Phone calls before 8 a.m. always startled Jimmy. In his mind, there was never a good reason to call that early. Fortunately, on this particular morning, he had already been up for an hour before it rang on his table.
His confusion only grew when he saw his boss’s cellphone number. He clicked on the third ring.
“Hello?”
“Jimmy, just saw the news this morning. I know you’re in that area, you all right?”
An echo of the explosion seemed to shake his legs, and he could still taste the dust on his lips no matter how many times he brushed his teeth.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Thankfully it was down the street. Besides some dirty windows, my apartment’s okay, too.”
“News made it sound like a riot met a broken gas leak.”
“Yeah, my car got a bit dinged up. Some windows busted out, but insurance can handle it.” He hoped insurance would handle it, anyway. “May be late getting into work though.”
“That’s why I was calling, maybe take the day off.”
“Why?”
“I’m gonna be direct, Jimbo. You’ve looked like you’ve been through hell lately, and then someone blew up your street. I just—no, listen—I don’t care if you’re fine or not, I just want you to be fine another day. So, think of it as forced PTO on my dime.”
Jimmy leaned back into his kitchen seat. Somehow his left hand had found its way to press into his temple. “Um, yeah, sure. I guess I could use a day. Thanks, boss.”
“Take care of yourself, Jimmy. See you tomorrow.”
Jimmy said his goodbye and hung up. Work was normal, and he had never wanted normal as badly as he did now. What would he do alone at home?
As if in answer, a bit of debris fell out of his hair. He had taken a shower once he got home the night before, but in his exhaustion, he must have done the bare minimum. With nothing else to do, he decided to clean up.
He stayed in the shower until the hot water gave early signs of growing cold, marveling at how the first few minutes rinsed off in gray-brown rivulets. There was dust in places he had never realized dust could get, and now it tried to cling like a film to the foot of his shower.
So, he spent five minutes cleaning that. If the water was that dirty, his sheets would need to be washed as well. He didn’t bother to clean the clothes he wore during the event. He was awake enough to throw those away once he got home.
Then he swept the entire apartment, gathering bits of dust, cement, and sand, until he was satisfied. He had hoped to see a later time when he looked at the clock, but it only flashed 9:30 a.m.
A rumble he had ignored all morning came from his stomach, and clean though it was, his kitchen was meant to be used. Not just clean. And he had time to cook, so why not go big?
Before he knew it, half a packet of bacon was cooked and sitting on a paper towel and plate while thinly sliced potatoes sizzled in the leftover bacon. His largest mug of coffee in hand, he nearly danced as he reached for the eggs.
“Lou, can you have Johnny and the boys whip us up some omelettes?”
Jimmy nearly dropped one of the delicate shells at the memory of Haldrin.
Soon, two eggs, fried hard, spit and popped alongside the shuffled potatoes. He didn’t mean to break the yolks, but he steeled himself to enjoy the meal anyway.
He took the heaping plate to sit on his couch and was delighted he found a show to binge long before any of it began to cool. He was mindlessly where he wanted to be—but only for an hour or so.
Haldrin’s voice returned, unbidden once again. “I would recommend you write everything down once you get home.”
Jimmy choked down a piece of buttered toast, washing it down with a sip of coffee.
“Got you beat there, Judd.” He spoke to himself; isolation makes one daring. It occurred to him that Mr. Haldrin had never given the first name—that was Barry, weeks ago. Jimmy never knew if he had the same privilege to use the name himself.
It took some searching, but his old notebook was found under a pile of bills and advertisements on the kitchen counter. The first page nearly earned a laugh—he didn’t know if he was tracking superheroes or recording his own mental breakdown.
There were dates, news clippings, scrawled websites and questionable usernames. Witnesses. And questions. So many questions.
The Vigil? had a large scratch through it, replaced with The Vigilant? Jimmy huffed; at least there was one answer. But there were so many gaps.
All the clippings and forums, all speculation at what Jimmy knew to be true, and it only now bugged him that he never knew how long he’d known. He read on, recalling Mr. Haldrin’s man planting a summons for breakfast.
There was no writing at all about the meeting itself. He hadn’t had time to write any of its details. He did, however, write six words: Brown hair. Brown eyes. Oval face.
He clenched his eyes, forcing memories to the point of a headache. She stood in his kitchen, moved like she knew where things were. She liked peppermint tea with milk. He chided her for it.
“No,” he said aloud. She got defensive when he said he didn’t want the milk. She knew he didn’t.
She was tired, the same way Paul was tired. Jimmy couldn’t recall her face.
“I can take away memories, but I haven’t learned how to fill the hole they leave behind.”
She had said that. That was new.
Can take memories, but can’t replace them. Can choose what stays?
But his pen didn’t stop there. He talked about Paul’s dinner invitation, how calm the night was, enjoyable even. Jean’s concerns, her gratitude. The odd shockwave that hit his car. The explosion. Paul. The wall fell. Paul didn’t. The kid, the lady. The smiles.
Congregabis — “you will gather.” Harvest.
Haldrin taught him that translation. But that was another thing. Haldrin’s network detected the people. What did he mean by that?
Haldrin has network. Drawing out Vigilant?
“They are remarkably predictable when innocent lives are threatened, but that mess was more than we were prepared for.”
Haldrin knew how to find the Vigilant. How much had the man known, and how much did he hide behind his little restaurant?
He knows how to predict when they’ll show up.
There was one final thing he needed to add, as much as he would like to forget it.
FOUND ANOTHER???
No matter how ridiculous he wrote it, the words felt threatening. Haldrin had a theory, he all but said Jimmy was a target, but he did not want to go down that path or any path. He had been given the day off, and all his thoughts and questions were now parked. They could wait until tomorrow.
Instead, he just scribbled, Another what?, closed his journal, and found an old book to read.
The rest of the morning passed in beautiful silence, aside from the work crews outside providing just the right amount of muffled white noise. A nap almost crept up on Jimmy before his phone buzzed again.
It was a text from Paul.
You good?
Jimmy blinked. Was his best friend being serious right now? Did Paul see him last night or did he hear the news?
Yeah. Car’s screwed. I’m fine.
The phone began to vibrate again, only now Paul was calling.
“Hey Paul,” Jimmy answered.
“You need some help with the car?” Paul jumped right in.
“No, it’s all good. Boss gave me the day off, gonna have to get it towed, anyway.”
“Day off? Need some company?” Was it Jimmy’s mind, or was there a little desperation in his friend’s voice? He would love to see his best friend, but he doubted Paul could leave work out of things.
“No, been a minute since I’ve had a day to myself. Speaking of which, how’d last night go?”
The other end of the line went quiet, only a hair too long, before Paul muttered something about it being overblown.
We’ve been best friends more than 30 years. You may not be lying, but you’re not telling the truth, Jimmy thought.
“Seriously, though. You good? Sure you don’t want me to come over? I feel bad having to bail last night.” There was no mistake now, there was something to Paul’s voice.
“I appreciate it, Pauly, but I think I’m enjoying the quiet today. I’m good. We’re good.” He hoped it was enough.
“All right,” said Paul, barely hiding his disappointment. “Well, I’ll let you go. Jean’ll be glad to know you’re good. Kids nearly cried when they saw the news, worried about you.”
The two shared a goodbye, and Jimmy returned to his notebook.
Was it only yesterday that all this happened? Then he remembered Jean’s specific request: “Just keep being the good friend you are.”
Jimmy picked up his notebook and wrote down one final question:
What does Paul need from me?
Then he let it rest. Perhaps the questions needed the quiet as much as he did.
For the first time in what felt like weeks, Jimmy had nowhere he needed to be.
So, he stayed there.
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