"Ding-ling-ling," Jimmy was napping on the couch when his phone rang, and he picked it up: "This is Jimmy, who's this?"

"Jimmy, it's Woody, Woody from the bar. Are you home? Can you come over?"

Jimmy was surprised. He had indeed given Woody his phone number, but that was just for arranging seats. "Woody, what's up? I'm at work."

Woody: "I remember you said you're a cop, right? I think I need your help at the bar."

Jimmy: "Woody, my friend, what exactly is going on? I need to know what it is before I decide when to come to see you. I'm not at home right now."

Woody paused for a moment before stammering out: "My friend is here with me, but he got too excited. I've never dealt with this kind of thing before, and I remember you're a cop, you should be able to get that, what's it called, let me see the name, oh, Naltrexone, yes, that's the name."

This time it was Jimmy's turn to be silent: "Woody, you didn't get mixed up in that stuff too, did you?"

Woody immediately said: "I didn't, it's just that he went to the restroom once, and when he came out, something happened."

Jimmy: "Let's talk when I get there."

Jimmy hung up the phone and left the office directly. There were two doses of Naltrexone in the emergency kit in the trunk of his squad car, for use in emergencies. Although it was not good to use it directly without permission, applying for it would also be troublesome.

Driving quickly, yet cautiously, Jimmy still made it. Woody was waiting at the door, and he was surprised to see Jimmy get out of the black sedan. He knew Jimmy cherished his car, but that very precious first car Jimmy often talked about was a blue Mercury, not a police car. This black one didn't quite fit the image of a cop that Woody had in mind.

Jimmy: "Woody, how is it going?"

Woody: "Thank God, you finally made it. He was starting to talk nonsense just now. He's lying down in the back."

As he spoke, Woody led Jimmy through to the staff break area in the back, where a man looking pretty bad was lying on a cot, twitching.

Woody: "That's him." Jimmy didn't wait for Woody to continue; he directly took out a syringe of Naltrexone and injected it into the man on the bed. Naltrexone worked remarkably well, but the guy was still in a bad way.

Jimmy: "Woody, you have to take him to the hospital. Just one syringe of Naltrexone won't cut it. If this continues, his brain will be damaged."

Woody: "I can't, Teddy has no ID, and once he's in the hospital, he'll get deported."

Jimmy: "Tell me, what exactly is your relationship with him? What's really going on here?"

Woody: "Two years ago, I was mugged on the street. They stabbed me twice and took everything. Luckily, he was passing by; he saved me. He carried me to an animal clinic, and I barely survived." He opened his shirt, revealing a scar on his abdomen and one on his right chest. After showing Jimmy, Woody buttoned up his shirt again.

Woody: "Teddy isn't a junkie; he's always been drifting around. I sometimes help him out. There's no way he could afford the drugs. I really don't know how he got a hold of them. I had lunch with him at noon today, and then he went to the restroom. When he came out, he was like this."

Looking at the man who was now quieting down on the bed, Jimmy shook his head. This guy didn't look like the homeless junkies he had seen before; he was thin, but his face wasn't the ghastly pale of a frequent drug user. He seemed more like he was just malnourished.

Jimmy: "How does he usually live?"

Woody: "Church, shelters, roadside tents, all of that. I once tried to get him to do some off-the-books jobs, but he couldn't stick to anything. I have no idea what his future will be like."

Jimmy: "Did he say where he got it from?"

Woody: "I don't know, but there's a little bit left on the restroom counter. I didn't touch it."

Jimmy: "I will take a look. Keep an eye on him and don't let him move around."

Jimmy knew the layout of the bar well, and he went straight to the restroom. On the countertop, there was a transparent bag with a white crystalline flake inside and some powder that had spilled out, very little, but certainly enough to send a person straight to Hell.

Putting on gloves, Jimmy picked up the corner of the baggie and left the restroom, "Woody, is there only this stuff? Did he bring anything else with him?"

Woody pointed to a small, tattered shoulder bag on the floor beside the bed: "Just that."

Jimmy looked into the bag and saw three more similar packets; judging by the size of the packets in the bag, the one he had was only half a packet. No question about it, it was an overdose. Something seemed off. This Teddy obviously had no experience; how could he use such a large amount? Moreover, the drugs in his bag weren't cheap; anything crystallized meant a high purity level. This kind of stuff looked wrong and shouldn't have been here, which meant Teddy probably got it from someone, or there was a slip-up somewhere that let him find it.

Jimmy placed the items on a nearby countertop and turned to Woody, "Woody, these aren't things he should've been able to get his hands on. Are you sure he wasn't involved in any particular activities?"

Woody shook his head, "I'm just very grateful to him, but I'm not supporting him. I don't know about his whereabouts."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.