Chapter 2
Ororo sleeps beside him in the cab of the flatbed truck; her head rests against the window, her hair is a splash against the window. She's done her part today, breaking into the old Ford and getting it going. It's his turn, so he'll drive while she rests.
Logan had turned the radio off hours ago, tiring of endless pundits and their expert analysis. Months ago and behind closed doors the federal government passed the Defense of Humanity Act. Today was the first of many government sanctioned military waves. They weren't the only targets, across the country, in 48 states, there were similar operations. Some parents lost custodial privileges while others were forced to forfeit their own civil liberties.
The government had finally completed the work that was twenty years in the making. The people had elected a congress and president that would solve the mutant problem. There was no information about the location or plans for the children only that all detainees were being held at an undisclosed location.
He had driven cross country dozens of times in his life and where, usually America seems sprawling and beautiful. Today, he found it bleak, with a low smothering sky. He stops for gas, Ororo's head bobs lightly when they enter the Speedway lot.
He pulls his hat down low on his forehead so that the brim almost touches his shades and enters the station. He buys four hot dogs for himself and an Italian sub for 'Ro, tries the school again and is greeted with the same message:
"Thank you for calling the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning, I'm sorry that we we are unable to take your call. Please leave a message or for immediate information try our website X.I.H.L dot E.D.U." Its Jeans voice, older, more serious but still hers.
He had been trying since the incident and each time he was greeted by the same message, in his rational mind, Logan knows that the school has been taken.
"Since when did you stop accepting hard truths?" He asks himself, biting into a plain hot dog.
You've never had kids before.
Logan was always surprised by how patient fatherhood had made him. He never snapped or became weary of fatherhood. Since Torrance was born the part of him that was the best at murder became the best at fathering. Not too much later Elliot came into their lives and while Torrence was nothing like either of his parents, Elliot came into this world in a berserker rage. His tantrums were off the scale but Logan knew what to do, Logan understood that there was no "why" when it came to his son's anger. Logan would watch while Elliot destroyed his room and when it was over and Elliot's eyes were moist with embarrassment and regret, he helped his son clean it up.
Neither of them had their mother's silver hair, a blessing really because her beautiful hair would only complicate their plainfolk persona. Even with his outbursts, Elliot had her compassion, an inherent moral compass.
The sun melts into the horizon, becoming a deep red while kissing the vast, endless stretch of sand before them. Before that, in the skies above and before them a deep ethereal blue reaches to envelop the sunset.
Ororo stirs in her seat beside him, clearing her throat and stretching so that her wrists pop.
Damn we're getting old. He thinks, reaching into the bag for her sub.
She takes her plastic wrapped sandwich, using her teeth to open the packet of mustard that came with it. Then like a tempest she remembers the events of that day and lays the half opened muster in the plastic and begins to wrap the sandwich back up.
"'Ro." He says gently.
"I'm not hungry, Logan."
"I don't care." The softness doesn't leave his voice, "the X-men ain't nowhere to be found so it's just you and me and our kids."
She unwraps the sandwich again, accepting that she needs her strength. The packet of mustard falls to the floor between her feet. She tears a third of the sandwich off, meat hanging sloppily outside of the bread, and eats it in three bites.
"How are you feeling?" He asks, keeping his eyes glued to the road.
"Pissed off."
"Good 'cause we ain't the good guys anymore."
Ororo gasps for air, her heart beats like tiny explosions in her chest, her lungs resist her attempts at rested resaturation. She doesn't know how fast she flew and carrying Logan is like carrying three partners. It was a gamble but he challenged her doubts, "if it kills us, then we died for the kids."
Logan lay cold on the pavement, blue and not breathing. His body is not accustom to flying at that speed and for a lot of the time spent in the air he wasn't breathing. To make good time she could not split her concentration to make concessions for him; which was his idea.
Her body is spent though, she can hardly picture lightning let alone hurl a bolt into his chest. She wrestles with herself to find balance and her face and arms tingle as she starts chest compressions. If she's able to get his blood flowing again, even artificially, his healing factor should do the rest. Sweat pours down her face stinging her eyes.
"Come on Logan!" She yells through labored breath.
Ororo tilts his head back, with no confidence that her lungs have the capacity to jumpstart his, she begins mouth to mouth.
He inhales lightly, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth and blowing it back out. Silently, she thanks the Goddess and collapses onto his chest, listening to his heartbeat. The alley is dark, cramped and filled with trash. The ground beneath them is paved in brick, boring into her knees.
Slowly, Logan's breathing becomes more regulated and as he is able to talk she has caught her second wind.
"Are we there yet?" He asks, almost smiling.
" Yea, we're here."
"What the hell!" Harsh light flashes through the alley onto them.
The officer wears a black uniform and hat, "this isn't a crackhead bed and breakfast." His tone is derisive, "the mission are full and you two can't sleep here. Move along."
Ororo helps Logan up as best she can her arms resent the dense metal that lines his skeleton. They begin to hobble away from the officers down the alleyway.
"We ain't the UN 'Ro, tomorrow is the first battle and people are gonna die."