rain on tulips

It wasn’t much, but I broke the 3000 word mark. So little, and yet, so much more than I’ve written at all in the recent past.

So.

I promised a snippet the other day. Not one to disappoint… a snippet of EndGame:

The cell phone rang out, an insistent, loud version of some recently popular rock song. Somewhere in the back of his mind JJ was certain that he knew the song, but couldn’t place it as he pulled off the headphones attached to his computer and flipped open the little silver phone.

“Yeah?”

“James? That you?” The voice on the other end of the cell crackled, distorted over the decrepit towers.

“Yeah, Tripp. Its me.” JJ rubbed his eyes as he leaned back in his chair, then glanced at the old brass spinner clock on the shelf alongside the computer racks. He’d been working at the console for more than five hours. No wonder his back ached. “What can I do for you?”

“Hells, man! Can’t hardly hear you over this stupid thing! I mean, compared to the lightwire phone I got—”

“Forget it,” JJ cut off his childhood friend with less than suppressed exasperation. “I’m not getting a lightwire anything. Landlines and cell towers are progress enough for me, thanks!” Tripp of all people should understand. But money did strange things, he supposed.

“Well, you can’t blame a guy for trying!” Tripp laughed over the static-laden connection. “You buy into it, makes me more money, we’re all happy!”

JJ smiled, shaking his head. “Money doesn’t buy ‘happy’, Tripp; haven’t you heard?”

Tripp’s laughter rolled for a moment longer, then died away. “Man, I ain’t called to sell you no lightwires. Just hadn’t heard from you in a while.”

“Yeah, it has been a while.”

“Yeah. Hey, You heard from John? Or from Bert?”

JJ laughed again. “Oh, Tripp! You know how he hates being called that!”

Tripp’s voice on the other end of the call didn’t echo JJ’s amusement. “JJ, have you heard from them? Either of them?”

JJ sobered. Tripp’s tone, even over the ragged connection, was tense, nervous. “No, I haven’t. Haven’t heard from either of them since the last time you and I talked – what? Two weeks ago?” Static-laden silence hung on the receiver. “Tripp? Tripp, what’s going on?”

“Nothin’. Nah, just hadn’t heard from you guys. Thought maybe I pissed somebody off. Nah, its nothing!” Tripp laughed again, but the laughter sounded forced, nervous.

“Hey, Tripp, what’s going on? Really?”

“No, we’re good! What?” It sounded as though his friend had turned away from the phone at the other end of the line. “No, Marly’s out right now. Can I help—” Static broke up the sound of another voice in Tripp’s office, then a crack! thundered in JJ’s ear, and he pulled his phone reflexively away from his head, covering his ear with his opposite hand.

Juggling the phone in his hand, he moved to put it to his opposite ear. “Tripp? Tripp!” He couldn’t make out any sounds over the rising grate of the static on the line, and then the connection terminated. JJ stared at the grainy image of his friend holding a half-drained mug of beer on the picture screen of his cell phone and reflexively found himself praying to a God he no longer believed in to help his friend – whatever it was he needed help with.