Off the Wagon (Users #2) (4 page)

“Where have you been?” Barber asked. “Out fighting crime again?”

“Yup,” Carter said closing the door behind him. “Someone has already replaced Fox.”

That was the thing about drug suppliers though, it was like cutting the head off of a hydra, take one out and two more pop up to take its place. There were always plenty of lower level scumbags just itching to move their way into a new and bigger territory. But this one had gone above and beyond, bringing in a new and very dangerous drug to the streets of Seattle. One which had the potential to be deadly for those using it and those they came into contact with in their enhanced state. Carter meant to find out who had taken on this new role and what this new shit was exactly, before it ran rampant through the city.

“You ever heard of a drug called Pow?” Carter asked.

“What? N-no,” Barber answered diverting his eyes to the floor.

“You sure?” Carter asked.

“What are you some kind of detective now? Didn’t the All Americans throw you out of their little club?” The kid was back to playing his stupid video games.

“What’s with all the god damn questions? I just walked in the door,” Carter said changing the subject. He tossed his duffel bag in the corner.

“When are you going to take me with you?” Barber asked his tone turning serious, his eyes boring into Carter.

“You really want to go?”

“Yes.”

“Then finish your damn homework.”

*****

Having found the proper motivation to get the kid to do his homework, Carter found himself one night later, once again brooding on a rooftop. Only this time he wasn’t alone. Barber crouched on the roof’s edge, looking down at the alley below.

“What are we doing up here anyway?” Barber asked.

“Waiting,” Carter answered.

“Waiting for what?” Barber got up and leaned back against a brick chimney stack.

“You wanted to come. Now be quiet.” Carter’s tone was a bit harsher than he had intended, but the kid was seriously getting on his nerves.

Barber let out a heavy sigh. Like any typical teenager would, Barber was having trouble with the inaction of their stakeout, but Carter needed silence. It was the little things that caught his attention. The sounds of the city echoed through the alleyways and over the roof tops. The lapping waters of the Puget Sound beyond the docks, the cackling of drunks emptying the bars in Pioneer Square, the puttering engines of eco-friendly cars rolling down First Street, were all typical of Seattle.

Out of the corner of his eye Carter saw the light as Barber whipped out his cell phone to update his Facebook status. Just as he raised his phone for a selfie, Carter slapped it right out of his hand.

“What the fuck, dude?” Barber asked.

“What the fuck, yeah, what the fuck?” Carter repeated. “What do you think you’re doing man? Put that shit away, we’re on a stakeout. It’s like fishing. If you cause a commotion, you’ll scare away the fish.”

Barber acknowledged him with a half pissed, half confused look.

“Just use your head kid. We don’t want every criminal to know we’re up here waiting for them,” Carter responded.

Even though Carter was distracted, he was subconsciously listening attentively for something else, and he caught a faint, familiar sound off in the distance.

“Hush, shh,” Carter instructed, placing his finger over his mouth and refocusing his attention to the task at hand.

And there it was, the jabbering mumble of a tweaker, probably talking to himself about how amazing his fix would be, the telltale sign of a drug deal about to go down in the city, and Carter was ready to pounce.

Then he saw it. Two streets down, where Pike meets Second Street, a junkie Carter recognized all too well nodded across the street to a thug in a puffy jacket. The thug nodded back, giving him the signal to approach.

“There,” Carter pointed at the pair across the street from one another.

Barber, having grown up on the streets, was also no novice to the language of drug culture.

“It’s going down,” Barber said with a hint of excitement.

“Yes, yes it is, but not the way they’re expecting. Let’s go,” Carter said.

Together, they traversed the fire escape down to the alleyway and made their way onto the busy street. This was going to be tricky, unless they could find someway to coerce both men into an alley somewhere. The street was brightly lit, and the cars so numerous, they might as well have been going after them in broad daylight.

“Which way did they go?” Barber asked as they emerged from the dark alley.

At first, Carter couldn’t pick them out through the throng of people walking the street, but then he spotted it. The puffy jacket gave the drug dealer away.

“They went this way.”

Carter led Barber through the crowded sidewalk of people milling about, mostly waiting for the bus, until they were within steps of their prey.

“Hang back. I’ve got this,” Carter whispered to Barber.

“But, I want to help,” Barber said.

“Just hang back, I’ll signal you if I need help.” Carter side stepped out of the way of an oncoming couple headed their way.

“Fine.” Barber agreed like a petulant child, but Carter barely heard him. He was focused solely on the task at hand.

Carter let the two men get a few more steps ahead, letting them put some space between them and a crowd of people, before he tapped the thin, scraggly looking one on the shoulder.

“Still haven’t learned your lesson,” Carter said and the rail thin man with sparse facial hair turned slowly to regard him.

“Oh, no.” The man’s eyes went wide as the junkie, who had taken Carter to see Big the night of the police raid, recognized him.

“When did they let you out?” Carter asked.

“Out? Out of where?” The drug dealer in the puffy jacket asked before turning to Carter. “And who the fuck are you?”

“Oh, you didn’t tell him?” Carter over-dramatically eyed the man up and down, putting on his best show for the dealer. “Your friend here got popped not too long ago by the cops.”

The drug dealer took a step back from them both, assessing the situation.

“Naw, man it’s cool. I ain’t no rat,” the addict waved his hands across his body before raising them up to assert his innocence.

“Man, get the fuck outta here!” The much bigger drug dealer shoved the skinny little tweaker and the poor man crashed up against a parked car.

“Woah!” Carter heard Barber from over his shoulder.

Dozens of heads from the bus stop snapped around to watch the commotion. The junkie lay there unmoving, and for a second Carter thought he may just be dead, but then the man groaned and lifted his head.

“Now, get out of here,” Carter said to the junkie, who was slow to get up. “Before you get yourself seriously hurt.”

“Thanks for the heads up, man. Good lookin’ out,” the drug dealer nodded. “Now what can I do you for?”

“I wanna know where you’re getting your Pow?” Carter asked.

The drug dealer looked at him as if he were out of his mind.

“You’re joking right,” he said, shaking his head. “You can’t be serious with this shit.”

“Serious as a heart attack.”

“Man I’d like to help, but there just ain’t no way.”

“Listen man, this Pow’s no joke. It’s going to kill someone. You tell me what I want to know or I’m going to bring the heat down on you,” Carter said.

The drug dealer probably assumed Carter meant the cops, which he didn’t, but either way it seemed to scare him a bit.

“I get it from a guy down by the docks,” the man said.

“What’s his name?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, man. Just give me a name,” Carter pressed the man for the information he needed.

“Why do you care if a handful of junkies end up dead?”

“Because, I used to be one of them. Now just give me the damn name,” Carter said.

Barber brushed up against Carter as he passed. Carter tried to stop him, but the kid was young, sprightly, and just a hell of a lot faster than he was.

“He said to give him a name!” Barber grabbed the drug dealer by the collar of his puffy jacket with one hand and lifted his fist under the man’s chin with the other.

“Barber, no!” Carter yelled, but again he was too late. Barber growled as the spike on the back of his wrist popped out through his skin. The pointed tip rose until it nearly nicked the bottom of the man’s chin.

Then everything happened in a flash. The drug dealer reached for something under his jacket, but Carter was more worried about what Barber may do. He couldn’t have the kid killing someone on his watch. Carter went for Barber’s hand with the spike, grabbed it, and pulled it away.

A loud bang went off right next to Carter’s ear followed by a pulsating ringing from inside his head. The men and women walking the crowded street ducked. Some got all the way down, lying flat against the concrete with their hands over their heads. A woman holding a baby sheltered it within her protective arms and turned her back to the commotion. Suddenly the weight of Barber’s arm was extremely heavy. Carter looked down to find Barber on the ground clutching his leg and a bloody hole that appeared to be a gunshot wound. The smell of sulfur and smoke filled the air. Carter turned to the drug dealer, whose eyes were wide with terror. The man’s jaw hung slack. In his right hand was on an all black handgun, hanging loosely from his grip as if the man was holding a dead rat or something.

“Oh, shit,” Carter said to himself.

He had gotten all three of them, Carter, Barber, and the drug dealer into a heap of shit. Carter reacted on pure instinct, grabbing the barrel of the gun, and ripping it from the man’s hand.

“I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” the drug dealer muttered before he turn tail and ran.

Not sorry enough to stay and help obviously, he thought.

Carter wanted to go after him, but a voice at his feet cried out in pain.

“My leg. Oh, my god. My leg,” Barber cried. There were tears pouring down the young man’s face. “I don’t wanna die.” Blood was spurting from the open wound like someone had just released a backed up hose. He had to do something, and now.

“This is going to hurt,” Carter said placing a hand on Barber’s thigh.

“What’s going to hu-” But Barber started screaming before he could finish his sentence as Carter shot fire right into the hole in Barber’s leg.

“What the fuck was that!” Barber howled.

“I had to cauterize the wound.” Carter ripped the sleeve from his sweatshirt and wrapped it tight over the bullet hole.

“We gotta get you to a hospital,” Carter said.

“No!” Barber said. “No hospital. Take me to Doc. I wanna see Doc.” Of course the kid wanted to go back to the compound, his safety zone, but Carter couldn’t disagree. As much as he wanted to avoid Walt at that moment, he knew that the hospital would ask questions. Questions that Carter didn’t want to answer.

Carter stepped out into the street in front of a silver Toyota, and with his sweatshirt already ruined, he lit up his body from the chest up. The driver tried to swerve, but there was too much traffic. A dump truck blocked him from changing lanes, and the driver slammed on the brakes at the last second, skidding to a stop just inches from Carter’s legs.

“Get out of the car,” Carter said.

Stunned the driver, an old woman with gray hair, just sat there.

“I said get out!” Carter shot flames onto the hood of her car. The woman squealed and jumped out of the car as fast as her wrinkled old body could manage. She almost got hit by a sports car that was speeding in the opposite lane. The old bag shuffled for her life on weak knees, out of the street, and up onto the sidewalk.

Carter scooped up Barber as gently as he could and placed him in the back seat of the car. He sped away for the edge of town as fast as the Toyota Tercel could handle. He didn’t bother to stop for red lights or stop signs. He had to get Barber to Doc or the kid was going to die.

Chapter 5

Barber lay in the back seat bleeding all over the upholstery of a stolen car, convinced he was going to die.

“Hang in there!” Carter shouted as he reefed on the steering wheel to make a tight corner at top speed. “We’re almost there.” Barber’s vision blurred in and out, the outlines going fuzzy, then crisp once again.

“I don’t want to die,” Barber said.

“You’re not going to die,” Carter said, but his words seemed hollow to Barber’s ears. There was only a hint of trepidation in Carter’s tone, but it was enough to set alarm bells ringing for Barber.

“I never even met my mom or dad,” Barber said. “I never even looked for them.”

“Quit talking like that god damn it! You wanna find them? I’ll help you look, just hang in there,” Carter said. Barber screamed in terror as Carter, driving down the middle of a two lane road, had to swerve to avoid an oncoming car. The other car’s horn blared as they skimmed past unharmed, but severely rattled. Carter was shaken, Barber could see that plainly, even in his near delirious state. No one drove like Carter was driving unless that person was severely worried.