Rev 1: Tried to smooth out pronoun vs name usage
Rev 2: Made some general fixes
Rev 3: More show, less tell and general fixes
Tyler barely had time to appreciate the expensive outdoor kitchen, the manicured backyard, or even the kidney-shaped swimming pool. He was too busy being herded down a flagstone path that snaked around to a Spanish style cabana at the far end of the yard. He was glad that Seth’s zeal to follow orders combined with his relative stupidity, hadn't taken them in a direct route across the pool.
Jack was standing on a white Adirondack chair wearing a purple velvet jumpsuit with a leopard-lapel coat. He completed the ensemble with a walking stick, and what he probably thought was an authentic pimp’s hat—broad brimmed and black, encircled by a furry purple fringe. It reminded Tyler of when Ally’s dad had performed Oklahoma. He thought about Jack with a fringe on top, and started to laugh.
Jack stepped off the chair to loom over him. “I’m glad you’re in a good mood, Ty. I think we’ll have some fun tonight.” He gestured to the cabana with a tilt of his head.
Tyler stumbled as he strained against Seth’s death grip and failed; handcuffs couldn’t have been much tighter. He was dragged through the cabana door, which Jack opened with an exaggerated flourish.
He found himself in a dank, dimly-lit room. Bench seating ran down each wall, and even in the faint light he could make out two showers on the far side. Exposed pipe ran across the ceiling and down the back wall, probably to give the interior an urban feel. He could also make out a dark shape with its arms crossed and secured over and behind its head, its back to the shower pipes.
“What’s with the hanged man? Is that Mark?” Tyler asked. “Are you guys having your way with him?” That was all bluff. He hoped he sounded convincing. His arms were all pinpricks. Something was off here.
Jack pulled out a box of cigarettes, tapped the top a few times with his hand, took one, and lit it. The red-orange tip glowed as he inhaled. Exhaling, Jack motioned with the cigarette toward the shape. “Have you met Ben Warren?”
Tyler knew him. They had Algebra together. He was quiet most of the time. Tyler couldn’t remember him saying more than five words. How he got on Jack’s radar was a mystery. Unless it was just the typical, the weak must be tortured sort of thing. Jack motioning for Seth to bring Tyler closer.
Ben’s hair was slick with sweat, and he was breathing rapidly like maybe a rabbit would in a snare. His wrists were attached to a pipe, but in the light it was hard to tell how. Jack took a drag on the cigarette. Tyler supposed he was going to burn Ben with the lit tip. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out something. He held it up so Tyler could see a small plastic inhaler. “You know what it means when someone has asthma?" asked Jack. "It means they're an even bigger pussy than you, Ty. Ben can’t breathe.” He continued to take deep drags off the cigarette blowing out smoke like some demonic furnace. The hacking and long wheezing coughs that followed confirmed his statement.
This was way beyond normal bullying bullshit, even for Jack. Tyler struggled against the grip. “Let him go. Are you out of your mind?”
Jack continued as if he’d said nothing. “He’s another one of Michaela’s little vampire bitches like you.” He lifted Ben’s cape and dropped it, and then flicked his finger against the gold glitter on the boy’s cheek. It must have stung, but there was no response beyond the wet coughing.
Holding the cigarette between two fingers, Jack made a stabbing motion as if it were a knife. Ashes fell to the floor. “I've decided to go all Van Helsing tonight. None of you are getting out of this.”
Tyler spoke over the coughing. “Give him the inhaler. You could kill him.”
Jack casually blew smoke rings. He said, “Seth.”
Tyler was pulled backward against an adjoining set of shower pipes. Jack pulled out some large zip ties from his pocket, and moved to get behind him. Tyler kicked out hitting Jack’s knee. He screamed and fell to the ground. “Fuck, Seth, restrain him.” He was rolling now holding his knee. Seth must have thought restrain meant bang a person’s head into a wall until their brain leaked out. Tyler cried out once, and then his vision grayed at the edges. He heard Jack get up, and soon felt the zip tie cut into his wrists, securing them to a pipe. He didn't see who hit him in the stomach knocking the wind from him.
“Tell you what,” said Jack, “you want him to have it. You give it to him.” He placed the inhaler on the floor. It was clearly out of reach. “You better hurry though; I don’t think he's got a lot of time.” He took a final drag, and flicked the cigarette off of Ben's cheek. The coughing was wet and deep.
“We’re going to go bring you back some more friends,” said Jack. “Screaming won’t do you any good. We tested it earlier, and the music well—" He screamed, “Help, we’re pussies. They’re killing us.” He held his hand up to his ear, as if trying to listen. Finally he lowered it. “No one is coming.”
Rev 2: Made some general fixes
Rev 3: More show, less tell and general fixes
Chapter 6
Tyler barely had time to appreciate the expensive outdoor kitchen, the manicured backyard, or even the kidney-shaped swimming pool. He was too busy being herded down a flagstone path that snaked around to a Spanish style cabana at the far end of the yard. He was glad that Seth’s zeal to follow orders combined with his relative stupidity, hadn't taken them in a direct route across the pool.
Jack was standing on a white Adirondack chair wearing a purple velvet jumpsuit with a leopard-lapel coat. He completed the ensemble with a walking stick, and what he probably thought was an authentic pimp’s hat—broad brimmed and black, encircled by a furry purple fringe. It reminded Tyler of when Ally’s dad had performed Oklahoma. He thought about Jack with a fringe on top, and started to laugh.
Jack stepped off the chair to loom over him. “I’m glad you’re in a good mood, Ty. I think we’ll have some fun tonight.” He gestured to the cabana with a tilt of his head.
Tyler stumbled as he strained against Seth’s death grip and failed; handcuffs couldn’t have been much tighter. He was dragged through the cabana door, which Jack opened with an exaggerated flourish.
He found himself in a dank, dimly-lit room. Bench seating ran down each wall, and even in the faint light he could make out two showers on the far side. Exposed pipe ran across the ceiling and down the back wall, probably to give the interior an urban feel. He could also make out a dark shape with its arms crossed and secured over and behind its head, its back to the shower pipes.
“What’s with the hanged man? Is that Mark?” Tyler asked. “Are you guys having your way with him?” That was all bluff. He hoped he sounded convincing. His arms were all pinpricks. Something was off here.
Jack pulled out a box of cigarettes, tapped the top a few times with his hand, took one, and lit it. The red-orange tip glowed as he inhaled. Exhaling, Jack motioned with the cigarette toward the shape. “Have you met Ben Warren?”
Tyler knew him. They had Algebra together. He was quiet most of the time. Tyler couldn’t remember him saying more than five words. How he got on Jack’s radar was a mystery. Unless it was just the typical, the weak must be tortured sort of thing. Jack motioning for Seth to bring Tyler closer.
Ben’s hair was slick with sweat, and he was breathing rapidly like maybe a rabbit would in a snare. His wrists were attached to a pipe, but in the light it was hard to tell how. Jack took a drag on the cigarette. Tyler supposed he was going to burn Ben with the lit tip. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out something. He held it up so Tyler could see a small plastic inhaler. “You know what it means when someone has asthma?" asked Jack. "It means they're an even bigger pussy than you, Ty. Ben can’t breathe.” He continued to take deep drags off the cigarette blowing out smoke like some demonic furnace. The hacking and long wheezing coughs that followed confirmed his statement.
This was way beyond normal bullying bullshit, even for Jack. Tyler struggled against the grip. “Let him go. Are you out of your mind?”
Jack continued as if he’d said nothing. “He’s another one of Michaela’s little vampire bitches like you.” He lifted Ben’s cape and dropped it, and then flicked his finger against the gold glitter on the boy’s cheek. It must have stung, but there was no response beyond the wet coughing.
Holding the cigarette between two fingers, Jack made a stabbing motion as if it were a knife. Ashes fell to the floor. “I've decided to go all Van Helsing tonight. None of you are getting out of this.”
Tyler spoke over the coughing. “Give him the inhaler. You could kill him.”
Jack casually blew smoke rings. He said, “Seth.”
Tyler was pulled backward against an adjoining set of shower pipes. Jack pulled out some large zip ties from his pocket, and moved to get behind him. Tyler kicked out hitting Jack’s knee. He screamed and fell to the ground. “Fuck, Seth, restrain him.” He was rolling now holding his knee. Seth must have thought restrain meant bang a person’s head into a wall until their brain leaked out. Tyler cried out once, and then his vision grayed at the edges. He heard Jack get up, and soon felt the zip tie cut into his wrists, securing them to a pipe. He didn't see who hit him in the stomach knocking the wind from him.
“Tell you what,” said Jack, “you want him to have it. You give it to him.” He placed the inhaler on the floor. It was clearly out of reach. “You better hurry though; I don’t think he's got a lot of time.” He took a final drag, and flicked the cigarette off of Ben's cheek. The coughing was wet and deep.
“We’re going to go bring you back some more friends,” said Jack. “Screaming won’t do you any good. We tested it earlier, and the music well—" He screamed, “Help, we’re pussies. They’re killing us.” He held his hand up to his ear, as if trying to listen. Finally he lowered it. “No one is coming.”
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The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
