CHAPTER SIXTY EIGHT
"Miss," an impossibly youthful waiter interrupts my repose, "the gentleman at the bar sends this with his compliments."
Casually as possible I survey the panorama before me. From this lush terrace a cool tropical oasis sparkles at my feet. Cabanas in brilliant hues dot the pristine white sands of Saint Martaan rimming the dazzling turquoise Caribbean Sea. Just a few yards away, in a swimming pool designed to mimic the sea, that teenaged child of mine splashes and cat calls loudly to her friend.
I can't help giggling. "Thank you," I reply refusing to cast my eyes in the direction pointed out by the waiter. Who would send me a tropical cocktail? Almost fifty, overdue to color my gray with a teenaged daughter only yards away. Probably some crotchety old fart that left his glasses in his room. Titillated, I finally cast a glance at my benefactor.
"Oh! Oh my gosh." Directing the waiter, "Please invite the gentleman to join me," I'm relieved it's not a crotchety old fart but thoroughly mystified by this man's unexpected appearance.
Grayer and a bit heavier than the last time I saw my former colleague, Stanislaw Ruchinsky strolls the distance between tiki bar and wicker settee. "Marla Jennings! I saw you sitting there and I said to myself I know that lady…."
"Stan. How on earth? This is such a surprise."
"Indeed it is." Casually gesturing to a chair, "May I?"
"Certainly."
Simultaneously, we ask, "So, what brings you here?"
Pretending to shiver, "Escaping the gray uglies of winter," I reply. "And you?"
"A little business, a little pleasure," he replies with a casual wave.
I laugh, "Well at least I can boast this is purely holiday for me. Didn't even bring a laptop."
At that moment, two dripping wet girls saunter tableside. "Mom," Wendy gushes breathlessly, "mind if Sara and me take the golf cart and go shopping?"
"Wendy Leigh!" I admonish, "Where are your manners?"
"Oops! Sorry" She blushes and looks at my guest, "Excuse us…"
Ruchinsky nods then averts his eyes.
"Can we mother? Please."
Ah yes; the contrite, beseeching tone of a teenager in the throes of a shopping urge! With girls my daughters' age there are two hormone surges; one reserved for boys and the other to spend copious amounts of parental money on fluff. "May we mother," I correct. "Yes you may; in about half an hour. Get changed ladies and I'll be along in a bit."
It's painfully clear they'd not planned on me being along from the horrified looks on their faces. Too bad! After that close call back in New York, I'm not letting Wendy out of my sight. "Go on," I shoo them. "I won't be standing around waiting for you if you're still fiddling with your hair or something."
"My, time flies," Stan says as the girls dance from terrace. "Fifteen years, isn't it?"
Something in his voice sets up a twinge in my breast, "What about it?"
"It's been that long since you left Replications, hasn't it?"
The mention of Replications chills me despite the tropical warmth. "Yes. I suppose it has." My voice sounds more nervous than I want. "I swear, the world gets smaller as the years fly by, don't you think?"
"Yes. It's amazing how that happens? It's ironic in a way. Luc and I were just talking about that a few days ago..." As he continues, the casual look on his face becomes serious, "You remember Lucien Diebel, don't you?"
My heart skips a beat. Something tells me this encounter is not happenstance.
"…How well you've managed in fifteen years. We're both quite pleased. Who knew six forty two, a throw away, would have turned out so lovely and talented. You should be very proud."
Suddenly the blood rushes to my feet and I'm afraid I'm going to be violently ill.
"There, there doctor Jennings. Surely you don't believe we weren't aware?"
"What…what do you want?" I stammer.
"Our property," he says coldly.
Your property? Suddenly my protective maternal instincts are aroused. The property he's referring to is a living, breathing, beautiful child. "Excuse me. If embryo six forty two indeed was a throw away, why the interest now?"
"Don't be coy, Marla. We know that you and a few other misguided women rescued embryos. Discards or not, they're assets and it's bad business not to keep track of assets. Even the mafia keeps track of its trash."
"As it turns out, six…"
Her name is,…" Biting my tongue to silence myself, I know he's done his homework but I'm not going to hand anything to him.
"Yes, Wendy. We know her name. Nevertheless, several like her exist. We've already brought in three, though they're average."
Oh Lord. Picturing the faces of a few former colleagues, I feel frigid dread grip my innards. Though our reasons differed, we all knew we'd crossed into deadly territory when we implanted those embryos into our wombs.
"With training they should be useful," Ruchinsky assures. "But Wendy!" he says gleefully, "Now there's astounding potential."
"There's nothing my daughter has that's of any use to you." I spit out the lie with all the verve of a mother cobra.
Ruchinsky's laugh is evil, "Oh come now. Telekinesis. Energy barriers. We know all about it."
God help me! The carefully crafted life I've made for my child is unraveling as I speak to this Satan-incarnate. How could I be so naïve? Believing I could get away with a precious belonging of the great and powerful Luc Diebel. "But, but--- she's not suited. She's gentle. She's just a child," I counter.
"We have an amazing arsenal of tools to overcome any defects."
"You're ---a monster."
His laugh is cruel, sickening, "Nevertheless, the time has come. Six forty two is ripe for assimilation."
I can't shrink fast enough as he reaches to clasp my shoulder. "Don't touch me," I hiss.
His voice is cold and exacting, "It's been a lovely chat. Someone will be in touch" His mouth curves into a sinister smile, "Enjoy the cocktail," as he strolls casually away.
Furious beyond retort, I hurl the drink with all my strength, lambasting him squarely between the shoulders. Gasping in pain, he straightens and disappears from sight.
Momentarily sickened with fright, I feel paralyzed. Dear god, dear god. What do I do? What can I do? There's no standing against the Company; at least not someone like me. It takes someone powerful; someone who's stood up and won.
Wendy! She's virtually alone in the villa. I know Ruchinsky and company rarely act alone. Jumping to my feet I race to my daughter. Before I make it to the girls, who were blessedly oblivious and safe, I have a plan. The only man; Mutant I know who's stood up to them and won; who could possibly help, is her father.
CHAPTER SIXTY NINE
"Ok, kiddo," I say flopping onto the couch in our suite, "to answer your question; I was pissed off and I lost it."
"Yes sir, I kinda got that part." Matt settles cross legged on the floor, "I think I'd piss my pants if somebody tried to kill me."
He goes quiet. Fear's abating, replaced by equal measures of confusion and curiosity. "What I don't get is the part about mom's father." Eyeing me then his mom, he dumps a bombshell, "What's he got to do with anything?"
Glancing at Susie next to me on the couch, her pinched features tell there's no more stalling. But how do I strip it down? How do I talk about shit I can't think about without reverting to a psychotic animal?
Suckin' in a breath, rakin' my scalp, flexin' and rollin' my shoulders, I'm looking for a beginning. No! Fuckin' coward that I really am, it's an out I'm lookin' for. Exhaling through pursed lips, it's time to jump in, "Your grandfather. . .did you know him?"
Puzzled, Matt glances at Sue, "I don't remember… don't think so."
"You couldn't have," she replies before revealing, "The last time he saw you was at your christening. You were only two months old."
The kid seems relieved and nods.
Ok. Good deal. No baggage to repack. "Your grandfather n'me was assigned to the same unit for a couple o'years in the early eighties. Part of the program involved altering mutants. That's how I got the metal on my bones—and the claws." Phew! Came out better'n I thought.
"My grandfather did that?"
"Yeah." Stryker's ugly mug flashes in my minds eye. Rage bubbles in the cauldron of my soul. Keep control, Wolverine. My tone's sharp as the claws lurking beneath my flesh, "He was part of a team."
"Why?"
Jesus Christ! Why? Been askin' that for better'n twenty years. Because they were tyrannical, sadistic motherfuckers and they could. "They wanted to form an elite squad to combat mutant terrorists." Ain't a lie but sure leaves out a lot'o shit. "You know, guys like Magneto."
"Whoa! No shi—no joke?"
Gotta love that in the kid; truly can find right in damn near any shit slung his way.
"Did my granddad—was he like a mutant too?'
"No," Susan interjects.
Matt genuinely intrigued, "So you and my granddad really worked together. What kinda stuff did you do?"
Can't stifle a hard-bitten chuckle, "Hey kid, if I told ya, I'd hafta kill ya." What a fuckin' cliché'! But it's the truth in more ways'n one.
He laughs, "Right! Oh come on. They only say that stuff in the movies."
Snorting, I reply, "Nope. Most of it's still classified."
Matt silently digests everything, "So, you were like a spy?"
"You could definitely say that." And assassin—and let's kick it up a notch maybe; to say, mass murderer!
"Who'd ya spy on?"
"Kid, I told ya I can't—"
"Matt!" Sue interjects sternly.
"Yes'm. Sorry Logan. It's like really cool to know somebody that was an actual spy or something."
Rancor spews out, "There is nothing cool about it!" Damn it to hell. It ain't nothing like the movies. "Do you know what a spy really is?"
The kid gives half a nod then screws up his face, embarrassed and shakes his head.
"A spy's nothing better than a liar, a cheat and a thief. They just get paid to do it."
"Oh," he replies. The kids jittery again. Can't blame him with the way I jumped down his throat.
Curiosity prevails, "Can I ask ya something else?"
"Go for it."
"How'd they do it?"
"Do what?'
"The stuff to your bones?"
Fuck! Don't know if I can go here and keep it cool. It's easier if I pace; bleeds off nervous energy. No it don't. Just thinkin' about it's like main linin' pure adrenalin. Sweat collects on my brow. My heart's a jackhammer. They burn and habitually I flex and massage steely blue knuckles. I'm on the brink. My mind screams; Susie, help me out but the words stick in my craw.
She does, "You know how Bobeshi had her hip replaced? Like that, sort of; but all over."
Thank you, thank you darlin'! I'm owin' ya big time for that save. Nodding agreement, "Yeah," comes out in a rush of air, "that's close enough."
With no frame of reference to even question that it wasn't anything like a joint replacement, the kid seems good with that answer. I'm happy to leave it at that.
"Then why'd ya yell at mom?"
Shit! Kid's tenacious as a pit bull jawin' a bone. "Like I said, I was pissed and I shot my mouth off when I shouldn'a.. The kid ain't buying it. Can see it on his face and smell the skepticism. "Listen Matt; I uh, went through a rough patch 'bout twenty years ago. Same time I got the metal on my bones. Anyway…I lost my memory."
"No way! All of it? How?"
Oh fuck! I just made a tactical error. Squeezing my forehead between thumb and index finger, I think I've got an actual headache coming on! Not unheard of but rarer than a strand of hair on Charles' head.
"Pretty much," I reply. The how of it's in the same nightmarish realm as my bones. The kid doesn't need to hear the down and dirty.
"Some it's come back on its own; a lot with help from your mom and Professor Xavier. But today; seein' the portrait of my grandfather brought one back; a bad one. Plain and simple, it freaked me out…."
My gaze shifts to my wife. I hope she can see my remorse, "…and I took it out on your mom." Her tender smile portends hope that I'm at least partly forgiven.
"When they come back; you're memories, does it always-- is it always like that?"
"No. Not always. Depends on the memory."
Susie chimes in, "Remember when you and Logan were goofing off about geeky Halloween costumes?
"Oh yeah and he got out that picture from when he was a little kid?"
"Exactly. You helped trigger a good memory. But yes, Matt, when it's a bad memory it can be very traumatic."
"Mom, has Logan every freaked out in front of you like this before?"
"No. Not like this."
Only by dumb luck that I ain't. "Matt, I usually get nightmares."
She immediately adds, "And when he gets them, which doesn't happen too often, I just give him space and life goes on."
Right darlin', life goes on. No big deal. I'll remind ya o'that next time ya bitch me out for ruining those fuckin' four hundred dollars sheets ya insist on. Ah, shuddup stupid! She's handed ya more get out o'jail free cards in the last few minutes than you'll ever repay.
"How did you loose your memory?"
Fuck! It's time the kid found another ass to chew on. I've had it and I'm out o'clever obfuscations. "Matt! It's complicat—"
"Logan," Susan interrupts calmly, "it's ok. Tell him."
Scowling, wondering if she's demented; I just turned myself inside out. Whitewashed somethin' I didn't think could be; put her on the spot with her own kid and she wants me to do what?
"Logan, we've both had to come to terms with a terrible common legacy. The repercussions are probably going to be with us forever and I see what keeping secrets and denial has done to you; to your family. I won't allow the same pattern to continue with us. Matt deserves the truth."
Plunking down in the chair, dumbstruck; ain't getting a headache; got a skull splitter. The truth! Whose truth? Yours? Right darlin'. Explain dear ol' Uncle Jason. Explain who masterminded the global brain freeze last year.
Mine, eh? Sure. I'll tell him how they boiled my innards with molten metal; mind fucked me with drugs and telepaths and shock therapy. Do ya really want me to blow the lid off the kids' innocence like this? Well guess what? I fuckin' can't do it. I won't do it. All I can do his shake my head.
The tension's so thick Matt would have to be retarded not to feel it. Neither Susan nor I miss his fidgeting.
"Logan? May I?" Her tone's deferential
Words fail and I nod solemnly.
Leaning forward, commanding Matt's attention, she's all business, "Logan's memories were removed from his mind.
"Wha—?" the boy's jaw drops to his lap.
"Just listen, son. Once I'm through explaining, the subject's going to be closed. Do you understand and accept that?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Good." She looks at me and exhorts, "Logan, feel free to jump in or correct me if I get something wrong."
"Yes ma'am," slips out and I ain't being smart assed.
"A team of Canadian and American militarists and scientists established a task force; just as Logan said earlier, to combat terrorism, specifically mutant related terrorism."
She looks at me. So far, so good and I nod. Knock y'self out, baby doll.
"Along the way, what had been a legitimate and beneficial endeavor became corrupt. Logan had the misfortune of becoming involved then."
Involved? Wanna try shanghaied, darlin'?
"When he tried to disassociate himself from it, they basically held him captive."
Hunted me down like a dog. Kept me in a pen that made the Hanoi Hilton seem like a Michelin five star resort.
"They used a myriad of complex brainwashing techniques," Tears pool in her eyes, "to expunge his memory and control him."
The kids' wide eyes darted between me and his mom. "You mean like a robot or a zombie?"
"That 'd be it," I reply. But we won't mention the part about unstoppable killing machines; minor details like that, eh.
"Eventually, he escaped and it's taken him almost two decades to recover some of his memories." Pools spill down her cheeks, "He may never recover completely from the trauma."
Matt's dazed. "Mom, was your dad one of the guys who had stuff done to him or did he do the stuff to Logan?"
She had to know it was coming but Matt's question still hit her like a bayonet to the heart. "My father," her voice hitches, "was one of the masterminds behind it." Covering her face with her hands, she weeps.
That's my cue to get beside her. Pullin' her into my chest, I don't care in the least that another flannel shirt's a designated snot rag.
Matt wraps his arms around his knees and rests his chin, "Fuck!"
I haven't the heart to bust him and over sobs, I don't think Susie heard. "Matt, remember I told ya downstairs that something had messed me up?"
"Uh huh."
Comforting my saving angel, I try and explain, "Well, that's what it was and every now and then somethin' sets me off. You're mom's probably right…."
Matt's startles to the trill of his cell phone. He rolls his eyes and sighs, "Yes sir. Dunno." He glances at Susan, "Mom?"
"Yes," she sniffs.
"It's dad. He wants to know if I'll be on the flight."
"Oh bother!" She pulls from me and wipes her eyes on her sleeve; another one o'my shirts. "Tell him I don't know."
"He wants to talk to you."
I've had enough of super dick and intercept the phone. Susie looks panic stricken but I shake my head and mouth, 'trust me.'
"Allen, when my wife say's she doesn't know, that's just what she means. Do us all a favor and…" stick it up you're ass… "back off a while longer." Damn! I'm proud o'myself.
"Time is of the essence. If I need to change the voucher I need to know now."
"Right." Time to disconnect cuz I've just used up my last measure of diplomacy on the turd. He's right though. Gotta make some decisions. It is time to bug out. All o'us." The phone trills in my hand. Can't guess who it might be. Cradling it in my right hand, with my left fist, I slam several hundred pounds per square inch of adamantium down. The screen separates into a spider web of cracks, the key pad implodes and it falls silent.
"Logan!" Susan exclaims. There's a twinkle back in her eye and I don't miss the twitching lips.
"Oh man! My phone," Matt complains.
"Don't sweat it. I'll getcha a better one." Talkin's over. Time for action. "Matt, I want you to pack your stuff. Susie, same for you. We're going back to Westchester tonight."
"Oh, hold on a second Logan." Susie cuts in. "If that's the case, that's fine but lets put Matt on the plane to Miami. Salvage some of his holiday vacation. Please."
Ain't in the mood to negotiate and I almost say something stupid. Bottom line though; it's her kid. "'Kay." Turning attention to Matt, "Thirty minutes?"
"Uh huh."
"Git to it."
As soon as Matt's out my take control attitude vanishes and I flop down next to Susie again. Wrapping my arm around her shoulder, I murmur, "I am so sorry."
"Me too."
I lift her chin and bore into her blue eyes, "And so grateful."
Her brow knits with questions.
"Ya saved my ass, darlin'."
"I hope I did," she lays her head on my shoulder, "I don't think it's over though."
Feeling beat up, I lean my head back, "Me neither." We're silent. Don't know what she's thinking but I just wanna quit thinkin'. After a couple minutes, I snap, "Allright! Shall we get the hell out o'here?"
"I suppose," she sighs and hauls herself off the couch with a weary groan. "Logan it's getting late. I think I've really over done it today."
Intent on action, I'm not hearing her. "Got the airline numbers programmed in your cell?"
"Yes. Any chance we might leave first thing tomorrow?"
Grabbing her cell from her purse on the nearby table, I scroll for the number. "Darlin' I won't stay here tonight. I can't."
"How about a hotel then?"
Punching the keypad to automated prompts, I ain't listening to her. Getting to the selection I need, I'm greeted by a message that I don't wanna hear. "Son of a fuckin' bitch," I explode almost trashing her phone.
She sounds exasperated, "What's wrong now?"
"All flights are cancelled from Brunswick, Maine to Charlotte, North Carolina. Fuckin' snowstorm's got the east coast shut down."
"Lovely. What now?"
"Guess hotel's it."
"Guess it is. Gimme a hand, Bright Eyes."
She does sound exhausted. Her scent's tinged with pain again. "You know," she says stuffing clothes into her rolling case, "if the storm's that severe, it may be a few days before we can actually get back. Have you thought of that?"
Fuck! Yeah, I thought about it. "Can ya handle putting some distance between us and hell and take it from there?" I ask while gathering stuff from the bathroom.
"Whatever you say."
"Whoa! Wait a sec. Just might get us out o'here after all." Grabbing her cell and punching numbers I hear a crisp 'good-evening' before the ring tone.
"One might accuse you of developing psychic powers. Logan."
"Whatcha doin' Charles? Sittin' on the damn thing?"
"Logan!" Susie whispers, "You're not."
Askin' Charles? Ya betcha sweet buns I am. Nodding, I shush her with a look.
"Hah!" Charles quips. "Not quite. Coincidentally however, I had just rung you." Abruptly, his tone lowers, "I fear we have a situation developing."
A situation? Timing's not the greatest but damn I could use an approved outlet to vent. Crack a few skulls, shish-kebab a few villains all in the name of savin' the planet! Yeah baby! "What's up?"
Susie casts a quick, curious glance at me.
"It's rather delicate."
Spit it out Chuck. "Ok."
"A few hours ago I received a rather mysterious call from Doctor Jennings asking for you."
For me! What the fuck? "And?"
"Of course I informed her you weren't available and inquired if I might be of assistance."
"Will ya get the point!" I grumble. Susie's studying me real close now.
Charles replies, "She declined but asked that I have you contact her immediately."
"Didn't say what she wanted?" Probably wants to know my whereabouts to slap that restraining order on my ass. Sue me for child support? That'd be rich.
"She! Who's she?" Susie says quietly.
Don't need an ex- skrumpy complicatin' anything else today so I shake my head and turn away. Ah! Feel the love; stabbin' me right between the shoulders.
"No. But something didn't seem quite right, therefore I took the liberty to track her with Cerebro."
"Charles, what the hell ya gettin' at?"
"Details are sketchy at the moment, Logan. Did you know Doctor Jennings is able to block telepaths?"
"Uh! Not something I remember but I'll take your word for it."
"Perusing what I could, I believe they're in significant danger and felt compelled to send a team to extract them. For obvious reasons, I prefer not to divulge the location."
"Just what kind o'danger we talkin' 'bout?" Got Susie's attention again.
"The kind of danger that follows Stanislaw Ruchinsky and Company."
"You are shittin' me!"
"Logan, what's going on?" She ain't quiet now.
"Ahem!" Charles responds. "Kindly brief Susan fully when we're through."
"No problem." Like I'll stand a chance in hell of not. "Ya want us back?"
"Not for the time being. I'll need to speak with Doctor Jennings. Once I understand the full nature of things, I'll contact you and Scott. Kindly activate your comm. unit and have him do likewise."
"Roger that, Charles."
"By the way Logan, what were you calling about?"
"Aarrhh!" comes out as a snort. "Was gonna ask if Storm could fly in and pick Susie and me up."
"Ah. I see."
"Yeah. Well, it's a moot point now. If somethin's brewing got no right using the Blackbird for personal business."
"Logan, if there's a need, personal or otherwise, I'll be glad to arrange something as soon as I know what we're dealing with."
"Nah! From what I hear the weather's bad. No point in riskin' anything. I'll handle it."
"As you wish. I'll be in touch."
Susie jumps on with both feet, "What was that all about?"
"Don't know yet."
"Don't gimme that, James Andrew! From the look on your face alone, it's serious."
"Maybe."
"Dammit Logan! You said someone's in danger? Tell me what's going on."
"Susan, Charles is sending the Blackbird to extract two mutants from some kind o'shit. That's all I got right now."
"Right. And?"
"That's about it."
Can see the wheels turning in her mind and she's got a sour look on her face to match. "You said she. Oh! No freaking way. She? She's Marla and Wendy."
"Yeah."
"Marla and Wendy are in some sort of danger? Does Charles think it might be related to the kidnapping attempt?"
"Babe, I don't know. Charles didn't say. All he's got are impressions from Cerebro…"
"Must be some impressions to send an extraction team in the weather they're having back home."
"You can say that. Susan, listen to me. As soon as Charles knows more he's going to contact us. Best thing for right now is to finish packin' up and head on out."
"Don't you think we should stay put? It'll be a lot more time consuming to rendezvous with Scott and then us at different locations."
I hate it when she right. Right or wrong, still ain't staying here tonight. Guess we'll stay in closer proximity 'til I hear from the boss. "Trust me, babe. It'll be ok."
"All right, I guess. Honestly Logan, I know….Uh!" she whimpers and clutches her side.
"Darlin'?"
Intense pain and fear saturate my senses. Before I can get to her, she cries out. "Logan!" and collapses into herself.
"Sue!" She's putty and I scoop her into my arms. Head lolling against my chest, eyelids flickering; an eerie, breathy moan escapes her lips coagulating my blood.
"Oh my god!" She's out cold. There are racehorses galloping in my chest. "Baby! Susan!" Feels like sand's being poured down my throat. What to do? Gotta get help.
Cradling her wilted body close, I sprint for the stairs. Bounding down two, three steps at a time, I'm raving, "Somebody! Anybody!"
"Mom!" Matt emerges from his room and thunders down the steps right behind. His voice cracks, "Mommy!" Scared pissless, just like me, he interrogates, "Logan what happened? What did you do to my mom?"
Do to your mom? That hurts. No that fuckin' infuriates me. I'd never hurt her. "Nothin'" I snarl and immediately regret it but fear's clouding reason.
Instinct's ramped into hyper drive. Raging in its dungeon, beast and man engage in psychic battle. Primitive urges versus reason creates a schism.
Protect my mate; the common thread shared by man and creature unifies us. But never fully subjugated, the animal re-asserts itself with a primal, anguished roar that echoes throughout the tranquil halls, "He-l-l-p m-e-e!"