by Stacy Buck
The pair, one on each door, pulled on the handles, and slowly crept the doors wide to each side. They stood there not moving, blocking Carter’s view.
“Now move out of the way,” Carter said.
“You asked for it,” one of them said.
Carter wasn’t really sure which, and at that moment he didn’t care, he had more pressing matters at hand. A third man, carrying a shotgun, popped up out of the back of the van, and he had the barrel pointed right in Carter’s face.
“Well, looks like I got the right van,” Carter said.
Chapter 9
Carter froze. He knew without a doubt, he was fucked. He had been in sticky situations before, but this time he was wide open with a shotgun in his face. Even if he managed to get a fireball shot off, the shotgun used a scattergun approach, and he was bound to get hit by at least some of the bee-bees. Worse still he was outnumbered three to one.
“You so much as move and I’ll paint the road red with your brains,” the man with the shotgun said as he stepped down out of the van.
The man with the gun was little, barely five foot. It was always the little ones you had to worry about. They had an ax to grind, and this one wanted to grind it right on Carter’s face.
“What do we do?” the driver asked.
“You let me take care of him. You’re hired to drive, that’s all.”
“You’re not going to kill him are you?” the third man asked.
“What’s the matter? You’re a drug smuggler with a conscious all of a sudden,” the man with the shotgun teased. “You, over to the side of the road.”
He pointed with the barrel of the gun toward a dark thicket of trees and underbrush sprouting up right next to the side of the road. Carter did as he was told. He had little choice in the matter. He was going to die, and there was no fighting it this time. He had failed. He would not stop the Pow from infecting his city, and worse still, he would not be there to take Barber to the meeting tomorrow, or the week after, or the week after that.
“Get down on your knees,” the man said.
Carter dropped down on his knees next to a large fern bush. The fern’s sprouting swords were taller than he was when on his knees.
“Kiss your ass goodbye.”
“You first.” A voice Carter recognized well whispered from the darkness.
Barber burst up, out from behind the fern, spikes leading the way.
“What the-” Was all the man with the shotgun was able to get out before Barber’s spikes drove into the man’s chest, tearing through skin, bone, and flesh.
The gun fell from the man’s hands as he brought them up instinctively in a feeble attempt to defend himself. Blood filled the man’s mouth and throat before he could cry out to his companions. A sickening gurgle, as the man choked on his own blood, was the last noise that he would ever make.
Barber stepped on the man’s stomach and yanked back with both arms, dislodging his spikes from the man’s chest. Blood, having been plugged by the spikes, erupted like a fountain all over Barber.
“What are you doing here?” Carter asked.
“Saving your sorry ass life.”
“But how did you get here?”
“I followed you.”
“I told you to stay at the apartment.”
Barber opened his mouth as if he was going to offer a rebuttal, but he was drowned out by the roar of an engine firing up.
“The van!” Carter shouted.
They traversed the uneven terrain, leaping over bushes and slipping through the gaps between trees, but by the time they reached the road, the van’s taillights were like two tiny glowing red eyes in the distance. Then the van turned around the bend and was gone.
“Come on,” Barber said as he started running down the road.
“They’re gone,” Carter said. “It’s over.”
“What do you mean it’s over?”
“That’s it. That was my last lead and they’ve escaped,” Carter said.
“You’re just going to give up? We can go back to the warehouse and wait for the next shipment.”
“And what? They know without a doubt that we’re onto them. They’re going to be even more prepared next time. Do you think these drug smugglers are fools?”
“No, but we can take them together. With my hel-”
“We’re not Batman and fucking Robin!” Carter yelled. “This isn’t some comic book! You just killed a man!”
Barber threw Carter a hateful glare.
“You’re right. We’re not Batman and Robin, and we never will be.” And with that, Barber stormed off down the road, heading back into the city.
“Come on, Barber! I didn’t mean it like that!” Carter hollered after the boy, but he was met with only silence.
Barber didn’t even bother looking back as he marched away into the darkness.
*****
Carter decided to walk back instead of flying, taking the long way home past the waterfront. He needed to blow off some steam before he saw Barber again and figured that he could walk it out. It started to drizzle as he entered the city, but in true Seattleite fashion, he didn’t even pull up his hood. It took some true sideways, slap you in the face, drench you to the bone, type of rain to have a native of this city pulling out a hood or god forbid an umbrella. He arched his neck, letting the cool drops of rain run down his face, cooling his temperature like he was some kind of reptile. Wisps of steam rose off his bald head as the rain quickly evaporated against his hot skin.
He sighed. Things had not exactly gone as planned since he’d left the compound. He wanted to be there for Barber, but he also wanted to stop this new drug from flowing into the city. He had never been one to find balance in life. His addictive personality made sure of that. It was either all or nothing, good or bad. It had been this way for as long as he could remember, even as a child.
Maybe this problem was bigger than he could handle. Maybe he should turn over what information he had found to the cops and let the professionals handle it this time. Then he could focus solely on Barber and his work.
“Shit,” Carter said to himself.
He was supposed to go back to test the bank’s new vault tomorrow, but he had promised Barber he would take him to the meeting and a movie. That was it. When he got back home, he would apologize to Barber, go to work tomorrow, and make it up to Barber by being there for him from now on.
*****
“Barber?” Carter asked as he opened the front door.
It was locked, which was unusual that the kid had actually remembered to lock the door behind him.
“I’m home.”
He was met with silence. The apartment appeared to be empty. There was no moody teenager vigorously battling the video games at his usual post on the couch.
“Come on out,” Carter said.
He knocked on Barber’s bedroom door.
“I wanna talk about what happened.”
Again nothing but silence. He grabbed the handle and it was unlocked. This was also outside the norm for the kid, and he pushed open the door.
“Huh,” he said when he found the room also void of human life. The room was a mess. Laundry was splayed across the bedroom floor. There were empty pop cans on the windowsill and a plate of god only knows what left half eaten on top of Barber’s dresser. Carter cringed. The kid’s room was like a high school science experiment gone wrong.
Carter slowly closed the bedroom door, thinking that Barber must have just gone to blow off some steam the same way he did after their argument. He was sure that Barber would waltz through the front door at any minute. If Carter had only taken the normal way home instead of going the long way around, he would have known better.
*****
Rain. Of course, now it would start raining. Carter had probably flown home and was resting comfortably back at the apartment with his feet up, meanwhile he was stuck walking back in the dreary rain. He wondered if Carter would even care when he arrived at the apartment drenched fr
om head to toe. He wondered if Carter cared about anything, anything other than himself of course.
Barber snickered. He doubted Carter would even notice. Carter was barely ten years older than he was, and the guy always treated him like he was just some dumb kid. He wanted to go back to the compound. He wanted to be back with Walt, and he scolded himself for ever thinking that Carter would have been a reliable sponsor in the first place. There was something good about the guy, he was driven, and Barber liked that, but he most definitely was not a good parental figure.
Not that Barber would know any better. He had never known his parents. How would he know how one was supposed to act? He had spent the first half of his life in an orphanage and the second half in and out of the foster care system before he finally met Walt. Walt wasn’t much of a father figure either, but it was all he’d ever known. He needed to go back to the compound right away. He would tell Carter as soon as he got home and arrange to have Walt pick him up in the morning. He knew Walt would be there when he needed him.
The streets of the Sodo district were empty as usual. Less than a handful of cars had passed him by since he left Carter back at the edge of town and there had been zero foot traffic. So he was startled when he heard a women’s screams coming from behind a building on the opposite side of the street. Barber didn’t even bother to check for cars as he bolted out into the street. He reached the dilapidated sidewalk on the other side of the street in a flash, turned down an alley, and saw a woman being dragged, kicking and screaming, by three men toward the end of the building.
Barber didn’t hesitate. This was his chance to prove to Carter that he could handle himself. To prove to himself that he wasn’t just some kid. He was a User after all, and no mere human could stop a User.
“Stop!” Barber shouted. “Let her go!” But they rounded the corner of the building. Barber hightailed it down the alley and burst around the corner of the building with his spikes drawn to full length. He imagined the look on the men’s faces when he rounded the corner with his barbs fully exposed. They would probably shit themselves.
“I said stop!” he shouted to…no one.
There was only an empty parking lot. It was as if the woman and her assailants had just vanished into thin air. Suddenly the hair on the back of his neck was standing on end and the air seemed a bit colder here in the empty parking lot. He was surrounded on three sides by buildings with only the parking lot exit facing the street. It was the perfect spot for an ambush.
“What the fuck?” he asked to no one in particular.
A green light flashed in his eye. He looked away down at his torso and found green dots covering his chest. He almost asked what the fuck again, but before he could speak, men dressed in all black and armed with semi-automatic weapons emerged from every shadow, nook, and cranny they could possibly hide in. They rushed to surround him with their guns leveled at his chest. For a brief second, Barber thought he might make a run for it, but then he heard a menacing voice.
“So you’re the little sidekick,” a man said from over Barber’s shoulder. “Put the spikes away before you poke someone’s eye out.”
Barber did as he was told, sliding his barbs back into his forearms. He turned around to find a well dressed man in an expensive suit standing before him.
“What-what do you want from me,” Barber stammered. A wiry grin spread across the man’s well manicured face. Barber thought he looked like some kind of Bond villain. He had the slicked back hair and everything.
“I want you to go on a little ride with me,” the man said, and Barber was in no position to argue.
******
Carter sat on the couch waiting for Barber to return. Eventually, he passed out and he didn’t wake until the following morning. He awoke fully dressed and sitting up on the couch.
“Barber?” he shouted. “Barber?”
Carter ran to Barber’s bedroom, hoping the kid had sneaked in during the night while he was unconscious on the couch. He pushed the door open, expecting to find Barber asleep in his bed, but he was not there. Everything was exactly as it was the night before.
Carter closed the door behind him and turned to look at the clock over the kitchen stove.
“Shit!” He was going to be late for his job. Somehow, someway, he was going to have to put this whole mess with Barber out of his mind. At least for as long as it took for him to complete the gig with the bank.
*****
Having successfully completed his job at the mock bank, Carter returned home. The new vault the bank’s scientists had created failed to deter Carter from breaking into it. He had broken into this new vault almost as quickly as the last, which for Carter was a good thing. It meant another test had to be ran, and more employment for Carter. But he was too worried about Barber to be excited about his work.
He spent the rest of that day by the phone, hoping that it would ring. He’d pick it up and Barber would be on the other end, safe and sound. Days passed, and still Barber hadn’t returned home. Carter tried to play it off the first couple of days, convincing himself that the kid had just run away, but would show up any minute now. By the third day, Carter really began to worry, and no amount of convincing was going to alleviate the anxiety he felt.
During the day, Carter waited by the phone. It never rang. He even secretly called Vince to see if Barber had been at any of the meetings that week, but Vince hadn’t seen any sign of him. Carter politely asked Vince to not tell Walt that he had called before hanging up.
At night he went searching for any sign of Barber. He hit all his old digs. The nasty places, the dark places, the no good places; hoping that, despite the implications, maybe Barber had gotten so mad at him that the kid had gotten back on the sauce.
“You seen this kid?” Carter asked a grunge looking biker sitting at the bar.
“Fuck off,” the biker said. Carter moved for the door. Another dive, and another dead end. No matter how many junkies he asked, crack dens he hit, and flop houses he busted up, no one had seen Barber. After spending almost a week in Seattle’s underbelly, Carter knew it was time to bite the bullet. It was time to go to the User’s for help. That included Walt, and his wrath, but he had to face him. He couldn’t let his own cowardice prevent him from finding Barber.
Prologue 3
Carter opened the rickety door a crack and peaked into the meeting room at the Elk’s club, making sure that meeting was fully underway before he entered. The regular rogues gallery of Users was present and accounted for, Vince, Cody, Walt, Evan, and all the others; all except for Barber. Purposefully, he took a seat in the corner, far away from Walt. Carter didn’t want to talk to the General until he was sure it was the right time to open up about Barber. He was positive that would be Walt’s first question anyway.
Carter wouldn’t so much as look in Walt’s direction. He stared at his worn out shoes for the remainder of the meeting. Between the drug ring, work, and Barber missing, Carter didn’t even have to time to buy a decent pair of shoes. Luckily the fire burnt away his hair on a regular basis, eliminating the need for a haircut.
The meeting went off without a hitch and before Carter knew it, and before he would have liked it to be, the meeting was over. The room emptied, with everyone heading out to their cars or to mill about in front of the building, everyone except for Carter. He had to squeeze through the herd of Users headed outside to smoke like moth’s headed to the light. Walt waited in the back of the crowd eying Carter, and more importantly eying who was missing. Carter gulped past the lump in his throat as he reached Walt. He had strategically set this up to catch Walt at the meeting where the man wouldn’t be armed, at least Carter hoped he wouldn’t be.
“We need to talk,” Carter said with as much confidence as he could muster.
“Where’s Barber?” Walt asked.
There was no putting something past Walt, he was to damn sharp, especially for a man of his age.
“He’s…he’s missing,” Carter answered hesitantly.
“What do you mean he’s missing?” Walt asked through gritted teeth.
Walt’s hands clenched into fists and Carter expected and fully accepted the fact that Walt was well within his rights to clock him a good one.
“I think he just ran away, but that’s why I came to you. I need you to sniff again.” Carter pulled one of Barber’s old shirts from his duffel bag. The shirt was wrinkled from having been balled up and shoved into the bag.
“You know I don’t do that anymore,” Walt answered.
“I know. I could easily get someone else, but no one knows Barber as well as you,” Carter pleaded. He held the shirt out at arms length waiting for Walt to take it. “Look, Barber and I had a fight, and I’m sure it’s nothing, but just in case. Please, sniff the shirt.”
Walt let out a long sigh then snatched the shirt from Carter’s waiting grasp. The older man put the shirt up to his face and took a deep whiff.
Walt’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and he began to shake visibly.
“What? What’s wrong?” Carter asked, but there was no one home and Carter knew that Walt was being transported to another time and place.
After a few moments Walt broke the silence. “I see him. He’s locked in a room with his arms chained behind his back,” Walt said still in his trance-like state of sniffing. “He’s got blood on his face and arms and one of his eyes is swollen shut. He looks like he’s taken one hell of a beating. He looks…scared.”
“Where is he?” Carter asked desperately.
“It’s a…a warehouse. All white…it looks abandoned,” Walt said.
“Oh god. I know where he is…,” Carter said. “And it’s not good.”
Chapter 10
It rained like a bitch. Carter was soaked to the bone, but he didn’t care. His clothes clung to his muscular frame like soggy form fitted armor. He had his hood up and pulled down low over his forehead, but it did little to keep his bald head dry.