Bang!
Michael slowly opened his eyes. His head throbbed with a dull but persistent pain. He shivered and tugged the blanket up to his chin. Michael had spent half a car ride and three vacation days stricken with the flu. He had fallen into a deep and sluggish sleep the other night, around the same time his sister Sarah began running a fever. Like most eleven year-old boys, he would rather much be outside playing baseball or cooling off in the lake, but for now he was confined to his bedroom. At least until he was over the sickness.
He hacked dryly. For a moment he thought about calling out for his sister to bring him a glass of water, but decided not to get on her bad side. Plus, she would probalby still be asleep. Michael glanced at the clock. Nine-thirty. Yep. Sarah wouldn't be up for another two hours or so. Shit. Oh well. I'll just get it myself.
Michael found himself wondering what that 'bang' had been.
He slipped into a fresh sweater, still battling a terrible fever, and shuffled into the hallway. That's when he heard two distinct and unfamiliar voices from downstairs. He thought about calling for his sister, but stopped himself. What if someone's robbing us? What if they have guns? Holy fucking shit. What am I gonna do?
Crouching low, he peeked from behind the wooden railing of the stairs, and caught a brief glimpse of two young men in preppy sportswear. "Oh my God," Michael whispered to himself. He began to tremble when he heard his sister blubbering from downstairs, and nearly cried out when he saw her propped up in their father's recliner, arms and legs bound with Duct tape.
Sarah! Run! Get help!
Michael returned to his room, tears welling up in his eyes. What was he going to do? He glanced at his window. I . . . I could climb out and get in the boat. And . . . and then I could go find Uncle Jim. He'll have a phone, and we can call the cops. Yeah. It'll work.
He slowly tiptoed over to the window, fearing the floorboards would creak and alert the intruders. His plan was easier said then done, as he soon re-discovered his long-forgotten fear of heights. It was only a thirteen foot drop, but to Michael it seemed like a hundred. His mind flashed back to the intruders, and his sister's tear-streaked face. Grow some balls, he told himself, heart thudding in his chest.
Wait. What good are you if you break your ankle trying to jump out the window? Seriously, are you that stupid? Just tie a bed-sheet around your waist, and tie the other end to a bed post. It works all the time.
Easy. Now he just had to scale his way down the side of the house. That shouldn't be too hard. Right?
His entire body trembled as he crawled out the window. He gripped the windowsil, hanging on with all his strength, not wanting to let go. He feared the sheet would tear and he would then plumet to the earth and break his neck.
Michael gulped. Grow some balls.
He slowly began to lower himself. Questions raced through his mind. Who were the intruders that had broken into his home? What did they want? What had they done to his sister? And what were they going to do to him if they caught him?
He shivered at the thought.
Suddenly from inside his room: a familiar and dreaded rip.
Michael's sheet tore and he fell seven feet, landing on his back. "Oof!"
His body exploded in fresh pain, and his teeth rattled inside his skull.
He rolled onto his stomach, and struggled to his feet, his mind spinning wildly. Got to get help.
He broke into a run and headed for the dock. And he probably would have made it if Paul hadn't seen him through the window.
"Hey!"
Michael froze, cocked his head to the side, and discovered a young man jogging towards him. He recognized the man's clothes. He was one of the intruders.
RUN DIPSHIT. RUN.
"Don't go Mikey. We're gonna let you and your sister play this really fun game!"
Michael lost his footing, and crashed to the ground in a heap. He was caught.