Overnight Sensation

Joe returned home one day with a massive haul of drugs to test and review for his website that had over a quarter of a million subscribers. His YouTube channel streamed at a time when all narcotics had been legalised. The nineteen-year-old was in the process of working his way through every drug listed on the vast menu of the local coffee shop and he could regularly be seen lugging a rucksack home, brimming full of goodies for him to smoke, snort or inject.

Entering his flat, he saw along the hall that his bedroom door had been jimmied open. Inside, the first thing he noticed was that his laptop was open and laying across it was a small heap of a drug known as Krash – a fine brown powder made to go up the nose. He had yet to give this drug a test drive but he had heard it was mind blowing and was gaining some popularity among his peers. Joe felt a cold breeze ripple across his skin and then he noticed the curtains were billowing in the wind. Joe approached the window, experiencing a profound sense of dread sweep through his body. He heard a cry from below and he arched his head outside and looked down. A small cluster of people were milling about, clearly agitated and Joe finally realised they were surrounding a body laid flat on the concrete. Someone called out, “Get an ambulance!” 

It was then Joe became aware of the shoes the prostrate body was wearing: neon blue Air Jordan’s. They were one of a kind, very expensive and just weeks ago Joe had bought a pair for his little brother. 

“Danny,” said Joe to himself and raced out of the flat, ran down flight after flight of stairs until he reached the ground floor. He pushed the giant glass entrance door and after a couple of shoves it swung wide open. Joining the crowd outside, that had built up to a sizable mass, all getting a good eyeful, Joe barged his way to reach Danny’s side. His brother’s head had split open as if a machete had chopped through a coconut. Blood was spewing out of the boy’s nose and Joe watched as the life drained from his brother’s face. 

The sirens of an ambulance rang out, blaring louder and louder as it came into range. Joe collapsed to his knees and pressed his hands against Danny’s chest. He didn’t cry but instead shook his head repeatedly, unable to come to terms with the situation. Finally, he dialled his parents – blood smearing his phone – and they all met at the hospital. 

Joe’s parents were older than most of his friends’ folks and no one could imagine the youngest of their family would pass first. Joe’s mother was wearing an ankle length skirt, a cardigan drawn across her shoulders and her face looked drained. She started the inquisition of the nurse who had confirmed the news of Danny’s death. 

“Where are the police?” she said. 

“The police won’t be needed,” said the nurse, “I am here to help you.” 

“But you’re just a nurse,” said Joe’s mother, limply as if resigned to the situation. “I don’t understand, I don’t understand.”

Joe’s dad drew his wife back down into her seat and coughed his violent smoker’s cough then, having cleared his throat, he said, “Our boy was happy, he would never just kill himself. He was only thirteen. We just want someone to tell us what happened, can’t you see that?” 

“We believe he might have ingested a recreational drug before he died,” the nurse said. “That’s all I know. It’ll take some time to diagnose which drug he took. I’m sorry for your loss and I’m sorry I can’t shed any more light on your son’s situation.” 

Once the nurse had left, Joe’s mum broke down into tears, saying, “Why won’t they help us, they don’t want to help us. Joe do you know anything? Was he in a bad mood last time you saw him?” 

“No mum, he was his normal self. I don’t get it either.” 

“Well what about this drug?”

“I don’t know anything about it,” said Joe, unable to meet his mother’s gaze. 

“Well he jumped out of your window,” said Joe’s dad, “so when we get back, we’re going to give your room a thorough going over.” 

“There’s nothing in my room, you can trust me.”

“We do trust you,” said Joe’s dad, “but we have to check everything, just in case, you understand?” 

When they got home, Joe was desperately worried, knowing what his parents would find tucked away in his dresser and with no alibi and no convincing lie to extricate himself from the situation. As soon as his parents arrived home, they made a beeline for Joe’s room.

Inside, the window was still open and the smell of car fumes from the traffic jam on the main road below infected the room. The Krash that Joe saw earlier on the laptop had blown away, only a few particles of the drug scattered in between the keys of the keyboard. 

Then Joe’s dad searched under the bed, beneath the duvet until finally he opened the chest of drawers and what Joe’s parents saw caused them to gasp. Joe’s mum fell back onto the bed taking shallow breaths as Joe’s dad pulled out bag after bag of drugs, each one with a striking logo emblazoned on the front – such as a yellow smiley face or a tornado. The bag with a roaring blue dragon on it was Krash. The bag had been prised open but Joe hadn’t tested it yet so the only conclusion was that his brother had tried the drug, perhaps to devastating effect. However, Joe thought it was strange he hadn’t heard anything amongst the YouTube community that indicated Krash could be so destructive. 

Joe’s mum was weeping and tugging on her hair violently. Joe’s dad led Joe out of the room and in the dim light of the corridor his dad’s eyes shone red. 

He said, “You lied. How could you? We trusted you Joe. Listen, maybe Danny took some of your drugs – that’s what I suspect anyway. But what I am sure of is your mum can’t lose both her sons today so I won’t point any fingers.  Drugs are legal, and I have to accept you can get them everywhere – meaning if you really want to use them, you can. But not in this house. Never again. Understand? Otherwise you’re out. I suggest you focus on grieving for your little brother from now on. I’m going out front to burn these bags to hell.”

“No, wait,” said Joe with urgency, “the thing is those are worth a lot of money, couldn’t you just…” 

“No,” Joe’s dad snapped. “Just count yourself lucky you’re not out on the streets right now.”

But that’s exactly where Joe went – to the city streets. He wanted to test drive Krash. He needed to know what his brother went through and to potentially stop others from suffering the same fate. He couldn’t do it at home so he decided to pay his local coffee shop a visit, bought an ounce of Krash and rode a bus around town to keep warm – filming himself on his phone as he got high. He snorted a few lines and waited for the effects to kick in and as jolts of energy spread through his mind he documented his feelings, streaming live under the username Taster1010. 

“I have to admit,” he said, as his body rocked to and fro while the bus coasted over speed bumps, “I have my concerns about this drug before even trying it. I suspect my brother used it and then killed himself. I can’t be sure, but I’ve got to know. I feel responsible to you, my followers, and my brother’s memory, to find out all I can.” 

“Sorry to hear about your brother,” typed Mog79 filling the box at the bottom of Joe’s screen, “what are you feeling now?” 

“Thanks, Mog79. Early days yet, but I’m noticing a fizzy feeling at the base of my spine. Let’s see how it goes.” 

After that, many users shared their condolences, some saying, “We’re with you Joe,” and others, “You’re doing a great job man, keep on keeping on.” 

“Starting to feel good now guys,” typed Joe, “Similar to coke so far. No psychedelic effects yet. Clean sensation, unlike speed.” 

Then a message from Layla_be popped onto Joe’s screen, and what it said jarred him from his reverie. “Krash is fine,” the message went, “maybe the problem was with your brother.” 

Joe tried to let the comment slide over him as a burst of rectangular sunlight fell across his face from his vantage point on the first floor of the bus. 

Then three girls seated at the other end of the bus turned their attention to Joe, pointing and giggling. Finally, a beefy girl with pink pigtails, ripped fishnet stockings and big black boots hauled herself up the corridor and stood over Joe while hanging onto the overhead handrail. 

“It is you,” she smiled, “I knew it. We’ve just been watching you live as we speak. What a coincidence. Guys, come on!”

As the other girls made their way over, another message from Layla_be pinged and it read, “Don’t mess this up for everyone just because one kid died.”

Despite Joe’s light-headed state he felt compelled to respond to the troll. “That kid was my brother and if there is something wrong with this drug, I will shut it down,” he typed. 

The girls had surrounded Joe, all flustered and hyperactive, bombarding him with questions. They tried to get in his film and experience their fifteen minutes but before they could get into shot Joe had slipped his phone into his pocket. 

“Joe,” said the beefy girl, “we’re going to a house party, it would be so, so awesome if you came, I mean everyone would know you, how cool would that be?” 

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m in the mood to party.” 

“Trust me you will. Krash will take you on a wild ride. Being with lots of people is exactly what you need, because the drug makes you feed off other people’s energy. It will take your mind off your brother.” 

“Well, I guess I am getting sick of this bus, but promise me, you won’t draw any unnecessary attention to me. If people recognise me that’s fine but if they don’t let’s just leave it that way.” 

“Sure, sure, we’ll treat it like a secret mission – James Bond, Jack Reacher.” 

Joe and the three girls arrived at the party – a white wash Georgian building filled with youths of around sixteen sharing around coke and weed, heroin and ecstasy and every other drug one could imagine. Obviously, the majority of party goers were underage but in these days of such relaxed laws the police couldn’t care less. 

Joe entered the house – head dipped low, hands sunk deep into his pockets trying to remain incognito. But before he could even take a seat in the corner of the crowded living room, roll a cigarette and maybe update his vlog, as he was beginning to feel some paranoia flourish, the pink pigtail girl shouted, “Hey, hey hey! Look who we have in the room. It’s Joe!”

Everyone turned to him, confused as to who he was until one guy pointed at him, and said, “Yeah, it’s the king of drug bloggers. How are you doing you sonofabitch?” Then everyone else cottoned on and Joe felt the eager crowd converge. 

He was offered dozens of spliffs and tins of beer and then a stunning girl with almond eyes, pouty lips and a figure-hugging blue dress, revealing her shapely legs, threaded her way through the crowd and sat by Joe’s side. 

“I’m Melanie, hi. What you on tonight?” 

Joe struggled not to stare, so mesmerised was he by her beauty,

“Um, actually I’m trying out a new one, for me anyway, called Krash.” 

“Oh, that’s one of my favourites. Not that popular yet, but it will be trust me.”

“Oh, really, why’s that?” 

“Because,” she said, leaning in conspiratorially, “it’s dirt cheap and the high goes on and on. It’s almost the perfect drug.”

“Then what’s the catch?” 

“I guess it can all get a little too real for some people, but it’s rare. Of course, if someone like you, with your clout, came along and shat on it, they might take it off the market and a lot of kids would be pissed.” 

“I doubt the authorities would listen to me.” 

“Maybe not, maybe not, but you never know.” 

At that moment Joe felt a surge of powerful energy move into his brain as a sickly chemical taste dripped down his throat. He wanted to escape the crowd and find a quiet spot to document his feelings but Melanie had placed her hand on his thigh and that sent his mind swimming. 

Finally, Joe turned to her and dared to look straight into her eyes. She had dilated pupils and a thousand-yard stare. Her head had lolled slightly to one side and she was breathing unevenly. An image of her as a zombie flickered in his mind’s eye and he panicked. She was blasted on heroin; Joe could easily tell. He removed her hand and it fell to her side. He apologised and went to look for an empty room upstairs. Squeezing past the kids on the stairs he searched the numerous bedrooms on the first floor until he found a room at the end of the hall that was strangely vacant. But Joe didn’t dwell on this fact, he just took a seat on the king-size bed and pulled out his phone to report his state of mind. But once he accessed his channel, he realised the message board had gone wild with comments ranging from those who sided with Joe and his concerns about Krash and those who spewed vitriol at him for even daring to question the drug. Before he could say his piece, he heard a toilet flush in the en-suite bathroom and then a tap flowed. Joe waited for the person inside the loo with anticipation as if there was a great revelation approaching. The toilet door opened and out walked a chunky boy, roughly fourteen years of age, wearing a batman t-shirt with an unlit joint dangling from his lips. From Joe’s angle the boy was cast in a blue neon hue, his eyes like fire and looking uncannily like his brother Danny. 

“Danny?” Joe said. 

“I heard you were in the building,” said the boy, “I was going to come and find you. But you found me instead. I’m not your brother, I’m Elliott. This is my parents’ house. I’ve got a lot I want to say to you.” 

Elliott glided over to the bed and lay down, resting his head on two plump pillows, stretching his legs out, still wearing his trainers. He interlocked his fingers and placed them behind his head – a picture of relaxation. 

“I’ve been following your channel for a while now and I think it’s fate that drew us together,” Elliott said, yet Joe couldn’t see his mouth move. “What you fail to realise about drugs and about these times is that there are very dark forces behind everything. Krash is just one cog in the wheel of the conspiracy.” 

“I don’t understand,” said Joe, “what conspiracy? Some drugs might be dangerous but that doesn’t mean there’s anything suspicious going on.” 

Elliott leant forward, his face swallowed up by shadow, and said, “The powers that be want to pacify the nation and legalising drugs is their chosen method. Joe do you really think your brother died for no reason? No, it was part of the plan. Now, there is a movement beginning, started by you and your followers, a movement that stands a good chance of success and when you leave this room you will see what you have created. Now go.”

“Ok,” said Joe feeling energy move through his whole body with the force of a waterfall. He stood and said, “Thank you Danny,” and then he stepped out of the master bedroom into the main body of the house, prepared to meet his destiny. 

Immediately he was faced with chaos. A group of teens were gathered on the staircase from top to bottom, swinging fists at each other, drawing blood. As Joe walked along the landing a girl’s voice called out, saying, “There he is, get him!” 

Looking down the stairwell he realised the voice was Melanie’s. Everyone turned their attention to Joe. The girl with the pink pigtails rushed Melanie and tackled her to the ground, then shouted, “Get Joe safe. Shield him and move him out of the house.” 

A boy with flashy sports shoes, a nose stud and a tattoo of a lizard stretched around his neck, wrestled himself free from the mob on the stairs and said, “Come with me, I’ll protect you, but you must stay close.” 

The melee on the stairs moved back and forth like a wave and despite the boy with flashy shoe’s claims, he was useless to repel the enemy. In fact, Joe was overwhelmed with kicks and punches and he was afraid his head was going to be caved in by someone’s foot. 

Everything was brought to a sudden halt though, as riot police burst through the front door swinging their batons at whoever was near – seeing the kids as one hostile mass to be crushed. Then Elliott walked out of the bedroom and arched his head over the balcony, looking at the armed police who forced their way along the hall, spread out into the living room, and finally stormed the stairs. 

“Let us not fight against ourselves,” demanded Elliott, “you can see the true enemy who wants to divide us. Turn your rage against the police.” 

The kids were receptive to Elliot’s request and every one of them switched their attention to fighting the cops. 

Then cutting through the anarchy there was a searing blast bringing everyone to a standstill. Joe turned and saw Elliott lying on his back clutching his chest, blood gurgling out of his body, blinking furiously. He’d been shot. 

Joe rushed to his side and held Elliott’s head up. He mumbled to the injured boy, “No, no.” Then he began to feel droplets of water on his head and shoulders. He looked up and saw a cluster of bruised clouds concentrated along the ceiling. Rain began to pour, drenching Joe’s clothes as he gave up on Elliott who was clearly dead. 

“Goodbye Danny,” Joe said, closing the dead boy’s eyelids as the rain ceased, leaving the atmosphere charged.

The clouds dissolved from the ceiling and peace spread through the house. The police were gone and there were only a few stragglers left – hanging out at the base of the stairs, some curled up on the sofas in the living room, others resting on pillows on the floor, all coming down from their highs. 

Dawn was breaking and Joe decided to walk home, even though he knew it would take him hours. He felt as though he should check-in on his site, but he still couldn’t process what had happened overnight, so he left his phone in his pocket. 

A blue tinted skyline seeped out of the morning mist as Joe entered his block of flats and took the elevator up to his apartment. He opened the front door and could see all the way into the kitchen, where his mum was slumped by the table stirring spoonful after spoonful of sugar into her coffee, as if in a trance. She didn’t even look up as Joe took a seat opposite her. 

“Where’s dad?” Joe said. 

“He’s doing what he always does when he can’t cope with a situation, he’s pretending to sleep. Where have you been?” 

“I had to clear my head, so I went round a friend’s.”

“Well you look terrible. Joe, I have something to say, a confession that I can’t keep secret any longer.”

“Me too mum, but I don’t know if I have the words.” 

“Just wait and listen to what I have to say. Hours before Danny died, I had a massive row with him and I think that’s what did it, I really do. I don’t know how I can live with myself.”

“I’m sure it was nothing. What was the fight about?” 

“That’s just it, it’s shameful. I said things a mother should never say to her baby boy. I said he should be more like you – more confident, stronger. I called him a wimp and a weakling, not ready for this world. Because it’s true, he’s such a timid child but that’s no excuse for humiliating him. I tore him apart. I know he took your drugs – because he wanted to self-destruct – I know that, but I can’t deceive myself by blaming you when I know the real story.” 

“Mum, you can’t blame yourself, I could have done more too. Me and Danny were never really close, you know? Anyway, it was the police who did it, you couldn’t stop them from shooting him. Danny was a visionary and a leader, but it was his time to go. He died fighting for what he believed in, and that’s how he would have wanted it, I truly believe that, I have to.”

“What are you talking about Joe?” his mum said with a look of disgust on her face. “Whatever drug you’re on has warped your mind. Listen to me, this is your last chance – no more drugs under this roof or you’re no longer part of this family. OK?” 

Joe was stunned. He didn’t know where the truth began and the lies ended, but suddenly he doubted everything that happened in the last twenty-four hours. He left his mother with her thoughts and went to his room. Could it all be a hallucination? If his night was an illusion, maybe he could find out what really happened by searching his blog. Flicking through his videos, he could only find information from when he was travelling around on the bus – nothing indicating he was at a party and no battle of minds about Krash.

Just then a new message popped up on his screen, saying, “Did you know about this?”. There was a link to another page underneath. It was a YouTube site made by Danny. Joe clicked on an entry made just hours before his brother died. Danny’s face appeared on the screen, looking just like Joe but with blotchy spots on his cheeks and without the carefully manicured facial hair. 

Danny said, “So despite there being no one out there watching, I want to continue with this site as a diary in the hope there will be a time when this channel really takes off. Wishful thinking, I know. I’m not going to lie it’s not much fun getting only eleven views on my site per week, because clearly nobody cares. But that doesn’t mean things can’t change, I guess. I just need a hook, something that sets me apart from the rest, like my brother. Because if you are watching this you might know him. He’s big, real big and one day I’m going to be just like him, the don of the Internet bloggers. Anyway, I’ve got to go, mum’s calling. See ya, peeps”. 

Then the grief hit Joe, in a way he hadn’t felt before. His little brother was gone and there was nothing he could do about it. For the first time in a quite a while he experienced a dreadful clarity of mind. No more drugs, no more drugs. 

Joe retweeted the link to his brother’s website, saying “This is Danny, my brother, please have a look and tell your friends,” and then he watched as the hits climbed from hundreds, into thousands in a matter of minutes. It was Danny’s turn. Joe couldn’t think of a more fitting tribute. 

.