••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Chapter Two: In Flight
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Nat stopped at the edge of the highway, choking for breath. The tears had dried on her cheeks, but her throat still felt thick and used. She inhaled the damp forest air and tried desperately to think, pressing her fingers to her temples: she had to have a plan. It wouldn't work to simply take off into a random direction and hope for the best. Lowering her hands slowly, she plunged them into her pockets to stifle the tingle that was emerging again.
Fight it, she ordered herself. Fight it, you useless little git!
Her fingers brushed over the slip of paper in her pocket. Her skeleton started to vibrate slowly and turned into a full-fledged convulsion of fear, and she stepped onto the edge of the narrow paved road to avoid tripping on clumps of earth as she shook. The urge to plunge into the darkness of the forest and never emerge was almost undeniable, and she fought the need to vomit.
Several meters up the road, a large red car took the turn on squealing tires and came suddenly into view, speeding toward Nat. The headlights were two yellow orbs glowing like giant, demonic eyes, looking all the more terrifying in her current state of self-effacing confusion. With a little gasp, she leapt into the bushes by the roadside as the car whipped past, two teenaged boys inside laughing loudly and hooting vulgar comments out the window. She felt thorns bite her skin and twist in her hair, and winced at her unbelievable run of bad luck. When the car continued on without stopping to question her, she let out the breath she'd been holding and delicately untangled herself from the brambles. Her bare shoulder had begun to bleed and she shivered slightly.
The night wore on that way for another two hours, when the first hints of orange and yellow began to creep up over the treetops in fingers of warm sunrise. It was going to be a clear day, and the lack of clouds made it brisk before the sun had been given a chance to warm up the world. Nat was lost in a shiver that was only partly from the cold and wrapped her arms around herself, but didn't put her hands back into her pockets to warm them.
It was still very early when she reached the first sign of civilization, a sad little motor stop that advertised cold Coca Cola and cigarettes on faded signs. At first she thought it was closed, but as she neared she saw a young man in a baseball cap sweeping the front step, stopping from time to time to send a tepid stream of reddish saliva and chewing tobacco into the ashtray beside the door. She started to walk faster, carefully averting her gaze, but the promise of something cold to drink and a bit of food to ease her aching stomach drew her nearer. Coins jangled in her back pocket, and her mind was made up.
The man, really a boy of no more than fifteen, smiled at her and tipped the bill of his hat as she entered the store. She nodded stiffly, hastily wiping the backs of her sooty hands on the butt of her jeans as she suddenly realized just how haggard she had begun to lookk. Bells tinkled on the door handle, and she smiled nervously at the middle-aged man behind the counter, who beamed at her from underneath a massive mustache like hairy gray arms sprouting from his upper lip. His hands rested lightly on a portly belly and he slurped black coffee from a large paper cup. By the way everyone was acting, she guessed that news of the fire hadn't yet made it this far up the road.
Her hands had continued to tremble, so she stuffed them into her pockets, remembering the newspaper clipping stashed there, and disgustedly pushed it out of the way with her thumb.
She cleared her throat and glanced at the man through a lowered gaze, avoiding eye contact and the potential for recognition. "H-have you got anything to drink?"
Nat was surprised at how steady her voice was, and she almost jumped at the unintentional loudness. The man chuckled.
"'Course I do. What can I do fer yeh? Got yer soda, water, juice, milk, tea. An' there's crackers and crisps on that stand by the door if yeh need summat to eat." He paused, looking her over slightly. Her consternation virtually radiated off of her in waves. He smiled, trying to lighten her expression. "If yeh'd wait a minute or two I could fix yeh a sandwich."
Taken aback, Nat stared at him. The urge to flee was quickly overcome by a growling in her stomach, and she nodded slightly.
"That'd be…really nice. Thank you."
She stood nervously in the doorway as the man disappeared into the back. There was a rustling of packages being opened and a clatter of knives and mayonnaise jars, and he reappeared carrying a small paper bag. He handed it to her over the counter and she traded him a small pile of coins and crumpled, small denomination bills.
"It's all that I have. I could…finish sweeping the steps or something, if you'd like."
His smile was smooth and grandfatherly under his mustache, large yellow teeth peeking out between the fuzzy lips. "Don' worry. Yeh sorta look to be in a bit of a rush. Grab yerself a drink, too. There's a couple Wet Naps in there so you kin wash yerself up. Yeh really shouldn't go campin' unprepared next time, young lady."
Just as she turned to leave, she felt a gaze on her back and turned. He looked indecisive for a moment, glancing uncomfortably at his watch and at his shoes. Rubbing awkwardly at his beard, he added in a hushed voice, "Be watchin' out for people on that road. They usually don't keep much of an eye out 'long this stretch, or me boy wouldn't be comfor'ble workin' out in the open like 'e is, bein' pretty, uh, shy. But lately people been a little jumpy, so watch yerself. It's been awful hot round here, after all."
"Um…thanks," Nat whispered, a waver in her tone. She was feeling guilty, confused and supremely grateful. Nodding slowly, the lump in her throat again threatening to overcome her, she forced out a choked laugh. As she slipped silently out the door her tears had already started falling again, and the boy with the broom stared at her in puzzlement and intense interest. She moved past him quickly, averting her eyes.
"Wai—wait a secon'."
She paused, the paper sack crinkling as her hands curled tightly around it. A long, drawn out silence stretched between them, the frightened girl staring at the boy with reddish spittle clinging to his bottom lip. He nodded slightly but did not smile, his eyes wide and unblinking as he stared at her.
"Yeah?"
"My da is right. Be real careful." He gave her a terse nod and swiped sharply at the steps with his broom as if to emphasize his point. "No' too many people understand these things."
With a half-smile, he whipped his cap off of his head and slapped it onto Nat's skull. She stared at him, perplexed, but he just winked. "There. It looks good on yeh. You're an all-new girl."
By the time she'd made it back out to the road, this time a little better concealed by the trees and the sweaty cap drawn low over her eyes, the yearning to rip into the bag and wolf down some of the food was almost irresistible. Her stomach gurgled and churned, a strong hunger that she hadn't been aware she had finally reawakened by the promise of food. She pulled the sack open at the top and glanced inside. Along with the glass bottle of orange juice that she'd grabbed on her way out, there was a banana, a square shape wrapped in tin foil that she assumed was the sandwich, and two peanut butter cookies nestled in a paper napkin. She nibbled on half of a cookie, and put the rest away with an unhappy little groan.
In the early afternoon, she made it to town. Which town it was she didn't know; she'd gone the opposite direction from her old home in Hawthorne. It was smaller than Hawthorne, with neatly painted houses and a small library behind a picket fence. Children were playing on front lawns, shrieking and chasing one another, smeared with dirt and the sweat of play. Still a bit anxious about being spotted, the sheer number of open walkways and large windows made her nervous, but the tree-lined sidewalks were pleasant enough. Along the way, she'd picked up an oversized men's flannel shirt from a donation bin (feeling only slightly bad about the act), and was no longer at risk of freezing. Luckily, spring was rapidly nearing and she wouldn't have to spend many more cold nights on the run. Her body's demand for nicotine was beginning to make her irritable but her lack of finances and fear of being spotted at another store halted her desire to make a pit stop to purchase any herbals. After an unpleasant encounter with a stray dog, she spent a few minutes mourning the loss of her sandwich and moved on through the town.
The sun shone brightly and there were not clouds in the sky, save a few whispy shreds of cottony down at the horizon. Beyond the picket fences, daffodils and violet crocuses were pushing up through the soil, and the air smelled pleasantly fresh with the bite of a lingering chill. She passed people on the street, but none made any indication that they recognized her. There was still the chance, then, that people weren't yet looking for her. Hadn't Lily gotten up after she fell? And if she hadn't, if she had lain there and died, had Morgan and the other girls not told what they had seen?
Nat shivered and pushed the unpleasant thoughts from her mind.
Walking down what she assumed was the town's main street, Nat noticed a small alley between a grocery and a shoe store. The perfect place for a nap, she thought happily, which made her wonder briefly about her distorted conception of what constituted "perfect" and pondered how long it would take before the idea of sleeping outside didn't bother her at all anymore.
The alley was clean and well-kept, another plus in Nat's book. Half a dozen milk crates were stacked in the corner, and she laid them out in two rows of three, like a little bed. The flannel made a decent pillow, and after she'd eaten the banana (now badly bruised from transit), she fell asleep almost immediately.
Her sleep was deep but her dreams were troubled. There was fire, lots of fire, and she was in the middle of it. Her skin was cool to the touch, but inside there was a burning heat. She waved her arms at the people on the other side, screaming for help, crying that she couldn't get out. Lily was beside her, crying out for her mother as she herself was crumbling to ash. Outside the flames, Morgan stood staring at her with horrified eyes, screaming "mutie!".
The heavy-set man from the store was watching her intently through the flames, repeating something over and over that sounded like "give it a go" and "what's the worst that could happen?". With that gentle smile, he reached into the fire with a long arm that seemed to stretch until it was before her, and began to twist and twine until it was thin and flat like a piece of paper. Newsprint spidered across the surface and Nat took a terrified step back, further into the flames. The words seemed to glow with a strange phosphorescent light, and through the thick haze of smoke she could make them out.
"Give it a go."
Nat woke with a start, her heart pounding like a prisoner in her chest. The sky had begun to darken again, and she got to her feet with a mumbled curse. Tossing the flannel over her chilly shoulders, she set off from the alley and pointed herself in the direction of the coast. Deep down, she knew that's where she'd been headed all along.
Sighing, Nat took the newspaper clipping from her pocket and examined it as she had so many times. It was only about a dozen centimeters long in each direction, and much of that was taken up by a black and white photograph of a woman in a white lab coat standing beside a pair of gleaming metal doors. Her colored lips were drawn into a friendly smile and her dark hair was being tussled by a brisk coastal breeze that Nat could almost taste in the air. The words beneath read "Moira MacTaggart, bio-geneticist and the foremost international expert on mutant physiology and affairs, welcomes the reporter to her Muir Island Mutant Research Facility". The rest of the words were blurred and smudged by almost a year of handling, but Nat knew them by heart.
Natalie Elizabeth Fairbanks folded the paper neatly and returned it to her pocket with a protective pat.
"Okay, then. I'll give it a go."