Across the thin white line... Chapter 1

It began like this...

The music came on upstairs with a sudden rumble of bass, vibrating though the walls of the small room beneath it. Lennie, the man who lived in the room, rolled his eyes, licked the tip of his fingers, chose a spoon from the three on the table in front of him and began to crush the assortment of narcotics he had spent the better part of this dismal and rainy Tuesday morning acquiring. First he poured the compacted rocks of the cocaine onto the folded face of the British Queen and then he placed the image of the first Canadian Prime Minister on top of it. The cocaine was quickly reduced to a fine powder.

Four grams of the off-white powder made quite a nice little pile - like a miniature snow hill, all Lennie needed to do was imagine small figures on toboggans and the image would be perfect. He rubbed his eyes with his free hand and sighed. This was not the time for frivolity and fun imaginations and he was suddenly overwhelmed with guilt. He needed to hurry if he going to save her. He didn't know how he knew this, but he did know it was true as certainly as he knew the sun would rise the next morning.

He didn't have much time left to do this and he had wasted a lot of time finding a dealer who sold the dilaudid he was told he needed in the quantiy he needed. In comparison the cocaine was as easy as going down to the local variety store and buying three bags of 2% milk. The special powder he needed more than anything else had taken the most time - but curiously he had predicted he would need several hours to get it and sure enough that was erxactly what it took. He was glad he had left that task for last though. As for the Dilaudid, he had needed to go to several dealers he knew personally until he found someone who knew someone who might have what he needed.

It was Ricky the Smile who eventually told Lennie about Peter. Normally dilaudid was fairly easy to find and usually it was only ten dollars a pill - Peter was asking fifteen and you had to agree to buy a minimum of three before he'd even let you in the door. To make matters worse Lennie had to go through a middle man which cut into both his time and his pocketbook. The money meant nothing at all, but the timetable he had found himself forced to follow was critical.

As it was, if it wasn't for the time constraints Lennie would have told the Smile to tell Peter to shove the overpriced dillies up Peter's little Guatemalan ass...

Unfortunately Lennie simply could not risk it.

Instead, he made a mental note that if he made it back and if he managed to save Jane...
After they spent enough time in bed wrapped in each others arms, hopefully making love as many times as they possibly physically could...
After they had sucked on each others toes and nipples and shoulderblades and he got down on his knees and thanked every diety he could possibly thank for not allowing anything bad to happen to her..

After these things happened, he would get up, untangle himself from her arms and legs and other parts, he would get dressed, go out and take the time to instruct both the Smile and Peter in the lost art of time management - Lennie hoped that they would do poorly in recieving said instruction and that he would need to use both his heavy boots and his fists as teaching aids...

In reality he was angry at himself and at the man known as Johnny the Devil but since Johnny the Devil was too far up the totem pole to touch in any way -and since Lennie was not at all masachistic in any way, Lennoie knew that he would have to take his anger out on those people he could touch.

This would, however, need to wait until much later as few things Lennie imagined ever unfolded as he had originally intended them too. He really hoped that this particular case would be an exception to the rule.

He would also need to tell the man who would eventually agree to sell him the 4 pills he needed, that he did not enjoy being overcharged and the notion of a minimum purchase was a bit of a joykill for a drug dealer who sold an incredibly addictive narcotic. Second only to heroin in the hierarchy of drug culture.

Lennie doubted that the Smile would say anything at all to Peter about the cost of doing business considering the twenty dollar surcharge Ricky the Smile had the tendency of adding on to any favour he did. Although it did explain the incredibly ugly man's need to smile so fucking much...

When Peter opened the door to Lennie, he immediately began to smirk - the kind of smirk Lennie recognized immediately. He had seen it on many dealer before - it was mainly reserved for dealers who smugly peddled junk or some other kind of opiate. It was a look that said "come in, sit down, shut up, laugh at my jokes, nod at my stories and when i get tired of you or if something better comes along i well eventually get off my skinny little spic ass and get you what you need... but if you piss me off in any way at all, i will cut you off where you stand - no matter how sick you are, no matter how sick your girlfriend is or how iunsanely bad you may or may not need or may or may not insanely want this drug..." Peter knew, from his phone call from the Smile, that Lennie both needed and wanted the pills and that he had, although with some hesitation agreed to the three pill minimum. It took half an hour and much small talk about local politics (a topic that Lennie had no interest in whatsoever) and much sweating on Lennie's part to act enough like a hurting junkie for Peter to eventually get up, walk over to his room-length ceiling to floor bookshelf and remove a book from the shelf...

Had Lennie seen the title of the book Peter removed from the shelf, he may have laughed at the irony of keeping a stash of narcotics in a hollowed out copy of Milton's Paradise Lost. In fact he might have derived such an appreciation of the irony that he may have decided that the activity he was currently engaged in was in fact absolutely the most dangerous thing he had ever done and indubitably insane and that despite the grief he would later feel, he may in fact recover from it over time.

In truth though, Lennie would have never recovered and his life would have become a tragic shell until his untimely and incredibly lonely death sometime in the near future....

On the other hand, since there was not a single book in Lennie's small room it also may be safe to assume that Lennie is not much of a reader and the irony may have been lost on him entirely.

Once Lennie added the four crushed triangular-shaped dilaudid to the mix, it became a slightly taller hill of chemically induced insanity. People have killed and have been killed for less than what was now heading into Lennie's tablespoon.

Although if Lennie's plan worked out the way he had intended - no one would have to die over this bit of drugs - quite the opposite in fact as Lennie intended to do his best to save at least one life with it. Not with it directly but it was his feverish hope that he would be able to save a life if this worked out like he thought it would or rather how he was told it would.

Lennie removed a small folded paper packet from his left breast pocket and opened the flap, pouring the yellow powdered contents of the packet onto the top of the cocaine/dilaudid hill - giving it a crested feeling that both amused and terrified Lennie.

Next he took his syringe and filled it with 70 ml of water from the Flintstone juice glass that sat next to the ashtray on the coffee table that made up the working area in front of him. Using a business card he had fished from his back pocket Lennie scooped the entire pile onto the teaspoon and put the spoon back onto the table. He then squirted the water into the spoon and started to stir the contents with the flat side of the syringe. The powder dissolved easily and soon the entire mix was gone - now replaced with a near clear mixture of incredible potency. Lennie shuddered and tossed a cotton filter into the spoon and began to draw the liquid into the body of the needle.

At 70 ml the liquid was gone and the syringe was full, leaving only a slight oily residue in its wake. Lennie flicked the side of the syringe twice with his middle nail and a few bubbles came loose and floated to the top. Lennie carefully pushed the plunger and released the little bit of air trapped at the top of the syringe and slowly put the needle down on the place mat. His hands shaking so badly now that he knew he would need to wait a few minutes before he did anything let alone hit. He didn't want to wait but he really didn't see any other alternative at this late point in the game...

With one deft movement indicating years of experience Lennie flicked open his belt and with a sudden yank the belt came flying violently out of its restraining loops and made a crack in the open air next to him. Tieing off with a belt always pained Lennie and in his final days as a junkie he had not had much luck tying off with anything at all. He remembered that most, if not all, of his veins were shot to hell. Collapsed entirely, clogged with scar tissue or burnt beyond any reasonable usage.

Lennie did, however, feel his chances were better with a thick belt than with anything else and he began to tighten the belt around his upper forearm.

As he did this, Lennie said a silent prayer for his ill-advised chances and that somehow he could 1. find a suitable vein to shoot this crap into and 2. that this would not kill him and in turn kill Jane.

As Lennie waited for a vein to stand up for delivery his mind went back to his earlier meeting with Johnny the Devil from down at the Bastion Beer Emporium . An evil and strange person if there ever was one. Johnny had supplied the powder that, when combined with the lethal overdose levels of dilly and blow, would send him off and away to a place where he was told that he could do something to save her. He could not think about that now. All he could do was steel himself for this next bit and then if it did indeed work as promised he would figure out what to do next and how to do it then

Lennie knew that he should not trust the devil, but in his eyes it was better to trust a devil you knew than one you did not. Johnny the Devil was someone Lennie had known for nearly twenty years and was a steady fixture in the neighbourhood that Lennie grew up in and as he later learned also a steady fixture in the city's seedy underworld of illegal drugs, illicit gambling and immoral prostitution. The cold hard facts were that if you were involved in any of these three categories: illegal, illicit or immoral than Johnny the Devil likely owned a part of you. He had been a steady fixture at the Bastion Bar and Grill since Lennie was a boy and had acquired his nickname from his early days as a loan shark. This was the story Lennie had heard many times circulating through the neighbourhood, but Lennie had always secretly believed it was because of the shiny-red suit jacket that Johnny always wore. It sparkled in the light and made Johnny appear magical to an eight year old boy. When Johnny walked into a room the lights would bounce off the sequined red jacket and a small light show would occur on the walls, floors and ceiling all around Johnny.

When you mixed the special effects that his jacket provided with his long nose and ferret-like facial features. Not to mention the incredibly oily slicked shiny black hair - you could see instantly that he was really a devil or he was waiting for one. Many had heard it said that Johnny was a living stereotype waiting for someone to breathe life into him. The way Lennie saw it - Johnny was likely the guy who inspired the stereotype in the first place.

Taking a seat directly in front of Johnny's table at the Bastion, Lennie invented a new and equally strange tale about why he needed the powder and why Jane, who was usually always attached protectively to his hip was not there.

Johnny smiled and said nothing.

A woman sitting next to him began to mock Lennie in a strange lilt. "He needs it Johnny" she whined, " I bet Jane needs it more" and then she laughed like a hyena until Johnny the Devil stopped smiling and put his hand up in the air to indicate he wanted her to shut the fuck up.

Johnny the Devil put down his drink on the table and looked at Lennie for a long time before he finally spoke. Lennie could feel a sheet of fine sweat forming on his back, his chest and his forehead. he didn't want to stop and wipe it away and if anything, it lent both credence and credibility to his story about Jane. Johnny looked at Lennie for a few seconds more and asked Lennie if he knew what the powder was used for. Lennie nodded without speaking and the snaky hyena women leaned over to Johnny and whispered something in his ear. Johnny looked at her as if she had bit him and he fixed the hyena lady, who Lennie noticed had enormous front teeth, with such a look that Lennie would swear it made the ill mannered woman wilt in her seat. She fumbled with her purse, excused herself in a quivering voice and scurried off to another part of the restaurant. Lennie did not see where she went but no one said anything for a few seconds after she left.

Johnny the Devil looked at Lennie for a few more minutes and finally picked up his drink and took a long draw on it. The ice cubes in the glass clinked and the sound seemed to reverberate throughout the restaurant. Lennie had been quite positive there had been several people sitting with the Devil when he had originally sat down but they were not there now. He had not seen them get up or leave.

For a second Lennie thought he might have to ask again, perhaps even add some additional details to his story, but as soon as he began to open his mouth Johnny began to speak. Lennie shut his mouth quickly and hoped the Devil didn't notice his impatience.

"You were always nice guy Lennie. a nice kid and i'd wager you are even a nice boyfriend", Johnny began to say, " You know, I knew your father, I knew your mother." Except when Johnny said these words they came out as mudder and fadder instead of the more traditional words. "Ey, I even knew your sistah" and he laughed to himself.
Two large men that Lennie had not noticed before stepped out of the darkness behind the table that Johnny was sitting in and laughed heartily at the not-so-subtle joke. Even Lennie smiled at the joke, hoping to smooth the tense situation over a bit . Lennie could feel himself begin to relax a bit. Maybe, he began to think, this won't be so bad...

Then the situation suddenly and without warning exploded in Lennie's face.

"Then you walk in here, and you lie to me to my face", Johnny the Devil shouts and the smile that had seemed contagious only a second before suddenly disappears from each and every face including Lennie's. The two men that Lennie had only noticed seconds before were now on either side of him.

The Devil continued "You come to me for something you know you can't get anywhere, anywhere else!!" the last two words come out more as a scream then anything else, Johnny's face has turned bright red with anger. The two men have each taken possession of one of Lennie's arms and are slowly pulling them back behind the chair. Lennie is too scared to offer up any resistance. "Do you think I don't know why you really want this shit, do you think i don't know how you know this shit even exists!".

"Fuck!", he screams, "my boys don't even know i have this shit and here you come in here to my place and you lie to me and you think I is going to just hand it over without finding out the real reason you want it!". Lennie's arms feel like they are going to snap beneath the pressure being placed on them by the two men. Tears and snot and sweat cover his face and run into his eyes and into his mouth as he tries to speak. Lennie blinks away what he can and suddenly the Devil is in front of him. He moved so swiftly that Lennie did not even see him move. Johnny the Devil grabs Lennie's face and for a second the pressure in so intense that Lennie feels his eyes begin to bulge in their sockets. His jaw cracks in a way that seems to excite the two gorillas on either side of Lennie. The pressure increases on Lennie's arms and they make similar cracking sounds.

A symphony Lennie thinks in crazed delirium, a symphony of pain, and before he can finish the thought - Johnny the Devil's hand finds its way across Lennie's face. It sounds like a rifle - a sudden crack the hand makes as it strikes Lennie's face and it echos repeatedly in Lennie's head. Blood gushes from Lennie's nose and mouth and suddenly it is over. Darkness washes over Lennie and he is gone.

In the darkness Lennie sees Jane's face reflected in the window of the diner where he first told her that he loved her. It is a good and incredibly sad thought.

Lennie opens his eyes and one of them refuses to do what it is being told. Through one eye, Lennie looks around the room. He is still seated in the same chair. The two goomba's are back in their position - standing behind Johnny the Devil, who has returned to his original coloring. He is sipping his drink and clinking the ice cubes together. He is also watching Lennie very carefully.

Lennie sits up a little straighter and wipes his nose on his sleeve. He uses the cuff to carefully wipe out the gunk out of the bad eye and sees that it is dried blood from his nose or from some other cut he doesn't know about - he has no idea how it dried onto his eye. Also he does not really care. Lennie snuffles a few times and decides to try and speak.

Lennie starts speaking slowly, he tells Johnny he is sorry for lying, He tells Johnny why he lied, he tells Johnny the truth about where he thinks Jane is and why he really needs the powder. Johnny the Devil nods at all the appropriate spots in the story and listens to Lennie without saying a word.

Sometime during the telling of the tale - the two large goombas have disappeared back into the shadows that they originally appeared from. Lennie does not even notice. By the time Lennie finishes the story he is crying and blubbering a little bit - he has not begged Johnny for the powder as of yet, but he is close to doing this.

He has never begged another living soul for anything in his entire life but today he is prepared to throw his thirty-two year record into the garbage for an opportunity to get his hands on this powder. He needs it more than he ever needed junk, more than he ever needed anything, he would hazard a guess that at this particular moment in his life he needs it more than he needs air to breathe.

Lennie could hear a group of people laugh. To Lennie it seems that they are surrounded by laughter and the only people not laughing are Lennie and Johnny the Devil. Once again, Johnny looks at Lennie for a long time before speaking. "I knew..." he begins quietly, "the truth before you told me. What upset me, young man, was the lack of respect you displayed in lying to me. If you had not told me the truth you would not be sitting there right now, I would have had my boys take you into the kitchen and feed you into the meat grinder", Johnny the Devil licks his lips, smiles an evil smile and adds " and then I would have been able to save a few dollars on hamburger this month".

Johnny the Devil stands up and walks over to Lennie. Lennie looks at his own feet , ashamed to meet the Devil's eyes. Knowing he has done the man an injustice. On the street where Lennie grew up, such offences were unforgivable. Truth and lies to the right and wrong people, pride, honour and loyalty - these were the qualities that made or unmade a man.

A small white paper packet lands in Lennie's lap and the Devil continues to walk. He walks past Lennie as Lennie looks in disbelief at the packet lying in his lap.

"You owe me boy, you owe me large and you know that and I know that... One day I am going to ask you to pay me back with a favour in return and you had better fucking be ready to cover the debt..." Lennie nodded dumbly as the Devil continued, " and if you are not ready or if you refuse or if you do anything stupid like lie or run or tell anyone or anything that even remotely feels wrong to me then I will not only feed you into my meat grinder, but I will happily feed your family, your grandparents and every-fucking one you fucking know into it. I will feed you last so you get to watch..."

Lennie continued to nod, not knowing what to say. "Sheeet... I'll be able to offer 1/2 price hamburger for the better part of a year, so you fucking better fucking believe me when I fucking tell you - be ready to pay me back when I fucking ask. Do you fucking understand me Lennie".

"I understand Johnny, I do", Lennie answers, but the devil had already left the room, leaving Lennie alone, bleeding from his nose, his lip and his ear, but he has what he came for.

"Fucking hell..." Lennie mutters to himself and gets up out of the chair, the packet clutched in his right hand and he leaves the Bastion the way he came in.

Looking down at his arm Lennie sees that a vein has made its way to the top. Its a mainline too which will make the whole thing go a bit faster.

Lennie picks up the syringe and pushes the needle into the slightly bulging vein to the right of the groove indicating the bend of his arm. He flags it and a bright red stream of blood rushes into the syringe. He Closes his eys and with a silent prayer and the image of Jane smiling at him in his mind Lennie presses the syringe. The entire contents rushing into his bloodstream over the course of a second. He releases the belt - it falls silently to the floor and he pulls the needle out of his arm.

Now it really begins...