Atlanta, Georgia 1886
Jeffrey groaned as he got up from the wet grass. Appearently it had been raining, due to the looks of the puddles in the nearby roads.
His
partner stood up, a little shaky. Jeffrey figured it was
due to his bad knee, so he didn't really think much about
it.
"Where are we, Bogg?" he
asked the familiar question.
"Hold on, just a sec." Feeling a little queasy, Phineas turned away from Jeffrey and began to hurl.
"Bogg? You okay?" came the concerned voice of his young partner, who had noticed an unusual shade of green on his face.
Phineas whiped his mouth and turned back to the young man. "I think something we ate back there didn't agree with me,"
Jeff made a face. "You don't think it could have been that hot dog with all the works?" he said dryly.
He
grimaced as the thought of that wonderful hot dog
threatened to turn his stomach again.
"Could be...." He cut himself
off as he whirled away and was sick again.
Jeffrey winced at the sound and felt awful
for his friend. He hated throwing up; more than likely so
did Phineas.
"We don't have to do anything
right away if you don't feel up to it," he
said.
When he was
finished, Phineas turned around to face Jeff
again.
"I'll be
okay, kid. Just give me a minute, will ya?"
Phineas groaned, clutching at his stomach,which was
cramping painfully.
He gulped to try to control the rising
bile, but it was a losing battle; he turned round once
again to toss---what?
He didn't think he'd eaten that
much; where was it all coming from?
He hated being sick, especially in front of the kid. Though some part of him knew Jeffrey wouldn't think less of him for it, even after all this time his ego refused to let go of the image of the strong one, the one who could handle anything. Now he felt vulnrable, weak.
"Bogg?" Jeff's voice was full of concern.
"Don't worry. We'll get your Coca-Cola up and running," he told him.
"Right now I'm more worried about you," Jeffrey said, putting a hand on the man's shoulder.
Phineas forced a smile. "Thanks, kid. I appereciate that."
Jeffrey wrapped his arms around him, and Bogg returned the favor, until he felt the urge to vomit once again. He couldn't let go of Jeffrey fast enough, but at least he managed not to splatter him. " Sorry, kid," he groaned when the retching stopped.
"It's okay, Bogg," Jeff assured him.
"Are you all right, sir?" a voice from behind them asked, and theyturned to face a man in is early middle years, with greying dark hair and sparkling brown eyes.
"My father ate something that didn't agree with him," Jeffrey answered. Once he would have been uncertain about making that claim, but they'd used the cover enough times now that it was nearly automatic.
"I may be able to help you," the man offered.
Firmly sitting on his ego, he admitted with a wry smile, "I'd really appreciate that."
"Then please, come with me."
The pair followed the newcomer cautiously and slowly, mostly for Phineas' benefit, since his stomach was still uncertain. He put a hand on Jeff's shoulder.
The boy looked up at him and noticed the look. "Sir, we need to stop for a minute." he informed the stranger, who had gotten a little ahead of them.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm not used to people walking with me. We shall take a moment's rest, if needed."
Phineas nodded thankfully and sat down on a nearby bench. He was beginning to feel weaker by the moment.
"We're not that far away from my house, if you think you can make it," the man informed them.
Jeffrey sat down next to Phineas and put an arm around the man's shulder. He could feel the tension increasing in Bogg and was getting more worried. He'd never known Bogg to be sick, and he was not afraid to admit that he was getting scared. He was glad of the help, since he didn't know what to do. A coke would have helped to settle his stomach, but that was the problem: It hadn't been invented. "Think you can walk?" he asked, trying to sound calmer than he was.
"I think so. Just help me up, will ya?"
Jeff obliged, hiding the rapidly growing fear. Bogg rarely asked for help until all other options had been exhausted. Once he had steadied himsef, they continued to walk until they came to a white house with a front porch. But they didn't go inside; instead, the stranger led them into the back yard, where they found a small fire burning. A kettle was hanging on a tripod over it, merrily boiling. He poured the contents into a tin mug and handed it to Bogg. "You'll need to drink all of it, sir," he said.
Phineas took a sip and made a face.
"That bad, huh?" Jeffrey said sympatheticlly.
"Awful," Phineas had to admit, but took another gulp. As long as it worked, it didn't matter how it tasted. He actually managed to drink the whole cup before he handed it back to their benefactor. It worked fast; his stomach was already beginning to feel better.
"I'm Jeffrey Jones. This is my father, Phineas Bogg." Jeffrey introduced the both of them.
"But you have different last names," the man remarked, puzzled.
"I'm actually his guardian," Bogg said. "His parents are gone."
The man glanced at Jeffrey. "I'm sorry," he said.
"It's okay. Bogg's great," Jeffrey smiled, and it really was okay. Bogg's care, more than just time, had gone a long way toward helping to heal his pain.
"I'm John Pemberton," the man introduced himself and shook hands with both of them. It was then Jeffrey realized that they were conversing with the very man who was supposed to invent Coca-Cola.
"Bogg, it's him!" Jeffrey hissed, not caring that Pemberton heard.
Phineas looked over at the other man, who was busy feeding the fire.
"You sure?" he whispered.
"Sure I'm sure. I remember reading about how he made soda. This is the exact way they said he did it before it was soda."
Phineas opened up his Omni. "If this is the way it's done, then how come it's still red?" He showed Jeffrey the blinking Omni.
Jeffrey shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe something happens between now and when he invents soda."
Phineas nodded. He looks right into Jeff's brown eyes. "Hey, ya know something?"
"What?"
"I'm feeling much better. I don't even feel sick anymore."
"Hey, that's great!"
Pemberton stood up and noticed the change in their demeanor. "I take it you're feeling better," he remarked.
"Yes, sir, I am. Thank you," Bogg replied.
"My pleasure," Pemberton smiled at him.
"Is there something we can do for you?" Jeffrey asked.
"Not really," Pemberton sighed, looking over at his little camp fire.
"But there is a problem, isn't there?" Bogg said perceptively.
"Well, since the bank won't fund my research, I guess I'll have to give it up and wait 'til someone else comes along who's willing to help me."
Jeffrey and Bogg exchanged glances. Now they knew what was wrong.....
