New World, Old Ghosts
By AquilaDisclaimer: I own nothing related to Dark Angel, just the thoughts in my head. Although I've created a whole bunch of characters these last few chapters I'm rather partial to, so please ask first.
Rating: PG-13
Email: hhinam@hotmail.com
Archiving: Please ask first.
Summary: Max and Logan come to the aid of a beleaguered cousin, while dealing with their own issues.
Spoilers: Post-Female Trouble. I had someone point out to me that my stories seem like chapters in a larger work and in a way I guess they are. They basically go in chronological order. You can read them in the order of Unfinished, Pas de Deux, Walking on Water and this one, filling in the blanks with the show. However all of the stories stand just fine on their own.
Author's Notes: My goodness how time flies. I promised I wouldn't give up on this story and I want to thank all of you for not giving up on me. I apologize for the wait. This one took longer than usual. Between my move and starting a new degree, things have been busy, but the momentum's still there and chapter 6 is in the works. Feel free to drop me a line anytime. I appreciate constructive comments. I hope you enjoy this.
Thanks to my overworked and under appreciated beta's Joy B., Chris and Jude for their help with this. Thanks to Jude for checking in on me now and then. Thanks to Joy for always finding my spelling mistakes and then having a good laugh (at least I'm consistent). Thanks to Chris for making tell the story of the horse.
Also, thanks to Lindsey, Ana and Danae for saying hi now and then and keeping me company and to all of you who wrote to encourage the next chapter.
Chapter 5
The wind sang through the towering spires of Douglas Fir, rocking the massive trees on their pliable trunks. The wind had shifted and a storm was blowing up the valley from the southwest, bringing the strong scent of rain on the cool night air. A muted flash of lightening briefly backlit the hulking shadows of the next range of mountains on the west side broad valley. It was a much broader valley than the one they had just left.
Through her extremely dilated pupils, Max surveyed the sawmill below her from her perch on a steep-faced ridge that dominated the western edge of the pass they had just crossed. The scene reminded her of the devastation that was her home in Seattle, a far cry from the pristine beauty of the hills surrounding the field station. The large complex was bathed in a dull orange glow from a smattering of halogen lights in the yard. It stood out like a blight on the dark forested landscape, cut off from the rest of the valley by barbed wire-topped chain link fences. The yard was filled with mountains of timber, piled in elongated flat-topped pyramids, stretching from one fence to the next.
Among the rows of wood, machinery sat idle, like giant robotic praying mantises, their immense jaws hanging menacingly over the logs. On the south side of the complex, the main building loomed like a great lurking beast, smoke drifting lazily from its towering smokestack.
Pulling her focus out to a wider field of view, Max let out a gasp as she took in the condition of the rest of the valley. Her eyes having become accustomed to the greater light afforded by the open area, she could now make out a checkerboard of gaps in the obviously once-continuous forest. Large gashes where the trees had been mown down stood out starkly against the velvety darkness of the remaining forest.
"Not a pretty picture huh?" Maggie's voice brushed at her senses as the wind teased at the curls hanging loose on her shoulder. She had been so enthralled by the sight that she hadn't heard Maggie bring Freja up beside her and Sigrid.
"One hell of a hack job." Max answered absently, still absorbing the view. The gaps stretched the length of the valley, climbing the steep slopes at impossible angles, like living wallpaper as far as the eye could see.
"Clear cuts." Maggie answered simply with a hint of disgust colouring her voice.
"Huh?" Max turned to face her guide inquisitively.
"That's what you're looking at," the older woman explained, sweeping out her arm to encompass the scene below. "The most destructive of forestry practices, but unfortunately also the cheapest.
"It looks like they just went in and mowed everything thing down." Max ventured, feeling a strange sense of loss at the thought of all the dense, almost magical forest around her being reduced to stumps.
"That's exactly what they did." Maggie answered. "Ever since the invention of the chain saw, there have been clear cuts. For a long time, it was the most common forestry practice out there. Swift, efficient and cheap. Foresters got the biggest bang for their buck. Then after the first Earth Day in 1970, the environmental movement really started to gain momentum and people started realizing just what was going on in our forests. The started to realize that clear cutting might not be all it's cracked up to be. Oh sure, the trees grow back… eventually; but these forests in the Pacific Northwest did not evolve to deal with large-scale disturbances. Some of these trees are hundreds of years old."
Max turned and gazed in awe at the massive trees behind her with a new sense of reverence. Hundreds of years, etched into their great trunks. She wondered at the stories they could tell.
Maggie smiled at her look of admiration and continued. "Things in this area really started heating up when the Northern Spotted Owl was listed as threatened in Oregon in 1975 and then federally as an endangered species in 1989. That meant their habitat, by law, had to be protected." Maggie chucked. "Boy did that stir everything up. You had the loggers on one hand, who were mostly just trying to make a living, the so-called tree-huggers on the other trying to save an ecosystem and the biologists in the middle trying to figure the whole thing out. It was brutal: court battles, management plans, demonstrations, spiked trees, and not just a few dirty deals resulting in the destruction of thousands of acres of pristine wilderness. It went on for years."
"All this over a bird?" Max asked incredulously.
"It wasn't just the bird. The idea was to save enough habitat for the owl and in the process, you'd save enough habitat for the other species in the ecosystem." Maggie snorted. "The jury's still out as to whether the umbrella species method works, but the theory's better than nothing. They'd been doing the same thing with grizzlies, cougars, wolves and other large carnivores further east."
"Ahh…" Max answered thoughtfully. She found herself fascinated by Maggie's story.
Her entire life had been spent looking out for no more than herself, even after all this time in the shadow of the great Eyes Only. She was truly amazed and humbled to discover that there were people out there devoting their lives to looking out for an entire region. It seemed unfathomable to her to have to deal with such sweeping issues and problems all for something that could never thank you. But as she took in the whispering woods that surrounded her, she felt a pull at her consciousness that made her realize it was a job not entirely without its rewards. She stifled a giggle as it occurred to her that Maggie was the Eyes Only of the forest.
"By around 2005, they started getting their act together. Biologists and foresters had finally started really working together to change the way things were done. Public pressure had a lot to do with it. The people buying the lumber and paper coming out of this region and other areas started caring about what was being done to the ecosystems to get that lumber and paper. Years of education and lobbying finally started to pay off and clear-cutting slowly died out. Instead foresters turned to selective harvesting where only some of the trees were taken and the owls and other animals were monitored."
Maggie was smiling as she remembered the hard-fought successes of her colleagues, but almost immediately her face darkened. "Then the pulse hit and everything went down the drain. It all went to hell. Suddenly everyone was focussed on their own survival. The technology we used to monitor and enforce forestry practices was gone in the blink of an eye. Most people moved into the cities to try and get by. Bergstrom's company started buying out all the smaller stakeholders and took control of the area. Universities and regulatory bodies were in a shambles and in just over a year, everything we'd ever worked for was lost and we were back to this!" she spat, gesturing at the destruction.
Max, awed by the passion behind Maggie's words, reached out across the gap between them and laid a tentative hand on her shoulder, marvelling again at the tremendous strength coursing through this rather unassuming woman.
Shaken out of her memories, Maggie glanced sheepishly up at her companion. "I'm sorry. I really didn't intend to turn that into a sermon. I'll get off my soapbox now."
Confused by the reference, but getting the gist, Max shook her head. "No… it's fine. I'm glad you did. I had no idea…" Smiling, she squeezed Maggie's shoulder. "You'd make a good teacher you know."
A smile tugging at her lips, Maggie let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "What makes you say that?"
Max's smile broadened in response. "Because you make people care about what you're telling them. Kind of reminds me of someone else I know."
Logan's cousin couldn't help but chuckle, despite her grim mood. Suddenly, the moment was lost as thunder rumbled low over the valley, echoing off the rising slopes.
"Dammit!" Maggie muttered under her breath as she turned her face skyward. "It's getting closer. Turning to Max, she continued, "Looks like we're going to get wet tonight; but I figure we've got a little less than an hour before it gets really bad."
Max nodded, watching Maggie as she slid out of her saddle. Mimicking the other woman's technique, she dismounted, marvelling at the shaky feeling in her legs, and pulled out her small bag of supplies from the saddlebag. Most of the equipment: flashlight, binoculars and rope, were mainly for show. Max wasn't quite ready to explain to Maggie how she'd get over the perimeter fence without help. However, one piece of equipment was necessary: the radio. Clipping the device to her belt, Max felt an unusual twinge of worry about leaving Maggie alone on the ridge. She desperately tried to trace the source of her worry, scanning the area for anything… anything that looked out of place. Nothing seemed wrong.
Pushing the unnerving thought deeper into her consciousness, Max turned to Logan's cousin. "Ready?"
"As I'll ever be."
Max frowned at the subtle waver in Maggie's voice.
"You going to be O.K.?"
"I'll be fine Max." Maggie smiled. "I've spent hours in the course of my research, standing around in the dark in the forest. I'll survive."
Maggie's words really didn't help Max's state of mind at all, but they had to get this over with. "You got your radio on?"
"Yep," the older woman answered, patting her hip.
"If you have any problems… anything, call me." She tried unsuccessfully to hide the worry in her voice.
"Same goes for you Max." Trying to lighten the mood and appease Max's obvious concern, she added. "Don't worry Max, Otus'll keep an eye on me." The big dog's tail thumped the ground enthusiastically at the mention of his name.
Max forced a smile. "'Kay, I'll be back in an hour… tops." She just couldn't shake the growing feeling of foreboding that gnawed at her senses. She had to get going now or she never would.
Suddenly, Maggie caught her hand as she was turning around. "Be careful Max."
A true smile lit up Max's face as she squeezed Maggie's hand. "You've been taking notes from Logan." With one last reassuring squeeze, she turned and disappeared over the ridge.
"Someone's got to look out for you two," Maggie said to herself with a smile as she watched her go.
***
The air, heavy with moisture, clung to Logan as he pushed himself at a reckless pace along the crushed gravel trail, oblivious to the pain that shot through him with every bump. As he rounded the corner next to the aviary, he gripped his wheels with a start nearly sending himself flying forward as Gabriel let out a tremendous "Whoop!" Wiping the beads of sweat from his brow, Logan stared at the stable before him as he collected himself, waiting for his heart rate to return to something resembling normal.
The building looked almost menacing in the gloom of the yard, its roof rising to a jagged peak against the inky backdrop of the cloudy night sky. Doubts swirled in his mind as he focussed in on the door in front of him. 'Can I really do this? Can I even get on a horse? Even if I find them, what am I going to do?'
Suddenly, the thought of finding Max and Maggie as Maggie had found Simon reared up out of the deepest reaches of his subconscious and bombarded his senses with horrible images, spurring him forward. A week ago, he had been prepared to throw it all away, now he couldn't reconcile himself to the idea of losing all he had left in one blow.
Pushing himself the final few feet, he slid open the doors, relieved when they glided easily along their tracks. Thunder rumbled closer now. Taking a deep breath, Logan wheeled himself up the low ramp and entered the darkened building.
The earthy odour that permeated the stable was overwhelming. The weathered walls muffled the sounds of the gathering storm. The air inside was musky and still, save for the occasional shuffle of hooves against the dusty floorboards and the sudden abbreviated whinny from somewhere in the darkness. One sound, however, overwhelmed everything: that of Logan's heart thudding loudly in his chest, furiously pounding in his ears to the point he could've sworn the sound reverberated off the stable walls.
Snapping out of his stupor and desperate for a distraction from the growing fear and worry that threatened to paralyse him further, Logan set about looking for a light switch. Reaching out with his right hand, his fingers found what he was searching for and the stable was bathed in a soft glow. As his eyes adjusted to the light, his gaze was drawn to the nearest stall on the left, which had been converted into a large storage closet.
As his hand closed over the doorknob, he was relieved to discover that his cousin still had some faith human goodness and had left the closet unlocked. Pushing himself into the dark space as far as the clutter would allow, Logan spotted his quarry, an old therapeutic riding saddle, rimmed with low bars on the back of the seat to help keep the occupant upright. It was lying on its side on top of a crate in the far corner of the storage room, blanketed in a thick mantle of dust from years of disuse… and completely out of reach.
"Damn it!" Logan swore to himself, which was answered by an explosive whinny from the stall behind him. If he didn't know better, he would've sworn the damn beast was laughing at him.
"Quiet Artemis, I'm about to put you to work." Logan muttered under his breath.
As he turned to give the offending horse a sour look over his shoulder, his eyes landed on just what he needed. A broom stood leaning in the shadows by the closet door. Flashing Artemis a sardonic smirk, Logan picked up the broom, and stretched it out toward the saddle. Straining from the blow earlier, he reached out as far as he could, the broom handle shaking with his effort to keep it steady. He released the breath he hadn't known he was holding as the wooden handle made contact with the metal bar and slipped under the rail. He'd hooked it.
Lifting it was another matter. Quickly taking one hand off the broom, he set the brakes on his chair and braced himself as he tilted the broom towards the ceiling. Painfully slowly, the heavy leather saddle rose awkwardly off the crate and with the sudden shift in weight, came careening down the wooded handle and landed in Logan's lap with a vicious thump, the safety stirrups clanking loudly against his wheel rims.
Gritting his teeth hard against the sharp pain that knifed through him at the impact, Logan dropped the broom. This was just the first step. Logan released his brakes and backed out of the closet. Dumping the tack on the floor beside him, he slowly spun on his wheels to face the horse that hopefully was going to take him to the rescue. Worriedly he glanced at his watch, his heart stopping when he realised just how much time had passed.
"You're just going to have to live without a currying Old Boy. There's no time." Logan whispered to the horse as he stretched up as high as he could to reach the bridle hanging next to the stall.
Artemis gazed down on Logan, his dark eyes glistening underneath his sooty forelock, betraying more than the usual amount of intelligence for a horse. The gentle giant held a special place in the Cales' hearts. Logan could remember the day Maggie had bought him. She did it for Louisa, at the time, Claire's 7-year old daughter.
Claire Sigurdson had been best friends with Maggie for longer than he could remember. She and her family had been the Cales' closest neighbours, a modest farming family who ran an orchard a mile up the coast. Claire and Maggie quickly became inseparable, always mucking through the forest, exploring the hills on their ponies or coming up with ways to exact revenge on Logan and Gideon for their incessant teasing. The two girls were actually night and day, Maggie, short with her dark blond hair and the fiery redhead Claire towering over her. Their personalities differed as much as their looks, but they always managed to get along, enjoying each other's uniqueness.
After high school, Maggie went off to Cornell and Claire stayed behind and studied to become a teacher, which was how she met her husband William. Maggie came back for the wedding and the next year for the birth of their daughter Louisa. Logan's cousin became the infant's honorary aunt and loved visiting with her little niece when she came home for the holidays.
"She was quite a girl wasn't she?" Logan murmured to the horse as he reached up and slipped the Hackamore bit of the bridle over the animal's nose. Memories washed over him of the charming little girl who brightened up the Cale family home her first Christmas, beautifully oblivious to the growing tensions in the household.
But Louisa wasn't like other girls. At the age of two, just one year before the pulse, she was diagnosed with Emery-Dreifuss Muscular Dystrophy, a very progressive form of the disease, fating her to a life shortened and made painful as her muscles slowly wasted away. The news was devastating to everyone, especially Maggie, but she was determined to help her friends make life as normal as possible for their daughter.
By the age of seven, Louisa was a bright and inquisitive girl. She loved to sing and draw pictures… and had been confined to a wheelchair for nearly a year. But she loved being outside. Claire would bring her up to see Maggie at Spirit Lake, where she was working on her Ph.D. The girls would spend hours on the lakeshore, either on the end of the long dock or under the twisted Douglas Fir that hung over a little cove nearby. From there, they would bask in the beauty around them; the rich smells of the forest, the warm gentle breeze off the lake, the cool water between their toes, the hum of the insects and the myriad of bird songs. Louisa loved it all and Maggie desperately wanted to show her more.
So for her seventh birthday, Maggie gave her Artemis. He had been a stunt horse, trained for filmmaking to be calm in almost any situation, and possessed of a much wider array of abilities than most others of his species. His trainer had decided to retire and Maggie jumped at the chance to buy him.
Logan felt every muscle in his back and shoulders cry out in protest as he strained to lift the heavy saddle over his head and onto the blanket he had already placed on the horse's back. Artemis was a big horse.
Too big for her, the slight seven-year-old had thought, but Maggie assured her she'd grow into him. Prior to the Pulse, the field station had doubled as a therapeutic riding centre for the disabled, a place where those who had problems with their own mobility among other things could experience the freedom of connecting with another living being and moving for the first time unaided. The program had died with the pulse, but the equipment remained and with a little Cale ingenuity and not to mention a little Cale money, Maggie managed to find Louisa a trainer.
Logan would never forget the first time he saw Louisa on that horse. Maggie had invited him up to the station to try and get his mind off his deepening feeling of uselessness that had consumed him after his divorce from Val and before he discovered his purpose as Eyes Only. She had told him she had a surprise. He had been surprised, all right. He remembered the pride that had crept over him as Louisa was led around the ring atop the massive beast. She just glowed with happiness and he found himself starting to think that just about anything was possible. After that day, the girl and her horse were nearly inseparable. Every weekend, they came to the station and she would ride Artie as she lovingly called him as long as they would let her. But she never did grow into him.
Louisa never made it to her tenth birthday. Cardiac complications as a result of her disease claimed her life even earlier than most. Logan was sure that Maggie had never fully recovered from the loss. Never wanting children of her own, his cousin had taken such delight in being someone's 'favourite aunt' and losing Louisa was just as painful as if she had been her own daughter. The riding tack was put away in the back of the storage closet and the trainer was thanked for his services, but Artemis stayed. Maggie just couldn't let him go. He stayed at the station as Maggie's only reminder of happier times.
The saddle secured, Logan heaved a pained sigh, checked his watch again, fear gripping his heart at the length of time that had elapsed in readying the horse. He wheeled around to face Artemis. Taking the reins, he tied them to the handles of his chair. Brushing his hand over the horse's muzzle gently, he muttered. "Well Artemis, Old Boy. Maggie needs you again… and so do I."
Gripping the wheels of his chair with weakening fingers, he led the horse out of the lighted stable into the murky gloom of the yard.
***
Logan breathed a sigh of relief as Artemis plodded along behind him as Logan pushed himself up the ramp to the mounting platform at the edge of the training track. He started as a clap of thunder rumbled low over the valley, announcing the approaching storm. The firs and spruces groaned loudly as they swayed on their massive trunks in the now howling wind. Logan spared a worried glance to the horse now next to him, but Artemis showed no signs of distress.
Releasing the reins from his chair and tying them to the support post of the platform, Logan eyed the saddle that was now at waist level with him with growing dread. The horse stood still, but Logan knew that transferring himself to the saddle would be much more difficult than moving to something like a chair. Louisa had always had somebody holding the horse steady and her trainer by her side. Logan found himself wishing he had invited Bling along for this trip, but wishful thinking wasn't going to save Max and Maggie.
Steeling his resolve, he pulled himself alongside Artemis' flank. His heart pounding in his chest was again making itself heard and he found his world narrowing down to focus on the sound. Forcing himself to slow his breathing, he placed his right hand on the horn of the saddle while he gripped the back rails with his left. His heart plunged into his stomach as the horse shifted slightly beneath the pressure.
"Please don't move Artemis … please." Logan breathed.
As his heart steadied again, Logan sucked in a desperate breath and lifted himself off his chair and onto the saddle in one quick motion.
The yard was suddenly bathed in the unearthly glow of a flash of lightning and thunder exploded from the clouds. Artemis snorted nervously and pawed the ground, anxious to move. The sudden shift nearly sent Logan toppling backwards. Desperately he held fast to the horn and the rails willing his dead weight forward again. His fingers, weak from pain, threatened to give out, but Artemis shifted again and Logan was thrown forward, righting himself. His breathing was ragged, frantically trying to fill his lungs with much needed oxygen as his pulse pounded erratically in his brain.
Logan forced himself to recover quickly. He had already wasted too much time. Hesitantly, he released his death-grip on the saddle horn and clutched his right leg. Slowly, so as not to startle the horse, he lifted the immobile limb and brought it over to the other side of the saddle. He was straddling the horse now, his upper body forced forward against the Artemis' neck. Straining against the ever-present pain, he reached down and clutching his left leg, he forced his foot into the stirrup. Repeating the action with his right foot, he pushed himself back and leaned against the rails behind him.
Though fear refused to release its hold over his heart, a small smile threatened to break from the corner of his lips. He could ride! Logan spared a glance at his watch. It had been a little less than an hour since he's regained consciousness. He had to make it in time. Leaning forward one last time, he released the reins and with a solid nudge to Artemis' neck with his hand, he spurred the horse into action.
They disappeared into the inky blackness of the forest as the first drops of rain splashed against the branches above them.
***