Snake grabbed the dumpster beside him and hauled his body to its feet. He paused, exhausted and wedged between the wall and the dumpster. His tired body seemed too sick and starved to carry him through the cold rain. Snake took a deep breathe and shoved himself all the way to his feet. He stumbled forward and almost into the opposing wall before standing. His body wavered under the effects of his pounding hangover. He patted himself down while he waited for the dizziness to pass. Everything was there and accounted for; jacket, boots, pants, guns, bullets, wallet... that was enough.
Snake looked around trying to get his bearings. There was a diner near by. They were all government owned but he didn't care. Snake was too hungry to care about strolling into a government establishment. Food was first on his agenda and coffee, about six pots of coffee. Snake walked out of the alley on shaking legs but he hid it well, reluctant to show any weakness to the world. Plissken crossed the street making a B-line for the diner. As he stepped over the threshold he took the building in. No blackbellies, good. He tossed his coat in a back booth and slid into it just as the waitress shoved the menu in his face. He handed it back.
"Coffee, just bring the whole damned pot. Pancakes, two eggs, ham, bacon and a glass of orange juice." He looked up at her through the haze of pain. "Oh, and an order of hash browns with cheese."
The coffee came quickly and Snake drank it as fast as the waitress could refill his cup. He started to feel better especially when he saw the tray of food heading toward his table. The twisting in his stomach became painful as the plates were laid out before him. He was unsure where to start. Bacon. He started eating like the starving man he was, cramming the bacon into his mouth and barely chewing before swallowing.
Plissken picked up the syrup eying it like it was gold. He was just about to pour it when he caught a glimpse of a blackbelly uniform reflected in the metal counter.
"Fuck!" Snake looked at the food and then back at the reflection. "Why now?" Snake wondered chugging the orange juice. The blackbelly was slowly moving toward the back, toward Snake's booth. Snake sighed. He didn't want to leave the food. He was still starving.
Snake stood grabbing his coat and hastily throwing it on. His eye lingered longingly on the food. Snatching the ham from the plate he made a dash for the kitchen. Once inside he stood against the cabinets long enough to stuff the ham into his mouth and swallow. The door started to open and Snake ran for the other end of the kitchen and the back door.
"We got Plissken. Diner at the corner of 4th and Maytide." Snake skidded to a halt. The radio call had come from the behind the door. His mind raced and his eye quickly scanned the room. "Fuck, no windows." His eye hit the ceiling and he jumped for the grate ripping it down. He leapt into the opening and slipped into the air shaft. It was tight and claustrophobic. His stomach turned as the hastily eaten food started to mix with the hangover's nausea. Snake swallowed hard fighting the urge to vomit as he crawled through the space that seemed to be closing in before his eye.
Quietly, Plissken approached the grate leading to the outside. The alley below was crawling with blackbellies. He sat up and looked around. There was nowhere else to go, so he remained still taking a moment to deal with the sickness in his stomach and the throbbing behind his eyes. A loud clang rang out in the tiny duct followed by a hissing. Snake glanced wide-eyed down the duct. "Fuck!" They'd thrown a canister off tear gas in to flush him from the space. There was no time and he kicked the grate out without a second of hesitation.
The falling sheet of metal caused panic below. Snake took the chance and jumped down into the alley running right through the cluster of blackbellies. They looked at him dumbfounded, stunned by his presence in their midst. That soon passed and the shooting started. Snake had nearly cleared the mouth of the alley when one of the bullets bit into his calf. Plissken went down hard on the wet concrete. The pain caused his stomach to gurgle and a series of heaves started as he scrambled to his feet. His eye rose as he pushed off of the ground but all he saw was the matte black of a gun barrel and another and another. There were footsteps everywhere.
"Give up Plissken." Snake rolled his eye at the voice. Given the circumstance he didn't have much of a choice. He stood, hands raised. Plissken wished Malloy would come down to talk to him, just so he could vomit on the bastard for interrupting his meal. The bastard never appeared. Not when Snake's hands were shackled nor when they threw him in the van. Snake sat inside still thinking of the hot pancakes sitting back on the diner table.
"Fuck! This sucks." Snake mumbled watching the van doors close and feeling the van begin to bump down the road toward yet another USPF jail facility.