Off the Wagon (Users #2) (12 page)

Every rumor about Ryker was true. He was tall and svelte, but muscular. He wore a nice button up shirt with a fancy vest. His jaw line was flawless and his eyes were a kind of deep blue Carter had never seen before. This guy was a neo-Nazi prototype, minus all the hate and racism.

“And you are?” Ryker asked.

Vince blushed.

“I-I’m Vince. I run the meetings.” Vince extended a hand for Ryker, and with perfect form, Ryker took Vince’s hand in both of his and gave it a smooth shake.

Vince beamed as they shook hands like he was meeting the Pope.

“Well it’s nice to meet you Vince,” Ryker said.

“We’ve saved you a seat,” Cody said motioning to an empty chair next to his near the head of the table that stretched across the center of the room.

“What?” Ryker addressed the group’s focus on him, before he planted his ass in his seat.

He must have noticed that every eye in the room was peeled on him.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Cody said. “They’re just excited to have a new member.”

Jesus Christ, this guy must be the world’s most powerful Pusher and the entire room must be under his spell. Carter wondered what his powers really were. Was he a Mover like Evan, or a Changer like Cody? There was something he was missing it all this. Some reason besides his cheek bones that everyone was enamored with him.

“What’s with this guy?” Carter whispered to Barber, but the young man to his left looked away as if he hadn’t heard him.

The room was finally settled in, and the meeting was fully underway. Vince gave his usual spiel as to who was getting what chip that day before opening the floor.

“So who’d like to go first?” Vince asked as if addressing the entire room, but his gaze was all Ryker’s.

No one dared to speak.

“Well…I guess, since I’m new here, I’ll introduce myself and tell you a little bit about me,” Ryker said after a few awkward moments. “My name’s Ryker.”

“Hello, Ryker.” Everyone spoke in unison like they were the Borg or in some kind of a cult.

“And I’m an addict,” Ryker said. “When I was just a kid my father died, and my mother was left to provide for five of us kids. Being the oldest, my brothers and sister looked to me for just about everything. My mom was always working two, sometimes three, jobs. I basically raised four kids on my own from when I was thirteen.”

Ryker paused and Carter wondered if he was doing it for dramatic effect.

“All the pressure of school and helping my little brothers and sister with their homework, cooking their meals, making sure they got to bed and up and off to school on time…after years and years of it, well I just couldn’t keep up. That’s when I started with the meth. One of my few remaining friends introduced me to it. It made me feel invincible, at least for awhile.”

A woman sitting behind Carter sniffled and he couldn’t help but imagine seeing her rolling a tear for this guy.

“And that’s why I’m here. I’ve been sober for seven years and going strong,” Ryker said.

The crowd cheered like he had just given an acceptance speech at the Oscars. There was whistling, one man hooted, and another hollered.

Carter couldn’t help but notice that Ryker had a few years more sobriety than him.

The rest of the meeting carried on as expected. Some members got up to speak their mind, get shit off their chests, others sat quietly and just listened.

Carter had to admit the meetings had become rather therapeutic for him as of late, although he would never admit it openly. Even if he didn’t talk, just listening to others who had problems similar to his own was helping him compartmentalize his own issues. In this place, he never felt alone. It was the total opposite of what he felt when he was out on the rooftops, looking down at the city. But he needed that too, need that alone time to talk it out with himself. Again, he was split down the middle and it felt like the two halves were tearing him apart.

Barber elbowed Carter in the ribs, pulling him from his contemplations.

“Ow,” Carter said.

Barber cleared his throat.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Barber asked.

“Oh, yeah.” Carter rose to his feet without addressing anyone first. “I want to say a few things about the compound.”

“Yes?” Vince asked after a moment of silence had passed without Carter continuing.

“Well…um,” Carter said.

He was starting to clam up. Carter hated talking in front of other people, especially a crowd this large. The room was packed tonight and he could feel their eyes peering into him. He swallowed hard.

“Walt’s death has weighed heavy on all of us. No more so, than Barber and myself. So in his honor, we have decided to keep the compound open,” Carter said.

He was in uncharted territory here. Carter wasn’t even sure that he had the right to do this, but it seemed like what Walt would have wanted.

“For those of you that are already staying at the Compound, nothing will change. For those of you looking for a place to stay, our doors are open to you.”

“I’m looking for a place,” Ryker said interrupting Carter’s flow.

“Yes, well, um…I’m kind of in the middle of something,” Carter said.

“That’s a terrific idea,” Vince interjected while patting Ryker on the back. “A new beginning for the compound with fresh faces to help breathe new life into the place.”

“That’s not exactly what I was think-” Carter started to say, but he was rudely interrupted by a round of applause for Vince.

“Thank you, I look forward to joining those of you staying at the Compound,” Ryker said. Carter sighed and slumped back down into his seat.

“Nice job,” Barber whispered. Then the young man chuckled at Carter’s expense.

“Thanks a lot,” Carter said. It was going to be a long first day.

Chapter 13

Back at the Compound, Carter, Barber, and Ryker hopped out of Walt’s old truck. The truck was another heirloom left behind by Walt that they had inadvertently inherited. The rough running engine rumbled to a stop on the gravel driveway.

“Show Ryker to his cabin please,” Carter said to Barber.

Although it wasn’t that long ago that they played this same scenario out in reverse, with Walt asking Barber to show Carter to his cabin, now that seemed a lifetime away to Carter. He had seen too many fights since then, too many deaths. First Fox, then Walt, everyone that he opened up to and let in emotionally died. He wondered how long until Barber met the same fate. Perhaps, the kid would be better off with him a thousand miles away. Perhaps, he should put as much space between him and anyone he cared about.

“Thank you for this,” Ryker said as he rounded the truck in Carter’s direction.

He had a huge smile on his face that showed his genuine relief and appreciation, as he extended a hand for Carter to shake.

“It really means a lot to me.”

“It’s nothing,” Carter said giving Ryker’s hand a half hearted shake, but when he tried to let go, Ryker held his hand there in place.

“It is something to me. It’s a second chance, and that’s more than I could ask for, more than I deserve I guess” Ryker’s deep blue eyes bore into him as if he were seeing through Carter’s facade. “You are doing something really special here.”

Ryker finally released his grip on Carter’s hand. The man certainly had a way with people, Carter had to admit, but that only made him dislike Ryker all the more.

“Right this way,” Barber said motioning to a vacant cabin just inside the over ten foot tall fence that surrounded the entire Compound.

“There’s someone at the gate.” One of the guards manning the fence called to Carter as Ryker and Barber walked away.

“Who?” Carter asked unsure who it could possibly be.

They didn’t get many visitors at the Compound. It didn’t exactly look solicitor friendly and the menacing fence kept even the heartiest of religious types away.

“Says he’s Walt’s lawyer,” the guard yelled.

“Well let him in then,” Carter said.

The guard called down to two of the other guards manning the gate, and together they pulled the doors apart revealing a faded old powder blue Cadillac with a tattered white soft top. The type of car that just reeked of bowling alley and low life pimp. The belts squealed as it made it’s way through the gate and up the drive.

“Who is it?” Barber asked, returning from dropping Ryker off at his cabin.

“He says he’s Walt’s lawyer,” Carter called back to him, heading towards the vehicle.

“What could he possibly want?” Barber questioned as he caught up with him.

“I don’t know, but it probably isn’t good.”

Carter was right. Stepping out of the boat on wheels was the scuzziest looking lawyer he had ever seen. His dark hair was slicked back to cover a balding spot, rather poorly for that matter, in the middle of the man’s head. He wore a cheap suit, and large aviator sunglasses, the type the cops on seventies television shows wore, shrouded most of his face. He held a dirt brown leather briefcase by the handle in his right hand. From the white patent leather loafers, all the way to his four inch lapels, the man’s outfit just screamed I will launder your drug money as soon as I’m finished chasing this ambulance.

“Well, if you aren’t a sight for sore eyes.” The lawyer’s reek of Pinaud Clubman aftershave invaded their nostrils well before he reached the awaiting duo. His skin was like the Marlboro mans, leathery and rough. “I didn’t expect to find you here.”

“I’m sorry. Do I know you?” Carter asked.

“Well of course you do.” The lawyer slid the sunglasses off the front of his face and tucked them between the crease in his button up shirt.

“Oh, shit,” Carter said under his breath.

“What? What’s wrong?” Barber asked.

The lawyer chuckled.

“You look like you seen a ghost boy.”

“He-he’s my father,” Carter admitted.

“He’s your what?” Barber asked incredulously.

“Father,” the man said. “The name’s Jack”

Carter just stared at him, half in shock.

“Well don’t just stand there like a horses ass, get over here and give your father a hug.”

*****

“What in the hell are you doing here?” Carter asked once they were sitting at the table in the big house’s dining room.

“Is that any way to treat your father?” Jack asked as though there was no validity for his abrupt treatment.

“Father my ass,” Carter scoffed at the notion under his breath, drawing a look of concern from Barber.

“Seriously, why are you here?”

“Like I told the guy at the gate, I was Walt’s lawyer,” Jack said. “Before he passed.”

“Uh, huh” Carter eyed him with scrutiny.

Carter knew Jack to be one selfish sonuvabitch, always in it for himself and usually having something to do with the almighty dollar, but ask any one of his dozens of friends and they would tell you he was the greatest guy in the world. Carter just didn’t get it. He sighed.

“Just one addict giving another addict a job,” Jack said plainly. “Nothing more.”

“That still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here,” Barber said.

“Oh, that. I’ve come to deliver Walt’s will,” Jack said.

“Uh huh, you just happen to be the executor for the estate of the guy who had taken in your only, and estranged, son these last few months?” Carter asked sarcastically. “I’m not buying it.”

Barber and Carter eyed one another from across the table. This could be bad, very bad.

Jack reached down, grabbed the leather briefcase, and plopped it down on the table. A quick snap of the metallic locks and the top popped open.

“What exactly does this will say?” Barber asked with a quiver in his voice.

Carter was sure the boy was thinking the same thing he was. They were out on their asses. All of them. Some long lost relative of Walt’s they didn’t even know was about to receive the title to the compound, and Carter doubted they would be sympathetic to a bunch of junkie squatters camped out on their property.

“Well, I’ll let you read that for yourself,” Jack said pulling a piece of paper from the briefcase and unfolding it.

“Give me that.” Carter snatched it out of his father’s hands, no longer able to take the anticipation.

The document was official looking, with big bold letters across the top that read, “The Last Will and Testament of Walt Snyder.” Christ, Carter had never even bothered to learn Walt’s last name.

As he read on, it hit him like a bomb going off, but there it was in plain English. Carter couldn’t believe it. His jaw hung open and his eyes went wide.

“What does it say?” Barber asked.

“It’s you,” Carter answered.

“It’s who? Me?” Barber asked in confusion.

“The Compound, the truck, everything, it’s all yours,” Carter said.

The thought of who Walt had legally left his possessions to had never even crossed his mind until that moment.

“What? Let me see that,” Barber said.