BOOM by Michael Whetzel Page A

thing he had an extra dress shirt at work
in his locker.
    Those fuckers. I hate them. I hate them so much.
    The faucet dripped steadily in the sink.
    drip drip drip (tick tick tick)
    Jeffrey dried his face and brought out a small bottle of
aspirin from his pocket. He hadn’t even made it to work yet, and the headache
was already in full swing. He emptied half the pills into his mouth and slurped
water from the faucet.
    (tick tick tick tick)
    He slammed the paper towels into the wastebasket.
    “Please fucking go away!”
    The door slammed against the cement wall as he stalked back
to his car.
     
    II.
     
    It was going on three months since the noise had begun. The
incessant countdown in his head, drumming away sleep and sanity inch by inch
until it wore Jeffrey down to another level of numbness. After two weeks of no
rest and throbbing headaches, Jeffrey finally went to the doctor for some help.
    He sat in the white observation room, looking over the
diagrams describing particular illnesses he was sure he had or was surely going
to get in this horribly unlucky life he led. When he had memorized all the
posters in the room, he stared numbly at the white walls until the doctor
arrived.
    (tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick)
    Like ants marching to the beat of the devil’s drum.
    The door opened and a short, balding man entered,
stethoscope draped around his neck.
    “Hello, Jeffrey. I’m Dr. Neese.” Neese was reading over the
notes and information gathered from Jeffrey by the nurse earlier.
    Jeffrey nodded his head slightly in reply. The doctor sat on
a small stool and rolled over to the examination table. He looked at the young
man seated in front of him.
    “What seems to be the problem?”
    Jeffrey sat up a bit straighter on the table.
    “You see, uhm, I’m having a little problem sleeping.” Neese
nodded his head as if he already knew all the burdens that Jeffrey carried on
his shoulders.
    “Tell me about it.”
    “I really haven’t slept in about two weeks. I keep hearing
things.”
    “What kind of things?”
    “Noises.”
    “Like voices?” Neese started jotting notes in a small pad.
    “What? No, no, nothing like that.” Jeffrey was a little
surprised at the question. But he understood the underlying meaning of it. I’m
not crazy. No matter what you think, I’m not losing my mind.
    “It’s like a ticking. A clock ticking all the time.” He
closed his eyes, feeling the lack of sleep weighing on him, but when he
re-opened them the feeling softened.
    Neese shook his head and made a few more marks with his pen.
    “Let me ask you. Is the “ticking” more in your ears or in
your head?”
    “Both. And it’s not just at night. I hear it all the time.
At work, at home. I can hear it right now.”
    Dr. Neese rolled the stool back to the small desk and looked
over the file folder. “Is there anything else you’re noticing with the sound?
Fever, nausea, anything like that?”
    “No. I just hear the noise and can’t sleep. I mean, I’m not
tired, or not as tired as I should be. I still go to work and everything.”
Jeffrey took a large breath and let it out. “It just won’t stop. All day long I
hear it until I almost forget about it. And then I notice it again.”
    The doctor nodded. He returned to the file folder.
    “It says here, Jeffrey, you just graduated from college.
Architecture degree.” Jeffrey nodded. “It also says your parents died in a car
crash your sophomore year. Neither one survived.”  He looked up sadly at his
patient.
    Jeffrey nodded again. Neese continued. “You don’t have any
other family. You’re not married. What about work? How’s being an architect?”
    “I’m not. An architect that is.”
    Neese seemed confused.
    “I couldn’t get a position. The economy is shit, I mean,
excuse me. No one is looking for new architects right now.”
    “I see. The economy’s been crappy to us all.” The doctor
smiled. “Even to us doctors.”
    He took out a