My Angels Have Demons (Users #1) (11 page)

"Fox made her decision and so did you," she said. Her eyes were steeled with conviction.

"That doesn't make it any easier," I said.

"It's not supposed to. You have to live with what you've done, and only you know what that's like, but you have more pressing matters."

"Are you going to call the cops and tell them what I've done?" I asked.

"No, that's not what I meant. A normal psychologist probably would, but as I specialize in dealing with you User types, it's not something I do. Otherwise, I'd be calling the cops on my patients every other week," she said. "What I meant is Alaric. Surely, he is coming after you."

"He is." I looked around nervously, half expecting Alaric to jump out from behind the curtains covering the single large window on the wall to our left, but it was nothing, just my paranoia getting the best of me.

"Where will you go?" she asked. "You've already bounced around half the city, stopping at each spot, thinking each location was your last resort."

"There really is only one more place for me to go." I let out a heavy sigh.

"Your parents?" she asked.

"Oh god no," I answered as if she were crazy, and indeed I would rather face a whole host of Alaric's than face my parents again, not after what they'd done. "I will go back to NA."

"Narcotics Anonymous?" she asked, her tone dripping in disbelief.

She knew that I hated NA. Them and all their hugging higher power bullshit. It wasn't for me. I respected the program for what it does for those in need; but it never worked for me. The one good thing about the organization was they would help, no matter what, and without question. I had friends who lived for the program, and they would welcome me with open arms.

"I don't see any other option. They'll hide me some place where Alaric will never find me," I said.

And it was true, the program had connections in places both high and low, and its members could get almost anything done. If there was one safe place for me to go, it was there.

"When will I see you again?" she asked as the time on the clock ran down.

"I don't know. It might be a long time before it's safe again," I said.

"Take care of yourself," she called for me as I headed for the door.

"I'll try," I said, and for the first time since I could remember, I really meant it.

Chapter Six

Part 5

Part 5

Prologue 5

Skulking, Carter trudged up the half dozen or so steps that led into the hall of the local Elk's club lodge. The carpet beneath his feet was fringed and walk worn. Far too many shuffling feet had been dragged over its surface for way too many years. The in and out of decades of meetings had not been kind on the facility. Its white walls were faded and its doors hung for dear life to their tired hinges.

Carter recognized every detail of the shabby building. It hadn't changed a bit since the last meeting he had attended almost five years earlier. He ran a finger over the clipboard hanging from the wall immediately inside the door. His finger stopped on the N.A. for users five thirty meeting about halfway down the crinkled paper schedule.

Carter sighed. He was just in time. Room 4A was just down the hall and to the right, and he had to practically drag his lethargic ass to the room. Stopping at the closed door, he had to take a deep breath and prepare himself for what lay beyond. He didn't want to be here, didn't want to be anywhere near an A.A., N.A., A.L.N.O.N, or any other acronym named meeting.

Muffled voices could be heard on the other side of the door, but they stopped immediately as Carter swung the door open. All eyes turned on him as the meeting came to a standstill. God damn goody goodies had all shown up early leaving him, as usual, the black sheep. He was beginning to remember exactly why he hated these meetings.

Most of the faces staring back at him were smiling, but there were a handful of scowls at his disruption. His entrance had brought their meeting to an abrupt halt, and some of them didn't seem to like it one bit.

"Come on in. Have a seat," Vince said, a look of recognition washing over the man's fast almost immediately.

Carter wasn't the least bit surprised that Vince was still running the group, the dude was a lifer. Most of them were after all. These meetings weren't just meetings, for most they were a lifestyle; a lifestyle that Carter wanted no part of. But he had no options, except face Alaric alone, and that might as well have been suicide. Carter stood no chance of going it alone. He could only hope the group would welcome him back with open arms, offering him sanctuary from the outside world, and the revenge seeking maniac that was Alaric, that hunted for him.

He plopped down in an open seat next to a gruff looking older fellow in camouflage army fatigues. The old man was a vet no doubt, so many of them were, and who could blame them.

"As I was saying before we were interrupted." A twenty something woman with meth mouth and yellow stained smokers fingers continued. "In the past I would use my powers to push drug dealers into giving me their stash."

Carter looked away from her instinctively. Of all the Users, the pushers made him especially nervous. Just looking into their eyes could be dangerous. Even for the slightest moment and they could warp your mind, convince you they were your best friend, and have you emptying your bank account or even take you for a leisurely stroll off a seven story building before you knew what hit ya.

"But I've been sober now for four months. Lately, I feel like I've been white knuckling it. Like I want to use all the time. I even found myself passing by my old squats the other day, but then I remember my tools and my higher power," she said.

And there it was. The other reason that Carter hated N.A., the god damn higher power. Why did the founding fathers of these groups have to bring God into it? Can't an atheist get sober without having religion crammed down his throat. His blood literally began to boil just listening to it.

"That's good Talia," Vince said. "Work the steps and they'll work for you." And everyone clapped as the woman sat back down like some Hollywood starlet had just given her acceptance speech at the Oscars or something. And so it went around the room, with each man or woman standing up in turn to get the weight off their chest. Or was it more like a monkey off their back or the devil off their shoulder, but it all had the same end result. Just a bunch of whiners drowning in the sorrow that was their addiction.

Vince was staring at Carter from beneath his thin glasses. The room was dead silent. He gave a slight nod and Carter knew the time had come. Vince was giving him the polite signal that he needed to talk, or get the fuck out. He cleared his throat while getting to his feet.

"My names Carter," he said.

"Hi Carter," everyone said in unison like a brain dead cult.

"And I'm an addict," he said.

From there he went on to explain the horrific events of the past few days of his life. Carter let it all out, going into every gory detail. Starting with his girlfriend leaving him and ending with the death of Fox. They listened intently to his every word. They gasped audibly when he got to the grisly death of Fox.

"And that's what lead me back here," he finished.

His tale was met with total silence. Carter scanned the room to find a mix of blank stares and dropped jaws staring back at him. The air had been sucked out of the room. Someone coughed.

"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 half heartedly, 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 sometimes 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.