Summary: It's 2009, and the twins can drive! But when Zack is driving Cody home and they get into a major car crash, only one of the twins survives. Who will live? What will they're mother say? And who will be the one…seeing ghosts?
Chapter 1: Dad?
---Zack's POV---
"I'm bored," I said, flicking the channels of the TV, "there's nothing on at 8:55 AM." My mom walked over and turned off the TV. "Here's an idea," she said, "Why don't you go to school. You're late, you know." I looked at the clock in the kitchen. "I'm not late. I have the first two periods off remember?" She then looked at the clock, "Well, doesn't third period start at 9:15?" I nodded. "You better get going then; it's almost nine o' clock." I sighed; she was right, as always.
I got up, stretched, grabbed my back pack, and was out of there, right as the phone rang. I just left, considering it might be the school, telling me I really was late. With that thought, I sped up and joined the six other people in the elevator, including London. "Hey Zack," she said, smoothing out her 'Dona Cabonna' original. "Hi," I said in return. "Shouldn't you be at school?" she asked, confused. "Well, yeah. But I have the first two periods off now that I'm a junior." Then London looked really confused. "You're a junior?" she asked. "Yes," I said slowly, making sure she understood, "Cody and I are in high school now." She paused, then her face lit up in a sigh of understanding. "Right," she said, "Is that what that party on Saturday was for: you guys being in high school?" I sighed. Maddie was right, she was hopeless. "No," I said, even more slowly than before, "That was because Cody and me turned sixteen."
At this point, I was saved from talking to London any more because the elevator doors opened and everyone, including London and myself, got out. Before going to get into my red sports car, I visited Maddie at the candy counter. "Hey sweet thang," I said, smiling. "Hi Zack," she replied, not even having to turn around. "Two Hershey's bars, please," I said, holding out two dollar bills. "Here," she said, handing me the chocolate and giving one of the dollars back, "They're fifty cents, I only need one of these." I shook my head. "Take em," I said, "Just consider it a gift from the Zack-myster." With that, I winked, smiled, and left the Tipton.
Once in my car, I opened one of the bars, and relaxed. I had that burning question in my mind again. I just couldn't get it out of my head. Why was I still living with my mother, let alone at the Tipton? Cody had his own suite, after all. Whenever I asked him how, he always gave me the same answer: 'When you were buying useless toys with your allowance, I was carefully putting all my money in my bank account. Plus, I was actually responsible and got a job to support my needs.' I would always reply with: 'Yeah, yeah, yeah…' But that didn't matter to me any more. I was Zack Martin and I could do anything! Well…almost anything.
At this point, I had pulled into the Boston High School parking lot along with the rest of the kids that had scheduled the first two periods to be their break periods. I was just about to lock my car, when something hit me. It wasn't an idea, something literally hit me. I turned around to see Cody, panting, and looking like he had been crying. "What's wrong lil bro?" I asked, trying to be as sympathetic as I could. Now Cody wasn't even trying to hide his crying, "I'll (sob) tell (sob) you… later." Then he pointed to Mom's car. She must have left when I was at the candy counter because I didn't see her leave. I took this as a sign to get in the car.
Before I had even shut the door, Mom was out of the school grounds. She must have been just as concerned as Cody because she was showing signs of crying as well. Is this what that phone call was about? "Mom," I asked cautiously, hoping she wouldn't start crying like my brother, "what exactly is going on?" My mom sighed, trying to keep herself together, "Your father," she started, but the rest of her words were drowned by tears.
'This was really bad' I thought painfully as we drove through Boston at warp speed. 'What was wrong with Dad? He couldn't have died, could he? No,' I thought, trying to steer my thoughts away from that dreadful possibility, 'don't go there.'
We pulled into the emergency room parking lot of the Boston hospital. I remember the last time we were here was when Cody broke his leg. That was my fault. We were wrestling and I tried a jump-on-Cody-to-make-him-give-up move. This did work, but it unfortunately got me into a lot of trouble.
Mom scrambled out of the car, along with Cody and myself, and ran (yes, Mom ran) into the emergency room. The automatic doors slid open to reveal various patients all waiting to be checked for broken bones or sprains, but, thankfully, we didn't have to wait. Mom proceeded right to the desk where an old lady with glasses was squinting at something on her computer screen.
"Excuse me," Mom said, not waiting for the old lady to reply, "I need to know what room Kurt Martin is in." The old lady looked up, as if she just noticed we were there. "Pardon me?" Mom sighed, obviously showing this was urgent, "Kurt Martin," she repeated, "I need to know what room Kurt Martin is in." She said Dad's name as if she was speaking to someone who didn't understand proper English. "Oh right," the old lady, who I just realized had a name tag that was labeled Margaret, said, entering the name in her computer, "Ah, here we are. He's in ward 127. That's down this hall and to the left." Mom suddenly looked relieved. "Thank you," she said exasperatedly.
"Will someone tell me what's going on?" I asked the question I had been holding back since the car ride here, which, I just realized, wasn't too long ago. Both Cody and Mom looked at the floor as we continued our quest to finding ward 127, and sighed. They knew they would have to tell me sometime. "Zack," Mom said, stopping abruptly and turning around to face me, "your father," she paused to gather herself together, "has been seriously hurt."
My heart sank through what seemed like the earth's crust. I remember the last time she said that was when Dad attempted to stage dive at one of his many concerts. His fans were crazy about him, and I'm sure if they were expecting it, they would have caught him. It's just that…he forgot to warn them. He was fine except for a broken rib. He couldn't perform for five months; only after his rib had healed and he had gone through a few months of physical therapy. Last time, Mom wasn't this upset last time, so I could only assume that this time was worse.
I nodded in response to my mom's statement. She gave a don't-worry-he'll-be-fine-like-last-time look, but for some strange reason, I just couldn't find any reason to believe her.
When we entered ward 127, I realized that it wasn't just one room, but a bunch of miniature cubicles. Nurses were bustling from different cubicle to cubicle tending to different patient's needs. They were all so busy with their many jobs that none of them seemed to pay the slightest bit of attention to any of the tree of us. There was a small, plump nurse who was tending to a man who had what looked like boils all over his face. There was another tall nurse who was going back and fourth from the small fridge in the corner to a cubicle that I couldn't see who was in there because the curtain was pulled over the entrance. When Mom finally got the attention of a nurse with long red hair and a pretty face, she brought us to the last cubicle on the right.
A man with black hair was lying motionless, his only company being a fly buzzing continuously into the closed dusty window on the ugly wallpapered wall. The nurses seem to avoid this cubicle and I don't blame them. It looked ancient. The bed legs had clawed feet and the bedside table looked like it was about to fall over even though it looked like nothing had been placed on it in years. There was a collection of dust bunnies that seemed to be steadily growing as we speak and the only modern looking object in the room was a chair with a stain that appeared that someone had puked on it.
I feebly approached the corpse-like man. "Dad?" He didn't move.
