The Story of Max Cale, Chapter 17
by pari106
[Disclaimer, etc. , found in chapter one.]
A/N: Thanks for the nice feedback (to those of you have sent feedback :) Keep it
coming!
"Hey?"
Zack wrapped his knuckles against the bathroom door for the fifth time in about ten
minutes. This time he didn't return to his seat afterwards, as he had done twice before.
Zack was not a patient man…and his impatience had just reached its peak.
"Listen, if you don't answer me *right now*, I'm kicking this door down!" Zack
threatened, his voice rising despite the stares he earned doing so. He'd been playing the
concerned boyfriend role, but their fellow diners had stopped buying that act long ago.
Which was just as well… Zack hated role-playing.
"Okay…I'm coming in!" he called out.
"Hey, you can't do that!" someone yelled from behind him. But Zack ignored the
someone just as he'd ignored the "Sir, is everything alright?"s that had been thrown at his
way before.
With one kick, the bathroom door came down as gasps and general distress echoed
around the nearly silent diner.
Zack didn't find an unconscious woman lying on the floor. He'd considered the
possibility that he would…taking into account the way Max had looked when she'd gone
in.
He'd considered the possibility for all of ten seconds.
Now his doubts were confirmed. The bathroom was empty.
'Shit…shitshitshit…' Zack cussed himself in his mind, then looked up…to where a large
air vent in the ceiling was slightly askew.
"Shit!" he cursed aloud then. He punched the wall, causing the plaster to crumble
beneath his fist. The waitress and cook that had been behind him, trying to figure out
what the hell was going on, jumped back. Obviously deciding they'd rather not know.
Which was just as well…since Zack figured he'd caused a big enough scene already for
one day. And he'd have an even bigger one on his hands if he didn't catch Max before
she gave his description to the local authorities.
Zack raced out the diner's door.
**** ****
'His name…couldn't you find anything else to talk about besides asking the guy his
name?' Max was still berating herself silently, curled into a fetal position within an air
duct just over the diner's kitchen.
She was trying to escape a dangerous kidnapper, and she'd been trying to play twenty
questions with the guy?
'Way to go, Max,' she thought.
In her own defense, Max assured herself that she'd only asked so that she'd have a name
to go along with his description. The description she planned to pass on to Logan once
this whole fiasco was finished. But to be honest, Max knew that had only been half her
reasoning. The other half had been plain and simple curiosity about the man she was
running from. She didn't like to admit it, but she actually felt disappointed that she
hadn't gotten to know him better before it came time to make a break. There was
something mysterious about him, obviously, but something familiar at the same time.
Something she couldn't guess at defining.
Just as she couldn't guess whether he would run to check the perimeter when he realized
she was missing…or crawl up into the air duct with her. That was a problem. Because if
he came up here and found her, what would she do then?
'At least it's nice and cozy up here,' Max thought.
The air ducts were large and relatively antique. The air conditioning in the diner had
apparently broken down a long time ago, and the owner hadn't seen fit to fix it.
Therefore the diner didn't have any AC or heating…which would be why all the doors
and windows down in the main area were open. And which was why Max wasn't too
cramped, too hot, or too cold. She was, however, about to choke on the thick dust filling
the ducts.
'And don't you have anything better to think about, right now, than the structural
condition of this dump?'
But Max had to think about something. Something to take her mind off the splitting pain
in her temples. It had struck about the same time as the last seizure, which had taken
over just as she'd pulled herself up through that air vent over the restroom. She'd barely
gotten the vent back in place before the shaking had become too strong to control. Then
Max had pulled herself as far through the ducts as she could manage and had curled up to
ride the seizure out.
On second thought, maybe running now hadn't been the wisest decision Max had ever
made.
She was hardly at her best. And she had a feeling that that was what it'd take to get away
from the guy who'd grabbed her. And if her seizures got worse, before she got home,
Max wasn't certain she'd be any safer around harmless strangers than she'd be around
her kidnapper. No doctor would understand that her condition needed Triptophan for
treatment. And even if they did, it wasn't like you could just pick the stuff up at the
nearest Circle K.
'At least Mr. Tall, Dark, and Deadly would know where to send the body if things got
really bad,' Max thought wryly. Assuming he'd do her the service of sending her body
home.
Assuming the need for someone to do so would arise.
"Not yet," Max mumbled aloud. She was only twenty years old. She guessed. And she
planned to be around long enough to tease Logan about his hair going gray and to spoil
his children.
'You just gotta get down that vent, find a phone…call Logan or Bling…'
Logan was gonna kill her for pulling this stunt. Hopefully. Because otherwise it would
mean that Zack had taken care of the job first. Literally.
Max had heard a lot of commotion down below, earlier, but occupied with her seizure,
she hadn't been able to concentrate on what was happening. She was certain that,
whatever had gone down, it had to have had something to do with a none-too-happy Mr.
T, D, and D (having chosen that nickname for her mystery man, Max stuck to it). But
now things were relatively quiet in the diner. Did that mean her kidnapper was gone?
That he'd assumed she'd already left the diner and was looking for her elsewhere?
'It'd better. You can't stay in this stupid hole forever.'
Max carefully pulled herself up on her elbows over the vent. Peering down, she didn't
see anyone beneath and, with still shaking hands, she pushed at the vent, assuming that it
would take some effort to dislodge.
Too bad she'd underestimated her own strength, even weakened by her seizure.
Too bad said seizure had effected her reflexes as well, so that Max hadn't been able to
catch herself when the vent, which she was lying almost entirely on top of, went crashing
down.
Too bad Max came crashing down with it, right on top of a large pot of clam chowder.
Max *hated* clam chowder.
Various persons from the diner rushed into the kitchen to see what was happening, and
Max stood, with a sigh. Great. 'So my day's improving,' Max thought sarcastically.
Then she stripped out of her now half black and half white sweater, audience or no
audience. She was wearing a black tank top underneath anyhow.
And she *really* hated clam chowder.
**** ****
He knew it. He fucking knew it.
"I fucking knew it," Zack mumbled under his breath as he came out the diner's door. His
eyes took in his surroundings faster and with more perception than the average human
eye was capable of. He looked like a predator hunting its prey. And in a way…he
supposed he was.
Buy how far could a little human rich girl have gotten in…say, fifteen minutes?
Plenty far. Just the same way a little human rich girl could get out of a windowless
bathroom. Zack had known he should have down a better check of that restroom. But
he'd underestimated his charge. Plain and simple, he'd taken it for granted that the posh
Foggle Towers set weren't the type to play escape and evade.
And he'd allowed himself to become preoccupied. To take Max's suddenly docile
behavior for granted. Because he was so turned around by her that he couldn't think
straight. Something about Max had been itching at the back of Zack's brain ever since
he'd realized that she wasn't Syl. And in the diner it had only gotten worse.
// "What's your name…You know? Your name. Your designation…" //
Zack had made a tactical error, is what he'd done. Now for the second time. The third, if
you counted how Max had escaped those ropes he'd tied her with. Zack still couldn't
explain that one.
And he was not happy with himself. As much as he lectured the others on always staying
alert… On not making stupid mistakes… If word of this got out to the other X5s, there
would be no end to Zack's suffering.
He might even have to kill someone.
Probably Zane or Krit or Oz; the ones who enjoyed ribbing Zack the most. And Zack
would hate to have to eliminate any of them. After all the trouble he'd gone through,
keeping their sorry asses safe and sound… Or reasonably sound. Zack was convinced
that at least two of them were as nutty as a couple of fruitcakes. Whatever that was.
"Shit!" he cursed himself, for not the first time.
It was becoming a sort of mantra almost. Zack was really losing it.
Which made his gaze all that much sharper as he calculated the odds of each direction
Max could have run. It made Zack look all the more forbidding as he did so. A dark
cloud of doom seemed to have settled above him.
But the sun began to break through when Zack heard voices, through the open window,
from the kitchen inside the diner. He just happened to have come around the front of the
diner again, just in time to hear a loud crash followed by the voices.
"Miss, are you alright?" they said.
Maybe Zack wouldn't have to kill anyone after all.
Maybe.
by pari106
[Disclaimer, etc. , found in chapter one.]
A/N: Thanks for the nice feedback (to those of you have sent feedback :) Keep it
coming!
"Hey?"
Zack wrapped his knuckles against the bathroom door for the fifth time in about ten
minutes. This time he didn't return to his seat afterwards, as he had done twice before.
Zack was not a patient man…and his impatience had just reached its peak.
"Listen, if you don't answer me *right now*, I'm kicking this door down!" Zack
threatened, his voice rising despite the stares he earned doing so. He'd been playing the
concerned boyfriend role, but their fellow diners had stopped buying that act long ago.
Which was just as well… Zack hated role-playing.
"Okay…I'm coming in!" he called out.
"Hey, you can't do that!" someone yelled from behind him. But Zack ignored the
someone just as he'd ignored the "Sir, is everything alright?"s that had been thrown at his
way before.
With one kick, the bathroom door came down as gasps and general distress echoed
around the nearly silent diner.
Zack didn't find an unconscious woman lying on the floor. He'd considered the
possibility that he would…taking into account the way Max had looked when she'd gone
in.
He'd considered the possibility for all of ten seconds.
Now his doubts were confirmed. The bathroom was empty.
'Shit…shitshitshit…' Zack cussed himself in his mind, then looked up…to where a large
air vent in the ceiling was slightly askew.
"Shit!" he cursed aloud then. He punched the wall, causing the plaster to crumble
beneath his fist. The waitress and cook that had been behind him, trying to figure out
what the hell was going on, jumped back. Obviously deciding they'd rather not know.
Which was just as well…since Zack figured he'd caused a big enough scene already for
one day. And he'd have an even bigger one on his hands if he didn't catch Max before
she gave his description to the local authorities.
Zack raced out the diner's door.
**** ****
'His name…couldn't you find anything else to talk about besides asking the guy his
name?' Max was still berating herself silently, curled into a fetal position within an air
duct just over the diner's kitchen.
She was trying to escape a dangerous kidnapper, and she'd been trying to play twenty
questions with the guy?
'Way to go, Max,' she thought.
In her own defense, Max assured herself that she'd only asked so that she'd have a name
to go along with his description. The description she planned to pass on to Logan once
this whole fiasco was finished. But to be honest, Max knew that had only been half her
reasoning. The other half had been plain and simple curiosity about the man she was
running from. She didn't like to admit it, but she actually felt disappointed that she
hadn't gotten to know him better before it came time to make a break. There was
something mysterious about him, obviously, but something familiar at the same time.
Something she couldn't guess at defining.
Just as she couldn't guess whether he would run to check the perimeter when he realized
she was missing…or crawl up into the air duct with her. That was a problem. Because if
he came up here and found her, what would she do then?
'At least it's nice and cozy up here,' Max thought.
The air ducts were large and relatively antique. The air conditioning in the diner had
apparently broken down a long time ago, and the owner hadn't seen fit to fix it.
Therefore the diner didn't have any AC or heating…which would be why all the doors
and windows down in the main area were open. And which was why Max wasn't too
cramped, too hot, or too cold. She was, however, about to choke on the thick dust filling
the ducts.
'And don't you have anything better to think about, right now, than the structural
condition of this dump?'
But Max had to think about something. Something to take her mind off the splitting pain
in her temples. It had struck about the same time as the last seizure, which had taken
over just as she'd pulled herself up through that air vent over the restroom. She'd barely
gotten the vent back in place before the shaking had become too strong to control. Then
Max had pulled herself as far through the ducts as she could manage and had curled up to
ride the seizure out.
On second thought, maybe running now hadn't been the wisest decision Max had ever
made.
She was hardly at her best. And she had a feeling that that was what it'd take to get away
from the guy who'd grabbed her. And if her seizures got worse, before she got home,
Max wasn't certain she'd be any safer around harmless strangers than she'd be around
her kidnapper. No doctor would understand that her condition needed Triptophan for
treatment. And even if they did, it wasn't like you could just pick the stuff up at the
nearest Circle K.
'At least Mr. Tall, Dark, and Deadly would know where to send the body if things got
really bad,' Max thought wryly. Assuming he'd do her the service of sending her body
home.
Assuming the need for someone to do so would arise.
"Not yet," Max mumbled aloud. She was only twenty years old. She guessed. And she
planned to be around long enough to tease Logan about his hair going gray and to spoil
his children.
'You just gotta get down that vent, find a phone…call Logan or Bling…'
Logan was gonna kill her for pulling this stunt. Hopefully. Because otherwise it would
mean that Zack had taken care of the job first. Literally.
Max had heard a lot of commotion down below, earlier, but occupied with her seizure,
she hadn't been able to concentrate on what was happening. She was certain that,
whatever had gone down, it had to have had something to do with a none-too-happy Mr.
T, D, and D (having chosen that nickname for her mystery man, Max stuck to it). But
now things were relatively quiet in the diner. Did that mean her kidnapper was gone?
That he'd assumed she'd already left the diner and was looking for her elsewhere?
'It'd better. You can't stay in this stupid hole forever.'
Max carefully pulled herself up on her elbows over the vent. Peering down, she didn't
see anyone beneath and, with still shaking hands, she pushed at the vent, assuming that it
would take some effort to dislodge.
Too bad she'd underestimated her own strength, even weakened by her seizure.
Too bad said seizure had effected her reflexes as well, so that Max hadn't been able to
catch herself when the vent, which she was lying almost entirely on top of, went crashing
down.
Too bad Max came crashing down with it, right on top of a large pot of clam chowder.
Max *hated* clam chowder.
Various persons from the diner rushed into the kitchen to see what was happening, and
Max stood, with a sigh. Great. 'So my day's improving,' Max thought sarcastically.
Then she stripped out of her now half black and half white sweater, audience or no
audience. She was wearing a black tank top underneath anyhow.
And she *really* hated clam chowder.
**** ****
He knew it. He fucking knew it.
"I fucking knew it," Zack mumbled under his breath as he came out the diner's door. His
eyes took in his surroundings faster and with more perception than the average human
eye was capable of. He looked like a predator hunting its prey. And in a way…he
supposed he was.
Buy how far could a little human rich girl have gotten in…say, fifteen minutes?
Plenty far. Just the same way a little human rich girl could get out of a windowless
bathroom. Zack had known he should have down a better check of that restroom. But
he'd underestimated his charge. Plain and simple, he'd taken it for granted that the posh
Foggle Towers set weren't the type to play escape and evade.
And he'd allowed himself to become preoccupied. To take Max's suddenly docile
behavior for granted. Because he was so turned around by her that he couldn't think
straight. Something about Max had been itching at the back of Zack's brain ever since
he'd realized that she wasn't Syl. And in the diner it had only gotten worse.
// "What's your name…You know? Your name. Your designation…" //
Zack had made a tactical error, is what he'd done. Now for the second time. The third, if
you counted how Max had escaped those ropes he'd tied her with. Zack still couldn't
explain that one.
And he was not happy with himself. As much as he lectured the others on always staying
alert… On not making stupid mistakes… If word of this got out to the other X5s, there
would be no end to Zack's suffering.
He might even have to kill someone.
Probably Zane or Krit or Oz; the ones who enjoyed ribbing Zack the most. And Zack
would hate to have to eliminate any of them. After all the trouble he'd gone through,
keeping their sorry asses safe and sound… Or reasonably sound. Zack was convinced
that at least two of them were as nutty as a couple of fruitcakes. Whatever that was.
"Shit!" he cursed himself, for not the first time.
It was becoming a sort of mantra almost. Zack was really losing it.
Which made his gaze all that much sharper as he calculated the odds of each direction
Max could have run. It made Zack look all the more forbidding as he did so. A dark
cloud of doom seemed to have settled above him.
But the sun began to break through when Zack heard voices, through the open window,
from the kitchen inside the diner. He just happened to have come around the front of the
diner again, just in time to hear a loud crash followed by the voices.
"Miss, are you alright?" they said.
Maybe Zack wouldn't have to kill anyone after all.
Maybe.