Food Therapy – Chapter 9

Months ago, emotionally wrecked at the emptiness of his soul, and grieved by the reminder of the loss of his mother, Cody had driven without a goal in mind, eventually finding himself pulled to the tiny, surprisingly well-kept restaurant, with its granny smith apple walls and aubergine porch, and a sign, large yet unintimidating, welcoming guests to the haven known as Martini. The doctor saw the place through his windshield, its sign calling out to him silently like a quiet siren song through the dark night.

Cody couldn't explain the phenomenon to himself. He had never liked the colors that adorned the restaurant; however he had felt himself being pulled towards it, like a northern pole towards its south. Cody's first visit to the restaurant was done on impulse, an intense hunger that had hit him upon setting his eyes on the place, which he attributed to a subconscious attempt on his mind's part to fill up his emotional void with physical nourishment.

Now, however, he had a new suspicion.

It wasn't just hunger he had felt.

It was telepathy.

The lasagna, reminiscent of the past, had been the final trigger to understanding. And now, he was remarkably close to proving himself correct.

Pushing aside all manners, he ignored the shouts from the manager behind him. Nearly tripping over his own feet as he accelerated rapidly, he quickly regained his balance, dashing towards the doors that he had eyed numerous times while waiting for his next meal. He felt no emotion as he ran, only relentless drive, his brain telling the muscles in his legs to push forward.

In his mind one word rang true, its accompanying punctuation mark symbolic of the seeming impossibility of the situation.

Zack?

Zack whistled to himself cheerfully as he cleaned up the remaining flour on his workbench. It had been a particularly satisfying night, with orders pouring in endless into the kitchen, keeping all the line cooks on edge and working at their maximum potential. There was a surge of adrenaline that flowed through the entire kitchen as the time ticked past, a feeling that energized Zack so much that he had vowed to try and make the united body of cooks replicate for future dinner services.

Suddenly, there was a sound of the kitchen doors being pushed open quickly. Due to the design of the kitchen which positioned the kitchen counter perpendicularly from the door, Zack was unable to see the person till he stepped in front of the counter. Zack frowned.

Another order?

Not bothering to look around from his cleaning up, Zack continued wiping his counter and shouted.

"Esteban? Is there another order? The restaurant's actually closed now, you don't have to receive everyone!"

There was no response.

"Esteban?"

Silence.

"Esteban, speak up!"

Brushing off the last bit of flour off his workbench, Zack threw the towel in the sink and turned the tap, setting the water running. Picking up a glass which he had he left in the sink, he started scrubbing it. He then looked around and saw himself.

The image didn't register properly in his head.

When did we get a mirror in here?

Squinting slightly and wondering if he were hallucinating, he noticed differences between himself and his supposed mirror image. Unlike him, the image was wearing a black jacket and black suit pants. Its hand was clutched firmly onto the kitchen counter for support. The expression on its face showcased a painter's palette of emotions, amongst them shock, disbelief, and grief.

His mind was desperately screaming out the answer to him; however he refused to believe it.

The image then spoke, its voice shaking.

"Zack?"

The sound of the familiar voice, received by his ears for the first time in years, hit him like a cannonball to the gut. His mouth fell open, his lower jaw hanging loosely from its hinge. The blood drained from his face, turning him as white as a sheet in a matter of seconds.

No…

The doppelgangers stared at each other, neither able to garner up enough strength to say another word.

No, no, no!

The cup in Zack's hand fell from his hand, shattering on the floor.

A sudden fear possessed the executive chef. Zack turned on his heel and, without thinking, dashed out of the kitchen, the tightening strings from his white chef's jacket trailing behind him in the wind.

Behind the kitchen counter, the late night customer stood gaping.

"ZACK!" Cody shouted as he jolted back into consciousness. The relentless drive, lost in the sea of emotion from a few seconds earlier, was back. Cody then felt the desperate need to reach his brother. His eyes darting rapidly from side to side to find a door past the counter into the kitchen. Cody found none in his haste.

What the fuck?

Far away, his brother was gaining distance.

Releasing a string of assorted swear words, Cody turned towards the opening he could see. Allowing a jolt of energy to burst through his muscles, Cody jumped onto the counter, nearly smashing his head open on the large panel of glass that served as a barrier separating the inner workings of the kitchen from the area where the waiters walked to pick up orders and deposit dirty plates. Spotting the small opening at the bottom of the glass meant for passing completed orders onto the counter, Cody knelt down and squeezed himself into the kitchen, head first, miraculously fitting through the small gap. At the last moment, however, he lost his balance and fell sideways, coating his jacket with a thin layer of excess flour that had been carelessly swept onto the floor.

Shaking his head clear of stars, Cody got back to his feet and ran towards where he had last seen Zack. He pushed open the back doors to the kitchen into the unfamiliar street.

It was pouring heavily.

His vision greatly impaired due to the falling rain, Cody found himself sprinting blindly through the dark night. There was no direction in his mind, only a single goal which he fixated on. The street that he had just run into was completely unfamiliar to him, having never even driven past the backstreet of the restaurant before. In a desperate attempt to seek out his twin, Cody dug deep into his mind to activate the innate ability that had been weakly flickering for the past few weeks whenever he had stepped into the restaurant.

The twin telepathy, which had rang so clearly just moments before, failed to track down its runaway recipient.

He continued running irregardless, ignoring his visual disability.

The water mixed with the flour coating his jacket, turning it into a semi-solid sludge that increased in weight as it collected more water. As he realized it was weighing him down, Cody grunted his frustration and tore the jacket off his shoulders, flinging the expensive piece of clothing onto the sidewalk. All thoughts were out of the window; only that one goal still existed.

He continued running, refusing to lose hope despite the increasingly towering odds.

"ZACK!" Cody shouted out into the night. He was greeted by the sound of the pelting rain on the street. Stepping into the large puddles forming on the ground, some rainwater found its way up his pants leg and into his shoes. Shuddering a little under the cold, Cody continued running forward. Slipping on a particularly perilous piece of cement, Cody fell for the second time that night. He picked himself up quickly and continued dashing aimlessly.

The adrenaline was running out.

Completely and utterly lost in the rain, Cody stopped in the middle of the street, utterly exhausted. His legs buckled under him, and he fell onto his knees. Looking up at the sky, the rain didn't show any sign of weakening, as though mocking his helpless plight. The clouds laughed at him in ridicule from the heavens above.

Warm tears found their way down his cheeks.

Zack…

Why the hell did he run?

Deep inside, he understood.

Cody gripped his head in his hands and cried into his palms, feeling very much like the vulnerable adolescent that he had once been many years before.

Silence.

Then, the sound of an engine.

Cody looked up to see a pair of bright headlights cutting through the rain and gradually growing larger, headed right towards him.

Zack breathed heavily as he rested against the wall of an alleyway, trying to catch his breath. Even with the pouring rain, Zack had navigated the backstreets of the restaurant many a time in the past and knew it nearly as well as the back of his hand, giving him a definite advantage in the game of cat and mouse.

As the adrenaline that coursed through his veins faded, the disbelief returned with full force.

Was that really…Cody?

Somehow Zack still couldn't believe it. But even if it were not a hallucination, if it were true…

Why the hell did I run?

The answer was obvious enough. A flashback nearly a decade into the past screened into his head, going against his promise to himself to never dig up and recall the past again.

Flashback

"Guilty."

The gavel fell with finality.

Zack bowed his head as he heard the sentence. He had expected it, and knew damn well that he deserved it. A small part of him screamed for a more severe sentence, something that will allow him to greater repent and be punished for his sin, but the judge didn't cave to his inaudible plea.

The sentence was set. Zack Martin would be sent to prison for a duration of three years, a lighter sentence than one would expect due to the fact that he was still a minor. Zack somehow knew that the time he would be spending behind bars would be nothing as compared to the guilt he would be holding forever in his heart.

What he had done was, to society and to himself, unforgivable.

Mistake or otherwise.

Zack's lawyer walked up to him and whispered something in his ear, something about an appeal. Zack hardly heard him, nodding absentmindedly, willing for him to go away so he could continue wallowing in self-loathing. The lawyer walked away, and a pair of burly guards walked forward. One of them withdrew a pair of handcuffs, snapping them around Zack's wrists and placing his hand under his armpit, prompting him to stand. Zack didn't resist.

The audience to the trial glared at him, speaking in loud whispers and commenting on his sin.

Sin.

Zack swallowed hard.

They walked towards the doors of the courtroom. A police van was already parked outside, waiting to bring the next juvenile delinquent to the facility. The driver, dressed in uniform, was waiting at the wheel. The two guards gently prodded him forward. They continued walking. Zack looked down at the ceramic tiles that were laid down neatly on the ground, not wanting to look up to face the world.

"Sir?"

One of the guards had spoken. Abruptly, the two guards stopped walking, surprising Zack and nearly causing him to fall over. He looked up and realized that the guard was not speaking to him, and was instead looking directly in front.

Zack looked in the direction of the guard's eyes.

In front stood a familiar blond haired boy. His hair fell over his eyes, his expression unreadable at first glance.

Zack gulped. The other hurdle to face.

"Cody?"

Cody didn't respond. Instead, he continued looking down. His fringe continued fluttering in the wind, blocking his eyes from view. His jaw was obviously clenched, whether due to rage or otherwise, Zack couldn't tell. His hands were shaking, having been clenched into tight fists.

There was a painful silence as Zack waited for his brother to respond.

Cody tilted his head upwards. His hair fell to the side revealing his bloodshot eyes, tired from crying.

There were no longer any more tears. All the eyes seemed to desire now was blood.

He then spoke in a voice, low and threatening, that Zack had never before coming from those lips. A chill that followed cut through the air like a scythe.

"You killed her."

Without warning, Cody threw a fist outwards, catching Zack by the side of his jaw. Zack grimaced as his jawbone shattered and his brother's fist drew blood, the kinetic energy transferred from Cody's arm nearly causing him to topple over on his side if the guard had not held him in place. Cody continued flailing his arms, blinded by rage, dying to bring more pain to his twin.

Zack's bleeding mouth was nothing compared to the pain he felt when looking at his enraged twin's eyes.

The moment Cody had struck Zack, one guard stepped in front of Zack protectively, while the other attempted to restrain the boy in front of him.

"Sir, please! Calm down!"

There was no way Cody could calm down. Not after what he did.

Zack sat down onto the ground and looked sorrowfully at his wrathful brother. There was no way he'd ever receive forgiveness now. A lone tear made its way down his cheek. He didn't bother to wipe it away.

The guard eventually resorted to pinning Cody down to the ground, arms trapped behind his back. It was the only feasible way to stop the boy from attacking their young charge. Looking at the guard directly protecting Zack, he nodded. The guard turned around, picked Zack up from the ground, and started marching him towards the waiting police vehicle.

Zack turned around ruefully. He only had one more chance to make this right. Looking into his struggling brother's eyes, he mumbled the final two words he would ever speak to his brother for the next decade.

"I'm sorry."

Cody glared back in hatred, before spitting out his reply, his tone dripping with venom.

"Save it. You're not my brother anymore."

Zack's heart fell.

After realizing Zack was safely in the vehicle, the guard released his hold on Cody and walked towards the van.

The police van drove away.

Standing slowly, Cody defiantly looked away from the van as it drove away into the night, hot, angry tears coming to his eyes as he recalled the Boston Herald's small article on the incident from a few days back.

"Boston Herald – 14th June 2006

Carey Martin, headliner of the Boston Tipton Hotel, was killed after being hit by a speeding car. The car was, according to witnesses present at the scene of the hit-and-run, a blue sedan. If there are other witnesses who have observed the accident and have information, kindly contact the Boston Police Department at 617-343-4633."

End Flashback

The rain showed no sign of ceasing, and it had been a while since his brother had started chasing him. Zack contemplated walking back to the restaurant and pretending the incident from earlier had never happened.

He knew, however, that it was not possible.

Cody clearly knew that he was the executive chef of Martini now, and therefore he would definitely know where to find him if need be. For a moment, he contemplated leaving the restaurant and doing another disappearing act, perhaps setting up a new restaurant far away from Boston. Something told him it was probably a stupid idea.

What was a man to do in a situation like this?

Zack kicked the wall in frustration. What he needed now was to drown his sorrows in a good glass of strong alcohol, or maybe a bottle. Standing up, he tried to block out the sad images of the returned memory and started walking back towards the restaurant.

The moment he stepped out from the alley, he saw a figure, barely distinguishable in the relentless downpour, crouching down in the middle of the street.

It didn't take a genius to realize that that person was his brother.

Just when he was ready to leap back into the alley to hide, he realized that his brother was gripping his face in his hands, as though he was…crying?

Rage was what Zack had expected, not sadness.

Before he could properly contemplate his next decision, he heard the rapidly increasing amplitude of an engine, followed by a pair of bright headlights cutting through the rain and gradually growing larger, headed right towards his brother.

Author's Note – Another chapter done! I honestly have no idea how well this worked out, but big plot revelation in this chapter which I'm relatively happy with, plus a life-in-danger cliffhanger. I understand it was pretty short as compared to the rest, but there was only so much I could push in. The flashback was clearly the plot highlight. Next chapter coming up soon.

Reviews greatly appreciated.

~SUITELIFEFAN