"Ordinary morality is only for ordinary people."

-Aleister Crowley

Ten

It was tough for Will to decipher what the dreams he had been having recently were about. There was an obvious isolation theme with walking around a deserted campus, fog shrouded much of the area except for a small radius of clarity that surrounded him. Maybe his subconscious was trying to tell him that he wasn't thinking clearly, or that he was missing something obvious in his life. But then the kid showed up, which he determined wasn't him nor did it look like anyone he knew as a child. Baseball was something he didn't get to play or know much about. Then the siren; that deafening wailing that somehow seeped into his mind. If he closed his eyes he could still hear it, muted, but lingering somewhere in there.

Will tried not to let it consume him. They were only dreams, after all. He had more pressing matters to attend to, which is why he was riding a bus to the far side of Willamette. For a couple of years, everything had gone smoothly. His distribution of Pure to the townspeople and the college students brought in a good profit. Word had even spread beyond the town, which pleased Horace and the rest of the folks back home. At least he thought it did. In his mind, the point was to reach as many people as possible, and to fund whatever agenda the church back home had. Getting a college education and a chance to escape was a nice little bonus. He would never dare utter that to Horace, or much of anything else. Will got the sense that Horace tolerated him, even though Will had never been difficult to manage or one to make waves. But the waves were starting to form on their own now, and if he didn't get the prospective storm under control, he could find himself cut loose. Maybe even wind up in jail as a fall guy. There was certainly enough evidence in his room.

The end of October meant a couple of things for Willamette. Halloween was a few days away, of course, which meant drunk college kids stumbling around and inevitably a few of them would get arrested. Cops must've loved the overtime pay that Halloween brought them every year. But it was also the rainy season, and often a cold front would roll through, bringing some rough winds. It was the fourth year that Will lived here, and he noticed the same pattern every year. This year though, there hadn't been much rain or wind. It was unusually sunny and warm until two weeks prior, but it did slowly start to get cooler. What Will found unsettling was the fog that was starting to develop around the campus and the town. It seemed to get thicker every day. He couldn't remember if the fog had shown up in the real world or his dreams first.

The town of Willamette had a split personality. Clearview University was on the southeastern border of the town, which was a very quaint area, with mom and pop stores around the main streets. He had heard a girl at a party once say it was rustic chic, whatever the hell that meant. The further north and west you got though, there were less adorable stores, friendly pets and smiling old people, and more stores with bars on windows, or steel shutters pulled down over doors. Smiles were substituted with suspicious glances. Will tried his best to look inauspicious with a frayed, dark gray hoodie and jeans. He must've been succeeding because people left him alone the entire trip.

He got up as the bus approached its stop. A middle-aged woman was getting off the stop too, so Will let her get up in front of him. Naturally, no thanks were provided, or even much of an acknowledgement from the woman. He got off after her and looked across the street at the dilapidated four-story building. There were broken windows to be seen on almost every floor, with some even boarded up. It was not a place that he would go uninvited, or even if he was invited. His visit today was, unfortunately, a necessity.

The fog had started to get a bit thicker, and it was only when he was halfway across the street that he saw three guys hanging out by the doorway. One of them was enormously fat, the other two looked about his size. They were all wearing hoodies of course, and one of them was even wearing a hat covered by the hood. Will didn't understand the point of that, but it was not his place to question fashion choices of people who hung out here.

As Will got closer, the three took notice of him, at which point Will began to slightly shiver. He held his hands together up to breath on them and rub them together, not breaking his stride. Will looked to each of his sides twice, before looking back at them and stopping about five feet away. The guy wearing a hat and a hood stepped forward and held a hand up. Will kept his hands up in full view of them.

"Yo, uh, I was uh…" Will started, scratching at his neck and twitching his head just the slightest, "…um, I heard I could get fixed up here."

"Fixed up? Nah, you must be confused," Hat and Hood Guy started while shaking his finger and pointing down the street, "I think you wanna head back where you came from. Nothin' for you here."

Will looked down the street then back at the guys. He forced a cough, which caused the lead guy to back up a step and look at him with disgust.

"C'mon guys. My friend Mr. P said to ask for Narciso. He said…"

"I don't care what he said, white boy," the lead guy interrupted and started drawing closer to Will, "I said we ain't got nothin' for you here!"

Behind him, the jumbo guy took out a cell phone to make a call. Will's eyes darted between the two of them but fixed on the lead guy who made it a point to show a gun tucked between the waist band on his pants. Will took a step back for every step that the guy approached, holding up his hands again and trying his best to look pathetic. It probably wasn't too difficult, and the thought did cross his mind that it would have indeed been pathetic if he was shot and killed here. Thankfully, he didn't have to think about it too long, as the big guy interrupted.

"Boss says to let him up."

The other two guys looked at the big guy with some surprise, and Will hid a smirk, followed by another couple of coughs. The lead guy stepped out of the way, and Will moved past the three of them into the building. He was vaguely aware that he was being followed by at least one of them as he walked in.

It wasn't much warmer inside. The lights were very dim, with some pockets of darkness in the hallways. The lobby area was deserted; its walls showing the telltale signs of neglect with the occasionally graffiti. One of the words that was sprayed in black simply read, "HELL". Of course, there were names or tags of the artists, but the big one that caught his attention when he faced the hallway wasn't a word at all, but a drawing of a circle with the letter P inside.

"That way, top floor." Will jerked forward and the shove he received from behind and turned to see the thug with the gun that had given him such a warm welcome point down the left hallway. "Go right there."

Will nodded and started down the hall. The lack of respect bothered him, but nothing good would have come from starting a fight.

Pure wasn't the only drug of choice for the denizens of the building. Though he had never taken it, Will knew what the side effects were and how people acted on it. So, he could tell as he peered into the different rooms on his stroll down the hallway who was on it and who was tweaking on something else. The people with the big, silly smiles plastered on their faces and the vacant looks in their eyes were on the product that he supplied. A middle-aged man dressed in rags at the foot of the staircase, with dirt caked permanently into the skin on his face and under his fingernails, however, was on an entirely different trip. A trip that he didn't want to take, but one his body demanded. There was no smile on this man's face; only hints of despair and anguish behind brown eyes.

When he got to the fourth floor, it was easy to figure out where to go, since there was a pile of rubble from the floor to the ceiling to his right. He could also follow the trail of hip-hop that was gradually increasing in volume. People also seemed to live on this floor, as every doorway actually had a door, and it seemed to be maintained in comparison to the others. That was discounting the gigantic blockage behind him.

The only door that was open was the one where Narciso and another guy were playing a basketball video game. There was a small bag lying open on the table, with what looked like a dozen or so empty film canisters, which is what Will used to transport Pure. Will cleared his throat to get their attention. The other guy in the room jumped up as if getting ready for a fight, but Narciso coolly paused the game and waved Will win.

"Head outside and watch the hall. Make sure nobody comes in okay?" Narciso asked the other guy, but it sounded more like an order.

The other guy nodded and started to the door. Will could feel the guy size him up as he walked past, shutting the door behind him. Upon getting a clearer look, he seemed more like a teenager than a man. Something about the way Will looked at him didn't sit right.

"Does he know who I am?" Will asked while pointing at the door.

"Don't worry about it," Narciso started, getting up from the couch and walking towards the small table where the bag was, "he's my brother."

They both sat down at the same time on opposite ends of the table. Will opened the bag a little more to peer in. All the bottles were empty.

"How old is he?"

"Old enough." Narciso stated, nudging the bag towards him. "Looks like we're getting even more popular."

Will moved his hands through the bag, counting to himself how many empties there were. He furrows his brow and shakes his head.

"What do you mean? This is about the same as normal."
The slamming of another bag down onto the table startled Will. Instead of looking up at Narciso, his eyes moved to the next bag, which was also open and full of empty canisters and what was most likely his share of the money. Taking another quick count through the bag, now Will was surprised.

"All of it?" Will chuckled in disbelief. "You sold out of everything already?"

"About a week ahead of schedule." Narciso nodded, leaning back in his chair and motioning to the bag. "That's got your cut in there too. You can count it if you want."
"I'll take your word for it." Will replied.

He closed the bag and laid it down by the side of his chair. His amazement at the rate of which Pure was selling quickly subsided though, and the real reason he wanted to meet in person bubbled to the surface. He sighed heavily and put his elbows up on the table, so he could hold his forehead in his hands.

"I've had two unwanted visitors to my home in the last week. A detective came by my house because the second kid that got killed was at one of my parties. I haven't heard anything since then, so I'm pretty sure he doesn't suspect anything."

"What's the name?" Narciso asked while getting up.

"Ridley?" Will wondered out loud before shaking his head. "No, Rutledge."

Narciso opened a miniature refrigerator and pulled out a pair of beers. He offered one to Will, who accepted with a nod, strictly so he didn't seem an ungrateful guest.

"Don't know him, can't help you there." Narciso remarked while popping the tab on the can and taking a sip.

"Would you be able to help if you did?" Will inquired, repeating Narciso's actions.

"Maybe," Narciso said with a light shrug, "I've come across some of them. Even have a pair on the take. Filthy pigs are the best ones, right?"

Narciso winked at Will, who was taken aback by this revelation. It got him thinking that his partnership was extremely beneficial and at least he made one good choice in a distributor. But if Narciso had a couple of cops in his back pocket, what else was he capable of? And what were his long-term plans?

"How come I was never informed of this?" Will asked as he leaned back in his seat.

"The way I figure it, the less you know about certain things the better," Narciso started before taking another sip of his beer, "there's nothing that links you to either of them. If shit goes down, your hands stay clean, boss."

There was a certain emphasis on the word 'boss' that Will didn't particularly love, but Narciso had a point. There were enough people who knew about his involvement. From what his distributor was telling him, nobody in the police department knew. That provided some comfort.

"Who else came?"

"What?"

"You said you had two unwanted visitors," Narciso held up two fingers as he said the word, "who else came by?"

"Oh yeah." Will nodded and took another sip of beer. "Jeff; that fucking preppy stoner who handles most of the campus' supply. He came by the house when I wasn't there. Of course, he was strung out when he did, so now my roommates have questions."

"Questions aren't good. You know where he lives?" Narciso asked casually. "I could pay him a visit."

"Pretty sure it's somewhere on the north side of campus, but that's probably not the best idea. If something happened to him, he seems the type that would leave everything out on his living room table for the cops to find."

"Shit, I didn't say I was going to kill him. Maybe just put the fear of God into him."

They both finished their beers and Will got up from his seat. He began to consolidate all the money and empty canisters into one bag, handing the other back across the table. The window behind Narciso caught Will's eye momentarily. He wasn't sure what should have been there, but all he could see was a wall of gray. Everything that was happening around the town, combined with his dreams he was having, started to unnerve him.

"Anything ever happen around Willamette like this?" Will asked, staring out the window. "Two people dying in that close together? Both violent deaths, Pure selling out so fast. I think we stop for a little while. See what happens over the next few weeks."

Narciso got up and looked out the window with Will, taking his beer with him. He took another sip and nodded slowly.

"Yeah. Probably a good idea. Also, there were three deaths."

"What?" Will inquired while turning to look at Narciso. "Three? Was someone else killed today?"

"Saturday night. When you had that party. Guy just walked out in front of a bus, two blocks away. I was chillin' here and heard everything. Went outside to see what happened, and the guy was everywhere, all over the road. Driver was all messed up. She said for a split second she saw the guy stepping out on the road, and he was smiling. She didn't have a chance to hit the brakes."

Will frowned while listening to the story. A guy smiling while committing suicide by bus was creepy, but that didn't seem to fall in line with the other two deaths.

"He was one of your best customers, too." Narciso mentioned while walking back to the table. He grabbed the full bag and lightly smacked it against Will's chest, who instinctively grabbed it.

Will didn't take his eyes from the window, however. He was processing the last words from Narciso, and the sinking feeling in his gut that Pure was related to everything that was going on. Perhaps there was a lot that he had been left in the dark about. But that wasn't the reason he stared out the window. Through the smoke screen of gray, he thought he caught a glimpse of something cutting the air. It cast a momentary shadow that darkened the sky, and he would have missed it had he not been looking. Ultimately, Will decided that his mind was playing a trick on him. No bird is that big.