17. Your Little Dog, Too

Logan busied himself at his computer. "The day Manticore burned to ground was a good day," he said grimly. "I'm setting up a search for local reports of street violence, attacks of any sort." He kept his eyes on the screen. "Murders."

Max stood over by the window, looking out at the view. Rain. It was always raining. Her mind wandered. What a soft life, to live in a cozy place like this. She'd never lived anywhere pretty, or nice. If not for the virus, she thought, I could be living here in this apartment, with Logan. I could lie down beside him every night.

The thought was too painful, and she pushed it away.

"Max," said Logan.

"What?" she said sharply, feeling exposed. She looked back over her shoulder. Logan had wheeled away from the monitor.

"Talk to me, just for a minute. You're not a soldier anymore. You don't have to be so utilitarian all the time."

"I don't understand what you mean," she said with her customary bluntness.

"Max," Logan said slowly, as if speaking to a child. "If Alec has some kind of mental illness, it doesn't mean he's going to go off the deep end, cutting a swath through the civilian population, and leaving broken bodies in his wake."

Max crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly cold. "Logan, Ben pulled teeth. He pulled out people's teeth. Can you imagine?"

"No," said Logan. "And I don't really care to. But my point is--it doesn't have to end in a showdown in the forest, with only one of you walking away." He looked at her pointedly. "Alec has years of training on you, Max. Could you even beat him?"

She looked away. "You tell me what the alternative is."

"Treatment. First we capture him. We shoot him with a tranquilizer dart. Or a taser. Knock him out. Then set him up in hospital somewhere. There are doctors..."

"Doctors," Max snorted. "Like that'll work. He's too strong, Logan. And what kind of treatment? A shrink? As if!"

"Max, these are just suggestions. I'm trying to offer you alternatives."

Max paced in frustration. "Why are you talking like this, Logan? You don't even like Alec. I can't imagine any workable plan, and I'm pretty good at plans."

Logan said: "At the end of the day, I pretty much think Alec is a rat's ass. That's my bottom line here, okay? I wish he'd never come into our lives. But I'm not thinking about him. I'm thinking about you."

Max froze. She was no dummy, she knew what was coming. "Stop," she said.

"Max," said Logan, "I don't want you to have to make that horrible decision."

"Shut up," said Max.

"Max," said Logan. "Whatever happens, I have your back. You are not alone. You don't have to kill your brother all over again."

Back in '09, Max and eleven other members of her unit had escaped Manticore's Wyoming facility. Ghastly child soldiers with shaved heads, clad only in hospital gowns, they had run barefoot into the snowy night. To the extent they understood the concept, they had considered each other family. One of the escapees had been Ben, Alec's twin. Sweet Ben. Damaged Ben. Ben the insane serial killer.

It was more than she could stand. "Alec is not my brother," she said.

Her face shut down, but not before Logan saw a desperate flash of grief. There was nothing he could do. He certainly couldn't take her in his arms and comfort her, the way a boyfriend should. "Alec has your brother's face," he said. "It's a mean, crazy world. You always knew that."

She felt like crying, but it wasn't the right time to cry, not now. She was aching for the simple fact of human contact. All she wanted was to go to him in his wheelchair. She wanted to climb into Logan's lap, to seek solace. She wanted to bury her face in his chest.

Logan said, "We don't know what the deal is here, okay? So pull yourself together like a good little soldier." Max laughed a little, and it made his heart ache. "If Alec is sick, and if he's dangerous, maybe there's a way to contain him. Or even to help him."

"Logan," Max said. "Manticore didn't build him to drink martinis and romance the ladies. He's not here to peel potatoes. He's a killer. That's what he's for."

"And you Max," Logan shot back, knowing it was mean. "What are you for?"

Max just stood there. Finally, she looked away.

"Exactly," said Logan.

"Hey," said Max. "I just deliver packages."

Logan's computer made an irritating little noise. He wheeled around to look at the monitor. "Ah shit," he said.

Max came quickly in behind, careful not to touch him. "What?" she breathed. "Has he hurt someone?"

Logan cut her off. "No, Max. It's the Sector Police. Some guy reported being menaced by a monster. A dog-man."

"Joshua!"







To be continued. . .





Note:

I just wanted to take a second to thank those of you who have sent in reviews. So-thanks! It's great to know you're out there. I very much appreciate all the enthusiastic support. It makes a big difference when I'm going cross-eyed from looking at the monitor too long. You guys are terrific.