A Fine Cast of Characters - J. Dane Tyler [10]
Aaron shook his head, tossed his blond strands on the stale air. “Whatever. I’m just trying to look out for you.”
“Thanks, Mom, but I’m fine.”
Danny’s pale, sun-deprived skin revealed blue veins beneath the papery surface. Reflections from the metallic studs on leather bands glinted. Bangles and bracelets jangled with every mouse motion, and each button click and keyboard entry sounded with the prattle of rings on every black nail polished finger.
“At least hurry up,” Aaron whined. “What’s taking so long?”
“I said shut up,” Danny growled. “This assignment’s, like, a third of the grade, dumb ass. It has to be the right story, a really good one. I can’t just grab anything. I want to get a great one.”
“It’s on the Internet, Danny,” Aaron said. “Jeezuz, man, don’t you think Marlin’s gonna find out?”
“Find out? How? These aren’t from fiction sites, ass-wipe, they’re from blogs. Who reads blogs anymore? Now chillax. This one’s really good.”
Aaron sighed in worried exasperation and stood up, the rasp of his worn black jeans and faded black shirt seeming loud in the still, musty room. Danny ignored him, tossed the hank of black mossy hair out of his eye and continued reading. He nodded as a grin snaked over his lips.
“Oh yeah … yeah, this one’s good. This is it.”
Aaron closed the distance from the full-length mirror on the back of the door to the computer desk in two nerve-powered strides. “Fine, get off the site now.”
Danny scowled up at him. “Will you fucking relax? It’s not like someone’s monitoring the—”
“Aw, shit man, this one’s copyrighted or whatever! You can’t use this one!”
“Screw that, it’s just some stupid ass’s little thing he puts on the bottom of all his posts, it doesn’t mean squat.”
“Dude, it’s patented or something! You can’t use it!”
“It’s nothing! I said forget it! It’s my homework anyway, so shut up already.”
Aaron threw his hands up. “You’re goin’ to jail, dickhead.”
“Up yours.” Danny clicked and moved the mouse over the text on the screen, highlighted all of it and clicked the right mouse button. He chose Copy from the context menu, then opened a new document on his local drive. Another right click; he selected Paste. “There. Now I just change a couple words here and there and I’m done. A two-week assignment finished in twenty minutes of reading.” He saved the document with no name.
“You’re gonna get in trouble for this if you keep it up.”
“God, you’re a pussy, Aaron.”
* * * * *
Danny walked into the house and felt the silence like a chill breeze.
“Mom?” His voice echoed through the house. “Mom, I’m home.”
No reply.
Danny listened for a moment, then strode to the stairs. “Mom? You home?”
No answer again. Normally his mother would leave him a note when she went out and wouldn’t be home when he arrived. It was unusual when she didn’t. He felt his pulse quicken despite himself.
He shook his head and bounded up the stairs to his room. With a quick, mindless motion he stepped in and shut the door behind him. He looked up and his breath caught in his throat.
A black-clad figure leaned on the corner of his computer desk. The monitor showed both the original blog from which he’d stolen his major creative writing assignment and the document he’d pasted it to. The figure, a tall, lean silhouette in a black ski mask and turtleneck, hooked a gloved thumb to the monitor.
“You’re a thief.” The voice was smooth and baritone.
“I—hey, how do you know I didn’t write it first? Maybe that guy stole it. Who are you anyway? How’d you get in here? Where’s my mother?” Danny’s voice sounded thin and weak. He knees felt the same way.
The figure thrust its masked chin toward the corner of the room beyond the door.
Danny turned. The scream ripped his vocal cords to shreds and his bladder let go.
His mother slumped in the corner, eyes bulging and shot through with burst blood vessels. Her blue-black tongue protruded from purple lips, her skin a sick gray pallor. A thin strand of plastic coated metal rope left