Addict

Jack spit on the ground. A bitter taste in his mouth didn’t want to wear off - “as if a cat took a shit in my mouth”, his grandma used to say in such cases. Jack chuckled from this distant childhood memory, and an unexpected vicious cough tore his throat apart. He instinctively put his hand forward to hold onto something, grabbed a doorjamb and tried his best to keep the balance. Yeah. The moment he left his house the world kindly reminded him of his place.

Three ambulances drove one by one, a barely distinguishable siren sound first appeared then faded away, a stray dog barked nearby. Jack waited for the coughing to stop and finally let the door go. His throat was on fire, head spinning and any movement resulted in a dull muscle pain. Luckily, he didn’t have to go far.

Two blocks down the street, turn right, three more blocks and he would be there, standing in a dark alleyway waiting for a hooded guy to approach him. He had the stuff, Jack knew it. He always had it, the stuff that will make all this pain go away, that will make his existence bearable for once. Jack craved for it. With his hands trembling he reached his pocket again to make sure he had cash. One, two, three… Exactly fifteen dollars, enough to buy him a dose for tonight. Had he showed up without the money once more, the guy wouldn’t even beat him or threaten or anything. He would just look at Jack kneeling and begging, promising to suck his dick and become a slave, and then leave to never come back to this alleyway again. Jack couldn’t allow it, and it wasn’t going to happen tonight.

The usual 10 minute walk took more than half an hour for him today. Jack had to stop a few times to catch a breath and wait for the blackness in front of his eyes to pass. The hooded guy was already there.

- You didn’t rush today, huh, - he said. - Maybe you don’t even need your stuff anymore?

Jack sped up. He couldn’t make the guy angry.

- Jesus, - said the guy as soon as Jack came closer. - Look at you, a fucking zombie, no less.
- You have it?
- Cash first.

Jack reached his pocket, but a coughing spasm made him double over. This time something went wrong. Aside from pain burning him from inside, he felt something warm coming out of his lungs, and spit out a blood clot.

- Oh fuck… - The hooded guy recoiled back from Jack. - Jesus fucking Christ.
- I have the money. - Jack wiped his mouth with an elbow.
- You got a fucking virus man.
- The hell are you talking about?
- Haven’t you fucking heard? It’s the new virus, people die from this shit in one day. First you cough, you spit blood, then you have seizures and then die, man.

Jack couldn’t wait any longer. He was shaking and his legs weren’t holding him anymore. He raised  his hand with crumpled dollar bills and a drop of blood fell on it from his mouth. The guy looked at Jack with disgust and backed off.

- Look, I just need a shot…
- Get yourself a pill from it man. At any pharmacy, it costs maybe ten bucks.
- I only have fifteen.
- Well I don’t give a fuck, come back when you have enough.
- Give me the dose.
- You will fucking die tomorrow, you get it?

Jack stopped to think for a moment. But it wasn’t a real choice for him, not anymore.

- At least I will die not in pain.

The guy took off the hood and looked at Jack’s eyes. They were empty and sick, the eyes of someone who was dead long before. He took the money from Jack’s trembling hand and threw the blooded bill on the ground along with a small plastic bag he took out of his pocket, then turned and left.

Jack felt happy he had the virus.