CHAPTER TWENTY TWO: Falling Down
Carter entered Wilson’s office, which was at the south-west corner of the floor and had a pretty nice view of the city outside. Wilson had sent him an email through the company network asking to see him as soon as possible. Carter wondered what the man could want; he doubted it was to chew him out since he wasn’t late on any of his deadlines.
“You wanted to see me, Jack?” Carter made sure to remember not to call him “sir” or “Mr. Wilson.” The man had insisted that everyone call him by his first name, and Carter tried to do so with some difficulty. He was successful most of the time, though on rare occasions his old military instincts would kick in, and he would end up addressing him as “sir.”
Wilson looked up from his monitor and gave him a bright smile, his perfectly straight, picket fence white teeth were almost shining from the fluorescent lights illuminating his office. “Ah, Carter! Good, I wanted to see you. Come in and have a seat.”
Despite being almost twenty years younger than him, Wilson was Carter’s supervisor. In fact, he was the head of his whole department. It was a job that Carter was well qualified to hold, and for a time he looked certain to get the job when his old supervisor retired five years ago. Yet, like most corporate entities nowadays, the management heads decided to hire outside the company to fill the position instead of promoting one of their own into the role. And so the young, fresh Ivy League graduate Jack Wilson had gotten the job instead.
The Accounting VP even had the gall to tell Carter to show his new boss “the ropes,” knowing full well how qualified Carter had been to fill the position. It took every grain of self control Carter had not to curse him out.
Carter took a seat in front of Wilson’s desk. He waited patiently as the man continued to type on his keyboard for a full two minutes before eventually turning his attention back to him. Wilson smiled, flashing his picket fence teeth again, his bright blue eyes focusing onto Carter’s own.
“So, Carter. How’ve you been?” Wilson asked, his vapid smile unwavering. “It’s been so long since we got to talk, you and me. Is everything okay with you?”
Carter nodded. “Yes. I’m fine. Right as rain.”
“Good! That’s great to hear.” Wilson nodded. He continued to nod for another few seconds, and his smile finally began to waver. Carter noticed him wringing his hands on the table in front of him and after a few seconds he wished the idiot would just hurry up and spit out whatever it was he was trying to say. Finally, after a few more seconds of nodding, Wilson seemed to have gathered his nerves enough to speak.
“Listen, Carter. I just got some bad news.” Wilson sighed, his smile vanishing finally. “This came straight from the top. I really hate having to do this. There’s really no good way of doing it, so I’ll just come out and say it.” The man sighed again. “Carter… I’m afraid we’re gonna have to let you go.”
Carter stayed silent for a moment, not believing what he was hearing. He waited for Wilson to say something, anything more, but the moron stayed quiet, obviously waiting for Carter himself to say something. “Excuse me?”
“We’re gonna have to let you go,” Wilson repeated. “The boys upstairs decided to cut back on expenses. Those expenses include underperforming employees.”
Carter could not believe his ears. Underperforming? Sure, his work lately hadn’t been his best, but he was still performing way above average! “Are you serious?”
“Afraid so,” Wilson said. “Look, I know this is a hard pill to swallow. You’ve been at this company for a long time.”
“Fifteen years,” Carter growled.
“Fifteen years,” Wilson nodded, agreeing. “But your work has steadily been getting worse lately. I know you’re just going through a tough spot right now, and usually I would look past it because of that. But, like I said, this mandate comes straight from the top. I have no choice.”
“Bullshit!” Carter snarled. “What about Shane? Alvarez? I know for a fact that their numbers are worse than mine!”
“Carter, please.” Wilson shook his head, looking exasperated. “Shane has three kids. Alvarez is pregnant with her fourth. Are you really asking me to get rid of them and keep you? How many children do you have?”
He grit his teeth. “None.”
“See? It wouldn’t be right to put their families through such hardship.” Wilson shrugged. “I’m sorry, Carter. This was a difficult decision, but in the end, the choice was quite clear. Shane, Alvarez, Zeveda… they all have families. Wives and kids who’ll suffer if they lose their job. You live alone.”
“I have a wife,” Carter muttered.
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“Carter, she died two years ago,” Wilson said, obviously hearing his words. “Is this why your work’s been suffering? Carter, I’m really sorry about Anna, but she’s gone. It’s been two years, you need to let go. It’s not healthy to keep grieving like this for so long.”
Carter sat silently, his fury building. He gritted his teeth hard, feeling them crack in his jaw.
Wilson gave him a sad smile. “Look, who knows? Maybe this is actually a good opportunity for you, Carter. You know, you can start fresh. With your experience and military background, you can get a job pretty much anywhere. And maybe you can take some time to reflect on yourself and get better. Hell, maybe you’ll even manage to meet a girl who can help you get over Anna’s-”
Carter roared as he leaped out of the chair and clambered across Wilson’s desk. He grabbed the man by the hair and slammed his face onto his keyboard. Wilson screamed in pain and surprise while Carter gripped his hair tighter and repeated his actions over and over again. Wilson’s nose broke and blood splattered across his monitor’s screen painting the spreadsheets and emails in red.
Carter heard a woman’s scream. It was Janet, Wilson’s secretary. She stood by the open door, staring aghast at him repeatedly slamming her boss’s face into his desk. He ignored her. He tossed Wilson’s limp form onto the floor and got off the desk. He grabbed the monitor in his hands, ripping the cords off the back. He stood over Wilson’s prone form, while the man looked up at him, horror in his wide, blue eyes.
“Carter?”
Carter lifted the flatscreen over his head. It was times like these that he wished his company still used the heavier, bulkier CRT monitors. Wilson screamed as he slammed the flatscreen down into his already damaged face. Carter snarled as he repeated the action over and over again.
“Carter?”
Carter blinked, and he was back in the chair, his hands tightly gripping its armrests. He looked up and Wilson was still seated behind his desk, face unmangled with no blood to be seen.
“Carter? Are you listening?” Wilson asked.
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“Anyway, like I said, this was an extremely hard decision. But you know how it is, tough decisions have to be made. I had HR prepare a separation package for you, it has pamphlets on how to cope with losing your job, and advice on how to get a new one. I’m sure you’ll land on your feet in no time. We’ll…”
Carter tuned the rest of his spiel out. His eyes dropped to the floor and he stared at the carpet for the next several minutes. He noticed the thick fibers and the pale blue color. There was not a speck of dirt on it. The cleaning service the company hired did a very good job. He wondered how hard those cleaners would have to work if the carpet became stained thick with blood.
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An inrush of air flowing deep into his lungs brought Carter back to consciousness. He gasped and coughed, scrambling to his feet as he quickly looked around. He was in a forest clearing. All around him were the corpses of men, their dead flesh marred by bullet wounds. Memories of the last few minutes came to him, of being ambushed by these thugs and him being forced to kill them before finally succumbing to his wounds.
Carter’s hands traced across his body, checking it for damage. There was none. His vest and shirt had been torn open, but after pulling apart the fabric he saw the flesh underneath unmarred. He remembered being sliced open, his innards slipping out of the wound. Now all signs of the damage were gone. His hand went up to his neck where the arrow had pierced him. Nothing but smooth, unblemished skin met his fingertips.
Magic may be bullshit, but it came in handy. Carter sighed in relief. He thought he was going to die. He should have died. Yet here he was, without a scratch. He suffered so much damage to his body, and yet he survived. He idly wondered what it would take to kill him. Could he even die?
Carter looked down and saw the black shape of the Witch Arm near his feet. Dorothea the Ebon. The gun had saved his life, there was no doubt about that. Those pigs would have kept cutting him up, torturing the hell out of him if it hadn’t come to his rescue.
Carter remembered reaching his hand out in desperate need, and the gun just flying into it. He bit his lip, then reached his right hand down towards the Witch Arm. He recalled the emotion he had felt earlier, the fear and the pain, and his desperate need to feel the weapon in his grip. Just like before, the gun launched itself from the ground and flew up into his hand. Carter gripped the gun tightly and lifted it up in front of his face.
“What the hell are you?” He asked it.
In the back of his mind, he heard a woman’s soft laugh.