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+--- Thread: Origins: Zane Norrison aka Zombie (Part 1) (/showthread.php?tid=33188)
Origins: Zane Norrison aka Zombie (Part 1) - Zane Norrison - 04-07-2019
Midnight
April 18, 2016
Detroit, Michigan
The club was poppin' when I walked through the front door, with intentions of making deliveries to a few of my frequent customers. These deliveries would pertain to some of the best pharmaceuticals and top grade hallucinogens available for purchase on the streets of Detroit, to date. Dropped off by yours truly for a meager extra service charge on top of the original cost, my products were without a doubt, worth it. Not to mention the fact that you were always given service with a smile, from one of the most charming dealers that a person could be granted the privilege of doing business with. Although, if I'm being totally honest, it was my hustle and sheer work ethic that really sold people on the price. You could chill and not worry about pick ups in the super shady parts of town, since I came out to you. Rarely did I fail to meet the public's need or expectations.
It usually depended on how fucked up I was that evening.
Luckily, I had built up a rather towering sized tolerance by that point, so the chances of me falling short of making a sale was slim to nil. With this night being no different. Despite the fact that I was soaring on a mixture of ketamine, coke and some top notch mdma. My pupils were dilated to the size of dinner plates, a condition that would have been fairly obvious for anyone to notice, had I not been wearing sunglasses. FYI... never would that be the case. I made it a habit to wear my sunglasses at night. Like the song. It was my signature look. A trademark that most of my clientèle had grown to recognize. Just search for the skinny white dude, rockin' leather pants and wearing sunglasses in the dark and more than likely, you would've found me.
Back then, I was by all rights and definitions, "the candy man". This was a well established fact about me. So all types of folks were constantly in search of me. People that I didn't even know, understood to be on the look out. If you witnessed me walking into the club, the odds were fairly great that my presence was requested and that meant someone was in the mood to alter their perception of reality in some way or fashion. Haha! More than likely, many someones. This was how I earned a living and afforded my luxury life of rolling out of bed at dusk, only to stay up all night, while keeping a steady stream of designer drugs flowing through my system.
It was quite the life. Truly. And I was flying high. Burning up at the speed of light. Nothing was going to bring me down. I was untouchable. Or that's what I thought. What I foolishly convinced myself was the truth. Little did I know, I was destined to die. Fated to perish and meant to become a monster. A real life abomination, the thing of nightmares, folklore and horror films. If only I had a crystal ball, that permitted me to see into the future. Maybe I would have stayed in for the night. Unfortunately, that's not how this tale was doomed to end. When I would bid the land of the living farewell and become a zombie.
As I mentioned the atmosphere when I strolled into the club that night was wild. Smoky yet inviting. Perfectly infused with a combination of lights and killer beats. Ordinarily, I wasn't a fan of techno but on this particular night, I was really feeling the groove. Probably because I was hella high. Females were looking fine as fuck too. Ripe for the picking. You see, being "the candy man" came with certain perks and privileges, when it involved the opposite sex. Might have been morally questionable to take advantage of that aspect but I didn't care. All I knew was that it provided me with a constant, consistent, never failing way to get laid and I was rather fond of getting my dick wet. As much as any straight, single male would be interested in accomplishing. Okay... maybe a tad more than that. Sometimes, I'd hook up with two to three ladies, per night. Who's counting though? I didn't.
You would be surprised what some women were willing to do for party favors. The word - no, wasn't a part of their vocabulary and that suited me just fine. I mean it's not like I was looking for a partner or a girlfriend, it was all about the right now kind of girl, over the forever type of female. There wasn't a question of if it would happen, it was simply a matter of when. Diseases weren't an element that needed to be considered either, at least not in my world. I was indestructible. That's how I felt anyway. Funny to think back on how flawed that mentality was in light of the knowledge that I was very mortal at the time. Susceptible to sickness and fully capable of catching some really awful shit and yet, I managed to stay clean and std free. It was uncanny to say the least, I seriously must have been the most fortunate man to wield the impaired judgement and poor thought process that I did. The life of a drug dealing whore, living the dream of doing what he wanted, when he wanted, while suffering zero of the consequences brought on by his actions.
Yet, before I could focus my attention on having fun, I needed to make sure that I conducted business first. Business before pleasure, that was the rule that allowed me to thrive in that industry. Making rounds to my regulars and hooking up a few extra along the way, I made mad bank. My wallet was fat within an hour. Loaded with enough cash to slow my roll and start feeling frisky. Let myself get distracted, so to speak. I wound up near the back of the club with a girl who literally decided to pull off her best impersonation of a hoover vac. Nobody does it better, right? I sure as heck wasn't complaining. That was the sort of crazy environment that I usually found myself, willingly walking into on an almost regular basis. The type of places where you might wind up receiving head in a dark corner. Already having a questionable character myself, this didn't shock or phase me one bit. I was a different man back then and that wasn't merely due to the fact that I had a pulse.
By the end of the night, I was feeling good. Satisfied from the night's profits and various other reasons. You know, to this day I can't remember the names of the chicks that I hooked up with. Not that I ever made that a priority. It would still be nice to think that I recalled some component about the evening, past the fact that I sold drugs and messed around with random women. Taking into consideration how monumental of a landmark it would lead into becoming. My last night of freedom... and life. Part of me wants to say that one of them was blond but I wouldn't hold me to that memory. Anyway, I left the club sometime around 4am and started my journey home. With public transportation being my best friend at the time. I knew how to drive, I just didn't like going on these adventures, whilst stationed behind the wheel of an automobile. On top of that, I wasn't too keen on carrying identification with me, during my travels. A habit that one simply picks up, when they make slinging drugs their main source of income. You never know when you might get surprised by that fucked up horn and flashing blue lights, indicating Five-0 is rolling on your ass. Best be prepared.
Still high but gradually coming down, I made my way down the criminal's sidewalks... aka the alley ways. Firing up a cigarette, I barely paid any mind to my surrounding area, past the fact that I strutted forward. Not the best way to travel in the neighborhoods that I frequented. Then again, that's another misjudgment I carried with me that showcased how lucky I was, back when I lived and thrived as "the candy man". Right before I neared the end of the alley, which led out to the street and the stop for my bus, I sensed someone following me. The footsteps were soft, barely present and faint but there was definitely the sound of shuffling behind me.
Before I could turn around, I felt someone grab me by the back of the neck, accompanied with the distinct prick of a needle. This caused me to pivot swiftly; however, whatever drugs I was injected with were already taking effect and combined with the remaining stuff that existed in my system. A virtual salad bowl resided inside. So when I turned, my movements were conducted without any balance or coordination whatsoever. The ground sincerely felt like it popped up and grabbed me. Yanking me down with it in the process. Basically meaning, I fell. Not my finest moment, I was in no condition to worry about that. Being that I couldn't stand and my vision was going in and out on me, in a style that was akin to someone flipping a light switch on and off, in a rapid succession.
In front of me, there were four humanoid shapes. When I actually witnessed this, I could barely make them out or distinguish them outside of that feature. They were shadows and colors, nothing more. Keeping conscious was a real struggle too. No matter how much I shook my head, to rid myself of the metaphorical cobwebs and snap myself out of the looming haze that was threatening to overtake me, I couldn't fight it off. The figures walked toward me as I scooted back away from them on my ass. All attempts to do anything else beyond that was thwarted by my own klutzy, bumbling maneuvering. Fear rose upward within me but I couldn't even scream for help, I opened my mouth but no sound came out. My vocal chords felt strained and the best I could do was choke out a hoarse - "Help". That's right about when the lights went out completely and I lost consciousness. Right there in the middle of the alley, I dropped back and whatever happened next was completely unknown to me. All I know is that I would wake up later; with time being a variable uncertainty, only to discover that I was trapped inside a makeshift cell of sorts. Encased in a room that from what I could tell, didn't have an exit.
My head hurt tremendously, it pounded nonstop and along with this sensation came the undeniable urge to retch. Rising in increasing waves. This was unlike any comedown or hangover that I ever experienced before. I was also freezing and my stomach hurt to the point, where it felt like I was being gutted, from within. Like something was fighting its way out, burrowing forth from deep inside me. Breathing was a serious struggle as well, that I fought to maintain in labored yet rapid breaths.
Slowly, in spite of all this, I lifted myself up into a sitting position on the cot that I was laying on and looked around. My eyes adjusting to the darkness as I trembled in both fright and from the intense chill that had me captured in its frigid grasp. Beside the cot there seemed to be an IV machine attached to me. The bag that had been drained nearly to completion, held the remnants of a strange, neon yellow liquid. Whatever that substance was, had been fed into my veins while I was unconscious and carried the real possibility of being the cause for my condition.
Instinct told me to rip the needle from my arm. I grabbed it and attempted to give a good pull but as I did that, I heard a door open. From where, I couldn't tell because even though my eyes had adjusted to the dark, there wasn't a clear shape of a door anywhere. The only explanation that I could figure for this being the case was that it was a sliding door and there wasn't a doorhandle on my side. Then a man and a woman both stepped inside the makeshift prison cell, carrying clip boards. They wore white lab coats and expressions of pure elation. It was sadistic and cruel, to transmit such happiness openly at me. I mean I was in absolute torment and they wielded the faces of children on Christmas morning.
After the duo appeared, the woman approached me, producing a small flashlight that she shone in my eyes as she bent forward. It felt like burning. Almost like someone tossed acid in my eyes and not the fun kind that could make you trip balls. The kind that seared with immense agony and promised the prospect of blinding you. I shunned away from her and tried to shield my eyes but she simply latched onto my chin, with an iron grip and peered into my eyes all the more. Ultimately leading to me screaming out, a reaction that forced her to release her grasp.
"The procedure seems to have been a success."
The woman stated to the man.
"Now we wait."
"Wait for what?"
My voice was shaky, almost timid sounding.
"What did you do to me?"
Neither responded to my question. They merely stared at each other, nodded and left. The sound of a heavy bolt sliding into place, the only noise that came next.
To Be Continued...