Chapter 2: Inner Demons
Larry awoke Sunday morning in the hospital, and the first thing he saw was his sister's worried face.
"Larry!" she exclaimed with a small squeal. For a moment it looked as if she would pounce on him, but instead she bolted out the door, calling for a doctor.
Dimly becoming aware of his surroundings, Larry noted the hard mattress underneath him, the coarse blanket covering his body and the steady beeps of machinery in the room. The middle-aged patient in the bed next to him was watching a cable access religious program, with the Reverend Stryker looking like an angel of death in his black suit as he preached about the end times and…'mutation?'
"…Who were these beings? Not human, surely, as you have all seen their ungodly powers and their inhuman faces. Mutants? I call them demons! And science has once again proven to be the tool of the devil, as you saw that rampaging leviathan of steel destroy our streets and terrorize the faithful!"
A 'Leviathan of steel?' What the hell was the old man raving about? It sounded for a moment as if he were talking about…a robot…
Then, Larry remembered.
The Sentinels live.
Tanya bounced back into the room with a nurse and Robert Chalmers, a former federal judge and a longtime friend of the family. He was like an uncle to the Trask siblings, and with their father off on a lark with one of his projects Robert was the only adult they could count on.
"Larry, my boy!" Chalmers grinned, relieved to see him up.
"What happened?," Larry demanded to know, still dazed. "Someone tell me, what happened?"
"You blacked out suddenly and gave yourself quite a bump on the head when you fell," Chalmers explained. "And you gave your sister and me quite a scare!"
"No," Larry said. "Not that. What happened in Bayville? What happened?"
Chalmers' expression of joy faded. With a look of resignation he answered him as best he could. "The media's already named them 'mutants'. Yesterday the streets of Bayville were overrun with those strange people, who have inhuman appearances and ungodly powers. At first, people thought it was a stunt of some kind until they saw the damage the giant robot was doing to the city. No one had ever seen anything like it before. The robot was destroyed, taking half an office building with it, and the military tracked the mutants to their base of operations. They were outnumbered and outgunned, but the mutants still overwhelmed a small army. They got away. But everyone--and I mean everyone--is looking for those people and an explanation as to what exactly the whole world just saw."
"The 'giant robot'?" murmured Larry from his hospital bed. "It's called a Sentinel."
Something like recognition flashed over Chalmers' face when Larry spoke those words, but it disappeared quickly. Larry had no time to question him about it, as Tanya latched onto her brother and squeezed him until he was out of breath. Her wet cheek brushed his, and he knew she had been crying. "I was so rattled, with everything that was happening…I couldn't deal with it if something happened to you, you're the only family I have!"
"We have Dad," Larry said firmly.
Tanya sniffled. "You heard what I said."
As Sunday continued there were reports that the mutants were on the move, and had attacked a government facility at an undisclosed location somewhere in the southwest. The stories of the mutants' powers spread like wildfire and consumed the airwaves. Swept away by the dramatic reports, Larry had chosen not to say anything of his dream, or ask where his father was.
---
"Larry, what happened to you?"
"I fell," he replied.
Calvin Rankin, a blonde, swaggering senior, was staring at the bandage on Larry's forehead. It was Monday morning at Armstrong High School and the words had spilled out of Calvin's mouth the minute Larry entered his first period class.
"You fell? Come on, Tanya clocked you one, didn't she? She's got a lot of nerve for a freshman." Cal laughed at his own little joke.
Larry didn't find it funny. The classroom was unusually quiet, and looking around he noticed that most people were either talking in whispers or wearing gloomy expressions. The televised incident with the "mutants" was still fresh in everyone's mind-- the world was suddenly a much larger and scarier place. Cal, however, was in good spirits, and Larry had a passing thought that his girlfriend's Saturday night visit had something to do with it. Ignoring Cal, Larry preserved his dignity by not mentioning that the cut on his head was the result of his fainting.
"My cousin's best friend lives in Bayville," a girl whispered in the back of the classroom later that period. "He says the mutants are really aliens, and the robot was created by the government to fight them."
"Oh yeah?" replied her skeptical friend. "I heard the robot was the alien. You know, like the one in The Day the Earth Stood Still!"
"No way! That robot was a good guy."
Larry rested his chin on one hand, eyes fixed on the blank notebook paper on his desk. The teacher's voice was crystal clear, but Larry could only hear the gossiping girls. It was a struggle not to turn around and say, "They're not aliens, and that robot's called a Sentinel!", but an outburst would only give away the fact that something strange was happening to him and he had no idea what it was. Instead, he glanced over his shoulder at the two gossiping girls, and was spotted. Immediately clamming up, they blushed before whispering again, only much quieter this time.
"Larry just looked at us!"
"I'm going to ask him what he thinks about the mutants after class."
The other girl pelted her arm. "Lila, don't you dare!"
Feeling the heat rise to his cheeks, Larry covered his face with his hands. Cal elbowed him from the seat at his right, grinning wide and raising his eyebrows suggestively.
"Don't give me that look," Larry muttered, embarrassed.
"Oh come on, don't pretend you don't enjoy it. I wish I was in your shoes."
I bet, Larry thought glumly.
---
The school parking lot is crowded as usual after class ends, even with all the students staying after for clubs and practices. Students file into yellow school buses or loiter by their cars, gabbing with friends. Cal turns his baseball cap sideways, smiling that crooked smile of his. He's laughing.
"The problem with you," Cal says with a shrug of his shoulders, "Is that you think too much."
His back is turned to the traffic and he walks backwards, still chuckling.
"Cal, watch out--!"
"Augh!"
Voices broke out in the classroom as Larry fell out of his seat with a resounding thud. Alarmed classmates jumped out of their seats and looked over their desks to see if he was all right.
"Yes, Mr. Trask? Is something the matter?" The Advanced Physics teacher, Mr. Houston, turned away from the blackboard and stared at him. "Did you have a little nightmare?"
Someone sniggered behind Larry. He looked around the room as if coming out of a trance. For some reason he could have sworn he was in the student parking lot and Cal was…
"Mr. Trask!" Huston raised his voice, irritated that he didn't have Larry's attention. "This is most unlike you, Mr. Trask. Stay awake, and maybe I won't be tempted to call your father."
That made Larry pay attention. He got up slowly, suddenly reminded why this guy was his least favorite teacher. Yeah, students scream and collapse all the time. Nothing to worry about here, sir.
"I'm…sorry. I won't doze off again."
"Hmmph." Mr. Huston turned around and resumed his lesson. Larry was true to his word, but his thoughts remained far away with his half-forgotten dream.
Behind him, he distinctly heard someone whisper, "What a freak."
---
"Calvin! Hey, Cal!"
Greeting his friend with a "Hey, what's up?" Cal slowed down to let Larry catch up with him as he roamed the hall after final bell. "You still look like a wreck, man. Shitty day?"
On the wall was one of those cheesy motivational posters meant to inspire students: Study, and don't fail the test called life. Larry's gaze lingered on it.
"I fell asleep in class," he confessed after a beat, mulling over what he should say next.
"Which one?"
"Physics with Huston."
Cal cringed. "Ouch! I hate it when he uses that prissy, girly voice. 'Mr. Traaask, please refrain from sleeping in my cla-aaaasss.'"
"Ha!" Larry laughed in spite of himself. Looking straight ahead, he saw the double-doors that would take them outside to the student parking lot. The hair on the back of his neck stood up.
"Cal, wait." Larry took hold of his friend's arm, stopping him where he was.
Cal raised his brow. "What's up, man?"
Suddenly, Larry realized he didn't know what to say. What was he doing? After all, it was just a dream! But nevertheless…he…
"Don't go just yet."
"Why not?" Cal wasn't suspicious, just curious.
Larry blurted out, "It's not safe!"
Now Cal was suspicious. Maybe whatever hit Larry in the head had affected his brain, but he was starting to act weird. Normally, Larry was the very image of calm and collected, but the Larry Trask standing next to him was unnerved, even spooky-looking.
"What's not safe?" Cal removed his arm from Larry's grip.
"The parking lot."
"Hell, I know that! Have you seen those student drivers? It's like they think this is Deathrace 2000 or something!" Cal pulled his baseball cap from his backpack and started to walk without Larry.
"Wait!" Larry cried. "If you go out there you'll be hit by a car!"
Not only did Cal's head spin around at Larry's exclamation but other students hanging out around the halls were also startled.
"What the hell kinda talk is that?" Cal frowned. His grim expression quickly cracked, however. "Oh wait. That's like that TV show, right? The one that has the dude from Sixteen Candles, you touch me and you see me die or some shit? Funny, Larry, very funny, try harder the next time."
Larry hurried after Cal, as he threw open the doors and strode outside. Larry persisted. "No! I'm not playing around!" Eyeing the people that looked at him strangely, Larry lowered his voice. "I know I'm talking nonsense, but I had a dream about it."
"Huh! Okay, man, as long as you know you're talkin' nonsense."
"Okay, Cal, look, just take it from me that I have a hunch, all right?" Larry tried a new approach as they neared the location of his vision.
"A hunch?" Cal turned his baseball cap sideways, smiling a crooked smile. He laughed as if life was one big joke. "You know what your problem is? You think too much."
But as he said those words, Cal turned to face Larry and continued to walk backwards. He wasn't looking where he was going, and neither was the driver of a green Honda, who was fumbling with a soda can.
"Cal, watch out--!"
The senior in the Honda pulled straight out into the open student parking lot, plowing into Cal; shouts and startled gasps broke out at the sound of metal hitting flesh.
As with most accidents, it had happened too fast to stop—but it was not the sight of his injured friend that made Larry's stomach turn the way it did…it was the sickening sense of déjà vu.
"Calvin! Cal, are you all right?!" Snapping out of his stupor, Larry rushed to his friend's side. Cal's arm was bent and crooked from slamming into the car, but he hadn't been caught under the tires and there appeared to be no other serious damage. Larry shook his undamaged shoulder, trying to get a response. Momentarily in shock, Cal's eyes closed, and then opened. Making a pained sound in the back of his throat, his internal drive registered the fact that it was Larry looking over him.
"…You…!"
Larry drew back at the sound of that voice and the look of fear he had seen pass over his friend's eyes when he looked at him.
"Get out of the way!" barked the school nurse, who had been immediately called to the scene. She pushed Larry aside to help Cal, and, almost stumbling over his own feet, Larry tried to back away slowly and disappear from the gathering crowd. Some students made sure to step away from him, staring and then quickly averting their gaze. Larry didn't need to read minds to know that they had been the ones that had overheard his ravings to Cal moments before the accident.
Larry thought he heard a girl whispering his name, and sure enough, behind him at his right stood Jessica, looking unusually meek. His sister's friend who had once been so excited at the thought of holding his hand in hers and telling his fortune now regarded him as a stranger, or perhaps more accurately, a lunatic.
Larry rushed to his car, and drove home.
---
When Larry arrived home he was surprised to find that the door was unlocked. He hesitated, immediately suspecting prowlers, but was reassured by the voice that called to him from inside.
"Larry! How are you doing?"
It was Robert Chalmers, the man who lately was a bigger presence in the Trask siblings' life than their own father. Larry released a breath; of course Chalmers had his own key. The white-haired gentleman sitting in Larry's parlor was a sight for sore eyes after the events of the day.
"I'm…all right, sir," Larry replied slowly, not knowing what exactly he should say. "I didn't faint again, if that's what you came here to check up on."
Chalmers stroked his beard. "No, I didn't come here about that. I was worried about your sister and you with all this mutant business going on. Your father should be here with you two at a time like this, not me."
"You're right about that," Larry said with a sigh, sitting down on the leather sofa. "I think that's what Tanya's really upset about right now. Everything…changes…and Dad can't be bothered to pick up a phone."
"You, howeverdon't sound that upset."
"I should be," Larry conceded. "I'm the one who remembers what Dad was like before Mom died. She's grown up with him always being distant. But I know Dad isn't the worst father in the world, and we haven't done so bad, have we?"
Chalmers nodded his head. "Under the circumstances, no…Are you sure you're all right? You look pale."
"I'm all right," he repeated, not convincing either of them.
Chalmers looked him over. "Are you sure there's nothing you need to tell me?"
"No," Larry said with a hint of anger, "I don't need to tell you anything. But you can tell me how I can reach Dad."
"Your father is working on his project, and you know you can't contact when he's working on a project."
"You're the one who said he needs to contact us."
Chalmers scoffed. "Please, Larry, what makes you think I know these things? If the project is under wraps, which we both know it is, Bolivar wouldn't hand out his cell phone number to old retired business partners." He waved his hand, dismissing the subject. "Forget what I said. You were right, your father isn't terrible, so let him call you when he can."
---
Larry would have liked to follow his "Uncle" Robert's advice, but questions gnawed at his stomach all evening and into the night, and he knew his father was the only one who could answer them.
Dad's been working on a secret project for weeks, Larry recollected. I dream about the Sentinel, and it comes true. More than that, I know in my head that Dad's involved somehow. Hell breaks loose in Bayville, the whole world goes into shock, and Dad's cell phone doesn't ring. Something's up!! The pieces were beginning to come together in his head, but the greater image was still blurry.
"Mutants--just what are they?"
He lay in bed mulling over that question. It was all he could think about when he didn't dare sleep…or dream.
"God damn it," Larry cursed, sitting up in bed and throwing off the covers. I need to do something about this now. He opened his bedroom door slowly, hoping the old wood wouldn't creak and stir Tanya in the next room, and headed down the hall.
Looking at his father's bedroom door, Larry felt like a little kid again, one who had been told to never enter a room without knocking, and was forbidden to ever, ever disturb his father's work. The unwelcome feelings of nostalgia didn't deter him, however, and he entered. Larry flipped on the light and saw that his sister had been right; Dad hadn't unpacked his boxes, despite officially living in Summerduck for two months. That obstacle wouldn't stop his son from finding what he needed and Larry was quick to rip open the unlabeled cardboard boxes and rummage. Most contained clothes, personal affects, old family photo albums (of course Dad didn't unpack those) or books. The lack of sleep was beginning to wear Larry down when he struck gold with the seventh box. It contained several binders and manila folders detailing his father's projects. Most of it was lost on Larry, but what really mattered to him was the Rolodex containing a list of phone numbers.
Scanning the list of digits, his eyes stopped on the header marked BAYVILLE INSTALATION. Bayville, yes, Bayville; he remembered his father talking about the work in Bayville. Larry made a grab for the phone resting on his father's nightstand, and pounded the numbers on the keypad. It started to ring.
"Come on, come on, and please be there…" Larry pleaded with growing desperation.
Finally someone picked up. There was crackle of interference, but Larry heard the unmistakable voice of Bolivar Trask.
"Who is this?" He sounded angry.
"Dad, I know it's late--"
"Lawrence!" Bolivar hissed. "How did you get this number?"
His son told the truth. "I looked it up. Dad, I know something's going on with you and the Sentinel…"
"What did you say?"
"I dreamt about it. Something happened to me, and I dreamt about it before I saw it on television. I knew about it! And yesterday afternoon it happened again. I saw my friend get hit by a car, and it happened. What's going on?" Larry was glad he was alone in the darkened room. He knew he would look crazed to anyone else.
For several seconds Bolivar said nothing, and Larry feared that they had been disconnected. When he spoke again, he sounded much calmer and even understanding.
"We can't talk about this right now. The situation in Bayville is…deteriorating. Don't worry, son, I'll be back in Summerduck soon and I'll explain everything to you."
"But Dad--" Larry's words died on the tip of his tongue as his father hung up. He had sorely hoped for more information, but at least there was confirmation that Bolivar had answers for his questions. Burying his face in his hands, Larry took small relief from that fact.
Of course, he had no idea that the phone line was bugged.
To be Continued…
A/N: Another chapter done! This one had three appearances from the X-Men comics—Rev. Stryker, recognizable in X2 as a bitter military man as opposed to the crazed preacher he was in comics, Judge Chalmers, who played a big part in Larry's X-Men storyline, and Cal Rankin AKA The Mimic, who could, as his name suggests, mimic the powers of others, especially mutants. Considering Cal had a mad scientist father of his own, he seemed like a good candidate for the role of Larry's friend. The Cal here is based on the version that appeared in issue #6 of the Evo comic, but as that was not in continuity Cal has no previous history with Spyke or the X-Men in this fic.
bhoodfan: Glad you liked Tanya. I won't be getting rid of her soon, as she has a big part to play in things. (And I can picture her hanging out with Quinn…)
me: The reverse Wheel of Fortune card means a sudden turn for this worse, or major bad luck and ill fortune. So things are looking a little bleak for the young Mr. Trask.
Thanks for reading, everyone! --Sandoz