Jen found herself liking Oakley less and less every hour. He had seemed fine last night, when he had picked her up off the ground and had offered to stick with her, but now he was started to starting to seem downright creepy. Part of it was the way he would look at her every once in a while. It wasn't that he was staring at her body – more like he was seeing right through her skin to her insides. It was a very deep look. The other part of it was how he always talked a little down to her. He always made it seem like he had a better understanding of everything than she did. But he didn't. The only problem was that it wouldn't be easy to leave him right then. They were surrounded by people running away from New York. It was completely chaotic; often out of nowhere they would see something impossible like a man freezing a whole car over with ice. Then they would go back to walking as if it had been nothing. Even her days with the Brotherhood hadn't gotten her used to things like that.

"Where are we going again?" asked Jen.

"West," answered Oakley smugly.

"But where?"

"Far enough that we won't be running into these crazies from the City anymore. After that it doesn't really matter so we might as well go somewhere the terrorists won't bother with. Iowa?"

"I…does it have to be west?"

"That's where we're headed now. Do you have somewhere you'd rather go?"

"Well my parents live in New Hampshire, but…" She trailed off. She wasn't even sure whether she should have said anything. She was almost definitely not welcome there anymore.

"But that would be a hell of a long way and they aren't exactly running regular flights these days."

"Well…" She stopped. She might as well leave it at that, since it allowed her to avoid the issue of her parents.

"So your parents made it? What were you doing in New York by yourself?"

"I…" What could she say? She couldn't say it was because she was a mutant, which meant she couldn't say she had run away. Or maybe she could if she could think of some other reason why she might have run away. "I ran away. I...was raped."

He looked shocked, but creepily, as if he were more surprised that she would say so than that it happened. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, anyway…"

"In that case I guess it's too bad your parents made it," mused Oakley, with an odd little smile. She didn't know how to read it.

"I guess."

"My parents didn't make it. Neither did my sister or any of my friends." He stared off into space, remembering something.

"Sorry."

He shrugged. "I just don't know why I did make it, you know? It seems like a lot of the people who did make it had really weird sh…stuff happen to them, but that's not me. I don't get it."

Jen was silent. She didn't want to know what would happen if he did find out she was as much a freak as the rest of them.

"The way I figure this will all be over real soon. That's the way the world works; there can be some huge catastrophe and the survivors will just mop up and keep going. I don't know what the government is like now that D.C. has been trashed but I bet anything somebody has already set up a government somewhere else. I'll bet you by tomorrow we'll be getting into the area where people are pretty much living exactly the way they were before, like nothing's changed at all." He paused, then chuckled. "I bet the biggest change will be that their TV reception will be shot to sh…hell."

She thought about her father sitting on the couch, complaining that he couldn't see the baseball game. The image made her laugh for some reason.

"What's so funny? It's probably true."

"No, you're probably right. I was just thinking about my dad trying…" she stopped. She wondered how long it had been since she had actually thought about her family. She had, of course, but only to extent that 'her family' would think this or do that. She hadn't pictured her mother or father or sister; she hadn't really thought about any of them. She suddenly imagined her sister watching the news about everything that had happened in New York and the other places and gossiping about it with her friends. It annoyed her just to think about it, but it also made her a lot more homesick than she would have cared to admit. What would they think if they had any idea of her involvement in all of it? But no, they didn't know and they never would. They thought she was dead.

"We might as well stop for a rest," said Oakley. "We're away from the worst of the madness now."

"What do you think happened to everyone back there? At that place where we met, I mean?"

"Back where everyone was fighting? I would imagine a lot of the crazies killed each other off and the rest turned and run farther away from the City, like the ones we've been seeing."

"Do you think they made it inside that mansion? It did look pretty messed up."

"Yeah, I figure they did. But if whoever lived in it had any sense then they were already gone anyway. It's probably overrun with those fighting bastards now. Why? Did you want to see a place that nice? Because if we looked around here I'm sure we could find one and with everybody still running around it could easily be empty."

"No, it's not that important." It was really just curiosity; she liked the idea of those jerks from the Mansion getting beat up by her new mutants. Of course, there was a difference between being taught a lesson and being killed…She would feel really bad if Joey died, for example. He had to have been the nicest person there. When she came down to it she would rather have been traveling with him, not Oakley, even if he had been a jerk to her that one time.

"What's the first thing you're going to do when we get back to civilization?" asked Oakley suddenly.

"Uh…"

"Because I'm going to A&W's and I'm going to get a big burger and an even bigger root beer float. That's what civilization is all about."

"Oh. A root beer float sounds good. I don't think I have any money…"

"Who cares? The national economy has to be in the sh…can't be doing too well. We'll figure something out."

"Do you know how we can make some money?"

"Well, I'm college-educated so it shouldn't be that hard. At first we have to do menial stuff like washing dishes, but there's going to be a vacuum of skilled workers pretty soon so I'll just step in somewhere then."

"Oh. Do you think it would be possible for me to back to school?"

"What grade did you get to?"

"Eighth."

"No problem. Schools will probably be overcrowded, but that works for you too; they aren't going to go checking that carefully to see who your parents are. If you want I'll sign all your sh…uh…paperwork and stuff for you."

"Thanks." If Oakley was right then what she and the Brotherhood did would help her after all; she could say her parents died in New York and no one would be able to prove her wrong! Somebody was bound to adopt her then, because they would feel sorry for her.

They continued to walk, while Jen day-dreamed about her new adoptive family and how wonderful they would be.

…………………………………………

When Norman first woke up he was very disoriented. The first thing he noticed was that he wasn't in his bed. Then he found that he was in a hospital bed instead. Following that discovery he traced his hands up and down his body for damage, which led him to the discovery that his right leg was badly broken. That in turn caused him to remember what had happened the night before, when they were attacked. After a few moments' thought he came to the conclusion that he was lucky to have come away with only a broken leg. He had found out that the colonel was dead less than a minute before the explosions started and he had to run for his life.

Colonel Stryker was dead. It didn't seem possible. In a way it was a relief, though he also regretted the death of a man with such a powerful vision. Of course, there was no reason that his vision couldn't live on. In fact, Norman suspected he was the highest surviving official in the colonel's government. Wouldn't that make him a kind of President, then? Or would the colonel's carefully collected strings of power have been cut at the moment of his death? Something told him the fact that he was wondering this made it true.

Of course, if no other good came from the attack then at least the girl was dead. He hadn't seen her die but it was just short of impossible that she would have allowed Stryker to be killed while she was still alive. On the other hand she was a mutant, and who knew what was floating around the head of a mutant? She could have been in on the plan, for all he knew. Well, he would use whatever power he still possessed to kill her if she was alive. And he had reason, too: if she was alive it was because she was a traitor to Stryker and the new order, and there was no way to let her live with all the sensitive information she had.

He looked around, suddenly desperate for his cell phone. His clothes weren't in sight, but he saw a little closet against the wall near the door. He took a deep breath and swung his legs down from his bed. Keeping his right leg an inch or so off the ground, he stood up.

By the time he got to the closet he had expended so much energy that he couldn't quite get over the fact that neither his briefcase nor his pants were inside. Slightly dazed, he hopped to the door, and opened it.

The pay phone was only two rooms away, to his relief. When he got to it he patted where his pockets would have been, sighed, and dialed the first collect number that came into his head.

There was no answer at Ron Woo's number. So he tried his assistant, Kimball. No answer. He tried three or four other numbers. Nothing.

Were they all dead? It was one thing to wonder whether he was the only one of high rank left and another to get confirmation that everyone else was dead.

Then a nurse appeared from around the corner, stopped to stare at him for a second, then called to him. "Sir, you shouldn't be out of bed yet."

He had seen her already, but he was too busy feeling sorry for himself to really pay attention to her. That's why he was so startled when she walked up to him and took the phone receiver out of his hand.

"Please, sir, you should rest some more." She slung his arm over her shoulder and helped him walked back to his room. He had to admit that it was much easier to walk that way.

When they were inside the room she bent close to him and whispered, "Besides, they're all gone. I've taken the time to find everyone. It's you and two others, both in critical condition."

"Who are you?" She had his full attention now, but he still couldn't figure out who she was. As far as he knew they hadn't had any nurses high enough in the organization to know their identities.

"I was working directly under the Colonel, a field worker. I was in the field when the attack came, which is the reason I am alive now. My partners were not so lucky."

"How many were you?" In a way he felt betrayed that the Colonel would have men under him with full disclosure that the others didn't even know existed, but he supposed that was the prerogative of the man in charge of a budding government. He certainly was correct to be paranoid. Had been, rather.

"Just three. One of them was holding a conference with the Colonel at the time of the attacks and was killed, and the other is dead of radiation poisoning."

He felt yet another surge in his belly, one of the surges that meant he was getting ever-closer to an ulcer. So this woman was one of those agents they always referred to. The ones who risked life and limb and no one ever cared about because they didn't have faces. His plan for attacking Westchester had involved one of these people to go in, possibly at the risk of his or her own life. He wondered if this woman would have been the one.

"Just rest now, sir." Norman abruptly noticed he was lying down again. "And I have news for you."

"Thank you." He felt like if he could get a handle on what was going on he would feel better.

"The governor of California has officially given up his attempts to assume the presidency. On a related note, the population of California is down 12, all from emigration. It would be in our best interest to secure it now."

"Secure California? Just you and me, by ourselves?"

"Yes. And with the new staff we will have to hire."

"You'll have to do the legwork." The constant ache in his leg was the only thing that prevented him from forgetting about that it was broken; he was very intent on this woman.

"Of course. Though you realize, that leg will probably help us in the end. Veterans are always popular, especially during wartime. With that leg, you have proof that you are a veteran of the Mutant Wars."

Chills ran down his spine. "What a campaign that will be."

The nurse nodded. "It has also bought us some sympathy with the EU. Prime Minister Beckworth is still attempting to annex us, but most of the continent has offered its support to us. As I see it, we need to take their financial support now and take their people once we have some people of are own again."

"We wouldn't want our organization made up of all their people."

"I can resecure Montana today."

"Good to hear it."

"What do you want to do about Simson?"

"He's in Ohio?"

"Yes. He's using this attack to bolster support in what remains of the eastern states."

"How big as Ohio gotten now?"

"It has grown by 8 and has not stopped."

"We should secure the west first."

"I agree."

"Then we need to address Simson."

"And if I had an opportunity to…set back his campaign?"

"In what way?"

"I have a means of damaging his reputation."

"What do you have?"

"He's a mutant."

Norman shot up in bed, sending spears of pain through his leg. "The bastard!"

"Rest now. And yes, I agree."

"Absolutely! Do what you have to! Sink the bastard!"

She stood up, and smiled. It was a slightly malicious smile. Norman thought he liked the look of it. She turned to leave.

"Wait! What is your name?"

"I apologize," she said, turning back around. "My name is Elena Corman."

"Would you like to be my vice president, Ms. Corman?"

She gave her beautiful smile again. "Absolutely." She walked out of the room.

He leaned back into his bed, sighing. Maybe she would be better in a position other than vice president. Maybe the best position for her would be that of first lady. He laughed at his own thoughts, sighed, and closed his eyes.