Off the Wagon (Users #2) (3 page)

Carter had had enough. The thing about addicts is if they don’t want help, you can’t give it to them. The kid was on his own. He burst into the room adjacent Barber’s and grabbed the black duffel bag he had stuffed in the closet, threw it over his shoulder, and practically ran from the apartment and the monster that now occupied it. He ran away from his problems, and ran for the one thing that could fill the emptiness he felt; the fight.

He hurried down the hall and over to the elevator. The elevator door couldn’t open fast enough. He pressed the down button repeatedly. He was heading toward a full on panic attack. He pulled out the bottle that resided permanently in his front pocket and twisted the cap, poured a couple of pills into his palm, and popped them into his mouth. He swallowed them whole without so much as a drop of water like a true pro. Finally, there was a ding as the arrow above the elevator pointing down lit up, and the doors slid open. Luckily there was no one waiting inside and Carter was able to enjoy the ride down as the anxiety pills kicked in.

He took a deep breath to steady himself before he stepped out into the apartment lobby, out the front door, and onto the streets of his city.

Chapter 3

From a fire escape two stories up, Carter had a clear view of a pair of thugs sauntering through the alleyway below. Their pace was leisurely, but their conversation was riddled with plans of ill intent.

“I’m telling you man she was a dime. A straight ten,” the long haired one said before taking another swill on the bottle of what looked like cheap bourbon they were passing back and forth. The alley was dark and empty. Only a few scattered dumpsters lined the building walls. Alleys like this one ran through the city like filthy veins built for the unwanted and downtrodden to traverse. They were places the underbelly of society could pass through unseen, away from the lights of the city streets.

“You ain’t never been with no dime. Just wait until we hit Mercer Street. I’ll show you a few dimes,” the other said.

Carter had been following them for blocks, jumping from roof top to roof top, with his duffel bag strapped to his back.

Carter didn’t have a superhero suit, no fucking tights, not even a mask. All that was in the bag was just a plain old pair of extra clothes, in case the pair he was wearing ended up in a pile of ash. Although, he did prefer a hooded sweatshirt to shadow his face, but that was only for dramatic effect. He took a special kind of pleasure in scaring the shit out of these types of assholes.

He waited until the pair turned the corner onto Mercer Street to hit the fire escape steps back up to the top of the roof. Steam billowed from rusty furnace stacks across the roofs of the city. Seattle was bitterly cold this time of year, but it didn’t bother Carter in the least. With the slightest alteration in blood flow, Carter could turn the Arctic down right tropical if he so needed. His super heated heart provided the molten lava like blood to his veins, and his veins transmitted the heat to his pores, allowing Carter to start tens of thousands of individual fires across his skin.

Most of the buildings scattered across the Seattle skyline were dark, their lights having been turned out hours ago, but the occasional night owl’s apartment glowed in the midst of a sea of black. For the moment, the city was his. He owned the night and he wasn’t about to let these two scumbags ruin what little peace he could find in this world.

“Oh, she is a beauty.” The man’s voice echoed from below.

“I told you brother, these ladies are bringing their A-game tonight.” The other’s voice beckoned Carter to investigate further.

Without breaking stride Carter leapt from the turret of the building, flew across the short alley way, and landed atop the fire escape on the adjacent building. He leaned over the fire escapes metal railing to get a better view of the two scumbags and a prostitute doing their thing right out on the main street. And why shouldn’t they? The cops didn’t give a damn. In this bitter cold, they wouldn’t get out of their car just to chase down a prostitute and a couple of johns. Even if they did arrest these three, they would be back out on the street within twenty four hours.

“You boys looking to party,” A raspy voiced woman said. She was dressed in a tight mini skirt with a neon green tank top. The only thing that gave any hint of the extreme cold she endured night after night was the hideously fake mink fur coat draped over her shoulders.

She was a smoker. At lease a pack a day, probably two, Carter guessed by the sound of it.

“We’re looking to party all right,” one of the scumbags said as he grabbed her by the ass.

That was it. It was go time and Carter didn’t hesitate. He took the fire escape stairs an entire floor at a time. He jumped from one platform to the other, using the fire in his palms to steady himself in small bursts when needed. Carter landed on the last floor and stopped.

He froze. He had been in a hurry to chase the two men down, but the dumb asses were leading the prostitute back into the alley, right beneath where he now stood. Shear dumb luck might just be this poor woman’s saving grace.

“I don’t normally do doubles, but you boys seem nice,” she said.

Her hair was like a helmet, stiff and no doubt removable. Did she really think that shitty looking wig was fooling anyone?

“Oh yeah, baby. We’re the nicest,” thug number one said, and with a flip of the wrist a blade appeared in his hand.

“Ain’t no freebies here hun. That little blade ain’t gonna make me put out for free,” she said trying to sound tough, but a slight tremor in her voice betrayed her and she took a visible step back away toward the street.

Carter wasn’t sure who he had more contempt for, the thugs or the prostitute, but he wasn’t about to let this lady get cut up on account of her profession by these two twisted, sick fuckers.

“Let me see what you got under there,” the man with the knife said.

He slipped the blade under the exposed strap of her bra and with a flick, he cut the strap in half.

“Listen buddy, my pimp’s gonna be along any second now, and he’s black and he’s gonna kick your ass!” She shouted and tried to run, but the second thug caught her from behind and pushed her further into the alley, toward the shadows.

“Where you think you’re goin’, huh?”

She tried to side step past the first scumbag, but the other stepped up to block her, forming a wall of drunken, horny, flesh to keep her from running.

“Yeah, we’re just getting started.” The second man grabbed her by the tit and gave it a squeeze.

“You got that right,” Carter said as he dropped down between the two thugs.

He landed in a crouch, but popped back up immediately, much to the shock of the pair of thugs; their expressions now twisted in confusion.

“What are you, some kind of All American reject?” The far more muscular of the two asked sarcastically.

The man was missing a front tooth and had dirty flowing blond hair, making him look like some kind of Fabio on crack. Carter’s scowl tugged down on his cheeks; the mention of the All American’s always put him in a foul mood.

He was going to enjoy this.

Carter lit small fires on both fists, just enough to let them both know he wasn’t fucking around.

“You’re a god damn User!” the Fabio wannabe said.

“No shit,” Carter said. “Now drop the knife and step away from the woman.”

“Or what? You’ll give us a sunburn with your little fire fists,” the other man mocked him.

Apparently they were unimpressed with seeing a User who could summon fire at will, or maybe they were just so blasted they didn’t know better. Both men had wide, wild eyes with pupils the size of a pin head. Carter had seen that look a thousand times in his days as a druggie, usually in the mirror. This altercation was going to take more than words to be resolved.

“Are you going to do something or just stand their with your finger up your ass?” The prostitute asked.

Apparently she was no Julia Roberts.

“Hooker with a heart of gold my ass,” Carter mumbled.

“What?” Fabio’s degenerate brother asked.

“Oh, shut the fuck up!” Carter blasted the confused man with an uppercut that would have laid the Hulk low.

The force of the blow knocked the man’s long hair back like he had been hit by a bolt of lightning. The man stumbled and Carter was sure he was going down, but he reached out for the building’s brick wall, steadied himself, and came right back at him.

Carter had fully intended for a kind of shock and awe attack on the men, knocking the first out, and leaving him ample time to deal with the second. Now he faced off against both men, and by the look of it the first was down right pissed off by Carter’s punch to the face. Worse, the second still held the knife, and was waving it menacingly in front of Carter’s face.

“You wanna go! Let’s go!” the man with the knife said with a wicked grin. The sick bastard wore a look like he was enjoying this. Carter knew the look well. It stared back at him every time he looked in the mirror.

Carter obliged the man with a fireball to the face. The man jumped back and nearly stabbed himself in the eye with the knife, before what little common sense the man had caused him to drop the blade, and use both hands to smother out the flames.

Being distracted by the knife wielder cost him though. He was grabbed roughly by the shirt, and before he knew what was going on, he was turned and thrown to the ground. Carter landed on the prostitutes feet, and she screamed out in pain.

“Get off me you god damn creep!” she cried.

“Fuck you lady. I’m just trying to help,” he said as he got to his knees.

She promptly thanked him by kicking Carter between the legs with a ridiculously high heeled stiletto from behind.

“Fuck yourself, mother fucker!” she howled.

Carter grabbed his poor crotch and a single tear fell from his watery eyes and rolled down his cheek.

“You…god…damn…hoe.” Carter struggled to get the words out, but just had to insult the bitch.

With Carter prone and seemingly defenseless, the long haired man who had thrown him to the ground had apparently decided he would get in a few kicks too. But this wasn’t the first time some broad had kicked Carter in the nuts, although he wished it was, but at that moment it saved him. The second man was going for his fallen knife and Carter knew he had to even the odds or risk being shanked. As the first man kicked out, Carter caught the man’s foot in midair and twisted. A loud snap erupted from within the man’s ankle.

“My leg, you broke my leg,” the man shouted as he fell back to the concrete.

“It’s just your ankle you pussy,” Carter said.

Calling upon his internal fires, Carter shot flames from his palm like a blowtorch at the fallen knife. The cheap metal burned red hot and the thug reaching for it pulled back his grasping hand to keep away from the biting flames. Carter kept it up, letting the fires melt the blade and handle into a puddle of molten metal. Over his shoulder, Carter heard the telltale click clapping of high heels scuffling across the concrete as the prostitute ran away.

“What the fuck are you guys on?” Carter said as he got to his feet. “Crystal Meth, Sherm, Angel Dust?”

He squared off with the man who was still able to stand.

“You really wanna do this?” Carter motioned to his friend writhing in pain.

“I ain’t tellin’ you shit, User!” The man took a step back as if he meant to run, but Carter reached out with both hands and fire erupted from both palms, shooting flames to either side of the man’s head. The flames hit an invisible wall, rose up and slid down, creating a blockade of fire that reached over head height.

“Okay, okay,” the thug said. “Just quit with the fire shit.”

“Tell me now,” Carter said lifting a fiery finger in the man’s direction.

“It’s new. Some kind of designer drug. Makes you feel like fucking Superman.” The man spilled the beans and Carter listened intently to every detail.

Apparently, some new drug had hit the streets, something he had never heard of before, and Carter thought he had known about, seen, and done them all. The drug was neon yellow, smelled like burnt chemicals, but a few sips and you’re high like a super junkie. Containing the pain tolerance of heroin, combined with the strength and energy of angel dust, this drug was second to none in potency and was equally addicting. It was Carter’s worst nightmare. The kind of drug he had only dreamed of in his days as a drug user, but as a recovering addict it was a hellish reality he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemies.

“Anything else?” Carter asked.

“Yeah, its called Pow.”

“Pow? That’s a stupid fucking name.” Carter could hardly believe he was having this ridiculous conversation. A new designer drug had hit the streets of Seattle, and there were actually people dumb enough to take it.

“They call it Pow, because it hits you like a ton of bricks.”

“I’ll hit you like a ton of bricks. Now take your friend and get the fuck out of here,” Carter said. “And I better not see you wandering these streets again.” Carter prayed that this Pow wasn’t the reason for the vacant look in Barber’s eyes or the cause of his recent outbursts.

Chapter 4