H: Chapter Thirteen:

We made it to Des Moines at a speed of a-hundred-ten miles-per-hour. We left at four A.M and got there when the sun was rising. It wasn’t all rainbows and unicorns on the way there. The reality was much more dark and disgusting.

About halfway through Thomas finished his novel, and didn’t like the ending. So what does he do?

“STUPID FUCKING BOOK!” He screamed, launching the paper-back novel through the window and out onto the road.

“What the fuck was that?” I shouted to the back of the van.

Thomas sat up and crossed his arms, pouting. “The ending isn’t even an ending! And the entire book is just about fucking! I-I-It’s just stupid! Stupid! Stupid!”
“Okay, calm down.” Said Travis, placing his hand on Thomas’s shoulder.

This is when Jack sat up and said, “No one in the history of ever saying, ‘calm down,’ has calmed down. What we need to do is go to the author’s house, and tell him how shitty it was.”
“That wouldn’t work.” Thomas said. “The guy died in the nineties.”

“Am I the only voice of reason here?” I said. “It’s a fuckin’ novel, doesn’t even matter.”

We fell back into silence. I began to get a shrivel of worry in my chest for Travis, though it dissipated in time. The poor fucker was sitting there, sweating his balls off, and dry-heaving. I turned to him and said, “You alright?”

Travis nodded slowly. “Yeah…. I-I’m fine. Just a little… off.” The withdrawals were setting in and he didn’t want to admit it. Soon he’d have agonizing pain in his joints and start puking everywhere. It was a race against time.

About twenty minutes later Travis asked me, “Can… can you pull over? I need too…”

“What?” I said. “I can’t fucking hear you, stop whispering.”

“I said, I need…. I need….” Travis bellied over and vomited. Little chunks of what he had eaten spilled out onto the dashboard.

“Oh, dude….” I groaned, curling my lip.

* * *

We sat in the van, parked just outside a Waffle-House. If there was a fast food restaurant where drug deals took place, this was it. Dirt and grime stained the windows and exterior walls. The glass door had a random piece of blue packing tape stuck to the handle. It also seemed that part of the roof had fallen in as a small section of it was covered with a tarp.

Jack sat in the front seat. For the past minute he had been leaning forward, peering through the windows. “That’s the guy right there.” Jack pointed to a man sitting at a table in a gray beanie. “I’ll go in, you guys wait here.”

Travis leaned forward in his seat, and turned to Jack. “You sure? What if something happens?”

“Trust me, nothing’ll go wrong. I’ve met this guy a bunch of times.” Jack said, hovering his hand over the door-handle.

“Who the hell cares?” I groaned. “Just go inside and get us some H. I’m tired of fuckin’ waiting.”

Jack snickered and opened the door. Before he exited the van, he turned to me and said, “You’re like a five-year-old, Payte.” And slammed the door.

Jack walked up to the door of the McDonald’s and flung the door open. He dusted off the collars of his shirt and took a seat next to the dealer.

The dealer grimaces, revealing yellowed teeth and receding gums. “Hello there, Jaqueline.” The dealer says. He kind of pirouettes his hands in the air, a subtle, yet strange, wave.

“Hey.” Jack says with a stern face. He sits down at the table and folds his hands together. The table is red and oddly sticky. Jack realizes this, and hovers his hands about a half-inch above the table.

“So, you got the…” Jack starts. He leans in and whispers, “the product?”

The dealer nods rapidly, like a wind-up doll. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I… I gots it. You know?” The dealer pauses to lick his lips. His smelly breath hits Jack’s nostrils and he chokes. “Listen, I’m not supposed to tell you this, but the trees have spirits in them.”

Jack kind of smiles, but not the humorous-type smile. He’s rather creeped out. “The trees, huh?” He says.

“Yeah, yeah, The trees.”

“So… do you got the product or not?”

“It’s, uh, not on me… at this very peculiar moment. I-I have it at home.”

Jack sighs and leans backwards in his seat. “Well, what do you want for it?”

“A tractor.”

Jack pauses, making sure he heard that correctly. “A… a tractor?”

The dealer nods rapidly. It seems as if he’s going to break a vertebrae. He also talks with his hands, making him seem aggressive. “I need it for a… special project. I’ve been commanded to get it.”
“Commanded?” Jack bites down on his lip as his eyes go wide. “Okay…”

“I already have one picked out.” The dealer says. He reaches into the pockets of his hoodie and retrieves a napkin with writing on it in sharpie. He does a double-take around and slides it across the table. “This is the address to the mothership. It’s where my baby is hiding.”
Jack grabs the napkin and looks at it. It’s a bunch of sloppy words written in sharpie. The address is to a farm in Knoxville, Tenessee. Jack grimaces, Payte isn’t gonna be happy, he thinks.

“And where do we take it? Y’know, once we get it?”

The dealer lets out a laugh and a smile crosses his face. He grabs a napkin and jots down his phone-numer. He slides it across the table and into Jack’s hands. “Text me when you get my baby back. Then we’ll decide the question.”

“Alright, cool. We’ll get… your tractor to you.” Jack says. He stands up and walks out of the McDonald’s, thankful he didn’t end up getting stabbed or anything like that.

“How’d it go?” I asked as Jack climbed into the passenger seat. He sighed and reached into his pocket, then handed the napkin to me.

“So we gotta go to Knoxville?” I asked.

“Yeah….” Jack said, irritated.

I sighed and put the van into drive. “Let’s get on our way then.”

* * *

The plan was that we’d drop the van off at a train station. We’d then hop on the train as stowaways, and make our way to Knoxville. We’d then drive the tractor to the meeting place. The tractor would be turned in, and we’d get our fix. Then we would take a train ride back.

“That’s the barn, right there.” I said to Jack, pointing over the hills. We were at the farm, sitting under blankets of stars. We sat in the van, just outside the rusty gate. Over the horizon, was the red barn, laying there unlocked. Just past the barn was an old farm-house, which looked as if the slightest breeze could make it fall apart.

During the entire drive, I had this strange sinking feeling in the pits of my stomach that we had screwed ourselves over. All we would do is keep buying more H, then we’d run out of money, and then we’d have to scrounge for more money. The cycle never ended. We fucked ourselves real bad.

Thomas sat in the first row of seats, staring up at the farm and scratching his head. “Payte?” He said.

I turned around and looked at him, “Yeah? What is it?”

He sighed and answered, “I don’t wanna start anything, but this seems a little…”

“Crazy?” I said.

Thomas nodded rigidly, “Yeah, crazy’s the word. I’m not sure I wanna be a part of this.”
“Well,” I started. “It’s fine if you don’t wanna help out.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, totally. But if we get like ten grams, you’ll only get like, one. You know, since you didn’t help out.”

Thomas clenched his teeth. “Fine.” He said. “I’ll keep watch.”

I nodded and smiled. “Good, you’ll do fine.”

I snapped my fingers to get everyone’s attention. My eyes darted back and forth to Travis, Thomas, and Jack. “So here’s the plan: Thomas and I will keep watch. While you,” I said, pointing to Travis, “And Jack will start the tractor and drive it out of here. Everyone understand?”

Travis slumped back in his seat while a grimace was painted on his face. “I don’t know about this man, it seems really dangerous. What if we get killed?”

Jack raised his hand and said, “Yeah, I’m having second thoughts about this too.”
I rolled my eyes. “Do you guys want your fix or not? This is the only option we have. And Jack, this was your idea in the first place, and now you wanna suddenly pull out? Grab yourselves by the balls, and let’s fuckin’ do this.”

Travis slowly nodded. “Alright,” he said with a heavy breath, “Let’s do this.” He got up from his seat and slid open the van door. He jumped outside and landed on the wet grass. Thomas sighed and slowly followed.

We all stood outside, waiting for Jack. Eventually, he climbed outside, holding a baggy of white powder. “Before we do this, we’re gonna need some juice.”

“Cocaine, really?” Thomas said.

Jack snickered. “Don’t act like you’ve never not done it.” He licked his finger and dipped it into the bag. He pulled his pointer-finger out of the bag and brought it to his nose, then snorted it. His head kicked back and he stomped the ground. A smile crossed over his face, and his eyes lost the light in them.

“Here.” Jack said with a slight shakiness to his voice. “It’s your turn.” He gave the bag to me and I did the same. Soon we had all had our juice, and we were ready to steal the damn tractor. I could see it then, it would be glorious. The poor farmer had no idea what was coming to him.

We raced up to the gate and climbed over it. Thomas fell on his ass but soon got up. We raced towards the barn, keeping our heads low, and our footsteps quiet. We had reached the barn when the juice kicked in completely.

“Man,” Travis said. “What type of tractor do you think this is?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know, the usual one?”

Travis shook his head rapidly, “No, maybe John Deere?”

Thomas laughed and said, “Nah, it’s probably some motherfuckin’ machine of sorts.”

“Everyone shut the fuck up!” I shouted. “We need to be quiet!”

“Then you shut the fuck up.” Jack said. “You’re being just as loud, maybe even louder.”
“Fuck you.” I said. I gripped the handles on the barn door and opened them. They were heavier than you think.

In the dark, the tractor sat. It was this big, green, bulk of a machine. Travis and Jack went inside while I waited outside with Thomas.

As Travis and Jack climbed up the tractor, Thomas turned to me. “Hey, you think the farmer is going to wake up?”

I shook my head and lit a cigarette. “Not unless we make anymore noise than we already have. We’ll be fine.”

Thomas nodded and we fell into silence. “Have you done anything like this before? Steal something this big?”
I shrugged and took a drag of my cigarette. “Back in Seattle me and my buddies would steal shit all the time. Never a tractor though.”

Just as the words left my mouth a loud crash sounded from the inside of the barn. Then a sickening crunch followed. I tossed my cigarette onto the ground and and peered inside. “The hell’s going on in there?”

Travis was standing right on the tractor. He turned to me with a pained grimace on his face. “Jack fell off the tractor, man! I think he’s really hurt!”

I looked down on the ground and saw Jack rolling around on the dirt, clutching his right arm. “Oh, fuck. I think I broke my arm! It hurts, man, it fucking hurts!” Tears rolled down his red face.

I walked further inside. “Shut up! Everyone shut the fuck up!” I turned around and pointed at Thomas. “Stay on watch! I’ll figure something out.”

I walked up to the tractor and stared at Travis, who sat there frozen in fear. “Where are the keys?” I asked.

“I-In the ignition.”

“Then why aren’t you fucking driving? Are you stupid?”

Travis shook like he was in a blender. “I-I-I don’t know how!”

“Well, does it have gas pedals?”

“Yeah.”

“Does it have a clutch?”

“Um…” Travis spun around, searching in every direction. Eventually his eyes landed on the bottom of the tractor. “Yeah, it does.”

“Then fucking drive you moron!”
Travis twisted the keys and the tractor came to life with a sickening roar. I raced towards Jack and brought him up on his feet. I cupped my hands and he stepped on them. He brought himself up and sat on the tractor. I used the steps to climb up, and took a seat behind Travis. “Go! Hurry up!”

Travis slammed on the gas pedal and the tractor began moving, albeit at a slow pace. We made it out of the barn and I reached my hand out for Thomas to grab. His hand met mine and I lifted him up. We were all on the tractor, and gaining speed.

“Hey you! Get off my damn tractor!” A loud voice boomed behind us. I looked behind me and saw the farmer standing in a white tank-top and boxers, holding a shotgun at us.

“Fuck you!” I said. “This is our tractor now!” I flipped him off.

The farmer mumbled some curse words as he loaded the shotgun. He soon began firing off rounds into the night.

“He’s fucking shooting at us now!” I screamed. “Go faster!”

“I’m going as fast I can!” Travis groaned.

“I don’t care!” I said. “Find some way to go faster!”

A buckshot zoomed over my head and I ducked down. It hit the tractor and ricocheted off into the air.

We were approaching the gate at a moderate speed. As the farmer fired round after round, we plunged through the gate, which fell onto the grass. We made it onto the road and I turned around, flipping the farmer off again.

“Uh, Payte.” Jack whined.

“What? What is it?”

“Look at the barn!”
I turned around and saw that the barn became engulfed in flame, from my cigarette tossed onto the ground. The poor farmer was standing there, staring at the flames, frozen in shock.

* * *

JACK’S FIRST EVER STAY AT A DRUG REHABILITATION CENTER

St. Peter’s Drug Rehabilitation Center For Teens is located on a farm in Bum-Fuck-Egypt, California. The patients can leave anytime they want too. The only thing barring them from doing this is that there is nothing for at least twenty miles. The only friend Jack ever made at St Peter’s Drug Rehabilitation Center for Teens was a sixteen-year-old named Miles, who calculated the exact amount of water and food needed for a person to hike the twenty-miles. It’s not impossible to grab the amount of water and food needed, it’s just the fact that everyone is too lazy to hike the twenty-miles.

And we now open with an establishing shot of Jack sitting at a table. He has been tasked with making a macaroni art piece depicting his drug of choice, marijuana. After the art piece is done, the patients shall tear it to shreds and burn it. A ritualistic metaphor for quitting drugs.

“Hey…” Miles whispers over to Jack. He bends his head to the side and stares down at Jack, who is busy gluing little pasta pieces to the paper.

Jack looks up at Miles and notices that his cystic acne has cleared up since the first time they met. “Yeah, Miles? What’s up?”

Miles grabs his macaroni art and lifts it up for Jack to see. It’s a giant beer bottle. “What did you make? A weed leaf?”

Jack shakes his head and shows his art to Miles. “I made a giant dick.” Jack says with a shit-eating grin. What Jack failed to mention was that he added dried glue to the head of the penis in the shape of a worm with an oval-shaped head.

“Dude…” Miles says softly. His eyes are just as wide as the moon as he speaks. “You’re gonna get kicked out for that!”

Jack shrugs, “So?”

“So? You fucking dumbass, give it here.” Miles leans over and grabs the paper from Jack, and gives Jack the macaroni art piece of a bottle.

The instructor, Dr. Sarah Mass (who the patients called Sarah Ass, for having a big, well… you get the picture) soon comes around to Miles’s table and sees the big dick-shaped macaroni art piece. She grimaces and stares at Miles while he shows another stupid grin.

“What is this?” Dr. Sarah Mass asks, looking at the picture.

“It’s for you.” Miles says. “Come to my room tonight and you’ll find out,” he finishes with a wink. Nothing can stop the pubescent hormones of male teenagers.

“That’s inappropriate, Miles.” Sarah says with a stern face. “You’re here to recover, why aren’t you taking this seriously?” A wave of embarrassment washes over Miles’s face. He hangs his head low and stares at the ground.

* * *

“Fuck, my arm.” Jack moaned. Thomas was busy standing over him and wrapping his arm in a t-shirt. When the wrapping was done, Thomas grabbed a stick and placed it in between the shirt and Jack’s skin.

“Do we gotta set the bone?” Jack asked. His voice was weak and high-pitched. It was clear the poor kid was terrified.

Thomas grimaced, “Uh, I don’t think so?”

“That’s very reassuring, thanks.”

“Listen,” Thomas started. “I’m the one trying to help you, you really wanna piss me off now?”

We were currently parked right next to a river, about five miles west of the farm. It was my guess that the river led through the farmer’s land. We would camp here for the night, and head back to Iowa the next day.

Travis and I sat at the edge of the river, dipping our toes in the water, and chain-smoking.

“What a fuckin’ day, man.” I said. I laid down and rested my head on the grass. I brought my cigarette to my mouth and took a drag.

“Yeah.” Travis said, exasperated. “I think that was the most tense situation I’ve ever been in.”

I half-shrugged, as much as I could do while laying on the ground. “Eh, I’ve been in worse.”

Travis raised an eyebrow, “Like what?”

I sat up and said, “You would not believe some of the shit I got into when I was living in that fuckin’ trailer-park.”

“What’d you do?”

“Like knife-fights and shit. One time me and my buddies hot-wired a car.”

“What year was it?”

“Huh? Why’re you asking?”

“Just curious.”
“It was… a twenty-seventeen Sedan, or something.”
“If it was that recent, you can’t hot-wire that shit.” Travis said. “You can’t even get through the steering column without a fuckin’ grinder.”
My face fell, “Dude, if you know so much about cars, why don’t you fix the fucking rattling in Bessie instead of correcting me about, by the way, completely true, stories?”

“Sorry…”

“It’s fine.”
“…”

“…”

“Hey, Payte?”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“Do you think the farmer’s alright?”

I shrugged, “Eh, probably burned to death or something.”

“What?!”
“I’m fucking with you. The barn’s gone, but I’m sure he’s fine, sadly.”

“Why sadly?”

I stood up and sighed. “I’m goin’ to sleep.” I said, and walked over into a clearing of trees.

* * *

Five days. Five days of non-stop decadent, hedonistic, euphoric, body-relaxing, mind-numbing, highs. Five days of constant injections and flying. Five days of spending hours in a stall. Five days of sleeping in abandoned houses. Five days of needles being pressed into your veins. Five days of the best euphoria, better than you or anyone else can imagine.

Over the span of one day, we delivered the tractor to the dealer, and made it back to Pittsburgh where we had left the van at. You should try driving down a high-way in a slow tractor. There’s nothing you can while you’re forced to go at twenty-five miles-per-hour as every car on the road honks and bitches at you. But it was worth it. We ended up getting fifteen-grams of H for the tractor. Originally he wanted to only give us five. He raised that after I tried to plant my fist into his skull. At the last second, Jack grabbed my hand and shoved me down into my seat.

This exchange kicked off the five days mentioned prior. During those five days we subsisted off a diet of only cigarettes, caffeine, heroin, and self-hatred. Each morning we would all chug an energy drink, and then find a nice secluded spot to shoot up in. We would spend the entire day shooting up. Needle after needle. High after high. Then the next day we’d move to another spot, and rinse and repeat. Sometimes it was an abandoned shed, or a seedy gas-station bathroom. There was nothing better in the world to us than black. It is truly, the only thing that could get a man to give up his kids, job, sex, and wife. Or, husband, if you’re into that.

Sometimes after the high, I’d forget where I was. I would then turn to Travis and ask. To which, he’d reply, “I don’t fucking know dude. Why’re you asking me?” while busy tying a rubber band around his arm.

Then Jack would chime in and say something like, “I feel like I’m in the warmest bath,” while humming like a bird.

Thomas would then say, “It’s all about the mind. If you concentrate extremely hard on the high, you will make it stronger.”

One of these days, we found ourselves in an abandoned truck-stop, holed up in the bathroom. Spiders crawled out from the dusty air-vents, and the area had the smell of rust and shame. I looked around and saw Travis was slumped up against the wall, pouting. “What the fuck’s up with you?” I asked.

Travis looked down at the ground for a moment, gathering his words. “We burned down that farmer’s land. We might’ve killed him.”

“You can’t worry about that shit.” I said. “Maybe he shouldn’t have had a prized tractor, in an unlocked, barn.”

Jack snickered and said, “That’s the stupidest logic I’ve ever head. But, Payte has a point, Travis. You can’t worry about that shit. What’s done is done, and we got H out of it.”

Travis stood up and clenched his fists. He stuck his head out and yelled, “You guys are fucking sociopaths!”

I chuckled and said, “Oh, stop your whining.”

Tears of red hot rage flowed down Travis’s cheeked. He flipped me off and yelled, “Fuck you, Payte! I’m getting out of here.” He moved towards the door and opened it. “Fuck you all!” He screamed, then slammed the door.

Jack sighed and slumped up against the wall. He pulled the syringe out of his arm and looked at me. “Payte, why do you gotta be such an asshole?”