Country Lines

Bob's nephew, Ryan was known round the village as a rascal but he was charming and, finding that there was much about his own life that was charmless, to Bob, Ryan was like a breath of fresh air.

Ryan had a favour. Could Bob help deliver a package?

Bob nodded.

Bob's sister, Maggie had warned him not to help Ryan with any "deliveries" but had not expanded into details. Maggie always had been a moaner; lately, she looked her age, rough and wrinkly, black bags like oversized baggage on her dour face. He didn't have much to do with her. Ryan was the only one of his close family who paid him any attention really.

He'd help him out. He had to go to Bristol anyway.

"He'll meet you the back of Specsavers, Unc."

"Do I need to do anything?" Bob asked.

"No, just hand it over." Ryan smiled at his uncle. "Thanks for doing this. I would post it but...you know how crap that is..."

Bob did. He was still waiting for batteries for his hearing aids.

Ryan hesitated when he handed the package over. "Just...well...thanks," he haltingly said, looking sheepish, like he wanted to say more.

Bob dismissed it. It was good to feel useful.

*

Bob walked around the back of Specsavers, with the package for someone called Blaze. Ryan had described him in very loose terms. But he was the only one there, hooded, fidgety and difficult to see in the dark shadows of the alley.

Bob said a cheery "Hello!" and added, "Are you Blaze?"

Blaze jerked and hissed, "Fuck! Keep your fucking voice down, old man!"

Bob, who couldn't hear much, did make out harsh consonants which produced a sense of foreboding.

He stretched his arm out to hand over the package. Blaze took it.

And that's when the shouting started and the dogs rushed in, barking and snarling and Blaze dropped the package and was shinning up the wall, to Bob's surprise, and Bob was approached by a uniformed woman who he couldn't hear at all over the raid.

Very shortly after this incident, Bob revised his opinion of Ryan and developed a great deal more understanding for Maggie.

***

366 words

I had a conversation at work about old men being used as drug runners off the back of a phone call I took and a colleague explained the concept of "Country Lines", how drugs are brought into cities, presumably because the people doing these runs are not under suspicion and so, are less likely to be watched, making it easier for "product" to be distributed and manufactured? I don't know anything about drugs, I am pleased to say but the discussion did spark the idea for a story.

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