Poptart Notes: Going to be on Spring Break soon, so no updates for a while. We're heading towards a darker end in the story, just to warn you…
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Chapter 5: Stains and Other
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Albert rattled with his brother's doorknob. The universe, on this day, had made up its mind that he would not be permitted to get any sort of door to operate properly, as it did not budge. He grunted in frustration, resting his arm against the door and then his forehead on that. He couldn't just shove the door down again. He wasn't particularly in the mood for that, and Irving had been shut-in most of the day. The very least Albert could do was try to care.
Albert sighed and, with a bit of annoyance, knocked lightly on his brother's door.
"Irving?" He called. "Open up, will ya?"
As if in reply, the door swung open unceremoniously. To Albert's surprise, Irving glared right up at him in an irritated, almost defiant way. His shirt was orange.
"What?" He spat out gruffly. Albert raised his hands in innocence.
"Well, good morning to you!" He exclaimed. He led himself in and flopped down into the chair next to the computer. Irving's glare didn't falter once during that, but it didn't even seem to be directed towards his sibling. "So," Albert asked casually, "Have you seen that fruit-type character downstairs yet?"
"Don't talk about him!" Irving groaned almost instantly. "I'm sick of that dweeb's face already."
"Again, good morning to you." Here, Albert finally noticed the little heap of blue shirt on the floor. "Why the sudden wardrobe change?"
Irving snatched up the shirt from the floor. "I…uh…I got a food stain on it."
"Really?" Albert asked, one brow raised. Irving shrunk back a bit.
"Yes?"
"Alright then." Albert shrugged and left the room, leaving his brother alone for the rest of the evening.
Irving sighed and unfolded his previous shirt, trying to force himself to look again at the large splash of mahogany across the back and left shoulder. Everything at level with his chest and above was burning terribly, and he felt very stiff in the spine. Shrugging and shaking his head, he went to the bathroom to see if he could try and wash the visible blood out in the sink. All the while, he was silently thanking God that his brother was such a gullible idiot.
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Albert still had one thing to be proud of; and that was that he was the biggest library nerd in Danville. Today, he was particularly glad to be out of the house, as "Archie" had returned, with the intent to do "business" with his mother (which Albert was half-certain they didn't even want him to be nearby for). Currently, he was hunched over in a single corner, on the banks of the Hanson Kingdom and waiting to strike with his captain. Over the pages of the book, he could see outside the window that took up most of the left wall—it was already nine fifty-six, and Albert swore that he was the only person who the janitor had ever tossed the keys to and told "lock up when you're done". Yet, even with as dark as it was at that time of night, Albert could still make out a tall, slim figure outside the building. He seemed to pull out a watch from his pocket, examine it, and then tuck it back into his coat before reaching into one of the pockets of his trousers. Albert could see, vaguely, that it seemed to be two objects—a sort of a cellular and something else. He watched as the man talked into the phone, able to hear his muffled speech, while he saw him mess around with the second object. It was rectangular, and had a long, thin rod pointing up out of the end of it. After a few more moments of indiscernible speaking, the man outside put his phone away and extended the device toward the window.
With a faint twinge of horror, Albert felt that the man was staring right at him.
The next thing he knew, there was a small clicking from the switch on the object being pressed down. Then, the world around him was an expanse of vicious burning flame, which seized up the room in a deafening, crackling roar, with deplorable heat pressing in on all sides.
Albert had been caught in the first torching of the night.