Max took over the driving again. They drove on, across empty roads. Speeding wasn't monitered much anymore, so Max gunned the engine and they sailed through the dark. The air was dusty and dry. Max rolled the window down and the breeze played through her hair.
"So there really was Project Manticore." Chris's voice broke the silence.
"Yes. I was part of X-5."
"Yeah, Eva said that."
"I don't know how far it went after that."
"Was it really as horrible as everybody says?"
"I don't know what they say. But it was like drowning, everyday. It was hell."
"So you ran."
"So we ran." Max smiled at the memory. "It was so cold. Eva got shot that night, you know, by Lydecker."
"So what happened?"
"She stayed. We all thought she was dead. But we ran. Twelve of us got away."
"Thirteen," Eva's voice came, slurred by drugs.
"No, Ev, it was just twelve, remember?" Max quickly ran off the twelve names. "Unless you count you. Then, I guess it is thirteen. Or Jace. She got away, too. But at the time, that night, it was only twelve."
"No, Delsa too." This last bit was whispered almost silently.
"Delsa?"
Eva attempted to not her head.
"Zack never said anything about her."
"Maybe he didn't…. he didn't….know…." Eva's voice was weak again. She was about to slip back under again. "She's… she's out there."
Max was struck by this, startled. It was all too much. Not now. She pushed it away, to be dealt with later.
+++
She and Chris continued to take turns driving. They drove through Idaho in the morning. Eva's wound wasn't looking good at all. She was drifting in and out, but neither Max nor Chris really knew what to do for her. Max fell into troubled sleep. She felt Chris touch her gently.
"We're almost to the city limits. What now?"
"We've got to take her to a hospital," Max said, tilting her head towards Eva. "Metro Medical. Um…Turn left after you get through the checkpoint." Max sat silently, speaking only to tell Chris when to turn. They pulled into the Emergency Room parking lot, and Chris gently roused Eva, who quietly moaned, and carried her inside, Max trailing. The woman at the admissions desk looked up, startled.
"What happened here?"
"Gunshot wound."
This attracted the attention of a nearby doctor.
"Okay," he said. "Bring her in here." Chris followed after the doctor with Eva. Max turned to follow them. The admissions lady stopped her.
"I need you to fill out these form, if you could," she said, shoving a clipboard into Max's hands. Max went over to the waiting room. She glanced through them. Medical carrier? Don't know. Personal physician? Don't know. Allergies? Don't know. Last Name? Don't know… Max sighed. She still didn't know anything. She wrote "Eva," then scribbled in a last name. Age? She took a stab. Next of kin? Max paused, then wrote "Max Guevera" and jotted her pager number next to that. She filled in a couple other blanks that she thought would make the admissions woman suspicious if they were left empty. She carried the clipboard back to the desk and let it fall with a clatter. The woman looked up again, slightly annoyed. Max turned and went back to the waiting room, then over to the payphone. She rooted through her pockets looking for quarters, suspecting Logan probably wouldn't appreciate another collect call. She dropped in a few coins and listened to the ringing. Logan's machine picked up.
"Logan, it's me. I'm back. Well, I'm at Metro Medical. I'm coming by later." She replaced the receiver and glanced up to see Chris approaching with the doctor.
"Are you the next of kin?" the doctor asked.
"We're sisters."
"Hmm… Well, that was some wound. It's old. When did it happen?"
"About a day ago. I think."
"Why didn't you bring her in when it happened?"
Chris interjected. "We had some, uh, trouble getting here."
The doctor eyed them both suspiciously. "Well, she's going to need surgery to close it up. It didn't hit anything major, just tore some muscle. There's really no reason for you to worry. You probably don't need to stay here. Do we have your number?"
Max nodded.
"Okay, then. We'll see you in a few hours." He smiled slightly. "Don't worry."
Chris put his arm around Max.
"You okay?"
"Yeah."
"You feeling better? All those drugs and stuff?"
She nodded. "A little tired, but I think they're wearing off. Finally."
"Hungry?"
"A little."
"Good. I'm starving."
They walked off to the cafeteria.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Sure, why?"
"It's not every day you decide to leave your entire life behind and go on the lam with two criminal, albeit gorgeous, genetically engineered killing machines."
"We're on the lam now?"
"Well, I've always been. And the US government doesn't really smile on people shooting their guys. So, yeah, welcome to the lam. How do you like it so far?"
"It's okay. It's not like I was leaving anything behind, anyway."
"Nothing?"
"Besides a my glamorous job as a peon and bowl full of goldfish, nope."
"No family?"
"My parents and my sister were killed when somebody firebombed our apartment during a riot. Totally random. Me and my little brother, we were at school. That's when we lived in New York. My brother lives in Canada with some relatives. I joined the military and got moved out to Gillette."
"You don't have anything?"
"Couple of friends, but not too close. My roommate will take care of my fish, I suppose. He'll be pretty pissed when he finally figures out he's going to have to cover all the rent on his own. Oh well. He's a slacker, anyway. Do him some good."
"Running's never easy."
"I'm not running. I'm walking. This was my choice."
Max smiled. "I've got this…this friend. He'll help you get on your way."
"There's one thing I regret leaving behind."
"Oh yeah?"
"Fender Strat. And I'll kind of miss my fish, too."
Max smiled again, laughing slightly. "You'll be okay. We'll get you some more fish, okay?"
He laughed at this, his eyes meeting hers, wrapping his fingers around his coffee cup. "You're amazing. Both of you. It's like this doesn't even faze you - running from the military is all in a day's work. 'I just got shot. Hmmm. Hit me up with some morphine.'"
"Well, they don't tweak our genes for nothing, if not to be amazing."
They sat in comfortable silence, sipping coffee.
"Max!"
Max swiveled in her chair. Logan. Her heart sped up instinctively, then she felt calm.
"Hey," she said coolly, as he came over. She suddenly found herself craving comfort, and practically lunged on him. He smiled and wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back.
"Hey," he said as she sat back down.
"Logan, this is Christian. Chris, Logan."
"Hey."
"Hey."
"Soooo," Logan said. "Care to explain any or all of this?"
"It was a setup. But not on Eva's behalf. She's been being set up all along. So I spent a few nights at everybody's favorite overnight camp, where Chris had the fine job of guarding my body, Deck had a fine time baiting me, Eva found out, Chris found out and got poked by his conscience, Deck shot Eva in the arm, Eva shot Deck in the leg, there was running and cursing and fleeing, after which we embarked on a simply fabulous roadtrip. And here we are. Or at least that's the Reader's Digest version."
"Well." Logan paused. "So how's Eva?"
"Doctor says she'll be fine. It went right through her arm. She wouldn't let us stop at a hospital until we got here."
Chris crumpled his empty Styrofoam coffee cup and stood. "Want to go back to…wherever we're supposed to go? Post-op?"
"Okay." Max stood and tossed her cup into the nearby garbage can.
