~3.5~

Michael’s second prediction of the night came true within a minute, as a man in an old bomber jacket and a faded orange trucker hat came running up the stairs.

“Get whatever you got together and get ready to clear out,” he said. “We’re breaking camp.”

“I was told I could sleep here tonight,” Stephen protested, but Michael held out a hand to silence him.

“What’s happening?” he asked.

“Five of our places got hit in the last half hour,” the man said.

“Gangs?” Michael asked.

“Cops,” the man said. “Cracking down on ’suspected meth labs’.”

“Hold on, I thought tribe didn’t deal drugs,” Stephen said, confused.

“We don’t’,” the man said emphatically. “It’s a load of horse shit.”

“Were the raids coordinated?” Michael asked.

“They happened at the same time,” the man said. “Look, I didn’t come up here to play twenty questions… we’re abandoning our safe houses for the time being. You’d better get downstairs and join a group if you don’t want to get left behind.”

“Group?” Stephen asked Michael as they followed Trucker Hat downstairs.

“Safety in numbers,” Michael said. “We’re being flushed out into the open.”

“You mean tribe is,” Stephen said uncertainly.

“Tribe means you,” Michael said. “Or are you having second thoughts?”

Stephen considered.

“I guess I’m out a place to sleep either way,” he said. “I’ll stick with the group.”

“It’s a shame,” Michael said. “This place would probably be safe as anywhere for the time being.”

“What do you mean?” Stephen asked.

“If the raids were coordinated, it was so that we… or the members of the purported drug ring… couldn’t warn each other,” Michael said. “Whoever gave the police the information must not have given them any more locations. I‘d bet good money that whatever else happens tonight, it won‘t involve squad cars closing in on any of our buildings.”

“You don’t have ‘good money’,” Stephen reminded him.

“Fine, then,” Michael said with a shrug. “I’d bet my grappling hook and blow torch.”