Victim Number Two

 

It had been over three weeks since Nikki’s death, and I was getting bored. Life in general had been, well, bland. Aside from my friends, there wasn’t much to wake up for in the morning. I needed excitement. I sat at the back of the otherwise empty city bus. Finally, my stop came up. I threw a thankful glance at the driver and concentrated very hard. I decided to cut through the alley behind the shopping center since it wasn’t completely dark yet.

In this city, you don’t go through alleys, even if you do live in the pseudo suburban part. Gangs from downtown occasionally get the itch to spend a day in the middle class zone, and meeting them, or anyone dangerous in an alley almost guarantees that you will be hurt if not killed. Suburbia, on the other hand, is a lot safer. Crimson lives near the edge of a high end community, and though she despises the looks she gets from neighbors, she enjoys the security.

Even in daylight, I carried my pocketknife closely. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I know what I found.

He sat, slumped over a box next to a dumpster, the syringe still stuck in his badly infected arm, with red eyes and a drug-induced smile. I approached cautiously, wondering if he was knocked out. Dead, maybe? “Hey. You all right?”

His face twitched. “Eeehnn.”

My eyes widened as he poured onto the ground. I stepped closer. “Oh my God.” It’s not that seeing drug addicts in this part of town was unusual, it’s that he was in really bad condition. Despite his clean non-Wal-Mart clothes, I could tell he was messed up. I guess he was about my brother’s age, maybe a little older. Usually, the worst it got out here was alcoholics. I wasn’t about to call an ambulance, but I could try to help him. I wasn’t afraid of him. He was at his weakest, and, even though I’m not the greatest person ever, this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to help someone who desperately needed it. I pulled a water bottle from my backpack after removing the needle from his vein. I splashed some of the liquid in his face.

He woke up a bit more, sputtering. “Hey, where am I?”

“In an alley. Are you ok?”

He shook his head nauseously. “No. I don’t think” He coughed “I don’t think so.” I saw his stomach cave in an instant, and he doubled over to retch. He gasped. “Do you have anything I can drink?”

I handed him the bottle. “Here you go, man.”

He swallowed gratefully. “Thanks.” His words slurred. “You’re nice.”

“Nah, you’re just messed up really bad.” I began to smell the combination of vomit and alcohol.

“Really? I felt so good a few hours ago.”

“Because you got really messed up.” He attempted to stand, but fell. “Here man, grab my hands.” I pulled him up from where he sat on cold, dirty cement and trash. After he was on his feet, I commented “Your arm’s really bad. You ought to clean it up.”

He studied it, and the way he failed to steady his gaze, I figured his vision was rolling. “Oh yeah. Y’right. Where’s Red at?”

“I dunno. Who’s that?”

“He’s my dealer.” The stranger rocked. “I’m Dan, by the way.”

“Where’s this Red live?”

“He’s down on Thirty-First. The white house with the red door.” He smiled sickly. “I’m his favorite customer, ya know. You tell’im you know me, he’ll take care of you.”

I was incredulous at this man’s sad life. “Dan, I wanna help you feel better, ok?”

“Ok. You got any more?”

“No, I want to help you feel better without it. Come on.” I knew there was a gas station with a phone book and payphone nearby. I looked up the nearest halfway house and dialed the number. They agreed to try to help Dan, but he had the right to leave whenever he wanted. They weren’t very far away, so we took the bus over. He’d managed to keep his wallet and bus pass. During the trip, he began to come to more. “God, I feel bad.”

“You’ll feel better if you stop taking stuff. You know that, right?”

“Yeah. I remember when I didn’t. I was happy. I got hooked bad, though. Now I’m gonna lose my apartment if I keep missing work.” He cradled his head in his hands. “God, why did it get so hard?”

“Hey, it’s gonna be all right, ok? You just have to stay away from it all and go to work instead.” I placed my hand on his shoulder.

“I’ve tried. It hurts!” He looked up. Already, his eyes had cleared up a bit.

“I know man. These people I’m takin’ you to will help, I promise.”

He looked surprised. “Help me?”

I returned both hands to my lap. “Yeah, help you. As long as you let them.”

Ours was the next stop. I walked him to the door.

I was amazed at how easy it had been to get him here. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

He walked through the door after thanking me and didn’t come out again as long as I stood waiting for the next bus, so I guess things went well. As for me, I had a new victim: Red on Thirty First.

Reviews

[Mark D. Chevalier]

Ooooooooooooooo! Dear sweet red...! Gotta keep going now. Appears to be a cerial-killer with an agenda developing...
Mark

[Brie]

oooo! I like her choice for the next victim. I thought it was going to be the addict at first, but now i understand her decision. Great!
-Brie