0.00
(0 votes)
You must login to vote
|
|
|
Jasper Morgans sat at his dining room table, quietly sipping his coffee. Black. Just the way he liked it. He set down his cup and began to enjoy his scrambled eggs and bacon. He looked up across the dinner table to his wife, and to his son that sat to his left.
"After work today, Mary Anne, I was thinking of picking up dinner at that pizza place tonight, then maybe a movie. That sound good to you?" Jasper asked through chews. Marie Anne nodded her head.
"Any ideas on what movies you want, Junior?" JJ shook his head.
"Well, I guess I'll decide then," Jasper said, finishing off his last piece of bacon, "I got a full day ahead of me. Mr. Withers is really getting on my case to seal the Thomson account, but I have a stack of papers to still get through. Not only that, but Marty wanted me over quickly for lunch today, talk over that business idea of his. Probably as hair-brained as the last one." Jasper slurped the rest of his coffee down, headed for the door, ruffling his sons hair and quickly a giving his wife a peck on the check. “ Have a good day, honey.”
He grabbed his jacket from the railing of the staircase as he hurried outside, briefcase and keys in hand. The air seemed refreshing, as he drew in a deep breath. He headed down the steps of his apartment, head full of thoughts. The city was wild already. He should have left sooner, he thought, getting into the driver’s seat of his beat up Chevy. His father had given him the car when he was sixteen, so the years were catching up to it quickly. He pulled it into gear and backed out onto Marble Street, quickly heading off to his office on 42nd Avenue.
()
Parking was terrible. Jasper’s usual spot was taken, and he hated the reserved parking area, so he had to take an extra fifteen minutes finding another spot. He was already late.
“Morning, Jake,” he said hurriedly, passing the doorman. He showed his ID to the security waiting for all those rushing off to their beehive lives. Jasper hurried, catching the elevator just before the doors shut him out, and made his way into the stuffy, crowded area. A stiff odor hung in the air, the people in the square just as stiff towards each other. Jasper got off on his third floor, and, as he quickly exited into the low murmur of the office atmosphere, spotted Mr. Withers standing by the water cooler.
“Sorry about my tardiness, Mr. Withers,” Jasper said, grabbing himself a cup of water to calm his sore throat, “You know how the city is in the morning.”
Mr. Withers gave him that old look, the look that always asked the same questions. Why don’t you leave earlier? Why don’t you take a different route? Jasper looked down quickly, trying to think of something to say to cover himself.
“I finished the Thomson account,” he declared before Mr. Withers could go into his lecture about the importance of time management, “ Well, the numbers on it, anyway. The legalities are not within my department, but, through my calculations, I have determined their fraudulent overhead costs and fraudulent tax deductions. Hopefully the ADA can deal with the rest of that.”
Mr. Withers gave a nod of approval, along with a small, rare smile, though he would hate to admit it. Jasper thought happy thoughts, making his way to his window view office, saying his hellos and good mornings to his fellow cohorts.
“Any messages for me today, Sandy?” he asked his cute, perky secretary. She said no, blushing, as she always did, knowing what ideas swam through Jasper’s mind when she was not looking, or he believed she was not looking.
Jasper walked into his office, set down his suitcase on his desk. He walked over to the window, watching out into the city. The sun glared down into his eyes, the windows seeming to enhance the heat. His eyes wondered from the sky to the street. He saw himself as above, as higher then them all. Although others see him as good willed towards all, he sees himself as superior. Smarter. Faster. Stronger. Better.
Not that he’d ever reveal this to anyone.
()
The morning seemed like that of squealing brakes to Jasper. Although he did finish some paperwork on the Burgerson and Fillanzo accounts, his main worry, the Thomson account, a huge merger between Thomson Inc. and Static Symbols, the countries largest music store, was eating away at him. Sandy had bothered him numerous times, just for this and that, mostly just to smile at him it seemed. Marie Ann had also called to inform him of the sad news that her cousin had passed away. This wore away at Jasper as well.
He looked up at the clock. Eleven fifty-two. Good enough, he thought, Marty will be waiting for me anyway. He grabbed his jacket and hurried out the door, flashing Sandy a quick smile while rushing by. As he turned the corner of a cubicle, he ran into somebody.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said quickly, bending down to help the fellow with his papers, “Lunch, you know. Just trying to escape.” He laughed at his own joke, leaving the man with his work. He again barely caught the elevator down to the main floor. As he got on board, he realized that, although riding with practically the same people in this elevator day in and day out, he did not know a single name.
“Hi, how are you?” he asked a prissy looking woman beside him. She quickly glanced at him, lips tight and lush, and turned away, not saying a word. So much for socialization, Jasper thought, quickly avoiding more awkward instances within his work building, being the first to exit the elevator, seemingly before the doors even had time to open.
Out of the building and into the city. Once more couldn't hurt anybody. There were just hazards every which way that Jasper peered. Construction, vehicles and shady looking characters crowded the streets in which Jasper walked through. Jasper kept his head low and his hands close, as accusations could come from anybody at anytime. The pickpockets were getting smarter in their works, and the victims seemed to be getting dumber.
Marty's place was a close drive. He worked out of home, so he always knew were to find him. There was no lag time. Jasper walked in the front door without knocking. Even if Marty wasn't expecting him, he knew he was welcome. They were that kind of friend.
Jasper took off his jacket and walked into the den where Marty and him usually spent their lunches discussing matters varying from globally standings to the latest movies.
“Marty?” Jasper called as he entered. Marty was sitting there waiting for him, a cup of tea already poured for him. Steaming hot,
“Marty, what is it this time? I'm getting tired of coming over here just to knock down your hopes again,” Jasper said as he took a seat beside Marty on the couch. His tea tasted tart against his lips as he tried it.
Marty had that look in his eyes, the one that he always had that said he had the idea, but, yet again, not the funds. Jasper had seen this look many times before.
“Listen, Marty, I'm not loaning you anymore money. All of your plans fall through, or you just don't follow through. I'm getting sick of it, and Marie Ann is getting suspicious. I can't afford for her to distrust me again, Marty, you know that!”
Marty stared directly into Jasper's eyes. The light slowly died. He looked away, bringing the cup of tea up to his lips, his hand shaking a little. The tea stung his tongue as he took a gulp.
“Marty. Marty, I need you to listen to me here,” Jasper said, getting up from his seat and turning his back on his friend, “I need my money back. Not all of it. But, I'm having troubles paying the bills recently, and I know their coming in soon. You owe me a lot of money. I need it. Today.” Jasper turned and looked at his friend. Marty had gotten up, and from his stance Jasper could tell something was wrong.
“Marty, I don't want this to get between us,” Jasper said, taking a step back into a more defensive position, “For God's sake, we've been friends for years! But I have a family, we have needs! I can't let you slide anymore!”
Marty lunged at Jasper, catching him by surprise. He had his hands around Jasper's neck. Jasper fought back, trying to pry Marty's hands away from his throat. The pressure was getting tighter and tighter, and his head was becoming dizzy. Marty couldn't afford to lose that money.
The two stumbled across the room, entwined in each others arms in what seemed to be a death grapple. Jasper was quickly losing strength, due to lack of oxygen. Marty's facial features were a combination of sheer horror and undivided joy as he toppled around with his best friends life literally in his hands.
Jasper fought as hard as he could, his muscles tensing, demanding more oxygen to supply strength. He gathered up his last effort, and pushed Marty back. Hard.
Marty crashed into his glass cabinet which had sat in Marty's den as long as Jasper had known him. The glass shattered upon impact, opening Marty up in places, slicing through his tissue like a hot knife. The figurines that sat in the cabinet crumbled to the floor, grotesquely dancing throughout the room. Pieces of figurines and cabinet were strewn throughout the room and Marty's body.
Marty didn't move.
Jasper was shaking. His breathe was ragged. He couldn't move his legs. They felt like bags of sand. Marty lay in front of him, chest and eyes still.
“Marty?”
Marty didn't move. His eyes were glazed over, reflecting back the scene before them.
Jasper didn't reach for his friend. He didn't check his pulse. He didn't take a single step towards him. Jasper Morgans slowly backed out of the den. He turned his back on Marty's corpse. He grabbed his jacket and walked out the door. He walked quickly, his legs acting quicker then he wanted. Calm down, calm down, he screamed in his heads, do not draw attention. Jasper Morgans started his car and backed out of what would be known as a crime victims driveway.
Jasper Morgans was a murderer.
()
Jasper didn't return to work. He didn't go anywhere. He drove around the city. He didn't stop at a bar to have a drink, a drink he believed he desperately needed. He did not speed too fast, or drive too slow. He did not attract attention in anyway imaginable. Yet he couldn't stop, couldn't take the chance.
Jasper had killed his best friend.
They had known each other for years. It was unbelievable the amount of trust that had built between them. They had been through the worst times together. And now, all that was left of that trust and friendship was in an undiscovered, bloody mash of glass and flesh and figurines.
It was nearing seven. Marie Ann would be wondering where he was. He pulled in the drive way. He had forgotten both the pizza and the movie. All he could remember, all he could picture, was Marty.
He unlocked the door and walked in. The house was quiet. Still. There was an unsettling quality to it. He set down his briefcase. Took off his jacket. Removed his shoes. He gently walked through the hallway, through his house which seemed foreign to him. He was a changed man. He was a new man. And this new man was seeing the house for the very first time.
Nobody was in the den. The kitchen was empty as well, aside from the dishes set to dry. Remains of a last minute dinner. He quietly took one step. Then another. Throughout the house. Up the stairs. One step. Two step.
At the top of the stairs, he suddenly felt sick. He quickly, silently headed towards the washroom. As he passed JJ's room, light shone out from under it. Obviously working on homework. Or television.
Jasper shut the door behind him. He looked into the mirror. There was no face, not one of familiarity at least. He was a different person. A changed person. A horrible person.
He turned on the cold water. As he splashed it onto his face, tears flowed freely. He killed his best friend. Silent tears for Marty. That's all he well likely ever get from Jasper. Silent tears.
Jasper left that washroom, attempting to remain in control, attempting to be the old Jasper. The old Jasper was dead.
Marie Ann was sitting in bed, reading. Only the bedside lamp was on. She barely glanced up as Jasper entered. She was angry. Jasper was in no mood to argue. To move. To breathe. Jasper just crawled into bed. Jasper Morgans just pushed the day out of his head.
A siren was sounding from outside his window...
()
“I don't understand, Dad.”
“Me neither, Zach.”
“I mean, according to all reports that came after the blast, their were no survivors left in New York City, right?”
“Exactly, son. And I know what you're thinking. If there's no people, then how...”
“How did all these mannequins get here? How did all these mannequins get everywhere?”
“It makes no sense at all.”
“Maybe...maybe the reports were wrong? Maybe there were survivors? But that wouldn't explain...”
“Son, loneliness can drive a man insane. There is a point that every man would reach if in this situation, and that man, he'll do anything to hold into that last shred of what is right.”
The father and son continued to work down what was left of a street in their biochemical suits. Plants had overgrown much of the city. The wild had moved in. No persons had set foot in the city in twenty years...as far as they knew.
()
Jasper Morgans sat at his dining room table, quietly sipping his coffee. Black. Just the way he liked it...
(RKD)
------
I don't you can see, I only use my superpowers for good...
|
