Two Heartbeats on One Page

Chapter 21

For the first time since the robbery two days prior, Jordan turned on his computer and went online. He stayed far away from any news sites, sticking solely to webcomics and stupid cat pictures, with AIM and Skype minimized down to his toolbar while hoping someone would log on soon. Jenna still hadn't called to let him know when CounterCulture would be opening again, only to tell him that they still didn't know. They hadn't caught the robber yet. Jordan didn't know if he lived nearby. He didn't know what the robber looked like or if the man would recognize him, or what he might do if he did.

He needed to get back to work, but he couldn't until they opened again. In the meantime, he was terrified of leaving his apartment.

He'd also definitely gotten sick. His cough wasn't too bad, but his head was so congested and clogged, his vision had gone blurry and his nose was so stuffed up he had to breathe through his mouth. It had gone into his lungs, thick and wheezing.

When the loud ringer of his phone broke the heavy silence he nearly fell off the bed, and when he breathed in sharply it triggered a small coughing fit. He grabbed his phone with one hand and pressed the other to his chest, trying to calm his heartbeat down. How long was he going to be like this?

The caller ID said it was Terrence. Jordan cleared his throat.

"Hey," he answered.

"Hey," Terrence said. "So, I'm at CounterCulture, which I've heard is open 24/7, 365, but the lights are off and the sign says that you're closed until further notice, sorry for the inconvenience?"

Jordan swallowed. His voice shook when he said, "I guess you haven't heard?"

Terrence's voice went soft and serious. "Jordan?"

"We were robbed two nights ago. They still haven't caught him and we're going to be closed for a few days until... until I don't know what."

"Christ," Terrence whispered. "Shit, Jordan, were you on shift?"

Jordan ran a shaky hand through his hair and turned his laptop away. Two things at once was too many right now.

"Yeah," Jordan murmured. "I was on cash register."

"Are you fucking serious? Oh, fuck, are you all right?"

"I... I think so."

"Do you want me to come over? I mean, I'm right down the street now, anyway."

"Yeah," Jordan murmured. "I'd like that."

"Okay," Terrence said. "Be there shortly."

He hung up.

Jordan didn't go back to his laptop. A soft beep told him he had a new message, but he didn't want to deal with it. Later.

With a soft groan, he scrubbed at his face with his hands, like if he pressed his palms into it hard enough he could fix all of his problems and be okay again. He hated this. He hated being so jumpy all the time, he hated being so nervous in busy places, he hated shying away every time someone passed him on the street who was probably only going about their day, just like him. But what if they weren't? Any time he entered a building, now, he looked for every possible exit: doors, windows, even skylights. Everyone was either a threat or potential collateral, even the dad with the baby stroller and the bent over old lady with the cane and the little six year old eating an ice cream cone.

He hated it. And when he talked to Darcey about it and saw the way his posture changed and his eyes darkened, Jordan knew that every day of his life was exactly the same, and he hated that, too.

And he hated how helpless they were to do anything about it.

His computer beeped again, and then someone knocked, sharp, staccato, one, two, three. Terrence.