21. One or Two Legits

Original Cindy was doing some serious thinking. She couldn't do anything to help Max, not her own self. Not Joshua, neither. He was strong, but he was no soldier-boy fighter. Pretty soon Logan was going to be in bad trouble, too. That left only one option, and she didn't like it much. She had to ask Alec for help.

She didn't want to go near him. He was acting wild and crazy. But she would never forgive herself if something happened to Max and she hadn't tried to help. With shame, she thought about how weak and stupid she'd felt earlier, letting him shake her like a little rag doll. That wasn't who OC was, she had her pride. She was a strong woman.

That was why she was standing at Alec's door.

She didn't bother knocking. She pushed it open. She found him in the back room, curled up in a ball. She felt like kicking him, so she did.

"Wake up, dummy," she said.



Max found the stronghold without any difficulty. It didn't look like a fortress. No razor wire, no sentries. It looked more like a big old house, surrounded by trees. There was a wall, which she jumped easily. She approached stealthily, through the woods, keeping low. Maybe she'd caught a break; after all, White didn't know they were aware of this location. She was no longer interested in her investigation. The mission had changed. Her only objective was to liberate Joshua, and OC too, if she was still alive. She came upon the house. So far so good. She got down on her stomach and elbows, and inched through the brush, pushing herself forward with her toes.

There was eerie electric snap, and the entire area was illuminated. Flood lights. She jumped to her feet. Shadowy figures were melting seamlessly out of the bushes. She dropped into a fighting stance, but there were too many of them. In a moment she was surrounded by men, all of them in combat gear. Half of them were armed. The others assumed various postures, arms loose and slightly away from their sides. They were made all the more frightening by the fact that they were, to a man, expressionless.

This is very bad, she thought, as they formed a loose perimeter.

"452," said a voice, and she looked over her shoulder to see Ames White. "I knew you'd come to my party," he said. "I just had to send the right invitation."

She looked at him numbly.

With a cross draw he produced a .22, and without any preamble, shot her in the shoulder.

The impact drove her backward, and she fell on her ass. Panting, she tried to scramble to her feet. With the gun trained on her, White said tonelessly, "Stay down."

"Where's Joshua?" Max demanded. "Did you kill him?"

"Who?" he asked, with a faint smile.

"The mutant!" she screamed. "Where is he?"

"452," said White, "the only mutant here is you."

She got up into a crouch, cradling her wounded arm, one hand on the ground for balance. She was getting the picture now, and feeling pretty damn stupid.

"Did you kill Eva Vadas?" she asked tiredly. "Just so you could get to me?"

"Not me personally," said White. "But I gave the order. Because of you. So, one could say that you killed Eva Vadas."

Max was infuriated. Bad guys operated with an oblique logic peculiar unto themselves. Typically, they were fond of delegating blame. According to them, they never killed anyone unless Max drove them to it. Max was responsible for all the killing. The worst part of this particular scam was that it worked; guilt attached to Max like iron to a loadstone. She did feel responsible for all the killing.

"What about Smalton?" she asked bitterly. "Is he dead too?"

White gestured, and one of the Familiars stepped forward. He had white blond hair and dark blue eyes. He possessed an ugly beauty, reptilian and menacing. He stared at her out of hooded eyes.

"He's one of you," she said. She looked at him. She wanted to remember his face. Because of him, an innocent woman was dead.

"452," White said, with a certain amount of pity, "you really have no idea." He came closer and crouched down. He looked in her eyes. "Where is he?" he said. "Where is my son?"

She pressed her lips together.

White made another gesture, and Max threw up her hands to ward off what was coming.

Smalton hit her with the butt of his rifle. Then he hit her again, and after that she knew no more.





To be continued. . .