her ugly to Avalon.
“She looks stupid, so that must be it.”
The other gang members laughed.
“Where’d you get the bike? Steal it from your little sister? Or just swipe it off of the street? It’s super ugly.”
Avalon ignored her, eyes fastened on the leader, who let the girl ramble on. She had the impression that this was how they did things, the girl provoking the victim until they began the fight, even though outnumbered. He was the only one that mattered. The rest would do nothing without his approval. She focused on the male with the eye patch and pretended the others did not exist. A muscle twitched in his cheek, a hint of a smile. Avalon decided that she had nothing to lose or to hide.
“My name is Avalon. I am not from here. I didn’t know this was Firebrand territory. If you wish, I will leave.”
“Avalon. A stupid name to go with a stupid girl. You are named after a tree? I bet it’s nuts!” The girl snorted at her own joke and the others guffawed along with her.
“Avalon is a mythical world of hope and peace. The name means ‘island’. It is the home of Merlin, and the legendary burial place of King Arthur,” said the boy, his eyes never leaving Avalon. “Don’t you read, Cris?”
Cris’ laugh cut off, her mouth hanging open at the rebuke. She snapped it shut. The gang surrounding Avalon laughed, this time at Cris. An ugly scowl echoed the murderous glare she directed at Avalon, hatred in her eyes.
“Did you not see the markings?” he asked.
“Yes, I saw them. But I needed to travel this way.”
“Why?”
Avalon hesitated. Can I trust this guy? She stared into his lone eye, noticing flecks of green and gold. It stared back into hers. Suddenly he winked and she realized she had been staring at him like a love sick teenager. Avalon mentally winced at her own description. She secured her knife then reached into her pocket and slowly pulled out the matchbook, holding it up for everyone to see. A variety of knives instantly flashed into gang member’s hands at her movements. They held them up to the light, steady and menacing, a visible threat. Avalon’s eyes swept around the group and leaving one open hand in the air, she tossed the matchbook cover to their ringleader. He caught it and opened his palm to gaze at the matchbook. Surprise flicked across his face.
“Where did you get this?” he whispered.
Avalon hesitated again. “I can’t tell you that, but I need to go there. It’s important. I need information.”
He stared at the matchbook, and then stuck it in his own pocket. He sauntered over to where she stood, walking around her and her bike, taking in her appearance. Pausing at her side, he reached out and touched the bee symbol stitched into the sleeve of her father’s jacket.
“Where did you get this jacket?”
Avalon pulled her arm out of his grasp, backing away.
“I didn’t steal it. It’s mine, and I won’t give it up either,” she said with growl, eyes fierce. “I will never give it up.”
He straightened, puzzled by her reaction. Suddenly he spun around and walked away.
“Bring her,” he snapped over his shoulder.
The gang closed in around Avalon and she had no choice. Pushing her bike and ignoring the gang members at her side, she followed the gang leader. The blonde girl fell into step beside him, slipping her hand into his. He did not seem to notice. She turned her head, throwing Avalon a dirty look, full of triumph. The warning could not be clearer. Her murderous gaze screamed stay away, he’s mine!
Avalon didn’t care. She was already plotting how to get away from this annoying gang. She had to get to Frankie’s, and find the Firebrand’s hideout