This is the fifth segment of a fictional short story that starts here.
As a child I would often fall asleep on car rides. I grew
well out of that phase by the time I had become a drug dealer, with the
exception of a few incidents that occurred as a result of a lack of sleep.
There was still something comforting about the open road. There was a
rhythm to it that I could get locked into for hours, something soothing that perhaps
reminded me of my virtues long since lost. I would drive with no radio, no
passenger, and sometimes with no specific destination in mind. Being alone out
on the road was calming for me. But not this time.
Once again I found myself locked in a trunk. My head was
pounding and I could feel a fresh lump growing on my right temple, accompanied
by that old familiar sting of a knockout punch. I knew I would be getting looks
from people for a few days. I wasn’t tied up this time but it didn’t really
matter, I had no time or reason to try to escape. I thought about what lay
ahead for me and the fact that within two weeks there was a good chance that I
would be dead.
I had only just formally met King, but my guy whose name I
will never mention for reasons I will discuss later had always been good to me.
I couldn’t see myself taking from them what they had earned in an illegal, yet authentic
fashion. As far as the drug world goes, there aren’t many good people at any
level. “The game” as we called it was filled with deception, paranoia, treachery,
betrayal, and there were rats at every turn. I considered myself to be one of
the good few, and I held my guy and King in the same regard. It was at that
moment that I decided that I was going to hatch a little plan of my own. They
were giving me time to go about my regular business, and that would be plenty
to come up with something. For now, I would keep my eyes and mouth shut and try
not to throw up on myself in the trunk of the car.
In just a couple minutes, the car slowed and made a few
turns and eventually stopped. I heard the doors open and shut, and I heard the
trunk pop. It was completely black outside, I guessed we were in the same
alleyway I had been taken from. Dumpy said, “Ok this is your time to shine!”
Again, he offered me no help getting out of the tight space, but at least there
wasn’t a gun pointed at me. I crawled out and wanted to sprawl out on the
concrete but stood instead. “Are we back in the alley?” I asked. Goggles
replied, “Yep! This is right where I knocked you down the first time!” Fuck
you. Their faces were dimly lit by the indirect light from the trunk. An unnerving
glow was cast across one side of their faces, I envisioned them burning alive
but they wouldn’t stop smiling even in my fantasy. One of them handed me my
belongings and an additional cell phone and Driver said, “We’ll be in touch.” And
just like that, they got in the car and slowly pulled away, making sure not to
turn on any lights until they were far enough away so I couldn’t read the
license plate. I stood there in quiet reflection for a moment, gathered my
bearings and wandered down the alley toward my car. It had been a long night
and I wanted to curl up in a bed somewhere for a few days but I knew I had a
lot to plan and nowhere to call my own.
The only thing I could think of was getting a cheap motel
room where I could get high and make some money. Selling out of a motel was
dangerous business, but I didn’t care. At this point being arrested would be welcomed,
and at the very least, I would have a place to sleep for a while.
I found my car and put my supply in the trunk. I stood over
the empty cavity for a moment and wondered what it would be like to be stuck in
there. My trunk could hold a few bags of groceries and the special spare tire
that was half used and freely moving around when I drove. Everything was
covered in dust and various fluids that had leaked out of partial bottles that
would never be used. I really wanted to fit all three of my new enemies in
there. I had that thought that maybe with the aid of a chainsaw that would be
possible.
I closed the trunk and cleared my mind and got in the driver
seat and started the engine. I thought about going back to my friend’s house to
tell him what had happened, but I wanted more information before I did. So I
signaled and pulled slowly away from the curb. When you’re carrying that much
meth, you follow every law so you don’t risk being pulled over. I knew too many
people in prison as a result of a tail light out, speeding, or failing to
signal a turn. Once pulled over, it’s pretty easy for a cop to find probable
cause to search the vehicle, I was good at following the road rules.
I drove down Broadway and pulled into the parking lot of a
run-down motel. I forgot to look at myself before I walked in and got a long
stare from the clerk. I saw my reflection obscured and elongated in the convex mirror
above the register and could see blood on my face. I took a risk and asked, “Can
I get a room for two nights?” There was a long pause before he replied, “I’ll
need a credit card.” Of course he would. I looked through my wallet for show
and paused, and stared in astonishment. There was the prepaid credit card
Goggles had used to pay for the Google search. I handed it to the guy behind
the desk and couldn’t believe it when he said, “OK, sign here and here is your
key.” Thanks guys.
I took my key and went to my car to get my things from the
trunk. I had been up for four days at this point and desperately needed a nap
but there was no time. The hallucinations hadn’t quite come on yet, but my
eyelids were heavy and there were split-second blackouts in which my knees
would buckle if I stood still for too long. I needed to keep a good amount of
meth in me at all times from this point on, and I needed to change my method of
ingestion to keep my body and mind from shutting down. I opened up the room and
turned on the lights and shut the door. I looked around for something to chop
up my dinner and found it as always in the microwave. The glass turntable had
served as a chopping tray countless times before, and it would do it again
tonight. I opened up my huge bag of meth and pulled out a chunk and put it on
the tray.
I pulled out a dollar bill from my wallet and covered the
shard as best I could on all sides. I crushed it down first with my finger,
then went over it several times with a lighter until it felt flat. I took my
credit card and scraped the bill off and fluffed up the pile that was stuck to
the tray. I wanted to get it as fluffy as possible so it would act quickly. I
rolled up the bill and snorted the whole pile. It burned.
Meth is a crystal,
and no matter how much you break it down, it will remain a crystal until it is
dissolved in some way by a liquid. When you chop it up so to speak, you’re
turning one shard into a million little jagged pieces of glass. The chemicals
inside the drug react quickly with human flesh and immediately cause a terrible
burning sensation. That feeling alone was enough to wake me up. It felt like
somebody poured Drano down my nose and into my throat, I loved it. And two
minutes later, I felt the drug begin to take hold.
