by Stacy
“You…god…damn…hoe.” Carter struggled to get the words out, but just had to insult the bitch.
With Carter prone and seemingly defenseless, the long haired man who had thrown him to the ground had apparently decided he would get in a few kicks too. But this wasn’t the first time some broad had kicked Carter in the nuts, although he wished it was, but at that moment it saved him. The second man was going for his fallen knife and Carter knew he had to even the odds or risk being shanked. As the first man kicked out, Carter caught the man’s foot in midair and twisted. A loud snap erupted from within the man’s ankle.
“My leg, you broke my leg,” the man shouted as he fell back to the concrete.
“It’s just your ankle you pussy,” Carter said.
Calling upon his internal fires, Carter shot flames from his palm like a blowtorch at the fallen knife. The cheap metal burned red hot and the thug reaching for it pulled back his grasping hand to keep away from the biting flames. Carter kept it up, letting the fires melt the blade and handle into a puddle of molten metal. Over his shoulder, Carter heard the telltale click clapping of high heels scuffling across the concrete as the prostitute ran away.
“What the fuck are you guys on?” Carter said as he got to his feet. “Crystal Meth, Sherm, Angel Dust?”
He squared off with the man who was still able to stand.
“You really wanna do this?” Carter motioned to his friend writhing in pain.
“I ain’t tellin’ you shit, User!” The man took a step back as if he meant to run, but Carter reached out with both hands and fire erupted from both palms, shooting flames to either side of the man’s head. The flames hit an invisible wall, rose up and slid down, creating a blockade of fire that reached over head height.
“Okay, okay,” the thug said. “Just quit with the fire shit.”
“Tell me now,” Carter said lifting a fiery finger in the man’s direction.
“It’s new. Some kind of designer drug. Makes you feel like fucking Superman.” The man spilled the beans and Carter listened intently to every detail.
Apparently, some new drug had hit the streets, something he had never heard of before, and Carter thought he had known about, seen, and done them all. The drug was neon yellow, smelled like burnt chemicals, but a few sips and you’re high like a super junkie. Containing the pain tolerance of heroin, combined with the strength and energy of angel dust, this drug was second to none in potency and was equally addicting. It was Carter’s worst nightmare. The kind of drug he had only dreamed of in his days as a drug user, but as a recovering addict it was a hellish reality he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemies.
“Anything else?” Carter asked.
“Yeah, its called Pow.”
“Pow? That’s a stupid fucking name.” Carter could hardly believe he was having this ridiculous conversation. A new designer drug had hit the streets of Seattle, and there were actually people dumb enough to take it.
“They call it Pow, because it hits you like a ton of bricks.”
“I’ll hit you like a ton of bricks. Now take your friend and get the fuck out of here,” Carter said. “And I better not see you wandering these streets again.” Carter prayed that this Pow wasn’t the reason for the vacant look in Barber’s eyes or the cause of his recent outbursts.
Chapter 4
“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.
The sweatshirt sleeve wrapped around Barber’s thigh as a filthy jerry rigged tourniquet was soaked in his own blood. The windows were fogged from all the heavy breathing going on inside the car, making their treacherous drive all the more dangerous.
“We’re almost there,” Carter said, but Barber wasn’t sure if Carter was telling the truth of if he was just saying that to make him feel better. Lying on his back, all Barber could see through the side window were the tips of fir trees rushing past one after the other, but as the car began to buck over potholes, Barber knew they had gone from the smooth pavement of the main road to the bumpy gravel driveway of the compound.
“Open the gate! Open the god damn gate!” Carter shouted as he burst out of the front seat.
Things went fuzzy again, but the next thing Barber knew, he was in Carter’s arms, and they were hurtling across the compound yard.
“What the hells going on out here?” And despite his current state, Barber recognized the sour tone of Walt, a voice he could pick out from a crowd of thousands.
“Get Doc,” Carter said. “Get him now!” Carter didn’t wait for anyone to offer to let him in. He just burst through the door leading into Doc’s office and laid Barber on the bed.
“What happened?” Doc asked as he came down the steps. “What’s going on?”
“He’s been shot,” Carter said. There wasn’t the look of shock on his face that one might expect when presented with a gunshot victim, Doc was too used to dealing with severe injuries at the compound. Walt on the other hand was sweating and clenching his jaw from the stress of seeing his protege in such pain.