Free Jonah Havensby by Bob Bannon Page B

He would attract attention. But the pain - There was so much pain!
    He squeezed his eyes shut tight and rubbed them with the balls of his hands. It seemed to help a modest amount. He didn’t know how long he sat like that, rocking back and forth, willing the pain to stop. When he looked at the clock again, it was ten minutes later.
    He winked his right eye, the one that didn’t hurt. Then winked the left. Then both of them together. He did this several times and found that the pain had subsided, although it seemed to have shot to the back of his head, like the drill had finally found its target and was making its way dully back there. He wondered briefly if he had some sort of brain tumor, but the thought was too overwhelming, so he pushed it away.
    When the pain finally stopped altogether, he found that he was sweating even in the crisp winter air. He unplugged the blanket and he pulled off his sweater. That’s when the smell hit him.
    He only had two full changes of clothes and had been alternating them on a daily basis. The two sweaters and his coat seemed to have masked the point that his undershirts had become pretty rank even though he’d been trying to keep himself pretty well washed.
    He peeled the red t-shirt off and went into the bathroom. He wet it under the tap of the large work sink and then scrubbed it with his bar of soap, twisting it every which way, scrubbing at it, and then unfurling it and rinsing it out as best he could. He went back into the office and hung it from the long, extended microphone at the control station.
    The other t-shirt, the tan one with the surfing logo on it, was still in his backpack. He smelled it. It wasn’t quite as bad as the other one. He would wear this one today and then, if the first dried out by tomorrow, he’d wash this one too.
    He took out his second pair of jeans and tested them as well. At least the jeans seemed to be holding up. He knew he’d have to wash them both at some point, but they seemed so heavy, he wasn’t really sure how long they might take to dry in the air. He took the green gem out of his pocket and laid it on the desk.
    The second set of clothes he took into the bathroom. He washed himself, then washed out the boxers and the socks he wore last night. He dressed in the clothes he had brought in and then laid the boxers and socks on the control panel in the office.
    The brown sweater in his backpack was the thinner of the two he had. The blue one was double-knitted and had a crewneck. The brown one had a v-neck. The sweaters were holding up seemingly as well as the jeans, but he’d have to be more careful about rinsing out his underclothes.
    He found the basketball shorts at the bottom of the backpack. There was a dirt stain across the thigh. He took them and washed them in the sink, but not a lot could be done about the stain that had already been set. They definitely looked better. He laid them over the office chair.
    When he moved the backpack again, he spotted the change he’d thrown on the desk. It seemed to be less than a handful. Still, it seemed to be a glaring reminder of wrongdoing. He absently sorted it into pennies, dimes and nickels. He even came up with two quarters. After he sorted it, he counted it. He totaled it to be one dollar and fourteen cents.
    He wondered what he could do with it. He was sure it wouldn’t get him food, maybe just a candy bar. But then a funny thought had occurred to him. In the newer part of the mall, all the soda machines gave out bottles of soda and they cost two dollars. But there was a machine in the older part that still gave cans, and he was sure the cans were only seventy-five cents. He decided he’d go to the mall and get a soda. At least he’d be returning the money to the mall in some way, even if that wasn’t its intended purpose.
    He put the change in his pocket. He was going to start his normal routine of packing all of his belongings into the backpack, but remembered that most of his