1
Zack ran into the room and locked the door. He dug out a pair of keys and opened another forbidden closet. It held pistol and revolver, Dad's private collection. And Dad was a felon so he couldn't have it on him so Carrie let him store them here. He took a out a large .45 and ejected the drum. It had three bullets. Zack tucked it into his jeans and began to pack. He stuffed in a couple of booze bottles, all the pills from the medication cabinet, and his razor, plus some cloths.
He changed his cloths into old-Zack cloths; baggy, dark blue jeans, a long sleeve shirt with sarcastic remarks on it, a stocking cap, and a pair of Classic Etnies. He put a pair of Arnold sunglasses and calmly walked into an elevator. As the doors closed, he saw Mr. Moseby jog into the empty suite, a worried look on his face. Zack snorted to himself, and since the elevator was empty, he spoke.
"Motha-fucken ass wipe doesn't give a shit if I was on drugs, so long as I was out of his hotel."
The doors opened and Zack walked calmly into London's Mustang.
2
London had trusted Zack with a pair of keys to everything in the hotel after the first kissy-kissy incident.
He turned on Elm and went up 4201. Nobody answered, but the door was unlocked. Zack parked two blocks away and went inside the garage. He found a large, metal tube and he filled hit with gunpowder soaked with lighter fluid. He popped a cigarette into his mouth when he finish unhooking all the gas in the house and heavily pouring gas into Maddie upstairs room.
Zack was in the window. He light the smoke and tossed the match into the room. He jumped.
A large lick of flame pressed its tongue against Zack's back, but he didn't catch fire. He jogged the two blocks to London's car and began to drive up the highway. He turned too soon. He needed some help.
3
It was night time when Zack pulled up to Ball Camp. He quickly ducked down and ran low to the girls cabin. The window was open and there was light pouring out. He jumped into the cabin.
"A boy!"
"Zack!"
Zack looked up slowly and swallowed. There were at least thirteen girls here, all ranging from ages fourteen to sixteen.
Everyone looked at Max.
"You know that guy?"
"Yeah, from my hometown."
"Max…can I talk to you…alone?"
"Sure…"
There was a giggling. Someone whispered 'So lucky.'
They walked into the cool night and stood in front the Mustang. Max knew something was wrong with her friend.
"Zack-what's wrong."
Zack slowly lift the sleeves of his shirt. Max gasped and looked at them in the cars headlight. Her finger's traced the scars, giving Zack a tickling sensation.
"I know…I know that we all promised not to…be fuck-ups…but I fucked up big time."
Zack slowly and painstakingly told her about the entire ordeal. When he finished, Max was facing the other way.
Shit, he thought. I'm such a fuck-up that she doesn't even want to look at me.
But, the clouds moved out of the way from the moon and he saw that there were two tiny steams running down her face.
"Max? Are you okay?"
She turned on him and grabbed his shoulders, pushing her face into his chest. He thought it was an attack at first, but came to realize that he was some sort of comfort for here. And he was the one that screwed up.
"Max…I'm sorry. So sorry."
"It's okay," she said, wiping her tears from her eyes and trying to regain her composer. "I just never thought…you'd be something mother-fucken stupid."
Zack smiled and leaned to her face. His lips gently pressed against her cheek for a moment, then he withdrew.
"I've gotta talk to the others," he said.
4
Zack filled in with the others that he was on rode trip. He didn't tell them of the arson or the other plan. They'd protest, get in the way.
"Just this morning, a beautiful house was burned to the ground. The house belonged to a family tied into the Tipton, the most swankiest hotel in Boston. Fire chief say's it was an arson, account of two empty gas tanks that were reported full before the fire. Maddie F. will now talk to you."
Zack turned his head slowly to the TV.
"Who do you think did this to your house."
"Zackary Martin."
Zack sprinted out the door that very second. Two big twenty year old got in the way. Zack took the revolver out. "Don't make me shoot you."
They slowly got out of the way. Zack bolted to the Mustang and revved up the engine. Before he left, he heard Bob saying, "What revolver? Zack was never here."
He smiled. Bob was dyslexic, but he could persuade with a capital Y.
5
Zack paused outside the cabin of Knock-a-Number. Even now, the name sounded weird. But in a totally different way. I mean, Knock-a-Number? Knock-Up-a-Number.
Zack pressed a lighter fluid and gun powder mix into the twenty-ounce bottle in his hand. He poured some vegetable oil on top with gasoline, then stuffed a sock into the opening. He stood outside for a moment, pondering on where he would take out.
He shivered and lit the sock. It began to burn quickly. Zack chucked it into the woods, where the dry leaves and trees quickly caught. Zack drove away.
As he drove away, he thought of what he had done. Two accounts of arson. Bon could get him out of the threat thing. But who could get him out of the drug and wrist thing?
6
Zack dialed a few numbers on the pay-phone and listened to the ring.
"Hello, Drug and Suicide Hotline."
"Yeah, I wanna report a drug user that could be picked up on Pine and 25th."
"Name, age, and gender please."
Zack swallowed and came to a quick decision.
"Zackary Martin, 16, Male. And please come quick before he gets away."
Epilogue
Yes, this is the end of the story. Very short, you might say.
Zack was picked up and went into a rehab where they counseled him into sanity and made him clean. Mr. Moseby, Carrie, Arwin, Estabon, and London made a pot for bail on Zack's two counts of arson. Maddie quit her job and get employed as a maid.
Upon arriving back from rehab two years later, London paid for ten years expenses of a suite for Zack. Zack began to date Max, but broke up quickly afterwards.
A/N: That's the story, guys. My second story that I ever finished, though it's kinda short. I just wanna thank all of you who reviewed, even if you flamed me. You helped me mold my fic into perfection. Thanks. I don't know why I had Maddie quite her job, but it was better than my other idea of her killing herself by pulling the shotgun trigger with her toe. Over and out, my homies.
-Fball
March 30, 2006 6:25 pm, Central Time