Chapter Fourteen: The Way Things Are…
Max and Matt stayed in Portland for several days after the discovery of the refrigeration truck, trying to come up with the next lead about where Manticore may have taken Logan. The second day they had picked up several sets of the same tire tracks that had been seen at the site where the truck had been found. It had been found in an intensive ground search of the roads near the rest area, on a jeep track barely large enough to take the widely tracked humvee's that Manticore was fond of using.
Matt had gone off to the local Police Department to confer with his friend and to go out to the site where the tracks had been found. They were very lucky, most of the tracks had been decimated by the wind and the weather. But one set of tracks had been caught in a spot of half dry mud that had formed in the ruts of the track and it was that mark that was leading them, hopefully, toward Logan's location. Matt's absence had left Max at the hotel by herself, and she had settled onto the bed, where she now lay on her back studying the ceiling.
She caught herself pressing her index finger again, and forced herself to stop. Her thoughts were all for Logan, wondering just what they were doing with him now that they had him. Her mind ran rabid with her own memories of countless experiments both when she had been a child and more recently when they had tried to get her to produce a wonder child for them. Countless experiments, introducing different viruses into her and seeing how she would react, breaking bones to see how fast they would set, mind wipes, truth tests. She spent countless hours running, drilling on techniques she would need to be a perfect soldier. All of that in just the nine years she had been in Manticore before her escape.
But how much of that would they apply to Logan? He was not a soldier, never was and never would be, in fact he adamantly disliked and rebelled against authority. He chaffed against authority on a regular basis, and had the entirety of his life. He had fought his status quo, balked against the cushy life he could have had oppressing others. He could have bought into his Uncle's line of work hook, line, and sinker. Hell his life could have been easier for it. But that was not him, his fight for what was right was the one thing that had set him apart from anyone that she had known in her life. There was no ulterior motive with him, just the pursuit of the truth, "And Liberty and Justice for All". She knew that was the reason she was attracted to him in the first place, he was as close to a pure soul as she had ever met, did what was right even when it meant sacrificing his status, or his personal feelings to do so.
In Manticore however, that lack of respect for authority would very likely get him killed in the long run. They tended to correct forcefully breaches of discipline and decorum, beatings and whippings were not an uncommon practice among the company commanders, and they were usually held in public before all the companies. She had a sudden sharp image of him lying helpless in the middle of a dark and dank cell someplace, his face bloody and swollen his body broken much like Kito's was. She shook her head trying to rattle the image out of her mind, "Please let him be alright," She muttered closing her eyes against the tears that threatened again.
She almost lost herself in her grief when a soft knock came at the door. Max sat up, quickly wiping the tears from her eyes and taking a deep breath to regain her control. She walked slowly to the door looking through the peephole. It was Matt and taking another breath she opened the door.
Matt looked at her and was about to speak when he noticed her expression, "Are you alright?"
"As good as can be expected under the circumstances," she replied evenly, "Please come in Matt," She added looking away and stepping back to allow him entrance.
Matt's look of concern deepened, "I think that you need to come with me."
"Why?" Max asked sounding both hopeful and anxious.
"We found where the trail led," Matt said simply and turned back toward his car. Max turned grabbing a jacket and the key to the room and then followed him, jumping in the car as he started and threw the vehicle into gear.
Max looked at Matt with some concern, but he ignored her penetrating gaze, driving in silence. Max's anxiety went up the longer that they drove, "Matt what's going on?" she finally asked after nearly an hour, unable to stand the silence.
"You'll see," he said as he pulled into a small dirt lot near the foothills. The lot was in the middle of a small meadow to the east the meadow gradually climbed up the low lying hills. The way had been nearly clear of anything but a few small oak trees that seemed to spring out of the grasses. To the north and south of them the Oaks became thicker, interspersed with an occasional fir tree. The lot itself was hard packed dirt surrounded by the summer browned grasses, and around the perimeter sticking out of the hard ground like bones from a corpse were several sections of what had once had been the perimeter walls of the building. No section stood over a foot high and the road directly faced a walless section of the ruin.
As they got out Matt finally said, "The department was able to trace the vehicles used in the abduction to here," He said spreading his hands and walking toward a spot that had obviously been disturbed by something.
Max looked down at the twin sets of treads from the front and rear tires dried into the mud at the low point in the road next to the lot. There were several sets of treads set into what had been soft dirt at the time, now only smooth ruts in the road. Only the one set remained intact, "You're sure that this is it?"
"The forensics on the type and wear of the tread matched what we found at the rest area," Matt said nodding.
She wandered around searching the lot and the road for some other clue, "There is nothing here…where did they go…" She trailed off as she caught sight of two parallel equal length depressions in the approximate middle of the lot, "They moved him by Helicopter…" Max said answering her own question in a barely audible voice, "Damn it."
"I know, from this point, who knows where they went," Matt said shaking his head.
Max turned away from the lot and slowly made her way back to the rental that Matt had gotten for this trip. She covered her eyes as she reached the vehicle leaning on it with the other hand for support. Matt walked back to her seeing he shoulders sag heavily and laid a light hand on her shoulder.
"I'm sorry Max, I wish I had better news," Matt said sincerely.
She nodded not looking at him then slowly moved toward the door of the car opening it slowly and getting in, "Get me out of here Matt," She said in a quavering voice.
Matt chewed on his lip a moment and then nodded, closing her door and moving around to his own, "We'll find him, Max," Matt said trying to encourage her.
She looked at him sharply, "Will we?" She shook her head, "We have NO idea where he went! He could be in Texas by now, hell he could be in Boston by now! We have no way to find out!" She started crying again.
"I don't think they went THAT far," Matt said in a small voice, but Max either didn't hear him or was ignoring what he had to say. They both went silent for long moments, Matt gripping the wheel alternating one hand to the other, "You want to call off the search?" Matt asked seriously.
Max looked down at her hands, and after a moment shook her head in the negative, "I think that it is time for me to let Tima or Zach take over…it is time for me to head back Matt," She said none too easily. "I have the baby to think about…I can't be exposing myself to this kind of stress."
"OK," Matt said ruefully, knowing and understanding the reasoning of her change of heart, "I'm going to stay, I have a thought or two about how we can find that chopper, and I am going to pursue this to the end. You have my word on that Max, I promise," She only nodded, "When I find something I'll call and let you know. I'll get my pilot to take you back first thing in the morning."
Logan sat in the corner of his cell his knees bent and his tender arms resting across them so that his hands dangled lax beyond them. He was staring blankly at the door across the way from him. His "Cell" was more of a padded room, something you would see in an asylum, starkly white, no furniture, with one small mirrored from the inside window. He was sure they looked in on him on a regular basis, testing his sanity with his isolation.
He reached up slowly running a hand over his shorter hair, to his great relief they had not shaved his head clean, as he had seen in Max's picture when she was young. It was SHORT though, not so much as a quarter inch of hair on the sides of his head. The top was only about an inch, it was a very military haircut and one more reason he was disgruntled about being here. Worse yet it made all his gray hair stand out starkly. He was in no mood to be reminded of just how old he was getting. They had also forced him to shave his face clean of his trademark stubble. He now looked like a completely different person. "Max would never recognize me," Logan grumbled under his breath.
He had been here since his arrival, a month and a half ago, ushered to a building that he had not been able to see from the tarmac when he had first arrived. It had looked like any other building on the complex, sand colored, three stories tall, lonely. Sparsely dotted along the heavy brick walls were narrow slits of windows looking more like an embattlement than a building. The inside of the building was cool and welcoming after the heat of the tarmac, and he had relaxed a little allowing himself to savor the temperature. They had swiftly moved to the third floor of the building, moving down a sterile bright white hall with identical evenly spaced doors along the expanse. Three quarters of the way to the other end they had stopped him, one of the Cadre Rojas opened the door and his escort forced him into this loony bin.
The only times that he had been out of here so far was to move the 300 or so feet from his cell to the laboratory that was quickly becoming his second home. There and to the infirmary when those experiments on him went wrong and they had to try to keep him alive, and sometimes just sometimes they let him shower, but not nearly as often as he would have liked.
They had removed his shackles after about two weeks, after he had proved cooperative. He didn't know why they expected otherwise, what would fighting them constantly get him? More beatings perhaps. He had suffered through a few of those in his first couple days here. He had wiped the floor with his first group of escorts on his first day of going to the lab, all it had gotten him was a bloody lip, some cracked ribs and a hell of a headache, and they still had gotten their samples out of him. He hadn't learned his lesson after that beating however, he continued to test his guards and his new environment. After several rounds of fights with the Cadre he had started cooperating, just to go another day without seeing the infirmary, and that expressionless nurse who would work mechanically over his injuries. It was as if she had seen so much horror in this place, so much pain that she had switched off, doing what had to be done to treat her patients, but with no enthusiasm for her job, and no caring for their actual mental well being. He had even tried to talk to her a few times, most times she would not even acknowledge his statement. Sometimes she would turn her glassy vacant eyes up at him stare for a few moments and then she would return to her work.
He felt a little like a pincushion now, as many times as they had drawn blood, introduced pathogens, or gave him shots of boosters. Twice in the past four weeks he had been taken to the infirmary when he had been unable to fight off whatever crap they had introduced into his system. They were discovering that he had some serious limitations compared to the Biosynth's in their employ. His immune system was not indestructible, and he had not been tolerating the pathogens in his system his whole life as the others had. He had spent nearly two days straight puking his guts out on the worst reaction he had suffered. He had ended up on IV for another four, suffering severe dehydration as a direct result of the experiment, hardly able to stand even after the nausea had dissipated.
They had since then eased up on the frequency and possibly lightened the doses because he had not been sick since that time, that had been just over two weeks ago. More recently they had begun pushing him to the limit physically. He had been forced in the strictest interpretation of the word to run, miles upon miles on a treadmill, testing his endurance. They would push him to do the obstacle course too, always after hours, when none of the other soldiers were up, with decided exception to his heavily armed escort. They had yet to trust him to mingle with the rest of the small contingent of Manticore and Norm soldiers that existed here on the base. They were probably afraid he would corrupt them.
He came back to this little cell night after night sore and exhausted. And yet he never slept well, he could say only that he was averaging three to five hours of sleep on any given night and none of it restful. He wondered if he was inheriting that trait from Max as well, Max had rarely slept, and when she did it was always in short fits, or cat naps. Another part of him thought that it had something to do with his present surroundings, he was just too wound up being here that he was afraid to sleep, and when he did sleep there were the nightmares to greet him all over again.
His life had been filled with nightmares after Max's alleged death, and for the four years she had been gone. He had the brief respite from the haunting dreams after Max had returned to his life. Now they were back again, just as vivid as ever, nightmares of Max falling from the roof of a building just moments after being shot by Lydecker's men. Watching himself as he ran to her despite his own pain, cradling her dying body in his arms. He had started awake more times than he care to remember to that last heart wrenching vision of Max looking into his eyes and saying simply, "I'm getting too slow…" before losing consciousness.
And now he had a new chapter to that nightmare, etched just as vividly in his head as the previous, watching Max fighting for her life against her own sister. He was not awake when her fate was determined, and his mind had filled in all of the morbid details for him over and over again. His mind was full of scenes of her bleeding body lying on the hardwood floor, Bryn maliciously kicking her dying form, or wringing her neck until she was dead. Things that he didn't want to think about but unconsciousness brought all of his fears for his wife to vivid life.
Tonight he was not the least bit tired, on the contrary his brain was in overdrive. He was running all kinds of scenarios out in his mind, rearranging and discarding thoughts and half-baked plans in milliseconds. He had already seen some loopholes that a well-laid plan could get him slipped through the security here. But his problems always boiled down to the same thing, once he got beyond the gates where did he go? And how was he going to get there? They had chosen this base a little too well if their intention had been to thwart escape attempts. There was nothing for god knew how many miles, his view of it from the air confirmed that. He would last no longer than a couple of days in the middle of the nothingness he had seen, with no source of water. Escape was out of the question, at least until he could see a little more of the base and find some resources that he could use to further his cause.
He had seen nothing of the two women who had accompanied him here from Seattle since arriving, and with all the trouble they had went through to lose any trace that could be followed, their sudden lack of interest in him was odd.
Logan's eyes moved to the door as he sensed someone looking in at him, his frown deepened as he recognized the signature in his radar, there were six others. The lock turned and the door opened slowly Bryn, Torri and four soldiers entered the room. As the last of them cleared the door it was shut and firmly locked from the outside. Bryn stopped just two steps inside the door, Torri to her left and a little behind her, the soldiers from the Cadre fanned out around the two of them. This looked to be something of importance, at least to their mind. Torri was unarmed now, and dressed in a crisply pressed black fatigue with the Cadre Rojas symbol on her breast, matching exactly the rest of the group she was now with.
"Speak of the Devil," Logan said loudly, "I was just thinking about you," His tone heavy with sarcasm, his expression surly.
Bryn glanced sideways at Torri, who without hesitation sprinted the distance between them, barreling straight for him. He attempted to get to his feet before she got there but was unsuccessful. She grabbed him by the collar and lifted him off the floor slamming him heavily into the wall at his back, all before he could so much as bring his sore arms up to block her, "You will come to attention when you're Commanding Officer enters the room soldier!" Torri boomed looking up into his face.
Logan looked down at her smiling, that caustic streak in him flaring up again, trying to get a reaction out of her, "I'm not a soldier and I don't recognize her authority over me, or yours."
Torri swiftly brought up her knee connecting solidly with his crotch. Logan started to go down, his knees collapsing out from under him, as he gasped for breath and his eyes watered with tears of pain. Torri did not let him fall, however, supporting him by the collar of his coverall, lifting him back up again. "And no speaking without permission!" Torri growled, as she levered him up planting one hand in his abdomen and literally threw him into the opposite wall of his enclosure. Logan felt the wind go out of him, but honestly did not feel the pain of his impact, nothing was getting past the ultimate pain a man could suffer.
Logan rolled onto his back his teeth grit against the pain that was yet to subside. His eyes were open just a slit and he watched as Torri approached him again. "Get on your feet!" She demanded, watching a moment as he tried to breathe, "I said…" She reached for his collar again, "Get on your…"
She didn't get the last word out as Logan reacted grabbing her outstretched arm and planting one foot in her stomach effectively flipping her over his prone form. She landed heavily behind him and he was on his feet before she was. He turned to face her, ready for what she had to throw at him. She stood for long moments staring at him. He saw her glance at her leader, he quickly gazed that direction fearful suddenly of being struck from behind by one of the others. He was relieved to see that Bryn and the others were just standing there watching, seemingly assessing him. His gaze lingered a bit too long, and he was caught off guard when Torri moved back into the fight. He was forced back as she swung at him, poorly blocking the blow. He sucked in a pained breath at the stinging in his forearm where she had struck his bone. Torri didn't even pause as she jumped up. Logan countered ducking down and rolling under her flying kick and coming up as she landed. He moved before she could turn around kicking out into the back of her leg, hearing her cry of pain as the knee twisted the wrong direction. He moved in, intent on finishing the job when he heard, "Enough!" He stopped only a moment at the authority in Bryn's command, but moved again a moment later.
Logan froze as he heard the safeties come off the weapons, one suddenly very near his head. He straightened, glancing through the corner of his eye at the dark haired woman who was in charge of his fate.
Logan did not notice when Torri got to her feet and closed the gap between them. He was therefore unprepared when she retaliated with a forceful punch in the gut. He doubled over but did not drop as Torri had surely intended, "Torri!" The older woman boomed, "Enough!" She stepped up to the younger transgenic, lowering her voice to whisper grimly in her ear, staring at the side of her head "Or did Lydecker not teach you how to follow orders either?"
Logan looked up at the younger Manticore still facing but no longer looking at him, seeing the redness in her cheeks even through the dark tinge of her skin, "Forgive me Ma'am," Torri said quietly, embarrassed it seemed by her own reaction, "It won't happen again."
Bryn turned her cold eyes his way, "You are as good as they say…I must say I am impressed. The doctors tell me you ability and tolerance are about 90% of a born and bred Manticore. Not pathogen tolerant, but still, I never would have thought it possible for a human," She said it as if she considered herself outside that designation, "to possess even a tenth of that talent. That is promising, very promising."
Logan straightened crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at her. He desperately wanted to know just what she was going to do with him, but had too much pride in him to allow her the leverage of his desire to know. So he stood there arms folded across his chest staring alternately at the woman Bryn and her second Torri.
Bryn nodded over at one of the other soldiers who lowered his weapon and walked to her with a package of something. Bryn took it from him and then stepped up to Logan, she slapped the package into his chest and he reflexively closed his arms about it, "Some decent clothes for you to wear. Put them on." She said simply and stepped back.
Logan glared at her for long moments, then looked down and slowly unwrapped the package. In it was a green set of utilities and he looked back up at the older Manticore. He looked at the group surrounding him each face was expressionless.
"Now Cale!" Bryn shouted, causing him to jump despite himself. He glared at her again, but set the bundle on the ground and slowly proceeded to strip out of the coverall he was still wearing even after his month and a half here. Glad to be out of the garment, it was possible that the thing was going to start standing on it's own. He glanced up as he picked up the pants seeing Bryn watching him with one eyebrow raised and a smirk firmly set on her mouth. He quickly glanced away again feeling suddenly dirty and then pulled on the pants. They actually fit very well and he more quickly put the T-shirt on as well. He buckled his pants and then put on the boots they had provided for him to wear when he had arrived. It had been the only thing that they had given him to this point besides a set of exercise clothes. Those were only given to him when they intended to run him.
He straightened again crossing his arms over his chest, Bryn stepped back up to him again. She ran a hand down his left cheek, a look on her face that set his skin to crawling, "I am beginning to realize why Max fell for you." She smiled this time with a look of longing on her face. That dirty feeling he had experienced became worse with the knowledge, he suddenly felt like he needed a scalding hot bath, where a shower would have done before.
"Get away from me," Logan growled quietly, now angry.
She smiled at his reaction, then shrugged and turned away, "Torri, bring him. It's time he earned his keep around here."
"Yes Ma'am," Torri said crisply. Logan glared at her as she stepped up, but to his surprise she didn't try to touch him, she simply motioned him toward the door. He thought about refusing, but two things stopped him from it. The first was that Torri would surely be ready for that and more than willing to take him down for the humiliation in front of her commander. His second reason was that he desperately wanted out of this room, his mind was starting to justify the "loony bin" surroundings that he was trapped in.
He started toward the door, marking Torri's proximity to him just one step behind and to the left of him as he moved. Bryn led the way, knocking solidly on the door to alert the guard she was ready to leave. He heard the tumbler open and the door swung inward. The guards fanned out around them as they moved into that long bland hallway and Logan almost expected to take the turn just before the stairs as he had always done, into the laboratory.
He noticeably relaxed when they passed that door by and continued on to the flight of stars leading down to ground level. Logan blinked back tears at the brightness of the day around him, it had been so long since he had seen actual daylight. He paused just a little too long and received a shove to get him moving again, at the moment he didn't mind, the last thing he wanted was to return to that bright white padded room.
He was escorted back to the area he had been when he had first arrived and the group headed for the long building he had seen in the middle with the palm trees lining the front. The only place he had felt was any kind of welcoming upon his arrival. They stepped as a group inside the building. The place as it turned out was the commissary, or he supposed they called it the chow hall. The place was packed with people. Logan was in awe he didn't think this many people existed on base. All activity stopped as the armed contingent escorting a stranger came into the center of the room.
Logan looked around feeling uncomfortable that he was now the center of attention. Bryn looked around at them grimly and then motioned Logan forward. At the motion all eyes suddenly returned to their own trays. "These people are afraid of her," Logan thought to himself. That reinforced his growing dislike, no hate, of the woman who had been charged with the care of this facility.
Logan was escorted through the line getting a tray full of food that on any other occasion would have caused him to look elsewhere for something more appetizing. But at the moment he was starving, and even the runny bland looking food that moved freely about his tray looked like a feast. Bryn and Torri stood off to one side as the rest of the soldiers escorted him to a small table furthest from any exit. He paused a moment looking at the bland faces all around him, "Won't you join me?" He said sarcastically, he expected no reaction, and merely shrugged and sat down.
When his meal was finished he was escorted toward the line of barracks that he had seen on his arrival. They moved him into the lower level of the third building down the line, and what he walked into surprised him. He had been expecting, well something different from this. The room was small, compared to what he had built up in his head of a barracks room. He had been expecting to see hundreds of bunks lining either wall neatly made with drab footlockers at the end of each. Well in that regard it was much the same, only there were eight racks, and the room was only about 100 foot long and forty foot wide. There was a door at the other end and he was thinking that it was probably the bathroom.
There were six others in the room all standing at stiff attention in Bryn's presence. There was a huge disparity in age between them. There was one or two who looked to be Tima's age, one that seemed to be right around his own age and the other three ranged somewhere between those extremes. Two of the occupants were women and Logan immediately became uncomfortable.
"This is Unit 135, your new group," She said to him, and then turned to the board stiff contingent of soldiers, "This is Cale, he will be joining the unit. And this is X-8-222, she will be your new Company Commander, you will treat her with the same respect that you do me," She turned back to Logan, "I expect that there will be no more problems." She smirked, "Play nice!" Bryn said and turned to walk away. The Cadr Rojas followed in her wake.
Torri pause just a moment longer, looking over the group and then looked back at Logan, pointing a finger in his face, "One wrong move… just one." And then she too walked away.