Immolation Ex: The Knower (COMPLETED)

Chapter XXVII

Carter flashed into an alley, sending newspaper and other debris sailing throughout the filthy brick and mortar gap formed between two red brick buildings. He stumbled forward, grabbing the edge of a thankfully convenient, but rank, blue dumpster. He leaned over and inhaled, filling his nostrils and lungs with the garbage-scented air. "Damn that shit stinks!"

"You're tellin' me, buddy..." slurred an unseen voice. "Old Chinese food can get funky, quick..."

"Who said that?" Carter asked, darting his eyes around the alleyway looking for the source of the words.

"Over here, behind the dumpster," said a man revealing himself from beneath an old army blanket.

Carter closed his eyes briefly as the reek of alcohol and urine hit him square in the face.

"Hey you gotta dollar, space man?"

"Space man?"

"I seen you beam in like Cap'n Kirk...don't go and play me," the bum spat.

Carter backed a couple of steps away from the pungent combination of the strange man lying next to the dumpster.

"Anything will do," the bum said and leaned forward from where he was resting with his back against the building's brick wall. He jutted an open palm out at the sniper. Carter patted the pockets of his black, rip stop fatigue pants eventually locating a five-dollar bill. "Here you go fella. I know I am wasting my breath here looking at those empty bottles lying all around you, but why don't you go get something to eat this time? You look like you need it."

The other weathered hand joined the first as the old man accepted the paper bill from Carter, clutching the Original Soul's hand in between his two. "Son, I thank you so very much for your kindness...bless you! Bless you!"

Carter lightly retrieved his fingers from the grasp of the aging vagrant, smiled, then turned to leave. He stopped as a thought hit him. He had no idea where he was. "Hey, fella?"

"Yeah?" the old man sputtered.

"Where am I?"

"Fort Smith, Arkansas. You must really be from Mars not to know where you are," the bum said with a laugh, several teeth missing from his mouth. "Hell, I've drank so much my liver's beggin' for mercy, but I still know where I am an' all..."

Carter raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Thanks!"

The elderly man threw the sharpshooter a thumb up and lay back once more, disappearing behind the garbage dumpster and his blanket.

Carter emerged from the alley, stepping onto the early evening sidewalk of downtown Fort Smith, the streetlights lining Garrison Avenue flickered to life. "Why in the hell would you be here, Carter?" he thought to himself. "I have never even thought about going to Arkansas." He glanced up and down the street at the occasional cars passing by. "Maybe Azazel is here and he teleported me..."

The sharpshooter looked to the left and then the right, contemplating which direction he should go. He hoped that the angry Watcher's voice would just suddenly pop into his head, guiding him to his friends; however, there was no reply. Carter shrugged his shoulders, crossed the avenue, and walked to a nearby street corner. There he stood for an hour or two leaned up against the wall of the furniture store watching people walk by, completely oblivious to either him or the entire ethereal world they had no idea existed.

"Damn, where are you guys?" he asked under his breath, cursing the silence. "Maybe I should just shoot over to Gadreel's house?" he thought, then tensed, preparing to teleport to Detroit.