2. Alec Misses His Shot, pt.2
Alec walked home in the wretched Seattle rain. He pulled his hood over his head and turned up his collar. He felt muzzy and stupid. But he couldn't be sick, Max was right.
He was just off his game. Feeling a little blue. Dumb town, he thought. It was wet and crappy yesterday, and it'll be wet and crappy tomorrow. He reflected, and not for the first time, that it was stupid to stay, gradually being lulled into a false sense of security. One day the hammer was going to drop, and he would kick himself for not getting out while the getting was good. For the time being, he was stuck in the hot zone, flying in the grass, and torpidly circling the fringe of Max and Logan's lunatic crusade.
Only a few months ago, he had stood on a hillside in the grey night, horrified, watching Manticore and everything he understood about his life go up in flames. He was on the outside, alone and on the run. America was a neo-fascist police state, lurching along in eternal economic depression. Alec made a plan to put together some quick cash, beetle on up to Canada, and dig himself deep underground. His plan had blown up in his face, frankly amazing him. He had been briefly captured by Ames White, the whack-job in charge of mopping up Project Manticore. White had tagged him with an explosive device.
Max had used the last of her cash to bankroll the procedure to remove White's bomb from the base of his skull. Alec had been totally flummoxed. The gesture seemed to come out of left field. He knew now, that was the way Max operated.
For a moment, he thought wistfully of their first meeting. Max had been in lock-down, only recently recaptured by Manticore. Entering her cold little cell, he had covered his apprehension at coming face to face with one of the '09 escapees, an unrepentant traitor. He announced they had been assigned to be breeding partners. She had kicked him across the room. He never did get a piece of her action, and she had made it plenty clear since that she was holding a torch for Logan.
Max was exotic, enigmatic, and exactly what Manticore had ordered from the lab. In her element, she was a leader. A great lateral thinker, she was tough and charismatic. The rank and file would follow her into the fray, and smile lovingly at the thought of her as they lay down their lives. No wonder Manticore couldn't control her.
Of course, the big con was already in play. Infect her with the retro virus, give her brain a scramble, and follow her back to her honey, the subversive cable hacker and thorn in Manticore's side, Eyes Only. The virus was genetically targeted to Logan's DNA. All Alec had to do was watch him die.
Alec didn't consider himself responsible for any of that. He'd been following orders. If he had a spark of the genius that produced Max's rebellion, it had been painfully cauterized through torture and indoctrination. He was peeling away that ugly mass of scar tissue, but he didn't yet know who he was going to be.
His designation had been X5-494. When Max gave him his name, Smart Alec, she was being flip and seditious. Strangely, he found himself wanting to earn it, and his life as well. Not to mention that the suck factor in owing Max his life was huge, nightmarish, even. Alec had never before experienced personal obligation; it bothered the hell out of him. He compared it to reaching for his rifle, and having it morph into a snake. He needed to pay Max back in a big way. He wished Logan would get buried alive by a psycho, or something good like that. Then he could rescue the jerk, and hand him to Max on a silver platter
Alec privately thought of Logan as a sanctimonious techno-geek, with a self-imposed mission. He had a certain amount of trouble getting that Max couldn't see her way clear to throwing a bit of spice his way while she waited for her chance with Logan. Helping out another soldier, and all. He didn't see why it should interfere with her yen for wheelchair-guy. In his mind they were two totally separate issues.
She was lonely. Apart from the drone of her tires, the night was calm. The street was wet and black, reflecting the pulse of neon signs. She could hear the faint buzzing. She rode her motorcycle aimlessly.
She knew she wasted a lot of time. A normal person would sleep away these hours, releasing themselves into the respite of their dreams. Max didn't need to sleep, and habitually went days without sack time. Unfortunately, that meant she was never very far from the cares and difficulties of her life.
Sometimes, she thought about getting a hobby, or studying, but Manticore had ruined structured activities for her for all time. All she wanted was an unlimited amount of time to inhabit, to do exactly what she was doing now, nothing.
She wasn't like Joshua. She didn't have the soul of an artist. She didn't like to read. Even Alec went over to Joshua's to play piano from time to time, although he didn't know she knew. She couldn't play an instrument, and had no inclination to learn. She didn't feel settled enough to take on any big projects. She was waiting.
OC, Sketchy, even Normal, they were real people. They all had lives. The little things that made up the rhythm of average day-to-day life, she never learned any of that. Most people were genetic grab bags, capable of surprising you in a thousand different ways. She had been designed in a laboratory, cooked up in a test tube. She had a blue print, and it said one thing: advanced infantry. She had been born and bred to be the perfect soldier. Her phone buzzed. She got it out of her pocket and tucked it between her chin and her shoulder. "Yeah," she said.
"I knew you'd be up." It was Logan. "Come on over, I've got something cooking."
"Okay." She hung up.
She felt a little warmer. Pleased. It would be nice to have some company.
There's always the Asha angle, Alec was thinking. That was the cat fight of the century waiting to happen. And over a dweeb like Logan! Was there no justice? What a stupid-ass soap opera. Alec hoped he was there when it all came to a boil. Asha was a cutie, too. Maybe he should offer himself as a gallant pinch-hitter, to help her while away the lonely hours as she pined for Logan, who was in turn, eating his heart out over Max. He filed that thought away for future reference. Ex-soldiers make great mercenaries.
He came around the corner, a few blocks from his house. Speaking of mercenaries, he spied a working girl on the prowl. She was pretty high-end, from the look of her. With masses of glossy black hair, and a long leather coat over a shiny mini dress, she was altogether a tight little package. Too good for the neighborhood, but a fine cure for a fine fellow who just happened to be in the dumps.
"I'm looking for a party," said Alec, approaching her. Love was for suckers, and all girls were the same in the dark.
She looked at him for a moment. "You've got the wrong idea," she said.
"You're the one standing under a street lamp," said Alec. "In the rain, no less. You make a very pretty picture." He gave her one of his most winning smiles. Maybe he could keep his wallet in his pocket. This could be his lucky night after all.
"I don't need a man," she said. She seemed to lose her train of thought.
"Honey, are you all right?" asked Alec. He didn't care about her troubles, it just seemed the thing to say.
"You know," she said oddly. "I'm lost. Isn't that silly? I've lived in this town all my life."
Alec sighed. She was a kook. "Where are you going?" he asked. "Excuse me if I made a mistake. I thought you were on the stroll."
The girl shrugged helplessly. "I can't seem to think, is all."
"I know a place," said Alec. "It's warm and dry. I'm not going to bother you."
She took a step toward him. "You smell good," she said weirdly.
"Okay,"said Alec.
She seemed to give Alec the once over. He was a nice-looking guy, and so obviously harmless.
"I guess I could use the company," she said. "But I'm warning you, I have a black belt."
"Sweetheart," said Alec, propelling her with a gentle hand on the small of her back, "from the moment I saw you, I knew you were a killer."