Users: Book 2 (A Superhero Novel) Off the Wagon

by Stacy Buck

  “Yeah, I tried it too. I was higher than a mother fucker,” the third boy said.

  Barber finished his business, zipped up, and turned toward the sinks.

  “Excuse me,” Barber said politely.

  “Hey, ain’t you new here?” the dark haired boy with the twig arms asked.

  “It’s my first day. Why?” Barber asked.

  “Don’t worry. We ain’t gonna haze you or nothing,” the jock said. “Just wondering if you get down?”

  “Get down?” Barber asked as if they were speaking a different language. The boys looked skeptically at one another in turn.

  “Yeah, do you get high?” the jock asked.

  “I have before,” Barber admitted. In truth he had got more than just high, he had been a full fledged heroin junkie. This was the kind of scenario that gave an ex-junkie nightmares. It was the kind of situation that would wake Barber up in cold sweats. He knew the inevitable question that was coming before the other boy even spoke it.

  “You wanna try some Pow?” the jock asked. “It’ll make you feel like a superhero.”

  Barber almost laughed aloud, but managed to stifle his outburst. These guys were oblivious to the fact that he was a User, and he needed to keep it that way.

  “Naw, I don’t think so,” Barber said. He tried to remember the steps he had learned, tried to dig deep in his bag of tools to find something to keep him from making a big mistake, but this was his first opportunity to do drugs since he had sobered up. He didn’t know how he would react up until this exact moment. He had done the right thing telling them no, but he knew too what was left to come.

  “Come on man,” the jock said. “This shits brand new and better than any of that garbage you’ve messed with before.” They started in with the peer pressure.

  “What’s it called again?” Barber asked.

  “Pow. It’s like a cross between every drug you’ve ever tried all wound up into one ball.” The jock pulled a bottle from his jacket pocket and extended it to Barber.

  “Just take a swig,” the boy with the dark wavy hair said. “It only takes one. It makes the time in class fly by.”

  The boys were saying all the things that Barber’s addict brain wanted to hear. It was right there in front of him. He only needed to reach out and grab the bottle. After that, it would be easy. Barber felt the cold sweat beading on his forehead. His lips were dry.

  “Maybe just one swig,” Barber said grabbing the bottle.

  “That’s it,” the jock said. “What did you say your name was again?”

  “I didn’t,” Barber said. “But it’s Barber.” He put the bottle to his lips and took a quick swill of the foul tasting liquid. It was thick like cough syrup and tasted like hell.

  “Taste that?” the jock asked.

  “Yeah, it tastes like shit.” Barber wiped his lips with the back of one hand as he handed the bottle back with the other.

  “Naw, that’s the taste of pure bliss in a bottle,” the third boy said.

  “Well, I think it tastes like hel-” Barber froze as it hit him. The Pow popped something in his brain. A rush of ecstasy washed over Barber, starting with the hair on his head and it didn’t stop until it reached the tips of his toes. That was it, he was hooked.

  Chapter 2

  The door was not locked as Carter had instructed before he left. Alarm bells rang in his mind. Maybe it was just the paranoia that comes with having survived multiple assassination attempts recently, or waking up one morning to the world’s most dangerous man sitting on the end of his bed only a few short months ago, but either way, Carter wanted the damn door locked.

  “Hey, man. I thought I told you to lock this door when I left,” Carter said as he slammed the door to a close behind him.

  “Sorry, I forgot,” Barber said, but the damn kid didn’t even bother looking up from his video game to acknowledge Carter as he spoke the words.

  “How was school?” Carter asked.

  “Fine.” Again Barber kept his eyes peeled on the television screen.

  Carter dropped his keys on the counter and stepped into the kitchen to grab a drink of water. Carter could practically see his reflection in the shine that came off the brand new faucet. It was a stark difference to the dingy sink with the leaky faucet he was used to. The whole apartment was far beyond anything he had previously occupied. From the drug dens with the blacked out windows covered in cardboard to keep the light from shining on the sunken in faces of his junkie companions. To the run down one bedroom apartment with the smoke stained walls he had shared with his ex-girlfriend. None of them came close to the plush digs Carter had secured last minute, knowing he had a fat payday just around the corner.

  The job with the bank, testing their vault’s security, paid more in a few weeks than Carter could make in a year working a nine to five. Sure he had to give away trade secrets, but he was one of the good guys. And if some User scumbags, who used their powers for nothing better than to knock off a bank got caught in the process, that was just a job well done as far as he was concerned.

  “Did you finish your homework yet?” Carter asked.

  “I’ll do it later,” Barber answered. “I’m about to beat the boss on level three.”

  This kid and the video games. He practically hadn’t stopped playing since they unpacked the damn box it came from yesterday. Granted they had literally just moved into the joint. Walt was kind enough to float Carter the money for the down payment and the deposit, on the condition that he would pay it back as soon as he got paid. Carter’s previous apartment had been shot up, blown up, and probably condemned on account of the assassins Fox sent after him that had trashed the place.

  “Do you wanna go get some dinner? There’s a Chinese place down the street that makes a mean sweet and sour pork,” Carter said.

  “No, I had a bag of chips earlier,” Barber said.

  “Then go get your homework done,” Carter said doing the best impression of an authority figure he could come up with. He didn’t have a lot of experience in that arena. If his father wasn’t beating him, he was off drinking and drugging, and his mother was practically catatonic for most of his childhood. Neither of his parents left Carter with much of an example that he could set for Barber. He was going to have to play it by ear.

  Christ, how was this kid even alive, let alone playing video games. With the shit he eats, he should be dead. Barber just stared at the television screen as if Carter hadn’t said a word.

  “Hey man, did you hear me? I said get your homework done,” Carter repeated himself, but Barber just stared blankly at the television screen. There was a glassy look in the boy’s eyes. It was a vacant stare that told Carter that no one was home. “Come here a second.”

  “What? Why?” Barber slid across the couch as Carter approached.

  “Let me see your eyes for a second,” Carter said. “You on something?”

  “God!” Barber slammed the controller down on the coffee table and stormed off to his room, slamming the door behind him.

  Carter stood stunned, unable to believe what he had gotten himself into. The young man had been loyal to a fault when it came to Walt, but he apparently wasn’t the ray of fucking sunshine that Carter assumed he was. Carter stomped over to the door and pulled on the handle, but Barber had locked his bedroom door.

  “Oh, so you can remember to lock a door. What’s your god damn problem?” Carter found himself talking to the door. “Walt would have whooped your ass for acting like this.”

  “Walt never made me do homework!” Barber yelled from behind the door.

  “Yeah, well the fun and games at the compound are over. It’s time to get back to real life. I’m a sponsor not a god damn mother,” Carter said.

  “Then why don’t you quit acting like one!” Barber was acting like a total shit and it caught Carter seriously off guard.

  Suddenly, Carter was beginning to realize that he had spent very little time with Barber back at the compound that did not involve train
ing or fighting, and he may have bitten off more than he could chew by moving a moody teenager in under his roof.

  Carter had had enough. The thing about addicts is if they don’t want help, you can’t give it to them. The kid was on his own. He burst into the room adjacent Barber’s and grabbed the black duffel bag he had stuffed in the closet, threw it over his shoulder, and practically ran from the apartment and the monster that now occupied it. He ran away from his problems, and ran for the one thing that could fill the emptiness he felt; the fight.

  He hurried down the hall and over to the elevator. The elevator door couldn’t open fast enough. He pressed the down button repeatedly. He was heading toward a full on panic attack. He pulled out the bottle that resided permanently in his front pocket and twisted the cap, poured a couple of pills into his palm, and popped them into his mouth. He swallowed them whole without so much as a drop of water like a true pro. Finally, there was a ding as the arrow above the elevator pointing down lit up, and the doors slid open. Luckily there was no one waiting inside and Carter was able to enjoy the ride down as the anxiety pills kicked in.

  He took a deep breath to steady himself before he stepped out into the apartment lobby, out the front door, and onto the streets of his city.

  Chapter 3

  From a fire escape two stories up, Carter had a clear view of a pair of thugs sauntering through the alleyway below. Their pace was leisurely, but their conversation was riddled with plans of ill intent.

  “I’m telling you man she was a dime. A straight ten,” the long haired one said before taking another swill on the bottle of what looked like cheap bourbon they were passing back and forth. The alley was dark and empty. Only a few scattered dumpsters lined the building walls. Alleys like this one ran through the city like filthy veins built for the unwanted and downtrodden to traverse. They were places the underbelly of society could pass through unseen, away from the lights of the city streets.

  “You ain’t never been with no dime. Just wait until we hit Mercer Street. I’ll show you a few dimes,” the other said.

  Carter had been following them for blocks, jumping from roof top to roof top, with his duffel bag strapped to his back.

  Carter didn’t have a superhero suit, no fucking tights, not even a mask. All that was in the bag was just a plain old pair of extra clothes, in case the pair he was wearing ended up in a pile of ash. Although, he did prefer a hooded sweatshirt to shadow his face, but that was only for dramatic effect. He took a special kind of pleasure in scaring the shit out of these types of assholes.

  He waited until the pair turned the corner onto Mercer Street to hit the fire escape steps back up to the top of the roof. Steam billowed from rusty furnace stacks across the roofs of the city. Seattle was bitterly cold this time of year, but it didn’t bother Carter in the least. With the slightest alteration in blood flow, Carter could turn the Arctic down right tropical if he so needed. His super heated heart provided the molten lava like blood to his veins, and his veins transmitted the heat to his pores, allowing Carter to start tens of thousands of individual fires across his skin.

  Most of the buildings scattered across the Seattle skyline were dark, their lights having been turned out hours ago, but the occasional night owl’s apartment glowed in the midst of a sea of black. For the moment, the city was his. He owned the night and he wasn’t about to let these two scumbags ruin what little peace he could find in this world.

  “Oh, she is a beauty.” The man’s voice echoed from below.

  “I told you brother, these ladies are bringing their A-game tonight.” The other’s voice beckoned Carter to investigate further.

  Without breaking stride Carter leapt from the turret of the building, flew across the short alley way, and landed atop the fire escape on the adjacent building. He leaned over the fire escapes metal railing to get a better view of the two scumbags and a prostitute doing their thing right out on the main street. And why shouldn’t they? The cops didn’t give a damn. In this bitter cold, they wouldn’t get out of their car just to chase down a prostitute and a couple of johns. Even if they did arrest these three, they would be back out on the street within twenty four hours.

  “You boys looking to party,” A raspy voiced woman said. She was dressed in a tight mini skirt with a neon green tank top. The only thing that gave any hint of the extreme cold she endured night after night was the hideously fake mink fur coat draped over her shoulders.

  She was a smoker. At lease a pack a day, probably two, Carter guessed by the sound of it.

  “We’re looking to party all right,” one of the scumbags said as he grabbed her by the ass.

  That was it. It was go time and Carter didn’t hesitate. He took the fire escape stairs an entire floor at a time. He jumped from one platform to the other, using the fire in his palms to steady himself in small bursts when needed. Carter landed on the last floor and stopped.

  He froze. He had been in a hurry to chase the two men down, but the dumb asses were leading the prostitute back into the alley, right beneath where he now stood. Shear dumb luck might just be this poor woman’s saving grace.

  “I don’t normally do doubles, but you boys seem nice,” she said.

  Her hair was like a helmet, stiff and no doubt removable. Did she really think that shitty looking wig was fooling anyone?

  “Oh yeah, baby. We’re the nicest,” thug number one said, and with a flip of the wrist a blade appeared in his hand.

  “Ain’t no freebies here hun. That little blade ain’t gonna make me put out for free,” she said trying to sound tough, but a slight tremor in her voice betrayed her and she took a visible step back away toward the street.

  Carter wasn’t sure who he had more contempt for, the thugs or the prostitute, but he wasn’t about to let this lady get cut up on account of her profession by these two twisted, sick fuckers.

  “Let me see what you got under there,” the man with the knife said.

  He slipped the blade under the exposed strap of her bra and with a flick, he cut the strap in half.

  “Listen buddy, my pimp’s gonna be along any second now, and he’s black and he’s gonna kick your ass!” She shouted and tried to run, but the second thug caught her from behind and pushed her further into the alley, toward the shadows.

  “Where you think you’re goin’, huh?”

  She tried to side step past the first scumbag, but the other stepped up to block her, forming a wall of drunken, horny, flesh to keep her from running.

  “Yeah, we’re just getting started.” The second man grabbed her by the tit and gave it a squeeze.

  “You got that right,” Carter said as he dropped down between the two thugs.

  He landed in a crouch, but popped back up immediately, much to the shock of the pair of thugs; their expressions now twisted in confusion.

  “What are you, some kind of All American reject?” The far more muscular of the two asked sarcastically.

  The man was missing a front tooth and had dirty flowing blond hair, making him look like some kind of Fabio on crack. Carter’s scowl tugged down on his cheeks; the mention of the All American’s always put him in a foul mood.

  He was going to enjoy this.

  Carter lit small fires on both fists, just enough to let them both know he wasn’t fucking around.

  “You’re a god damn User!” the Fabio wannabe said.

  “No shit,” Carter said. “Now drop the knife and step away from the woman.”

  “Or what? You’ll give us a sunburn with your little fire fists,” the other man mocked him.

  Apparently they were unimpressed with seeing a User who could summon fire at will, or maybe they were just so blasted they didn’t know better. Both men had wide, wild eyes with pupils the size of a pin head. Carter had seen that look a thousand times in his days as a druggie, usually in the mirror. This altercation was going to take more than words to be resolved.

  “Are you going to do something or just stand their with your finger up your
ass?” The prostitute asked.

  Apparently she was no Julia Roberts.

  “Hooker with a heart of gold my ass,” Carter mumbled.

  “What?” Fabio’s degenerate brother asked.

  “Oh, shut the fuck up!” Carter blasted the confused man with an uppercut that would have laid the Hulk low.

  The force of the blow knocked the man’s long hair back like he had been hit by a bolt of lightning. The man stumbled and Carter was sure he was going down, but he reached out for the building’s brick wall, steadied himself, and came right back at him.

  Carter had fully intended for a kind of shock and awe attack on the men, knocking the first out, and leaving him ample time to deal with the second. Now he faced off against both men, and by the look of it the first was down right pissed off by Carter’s punch to the face. Worse, the second still held the knife, and was waving it menacingly in front of Carter’s face.

  “You wanna go! Let’s go!” the man with the knife said with a wicked grin. The sick bastard wore a look like he was enjoying this. Carter knew the look well. It stared back at him every time he looked in the mirror.

  Carter obliged the man with a fireball to the face. The man jumped back and nearly stabbed himself in the eye with the knife, before what little common sense the man had caused him to drop the blade, and use both hands to smother out the flames.

  Being distracted by the knife wielder cost him though. He was grabbed roughly by the shirt, and before he knew what was going on, he was turned and thrown to the ground. Carter landed on the prostitutes feet, and she screamed out in pain.

  “Get off me you god damn creep!” she cried.

  “Fuck you lady. I’m just trying to help,” he said as he got to his knees.

  She promptly thanked him by kicking Carter between the legs with a ridiculously high heeled stiletto from behind.

  “Fuck yourself, mother fucker!” she howled.

  Carter grabbed his poor crotch and a single tear fell from his watery eyes and rolled down his cheek.