Talk to Me

Prologue :)

Callum shifted his dented white pickup into park and slid out of the driver’s seat. Just like he had done a hundred times before, he checked his back pocket for his phone and papers, locked his truck and positioned his pepper spray in his left hand.

A shiver crept up his neck as he approached the dilapidated apartment complex, but the tremors that shot through his body reminded him how badly he needed to do this. This wasn’t the location he usually visited to rendezvous, but they were always giving him new locations. Just look for the red spider and everything would be smooth sailing; like this business ever experienced smooth sailing.

            His footsteps echoed against the metal stairs, making it impossible to be inconspicuous.

            “Apartment 14b” he whispered, “apartment 14b”

            Fourteen? That would be on the fourth and final level, as each level held four apartments. He looked at a door to the side to make sure that it said b and not another letter. The nerves made it unbelievable possible to mess up something as simple as a letter, but Callum was in the right building and on the right track to apartment 14b.

            A siren screamed in the distance, causing Cal’s heart rate to sky-rocket. His palms were damp and a nauseated feeling was stirring in the pit of his stomach. No matter how many times he had done this before, he was never any braver; one could never become accustomed to a life like this.

            Could they?

            Apartment 14b stuck out from the other doors. Not because it had a welcoming doormat or a family sized number of shoes outside the door; half of the other apartments had those things. The other half reeked of cigarette smoke and marijuana, just like apartment 14b. This apartment stuck out because on the front of the old wooden door, a spray-painted red spider shone against the dim light from a nearby lightbulb.

            Cal sucked in one last breath to build his depleting courage and knocked on the door. A gruff looking man pulled the door open and stared at Callum.

            “You the exterminator, boy?” he barked.

            Cal shook his head, “I wouldn’t mess with a spider, sir. The webs are impossible to destroy.”

            The man pulled the door open enough for Cal to squeeze into, before slamming it shut again. The stench of pot and cigarettes was bad enough outside of the apartment, but it reached a new level of rancid once Cal’s nose met its source. A dozen or so people lounged in front of a small grainy television, each person holding either a beer or blunt of some sort. A cough tickled the top of Callum’s throat, but he forced it back.

            “Let’s go, kid.” The man clamped a strong hand on Cal’s arm and began dragging him further into the apartment.

            A man stepped out of the second door in the small hallway, and Cal was pushed into the room, followed by the chosen dealer.

            “Callum Easton?” the man questioned

            Cal bobbed his head, “That’s me.”

            “Money?”

            Quickly, Cal dug a wad of green bills and a crumpled white slip from his back pocket.

            The man furrowed his brow, examining the cash, “This ain’t all you owe.”

            “Uh, yeah,” Cal cleared his throat nervously, “I got an IOU on top.”

            “I see that.”

            “S-so we’re good to go?”

            The man dropped the money to the ground, “I don’t know, what do you think?”

            “What-what do you mean? I got what I need to have. You guys have always let me slide with an IOU.”

            “No. What you need, Mr. Easton, is a couple thousand dollars to repay all your IOU’s”

            “I will, I swear,” Cal clenched his hands to stop them from shaking, “I just need more time… and I need some more stuff, just to get me through.”

            He laughed roughly, “You think we’re gonna just trust you? You’ve owed us for over a year now.”

            “I’ve almost got it all. I just need the drugs to help me make it until I repay you. I… I can’t do anything without them; withdrawal, or whatever it is, it makes everything just about impossible. You get it, don’t you?”

            “Sure, I get it, but I don’t have to worry about it. I’ve got my spending under control.” His hand moved under his sweatshirt, “You’ll be okay, anyway. Withdrawal can’t hurt you if you’re dead.”

            Within a millisecond, Cal realized he was about to die; the man blocked the door, so the only option was a small window to Cal’s right. As the man was drawing his gun, Cal shot his pepper spray into his eyes and scrambled out the window. The drop to the ground was broken by an open dumpster.

            Cal pulled himself out of the dumpster and sprinted to his truck. His hands fumbled with his keys, unlocking his car and flipping the ignition in record time. He didn’t even bother to buckle as he sped out of the apartment’s parking lot.

            Callum returned home as a man with a target on his back.