One: Beginnings

Beginnings

Tracy twirled her pencil absent-mindedly, weaving an invisible web. Jessica watched, enchanted “Miss Riley? MISS RILEY!” the teacher shouted at Jessica to break her from her trance.

“Oh! Sorry Mrs. Field, I’m just…. tired” Jessica lied smoothly, startled by Mrs. F’s tone.

“The answer to number three, please” she said in a sugarcoated voice, as if she were talking to a five year old.

“Wait a minute, this is my English binder” she murmured as she hurried out the door to the commons area. Some of the kids snickered under their breath; others just rolled their eyes as if to say here we go again, another week with Jessica Riley….

“Miss Gold, would you like to answer the question?” asked the teacher with an impatient voice.

“One red amoeba will spawn into 1.7354 on average.” She answered in a clever voice.

“Very good, ah! Jessica, I see you’ve returned with the proper binders this time” Mrs. Field exclaimed sarcastically. Jessica plunked herself down at her desk and loudly dropped her binder onto it as if to make a point why yes, I am back, thank you very much. She feigned a polite smile at the teacher and listened, bored to death. “I’m surprised she even is a Mrs.” Jessica murmured to Tracy as Mrs. F babbled on about Hydrogen and Oxygen molecular bonds.

“All right class, your homework for tonight is going to be to read pages 117-132 of your textbooks and answer the questions throughout it, pay attention! There will be a quiz on Mon-“she was loudly cut off by the lunch bell ringing, a constant pet peeve of hers.

“Saved by the bell couldn’t be more appropriate” Tracy joked to Jess, “I was starting to drool”

“Wow, you know Trace, I always though you loved science” she said in a curious voice.

“Well, yeah, but only with Mr. Diaglio” she explained as some useless announcement buzzed on the intercom for Joey Ottinger to please come to the office. Jessica and Tracy slowly made their way down the lunch line. Through the kitchen, simultaneously setting their trays down on the metal bars of the counter and slid them along more out of habit than out of decision. They went through the cashiers stand, handing the cashier their lunch money. It felt as if they were being checked by security in the airport before boarding their flights. They continued on with their conversation about school, boys, what they’re doing this Saturday night, with one thing leading to the next and made their way to the usual side table with their close knit circle of friends who instantly chimed in. “I’m having a party on Saturday, and you’re all invited” said Tom.

“Oooooh! I hope Chad will be there” Madison said dreamily.

“Oh shut up and ask him out already!! He’ll say yes!” Tracy said, having seen Madison watch him walk away every time he passed them in the hallway, usually smacking into an un-amused freshman.

“Connor, you know you’re supposed to eat the food, not wear it, right?” Jessica remarked sarcastically.

“Oh shut up, just because I’m not the most tidy person ever.”

“I was kidding Connor! Jeez” Jess jumped in before he got too overworked. Connor was a quiet boy most of the time, but everybody knew him. The general loud chatter of the lunchroom carried throughout the lobby, and could be heard from outside. Thirty minutes after Jess, Tracy, and 100 other students had entered the cafeteria, the bell rang. The mass of students stampeded out the doors like a pack of Gazelles being chased by a lion.

“Alright class, I assume that you’ve all read chapters 1-3 in gone with the wind?” The class remained silent except for the tapping of Cameron’s pencil and slight humming from the light bulbs overhead. The teacher took this as a yes. Mrs. Loch was the strictest teacher in the entire school, the students were so fearful of her that you could feel the static charge in the air. Jess accidentally said “Yes Sir” to her once, and had been sent to the office for it.

Sam sat in the low curved seat of the subway train reading the morning newspaper, listening to the echo of the music from the man next to him, blaring and off beat with a screeching voice. There was an old man sitting across from him, and a young woman hanging on to the pole. As he looked at each of them, they smiled politely in turn, as if that really mattered at three a.m. The light was filtering through in intermittent bursts lighting up each face for one second and going dark for the next, as if they were trapped inside of a film video camera. The train’s wheels were making the usual clatter on the tracks, like a typewriter key being pressed repeatedly, and suddenly the perfect harmony was ruined. A scratchy voice over the intercom said “next stop, Broadway” and shut off. The train slowed to a gentle halt and the doors hissed open, Sam felt like he was stepping into an alien world, but just like every day he got off the train, up the escalators and through the revolving doors onto the streets of Manhattan, he felt like he was still dreaming, heck he WISHED he was. “One small step for Sam, one giant leap for Sam kind,” he said to himself as he trudged through the streets listening to the ambulance sirens in the distance, and the rhythmic beat of his shoes on the sidewalk.

Sam faced the doors of his tall glass office building on 233 Broadway like it was a monster, waiting to eat him alive the moment he stepped in. He did not like his job at the front desk, answering and forwarding calls eight hours a day about pending business, articles that just couldn't go in, and school nurses wanting to talk to Mrs. Jean, or Mr. Montgomery about their child’s fever. He stepped in the side door of the building and entered the security code to turn off the alarm; he was the only one there. The soft red glow of the exit signs was the only light until he was granted access and greeted by an automated voice that said monotone “good morning Mr. Price”

“Yeah, good morning, that’s one way to put it” he responded to the machine, as if it would listen, or respond to his comment. His footsteps echoed along the long hallways and cross sections until he entered the main lobby with gray upholstered waiting chairs and white carpet, miscellaneous magazines were strewn across the side tables. He sat down at his desk and logged on to his computer, it chimed and let him on to his account. It sounded alien against the wall of silence that surrounded him. “You’ve got mail” the computer told him, he opened an email from [email protected];

“Hey Sam!! How’s the job going? Did you get a new one? I’m stuck in the airport in Seattle, haven’t seen you in months! So, how’ve you been? I’m doing great! How’s the parrot doing? I got a cat named Chester, he’s a Himalayan mix. Ttyl! :D ~ Jeff”

”He’s been in Seattle for a while now, I wonder what’s keeping him, I thought it was just a weeks vacation” Sam said to himself.

The school week was finally over, it was Friday, and Jessica had no plans except to go to Tracy’s house on Saturday and hopefully go to Tom’s party. She was busy practicing her ‘puppy dog’ face in the reflection of the bus window when Connor sat down. He watched her do this for a few minutes then said in a light hearted voice “I really do not want to know what you’re doing there Jess.”

“AAH! Oh, how to explain….” Jess said, trailing off while contemplating how to tell Connor what she had been doing without sounding like a complete idiot.

“Aw c’mon Jess, you can tell me!” Connor pleaded while jokingly mimicking her puppy dog face.

“Okay, well my parents are complete nubs and probably won’t let me go to Tom’s party tonight, so I was practicing the ‘I love you forever and I’ll be super good if you let me go’ face.” Jessica explained, worried that others may have overheard her. Connor, sensing this said “Well, that would be embarrassing, but at least you’re getting practice in” Connor said, sounding awkward. The bus came to a sudden halt, and Connor got up into the aisle letting Jess pass.

“C’ya tomorrow Jess! Oh, and good luck with your parents”

“Thanks, I’ll need it!” Jess called over her shoulder as she hurried out of the doors and onto the dirt road back to her house.

Jessica glided up the stairs of her front door porch and swung open the door, putting on her most cheerful face. She dropped her bag in the entryway and smiled at her father saying cheerfully “Hi Daddy!” on her way by.

Taken aback, he looked up from his newspaper “Who are you and what have you done with Jessica?” He joked.

“Just saying hi” she said in a badly disguised voice.

“Yeah, right. What’s your real motive?” he said in a suspicious voice.

“Nothing” she said again.

“Okay then…” He said, trailing off and returning to his paper while Jessica flitted up the stairs to her room. Jessica hated the unending blinking of the cursor, waiting for her to type her report for History, one which she really did not want to do. Taunting her, saying

“C’mon, type, I dare you, but I’ll bet that you can’t!”

It was the one report that all the students feared a ten page minimum about the history of the Mayans. She was sinking into her chair, centimeter by centimeter, slowly being eaten. But making no progress. 

"DINNER!" called her mom from the kitchen, pulling Jessica out of her chair and down the stairs, the smells guiding her down.

Sam watched the other employees file in one by one with their briefcase or their laptop, like a colony of ants all single file carrying their contribution to the food supply. "Everything’s always mandatory," he said to himself under his breath. The next six hours were filled with phone calls and appointments and all of the usual stuff that he was paid to do because no one else would. "Something wrong Sam?" Andrew asked politely as Sam walked out the door. 

"No nothing's wrong." he answered.

“Oh, okay. See you tomorrow” Andrew said, sounding slightly discouraged. Sometimes Sam wanted someone to look him in the eye and say "tell the truth". Of course this time, he was telling the truth, nothing was wrong, everything was fine, but he wished the days were faster. Fortunately for Sam, he was walking out and into the subway station before he’d even finished his train of thought. Sam hopped down onto the train platform and made his way through the mass of New Yorkers to the yellow line marked do not cross, so he put his foot slightly across the line. The man next to him chuckled “yeah, take that city of Manhattan”

“Ha, yeah.” Sam said halfheartedly, faking a smile. Common short snippets of conversation, seemingly insignificant, but meant so much more. The subway was more populated then earlier that day, apparently I didn’t get the memo, bring all of your friends and their brothers day at the subway station, he thought to himself while fighting and bustling, trying not to be shoved onto the third rail. Sam was so deep in thought that he felt like he was drowning, the screeching of the brakes and lights of the train pulled him out of the deep water of his thoughts, pulling him back to his conscious self just in time to step through the hissing doors into the lit train. The usual loud clatter of the tracks could not be heard today as the general mass of people created a barrier where no one voice could be heard above the rest. Sam nearly missed his stop on the Upper West Side; he was so busy listening to the snippets of conversation he could make out. It was kind of amazing that from just two minutes of conversation your can tell a lot about a person, but you could also get a lot wrong about them.

Sam stepped out of the temporary darkness of the tunnel into the bright light of mid-afternoon and squinted, disoriented for a moment while he adjusted. He blended right into the general crowd, perhaps a little too well, because he couldn’t walk two blocks without getting run into. He hailed a cab; it was as to be expected; musty, cramped and smelled of cigarettes and cheap perfume. He payed the driver, who grunted in response and peeled out, as about a polite ‘goodbye’ as he was going to get. 

Sam walked up to his apartment door, and casually remembered to water his dying plants. He inserted his key, heard the click and opened the door, reaching to the light switch in the kitchen, taking off his coat, and, something was out of place. He had gone through his normal routine, but something changed. He saw the red blinking light and the intermittent beep, beep, beep of the machine. He ignored, figuring he'd deal with whoever it was later, he needed rest. He walked over to his leather couch, sat down and turned on the news. It was the usual jumble of who killed whom, and all the other bull going on in the world.

"What is wrong with us, we use resources in one area, move on, and fight. That's wrong" he said, shaking his head. He flicked through the channels, nothing was on. Except for one interesting show on Discovery about a new virus discovered in some remote area of Africa, but not too interesting. He turned off the TV and drifted into unconsciousness. The steady beeping of the machine, the machine, right.He thought, as he heaved himself off the couch and onto his feet. He walked over to the machine and pressed play, to alleviate his annoyance.

"New message, received Monday, February fifteenth, 4:08 am" said the automated voice in his machine.

"Who the hell was calling me at 4 am?" He thought, but was cut short abruptly when Jacks voice came up on the other line.

"Hey, Sam. I know you work a while away from me, but I think there's something you should see." said Jack. Something I should see? He emailed me this morning that he was in the country, he's not still international. Or is he? He sounded urgent, what could be so important that he'd call me, I'm just an assistant at the NY times...Sam thought after the voice ended. It was unusually silent in the room. There was so much to process, but first, where the hell was Jack? Sam opened up his laptop and checked the date on the email he received, it was dated today. What the hell is going on? He is an infectious disease specialist, but he's not the type that flies the world every day. Sam thought as he closed the lid on his computer. He though back to the TV, and for some reason he turned it back on, maybe it was a fluke, or maybe it was instinct. He turned it back on to the Discovery channel and their piece about dissipating population in Africa, by Zaire. He watched the show half mindedly, mulling over what he had just learned. When the voice over to the clips started to show video of lab workers, he saw Jack. Jack. On Discovery channel, talking about the physical anomolie that had recently sprang up. "Patient zero had been toast in a matter of days" he said "it looked something like Ebola Zaire at first, but the jury's still out, and we will have to wait and see what the government does to contain this" Jack was cut off by Sam turning off the TV. Suddenly, it all clicked. Why Jack called at three am, why he called him.

Author's Note

I do apologize for my grammar, as it is not at it's best in this piece...

Reviews

[Write4theSky]

Nice metaphors and descriptions, such as the very beginning "weaving an invisible web" and the colony of ants Sam describes. I get the sense Connor is going to be important, idk why. The transition from Jess doing homework to Sam is kind of rough, you could change that just to finish Jess's train of thought before going to Sam.
This might be just me, but I think Sam is going a bit slowly. I like him and his thoughts, but perhaps you could put an action that he does with each thought he has?
I love the paragraph after "take that, city of manhattan". I think it's my favorite, but it's a little rough flow-wise. I'm sure that's an easy fix.
I have a hunch about what clicked, but I have no idea how Sam made the connection so quickly! Keep writing, Seb! (do you remember the origins of that nickname? I just remembered).