Short Story

The premise behind this is that the Roman Empire never fell and is still the world power.



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Darkness enveloped the passing patrol. Herodotus had dived into the
thick shadows just in time. The Praetorian had missed him. “Fucking
Praetorian.” Spat Herodotus into the inky blackness. He crossed the
street, careful to stay out of the light of the streetlamps. His guts
hurt; hurt bad. He needed his jonze real bad.
The Empire had
legalized most drugs for a short time, and then prohibited them again.
There were hundreds of thousands of people like Herodotus in Rome
alone. They had gotten hooked on Heroin, Cocaine, Zappa or some other
drug. Zappa was Hero’s choice. A synthetic drug, it was very expensive
when it was legal, ten times more now. Very expensive and very rare.
Hero had to go across town to get it.
His insides suddenly tensed
up and he fell to the ground in pain. He pulled himself up by a smashed
parking meter. Someone had wanted the few coins it would hold. Probably
to buy drugs, Hero could relate to that. Whoever had done it made a
mess of it and missed most of the change that fell out. They must have
really needed the money, because the next dozen meters were smashed in
the same manner. Hero noted each one as he clung to them for support.

Luckily, his pains hadn’t begun until he was almost to the dealer’s
shack He stumbled his was into the alley it was always set up in. Sure
enough, at the end, illuminated by a red and blue neon sign, was an
impromptu shack. It had to be easy to put up and take down so the
police and Praetorians wouldn’t notice it when the made their rounds in
daylight. At night it didn’t matter because no cop or guard would be
willing to walk down an alley at risk of death.
Bathed in pale neon
light was the shack. Some plywood boards held up by a dumpster at the
rear and double stacked barrels at the front. It provided just enough
cover to keep Little Nero dry when it rains and not enough to comfort
anyone who may walk by. Nero was sitting on a milk crate with a
cardboard box as a table in front of him. A tweaking man was sitting,
leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the alley from Nero’s.
The man wasn’t really tweaking, he was a guard and lookout for when
Nero was doing business. His name was Francisco.
Herodotus stumbled
down the alley, using the alley wall as a crutch. Nero smiled at his
coming. “Hero, my friend. You should have come earlier. I can see that
you are in pain.”
Hero grinned, but it turned into a grimace. “You know me,” he said, “always waiting ‘til the last minute.”
“You need Zappa, yes?”
Nero nodded.
“Let me check my stock, I think I have some.” He turned on the crate
and dug in another box, behind him. As he looked, he spoke, “Zappa is
getting harder and harder to find. The Imperial bastards are finding
all the labs that make it. Yes, harder and more expensive. I really
only stock it for you, what with you being a good friend and all. Ah!
Here we are, the last of my stock. It’s not much…” Nero held out a
small baggie with a inhaler in it. “Only one. But, that should last you
until I can get some more.”
“Damn it, Nero,” Herodotus hissed,
“that will only last me until tomorrow. Wait,” Hero took the baggie and
studied the inhaler, “that’s not the right color. Look, it’s doesn’t
look right.”
“It’s the light, trust me. Would I cheat an old friend like you? Look, try it and prove it to yourself.”
Hero raised his eyebrow and opened the baggie and took out the inhaler.
He shook it and took a short puffer. Relief and calm came in a wave
through his body. He felt instantly better, happy even.
Nero grinned and nodded, “You see, it’s the right stuff.”
Hero dug into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills and handed them
to Nero. “That’s for this and what you can get me for tomorrow”
Nero nodded, “Yeah, no problem. I’ll have a half dozen by morning.”
Hero walked off.

Herodotus
woke with his alarm and cursed himself for bothering to set it. “Well,”
He thought to himself, “If I’m going to get up, I might as well go to
work.” He shat, showered and shaved and got dressed for work.
Grateful
he noted the locations of the broken meters, he clocked in and went
right to them. Replacing them required very little work. He unscrewed
the old ones, removed them from the posts, deactivated their locators,
took a new one, activated it’s locator, mounted it and programmed it
into the system. The broken meters, 16 of them in all, took only an
hour or so to replace.
During his work, he passed the alley where
Nero was set up…and the shack was still up. Confused, Herodotus made
his way down the alley. Francisco was still slumbering against the
wall. And Nero was still sitting on his crate. His head rose as Hero
approached. His eyes registered alarm at the uniform walking toward him
and he shouted to Francisco who leapt up, ready to strike with a knife.
Hero
shouted, “No! It’s me!” And held out his hands as if to stop a charging
Francisco. But, it was too late and Francisco was too fast. The knife
slid into his guts smoothly. Falling backward, Hero was struck with the
idea that it didn’t hurt quite as bad as when he needed more Zappa.
Francisco kept a firm grip on the knife so it easily exited the wound
as Hero fell. He was winding up for a killing blow when Nero shouted
for him to stop. Nero stood over a bleeding Herodotus. “Holy shit,
dude. What are you doing here?”
Hero looked at him. “Well, I figured
I had nothing better to do than get fucking stabbed! What the fuck do
you think I’m here for? The Zappa you promised me!”
“Shit dude, I didn’t expect you to come while you were working. Fuck. You alright?”
“I’m fucking bleeding! How do you think I am?”
“Franny,
get a towel from my bag!” The towel was used to put pressure on the
wound. “Dude, I know a place where you can get fixed up without the
cops. Franny, grab his arms, I’ll take his legs. It isn’t far.”

Herodotus
passed out on the way. He awoke to see a beautiful woman tending to
him. “I’m dead, aren’t I?” He said. She giggled and stood away from his
bed. His eyes focused on her clothes. “You’re a nun? I thought you
folks were illegal?”

“Technically, young man,” her voice was sexy, “our order is limited in
number, by the law, but not abolished.”
Herodotus
tried to sit up but was greeted by shooting pain and black spots in his
vision. “Oh, shit. Sorry…” he blushed.
“I’ve
heard worse. You shouldn’t try to get up for at least a couple of days.
We took your drugs since you won’t need them. We have started you on
the anti-drug drug. Wait, that sounds silly, doesn’t it?”
“You took my drugs? What about…”

"The police have not been called, nor will they. You have sanctuary
here and are free to stay until you are fully healed.”
“Nero brought me here?”
“No.
Your friend took you as far as he dared. A Praetorian patrol found you.
They were taking you to a hospital when the Mother Superior here
pleaded with their commander to allow us to take you in. He agreed.”
“I don’t understand…”
“Nor will you ever, I suppose.”

Hero
was soon able to stand and walk around. Every morning, he was given a
pill- the “anti-drug drug”. Apparently, it’s the only way to stop an
addiction to Zappa. And only recently discovered at that. The nurse/nun
told him that he would need the pill every morning for an indefinite
period.
After a week, Hero left. He had been given a month’s supply
of pills and the address of where he could get more. He found that he
still had his job working for the government and that the Nuns had
fixed everything with his bosses.
The month passed quickly. Every
morning, Herodotus woke up refreshed and took a pill. He felt good all
day, something new to him. But, one morning, he awoke to find he had no
pills left. He searched for the slip that had the address on it. It was
a chemist on the other side of the city. He could go there during a
break from work.
He drove to work. He left his car and suddenly lost
all control over his body. He crashed to the ground in horrendous pain.
He had never felt such an intense pain before in his life. He writhed
in agony for several minutes before someone noticed. An ambulance was
called and Herodotus was delivered to a hospital.
“Son, you are
lucky. Most who lapse on their pills don’t make it.” Hero’s doctor
lectured him. “You must never allow yourself to run out of pills.”
Herodotus was confused. “What happened to me?”
“Your body was suffering withdrawal. You missed your dose, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, but…”
“Never miss a dose, I cannot stress that enough.”
“Yeah, but I never had anything like that happen when I was on Zappa.”
“Different drugs have different effects.”
“Yeah, but in this case, the cure is worse than the disease.”
The doctor nodded.