Authors: Lucas T. Harmond
Something deep inside was screaming that the Man he was looking at now,
was not human
! That he was even just accepting that thought as fact troubled him, but at the same time he wasn’t really certain how much he could actually trust his senses anymore.
Maybe
, he mused with dark amusement,
he was just standing alone in a car park
.
“What do you think?” The guy asked suddenly.
“What!?” Josh stammered breathlessly.
Wild eyes glared out from the dark. “You know damn well what I’m answering, Josh!”
Josh blurted out the only thing he could think to say. “How do you know my name?”
A smile slowly formed on the guy’s face; he moved out from the dark, light dancing on the lenses of his glasses.
“This is all very cliched,
don’t you think
? Well, let’s cut to the chase. My name’s Carthy by the way.”
He walked casually towards him, hands still in his pockets.
“
No don’t run
. Well, I’m not one for small talk. First of all, I’m not following you.”
Somehow there seemed to be more words in his sentences then were actually spoken.
Josh was beginning to feel sick, was beginning to pace backwards to the door. The man had an unhealthy presence and his head buzzed with sound.
“What do you want?” Josh spat out the words. Somehow he felt that this man was responsible for everything he had been experiencing.
“Now?
This second
? Well just to warn you that whatever impulses you’re getting right now, whatever you might suddenly feel compelled to do, those things you’re seeing and those places that keep calling to you, well, you should probably ignore them. Ignore them all.” He reached Josh, dropped what was left of his fag and slowly ground it into a puddle. His hard glass-covered eyes flicked back up seriously. “Or you’ll probably end up dead.”
“
You threatening me
?” Josh took a step back, feeling a sudden stab of fear, but his snarl remained.
“No. A threat comes from someone who will hurt you, a warning comes from one
who doesn’t want you hurt
. Comprend-hi?”
He paused again, studying Josh with cruel-looking eyes. Again, Josh was feeling exposed and violated. Although it seemed crazy he felt that the creature was inside him, part of him and that made him feel violently ill.
“So who
would
hurt me?” The door was only a few metres behind him, but it felt like miles. Slowly he edged towards it.
“The bad guys! No, don’t ask me any more, just accept that they exist. Now, you’re not involved, you’re not in any danger and none of this even concerns you. It’s just unfortunate that being the way you are...”
Josh interrupted, knowing exactly what he was going to say and slowly beginning to suspect what had been happening to him over the past month. “That I’m picking up on things?”
“Yes, and you always did, didn’t you? Probably why you’re such a fucking outcast here.”
“You don’t know me man!” Josh said angrily.
“No, I guess not and I guess that’s why
I don’t know
that you’ve always felt different,
separate
, why you always felt a certain level of empathy to people, but no real connection. That’s probably why I don’t know you’ve had nightmares for most of your adult life. That really is a little troubled isn’t it, don’t you think?”
“Shut up!” Josh hissed. ‘I know as much about you as you let me know kid.’ The words echoed inside of him, were never actually physically spoken.
Carthy shook his head like a disappointed parent. “You don’t mean that much to me,” he told him bluntly. “I didn’t come here just to warn you, and I’m only telling you while I am here. An opportunity arose, that’s all. Just don’t go poking about. In fact, do me a favour and just lock yourself up at home for a couple of weeks. you’re really affecting my methods of work and I know for a fact, they’ve noticed you as well. Make my life easier, I’ll do what I have to do and the sooner that’s done, you’ll be sleeping like a baby again. How’s that sound?”
“Good.” Josh said almost to himself. Carthy lit another cigarette with a battered Zippo and inhaled deeply. “You missed them?” Josh questioned cautiously, testing his own senses. “
Relieved
?” Carthy’s voice was level and calm. Answering something which hadn’t been said.
Josh smiled weakly.
“And confused and scared?”
“Listen I don’t know if I can accept this,
I mean this is
...”
Carthy cut him short, speaking without opening his mouth. ‘Sorry kid, I don’t really care. I don’t have the time or patience to answer all those questions you keep buzzing ’round your head. How you deal with this is your problem. Still, I will tell you that this is real and this isn’t just the final stage of some kind of psychotic episode. Then again,
if it was
, I’d probably say that anyway.’
Josh stepped back, feeling revulsion at how vividly the other had just entered his mind.
“
What are you, Carthy
?” His voice was a whisper and the disgust was traceable.
“I think what you really want to know is what
you
are. you’re a freak Josh. A fucking freak! Now stay out of my way and go back to your friends. They’re worried!”
A DANCE BEFORE DYING
THERE WAS A HUGE BRUISE on Harper’s face and another on his self-respect. His knuckles were white from the pressure and the fingers of his hand were throttling a half-drained pint of lager. The only other reminder of his encounter was a plaster over the slight cut down his cheek.
The initial relief he’d felt had long died and been replaced with frustration. Harper had been milling it over for some time, cursing Steve for just walking away, pissed at the abuse he’d suffered and that he’d just took it but most of all that he’d now lost out on...
on the what
? It didn’t have a name and he didn’t even know what the hell he’d even been selling. He called it Blue,
obvious really
, but whatever it had
really
been was still a mystery to him.
It had been a slow burn, but clearly word had spread and suddenly he was getting clients he didn’t even know. People were bringing friends to him. The same faces had been back again and again. New voices were calling on his mobile.
Now, whether Blue was addictive or not he neither knew nor cared. The only thing he did know was that he’d been able to charge anything from ten to fifteen for
one... capsule
? Considering the bulk of what he was getting and the pretty small percentage cut his suppliers had been taking, Harper had fast been realising that he was into something good. In truth, the freaks he’d dealt for didn’t seem themselves to realise what they could have got.
Maybe they hadn’t worked out the money of this country yet
. He’d been taking advantage of something royal either way. There was no doubt he’d stumbled onto some big shit, unfortunately he wasn’t the only one to have realised. His guess was that it had been Sonny but it could just as easily been Gareth Heath.
Fuckin’ anybody really
...
He had realised it had been a possibility
but what the fuck could he actually do
? He’d been kind of torn between excitement that he was possibly onto something that could make him, but had felt an increasing sense of dread that it was possibly getting too big for him to work alone.
He drained off the last of the anti-freeze and piss in his hand but his grip remained tight around the glass.
Either way, he mused bitterly, he’d been cut out of the equation now. Whether the freaks would continue to supply to the big league or whether there would be a takeover was anyone’s guess. Presumably it depended on whether or not they were the ones manufacturing the drug or whether they were just importing it into the country. It confused him at how such a group could be in control of such a unique product and seem to have no real business sense, no muscle, and they had chose such a minor-league dealer to work with. It would have made sense if they’d decided to take most of the profits knowing he was too small-time to argue, but he’d been putting up the price and they’d still asked for a tiny cut. He’d fucked them!
“And now I’m fucked!” He muttered bitterly to his empty glass.
A violent chill shot through him, his body spasmed. He hated it when someone walked over his grave, ever since he’d seen The Sixth Sense. Daft really.
His head felt thick, muddled, and his lips and nose were beginning to feel numb. He put that down to the collection of empty glasses on his table. In this pub no one could be arsed to collect the glasses and he couldn’t be bothered to take them back to the bar. An unpractical situation.
Harper was falling deep into an alcohol slump, brooding over what he’d just lost and wishing he had the muscle to cut up the ass holes who’d just shafted him. He didn’t though. All he had was a bruise and a lot of pent-up rage.
His brain was swimming, felt kind of, weird. Whispers.
Harper shivered, his arm twitched uncontrollably briefly and it was a couple of seconds before he realised his hand was still shaking and that his tight grip was increasing. He looked at his hand dumbly, felt the pressure increasing, watched his shaking hand like it wasn’t his own. Felt confused but unable to really feel attached to the situation.
Like it wasn’t real
.
The glass imploded, his fingers snapping shut around shards of razor glass.
“
Fuck!!!
”
The pain and the noise kicked him back to reality and Harper fell sideways off his stool in shock, crumpling to the floor. It seemed almost like a sudden jolt as he regained control over himself. kicked back.
Someone,
somewhere
shouted. “What the fuck’s wrong with him?!”
“You alright, mate?” Someone asked from behind.
He sat up on the floor swearing to himself, his free hand grasping his ripped up palm. Blood was spilling in between his fingers, cascading down his wrist.
“Oh jesus!” He hissed between gritted teeth and reluctantly removed his hand and opened up the cut palm of his other. His hand was shiny red and it was difficult to see where all the cuts were. The only obvious one was a gigantic chasm out of which was sticking a slightly curved shard of glass.
His hand was pulsing with sharp pain, like fire. He was having trouble moving his hand, presumably had slashed some nerves or muscle. A real deep, raw cut.
Harper pulled out the dagger and was rewarded with a stab of pain. There was a collection of blood coated stringy stuff half escaping from the wound now.
“Shit!” He felt repulsed, gagged, wanted to push the stuff back into his hand but couldn’t bring himself to.
“You alright, mate?”
He half looked round, was in too much panic and pain to really see them. Bald... glasses. “
What’s it fucking look like
?” He returned his attention to his hand. “What the fuck’s goin’ on?” One of the young blonde bar maids stood over him. The one with a harsh face and too much eye make-up. No sympathy, just anger over the mess he’d made.
“Help me up.”
Reluctantly she did, helped by the man from behind.
“That’s a real nasty cut. Probably hit a vein,” a young kid from the group that was gathering around him, told Harper helpfully.
The tarty-looking bar maid looked back to the bar.
“Angie,” She said tiredly. “You better ring the ambulance.”
Presumably it wasn’t good for business having people bleed to death on the premises. Besides it would be a lot of bother for her to clean up.
Harper pushed his way out of the crowd, teeth and cut hand both clenched tight.
“
Hey
, where you going?” The tart snarled after him.
“Outside!” Harper responded bluntly.
The bar-maid shot her hand out to catch his shoulder, still angry that he’d broken a glass. Suddenly she stopped and decided to let him go.
She was uncertain why.
The crowd stood watching Harper stumble off, blood dripping regularly to the dirty carpet. No one moved.
Harper got quickly to the door, was eager to get outside. He wasn’t even considering what he would do once he got there. Or why he wanted to leave the pub.
He used his shoulder to open the yellow glass panelled door and was out into the heavy rain. Wind was whipping about him and hard sheets of water pelted over him. He stood bewildered and in pain staring back at the wedge shaped pub that sat on the corner. Across the road the glass wall of a car sales place, some iron spiked fences to one of the Uni’ buildings, old run down and spray-painted terrace houses and a car park underneath a flyover. A few lamps shot pools of light down onto the black liquid road and pavements.
“
What the fuck am I doing
?” Harper said in a confused and mildly scared whisper. He had suddenly realised that he had no idea why he’d left the pub just behind him.
‘Business appointment my dears,’ whispered the voice of an angel in his ear.
He turned ’round, knowing who he would see, only he didn’t. All he saw was the rain-washed street of boarded up and abandoned buildings.
Harper tried to remember the guy’s name—he rarely had dealt with anyone other than Malok. The thin, tall and harsh looking one who rarely spoke.
“Where are you?” Harper yelled into the wind.
From the edge of the building, the alley behind it, a long, thin arm unfolded and with a single finger beckoned him to come. Harper frowned at the mantis limb and considered turning the other way.
Something was deeply wrong.
He stood there, cold and bleeding trying to understand why they’d possibly want to see him again. Did they maybe still want him in? Didn’t seem likely.
The sharp pain in his arm was still throbbing and the blood felt like lava in the chill. He knew he should get it seen to, had no desire to see his old associates, didn’t even like the fact that they had come to see him,
but yet
, he felt he had no option other than to comply.