Roses for Algernon
By OughtaKnowBetter
Disclaimer: not mine, and in a bunch of years the copyright protection will run out and they won't belong to anyone else, either.
Notes: I've always wanted to do a post-season three story, but nothing until now seemed to work properly. This is a stand-alone semi-sequel to Flowers for Algernon's Grave, using some of the same characters that have been begging for another shot at Mutant X (again, as requested by some of you!). Let me know if it sounds interesting, and if I should continue…
The big rig hurtled down the highway, twenty tons of metal and rubber leaving the speed limit in the dust. The immense box that it hauled bore some collection of unimportant letters indicating that someone, somewhere, desired a great deal of something to be delivered elsewhere for an undisclosed and undoubtedly outrageous price. The cab to the truck itself was somewhat larger than usual, designed for many days of continuous usage and capable of carrying more than a simple driver and spare, and was covered in dust that was rapidly being rattled loose by the excessive velocity.
But not one of the people inside said truck cab was attempting to slow the driver's technique.
The truck driver himself kept his attention on the road, trying to coax additional speed out of the engine built for its hauling power rather than rapid transit, making instantaneous decisions about whether to dodge the bumps in the road or to simply bull through and trust that the weight of the truck would flatten anything in its path. Neither option was truly acceptable; the secondary goal was to minimize trauma for a certain occupant in the far back of the cab.
His co-pilot hunched over a map, barely stifling her anger over what the hapless piece of paper was telling her. She irritably pushed long dark hair back over her ear to get it out of the way. "Don't these people believe in health care? Thismap says the nearest hospital is over one hundred miles away in every direction."
The driver flicked a worried gaze, trying for over his shoulder at the back of the cab but only reaching as far as the woman on the seat next to him. "How far?" Terse. Scared.
Lexa Pierce too glanced back into the interior of the cab. She could see what Brennan Mulwray couldn't spare the turning power for: Shalimar Fox lying on the miniscule excuse for a bed, eyes closed, skin pale—and face scrunched up in pain.
But not a sound did she make.
True feral to the core, she bore the agony in stoic fashion, refusing to let more than a tiny whimper escape even when the truck failed to turn a tarmac lump into a tarmac pancake. Sweat bedraggled her hair, and she clutched at her midriff in a mute appeal for relief, but not a sound did she utter. Not one complaint.
Jesse Kilmartin did that for her. He stroked her forehead, trying for the only comfort he had to offer. "Any faster, Brennan?"
"I've already got the pedal to the metal." It wasn't funny, wasn't meant to be a joke. "This thing won't go any faster. How is she?"
"Doing better," Jesse lied, knowing that everyone else knew that he lied—including Shalimar. "I think her fever is down." Lie. "She's feeling better, too. Right, Shal?"
"Right," she gasped, biting her lip as the truck hurtled over yet another bump. Jesse wiped her face with a rag, removing the drop of blood that she'd accidentally brought forth when clamping down. "What's that?"
"What's what?" Lexa looked back, trying to figure out what Shalimar meant.
"That noise." Shalimar closed her eyes. "Machinery. An engine."
"Not the truck." That was obvious. But, even sick as Shalimar was, Lexa wasn't about to doubt the feral's hearing.
"Chopper."
Lexa craned her head around, trying to see upward out of the truck's cab. Then she heard it as well, echo-located, found it in the sky. "Shal's right. Bogie at two o'clock." She started to unlock her seat belt. Photons danced around her fingers. "I'll get it."
"No. Wait, Lexa," Jesse said. "The speed we're going, it could be the state troopers trying to keep us from turning the armadillos into roadkill. Hold off."
"Why? After this run, they'll want us just as badly as the remnants of the Dominion. And I have no intention of spending the rest of my existence in some meager excuse for a jail in the middle of Midwestern nowhere, Jesse. We need to get Shal to a doctor right now."
"If it's the police," Jesse replied evenly, "they'll be able to transport Shal faster." He jerked his thumb upward. "Check 'em out, Lexa. Maybe they can play ambulance."
"It's not the state troopers," Brennan said, looking in his mirrors, not letting up on the gas. "It's a chopper, and it's unmarked. If it were the highway patrol they'd have cars coming up our ass. Their patrol cars are a lot faster than we are. You think it's what's left of the Dominion?"
"Moot point," Lexa said. "They've dropped back behind us. I can't see the chopper, can't shoot it down if I can't see it. They're behind us, hiding behind the box we're hauling. I need to get up on top of the cab to take it out."
"That's my cue." Jesse rose from Shalimar's side. "Madam asked for assistance?"
"I'm going with you," Shalimar butted in, trying to get up, only to sink back down when her insides objected in no uncertain terms.
Worry etched Jesse's face. "It's okay, Shal. We've got it covered. Stay here for now."
"Jess—"
"Shal."
"Oh, all right," she grumbled, as relieved as anyone and still scared. Jesse watched his 'big sister' a moment longer to make sure that she'd stay down, then clambered forward in the cab to join the other two.
"I'll keep the truck steady," Brennan said. "Still no sign of the cops. Whoever it is up top, they're not here to ask the time of day. Take 'em out, guys."
"Let's move, Jesse. They're coming in fast."
Thump. From the box they were hauling.
"'The Eagle has landed'," Jesse murmured. "Stay behind me, Lexa. Good chance they'll be armed."
"Good. Then I won't feel as guilty when I blast them."
Jesse's smile didn't quite reach his face; there was too much at stake. Sanctuary was gone, Adam gone, the Helix gone. Nothing left but the four of them here, on the run and desperate. More desperate now—Shalimar was ill. Expiry date? Jesse hoped not. If it was, all the medical care in the world wouldn't be good enough. Adam himself hadn't been good enough, though Jesse had no doubt that the man, wherever he was, was still doing his best to work on the problem.
Don't get distracted, Kilmartin. Jesse exhaled, phasing himself and Lexa insubstantial to pass through the metal cab of the truck onto the roof. A rapid shift—difficult, but not impossible—and he turned himself to a shield too dense for any bullet to penetrate. Would it be enough? What weapons would this unknown assailant have brought? If it was the Dominion, photon couplers would mow him down and Lexa would be left unprotected. Wind hurtled past his face, Lexa clinging to his back to keep from being swept off the top of the cab.
The chopper had settled on the trailer box being towed at breakneck speed, listing in the gale-force winds of speed. Two men clambered out, guns in their grasp. Lexa summoned the laser beams in her fingers that would sear them into oblivion. She aimed.
"No!" Jesse suddenly yelled, knocking her blast skyward.
Lexa yelped. "Jesse—!"
But Jesse had moved on, carefully, clinging to the truck against the wind. "Ben?"
"Jesse?" One of the men, the big one—make that huge!—lowered his weapon. "Really you?"
"Yeah, me. What're you doing, man? Why're you here?"
"You know this guy?" Lexa was still ready. Just because Jesse knew the giant who had dropped onto their truck unannounced didn't mean that the remnants of Mutant X wasn't still in deep trouble. Lexa knew plenty of people who would like to see her fried to a crisp whether or not the Dominion was intact.
"Yes," Jesse shouted back against the wind. "Helped him out a couple of years ago. Before your time, Lexa."
Lexa just looked at Jesse. Do you trust him?
Maybe.
"We've got to talk," Ben yelled, hoping the wind wouldn't rip away his words. "Stop the truck."
"Can't," Jess shouted. "Shalimar's sick. Need to get her to a doctor."
And Ben's mother was Dr. Beatrice Sutter, medical physician and expert geneticist, good enough to have worked at Adam's side. A whole hell of a lot better option than the local community hospital where you wondered which doctor slept through what lecture. With the expiry date hanging over their heads there was still a lot of trouble to work through, but something was better than nothing.
"Stop the truck," Ben repeated at the top of his lungs. "Load her aboard. We'll get her to help. We'll take her to Mother." Then he looked serious. "But, Jesse, there'll be a price."
Jesse didn't even need to consult any of the others. "We'll pay it."