The Orange Globe V.1
This is what bad friends are really like...
Chapter 1: Window to Nowhere
Walking home from school with a backpack slung over his shoulder, a rusted black truck drove slowly beside him. Jordan couldn't see the driver, nor could he see the passenger; the windows were tinted. It was moving at the same pace as he was. He squinted as the window lowered itself. He could see himself in the reflection of the-you've got to me shitting me he thought. Behind the window was a teenage male. He held a baseball bat in one hand and a smoldering cigarette in the other. He must've been standing there like a fool for about four minutes before the driver finally said, "Aren't you gonna run?"
He stumbled over the fallen mailbox and landed on the grassy lawn, his quivering frame coated in dirt and sweat. Flies buzzed around him as he swatted them away with his free hand. They would be coming soon; he'd never been so scared in his life. He could hear the revving of the Ford pickup truck as a pair of headlights blinded him. His entire field of vision was a blur; he quickly scrambled to his feet as he ducked under the swing of a wooden bat as the car drove by. One of the men, wearing a Red Sox cap and having the bat slung over his right shoulder, stuck his head out the car window. "Are you having fun yet?"
What was their names? That's it. Todd. Todd and James. Jordan had been friends with them since...since junior high. Now, at nineteen years old, they've gone completely mad. He had no doubt they were high on something. There were four houses at the edge of the cul-de-sac; three on his right, one on his left. He'd never been on this part of his neighborhood; he was no Olympic runner but he had sprinted an entire mile in under four minutes. He felt as if his chest was going to burst any moment. He couldn't run anymore. He made a final dash towards the house on the left, shouldering the door as he made it up the steps. It didn't budge an inch.
Panic started to overwhelm his as he saw the truck move backwards, turn, and start again towards him. The shook the door knob furiously until it actually sprang out of the frame. The door creaked inwards as he pushed it aside and made it up the stairs, wheezing and coughing. It had grown abnormally silent; night had already fallen before he knew it as he found himself cornered in a dead end. He heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Sweat streamed down his face like a river; he knelt beside the bed and crawled under, selecting the most cliched hiding spot in the history of mankind.
The thud of heavy leather boots rang in his ears as he heard them reach the top. He drew further back as he heard them come closer. And sneezed. The footsteps stopped immediately and a sound of laughter erupted throughout the room as he felt the bed being lifted up above him. He set his back to the wall and felt his hand brushed against something metal. A revolver. He drew it and aimed it at Todd, his hands shaking as he held it. "Hey! Don't shoot man-" Without knowing what he was doing, he squeezed the trigger six times. The bat hit the ground with a dull thud as Todd sunk to the floor as if underwater, his life quickly draining from him. He turned the gun to James, his hands sweating profusely. James stepped slowly backwards, his hand raised. He pulled the trigger anyway. Click! "Shit!" Jordan screamed, tossing the gun aside.
All fear forgotten, James rushed forward, snatching the baseball bat. Todd's fingers fumbled for the window lock. He snapped it open and pushed the window up. He climbed over the side and-an immensely powerful hand gripped his ankle like a bear trap and pulled him down. Jordan shook his head furiously as he saw the bat tapping lightly against the side of James's leg. "No, no, no, no, no..." You know that moment when you are trapped-defenseless-and you have that feeling that someone is going to come and save you? This was nothing like that.
The wooden bat dipped forward and cracked his shoulder, blood leaking out immediately. Again and again that same thud thud thud sound of wood on flesh came. Jordon felt absolutely nothing. He could only see his blood soaked shirt; he could only hear the distant thud of the bat. Relentlessly, James swung the bat over and over until-Crack! The bat snapped in two on Jordan's shoulder. Jordan's eyes snapped open at the sound. He craned his neck slowly towards James. He could tell that he too was exhausted.
The very moment he tried to move he felt excruciating pain for the first time. Jordan reached for the window and managed to get half of his body over. James did nothing. He figured Jordan was going to end up killing himself by doing that. He was too tired to care. Jordan managed to get himself over the other side and found himself falling for what seemed like ages when he finally fell two stories down with a Crash! He had landed on a wooden fence, sending splinters scattering all over the lawn. Wooden shards were lodged deeply into his back but he didn't care. He needed to get away. He crawled on until God-Knows-When until everything slowly faded black.
Walking home from school with a backpack slung over his shoulder, a rusted black truck drove slowly beside him. Jordan couldn't see the driver, nor could he see the passenger; the windows were tinted. It was moving at the same pace as he was. He squinted as the window lowered itself. He could see himself in the reflection of the-you've got to me shitting me he thought. Behind the window was a teenage male. He held a baseball bat in one hand and a smoldering cigarette in the other. He must've been standing there like a fool for about four minutes before the driver finally said, "Aren't you gonna run?"
He stumbled over the fallen mailbox and landed on the grassy lawn, his quivering frame coated in dirt and sweat. Flies buzzed around him as he swatted them away with his free hand. They would be coming soon; he'd never been so scared in his life. He could hear the revving of the Ford pickup truck as a pair of headlights blinded him. His entire field of vision was a blur; he quickly scrambled to his feet as he ducked under the swing of a wooden bat as the car drove by. One of the men, wearing a Red Sox cap and having the bat slung over his right shoulder, stuck his head out the car window. "Are you having fun yet?"
What was their names? That's it. Todd. Todd and James. Jordan had been friends with them since...since junior high. Now, at nineteen years old, they've gone completely mad. He had no doubt they were high on something. There were four houses at the edge of the cul-de-sac; three on his right, one on his left. He'd never been on this part of his neighborhood; he was no Olympic runner but he had sprinted an entire mile in under four minutes. He felt as if his chest was going to burst any moment. He couldn't run anymore. He made a final dash towards the house on the left, shouldering the door as he made it up the steps. It didn't budge an inch.
Panic started to overwhelm his as he saw the truck move backwards, turn, and start again towards him. The shook the door knob furiously until it actually sprang out of the frame. The door creaked inwards as he pushed it aside and made it up the stairs, wheezing and coughing. It had grown abnormally silent; night had already fallen before he knew it as he found himself cornered in a dead end. He heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Sweat streamed down his face like a river; he knelt beside the bed and crawled under, selecting the most cliched hiding spot in the history of mankind.
The thud of heavy leather boots rang in his ears as he heard them reach the top. He drew further back as he heard them come closer. And sneezed. The footsteps stopped immediately and a sound of laughter erupted throughout the room as he felt the bed being lifted up above him. He set his back to the wall and felt his hand brushed against something metal. A revolver. He drew it and aimed it at Todd, his hands shaking as he held it. "Hey! Don't shoot man-" Without knowing what he was doing, he squeezed the trigger six times. The bat hit the ground with a dull thud as Todd sunk to the floor as if underwater, his life quickly draining from him. He turned the gun to James, his hands sweating profusely. James stepped slowly backwards, his hand raised. He pulled the trigger anyway. Click! "Shit!" Jordan screamed, tossing the gun aside.
All fear forgotten, James rushed forward, snatching the baseball bat. Todd's fingers fumbled for the window lock. He snapped it open and pushed the window up. He climbed over the side and-an immensely powerful hand gripped his ankle like a bear trap and pulled him down. Jordan shook his head furiously as he saw the bat tapping lightly against the side of James's leg. "No, no, no, no, no..." You know that moment when you are trapped-defenseless-and you have that feeling that someone is going to come and save you? This was nothing like that.
The wooden bat dipped forward and cracked his shoulder, blood leaking out immediately. Again and again that same thud thud thud sound of wood on flesh came. Jordon felt absolutely nothing. He could only see his blood soaked shirt; he could only hear the distant thud of the bat. Relentlessly, James swung the bat over and over until-Crack! The bat snapped in two on Jordan's shoulder. Jordan's eyes snapped open at the sound. He craned his neck slowly towards James. He could tell that he too was exhausted.
The very moment he tried to move he felt excruciating pain for the first time. Jordan reached for the window and managed to get half of his body over. James did nothing. He figured Jordan was going to end up killing himself by doing that. He was too tired to care. Jordan managed to get himself over the other side and found himself falling for what seemed like ages when he finally fell two stories down with a Crash! He had landed on a wooden fence, sending splinters scattering all over the lawn. Wooden shards were lodged deeply into his back but he didn't care. He needed to get away. He crawled on until God-Knows-When until everything slowly faded black.
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