Chapter 3
Slowly, Logan opened his eyes. His vision was blurred, but he tried to look around. However, the very motion caused a throbbing headache, and he winced at the pain. He waited for a while, letting his eyesight return on its own, and he could see he was in a small room, barren except for his wheelchair in the corner. He was tired to a chair, and he could make out the sound of water crashing into the land. He was near the harbor.
The door in front of him opened, and he looked away from the brightness coming from the hall. The silhouette of a man approached, and gave Logan an amused look.
"So we have the mighty Eyes Only, felled by a common piece of machinery," he said, laughing.
"Walter Erhardt, I would imagine?" Logan said politely, letting the sarcasm slip into his tone. "I would assume you used a neural inhibitor on me. I have all the classic symptoms."
"Yes, it's a little toy of ours that's on loan from the military." Walter began walking around Logan's form, tossing the Fryer to himself. "It actually put you out longer than we anticipated," he said. "You've been out almost six hours."
"And what are you going to do with me – now that I'm awake," Logan added calmly. "Probably dispose of me like you do the immigrants. A nice, clean bullet to the head."
"Ever noble and poetic, aren't you?" Walter said. "You've been a thorn in our side for a long time, a long time. Other's, too. And now here you are, a prisoner."
"Your boss will probably like to meet me," Logan said. "He and I could have a few interesting chats."
Walter chuckled. "Now, why would I do that?" He moved in closer, leaning over and practically whispering into Logan's ear. "We're the only people who know about who you are in this room," he said. "And from what I've seen over the years, Eyes Only has a lot of information on a lot of people. If that information was made…available right now, I might consider letting you go."
Logan looked up at him. "It's a tempting offer, Mr. Erhardt. But…I'm going to have to pass." He could see Walter's face begin turning red. "You see," he continued, "I make it a point not to let information fall into the hands of heartless, corrupt, evil men such as yourself. Men who make a hobby out of finding ways to benefit from the ruin of others. I'm sure you understand."
Erhardt was shaking with a barely controlled fury. "Very well," he said at last. "If that's your wish, then I shall respect it." He began pacing again. "Let me tell you another hobby I enjoy. I enjoy watching people suffer. I enjoy watching people be pushed to their limits. I enjoy watching their eyes, when their broken" – here, he clenched a fist – "when their soul is destroyed, and seeing all life drain from them. I enjoy watching people die, Mr. Cale." He walked in front of Logan. "I'm not an evil man. I'm just persistent when I see something I want. And I want that information. We're about to test your limits, Logan."
"And how may that be?" Logan asked. "Another neural inhibitor?"
"No." Walter Erhardt shook his head. "I respect you, Mr. Cale. A man such as yourself shouldn't die with some technological device, or other such hogwash. You deserve a classic death." He grinned. "Starvation. One of the simplest tortures there is. I'll be back in the morning, and we can have another talk."
Logan watched Erhardt leave the room, closing the door behind him. He sighed to himself. More darkness. He only hoped Bling respected his wish: that all information Eyes Only had acquired would be destroyed.
~~~~~
I sat in a car, crammed between Max (which was good) and a guard (which was bad). I couldn't help reflecting on how safe cars were, especially when the driver wasn't a teen girl who refused to do below fifty, even through stop signs. Cars were good, safe vehicles. They had protection all around you. Not like motorcycles. I liked cars. Nice and safe.
"So where are we heading?" Max asked. We'd been forced into the car by the guards back at Erhardt's estate, and I had no idea where we were now. To my surprise, Max hadn't put up a fight, either. That didn't seem usual for her. In fact, it was the first word she'd spoken in twenty minutes.
"To the docks," the lead guard said. "Mr. Johnson is waiting for you."
"Cut the bull," Max shot. "We know what his real name is, and what he does."
"My dear," the guard answered. "You don't know the half of what that man does."
"Couldn't be all that bad," Max said, adopting a smart-ass attitude that under the circumstances I wouldn't have recommended. "He gets paid to deport immigrants, and kills them off to make room for drug shipments. What could be worse than killing people to turn a profit?"
The guard gave Max a full-body look. "He sometimes lets us keep the women."
He leaned forward to brush Max's face, but she grabbed his hand and glared at him. "Touch me, and suffer the consequences." She threw his hand back at him.
The guard looked furiously at her, but then calmed down. "Alright. I wouldn't want to get you two all riled up."
"That's probably a good idea," Max said.
"Oh?" The guard smiled. "And why is that?"
"Because," Max answered, "I might do something like this!" With that, she launched herself forward, twisting the gun away from him and punching him in the face. Another guard brought his gun up, but she saw him and kicked it away. In the narrow space, she pulled his body towards her and landed a knee to his stomach. Max looked up at me.
I was still sitting in the chair, and had been watching the fight right in front of me. "This is great! It's like Surround Sound!"
"Don't just sit there!" she screamed. "Do something!"
The guard beside me cocked his gun and aimed it at Max's struggling form, but I finally sprung into action. I grabbed it and shoved it aside just as he fired. The bullet went between the front seats and struck the driver, who slumped over. Immediately the car lurched forward as the weight of his leg pushed on the accelerator.
"It hit the driver," I muttered as I struggled with the guard. "Stray bullets always do." I sighed. "Should've seen that one coming."
The guard elbowed me in the face, and wrenched the gun away. But another well-timed kick by Max (who seemed to be everywhere at once) sent it flying out of his hand, where it landed safely on the floor. The guard dove for it, but Max dove for him.
"Get the driver!" Max yelled at my feet. "Slow us down!"
I maneuvered around their wrestling bodies to the front of the car, where I noted with some irony that the car was now speeding over seventy.
I reached around the body of the driver, which wasn't a pleasant experience, all the time wondering why all drivers could be taken out with a single bullet. It was more like a video-game than real life. Maybe that's what Cameron is going for with this show, I thought. I pulled the lever from "drive" to "neutral," and could feel the car begin slowing down. I grabbed the wheel and started driving, weaving past "yield," signs, "stop" signs, "do not enter" signs, "wrong way" signs, and red stoplights.
"What are you doing?" yelled Max. "Use the emergency brake!"
"Relax," I called. "I've got everything under con – oops."
"What?"
"Nothing," I answered. "It's nothing."
Max pulled herself up from the guard's unconscious form. In the background was the distinctive sound of sirens. She looked out the back windshield. "Did you just cut off a ambulance?"
"No."
Max glared at me.
"Well, they were in the way!" I cried. "Jeez, next you'll get after me for causing those two police cars to crash."
Max shoved me out of the way, reached across the body, pushed the door open, and hauled him out onto the road. She settled comfortably into the driver's seat and looked up at me. "See? Was that so hard?"
"No, but it was rather unsettling," I said. "His body might cause an accident."
She slowed the car down and pulled us over to the side of the road. We were both breathing hard. She turned to me. "Are you okay?" she asked.
"Oh, yeah, sure," I gasped. "Never a dull moment on Dark Angel. I just want to know what it is with you and motor vehicles."
She had to smile at that. "Come on. Now we know where Logan is. We'll leave the guard on the side of the road, where they'll be sure to wake up with a nice, sharp headache."
"I just can't get over the fact that guy is dead," I said uncomfortably. "The closest thing to death I've seen are dogs getting hit by a car."
Max had opened the side door when she looked up in surprise. "Really?" I nodded. "Well," she said, "death, unfortunately, is something that I've had to learn to get used to."
"The Manticore thing," I said understandably.
"And you were right," she continued, looking up to the night sky. "During dinner last night. I do have flashbacks to those days." She looked away. "All they wanted to do was make me a killing machine. I've tried so hard to leave that part of me behind. But it follows me, and it's putting people I care about in danger."
"You've done a good job, from what I've seen," I said, wishing I could make her feel better. "Better than other people. Zack, for instance."
Max turned. "You know about him, too?" she asked.
"He was a regular guest star," I explained. "And popular with Logan in slash fanfics. Don't really see the appeal. But anyway, that was until the season finale. They may bring him back, though."
Max shook her head. "Well, anyway, we still have to find Logan and rescue him." She looked at me. "There's sure to be more guards at the docks, and you aren't really obligated to help me. Are you still in?"
I grinned. "You bet." She turned the car back on, but I held up a hand. "However, this time I get to drive. Am I'm making damned sure I go the speed limit."
~~~~~
We arrived at the harbor around midnight. Max directed me to park in the woods a safe ways away, and we walked the rest of the way. I tried to keep up with Max, but she was fast and sure-footed, and acted like this was as easy as walking down the street. Probably is for her, I thought.
I could see the spotlights of the harbor off in the distance, shining through the trees. As we approached the edge of the woods, Max signaled for me to stop. We crouched and peered across the lot. "That must be the building," Max said, pointing over to a squat, two-story structure near the water's edge. "I'll have to go get him out of there." She pointed at me. "You stay here."
"Aw, come on," I whined. "We're nearing the climax!"
"Forget it," she said. "You've already helped me more than I would've thought possible, but right now I can't risk being seen. Your job is to have the car ready."
"You'll need me," I protested. "How are you going to get Logan out of the building all by yourself? He's not exactly as mobile as we are."
Max paused, and looked steadily at me for a while. "Fine," she said. "But stay to the shadows. Once false alarm and this whole little trip will be a waste of our time."
Slowly, we proceeded out into the parking lot, where we wove between the few parked cars scattered about. It was cloudy and pitch-black, which probably was a blessing if it didn't make everything look so creepy. The only light came from a few windows in the building, and the weak beams from guards' flashlights off a ways to our right.
"I don't supposed you know where Logan is in there," Max said, nodding her head in the direction of the building. "That'd make this a hell of a lot easier."
"Your guess is a good as mine," I answered. "Probably on the second floor, though. I think that's where he went the first time I saw this."
"First time what?"
"Forget it."
"Good then," Max said. "That way we won't have to go as far." She started creeping to the back of the building.
"What do you mean, 'go as far?'" I hissed, following her. "We'll have to go farther. It's the second…" I trailed off as she took a running leap and grabbed the bottom rung of an escape ladder, pulling herself easily up. "Oh… We're coming in down through the roof. Clever."
Max reached down with one hand while securing herself with her legs and other hand. "Come on," she whispered.
I jumped as I high as I could and she grabbed my hand. She lifted me up until I could reach the rungs myself, and I followed her up. She disappeared onto the roof, and as I followed there was a surprised shout. I could hear scuffling, and listened as several unseen blows were landed, followed by a thud. Max's head appeared over me. "What are you waiting for?"
"Just wanted to make sure you'd cleared the roof before I got up there," I answered wryly, crawling up.
Laying low to avoid being seen from the ground, we ran to the stairwell's emergency door, and Max jimmied it open with a special set of tools.
"Wow," I said. "I've seen those all the time on TV, but never in real life." Then I stopped. Oh yeah.
She pulled the door open and we entered the stairwell. "Quietly," she said, as if expecting me at any moment to break out in a rousing rendition of the National Anthem. We made our way down to the second story, and Max leaned up to the window and scanned the hall. Quickly she leaned back.
"What'd you see?" I asked breathlessly.
"Walter Erhardt," she said, "with two security guards. They were heading for the elevator."
She waited a moment, then scanned the hall again. "It's clear." She began jimmying the door open. In the hall, there were several doors on each side of us, and we didn't know where to begin. Max took the left side, I took the right. Several of the doors were unlocked, but the few that were Max opened with the tool.
"Stephen," she said suddenly.
I turned and followed her gaze into a darkened room. There, sitting in a chair, was Logan Cale. Max rushed to his side. "Logan?" she whispered.
Logan's eyes opened, and he focused on Max's worried face. "Hey," he said quietly.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Better." He smiled. "Now that you're here."
"Aw, that's so sweet," I said, walking into the room. "I wish I had a writer who could come up with romantic dialogue like that for me."
Logan looked up with surprise. "You brought him?" he asked.
Max smiled softly. "Yeah. He's been a lot of help." She inclined her head. "More than I would have thought possible."
"Stop it, you're making me blush."
Max wheeled Logan's wheelchair over beside him. "Come on," she said. "We've got to get going."
"How'd they find you?" I asked.
Logan pulled himself into his wheelchair. "Max's deception on the elevator was a good idea, but it wouldn't fool them forever. They just caught on quicker than I anticipated." He motioned to his surroundings. "And I paid for it."
"The important thing is, you're okay," Max said. "Now let's get out of here."
"Walter said he wouldn't be back to check on me until morning, but he was just here," Logan said. "So that may give us some time, but I'm not sure how much. He could come back at any minute."
I opened the door just enough to peer both ways. "Coast is clear." Max and Logan followed me out into the hall and down to the staircase, where Max and I began struggling to get Logan's wheelchair up the stairs.
I noticed how quiet Logan got during this. I knew it was because of his feelings of helplessness in the wheelchair, after having taken a bullet in the spine from that one guy in the Pilot episode; I couldn't remember his name.
"I know what you're feeling," I said quietly. "And don't worry. Things will get better in the future, I promise. Besides, think of what a role model you are to people all across the country."
"How could people all over the country know me?" Logan asked. "I hardly even have relatives outside of Seattle."
Oh, I think a few people outside Seattle know you. "Well, things will get better."
We got to the roof just as I became convinced I couldn't go another stair. Max, of course, wasn't even sweating. She directed Logan to the waiting rope, and helped him to a sitting position on the ledge. "Wait for me to reach the bottom," she said, and grabbed his wheelchair. She heaved it over the edge, and I heard it hit the ground. "Let's hope that thing wasn't manufactured in America."
"Ooh, a commentary on American businesses overseas," I muttered. "I'll bet the writers are patting themselves on the back for their cleverness with that one."
Max disappeared over the edge, looking strangely at me. I watched her slide easily down. On the ground, she moved away from the rope and looked expectantly up at Logan.
"That's, uh…that's a pretty long drop," Logan said uncertainly.
"I practically sprained an ankle falling from a tree," I answered.
"That's supposed to make me feel better?" He never took his eyes from the ground.
"Just go one arm at a time," I suggested. "Don't look at your progress. Just keep going, and you'll be down in no time at all."
Logan took a deep breath, squeezed his eyes shut, grabbed the rope, and fell back. Slowly but surely, he worked his way down the rope, with his eyes constantly focused on the wall in front of him. When he got to the bottom, Max helped him to a sitting position on the wheelchair.
I climbed over the roof, grabbed the rope, and slowly climbed down. Max was helping Logan into the bushes when I jumped to the ground. I pushed the branches aside and followed them.
We ran as fast as we could, for what seemed like ages. I looked up at the night sky, and wondered how late it was. Around 2:00 AM, I'd imagine. I hadn't slept in nineteen hours.
I suddenly saw the car appear in the woods, and I realized I hadn't been paying attention where I'd been going. Max had, thank goodness. She'd led us right around to the car. We slowed to a stop, and Max opened the passenger seat for Logan.
Then Logan placed his hand on hers to stop her. "Max, we can't leave yet."