Sendoff for a Snitch by KM Rockwood Read Free Book Online Page B

something stupid or dangerous.

    The shrilling of the alarm pulled me out of a deep sleep. Tough to get going, but I didn’t mind. I’d never been able to sleep solidly like that in a prison cell, surrounded by the nighttime noises made by the mass of miserable, incarcerated humanity.
    Worst was the frequent “scrape, scrape, scrape” of someone sharpening a scrap of metal on the concrete into a shank. If a CO unlocked the grid and came on the tier, that sound would cease immediately and be replaced by boot steps and jangling keys. It would begin again when the grid slammed shut behind the departing guard.
    And there was always the scents—too many people in too small a space without adequate access to showers and clean clothes—that was never quite masked by the industrial strength disinfectant.
    I shut the alarm off and lay there for a few seconds, appreciating my solitude and gathering my courage to get up into the cold. Of course the heat was off.
    If I fell back asleep, I risked being late for work. I swung my feet out from under the pile of blankets and onto the floor.
    Into several inches of icy water.

Chapter 4
    T he water soaked right through my socks, and it was freezing.
    I reached over and hit the light switch. The overhead light flickered, but came on. Just as I touched the switch, it occurred to me what a dumb thing that was to do. This was an older, poorly maintained building. In the best of circumstances, the wiring was questionable. By no means could this be considered “best of circumstances.”
    The apartment had only two electric outlets, and both of them were situated low on the wall near the floor.
    And here I was, standing in a few inches of water while I fooled around with an electric switch. Was I trying to electrocute myself?
    The light steadied, and I was still alive. Water was seeping in from under the front door. Maybe the drain outside was blocked. I sloshed over and opened it to take a look. A higher wall of water surged in.
    More water cascaded down the steps. Shivering, I reached through the murky, foul-smelling mess and felt for the drain covering. It not only wasn’t blocked, but water seemed to be rising out of it. I shut the door, and the surge became a seep once again.
    I went to my single window and peered out. The window was only inches above ground level, and it looked out into an alley that ran beside the building. The security light over the dumpster revealed a flowing stream of water headed toward the street. If it got any deeper, it would start leaking in around the window, too.
    Looking around in despair, I wondered if I was going to lose everything I owned. The apartment had come furnished, so I really didn’t have that much of my own stuff to lose, but I couldn’t afford to replace what I did own.
    And if the apartment was flooded, where was I going to stay?
    First things first. I went to the wobbly dresser along one wall and pulled out all the clothes I owned. I also took my small stash of cash—it was just about $100 now—and shoved that in my pocket. I also grabbed an unopened package of four tiny flashlights attached to flimsy key rings. I’d seen them at the dollar store and gotten two packages. The power in the apartment was not one hundred percent reliable. The flashlights only gave a pinprick of light, but it was a bright light and a whole lot better than total darkness.
    No question I would be going to work. An overtime shift like tonight paid time and a half. No point in staying here and missing out on that. So the question was, what could I do with my stuff?
    The socks I was wearing were completely soaked, and I knew working all night with wet feet would be a nightmare. I took a rolled-up pair of dry woolen socks and put them in my lunch box, next to my sandwiches. I added a clean, dry set of underwear, then folded a pair of blue jeans on top. The lunch box wouldn’t close. I set it aside for now.
    Taking the rest of my clothes, I put them in one of the