"No. I can't."

If Jesse's voice was a few tones higher than usual, Adam didn't comment. Instead he focused on the important part of the conversation. "Jesse, we can't stay here and I don't think phasing back into the outer cave into the midst of those ferals is the most sensible course of action. I understand that you don't like small places—"

"I don't like it in here either, Adam. This is no bigger than a walk-in closet. I need to get out."

"And you don't have to stay in here. Look, because of the dark you can't even see what's around you—"

"—and that's the only thing that's keeping me sane right now, Adam. There's a floor beneath me, and I can wave my arms. And I can hear a very short echo that tells me that this is a very small room."

"Jesse—"

"Out, Adam. I need to get out of here. Now."

"So let's follow Brennan."

"Into that tiny hole? No way—"

"Brennan did it," Adam interrupted. "Are you telling me that he can do something that you can't?"

"Not a problem, Adam. Lots of things he can do that I can't. Throw electricity, for one. Chug really bad tasting micro-beer, for another. And he has the mother of all gifts for picking bad dates. I could go on—"

"Please don't." Reverse psychology hadn't worked; Jesse had been reared on it. Time to bring out the big guns. Adam put as much command into his voice as he could. "Like it or not, you're going, Jesse. You can either go willingly, or I will drag you. So move!"

Silence. Shocked silence.

"Jesse?" Adam kept his voice stern.

"I'm going." Bitter. Defeated. Hurting, inside and out.

Gloating was not part of the picture, but Adam felt a certain grim satisfaction—and dismay. He had expected at least another five minutes before Jesse caved in—no pun intended—and the fact that the man hadn't fought harder spoke volumes of the damage that the beast mutants' cocktail had done. Jesse was a hurting puppy, and Adam wouldn't be able to tell how much internal damage there was until he could get him back to Sanctuary. They had been lucky that Jesse had been able to phase them into this cave pocket in the first place. Would he be able to phase them out? Would he live long enough to be able to escape with them? Not for the first time Adam wished that he knew what was in the ferals' potion.

He reached out in the darkness, taking Jesse's arm and guiding him to the narrow passageway, feeling the minute tremors going on under the skin. Terrified tremors, Adam hoped, and not the build-up of another seizure. That would be bad. Adam hadn't expected the last one, the one where Emma came and spoke to them; in fact, he'd been surprised and worried that it had occurred. It shouldn't have occurred: Jesse hadn't had any more of the beast mutants' potion in twenty four hours, and the effect should have been wearing off.

Obviously not, which meant that the poison was still circulating in the molecular's bloodstream. The scientific wheels started turning in Adam's head, making up for the lack of visual sensory input. If the poison was still circulating, then there was no way for Jesse's body to excrete it. But Brennan had felt no effects aside from a momentary nausea. Why? What was different about the two?

There was always the obvious. Though they both were mutants, one was molecular and the other elemental. The techniques that Adam and his fellow researchers had used on each had been very different, as different as Dr. Van Duyn's methods were that produced the beast mutants that they were fleeing from. Producing a molecular power required different techniques and protocols than producing an elemental.

Hm. Basic science had to be the answer; it always was. How did the pair utilize their gifts? Brennan essentially re-aligned the neurons in his body each time he wanted to fire off a lightning bolt, sending a shriek of electricity through those neurons and out through his fingertips. He used his own physiology and bent it to his will.

Jesse went a step further in the scientific chain. He didn't use his physiology as much as literally defy the laws of physics. He somehow mentally reduced the cohesive force between molecules, possibly between the elemental particles themselves, and passed the matter through. Or he increased that same force to the point where an oncoming force met its match. Not for the first time Adam wondered if he should bring in a physicist to work on the problem, not just a physician with a scant knowledge of nuclear physics.

Adam bumped his head against a rocky protrusion. "Ow." Light flashed in front of his eyes, but it was the light from the stars that he saw and not any physical manifestation.

"Adam?" Jesse used the excuse to stop. Adam could hear him panting, out of breath.

"I'm okay," Adam replied. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm here," Jesse said peevishly. "I'm fine as long as I keep my eyes closed."

"Jesse, it's pitch black. There's no light. You don't need to close your eyes."

"Yes, I do. It's easier to pretend that way."

Adam left it at that. If it worked, fine.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Brennan positioned himself underneath the hole to the outside. The opening wasn't large, and there was precious little to grab onto, but sticking his head above the dirt and stone had become very important. He had to see what was going on in the outside world. Would the beast mutants be waiting for him? Had they known that this place was here all along, and were just waiting for their captives to present themselves once again for easy pickings? If that were the case, then Brennan decided that a quick and final fight would be the best way to go.

This was going to be tricky. He needed to blast himself up to the hole some twenty feet above his head, grab onto something to hold himself there, look outside—and do all of this with one arm in a sling.

Piece of cake.

Right.

Okay, the sling goes. Brennan prudently slipped the broken arm out, knowing that it wouldn't work very well but that at the very least it would help him to balance in his upcoming flight. Taking a deep breath, rocking on the balls of his feet, he looked up at the bright light streaming in high above.

Whoosh!

The blast of electrons rocketed him skyward, the roof of the cave the only thing between Brennan and freedom. He reached for the opening, intending to hang on to the lip of the hole, to drag himself up and out if at all possible. Brennan snagged the edge, his power moving him just high enough to get him to the edge—internal smirk. Judged the distance just right. I'm damn good. He hung on by his fingertips, dangling in mid-air.

Okay, now what?

One-handed pull ups. You can do this, Mulwray. You've done it before. You've done one hundred of them at a time. Well… fifty. Twelve. Okay, they're a bitch to do, but you've done one-handed pull ups before and you can do it again and you're going to do it now.

Brennan heaved. No, don't frantically swing the feet, that will only dislodge your hand and your grasp is precarious enough as it is. Brennan slowly, agonizingly hauled himself up to the lip of the hole. He could see the grass trying to grow in, bending blue-green leaves and turning the dirt solid with a thick mattress of roots. Damn, the hole was barely as big as his head, didn't see how he was gonna be able to get out and look around and send up a smoke signal for Shalimar and Emma. More grunting, more hauling, and inch by hard-won inch Brennan lifted first his head above ground, then to the level of his eyes—he stared at the world outside the deep cavern below. Mountains, all around, all snow-covered, and all far away—

—and he crashed back down to the hard cave floor when the root-matted dirt finally tore loose.

He could've sworn that he didn't land on top of his broken arm, but it sure felt like it. He curled around his pain and declined to do anything else for several long, long minutes. The world would have to wait.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Not a trace." Shalimar had gone all the way through angry, raced through disgusted, and was now working on discouraged. She dropped to the ground in front of the plate that Emma was dishing out, staying as far away from the campfire as she could, feral-style. "Not a damn trace of any of them. No Adam, no Brennan, no Jesse, and no feral mutants." Tears were close to the edge. "Another mountain to cross off the list."

"Which means one less that we have left to search." Emma refused to give in to Shalimar's black mood. "There are only five remaining, Shalimar. And you've been covering a mountain every day. Shalimar, you've been searching over a hundred miles each day. That's an incredible amount of territory. You can't blame yourself."

"But we haven't found the guys yet," Shalimar returned bitterly. "They could be dead by now."

"They're not." Emma was positive. "I'd know. And I'll going searching again tonight, see if I can speak with Jesse or Adam again, see if they have any more information to give us. We're getting closer all the time, Shalimar. We'll find them."

"We'll find them," Shalimar echoed. But her shoulders drooped.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jesse's voice held a real note of panic. "Adam, I have to get out of here. I need to phase out of here!"

"No, Jesse!" Adam commanded. What a time for Jesse to start losing it. They were several yards down the narrow passageway, rocks above, below, and all around them and not a trace of Brennan or the outside world. Adam didn't blame Jesse for his panic; Adam felt that way himself. World closing in put it pretty well, even for someone not cursed with claustrophobia. And as narrow as this tunnel was, turning around to get closer to Jesse was simply not going to happen. "Don't! This is the middle of the mountain; you'd never make it far enough. You'd materialize inside solid rock!"

"I have to get out of here!"

"Don't phase!" Adam insisted. "Jesse, listen to me! Listen to the sound of my voice! You can do this. Just close your eyes, listen to my voice. I will get you out of this. I will get you out of this."

"Adam—"

"Not a sound. Keep your eyes closed. You have your hand on my ankle; I'm leading you forward toward Brennan and the way out. That's why we haven't seen Brennan. He's found the way out. He's outside, Jesse," Adam lied. "He's in the fresh air. We're going to him, out of here. We're getting out of here. This is the fastest and shortest way out."

"Out of here." Jesse was making a good faith effort to cooperate. "Adam, this is a very narrow passage."

"And it's going to get even more narrow." Adam could feel the slender tube of rock with his hand, and he refrained from wincing over the slimy fungus that grew along the edges. "Just remember, if Brennan could squeeze through, so can you. There are advantages to being the shorter member of the team."

"Yeah? Bet you can't name another one." Still trying to cooperate.

"Basketball," Adam shot back.

"B-ball? How does being shorter than Brennan help with basketball?"

"You keep winning, don't you?"

"Yeah, but that's because I'm just naturally better at sinking hoops."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Jesse retorted.

Adam smiled. His young team mate already sounded better, his attention on something other than his current predicament. But—

"Adam, it's getting smaller in here." And Jesse's voice was getting weaker.

Spoke too soon. Or thought too soon. Whatever.

"It'll open up soon," he said reassuringly, trying to tell himself that the weariness in the molecular's voice wasn't getting worse. Then, with surprise: "Hey. There's a light up ahead. I think it's Brennan."

"I thought you said you already saw Brennan's light." Barely audible. But still complaining gamely.

Adam ignored the complaint. "C'mon, Jesse. We're getting out of here. It's not much farther."

No answer. And the hand clutching his ankle for guidance and support slipped away.

"Jesse?"

No answer.

"Jesse, wake up. This is not the time for a nap." Adam grew alarmed, and frustrated. The tunnel was barely big enough to contain him, and turning around to look at Jesse was out of the question. "Jesse, wake up!"

No answer. Adam's heart plunged.

No help for it. The only possible way to go was forward, with or without Jesse. Backing up wouldn't help. It was some several yards to where the dim light flickered ahead of him, and hopefully a place where there was enough room to turn around and go back for Jesse, to drag the man to where Adam could work and save his life. Another thought terrified him: what if Jesse, unable to cope with his claustrophobia, had tried to phase out of the tunnel? "Brennan!" he called.

"Adam?"

Yes! "Brennan, what's your situation there?"

"There's a way out, but it's a little difficult to get to." Understatement of the week. Willing to build a ladder, Adam, but need the tools to do it with. And the lumber. And the nails. A credit card would help; we can buy an extension ladder with a lot of sturdy rungs.

"How large is it where you are?"

"Pretty big. Like four times as large as my bedroom back at Sanctuary."

"Good. Listen, I've got a problem here."

"Let me guess. The problem's name is Jesse."

"You got it." The levity touched neither of them. "I don't know whether he's unconscious or has simply lost it in these tunnels, and I can't turn around to check on him." Adam refused to believe that their teammate was now dead, re-materialized in the solid granite of the mountain.

"Yeah. Pretty tight quarters. You've got like twenty feet of tunnel, and then you're here."

"Good. Listen, I need something to pull him out with. Is there anything there that we can use as a rope?" Adam was already tugging himself forward, squirming around the rocky outcroppings toward the light and Brennan, leaving Jesse behind. Praying harder than he'd ever prayed before.

Brennan looked around. And looked around some more: nothing. Rocks and boulders. A slender stream with stupid white fish. Even the tree roots that dangled from the top of the cavern were too thick to bend or too tiny to provide the needed support.

No help for it. He pulled his arm out of its sling. Don't know why I have this, he grouched. Not really using it.

Adam slithered out of the tunnel, nearly falling on top of Brennan as he too tumbled the four feet down to the cave floor with a startled shout. Brennan couldn't help the grin; in the dim light allowed by the hole at the top of the cave, Adam looked a mess. He was covered in pallid white slime, clothes ripped and torn, and had somehow picked up a shiner in the last twenty four hours. Must have been in the last fight, Brennan surmised. Didn't do too much looking at each other after Jesse phased us into the cave. Not enough light to do the looking with.

Adam had other things on his mind. "Rope?" he asked.

Brennan held out the remnants of his shirt and sling, the tatters torn and knotted into nearly four feet. For the first time Adam really looked at Brennan, and noted that the elemental was now shirtless.

"Best I could do," Brennan offered.

"I'll take it." Beggars can't be choosers. Adam hoisted himself back up into the slender tunnel, using a nearby rock for leverage to slither back in, the make-shift rope in his hand. "Stand by to help pull us out." And Adam disappeared into the gloom of the tunnel.

"Drop in again," Brennan invited to no one in particular. He flexed his arm in its splint, the wood holding the bones steady. Okay, one good thing about this entire mess: my arm is definitely on the mend. Hopefully I'll live long enough to see it heal entirely. He sighed, and stepped up onto the same rock that Adam had used and peered into the dark and foreboding tunnel. He sighed once again, and went in after his mentor.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Adam found new rocks and stony outcroppings that he had missed on his hurried passage through the tunnel the first time, with each protrusion armed with an obsidian knife edge, he was convinced. I can spend my convalescent time counting the number of bruises, he thought. Just let me get my team out of here alive. The make-shift rope that Brennan had cobbled together was clenched in his hand, rubbing along his own flesh to add rope burns to the bruises.

He squirmed his way over and around the narrow tunnel, heedless of the blood he knew he was leaving behind. How far back had he left the molecular? In the dark it had been hard to tell. It was in the slender portion of the tunnel; Adam knew that if he got to the point where the passage widened up enough for him to crawl on hands and knees then all was lost. That Jesse was lost, phased into solid rock. Someday, someone will dig him up like an old fossil and wonder how homo sapiens managed to get caught in rock several millennium years old. Won't that confuse the archeologists of the future?

His questing hand found something soft—and it wasn't slime. It had fingers! Adam seized the hand, went for the wrist, and felt for a pulse. For one horrified moment he thought that it wasn't there, but no: there it was, slow and steady. "Jesse?"

Nothing. No answer.

But the pulse was there, and the flesh warm and reassuring. Where there's life, there's hope. The tunnel was too narrow to check anything else, and Adam had to content himself with tying the rope around Jesse's wrists to use as a tool to help them progress toward freedom. Then began the arduous journey back to the cavern that Brennan had found, inch by hard-won inch, wriggling backward and then pulling the limp body along.

It took far too long, but there was no better option. Sight was worse than useless; Adam kept trying to squint to better his eyesight toward the molecular and, as always, lack of light defeated him. He found himself wishing futilely for a chromatic to be part of his team just so that he could see Jesse and reassure himself that the man was still breathing. Drove that one away, didn't you, Adam? Wonder where that particular chromatic ended up, and how she's doing for herself? Never mind; if past history was anything to go by, she'd turn up someday, out for his blood. Just like all the other mutants he screwed up with. Great epitaph for his tombstone: Adam Kane, the man with good intentions, currently on the road to Hell.

Something—someone—grabbed his ankle. He almost yelped until he realized that it was Brennan, scooting along behind him.

"It's okay, Adam." It was good to hear Brennan's voice, deep and reassuring. "You're about ten feet from the opening. You got him?"

"I've got him." Adam was pleased to be able to offer his own reassuring words.

"Alive?"

"Alive." Adam nodded, even though the gesture couldn't be seen. He squirmed back another few inches, drawing Jesse with him. A rock scraped his ankle, and he could feel another trickle of blood leak into his sock. Damn.

Then he felt Brennan grasping that ankle, heedless of the blood, to drag him more quickly toward the opening. Adam grabbed onto Jesse's wrists, both of them, not bothering with the rope, and allowed the elemental to haul them both out of the narrow tunnel. Knew I kept the man working out for some reason. Broken wing or no, the man was strong. It wasn't just for his mutant abilities that Brennan Mulwray was part of Mutant X. Three arms man-handled the molecular down to the cold and hard floor of the cavern that Brennan had found.

First things first: Adam took advantage of the meager light that the hole in the roof of the cavern allowed in to examine his patient and didn't like what he saw: color poor, a trickle of blood edging one side of his mouth. Bruises all over, but that could be from both the fights back at Beast Feral Central as well as the rough passage through the cave tunnel.

"Adam?" Impatiently.

"I'd like to get him out of here." Adam side-stepped the implicit question. "Soon. And your arm needs treatment as well, something better than a couple of sticks and a tie."

Brennan wouldn't let him dodge the issue. "What did that poison do to him? And why am I not like that?"

"Good question."

"And you have something close to approaching an answer."

Adam sighed, realizing that Brennan wasn't going to let it alone. He tugged out a handkerchief that he had in his pocket, using the clear stream to moisten it to wash the dirt and blood off of Jesse's face. "I'm working with a lot of unknowns here, Brennan."

"So, make a guess. You've done it before."

"All right." Adam sat back, satisfied with the cleanliness but not the condition of his patient. "Best guess: it has to do with the fact that he's a molecular and you're an elemental."

"Didn't think it was the color of my hair."

Adam ignored the interruption. He peeled back an eyelid and tried to peer inside; the meager light defeated that forlorn hope. "Your mutation takes advantage of the electrical structure of the body. The body works on electrical impulses: the heart beat is controlled by electric signals from the brain, your muscles are told to work by electrical signals coming again from the brain. What your mutation did was to enhance those electrical conduits to the point where you can power up the voltage of that electricity and direct it to another point outside your body. That's an over-simplification, but it's pretty much how you work."

Brennan nodded. This was not new information to the elemental. He had researched his own condition as thoroughly as he was able, soon after meeting Adam and Mutant X. "And Jesse?"

"That's a little more difficult to explain." Adam frowned, collecting his thoughts. "Jesse's own mutantcy is based on the fluid nature of his cells. One way to describe it is that the molecules in his body are in a constant state of flux. They don't remember whether they're solid, liquid, or gas. Only Jesse's unconscious control keeps him solid. Then he takes conscious control of himself and phases into another state of matter. It's kind of like willing your heart beat to speed up or slow down. Difficult, but some people can do it."

"But he can do that to other objects. Like creating door in solid walls."

Adam nodded. "Right. Again, under conscious control, Jesse has learned to extend that power over the state of matter to things that he is in physical contact with." And I really wish that I had a nuclear physicist on the team to help me learn how he does that. "And that brings us back to Bartholomew and the others. Somehow, through sheer coincidence or luck or I don't know what, they've come up with an herbal preparation that bypasses the conscious control that a molecular has and allows them to alter their feral state of matter to one that is more pleasing to the feral. From what they've said, I think they experimented on another molecular that they kidnapped, much as they did us, and didn't realize that they needed a molecular. They thought that they only needed a mutant with reasonably good looks."

Brennan started to understand. "So they grabbed me, thinking that I could help them." He indicated his team mate, still asleep on the cold cave floor. "So why am I not like him?"

Adam smiled. "One, you never really got much of the potion into your system. You never digested much; you tossed your cookies just moments after they forced it down your throat. Two, and more importantly, they weren't able to get you to shift your molecules. You don't have the proper mutancy to do that, and I think that is the major issue at hand. Jesse is recovering from some major density shifts. You know how wiped he is after those. They require a tremendous effort."

"Right." Then—"and?"

"And?"

"And?" Brennan repeated, starting to cross his arms and thinking better of it when the bones in his arm objected. He settled for cocking his head.

Adam had the good grace not to push any further. "The potion that the ferals came up with has managed to de-stabilize Jesse's body," he admitted reluctantly. "That's how it works. The density is de-stabilized, and they used that to alter their own body chemistries and DNA. I'd love to get my hands on a sample," he added wishfully. "It would advance the state of genetic science by a decade at least. For molecular mutantcy, though. Wouldn't do much for elementals and psionics. Might work on ferals," he mused. "Hm. Feral to feral transfer." He came back to himself. "That's why I told Emma to tell Shalimar to keep her distance. The potion doesn't work on you, Brennan, but it might on Shalimar."

"Emma." That brought up the other issue that had been plaguing the man. "How are we talking to Emma? I mean, this is the first time I've ever seen her materialize like that. Has she always been able to do that?"

"I have to admit, I'm clueless on that one," the older man said wryly. "Of all the mutations, psionics is the one I have the hardest time researching and studying. One day I'm convinced of one thing and the next something happens that sends all my theories out the window. Even Emma herself keeps saying that psionics is more an art than a science, and it's times like these that I'm inclined to believe her."

"But we did communicate with her?" Brennan insisted. "It was really her, and not a figment of my imagination?"

"Oh, you saw her all right," Adam agreed. "And yes, communication did take place. I don't think it will ever replace our comm. links, but it'll do in a pinch."

"So how about now?" Brennan asked. "How do we get it to work? Are we being 'pinched' enough to try it again?"

"I'd rather not." Adam looked pointedly down at the sleeping molecular. "Every time it's happened, Jesse has been in a post-ictal state. He suffered a seizure," the scientist translated. "A seizure is where the electrical impulses in the brain go haywire; it's like when all the software in the computer tries to work at the same time. The computer freezes, and, essentially, so does the brain. My best guess is that Emma somehow took advantage of that situation to come through and communicate. But I don't recommend it as a routine form of discussing current events." He gestured at the sleeping mutant. "Witness the results."

"Right. No seizures." Now Brennan understood. And now that he understood, he could go back to worrying at the current problem. "So how do we get out of here?" He jerked his thumb at the hole high above their heads, the opening allowing only a meager stream of photons to enter. "We seem to have forgotten to bring a ladder."

"Hm. Yes." Adam turned his attention to the immediate issue. "I see two problems: one, it's not large enough to get through and two: it's too high. All right, one at a time: Brennan, do you have enough juice left to enlarge that hole?" Basic science time again, Mr. Wizard. Only this time science may help.

"Yeah, but it's not gonna be quiet. And those ferals have good ears."

"Can't be helped," Adam decided. "We need to get out of here now, get you and Jesse to civilized help. Most of the noise should be concentrated down here inside the cave. If we're lucky, the ferals will think that it's just a minor earthquake, or even a truck rumbling by on a nearby highway."

"There are no nearby highways," Brennan pointed out. "We've been looking for them, remember?"

"Whatever. Go for it, Sparky."

Brennan shrugged. Whatever happened now, they were in control of their own fate. Brennan could blast out the hole at the top of the cave, and he did. Taking careful aim and carefully regulating the amount of wattage, he shot a lightning bolt of electricity that carved out a man-sized hole at the top of the cave ceiling. Rocks and debris showered down upon them.

Brennan brushed the dirt off of himself, now grateful that he was bare-chested. One less thing to get dirty. Never liked that shirt much anyway. "Adam?"

Adam crawled back to his feet from where he'd flung himself over Jesse to protect the injured man from the rocks. He surveyed the results: the hole was large enough to get through without difficulty. "Good work. Now, get up there and head out."

"What?" Brennan couldn't believe his ears. "Adam, I am not leaving you behind."

"Yes, you are, Brennan," Adam contradicted. "The only way we're going to get out of here is if someone can go for help. It's either you or me, and I'm not equipped to fly out of this cave. You are. And you can keep the ferals at bay with a few well-placed shots. I can't."

"You can't defend against them," Brennan pointed out desperately. "Without me, both of you are sitting ducks. What if they find you in here? There's no way out."

"Or we can sit here and starve to death over the next few days," Adam told him. "Brennan, move! Go!"

"Adam—"

"Brennan." It was Jesse, voice weak but determined.

"Jesse." Brennan knelt by the man who was closer than a brother. The shadows in the cave made his face look worse, if anything. The water in the stream trickled noisily behind them. Brennan ignored the environment. "Jesse, we're going to get you out of here."

"Yes, you are, Brennan." Jesse coughed, more blood trickling out. He wiped it away with a determined hand. "Brennan, go. Bring back help."

"I'm not leaving you behind, man."

"Yes, you are, Brennan," Jesse repeated. "You heard Adam. And everyone for ten miles around heard that explosion. You have to leave now. Escape, and bring back Shalimar and Emma. That'll even up the odds real quick. Go to somewhere where the comm. links work. Go, Brennan," he repeated. "It's the only way."

"Go," Adam echoed. "And hurry. Before the ferals come to investigate."

Brennan tightened his lips. "All right."

Three days, and his arm felt better, even if not completely healed. Adam was right; his electrical nature did have a positive effect. Brennan balanced himself, and powered up.

The blast shot him high into the air, and he deliberately landed as gracefully as he could to avoid jolting his arm. And the additional height gave him an opportunity to swiftly survey the surrounding territory: snow-covered mountains all around, the mountain he was on was the only one still free from ice although that status wouldn't last long as fall moved toward winter. Worse: he saw Bartholomew leading two other ferals up the mountainside toward his position, moving fast.

All right, lateral move. Run across the mountainside until he was far enough away so that the beast mutants couldn't see him, and then make his way down the slopes. He started out, trying his comm. link as he went. "Shalimar? Emma? Anybody hear me?"

Only static answered him. But several yards in front of him, coming in from the side, were another feral or two. Oops. No escape that way. Only way out is to head up the mountain. Damn. That'll take longer to get out of here. Brennan swiftly changed direction, heading upward, scrambling over the rocks in his way.

No good. More mutants coming down from the top. Brennan did a quick three-sixty: ferals all around, all heading straight for him—and the opening to the cavern where Adam and Jesse were. All aiming for one slightly abused elemental.

No help for it. Brennan darted back to the opening to the cavern. "Look out below!" he yelled before jumping in, feet first.

"Brenn—"

Brennan landed on his feet, the shock sending major pain signals from his broken arm to his brain. He hissed with the agony, but channeled it into a lightning blast that sent the ferals scrambling back out of the line of sight of the opening twenty feet above his head.

"Sorry, Adam," Brennan groaned, catching his breath. "They were all around me. I wasn't going anywhere."

Adam slumped back in dismay. "Then that's it. We're finished."

"Yes, you are," Bartholomew called down, careful not to stick his head over the opening where Brennan could shoot it off. Brennan did indeed send a slender shaft of lightning out through the hole, just to remind the ferals to keep their distance. "Give up. You're not going anywhere. We win."

"Not yet you haven't," Brennan growled, tempted to throw a major blast, just to take out the feral.

But Adam stopped him. "Conserve your strength, Brennan. Conserve your power. We may need it."

"All right." Brennan consoled himself by throwing merely an angry glare toward the hole, but Bartholomew and the other ferals had gotten the message: Mutant X wasn't ready to give up. Not yet.