Chapter 3: Wronged
Aren't you always getting scared of the future
Aren't you always thinking someone will shoot you
Aren't we always looking over our shoulders
Aren't we always drawing guns from our holsters
Terminal City was alive. Generators were up and running, the place had power, water flowing from the taps, an impressive supply of food and other necessities. People walked the streets, not as openly as those in other parts of the city, but more openly than their kind—her kind—would have dared beyond the boundaries of this sanctuary. As far as Post-Pulse America was concerned, it was doing all right.
So it could use a bit of an update on its décor, but the important thing was making it livable, not making it pretty. That's what Max told herself as she gazed upon the crumbling buildings, the trash-laden streets, and the general state of dilapidation.
Still, maybe an anti-littering by-law might help… this place really is a sty.
"Hey Max," a voice that was familiar despite the fact that it was speaking around a mouthful of food, caught her attention from behind. She turned to find Alec stuffing the remaining bit of chocolate bar past his lips, letting the wrapper fall guiltlessly to the concrete at their feet.
Max stared at the bit of paper, and then glared back up at Alec.
He gulped, the food moving visibly down his throat tract, a giant ball of artificial goodness. Smacking his lips appreciatively, he proceeded to lick the remaining brown smudges off his fingers. That's when he noticed Max's eyes boring into him.
"What?"
She stabbed a finger downward, "Pick that up."
Alec laughed, but stopped mid-stride as he saw her expression. "You're serious?" he asked incredulously. She didn't waver as he met her gaze. "Max, look around you—we're in dump central. If it weren't for the piles of garbage out on the streets, there'd be nothing keeping the buildings from falling over."
Crossing her arms over her chest, she stared back at him, one skeptic eyebrow raised. "Really? Then please explain the purpose of this one candy wrapper, up here on the rooftop? Oh wait, let me guess," she drawled on sarcastically, "It's to lend support to the ceiling."
"This candy wrapper," he said, indicating the object of their attention, "has yet to find its purpose. So I have placed it upon this rooftop in hope that the wind will carry it to wherever its presence may be required." He leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees, speaking to the wrapper now, "Go little wrapper, go and find your place in this world, go and find the reason for your being, the—"
"Pick it up."
Slightly irked at having his little monologue cut short, Alec straightened. "No."
"Pick. It. Up."
"Mmm… No."
"Alec, if you don't pick it up right now—"
"Hey guys… Am I interrupting something?" Logan stood hesitantly in the doorway of the stairwell leading down from the roof.
Alec replied without skipping a beat, "Just a little lovers' spat. Nothing a good round of makeup sex won't fix."
"Alec!" Max hissed, outrage shining on her features. She saw Logan duck his head slightly, hands shoved in his pockets.
"Yes, schnookum-honey-baby-doll?" he practically sang, a smile almost as wide as his face accenting his words.
Max frowned—at that atrocity of a pet name, more than anything else. "Why don't you go check on Sketchy? Make sure he's not getting into too much trouble, or anything."
Alec's eyebrows rose in response. "You want me to check on Sketchy, to make sure he isn't getting into trouble?" Then he shrugged. "Alright." He headed promptly for the stairs, but stopped beside Logan, putting a concerned hand on the other man's shoulder. "Say Logan, you don't look so good. You don't think the side-effects of your stay in Terminal City are kicking in already, do you?"
Max was about to cut in, to forcefully get rid of Alec, if necessary, but Logan replied instead. "No, I'm fine, but what about you? I mean, you took one helluva beating from that Familiar the other week… you sure you're alright? Should you be up and about already?"
The smile on Alec's face disappeared quickly as he said defensively, "Hey, I woulda had her, if it weren't for the bullet the sector cops put in my shoulder earlier."
Logan nodded, patting the other man's back comfortingly. "Right. Of course." He received a glare in response.
They both watched Alec leave, considerably less happy than he was seconds earlier. For a while, even after he was gone from sight, neither spoke. Then Logan turned to Max, watching her silently.
"What?" she asked curiously.
"You don't seem all that upset about the way I treated you boyfriend there." There was still an amount of awkwardness around that 'b' word.
Max shrugged. "Everyone can use a little humbling every once in a while." Her gaze lingered momentarily in the direction Alec had disappeared, and she smiled slightly. "Some more than others."
He nodded, and stepped further out onto the roof, hands still in his pockets, but suddenly there was something very serious about his demeanor. He wasn't looking directly at her, which was strange, and there was a small frown on his face.
"Something up?"
"Max," he said, finally gazing at her.
"Logan," she replied, suppressing a sigh and trying not to think of all the things that could possibly be wrong now, "What is it?"
He hesitated. "I got a message last night, at this special number I set up a few months back. I only checked it now… I really wasn't thinking that—"
"From who?" she interrupted impatiently. There was a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her she wasn't going to like what he had to tell her, and a part of her—a small part very deep within her—was huffing about the fact that she couldn't even have a moment's peace, moving straight from one crisis onto the next. It was selfish thinking, she knew, and that's why she shoved the thought back down from where it'd come.
"From the Garrett ranch, where"—he seemed to take a deep, fortifying breath before completing—"we set up Zack with his new identity."
Max's eyes widened suddenly with comprehension. "Zack," she whispered so faintly that if it weren't for the movement of her lips, Logan would not have known she'd spoken at all. Oh god, Zack—how could she have forgotten?
"What happened?"
"Um, well there was a message from last night—it said that 'Adam' had discovered the connection between his barcode and the whole transgenic hype on the news." She winced at his words. Of course, she should have known. How could she think he would continue on, oblivious to what was going on in the rest of the world? This was Zack, after all; even if he didn't remember it, deep inside it was still him. Max's attention returned, full-force, to Logan as he said next, "Then there was another message from a couple of hours later that said he was headed to Seattle, to Terminal City actually—"
"What? Here?" she sputtered. "From last night? But that means that… he should be—he should already have been here…"
Logan interrupted. "Max, there was more to the second message. They—the police—found the truck Zack was driving when he left the ranch." He paused, grimacing slightly. "The tire was shot out, the truck was lying on the side of the road."
"What?" Alarm flared through her. "What about Zack? Is he…?" She couldn't bring herself to finish the thought.
"No, he wasn't there," Logan hastily answered. Then he looked at her significantly. "Max, the tire was shot out." He saw that her focus shift, and he continued. "A call came into the nearest 9-1-1 call center that same day, reporting an Adam Thompson as a transgenic with a visible barcode. But, tire shot out, quick job in the middle of the night, nothing in the news, and obviously the local police wasn't involved…"
"White."
He nodded.
"I have to go, I have to find him." She moved to walk past him.
"Max," he said, reaching out for her. But he froze, both of them staring down at his hand. The sleeves of her shirt would have protected him, but aside from that one hand-holding incident from earlier that week, things had been back to uncomfortable between them. He dropped his arm. "He doesn't remember anything. He made the connection, but he's still 'Adam'."
"That only makes him more vulnerable."
"That makes you both more vulnerable," he corrected.
"I can take care of myself," she returned, rushing for the stairs.
"Brother Zack's in trouble again," Alec said, leaning up against the wall, watching as Max gathered together supplies.
"Brother Zack? You make him sound like a monk."
He shrugged. "So, are we mounting the army, riding to the rescue?" He glanced around the room at their 'army', which was currently milling about, tending to various duties required in the successful restoration of Terminal City.
"No army." To his questioning look, she elaborated, "None of these people even know Zack; I can't ask them to risk their lives for him. It'd be taking advantage of their trust in me."
"Hey, I don't really know him either," Alec protested. "You still asked me along."
Max paused, turning to stare at him. "You don't want to help me," she said flatly. She shouldn't have been surprised, not really—this was Alec. But after all they'd been through in the last few weeks, and that whole thing with Ben, how she'd finally opened up to him a bit… and even though they fought incessantly and drove each other insane, she'd thought they were past this point.
She turned to leave, but his hand on her arm stopped her. Looking up into suddenly serious green eyes, "Hey, I didn't say that. I don't know him, not really, but if you ask me, of course I'll help." He grinned slightly, "Even if you didn't ask, I'd probably still tag along."
Max watched him a moment, trying to gauge his sincerity. Then abruptly, she nodded, and turned to go. "Come on." They piled into Logan's Aztek—which he had leant them on the condition that they would return it without too many new bullet holes—Max behind the steering wheel.
"Hey, how come I can't drive?" Alec complained. "You never let me drive your ninja because it was 'your baby'… but what about now?"
She looked at him pointedly. "I don't think Logan would be too happy with you driving his car—you know, circumstances being what they are."
He considered that a moment. "Hmm, you're probably right. Maybe I shouldn't keep yanking his chain like that." Then he shrugged it off, pulling another chocolate bar from his jacket pocket. "Nah, it's just too much fun."
The ride out of Terminal City was relatively quiet, each watching to make sure they weren't spotted. With perimeters extending as far and wide as they did, the sector police, the National Guard, the army—they couldn't watch every exit at every moment, especially when you factored in the numerous secret entrances the new inhabitants had been working to restore. Forgotten tunnels and previously barricaded roads gave them an advantage. And as the days passed on and the transgenics remained in their new home, leaving the rest of the world alone, the authorities became increasingly hesitant to make a move against them. Partly afraid of a possible, and likely, counterattack, and partly unsure as to how to justify an unprovoked offensive. Aside from what local news would have them believe, there was still a significant portion of the country's population that was strictly against genocide.
"So," Alec began as they came up onto the sunlit streets, the danger of discovery behind them for now. "Since Zack doesn't have any of his memories back yet, does that mean he's not gonna go all psycho 'kill Logan, kill, kill, kill' on us?" When Max didn't reply, he continued on, "Of course, now that you and Logan are no longer 'together', that little green-eyed monster won't have to rear its ugly head, so Roller Boy should be safe anyway." Then he froze abruptly, turning toward her. "Wait a minute… now that we're supposedly a thing, he's not going to try to kill me, is he?"
Max threw him a sideways glance, her expression crossed somewhere between disgust and annoyance. "Zack only tried to kill Logan because Manticore brainwashed him to go after Eyes Only by making him believe he'd betrayed us and the mission. That's all. And if he tries to kill you, it has nothing to do with us being a 'thing', and everything to do with you."
"Right," Alec returned, resettling in his seat, somewhat placated but not buying her entire argument. "This is Zack we're talking about. You told me that he was captured once and he refused to betray the locations of the other escapees, despite what they did to him."
He looked toward her for confirmation, "So?"
"Reprogramming would only have taken Manticore so far… it was Zack's feelings that turned him. His feelings for you. His very un-brotherly feelings for you."
"Look, I already told you—"
"You and Zack were 'never like that'." He sighed dramatically. "Yeah, yeah, I know. And you and Logan were 'never like that'. Apparently, the only person you were ever 'like that' with, is me. And I haven't even seen you naked yet, so what's that say?"
Max shot him an outraged glare. "And you never will see me naked!"
"C'mon, Max, give a guy a little hope. Y'know that's the only reason I've stuck around here so long."
"To see me naked." She arched an eyebrow. "You know, that's almost flattering."
Alec grinned cockily, "If not with my devastating good looks, I'll win you with my charm."
They sank into silence again, and Max returned to her thoughts. It didn't matter how Zack felt about her, she had to find him and get him back. She owed him that much; she owed more. Damn it! How could she have let this happen? So caught up in everything going down in Seattle, she had forgotten all about her brothers and sisters, the other escapees who had lived relatively anonymous lives in the 'real' world for the past eleven years. With all that had happened here, how had she impacted their lives? Had any of them been discovered because of everything in the news? First, she took Zack away from them, now this.
"What is it?" Alec inquired quietly, interrupting her self-recriminations.
Max shook her head slightly, trying to clear her thoughts. "With everything that's been going on, I didn't even think of that. I didn't think of him." She shook her head again, this time a little more forcefully. "I forgot about him. I completely forgot."
"Hey," Alec replied, "it's understandable. You've had a lot on your plate. You still have a lot on your plate." He grinned, trying to ease the mood. "Being the chosen one and leading the revolution and all—you can't really blame yourself."
But she didn't want to be pacified; she didn't want her guilt eased. "No, it's not 'understandable'. Zack always looked after us—all of us. I should have been able to do the same for him."
"You've been looking after a lot more than eleven escapees, Max. You've been trying to take care of the whole mess left behind by Manticore. And not by Manticore's destruction"—he interjected, before she could bring up that line of argument—"but by Manticore." Quietly, he added, "You've been taking care of us all."
Still, despite his words, she couldn't help the heavy feeling in her chest. Zack's heart, she thought, the ultimate sacrifice. And the time he turned himself in for Vogelsang's murder, knowing that meant he would be taken back to Manticore. The night of the escape, when he let himself get caught in order to give the rest of them a chance to make it. He had done so much for her—for them all. I should have been able to do the same for him.
She had to give him up so many times already… but no matter what happened, she would not give him up again. Never again. I owe him that much.