06
3 HOURS AGO
"Help! Oh my God, help me! Please!"
Zack's eyes opened. Then closed. Opened again. He coughed hard, wincing as pain erupted in his chest. Something gritty in his eye made him blink rapidly. He brought up his hands to rub at his eyes. No, didn't bring them up. Brought them down. Down to his face to rub at his eyes. Releasing his muscles, his arms draped over his head once more.
Zack coughed, blinked hard. His vision swam, swirling vortexes of color that didn't make sense. Bright colors, bright colored muted by the darkness around him. Zack shifted his head, tried to see something. Anything. It was too dark. Zack dropped his hands to his lap, felt his seatbelt holding him in. His fingers scuttled over the buckle until, finally, he managed to release himself. Zack slammed to the roof of the car and slowly uncurled himself.
The roof.
Last thing he knew, he was driving. Sitting straight up. Going to get more food for the party. And now…now Zack worked to wiggle his way out of the driver's seat, out the narrow window that'd become crushed when…when whatever happened, happened.
Flipping himself to his stomach, Zack pressed his arms against the ground, working to pull himself forward, out the window and into the cool, night air. Zack crawled on his hands and knees, glass embedding into his skin, ripping the flesh, causing blood to flow from his palms until he was free from the wreckage. He stood up and turned back to look at the car, stared in surprised at how crushed it'd become. Like an empty soda can tossed aside as trash. Smoke rose from beneath the hood of the car, he could see someone lying quietly on the ground, could hear shouting and desperate screams. Sirens filled the area.
Zack coughed hard, bringing a hand to his chest, rubbed large circles, hoping to rid himself of the pain. Coughed harder and harder. His hands dropped to the front of his jeans, searching for his morpher. If he could morph, the pain would go away, he'd be strong. All until he demorphed, then the pain and weakness would come back, two-fold, sapping more energy and strength from him than before.
His hands continued to wander.
It took a few seconds for him to realize his morpher was missing.
Zack jolted awake from an empty dream. He didn't remember anything. Blackness. Not even colors. He didn't hear anything. No screams. No anguished cries. Nothing but the deafening sound of silence. And yet, something had scared him awake. Some loud thing, some big thing that pulled him from the depths of his subconscious and back to reality.
He looked around, noticing his parents weren't around. They'd been there when he'd gone to sleep, his head falling heavily on his mother's shoulder as she rocked him back and forth, running her fingers through his hair. Soothing him the way she'd always done when he was a child. Zack wouldn't ever consider himself to be egregiously religious; he went to church every Sunday, prayed when he needed to, and worked hard to be the best version of himself that could be seen in the Lord's eyes. And yet, he was the same person that would go off to hang out with his friends rather than going to church if a better offer came up.
He'd wave off his mother's disapproving looks and say he'd be with them next time. "How many times am I going to be young?" He asked, echoing the words back to them that they consistently put on him, usually when he was talking about what he wanted to do in the future. Now, Zack understood what the words truly meant.
You're only young once. Don't waste that potential of what you can experience because of what you want to do with your future. And yet, they were also the ones who were asking him what he wanted to do with his future. Go to school on an athletic scholarship? (They were really pushing for football, basketball, or track and field). Go to school on an academic scholarship? (He had to admit, he was really good in his math classes). Would he go straight into the work force? (Re: join his parents' offices and work from the bottom up?) There were too many options but only one life to live.
And he'd ruined that life.
Not just with his decision to drink and drive, not just because of his decision to drink while underage, but because of the resulting consequences. He didn't know if anyone was killed, didn't know how hurt anyone was, didn't know if they'd make full recoveries. But his life wouldn't. The police knew he was driving, the police knew the party was his idea, the police knew he was the one who had said that bringing alcohol to the party was okay. All because he wanted to impress Angela. His father had told him time and time again, "Don't lose your head over a girl," and he'd done just that.
He'd lost his head over a girl. On two fronts; she was an older girl and she was the one girl he'd always had his eyes on. When she finally turned her attention back to him, he couldn't help but lap it up. Couldn't help but revel in it if he could. There were too many other guys she could give her attention to and she wanted to be with him. Why shouldn't he take advantage of it? If he knew what it'd end up as, he'd stay far away from her.
Turn her away the second she mentioned she was bringing beer to the party.
"It's not a big deal," she said, opening the cap of one. She let out a short 'ah', face screwing up when she swallowed. "It doesn't taste great but…" she held it out to him, question in her eyes.
Zack wished he turned her down. He wished he could go back in time and do everything different. He'd stop himself from being so jealous, so envious of everyone's relationships and ask if Angela could join them. He'd gladly sit back and watch all his friends cuddle with each other while he sat aside with Bailey and Fred, wondering what it'd be like.
He'd give anything.
Zack rubbed his eyes, heart thudding over his chest, watched as doctors gathered at the end of the hallway. His heart sank even further, hearing a name mentioned. "…Mitchell…she's not doing too well. She hasn't woken up, hasn't responded to anything that's been going on. The prognosis…the prognosis isn't good….ICU…right now, it looks touch and go….sister is here…can't contact parents…unsure if it goes to the Olivers or…they need to be notified…prepared in case things take a turn…"
"Zack?"
That's what'd gotten his attention. That's what'd woken him up out of his dead sleep. Not the creeping cold of the hospital chilling him to the bone. Not the chaos erupting around him. Not his parents' moving away to…wherever they were. But the sound of his name being called.
Zack's head whipped to the side and he saw Avalon standing next to him. For a moment, he didn't recognize her. Her long hair hung in stringy clumps around her face, wet strands staining the shoulders of her jacket. The sleeves of her jacket hung over her hands, the end coming to her knees, cutting off her 5'0 stature to make her look…just like a child. A child who was lost, looking for her parents. The look on her face didn't help matters; loss and fear filled her brown eyes. Her lower lip trembles. Water dripped off the ends of her sleeves and to the floor, mixing with the blood that dripped from her knees to the ground.
Zack frowned. She wasn't in the car with them. She'd refused to go. What happened? He thought.
Avalon asked the question out loud. "What happened?" Her voice was hoarse. She'd been crying. "Zack…I saw…where is everyone?" Her voice strengthened as she spoke, barely sitting on the end of rational. Her face slowly grew enraged. It took Zack a second to realize what was happening.
His gaze shifted towards the doctors, who continued to converse in low, rumbling tones. Zack couldn't hear what was being said, but could only guess. Avalon heard everything the doctors had said before she called Zack's name. Had probably been there longer than he thought. "Where's Bay?" she demanded. Zack shook his head. He didn't know. Had no answers. Avalon wouldn't have it. "Where's Bailey, Zack?" She moved closer to her friend's side. If she noticed any pain Zack was in, she didn't show it. "What happened? What'd you do?!"
What'd you do?!
What'd you do?!
What'd you do?!
The words echoed in his head. Then a shrieking filled his ears. A sudden, low noise that continued as the seconds passed. Then he was hit. The first blow landing on his ribs, making him cry out in pain. Then the second landed on his shoulder, jerking him back into a standing position. Avalon continued to rain blows on him, punching the black ranger as hard as she could. Her morpher, which sat on the front of her jeans flashed in the light. Zack felt like throwing up. They
Zack stepped back with each blow against his chest. Each fist striking him slowly broke down the wall he'd built up inside. Threatened to make the walls crumble and his emotions come spilling out once more. And Avalon continued to shriek as she did so, a horrifying shriek that only those feeling nothing short of despair could yield. Zack squeeze his eyes shut against the shrieking. He brought up his hands and placed them on Avalon's back, holding her tightly.
She continued to hit him until breaking down into sobs, easily mixing in with the ones Zack had thought he'd gotten out of his system. And the two held onto each other as they cried. Cried about their friends, cried about the unknown, cried that they had every power in their disposal to keep people safe and they couldn't do anything to keep themselves safe from driving.
"I'm sorry," Zack murmured.
Avalon didn't respond for a second. She continued to hold onto him, a lifeline to keep herself up as she gathered her strength. And yet, she was strong enough to murmur a low and dangerous, "I hate you."
Zack's arms dropped from around the orange ranger. He looked just over her head, not wanting to see the glare on her face. Not wanting her to know that her words, as harsh as they were, didn't hurt him simply because he'd had the same thoughts. He hated himself for everything.
There wasn't anything any of them could say that'd be worse than what he'd said to himself.
"He's over there."
Zack's eyes shifted. He felt Avalon stiffen in his arms and the two rangers turned to see police officers striding their way, eyes focused straight on the black ranger. Zack swallowed hard, watching as they came closer and closer. Behind the officers, Zack could see a nurse pointing toward them, a stern expression on her face.
The officers walked straight up to Zack and looked him in the eye. His face was nothing short of stern. "Zachary Taylor?" The officer grasped his arm. Zack looked up at him. He was different than the officers he'd seen earlier that night…or morning? Time went by slowly, almost non-existent while he waited for any information.
"Yes," Zack said. He swallowed hard. Knew what was coming before the handcuffs were tightened around his wrists.
"We need you to come with us."
Zack was pulled away from the orange ranger, who watched him leave, her anger turning to confusion and fear. Zack faced forward, allowing himself to be taken towards the front of the hospital. Passing room after room. Finally, he emerged out in the waiting room and stopped short.
Stopped short when his eyes caught Tommy's.
Tommy gaped back at him, gently cradling his broken arm against his chest. The front of his white t-shirt was covered in blood. Clutched tightly in his hand was a blood splattered communicator. Even from where Zack stood he could see the pink grooves within the silver, metal bands.
Zack's gaze flickered over Tommy's face once more before he was led away.
A/N: Sorry it took so long to get back to this. You'll find out more of some of the other rangers in the next chapter.
~Av