by Fox, Harley
“He ain’t that neither!”
“Yeah, Maddox,” Matthias chimes in, sounding concerned. “Didn’t Gil … I mean, I heard he went kinda crazy from trying this stuff.”
“That was a recipe from months ago,” Maddox tells him. “This one’s changed. It’s different.”
“Yeah, the Slingers have been cutting it with something!” Chloe says.
“No!” Twixer shouts, but Maddox just shakes his head.
“Listen. Either you take this drug right now, or we make you take it. The choice is yours.”
Twixer looks terrified. His eyes dart from person to person, looking for help, but no one knows what to say. Suddenly he makes a noise and lurches to his feet, but our Bullets are too fast for him. Two sets of hands grab onto his arms, and Twixer cries out as he’s forced roughly back down to his knees.
“Hold him!” Maddox shouts, picking up one of the vials. Twixer screams and thrashes, trying to get away. The other Slingers look scared as well, and uncertain about what to do. Myself, my heart is racing in my chest. But I’m as stunned as everyone else. I can see it on their faces.
Maddox pops off the top of the vial, and brings it down to a struggling Twixer’s nose. Twixer calls out for help, for Maddox to leave him alone, but Maddox only grabs a hold of Twixer’s mouth, covering it up with the palm of his hand. Twixer’s forced to breathe harshly through his nose, and that’s where Maddox sticks the open end of the vial.
It’s an ugly, painful thing to watch. Twixer cries out through his nose, but he can’t stop himself from breathing. Maddox even tilts Twixer’s head back, and I see the white powder being slowly sucked in through one of Twixer’s nostrils. Bits at a time, with Twixer’s eyes going wider after each snort. His pupils begin to dilate when the vial’s halfway done, but still Maddox holds it there, more and more of it being brought up into Twixer’s lungs.
Finally the vial is empty, and at last Maddox takes the thing away, and lets go of Twixer’s mouth. He stands back up, and then nods at the two Bullets holding the captive’s arms. They let go, but the need to flee has left Twixer. He stays on his knees now, breathing heavily. His face looks sweaty already and we all stand around, staring at him, watching in rapt silence as the only sound in the warehouse is that of him wheezing.
Suddenly Twixer coughs, a harsh barking sound, and we all react with surprise. I see one of his arms start to twitch. It’s like watching a transformation take place. In the back of my mind I’m worried that he’s going to turn into some sort of Mr. Hyde. But the reality of the situation is much worse.
Twixer lets out several more coughs, and as he does the twitching extends from his arms all the way through the rest of his body. He leans to the side and falls over, his head landing with a thud against the concrete foundation of the room. The other Slingers and some of the Bullets cry out as Twixer begins convulsing. His muscles seize and he shakes violently, white foam beginning to come out of his mouth. Slingers drop to their knees, grabbing a hold of him, unsure of what to do but trying to stop this from happening all the same.
I’m shocked. I look up at Maddox and I see him watching all of this, his expression unable to read. Is it fear? Sympathy? Anger? I don’t know.
“Somebody call someone!” one of the Slingers shouts, but nobody moves. We can’t bring the police or an ambulance here. Besides, we’re all too shocked to do anything anyway.
Twixer keeps convulsing, keeps seizing on the ground. The girl Slinger who tried defending him is holding his face in her hands. She’s crying, trying to get him to stop. And as though granting her wish, he does stop. Twixer’s body gives one final seize, his voice sounding strained through his nose and the foam in his mouth, before all of his muscles relax and his last breath leaves his body. His eyes stare up at the ceiling, cold and glassy, never blinking again.
“NOOOOO!!” the girl Slinger cries out. She begins to sob, bringing her head down to Twixer’s, her greasy hair falling down in ropes around them. The other Slingers are silent, but we’re all watching this display. I don’t know what to feel. My heart and mind feel detached from my body. Did I just watch somebody die?
“Fuck!” Maddox shouts, kicking one of the chairs hard, making it fly across the floor away from the table. We all jump, my heart beating fast in my chest. “Fuck fuck fuck! Making drugs isn’t fucking rocket science!”
“Maddox!” says Matthias.
“He’s fucking dead, man!” shouts Chloe.
“Shut up!” Maddox points at her. “Just shut the fuck up. This isn’t supposed to happen.”
“No, it’s not supposed to happen!” cries one of the Slingers, himself sounding choked up.
“Just shut up! Everybody shut up!”
Maddox runs both hands through his hair. He looks stressed out. He’s breathing hard, and his eyes fly from this place to that.
“Ugh … those fucking guys!” He kicks the table this time, and the bag of vials slides, a few more vials coming out. Some of them start to roll around, clinking together. One falls off the table and smashes on the ground, next to the body of Twixer.
“They should have figured this shit out!” Maddox says, more to himself now than to the rest of us. “This shit should not be happening. Ugh,” his fingers run through his hair again. “I have to make some phone calls. You, and you,” he points to two of the Slingers huddled around Twixer. They look up at him. The girl holding Twixer’s head still hasn’t moved. “Get rid of the body. The desert. And you,” he points to another. “Take her out of here.”
And with that, Maddox turns and heads for his office, leaving everyone to either watch him go or listen to the girl cry her heart out to a dead Twixer.
“Come on, Kash,” says one of the Slingers, trying to pry the girl’s grip off of Twixer. She screams out in hurtful sorrow, and the sound of it cuts into me. We, the Bullets, all stand and watch as a sobbing Kash is taken away, the fight having left her entirely. The other Slingers help pick up the body of Twixer, struggling with its weight. One by one the Bullets peel off, but I’m still standing there, watching all of this happen. Finally the Slingers get a hold on the body and they carry it out, and then I’m the only one left standing. Nobody is speaking, except the muted sounds of Maddox on his phone, and once Kash is out of the warehouse an eerie silence takes her place.
I just watched somebody die.
It’s like my mind and my heart had taken a vacation, and they were only now coming back to be with me. But then reality slowly sets in. Like I’m standing on slow-moving quicksand, it envelops me, not letting me go.
I just watched somebody die. One of the Slingers. Maddox killed him, all to prove a point that he was wrong about.
Is this the group I want to be in? Is this the life I want to play at being a part of? Where’s Flynn? I feel like I need him right now. Because standing here in this gigantic warehouse surrounded by people—myself included—who did nothing while a man died right in front of them makes me feel so, so alone.
I need to do something. I need to set things right.
And now there’s no time to waste.
Trista
I’m riding on my motorcycle, heading to Point Blank with the other Bullets, Maddox excluded. I can’t even remember what happened after watching Twixer die. Somebody came up to me—I was still standing there—and asked me if I was all right. I said something. He led me away from the table. The rest is a blur. And now we’re outside, riding.
The sun is starting to go down. I don’t even know what time it is. The buildings and pedestrians all fly by in a haze. I hardly notice any of them.
Before I know it we’re at the bar, parking our bikes next to one another’s. We walk in and I look over to the couches and see Flynn there, having a beer with Jackie and Chris. They’re all smiles, but when they see us the smiles drain from their faces. Flynn gets up and walks over to me, meeting me halfway as the others continue to the bar.
“Hey, is everything all right?” he asks me.
I don’t
know what to say. I don’t think I can say anything. Have I spoken since I watched Twixer die? I don’t know. Maybe.
“I …” I start to say, my throat feeling dry and painful. Maybe I was crying? I honestly don’t know.
“Here, come on,” Flynn says, saving me from trying to speak any more, and he leads me toward the couches, sitting me down next to where he was. He passes me his beer and I take it, the cold glass feeling wet against my hands. I drink the fizzy liquid and it cuts through my dry throat like water through a desert. It feels good.
Some of the others join us on the couches, and though Jackie and Chris ask them what happened, they’re slow to respond. But eventually the story leaves them, and as they tell the whole thing Jackie, Chris, and Flynn all fall silent. By the time they’re done, everyone else has sat down at the couches. I’ve still hardly said anything.
“This is fucked,” Chloe says, and several people agree. “Maddox had no right to do that. He knew the stuff was like poison. Why did he make that Slinger take the whole vial?”
“He thought the guy was lying,” Tyrone says. “He thought they cut it with something.”
“Bullshit,” Chloe spits. “You saw how scared that Slinger was. There’s no way he would be lying just to cover his ass that far.”
“Twixer,” I say, and people’s heads turn to me.
“What?”
“Twixer,” I tell Chloe. “That was his name. It was Twixer.”
She looks at me for a moment. “Yeah, Twixer. There’s no way Twixer would have been lying at that point. What would be the benefit?”
Flynn looks over at me, and even though I don’t quite meet his eyes I can see the compassion in his face. He drops one of his hands down between us—down where no one can see—and I feel him grab onto my hand, giving it a squeeze.
My heart skips a beat. I finally do look over at him and he smiles at me. We’ve never held hands before. I don’t know what to say. But before I can, Flynn lets go of my hand and turns his attention back to the conversation. I swallow, forcing my attention back to it as well.
“Well, whatever, it doesn’t matter,” Alyssa says. She sounds depressed. “What’s done is done. Hopefully Maddox takes care of this, and soon.”
“If he can take care of it,” Matthias points out.
“What makes you think he can’t?” Flynn asks.
“I’m just saying, if Maddox has all of his shit together, then why did something like this happen?”
“Maddox is a good leader,” Flynn tells him. “It’s Will who’s fucking him over here. Maddox doesn’t have any hand in what’s going on. It’s not his fault.”
“Don’t you think a good leader should have a hand in what he’s selling on the street?”
Several mutters of agreement come up.
“Just give him time,” Jackie says, and others agree to that. “Maddox will figure this all out.”
I sit with the Bullets as the conversation eventually turns to other, more cheerful things, although I don’t participate in any of it. I can’t stop thinking about what happened. Flynn gets me a beer, but I hardly touch it. In my mind’s eye all I see is Twixer—I didn’t even know his name, not until minutes before he died—hacking up barking coughs on the ground. Him collapsing, seizing, convulsing as thick, white foam spills out of his mouth. And his eyes. His eyes looked so scared when Maddox held that fucking vial to his nose and forced him to inhale that entire thing in one go.
“Hey.”
I snap out of my trance and look over to see Flynn looking at me. His eyes are full of concern. Around us conversations continue.
“You feeling all right?”
“Yeah,” I lie. “I’m just kind of tired.”
I take a drink of my beer and the liquid tastes foreign to my tongue. It’s a struggle to swallow it. I just want to spit it out. I just want to get up and leave these people here. How can they just drink and talk like nothing even happened?
“Is it what happened earlier?” Flynn asks me in a low voice, a voice meant only for me. “With that Slinger who died?”
A wave of nausea hits me and I have to swallow to hold it back.
“No,” I lie again. “I told you, I’m just tired.”
But he doesn’t look convinced.
“Listen, it sounds like what happened was pretty fucked up. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you when that happened. Was that … your first time, seeing a dead body?”
I open my mouth as I consider my answer. I’ve seen dead bodies before. Being on the force, it’s practically an occupational hazard. But that part of my life doesn’t exist right now. Besides, it’s not the fact that I saw a dead body that’s bothering me. It’s how he died, and why he died—which was for nothing.
“Yeah,” I decide to go with. “Just once. But this was different.”
Flynn nods, not asking for more details. He puts his hand on mine again, hidden, where no one else can see. My heart does a little leap in my chest, but for some reason it’s not as strong as it usually is.
“I hear you,” he says. “Seeing someone die can be hard. Especially if it’s right in front of you, especially if they were someone close to you. The first time I saw someone die, I …” I watch Flynn trail off for a moment, just a moment. But in that moment his eyes lose their sparkle, and I think I see something almost come out that I’d never seen before. But as quickly as it came, it goes. He clears his throat. “Sorry. I was shocked. The first time I saw someone die. It’s tough. It takes something out of a person. So, yeah, I get where you’re coming from.”
Our hands are still together, and now it’s my turn to give his a little squeeze. He looks down, almost as though he’d forgotten we were touching, and a small smile appears on his face. He gives my hand a squeeze back, and then he looks at me. I look back at him, our eyes locked together.
But that moment of tranquility lasts only so long, as the noise of boisterous conversation tears me out of it and back into reality. Bullets laughing, getting drunk … it’s like nothing even happened to them, and my previously forgotten feelings of unease and disgust come roaring back.
I pull my hand from Flynn’s. I have to go. I can’t be here any longer.
I put my beer—only a quarter of it gone—down on the table and stand up. A couple of people look up at me, but they quickly return to their conversation. Flynn stands up too.
“Where are you going?” he asks, his voice still low.
“I have to go,” I tell him. “I think I just need some air. Or maybe some sleep. I just want to get out of here.”
“I’ll come with you,” he says as I start to move away from the couches.
“No,” I tell him, looking up into his eyes. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.”
Flynn doesn’t look convinced, but I hold my gaze and eventually he drops his.
“Fine,” he says. “Be careful out there. Don’t do anything too crazy.”
“I won’t,” I say. And then, without thinking, I lean up and give him a peck on the lips. I regret it as soon as I do it. I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know who here knows about us, or who Flynn’s told, if anyone. I can feel myself blush, and I see some people looking at us, but nobody says anything.
“Um,” I say, feeling embarrassed. Flynn doesn’t say anything. He’s just looking at me strangely. “Have a good night.”
“Bye,” he says, and I leave the couches, lifting a hand to bid farewell to those who are saying goodbye to me.
As soon as I step out of Point Blank and I breathe in some cool night air, I feel better. But not entirely better. I walk over to my bike and climb on, kicking it into life. Taking it out of the parking lot, I ride out onto the dark streets and start to head home.
But as I ride, and as the cool wind whips through my hair and I breathe in deeply, trying to clear my thoughts, I realize that if I go home I won’t be able to do anything. I’ll sit or pace around or lie down, not eating, not sleeping, just thinking about today, about what happened today.
>
And in fact, now that I’m on my own and I’m able to think without the distracting noises of ambient conversation, watching Twixer die for no good reason is all I can think about. It’s all that fills my brain. My bike starts to swerve a little as I lose focus of the road. I tighten my grip on the handlebars, but still it’s a terrible struggle to keep steady. I’m shaking too much. The bike is responding to it.
I have to slow down. There, a side street. I make a quick turn onto it and go down, then turn onto another side street, riding down that one instead. I come out at a major road and turn in the opposite direction to where I was going. I ride, going faster, trying to escape my thoughts but they stay with me, like ghosts who refuse to stop haunting me.
The ghost of Sal.
Stop it!
He died for no good reason either.
Go away!
I turn down another street, almost skidding my bike this time because I didn’t slow down. Now I’m racing along some decrepit houses. My thoughts are still with me, overpowering me, making me feel sick to my stomach. My bike swerves again, almost dangerously this time, and finally I take the hint and slow down, coming to a stop amid some abandoned buildings.
I get off my bike, hearing it fall to the side and crunch the dirt and stones and broken glass beside it, but I’m already taking steps away from it. I have to walk around. My thoughts are going crazy. I feel like I’m going to explode inside. My heart. My heart hurts so much. My hand shakes, and before I know it I take a deep breath and let it out in a scream.
“AAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!”
My lungs are empty and I take a deep breath, filling them again and panting a few times before letting it out once more.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh…”
I drop down to my knees, breathing hard. My head feels like it’s floating; my fingers are tingling.
I feel better. A little bit better. My thoughts have backed off, at least for now. But they’ve only cleared the way for my rational mind to come in and take over the scene.
What Maddox did was wrong. That’s it, plain and simple. I wanted the fire lit under my ass to get in gear and crack down on these Bullets? Well, here’s the motivation I needed.