AN: Yes! I am still alive and writing this! (touches head to ground and begs forgiveness for the long wait) School finals and projects gave me no time to write for about a month. I'm really sorry. If you're still reading this though, please leave a review. Now that my school is out for summer break, I should have more time to write. Oh, some of you guessed that the wounded transgenic was Alec. Sorry, but aside from maybe being mentioned later, Alec's not really in this story. The eight transgenics are Max and the remaining original escapees. I thought about putting Alec in, but decided against it because I really want to get the feeling of family across to my character. Alec's like a brother to Max now (excuse me M/A shippers), but he wouldn't fit in with the rest of them. I'm glad you read into it enough to make a guess though, I love your reviews!

Chapter 4

I wake up slowly, my head feeling like someone's driving a stake through it. The first thing that I realize is that I'm lying on something hard, namely the ground. The second thing I realize, which sparks about as much enthusiasm as the first, is that I'm not alone. There are scraping and plopping sounds coming from directly to my right, and low mutterings that slowly come into focus as I come to.

"I still don't see why we have to take him with us. He's not bugged or anything, and he hasn't seen a whole lot. Why didn't we just let him go?" This from a soft, light female voice that sounds more annoyed than concerned.

"Tess, come on, think. First of all even if we did let him go, he'd have no way of getting back to wherever he came from because now that we've moved him, there's no way he can have any idea where he is. Second, there's no guarantee that he'll even try to go back, for all we know he could just keep on following us." This one's a guy, and I'm getting the feeling that these aren't search and rescue workers.

"That's his problem. If the little weasel hadn't been following us in the first place, he wouldn't be lost." This from another male, and these are definitely not rescuers, but what else would they be? Who else would find me out here in the middle of the forest?

I open my eyes slowly and sit up a little bit, easing myself into a semi-sitting position. I'm in a thinner part of the forest than I was, but it's far from being a clearing. The sunlight still waning through the trees tells me that I've either only been out for a couple of hours, it's still not quite dusk. I don't know why, but the last thing I notice is the girl, well, woman staring back at me with the most unfathomable brown eyes I've ever seen. There are other people too, all around this little clearing, but she's the only one that seems vaguely familiar. It takes me a second, but then it hits me. The girl in the truck. Oh. My. God. I can feel the blood drain from my face, and I start to quiver.

"Y-you're a…you were the girl in the…you're an X-5." That's the most intelligent comment that I can manage as I scramble away on my elbows, anxious to put as much distance between it and myself as I can. I end up hitting my head against a tree, and through the added haze of pain, I can see its face cloud with a mixture of disdain and some other emotion that leaves as quickly as it appeared.

"You don't need to be afraid. We're not gonna hurt you." It tells me quietly. Whether or not that that was meant to be reassuring, it isn't. I'm way too caught up in the fact that I'm face to face with eight transgenic killing machines to be easily calmed on their say-so. A male with dark brown hair and eyes, who for some reason is caked in dirt, spares a glance at the girl before turning to me.

"We'll see. What were you doing following us?" If looks could kill, I'd be 6 feet under from the look this one is throwing at me. Half out of loyalty to my corporation, half because sheer terror seems to have taken a hold on my vocal cords, I keep my silence. It stares a moment longer, then shoots a triumphant look at the one who's still crouched on the ground, and to the rest of them, who have all dropped whatever they were doing to watch. The one on the ground glares up at the perpetrator, but the others' faces have all become eerily blank. They've formed a half-circle around the female, which makes that the leader I guess.

"What do you want from us?" I'm starting come out of hysteria enough to notice that while the leader's voice is just as demanding as the male's, it somehow manages to sound less likely to kill me if it doesn't like my answer.

"I-I don't want anything…I was just…I was passing through…"

"Cut the bullshit. You were following us. Who are you working for? White? Lydecker? Or has someone else decided it'd be handy to have their own collection of freaks?" It's voice takes on a cold, sarcastic tone as fire starts to build in its eyes. I start to sweat. I really don't want to push their patience levels, but I'm not going to say who I work for and get Hensky and the rest blown up or shot or something.

It seems to notice my current sweaty, quivering physical state. It stands up and looks down at me, fire turned back to stone.

"We're gonna have a long time to talk about this. We'll do it again another time."

Three or four of the others meet this comment with instant protest.

"Max are you nuts? We can't take him with us!"

"Do you have any idea how much he's gonna slow us down?!"

"You didn't even try to get it out of him…"

The words all distort and blend together as I sink back to the ground. A long time to talk about it. To talk, I have to be alive. They're not going to kill me. One very small voice in my brain adds a large 'Yet' to the end of the sentence, but I refuse to worry about that right now. I'm alive now, if I'm careful, maybe I'll stay that way. After a lifetime of taking that for granted, it's amazing how wonderful that seems right now.

The X-5s are starting to wind down out of their argument. The male that had spoken before casts one fury-filled look at me then stalks away. The head female watches him go for a second, then settles on her heels next to a tree, eyes closed. The others have all dispersed into two groups, one behind me, one in front.

With the overt hostility dying down, I start to feel comfortable enough to get my bearings. All together there're eight transgenics in the group, assuming that the one who left comes back. I hadn't been able to do a definite headcount in the city, but I'm pretty sure there were nine all together in the city. Maybe the one they rescued left already? Or maybe I didn't see one here…I wait for one of the transgenics in front of me to look at me, then make sure to maintain eye-contact as I rise slowly from my back and sit up. I do not want to have a misunderstanding with one of these things. It rolls its eyes at my efforts and turns its attention back to its group-mates. I breathe a sigh of triumphant relief. I'm making progress here. I look around me for any uncounted transgenic. The two that had gone behind me are now up in a tree, and there's no sign of the male that left, but that still makes eight, with nothing else around me except grass and a pile of dirt over to my right. Pile of dirt. A grave. Oh.

I don't bother to move around any more, no one bothers to pay me any more attention than to keep a cold, consistent eye on me. Like I'm really going to try to just make a break for it with seven trained killers as guards. Almost an hour passes this way, and with nothing else to think about, another reason to stay, other than the obvious, occurs to me. When I first woke up, they were talking about how I wasn't bugged, so I wasn't really dangerous. I'd check later tonight to be sure, but I'm almost positive that they hadn't found the S-15's. They were still on, and I was going to be able to get first-hand footage of them for a long time, until they decide what they're going to do with me long-term anyway. Eventually, maybe I'll even be able to get them talking, telling the truth about what the heck was going through their heads when they ran away from their masters, how they're planning on dealing with White, what do they really think of humans, the possibilities are limitless. By the time I get back, I'll be able to give an even better story than Hensky could have ever dreamed of. Provided that the X-5s ever let me go anyway.

I'm brought back out of my reverie by the unanimous turn of attention around me. Following their gaze as they start to stand up and move around again, I can see what I'd thought was a shadow slowly turn into the male that had most strongly wanted me gone.

" Terk he's scared already. You're gonna give him nightmares or something if he sees that." A troubled female greets him as he comes out of the woods.

"So what? Just because some spying little rat is following us around, we have to go out of our way to make him happy? Let him think what he wants, I'm through with that shit." The male is close enough now that I can see him clearly, and the object of the female's concern is immediately evident. There're several limp forms hanging from one of his hands. I close my eyes to fight a sudden wave of nausea. They were rabbits that didn't have a mark on them. It killed them with his bare hands. It went out and caught prey like an animal. Somebody tell me he's not going to eat them raw.

The crackling of a fire answers my doubt to the last, and calms me down a little bit, but I still can't seem to open my eyes. The smell of cooked rabbit begins to reach my nostrils with every breath that I take. Cooked rabbit that had just barely been killed. Breathing through my mouth is no help at all. It just brings hints of flavor. I'm still struggling with how to settle my queasy stomach without passing out from lack of oxygen when a light tap on my shoulder makes me jump about a foot. The same female who was concerned about what my reaction would be to seeing a fresh rabbit brought in and cooked is looking down at me with a crooked smile. Good to know I'm so amusing to them.

"Max told me to give you something to eat." She hands me a plate and cup that I hadn't noticed was in her hands. Water and some dried substance that looks dubious, but better than nothing.

"It's better with meat, but I was kind of getting the impression that you weren't interested in that." It raises an eyebrow in question. I nod mutely and it goes back to the others. They're keeping me prisoner, but giving me a choice of entrée. That's…weird. Not that I'm gonna complain. Even if whatever-this-is does taste like sawdust.

The X-5's are all bunched around the fire, three of them still carefully facing me. There's no conversation at all. An odd rippling uneasiness runs down my spine at the foreignness of it, but I try to shake it off. Measured in intrigue, this is a dream come true. I need to keep my head in the game. Intrigue never throws mental or physical comfort into the deal though. I lie down and try to find a comfortable section of grass. The stars are peeking though the spaces in the overhead branches. I start to locate and whisper the constellations to myself. Anything to drown out the silence.

There should be another chapter within 2-3 weeks. It varies according to how long this bout of carpal tunnel syndrome lasts, but I will try my best.