Logan... where was Logan? He had to be in the apartment--he'd been
there when she got there. /Damn all/ she thought. /Trust you to lose
focus on people when you catch sight of three huge goons/. Max
smiled--a dry, desperate grin that stretched her emotions to the
breaking point.
A sudden noise made her turn and stare out the window. A car was
pulling away, leaving in its wake....a wheelchair? Not wishing to waste
time with stairs and doors, or worse, elevators, Max climbed out the
window and down the outside of the building, landing lightly as a
raindrop on both feet and racing to her motorcycle, only a few steps
away.
As she gained on the screeching car--black, how clichéd--she strained
to
see into its tinited windows. Sure enough, there was Logan, seemingly
unconscious and propped up against the inside of the door. She revved
her bike and pressed harder on the accelerator, squinting against the
windflow and not exactly sure what she would do once she caught up
with
them.
Which turned out not to be a problem. Because one of them finally
spotted her (she wondered later at their stupidity for not seeing
her--or at least hearing her--before), pointed her out to his cronies,
who fired on her. He apparently wasn't aiming to kill her, but he
struck her fuel tank. She swore as the gasoline dribbled down onto her
shoes, and swerved sharply to avoid patching out in the middle of a busy
street.
********
Logan woke groggily in the car just moments after Max had been struck
by
the bullet. It wasn't the sound that woke him--the drugs they were
using on him were far too powerful--but the effects of another
injecion. He found himself thinking whimsically (he had no idea why) of
Shelley's Adonis, which he hadn't read in years. The next moment he was
subject to a rude awakening.
"Hey, Eyes-Only," bulky goon sitting next to him said in a tone both
mocking, and somehow so deadly serious that Logan's mind was instantly
focused on it. He felt a weight resting on his hand, and glanced down
to see the barrel of a Magnum pressing into his skin. That focused his
mind even more until it was razor sharp. He stared at the man beside
him and blinked rapidly, eneavoring to clear Adonis from his mind.
"We have several things to discuss with you, EYES-ONLY." Logan's eyes
focused on the man beside him, who was grinning evilly. "Our boss
doesn't like your . . . how should I put it? . . . activities."
"I know several people whose bosses don't like my activities." Logan
managed to reply in a slurred voice. "What of it?"
"Our boss is . . . you might say . . . special. You might not like what
he does to you. But you're the saintly political martyr type,
aintcha?" The man began to laugh. "The boss oughta have fun with you.
But first, *I* have a little matter to settle with you." He cleared is
thoat, and chuckled again. In a moment all laughing and smiling was
over. The two men had their whole selves concentrated on him and his
answer. He began to feel uncomfortable.
"Now you better think fast, Eyes-Only, and answer good. Because I'm
feeling trigger happy and if I pull it, it'll hurt like fuck." The man
was seemingly not finished speaking, so Logan stayed silent. "Darkish
chick, dark hair, real dishy, black eyes, pouty mouth. Gave us a
helluva time. Worked Don over real good. Are you gonna give me some
answers, or am I gonna blow your hand off?" Logan's mind raced. So he
had been right--Max had been in the apartment--and they hadn't caught
her. /Well, that's one lucky thing. At least now, when I die, I won't
have her on my soul/.
"Her name's Max." he said. "She works at the Jam Pony. Just a fling.
She know karate or something?"
The goon pulled the trigger.
Through the pain, Logan heard him say "Liar."
The man on his other side replied "Oh well, we'll know soon enough."
A cold, harsh, bark of a laugh was heard.
Logan lost consciousness.
********
Max thrust herself in front of a taxi, which screeched to a halt to let
her in. She told him what the car looked like, and that he should
follow it at all costs. Luckily, she had all of that month's salary
with her, which she stuffed into the man's hand as he stared down her
cleavage. She toyed with the idea of slapping him, but she wanted him
on her side.
When they caught up with the car, it was just pulling into a warehouse.
The warehouse had used to be the Gap. Max let out an incredulous laugh
when she saw the face of the guard at the door. He had grown up with
her at Manticore. He hadn't tried to escape.
She no longer remembered his name.
But he remembered hers.
"Max!" he said as she walked past him.
"Hello, 264007821," she said coolly.
"So you made it."
"So far."
"True. I have to kill you now. Unless you have an appointment...?"
"Tell the boss I'm a friend of Eyes-Only's."
"Ritzy. I'll tell him." He lifted his transistor radio to his mouth.
"One of those from Manticore is requesting to be allowed to see
Eyes-Only." he reported.
"Really? Does this person have a name?" returned a voice with an LA
accent.
"Her name is Max."
"Is it now? Detain her for a few hours. It will be interesting to have
a little chat with her. Would you mind restraining her? Just a
formality."
"Not at all." He glanced semi-apologetically at Max and turned her,
unprotesting, around so that he could bind her wrists together, then her
ankles.
"So," she said at length. "Why is it that I'm not allowed to see
Eyes-Only right this instant?" 264007821 shifted guiltily. "Not at
liberty to divulge?" Max put the words in his mouth. He smiled
ruefully at her and nodded. "Are they going to torture him? Don't they
think I can handle watching?"
"They may torture him. But there's...a special treatment that the boss
has for his...important guests. He shouldn't be interrupted."
********
Logan found himself sitting in a room which to him, suggested the
ridiculous noveau-art of the post-'05 years. He wasn't bound, or
anything like that, but he found moving his arms as difficult as he was
finding organizing his thoughts to be, and he obviously couldn't get
anywhere on his legs. His hurt hand had been bandaged, and apparently
the drugs were so strong he couldn't feel it. Eventually, a man he'd
not seen before entered.
Logan knew this man. He'd done several Freedom Stream broadcasts on
him. His name was Vinnie Amsterdam. He was big in the LA black
market--prostitution, drugs, ransom, blackmail--there wasn't much this
guy DIDN'T do.
"So," the man commented. "You are Eyes-Only. How strange. I expected
something a little more muscular. Or perhaps more effeminate. But you
are neither. Most confusing. What's your name?" The man didn't seem
to expect an answer. He was looking something up on a Palm Pilot.
"Logan?" he said in a moment, looking up and glancing at the
aforementioned. "You don't look like a Logan. You look like an
Alexander, or a Lewis [you could hear the double-u in the way he
pronounced it], a Michael, or even a Dominic. But not a Logan."
"So, am I here for a purpose?" Logan asked, refraining from commenting
on his name.
"Yes. I'd like some information. You, no doubt, will be reluctant to
give it. I'd also like you to erase me from your file and from all
future broadcasts. I KNOW you won't want to do that."
"So, are you actually going to physically torture me, or are you just
going to bore me until I tell you everything you want?" Logan suspected
that if he hadn't been so drugged-up, he would have been extremely
frightened.
"Oh, I don't think you'll be bored. And I doubt that I'll do anything
one could actually term 'torture'...I don't hold with that sort of
thing. I find it tedious. I'm just going to hypnotize, and then
brainwash you. Don't worry--it won't hurt."
********
Eventually, 264007821's two-way radio beeped. He turned it on.
"You can let her in now," the voice at the other end said. "Unbind
her. She'll be more interesting that way."
"OK," 264007821 replied, then glanced at Max apprehensively. As he
unbound her, he said "I hope you're ready for what you'll see in
there." Max shivered.
As soon as her bonds were off, she lifted her leg and kicked 264007821
hard in the jaw. As he slumped to the ground, she reached out and
grabbed his handgun from him. Tucking it into her belt, she said
"Thanks" and ran down the hall.
She didn't like what she saw in the room where Logan sat. Or anyway, it
looked like Logan. When she came in, he glanced up from the ground, all
around the room, his eyes briefly resting on her face, then, with no
sign of recognition, down again.
"Logan!" she cried, her voice pitched higher than she'd meant,
frightened.
The man accross from her smiled. There was nothing nice about him or
his smile.
"He doesn't know you," the man told her. "He's my toy now."
"Your TOY?"
"Yes, and I added this amusing feature just for your benefit." He
clapped his hands twice, and Logan began speaking in a dull voice, as
though he were resigned, and as though what he was saying and why
meant
nothing to him.
"Lydecker is my friend. You should never have left Manticore. The
government is good. Nothing good can come from cheating the
government. Eyes-Only is dead. There is nothing good in protest. All
must be ordered, or everything must be chaos. Your place is in
fighting. You are a warrior--a killing machine, nothing more."
He still hadn't looked at her. Max's gut clenched. For the first time
she noticed the bandage on his hand--a shinig white flag telling her in
a red language written in blood all she needed to know. These people
were cruel.
"He can never be redeemed. He is lost to you forever." The man's words
fell on her pulsing ears like a freezing shower. "He'll never regain
control. Not over me, not over people, not over any silly television
cables." Then the man grinned. "Logan, strangle that woman accross
from you."
Max closed her eyes in desperation for a moment. When she opened
them,
Logan was wheeling himself over to her in a wheelchair she'd never seen
before--and his eyes were still on the floor.
Max did the only thing she could think of.
She lifted the pistol from her belt and fired.
As Logan's body jerked from the impact of the bullet, she was sure she'd
seen him thrust himself out of the wheelchair and onto the floor--of his
own free will.
********
Logan shuddered on the floor from the pain. He could feel his own mind
returning to the surface, could feel himself shaking off the cobwebby
bonds that had been placed on his mind.
He twisted so that he could gaze into Max's eyes, which were full of
horror at her own actions. He smiled at her, knowing finally that this
was the end--this time, there would be nothing to save him, he could
not
be redeemed one more time, either through his own actions, Max's, or
some sort of miracle. He was dying, and it no longer mattered why.
********
Max gazed at him, feeling her mind filling with tears that were not yet
overflowing into her eyes. For a moment she was paralyzed, the only
movement she seemed able to make was her arm dropping to her
side--the
arm that held the gun that killed Logan.
She knew that he was now free of whatever new-age thrall he'd been
under. He smiled at her, as his body leaked its blood onto the floor.
"Max!" he whispered, almost happily. She knelt down. He could not
speak very loud, and she knew it.
"What?"
"Thank you!" He was smiling still.
"For what?" She managed to choke out these few words, against her
body's decrees.
"This." Logan waved his good hand at the wound she'd just inflicted.
She felt her stomach turn.
"Why?"
"You know why. It was the only thing, the best thing. I thank you for
it."
"Does it hurt?"
"No. I'm not scared, either. Let's just see what comes next. You do
know that I love you?"
"Oh Logan! Me too."
"Ain't just your meal ticket anymore...." he joked, almost inaudibly.
"You gonna hafta learn ta cook now, eh Max?" As she gripped his hand,
she could feel his own grip going limp in hers. She watched his eyelids
flutter, she felt his pulse slow, she watched and felt and heard and
didn't weep as he died.
Then she stood up.
She lifted her arm again.
She shot all three gaurds, impersonally. She thought to herself that
she was in shock. She didn't care.
She was about to kill the leader--she recognized him from Logan's
broadcasts...an LA black-market man. Vinnie Armstrong.
She made the mistake of looking right into his eyes.
As he looked into hers.
He spoke softly, "Are you sure that's what you want to do?"
Her hand faltered. Her chin dropped, she shook her head. Her arm
dropped.
"Now go," he ordered. "You don't really matter. I have no interest in
keeping you."
She turned, walked out the door.
And halfway down the hall.
She stopped.
She turned.
She walked back.
She lifted her arm again.
This time, she kept her eyes on his shirt.
She fired.
And walked back.
********
On her way out, Max dropped the pistol next to its unconscious owner.
"Goodbye, 264007821." What she meant was, goodbye Logan.
She walked steadily, head held high, all the way to Logan's apartment.
She let herself in.
********
Max broadcasted her voice over the airwaves.
"Do not attempt to adjust your set. This is a Freedom Stream video. I
regret to inform you that the man you have known as Eyes-Only, Logan
Cale, is dead. The man responsible for his death is Vinnie Armstrong
[she showed a visual of his face, then a visual of Logan's], who is now
also dead. I killed him. The level of corruption is still
far-reaching. This is still the only free voice left in the community.
Eyes still cannot be bought, or threatened. Only now they're my eyes.
This has been a Freedom Stream video."
She pushed herself away from the camera as she switched it off.
She ran at a dead sprint back to her house.
********
Max rested her head against the doorjamb for a moment, breathed in
several shaky breaths, then began to cry. For the first time. Loud,
messy sobs, sobs that racked her body and filled the apartment.
Kendra came running. She was frightened now, more than she'd ever
been.
"Max! Are you all right? What's the matter? Are you hurt?" She had
never, not once, NEVER, seen Max cry. Not a whimper, not a tear. Which
made this all the more terrifying.
"Logan's dead." Max gasped. She felt as if those two words said more
than any other words she'd ever said. But her next sentenced topped
that. "I loved him."
Kendra didn't know the half of it, but what she did know was plenty for
her, and she gathered Max into her arms and let her friend's head rest
against her chest as they both sobbed like children. Only Kendra was
sobbing for Max and for Logan, and Max was sobbing not just for herself,
and not just for Logan, but for the whole world, which was worse off
without him. Their loss.
********
Bling called the next day. He'd found out every last detail of what had
happend, God knows how, and needed to tell Max something.
"Logan left you everything. Everything he owned."
Max started living in Logan's apartment. She continued working at the
Jam Pony, and she continued making Eyes Only broadcasts. She was
good
at it. Perhaps not as good as Logan, but then saving the world had been
his idea, not hers.
She kept his wheelchair.
Missing him desperately, she sometimes spoke as if he were there.
She did it so many times, not believing it, that she finally began to
believe it. That he could hear her. That he was somehow, inexplicably,
impossibly, with her.
And each time she spoke to him, Logan's wraith, who was not in the
wheelchair, but standing directly behind her, smiled quietly to
himself.