Users

by Stacy Buck

  "Um...okay. Thanks for sharing Carter," Vince said in a desperate attempt to breathe life back into the room. The group needed to be resuscitated. Carter had nearly killed it.

  The absolute lack of a response from the group had him sweating. He ran a hand through his dirty blond hair. Were they not going to help him? What happened to the hug it out, do anything for you, we got your back group he remembered? The N.A. Users used to be thick as thieves, but times change. His heart raced in his chest as panic set in. He had just made a fool of himself, and to top it all off, it was probably for nothing. The vein on the side of his pounded. Carter reached into his sweatshirt pocket and pulled out his bottle of Xanax, pressed down on the cap, and dropped a pill into his sweaty palm. Without taking so much as a sip of water, he popped the pill into his mouth, and swallowed.

  Carter closed his eyes and took a deep breath as the meeting continued on without him. He could hear the next User going on about some relapse he had the other day, but Carter wasn't really listening. When he finally looked up, his eyes locked with the grizzled old man sitting next to him. The old man had about three days worth of scruff on his face and neck. Long chiseled lines ran down his leathery skin. His gaze was hard as stone and his eyes were the color of sapphires. He had gray hair cut tight on the sides and buzzed on top like a good soldier should.

  "What the fuck is your problem?" Carter asked.

  The old man's lips turned up in a smirk as he just turned and looked away. Apparently the old man knew something he didn't, and Carter wasn't eager to find out what that was.

  #

  Chapter 10

  The meeting ended shortly after Carter's panic attack. He lingered back, letting the room empty out while he steadied himself, and let his medication kick in. Slowly, he rose from his seat and ambled his way to the door. Beneath a slumped awning directly in front of the building, a group of users took refuge from the pounding rain and smoked like chimneys. No one smoked like recovering addicts, no one.

  The haze of smoke was so thick it almost singed the hair from Carter's nostrils.

  "Well Carter," Vince said between a smooth drag of his cigarette. "Long time no see."

  "Yeah, man. Long time," Carter said.

  "Didn't think we'd see you around here again," another man, Carter recognized as Cody, said.

  Cody was a Changer of some renown. It was said he could change a quarter into a Buick.

  "Hey, Cody. Good to see you man," Carter said taking a step back, but it was too late.

  Cody was already on him, wrapping Carter in a big bear hug. Carter reciprocated halfheartedly, but Cody made up for it with his enthusiasm, patting Carter on the back hard twice. Vince, Cody, and a handful of others that stood before him were some of the most powerful users outside of the All Americans, and they made up this N.A. group. Attracted to one another, like magnets to metal.

  "We were worried you had fallen off the wagon," Vince said.

  "Nope, five years and going strong," Carter said.

  "What about that medication I saw you taking during the meeting?" A gruff voice from over Carter's should asked.

  "Taken only as prescribed," Carter lied, looking back to see the gruff man in the army fatigues standing behind him menacingly. Carter took it as prescribed, except when it suited him to abuse them, which was often.

  "Then why haven't you been showing up for any meetings?" Cody asked.

  "I've been outta town until only recently," he lied again.

  He didn't like it, lying to them like that, but he couldn't have them finding out that he didn't want to be here, no matter what.

  "But I'm back now and I need your help with something."

  "Anything for a brother," Vince said, and Carter could find no sign of deception in his tone. "Just ask and we'll make it happen."

  "I need a place to lay low for a bit. Alaric will be looking for me, looking to kill me."

  "Well that's easy. There's only one place to go if you're looking to hide. The Fortress."

  He must have had a down right dumb-ass look on his face right then, because they all laughed at his confusion.

  "The Fortress? What's the Fortress?" he asked.

  "The Fortress is a compound out on the edge of town, past the city, holed up in a thick grove of trees," Vince said.

  "The General has a house out there with cabins for users on the mend. Mostly kids trying to get off the junk, but some times guys just need to get away, and it's the safest place for people like us," Cody said lighting a new cigarette with his old one before tossing the old butt in an ashtray.

  "Who's the General?" Carter dared ask, but he had a good idea who the man was before he even spoke the first word.

  "He's right behind you." The gruff voice from over his shoulder spoke again.

  Of course he is. That was exactly what Carter was afraid of. Carter turned to properly introduce himself to the old man.

  "Name's Carter," he said extending a handshake to the General.

  "I remember." Was all the General had to offer, he didn't even extend a hand back to Carter.

  "Okay...," he said letting his voice trail off. "Can I talk to you alone for a moment Vince?" Carter asked.

  "Sure," Vince said.

  Together they stepped back just inside the door.

  "Is there anywhere else I could stay? Anywhere at all?" Carter asked once the door was firmly shut and he was sure no one outside could hear him.

  "Sorry man. The Fortress is going to be the best place for you," said Vince with a smirk.

  "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Carter asked.

  "Nothing. It's just that we don't see you for years and you show up asking for help...trust me. The Fortress is the only place."

  "But what about this General? Is he serious with that shit?"

  "That's just a nickname man. I don't think he even was a general. He was a Sniffer for the military though, and a damned good one from what I heard," Vince said. "There are rumors that he's even the one who located Osama Bin Laden."

  "Oh, that's just great." A Sniffer was the last thing Carter needed right then. A Sniffer could take one whiff of an object and see its history. All a Sniffer needed to do was smell your toothbrush and he would know the last time you brushed your teeth, where you brushed them, and how many times. If the general used his powers on Carter, there would be no hiding that he had not been out of town, that he didn't truly want to be here, and that it was all a lie.

  Again Carter was faced with a no win situation. He was going to have to risk it. What alternative did he have?

  "Okay, I'll go to the Fortress," he said.

  "Don't worry man. The General is a retired vet. He saw action in both Gulf wars, did a tour in Afghanistan. He was a hard drinker after the war, but he's been sober for over a decade, and he knows how to help guys like us. He'll whip you into shape in no time."

  "Well that's comforting," Carter said sarcastically.

  *****

  The ride to the edge of town seemed to go on forever. Rain beat down against the foggy windshield of the General's beat up pickup truck in what seemed a never ending stream. The pair drove in silence, neither offering more than the occasional cough or grunt the entire trip.

  Having left the skyscrapers, condos, and department stores far behind, Carter saw a part of the city he had never seen before. Towering trees replaced the skyscrapers and fields of wet grass surrounded them on both sides of the two lane road. There were no street lights out here, only the faded round beams of the trucks headlights to show them the way. It was like something out of a bad horror movie and Carter wondered if he was about to be the star in the Northwest's version of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

  Finally, when he couldn't take the silence anymore, Carter built up the courage to ask the General his real name.

  "Name's Walter, but I hate the name, so Walt or the General works just fine," Walt said. The old man stared straight ahead as he spoke, never bothering to take his eyes off the road to look over
at Carter. This guy was all business and Carter thought he hated him. No, he was sure of it. Something about the old man's no nonsense attitude just irked the hell out of him. Carter didn't ask anymore questions the rest of the way. If the old man wanted silence Carter was going to give it to him.

  They passed through an exceptionally thick grove of pine trees down a winding road that turned from pavement into dirt. Carter and the General were jostled around in the truck as they passed over a series of potholes before turning off the road and down a one lane driveway. Overgrown bushes and branches scraped at the side of the truck as they approached a ten foot high wooden gate made of standing logs. The tips of the logs were sharpened to a point, an obvious deterrent to keep anyone from jumping the fence. Carter wondered if that was to keep people out, or to keep the Users in.

  "Hey, slow down!" Carter yelled as the General barreled on down the road, not slowing in the least as they approached the gate.

  Carter, convinced they were going to crash, clenched his butt cheeks tight and gripped the oh shit handle above the passenger side window, but the doors swung wide at just the right moment.

  "Calm down youngster," Walt said with a telling smirk.

  The old bastard was getting his kicks by torturing him, Carter was sure of it. They rolled to a stop, but Carter didn't get out of the truck until the gate was securely closed behind them. Looking over his shoulder, Carter watched as pair of figures, one on each door, pushed the two doors together and threw a brace bar behind them. Vince was not joking when he said this place was safe. It was locked up like Fort Knox.

  Freed from the truck, Carter was able to take in the compound in its entirety. A high fence made of wooden poles that matched the gate ran the length of the property. It was well past twilight, but Carter could still see the massive fence clearly against the cloud covered sky. To his left was what looked like a log cabin, except much bigger. It was a full three stories tall, built into the side of the hill, with a long deck running its parameter.

  "That there's the big house," Walt said.

  Carter nodded in agreement. It indeed was a big ass house. To his right were the smaller cabins. They were tiny, the exact opposite of the big house. Carter peered through the window of one of them and saw only a single room with a cot and a rolled up sleeping bag, but there were dozens of the cabins littering the property. Beyond the cabins was a thick copse of trees. Carter couldn't see way lay beyond that, only that the fence went on and so did the trees, farther than he could see.

  "General." A young man, maybe not even a man, the boy only looked about fifteen or sixteen, ran up to Walt to take his bag from him.

  "This here is Barber," Walt said.

  The boy nodded politely to Carter before turning for the big house with an armful of Walt's bag. In the center of the compound was a blazing campfire surrounded by wooden benches. Users, young and old, sat in a circle around the fire.

  "You going to join us?" Walt asked motioning to the fire.

  "Naw, I'm kind of tired."

  "Barber will show you to your cabin then." And before he even finished speaking the young man came running out of the big house and over to them.

  "This way," Barber said leading Carter toward a cabin along the wall.

  The door creaked open as Barber entered the room, leaving the door open behind him for Carter. He stepped in and took an inventory of the cabin. It didn't take long. There was next to nothing to look at. A single window with a view of the big house, the door, and four walls were pretty much all there was to see. Carter ran a hand along the cot testing its firmness, it was stiff as a brick, but Carter was exhausted.

  "Hey, what's with the bonfire anyway?" Carter asked as he unrolled the sleeping bag.

  His question was met with silence. Carter turned to repeat the question to Barber, but the boy was nowhere in sight.

  Carter sighed and closed the door.

  #

  Chapter 11

  That night Carter had a dream about using drugs. He often had dreams of smoking pot or drinking, but this was different. Vivid images of cooking heroin on a spoon, the bubbling black tar, the flick of the lighter, it all seemed so real. He was back in his dingy apartment, alone and afraid. He waited for that sweet release as he drew the obsidian colored liquid into the syringe. Without tying off, he slapped a vein and plunged the needle into his skin with methodical precision. Carter drew back until he saw a swirling mix blood and heroin in the syringe. Confident he was on a vein, he slammed down the plunger.

  The dope rushed through his veins like water through the roots of a tree. His skin tingled, his head went light, and he fell back onto the bed. A ringing, quiet at first, grew louder by the second until it was ear piercing. He heard it inside his head. It resonated through his entire body. It was tearing him apart. He tore at his skin in an attempt to free whatever was pulling him apart. He thrashed about and fell off of the bed.

  He hit the hardwood floor face first and was abruptly jolted from his dream world and back into reality. But the ringing in his ears did not diminish. The sound buzzed in his chest, reverberating in his lungs. He struggled, but finally managed to free himself from the sleeping bag. He burst out the door to his cabin and into, what would have been for a non Scorcher, the bitter cold, but it didn't bother him in the least. What did bother Carter was the General, standing atop the deck of the big house, ringing a massive bell.

  "What the fuck is going on here!" Carter shouted, but Walt either couldn't hear him or more likely didn't care, and he just ignored Carter's outrage.

  Much to Carter's surprise the entire camp was up, dressed, and standing at attention in front of their cabins. Worse still, in his rush Carter hadn't bothered to put any pants or shirt on, and was now standing in his underwear in front of God and everyone.

  "Son of a bitch."

  The sun had not even begun to crest the horizon. The sky was a mix of sparse clouds with a pink background.

  He marched angrily back into his cabin and slammed the door behind him. The bell stopped its ringing almost immediately after he had closed the door behind him, and having no desire to be up at this unholy hour, Carter scooped the sleeping bag from the floor and crawled back into bed.

  He pulled the sleeping bag tight around his face and was just about to fall back asleep when a loud bang erupted from the door of the cabin. Before Carter could open his eyes he was lifted free from the cot and banged his hip on the cabin floor.

  "What the hell!" he roared and thrashed, but he was trapped in his sleeping bag as he was dragged across the floor, out the door, and across the lawn where he was unceremoniously dropped on the dew covered grass.

  "What the fuck is your problem?" Carter asked as he erupted from the bag.

  Waiting for him was Walt. The general got nose to nose with him.

  "Everyone does the exercises," Walt growled.

  "Why?" Carter asked plainly.

  "Because it clears the mind and cleanses the body. It washes the body of any lingering toxins¸" Walt explained.

  "I've been sober for five god damn years!" Carter yelled, not backing down in the least.

  "Everyone does the exercises." Walt said again.

  "God damn it!"

  Carter stomped back into the cabin and threw his pants and shoes on. He stomped back out just as everyone else was getting in line across the yard in front of the big house. He took a place at the very back of the group. Walt began spouting off commands like some kind of Drill Sargent. Shouting for them to do push ups, sit ups, and all kinds of different calisthenics. Worst of all, Walt paced the lines eying them like a hungry dog staring at a meal.

  "What the fuck is your problem?" Carter asked when Walt finally came around for a pass on him.

  "Don't got no problem," Walt said.

  "Then why do I gotta do the exercises?"

  "You don't want to do the exercises?"

  "No."

  "Then you don't have to. The gates that way," Walt said pointing to the front gate.
"See yourself out."

  And he didn't wait around to see if Carter was coming or going. Walt just kept on walking. Carter grumbled under his breath, but he stayed in line with the others and did the god damn jumping jacks.

  *****

  Later that afternoon, when the sun was at its highest point, Walt came out from the big house to grace them with his presence once again. Carter, still exhausted from the rigorous workout from earlier that morning, lounged with his back against one of the logs around the now empty fire pit. Walt's face was scrunched up in disgust as he approached from across the yard.

  "Get up," Walt said without breaking his stride.

  "Exercises again?" Carter asked dreading the general's response, but Walt didn't answer.

  The gray haired old man just kept on walking, heading toward a sandy hole in the ground. Carter rose to his feet, dusted off his jeans, and sauntered on over to the pit.

  "Gather round," Walt hollered.

  The other users nearby trotted over and circled the hole. The user next to Carter was wearing a wry grin. Then he took a good look around and noticed that many of the users present wore shit eating grins. More and more users came out of the wood work, appearing from within the trees and running out of their cabins. Apparently this was something they didn't want to miss, but Carter couldn't figure out what was so special about a fucking hole in the ground.

  "Get in the pit," Walt said cocking his head to stare Carter in the face.

  "You talking to me?" Carter put a finger to his chest.

  "Yes, get in the pit."

  "Why?" Carter asked.

  "Get in the pit," Walt repeated a third time.

  "Fine, whatever. I'll get in the damn pit." Carter half stomped half slid down the sandy pit.

  The hole was shaped in a circle and concaved like an upside down dome.

  "Okay, I'm in your pit. Are you happy?"

  "Barber?" Walt asked.

  "Yes, sir?" Barber appeared beside Walt like an obedient dog.