A Second Lease on Life: Ch1
Tram Tragedy in New Mexico (22 Dec 98)
Albq. NM (AP)- The largest city in New Mexico is gripped in
shock and grief tonight after one of two tram-cars on the Sandia
Tramway, operated by the National Park Service, carrying 42
people plunged into a chasm.
There was only one survivor, who is reported to be in critical
condition in the ICU at Presbetyrian Hospital tonight. The unnamed
woman is in a coma according to the spokesman, who declined to give
any further details, pending an official investigation.
The main cable that the asymmetrically balanced cars travel on
is nearly a foot thick, and has never broken before, though
it has been replaced several times over the decades, since the
Sandia Tram was opened in 1957.
It is reputedly the world's longest tramway, at just over two
and a half miles.
The circumstances under which this tragedy occurred are
still unclear, and investigators are not commenting. Though
terrorism, in some form, is a possibility, due to the proximity
to Kirtland Spaceport and the Sandia and Los Alamos National
Research Labs.
-------------------------------
I woke up a day after that report was printed in newspapers all
across the nation.
I was the woman who survived.
Goddess only knows how, though, and I had the worst migraine in
living memory and felt like I'd been thrown off a horse not once,
but a dozen times. I was so stiff I could barely move, but that
didn't stop me.
Coma, yeah, right.
At least my personal effects, which'd been in my leather butt-pack,
were in a plastic baggie in the drawer of the night stand... Keys.
Altoids. Wallet. RPG dice. Jewelry. Swiss Army Knife.
I put my hair in a tail, and helped myself to a nice, heavy velvet
bathrobe that belonged to one of the other patients and a pair of
sneakers from one floor down... And then I cut the plastic sensor
bracelet off my wrist, and left it in a room in the psych ward, as
I went "shopping" for something to wear.
I eventually found a pair of jeans, a shirt and a jacket to wear,
and walked out of Pres with no regrets, winding through the neighbor-
hood,
rather than take the direct route to my flat, just 4 blocks south.
Besides, it was a beautiful day, and I wasn't in the mood to be cooped
up inside. It'd snowed this morning, and with so few people out, the
pristine whiteness actually held some appeal for me. My bones weren't
hurting and it didn't seem that cold, so I decided to enjoy absolute
quiet.
I didn't notise anyone following me, though I did get a few odd looks
as I walked through Roosevelt Park on my way home... Some of the kids
muttered, but I didn't pay much attention, I was just glad to have come
out of that tram accident alive!
Everything seemed perfectly normal, and luckily Priscilla didn't even
seem to notise me as I stalked past her office by the front gate.
[I swear, that old woman complains about everything, from her hyster-
ectomy, to the crazy old bat in 104 to the newlyweds that live upstairs
from her...thumping around at all hours!]
I trotted town the stairs, and down to 108, where I live, thinking
about listening to some White Zombie as I opened the door and let
myself in.
A hot bath, some clean clothes... MY clothes, and food; though not
necessAnaly in that order.
I couldn't help but smile. I had thought I'd never see this humble
hole in the wall again, but for once, I was glad to see insipid beige
walls, and all my "reverse-goth" decor and my old computer sitting on
the desk, waiting for me to log in and check email...
(Well, let me explain "reverse-goth" first. "Goth" is all black and
dark colours, by some strange twist of fate, everything in my room is
white or light coloured, but is still in a very gothy style, unlike my
closet which is filled with black velvet, black linen, black silk and
black leather...)
First things were first: I tossed my White Zombie CD into the stereo,
and wandered off to run my bath. I grabbed my brush, and started to
unknot my hair when I notised this ridiculous white stripe running
down the middle of my hair...
I must have been really scared to have that much of my hair go white
overnight. But considering I'd nearly died, what else could I have
expected, I asked myself, as I began to tug my brush through the unruly
mass. I notised it was a bit longer than I normally wore my hair, but
chalked that minor difference up to still being in shock over my near
death experience.
My bath was nearly full, so I ditched the clothes I'd borrowed and slid
into the deliciously hot water, dumping in half a pound of epsom salts
to help soak out the aches.... And half an hour or so later, I was
feeling "humanoid again".
Now, mind you, when I discovered that my jeans seemed a bit too loose,
I wasn't about to complain. But it irritated me that my bra seemed too
snug. How the hell did I wind up with all my other clothes being looser,
and my damn bra being tighter? One of those mysteries of life, I supposed.
Food was next on my agenda, though I followed my normal habit of signing
online while waiting for the leftovers to warm up. There were several ICQ's
from friends and more emails cluttering up my Hotmail account. I guess they'd
heard about the Tram, too....
Well, I was half way into dinner and reading through my prodigious amount
of PBeM posts when somebody was knocking on the door...
Nobody knocks on my door, unless it's Louis, Gost or the manager.
I'm never one to throw open the door until I know who's out there, so
I grabbed my roomie's cellphone and dialed my voicemail. It took me only a
moment to figure out that there were no messages, so it had to be Priscilla.
I wasn't in the mood to deal with her, so I ignored it.
I sat back down at my computer and continued talking to my friend Donna from
Connecticut, though I had a my favourite sword sitting beside me... I got
suspicious when the knocking stopped, and I heard a key slide into the lock
over the White Zombie. I didn't hear Priscilla's nasal voice hollering that
she was coming in, so I told Donna what was up...pulled up 911 on the cell-
phone, ready to dial with one hand and ready to skewer who ever
was invading my privacy with the other.
I somehow knew that somebody was picking the lock on my door, and that
larceny wasn't on their mind... Now I was mad.
I slid my back up to the wall, so they couldn't see me if they entered my
room, tightening my grip on the sword, when I heard their voices...
A strong Southern drawl was the first, "Dere ya go..."
A woman's voice, with a cultured, New England accent came next,
"Thank you... I hate doing this, but we don't know what shape she's in..."
Then an almost "whine" from an impatient man, who sounded too uptight for
his own good, "Well, she's been gone for months... with no explanations.
Darn good thing Cerebro can track her."
I "felt" their progress in the back of my head, and waited.. The cell
phone wasn't' going to do any good if they could track somebody with
some sort of electronic device, so I set it aside, as I heard the woman
again: "Let me go first... She's not going to be happy to see either
of you guys."
The woman's presence grew closer, and rounded the corner into my room,
I moved faster than I thought possible... I hit her in the stomach with
the flat of the blade, knocking the wind out of her. That was well and
good, but I'd not reckoned that I'd wind up with Jean Grey-Summers in
my flat. She must have thought I was somebody else.
First thing I did was kick the smoker outside. I hate the smell of
the stuff. It makes me want to throw up. I don't care if the smoker's
the most gorgeous thing this side of Adonis, it's a real turnoff.
The whiney guy turns out to be the redhead's husband. A real geek
who wears red shades and really lame clothes, and has a lamer attitude.
I don't know what she sees in him...
The whiney guy found himself kicked out too, after 2 minutes of listening
to him, I was ready to skewer him. But the redhead persuaded me not to...
She purposefully didn't touch me, which was cool, because I'm a psychic,
and I don't like being touched by strangers. But it was obvious she wanted
to talk, so I parked her on that awful pink chair of mine, while I took
up a perch on my bed, the sword resting across my lap.
"Okay. This is my home, and I'm entitled to ask the questions." I began,
giving her my best evil look, "Who the hell are ye people to be breaking
into my flat?"
"I'm Jean Grey-Summers, and we tracked you here with Cerebro" she stated,
as though I was supposed to know what that meant, "A colleague has been
missing for several months, and when the authorities released their sketch
of "Jane Doe", who was the sole survivor of the accident, we were contacted
by friends in law enforcement who recognised you..."
"Me? I've never seen yer people in my life," I interrupted, feeling
like there was more to her brief explanation than she was willing to
give me, "And why should I trust ye at all? Ye come barging in
here, with out any warning, and ye expect me to trust ye??"
"Rogue, whom you so closely resemble," she continued, "was once
a metahuman terrorist, who may still be wanted in some states. This
could pose a problem to your safety..."
Then her ideas really got crazy, "... not to mention, that we don't
know who is responsible for the Tram accident. You're possibly the
only witness to the truth. We can guarantee your safety and anonymity
in this case. I also have reason to believe that something even more
unusual may have happened here, Ms.... I don't recall your name"
"Lady Anastasia," I told her, not willing to give her my surname.
"...Rogue had the peculiar ability to absorb the psyche and powers
of anyone she made skin-to-skin contact with." she proposed, "What
if an 'ordinary' woman tried to save her, not knowing about her
'handicap' as it were?"
She gave it a moment for that to sink in, "So yer saying that Rogue
absorbed "me"? That I'm now living in somebody else's body? And that
my body died?"
I was more than surprised, I was shocked. And that's not an easy thing
to do....
Even more so that I'd cheated death. I started laughing, and couldn't
stop. The notion was so absurd... granted I'd concocted stuff like
that for my RPGs, but that didn't happen in real life... did it?
In the insuing hour, Jean managed to persuade me to return to New
York with her...
I know I was driving her crazy, because I kept "listening" to White
Zombie, Metallica and Type O Negative in the back of my head... not
exactly the kinda stuff to make a telepath comfortable--and you know
what? It was fun watching her sit there and squirm!
She wasn't the only psi-talent in the room, either!
I did a little persuading of my own: my computer, my personal gear
and my sewing machine and "stuff" was coming with me. I wasn't about
to give up my entire life.... even if I was given a second lease.
Tram Tragedy in New Mexico (22 Dec 98)
Albq. NM (AP)- The largest city in New Mexico is gripped in
shock and grief tonight after one of two tram-cars on the Sandia
Tramway, operated by the National Park Service, carrying 42
people plunged into a chasm.
There was only one survivor, who is reported to be in critical
condition in the ICU at Presbetyrian Hospital tonight. The unnamed
woman is in a coma according to the spokesman, who declined to give
any further details, pending an official investigation.
The main cable that the asymmetrically balanced cars travel on
is nearly a foot thick, and has never broken before, though
it has been replaced several times over the decades, since the
Sandia Tram was opened in 1957.
It is reputedly the world's longest tramway, at just over two
and a half miles.
The circumstances under which this tragedy occurred are
still unclear, and investigators are not commenting. Though
terrorism, in some form, is a possibility, due to the proximity
to Kirtland Spaceport and the Sandia and Los Alamos National
Research Labs.
-------------------------------
I woke up a day after that report was printed in newspapers all
across the nation.
I was the woman who survived.
Goddess only knows how, though, and I had the worst migraine in
living memory and felt like I'd been thrown off a horse not once,
but a dozen times. I was so stiff I could barely move, but that
didn't stop me.
Coma, yeah, right.
At least my personal effects, which'd been in my leather butt-pack,
were in a plastic baggie in the drawer of the night stand... Keys.
Altoids. Wallet. RPG dice. Jewelry. Swiss Army Knife.
I put my hair in a tail, and helped myself to a nice, heavy velvet
bathrobe that belonged to one of the other patients and a pair of
sneakers from one floor down... And then I cut the plastic sensor
bracelet off my wrist, and left it in a room in the psych ward, as
I went "shopping" for something to wear.
I eventually found a pair of jeans, a shirt and a jacket to wear,
and walked out of Pres with no regrets, winding through the neighbor-
hood,
rather than take the direct route to my flat, just 4 blocks south.
Besides, it was a beautiful day, and I wasn't in the mood to be cooped
up inside. It'd snowed this morning, and with so few people out, the
pristine whiteness actually held some appeal for me. My bones weren't
hurting and it didn't seem that cold, so I decided to enjoy absolute
quiet.
I didn't notise anyone following me, though I did get a few odd looks
as I walked through Roosevelt Park on my way home... Some of the kids
muttered, but I didn't pay much attention, I was just glad to have come
out of that tram accident alive!
Everything seemed perfectly normal, and luckily Priscilla didn't even
seem to notise me as I stalked past her office by the front gate.
[I swear, that old woman complains about everything, from her hyster-
ectomy, to the crazy old bat in 104 to the newlyweds that live upstairs
from her...thumping around at all hours!]
I trotted town the stairs, and down to 108, where I live, thinking
about listening to some White Zombie as I opened the door and let
myself in.
A hot bath, some clean clothes... MY clothes, and food; though not
necessAnaly in that order.
I couldn't help but smile. I had thought I'd never see this humble
hole in the wall again, but for once, I was glad to see insipid beige
walls, and all my "reverse-goth" decor and my old computer sitting on
the desk, waiting for me to log in and check email...
(Well, let me explain "reverse-goth" first. "Goth" is all black and
dark colours, by some strange twist of fate, everything in my room is
white or light coloured, but is still in a very gothy style, unlike my
closet which is filled with black velvet, black linen, black silk and
black leather...)
First things were first: I tossed my White Zombie CD into the stereo,
and wandered off to run my bath. I grabbed my brush, and started to
unknot my hair when I notised this ridiculous white stripe running
down the middle of my hair...
I must have been really scared to have that much of my hair go white
overnight. But considering I'd nearly died, what else could I have
expected, I asked myself, as I began to tug my brush through the unruly
mass. I notised it was a bit longer than I normally wore my hair, but
chalked that minor difference up to still being in shock over my near
death experience.
My bath was nearly full, so I ditched the clothes I'd borrowed and slid
into the deliciously hot water, dumping in half a pound of epsom salts
to help soak out the aches.... And half an hour or so later, I was
feeling "humanoid again".
Now, mind you, when I discovered that my jeans seemed a bit too loose,
I wasn't about to complain. But it irritated me that my bra seemed too
snug. How the hell did I wind up with all my other clothes being looser,
and my damn bra being tighter? One of those mysteries of life, I supposed.
Food was next on my agenda, though I followed my normal habit of signing
online while waiting for the leftovers to warm up. There were several ICQ's
from friends and more emails cluttering up my Hotmail account. I guess they'd
heard about the Tram, too....
Well, I was half way into dinner and reading through my prodigious amount
of PBeM posts when somebody was knocking on the door...
Nobody knocks on my door, unless it's Louis, Gost or the manager.
I'm never one to throw open the door until I know who's out there, so
I grabbed my roomie's cellphone and dialed my voicemail. It took me only a
moment to figure out that there were no messages, so it had to be Priscilla.
I wasn't in the mood to deal with her, so I ignored it.
I sat back down at my computer and continued talking to my friend Donna from
Connecticut, though I had a my favourite sword sitting beside me... I got
suspicious when the knocking stopped, and I heard a key slide into the lock
over the White Zombie. I didn't hear Priscilla's nasal voice hollering that
she was coming in, so I told Donna what was up...pulled up 911 on the cell-
phone, ready to dial with one hand and ready to skewer who ever
was invading my privacy with the other.
I somehow knew that somebody was picking the lock on my door, and that
larceny wasn't on their mind... Now I was mad.
I slid my back up to the wall, so they couldn't see me if they entered my
room, tightening my grip on the sword, when I heard their voices...
A strong Southern drawl was the first, "Dere ya go..."
A woman's voice, with a cultured, New England accent came next,
"Thank you... I hate doing this, but we don't know what shape she's in..."
Then an almost "whine" from an impatient man, who sounded too uptight for
his own good, "Well, she's been gone for months... with no explanations.
Darn good thing Cerebro can track her."
I "felt" their progress in the back of my head, and waited.. The cell
phone wasn't' going to do any good if they could track somebody with
some sort of electronic device, so I set it aside, as I heard the woman
again: "Let me go first... She's not going to be happy to see either
of you guys."
The woman's presence grew closer, and rounded the corner into my room,
I moved faster than I thought possible... I hit her in the stomach with
the flat of the blade, knocking the wind out of her. That was well and
good, but I'd not reckoned that I'd wind up with Jean Grey-Summers in
my flat. She must have thought I was somebody else.
First thing I did was kick the smoker outside. I hate the smell of
the stuff. It makes me want to throw up. I don't care if the smoker's
the most gorgeous thing this side of Adonis, it's a real turnoff.
The whiney guy turns out to be the redhead's husband. A real geek
who wears red shades and really lame clothes, and has a lamer attitude.
I don't know what she sees in him...
The whiney guy found himself kicked out too, after 2 minutes of listening
to him, I was ready to skewer him. But the redhead persuaded me not to...
She purposefully didn't touch me, which was cool, because I'm a psychic,
and I don't like being touched by strangers. But it was obvious she wanted
to talk, so I parked her on that awful pink chair of mine, while I took
up a perch on my bed, the sword resting across my lap.
"Okay. This is my home, and I'm entitled to ask the questions." I began,
giving her my best evil look, "Who the hell are ye people to be breaking
into my flat?"
"I'm Jean Grey-Summers, and we tracked you here with Cerebro" she stated,
as though I was supposed to know what that meant, "A colleague has been
missing for several months, and when the authorities released their sketch
of "Jane Doe", who was the sole survivor of the accident, we were contacted
by friends in law enforcement who recognised you..."
"Me? I've never seen yer people in my life," I interrupted, feeling
like there was more to her brief explanation than she was willing to
give me, "And why should I trust ye at all? Ye come barging in
here, with out any warning, and ye expect me to trust ye??"
"Rogue, whom you so closely resemble," she continued, "was once
a metahuman terrorist, who may still be wanted in some states. This
could pose a problem to your safety..."
Then her ideas really got crazy, "... not to mention, that we don't
know who is responsible for the Tram accident. You're possibly the
only witness to the truth. We can guarantee your safety and anonymity
in this case. I also have reason to believe that something even more
unusual may have happened here, Ms.... I don't recall your name"
"Lady Anastasia," I told her, not willing to give her my surname.
"...Rogue had the peculiar ability to absorb the psyche and powers
of anyone she made skin-to-skin contact with." she proposed, "What
if an 'ordinary' woman tried to save her, not knowing about her
'handicap' as it were?"
She gave it a moment for that to sink in, "So yer saying that Rogue
absorbed "me"? That I'm now living in somebody else's body? And that
my body died?"
I was more than surprised, I was shocked. And that's not an easy thing
to do....
Even more so that I'd cheated death. I started laughing, and couldn't
stop. The notion was so absurd... granted I'd concocted stuff like
that for my RPGs, but that didn't happen in real life... did it?
In the insuing hour, Jean managed to persuade me to return to New
York with her...
I know I was driving her crazy, because I kept "listening" to White
Zombie, Metallica and Type O Negative in the back of my head... not
exactly the kinda stuff to make a telepath comfortable--and you know
what? It was fun watching her sit there and squirm!
She wasn't the only psi-talent in the room, either!
I did a little persuading of my own: my computer, my personal gear
and my sewing machine and "stuff" was coming with me. I wasn't about
to give up my entire life.... even if I was given a second lease.