Rocket Science

Chapter One : The Ponderous Wanderings of a Meatball

         "Hey New York! It's 5:30 and I've got some great classical..." Snooze. Silence. Seconds later. "...York, it's 5:35 and here's the weather..." Snooze. Silence. Seconds later. "Hey New..." Off. Mankind had invented so many, many things in it's time on earth. A lot of these things have helped to make life go more smoothly. Oddly enough, no one ever bothers to stop and thank the inventors of the wonderful aides. Gregory Timmons would have to find the man that invented the ever-teasing "snooze" button. Yes, this man definitely had a baseball bat oriented "thank you" due. Greg reset the alarm and got out of bed.

         As he was getting his bearings clear, he noticed his wife was already gone. Come to think of it, had she come to bed?  Had she even come home? He wasn't the most sound of sleepers, and he was usually aware of her slipping into the bed. Oh well. She often worked almost ridiculous hours, and it was common for her to leave work in the early morning hours. Greg decided it was hardly worth worrying himself over, and, only then realizing he had already prepared his tooth brush, began his semi hygienic morning routine. He would have to leave a bit early this morning to pick up Jefferson, a project supervisor for the software developer he worked for. The boss. This meant the boys were getting up a little early as well. Just then he noticed a distantly familiar aroma...Is that pot?

         He was usually a pretty even tempered man, but as Greg was closing in on the slightly open, sliding porch door, he felt compelled to stop and bring the previously mentioned baseball bat. "Is this what I pay you forty bucks each a week for? Is it!?" So much for his blood pressure. As a teen, Greg himself smoked more than his share of the world's pot. Tori, who was seventeen, knew that. Junior, still twelve, hadn't caught on yet, but Tori was sure to let him know sooner or later. Even with that admission, Greg was not happy. "But dad...look at how early we're up!" Junior protested. "You always say we need to get to sleep earlier." Greg had a large vein down the side of his forehead that became extremely visible when he was upset. It was a sight to behold just then. "It doesn't really count if you're high when you fall asleep..." he said, a little too calmly. Junior looked like he had another burst of wit coming, but changed his mind. Greg let out a long, thoughtful sigh. "Look, Tor, the next time I find you smoking ANYTHING here, you're out. You can go where ever you want. A shelter, Gram's house, where ever. Just not here." He looked to Junior. "You're taking your brother down with you, and it's not fair." Silence. "Get to school before I kill you both."

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         The ride to Daron Jefferson's apartment was uneventful. He caught only two red lights, not bad for a twenty minute trip. Having only been hired three weeks earlier, Jefferson was new at the company Greg had been a part of for six years. Greg had been up for a promotion to project supervisor in a few weeks when, seemingly out of nowhere, a guy no one knew jumped aboard and took the job. But it wasn't as if he could have done it on purpose. No, it was an immature reason to hate someone. Even so, it felt like a damn good reason to try. But try as he might, he couldn't hate Daron Jefferson. He was too likable. So there he was, on his way to work with Jefferson riding shotgun. He was navigating his last left turn of the trip when it happened. He wasn't sure what was happening, just that it was happening faster than he could process.

         He could make out the sound of metal on metal, which tipped him off that it was a car trying to come in the passenger door. The passenger door. Fighting to get his nose past the now-deployed airbag, he turned his head to the right and immediately vommitted. His vision was blurry, true, but not so blurry that he couldn't make out Jefferson's face.The expression was fear. It didn't look like fear, it was fear...and blood...but mostly fear. The blood was coming from all over, but not from any noticeable cut or openings. It was as if his pores were bleeding. Greg cursed himself for loosing his breakfast over a scene that wasn't that grotesque, but it was just so much blood. It was something no horror flick had ever shown him. Suddenly the car stopped, slamming Greg's head into the driver side door.

Darkness.

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         "Greg..." He could feel his lips responding What?, but he could only actually hear the other's command. "Greg, wake up or go home." It was Jefferson's voice speaking to him. He opened his eyes to find himself at work, passed out n the rarely used second break room. He attempted to sit up from his slumped, and somewhat uncomfortable position at the table, finding that his fingers and maybe three toes would respond without causing any pain. That, and the quickly fading feeling that he had just been in some danger, was making him extremely curious. Jefferson pulled the chair directly across from Greg's lunch (where the hell did this horrid pasta dish come from anyway?) and sat down. "Look, Greg," he started "I truly appreciate how helpful you've been to me, but you really can't be showing up to work drunk...you're not even clocked in yet, you know." Drunk? But I quit drinking, didn't I? "Obviously, you did not." Jefferson said quickly. Then, as if realizing he had just told someone about their surprise birthday party, he blinked furiously and looked about the room in a small panic. After the display, he slid back his seat and departed.

         The two didn't share another word all day, not that Greg recalled actually sharing one to begin with, and Jefferson left about two hour early. Don't I usually take him home? The entire day went by rather quickly, partly because the first half had gone by unaccounted for, and partly because his work from those missing hours was finished. It was as if he'd come to work, apparently drunk, worked as scheduled, but off the clock, passed out, and forgotten everything. But he knew he hadn't been to work on time, and neither had Jefferson. They were somewhere else that morning, but he couldn't remember where. He was finally in the parking garage, but now he was faced with another unsettling fact...the garage was empty, save two cars, neither his.

         "It wasn't stolen." It was Jefferson. "Well then," Greg's fuse felt a bit shorter than usual "where the hell is it?" There were no more cars to be seen. It was only a single level garage, and he had his own space in it. "I can't really tell you. But before you ask, I don't just work here. I'm with your government. Much as I'd like to, I can't even reimburse you for it. Your car's been...confiscated."
"Why? What happened this morning? We were late to work, I know that. You and I both." Greg said. "Now that I've told about my government position, you know the next word I'll use." Greg was missing the answer, and his face showed it. "Confidential." Jefferson elaborated. "Fine. At lunch...I never spoke, never answered any of your questions, but you responded to something I thought about saying. And why do you need my car?" Jefferson came much closer now, face to face with Greg. "You only need to know that I'm working in your best interest, and that a cab will be here for you in three minutes. Take this." He shoved forty three dollars into Greg's hand. "You'll be thirteen cents short. You have it on you, I assume?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I do." He was completely unsettled, and no where near satisfied with the outcome of the conversation, but he needed some time to sift through everything he'd seen and heard today. "Um...I'll see you here tomorrow?"
"Yes. Try to show up sober." They turned from each other, Jefferson just a little bit faster. It was that instant that Greg found the last piece of this puzzle necessary to involve him until it's completion. Something on Jefferson's left ear...blood. Smeared, as if he'd been wiping away a larger amount and simply missed a bit, thinking he'd gotten it all. A cab pulled up about three minutes later and Greg went home to write this all down. His memory was feeling short today.


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