Colleano

Chapter Three

I roll over and hit my head on the corner of the nightstand.

"Shitballs," another good reason to live alone, no one will be angry with you for shouting curses at ungodly hours.

I turn back over clutching my head.

In general I had cooled down, not nearly as delusional as before.

There's something weird on my chest.

It's kind of heavy, if it were a cockroach at least.

I can't see it very well, as it's dark as fucking shit in my room.

Tentatively, I slide my hand up to my chest and peel whatever it is off of me.

I bring it up to my face.

Trying to examine things in the dark is a lot harder than one might think.

Whatever it is lights up, scorching my retinas.

And that god awful sound-

RRRRRRRR RRRRRRRR RRRRRRRRRRRRR

For some stupid reason my alarm is a panic alarm.

I poke my phone until it shuts off. Toss it beside me on the bed.

Wide awake now, aren't ya?

"Shut up," I say, sneering at myself out loud.

I roll onto the floor and start my crawl to the kitchen, hoping to find some water.

Walking.

Pfffffft. How pedestrian.

Clunk.

Good job self for managing to hit your head twice within the first five minutes of consciousness. I cracked my head on the door. Not the door frame. The actual bedroom door. Yes, it is closed.

I don't remember closing my door.

Eh, no matter.

I pull myself together and into as best a standing position possible and flick on the light.

Might as well open the door, too.

~~

Sitting at the dining room table with his much needed water and the thermos of soup (which he'd been trying to eat with a fork because he didn't want to get back up and get a spoon, he gave up), Simon closes his laptop and thinks of yesterday's events.

The tongue was definitely the peak of the day. It was actually probably the peak of a long, long time.

The last remotely exciting one was a narcotics "case" (it was more to just find the kids and rap their knuckles pretty much). He had followed the team into a run down apartment complex (he was the one to find where they had holed up), searching for two guys (early twenties) who had been selling speed and cigarettes outside of their college lives where they both studied at Pacific, one majored in International Business, the other in Theater. It was an odd combo. But anyway, they busted down their door and found them counting out money, sitting on the floor. The two guys tried to bolt but the officers got one and Simon dropped the other with a quick jab to the kid's throat, it was fun he had to admit. The gurgling noise was quite amusing. They found the speed in a backpack, there was quite a bit there, along with the cigs.

But yes, the only exciting part had been the throat jabbing.

After Simon's rough, early morning start, he managed to get in contact with Johnson and his team, sending an email their way.

It loosely detailed what their course of action after yesterday should probably be, including a list of missing persons he compiled that ranged from most recent today, all the way back to a week ago. It was a short list, Simon narrowed it down to people who could fit the description of "male" because Johnson's staff could be quite dim and would most likely forget to do so. He also gave them the addresses of all of these gentlemen so they could go and question families, buy donuts, or go do whatever cops do.