Huge thanks for all the reviews – it's great to get your feedback and it's a lovely reward!
Thank you Alaidh for a sterling job once again! It's a pleasure to be hassled by you. Sorry about the stubble!
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CHAPTER 12
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Max struggled to emerge from the cloying darkness that was dragging her irresistibly down, down, down.
Her eyelids felt like iron doors – heavy and rusty, slow to open.
Blearily, somewhere ahead she thought she could see a hint of light through a bank of mist.
She could only stare at it dully, wondering what it was, wondering why she seemed to be lying by the riverbank, wondering why her head ached.
Lifting her head and leaning forward on her arms, she was surprised to find the wind had almost completely died down and that the trees now stood silent and still in the darkness of the night.
Max cautiously looked around. She felt uneasy. None of this made any sense – the silence, the stillness, the almost total darkness.
Okay, maybe not so dark…
All of a sudden Max's eyes had something to focus on and she found herself totally absorbed in watching what had been a tiny flickering light now grow in size and intensity.
Max knew she should react, be prepared, anticipate. Why was it that all she could do was stare transfixed as a shadowy form began to emerge, almost as if from the very heart of the light itself.
For a confusing moment, the darkness merged with the light and took on the form of a single misshapen entity, before the shadow emerged again from the kaleidoscope pattern and took on a shape she recognised.
Max uttered just one word.
"Zack."
She wasn't sure how she knew it was him…she just…knew.
"Max. I need to get you outta here. It's not safe."
She could see him clearly now, her eye caught by the black leather clad arm he extended to her.
"Max, Lydecker knows where you are. We've gotta go!"
Max felt a wave of relief - at last something in the confusion of the night made sense. I shoulda known he'd have my back. He hasn't given up on me. He's my CO…I just have to obey…
Nearly everything inside Max wanted to obey, as she stared again at his outstretched hand.
"Max! What are you waiting for?" She could sense the urgency in his voice. His blue eyes searched her face so intently that she felt he could read her every thought.
Max lifted her arm; Zack would look after her. She was cold, tired. She'd felt alone for so long. What's wrong with having someone to look after you…having someone you can connect with?
His words were like a soothing balm. "The only person you can rely on, Max, is me. Everything else is just a lie…"
Max slowly reached out to him. The only thing she was aware of was the hand in front of her. Time seemed to stand still….everything…all her life…everything she'd ever done seemed to hang on this one moment.
Zack would be her security…she was tired of running…she just wanted to stop…stay in one place…feel safe…be part of a family.
"Where will we go? Will you take me to the others?" There was almost a childlike appeal in her tone.
"Sure. We'll go to San Francisco…meet up with the others. We're family, Max."
Zack smiled down at her, taking a step closer. "I'll take you away from all this…away from Seattle…you'll like it in New York."
Max's heart seemed to skip a beat. "New York? You just said we'd go to San Francisco."
Zack shrugged. "Whatever - the further away from here the better."
Max nodded her understanding, smiling a little. She liked the way the light reflected off his hair…like a silvery halo…like a saviour.
Zack's hand reached out further, his fingers all but touching hers, but now Max's hand faltered just the tiniest amount. Just lookin' out for my meal ticket. How many guys can cook and save the world?
Max didn't know what Zack had read on her face, but suddenly the appealing smile vanished and a steely, bleak coldness glinted in the blue eyes.
Max's mind began to wander, uncertain now with pinpricks of doubt. She could dimly remember another time, maybe not so long ago when she hadn't felt alone.
Zack spoke again but this time his words were calm, coaxing. "You're a soldier, Max. The only person you can rely on is me."
Max didn't move. Something's definitely whack here.
"Everything else is just a lie. It's phoney sentimentality, and it will get you killed. Now, let's go." He held out his hand imperatively to her this time.
Max heard her own words with surprise. "No, Zack, I don't wanna be a soldier!"
Zack simply ignored her, his face set in purposeful lines. "I'm getting you out of Seattle tonight. You're risking tactical exposure."
This time Max stared at the figure in front of her as if he'd been stripped naked. The disappointment she felt was crushing. She'd believed him…she'd been completely fooled. "I thought you wanted what I wanted. I thought we could connect."
Basic human impulse…not wanting to be alone.
Max started, staring into the darkness. She knew that voice.
"You can't stay with him." This time a note of anger pulsated in Zack's voice.
"You tried to trick me," Max yelled at him as a coldness swept through her that she'd nearly agreed to go, nearly agreed to leave Seattle…her friends…Logan.
Zack didn't coax, instead he came closer and closer until he loomed over her.
"Zack…" Max pleaded, wanting him to understand, but her eyes now flashed a deep-set fear. It wasn't Zack's hands reaching out to grab her arm.
"No!" she tried to scream but, when she opened her mouth, no sound escaped and when she tried to get up and run her arms and legs refused to cooperate. Max strained and strained, but it was as if she were buried from the neck in the finest sand. No matter how hard she tried, she didn't seem to be moving, and all the time she could see Lydecker's face getting closer and closer and closer.
Max gagged as his hand covered her mouth, but instinct won out and she bit down without mercy.
Her next response was pure Manticore:
Grasp the forearm.
Bend at the waist.
Pull forward.
Flip over the shoulder.
Stomp down hard.
Max's chest rose and fell unusually fast for her as she stared down at the face that was slowly turning an interesting shade of red - it's not always easy to breathe when a boot is pressed hard against your windpipe.
For a moment, Lydecker's face wavered, and Max risked running a hand quickly across her eyes and clammy face.
When she looked down again, her vision swung into sharp focus, and Max could only stare blankly at the face.
"Tex, damn," Max muttered, blinking several times to make sure that this time she was back in the land of the living. Still breathing hard, she couldn't resist looking around to make doubly sure that neither Lydecker nor Zack were lurking somewhere. She was surprised to find that the wind still whipped at her hair – the mist and the stillness had been as much of an illusion as Zack had been.
Well that sure creeped me out, she thought dryly as she found herself standing alone by the river, save for Tex, whose scrawny neck was most definitely feeling the sole of her boot. None of it made the slightest sense. Kinda like Sketchy when he's got his drink on, she thought hazily…then a little clearer…Kinda like Sketchy even when he hasn't got his drink on. Her eyes narrowed suddenly – she had a clear picture of herself filling the water container.
"Listen to me, girlie."
"Shut up," snapped Max sharply as her mind cleared further. Damn, if I've been in the Land of Oz, where's Logan been?
With a warning to Tex that she'd break his arm if he said another word, Max hauled him to his feet and pushed him in the direction of the Aztek.
Poggs had been unusually tired the night he died, her mind reminded her callously. So what, she shrugged mentally.
It doesn't mean anything, she muttered inaudibly as her mind pointed out that Logan had been tired, too. You were making him coffee to keep him awake.
"It's been a bitch of day. He probably pushed himself too hard," she asserted under her breath as she determinedly shook off the last effects of whatever she'd succumbed to.
Not that hard.
"He's just not used to dealing. It's hard for him in the chair out here."
He's jammed up and you didn't even see the flags. How come you never came to the real that it was just like Poggs – he probably fell asleep then…
"It's not the same freakin' MO!" she finally snapped as she shoved Tex behind a tree with her so that she could do recon of their camp.
If the old soldier heard her words, he said nothing as Max virtually pushed his face into the rough bark while she stared ahead with a set face.
She quickly took in Logan's laptop, still set up on the camp table. She could see the pile of clippings stacked next to it. The wind was still doing its best to tug at them from under the rock Logan had been using as a paperweight.
What caught her eye the most was Logan's empty wheelchair, left skewed untidily in front of the tailgate. Max stared at it, trying to ignore the lump of churning ice in the pit of her stomach. She knew how particular he was to always leave it within arm's reach - no way could he reach it from inside the tent where it was now.
Barely opening her mouth, Max hissed to Tex, "Okay, we're going in. Just keep your mouth shut and do what I say."
Without acknowledging the slight nod from Tex, Max pushed him forward.
Steeling herself, she approached their tent, eyes impossibly dark against an expressionless face.
"Logan!" she called quietly as she walked towards it.
Receiving no answer, she pulled back the flap and looked inside.
His bed was empty. The tent held no one.
Max turned on Tex, cold fury pumping through her blood as her hands sought his throat.
"Where's Logan?"
The words came out raspy and strained. "They've got him… I told you… they'd come."
"Who's got him?" Max snapped back.
"Can't…talk…like this," the older man struggled to get out.
"Sure ya can," Max answered uncompromisingly as she eased the pressure on his neck only to squeeze a little tighter. "Now where the hell is he?"
Tex only shook his head as he stared at Max.
In spite of herself, Max had to admire the old man's coolness as she looked into the steely, grey eyes.
Ease up on him, Max.
Max rolled her eyes as Logan's voice echoed in her mind. What, I can't even have my own badass conscience now?
Max glared back at Tex, as much annoyed at herself as she was with Logan for corrupting her but, reluctantly, she eased the pressure on his neck. "You packin'?"
"Nope."
Max removed her hands and quickly searched him, anyway, while Tex massaged his throat and tried painfully to swallow.
"It's not real sociable to stick your boot in a man's neck, girlie. Or your hands for that matter," he added dourly.
"Yeah? Well next time I'll snap it. Now, where's Logan?"
"Take a look down that-a-way," Tex told her in a hoarse voice, casually motioning with his thumb further along the main road of the campground.
Max glowered at him for a second or two, wondering if the old soldier was up to something. After rubbing his throat for a bit, Tex looked at her, meeting her gaze without flinching. "You wanted me t'sing?" he taunted her, obviously enjoying her indecision.
"Just don't forget that you've still got plenty of verses to go," she snapped back tersely as her eyes drifted towards the direction the old man had pointed.
It was only then that she realised all was not as it should be. The campgrounds were way too bright in that area. That was the light I must've been looking at, she realised with a frown, wondering how she could have missed something so obvious.
"Come on. Get moving" she commanded Tex harshly, reaching down to grab one of his sinewy arms when he was slow to move. "You can show me. Maybe we'll find out if you can dance, as well," she purred threateningly in his ear as she none too gently twisted the arm she held up behind his back.
Max shoved Tex ahead of her, quickly moving to the roadway where she could get a clearer view of the campground.
She looked in the direction of the horse trailer.
Logan's words echoed in her mind - A missing plane, strange lights in the sky…unusual noises.
Max's breath caught in her throat. "Okay," she murmured under her breath, "so this is even more whack."
The horse trailer was bathed in an incredibly bright light, but even weirder was the sight of two men in white biohazard suits.
Their ponderous movements in the harsh glare of the two mounted spotlights against the velvet blackness of the dark night made them look like astronauts on a moonwalk.
Only I'd lay odds that they're not here for the greater good of mankind, mused Max darkly as she looked at the automatic rifle each one somehow managed to grip in his gloved hands.
"Who the hell are these guys?" she whispered curtly to Tex, not liking what she saw.
"Dunno, girlie, but they always turn up after a killing."
"That where Logan is?"
"You thought that was just an ordinary horse trailer?" the old soldier grunted a little smugly.
"Why don't you just cough up the juice without the smart-ass comments," Max snapped back.
Tex nodded his head wryly. "It ain't a horse trailer – it's a lab-or-a-tory."
Max paled a little at his words, unconsciously easing her grip on Tex's arm. In her mind, the word 'laboratory' meant only one thing.
"How do you know that?" she asked, outwardly calm even though a host of other emotions surged through her.
"I've been in there."
His words made Max turn her head and stare at him to search his face carefully. "So Mueller's involved in all this?" she murmured incredulously, shifting her eyes back to the trailer from where they stood, merging with the shadows.
"Every time there's been a death up here, he turns up with the granddad routine and the stroganoff," Tex told her, not trying to hide his disgust.
Max tore her eyes from the trailer and swung Tex around so that she could look at him. A wise man would have told her anything he knew as soon as he'd seen that look in her eyes. Tex wasn't dumb.
"Yeah, I got the invite to dinner and the knock-out drops, just like you and your friend Logan," he added quickly.
"How'd you get away?" Max asked suspiciously. They'd been played once already that night by Mueller, she didn't plan on making the same mistake.
Tex laughed outright at her words. "I didn't. They let me go."
"They just let you go?" Max asked with raised brows.
Tex shrugged. "I'm just telling you how it happened. One minute I was getting ready t'turn in, the next minute I was in some kind of a weird dream, only it turns out some of what was happening was real."
"So what happened?"
"They dumped me back in my tent. Made it look as though I'd simply got into my sleeping bag like I always do up here."
Max frowned at him, trying to make sense of his rambling style. Her brain didn't seem to be working at its normal speed.
The grey haired man shook his head at her. "You don't get it, do you?"
Max stared at him for a moment then, making a decision, she let go of his arm. "Why don't you explain it to me," she suggested finally, her growing frustration evident in her voice. "Firstly, when did this happen?"
"Must have been about four years ago, about the same time o' year. The campgrounds were pretty quiet even then. Maybe there was about half a dozen people staying up here. Old Mueller over there turned up the day a young guy from a group of hikers mysteriously collapsed and died."
"And?" Max prompted, barely holding onto her patience with the other's slow, meandering manner.
"Well, I bumped into Mueller in the can. They had hot water here in those days. We got talking… told him I'd spent the day on the trail. Said how I'd passed the young buck who died up on one of the tracks near the homestead."
Max frowned at his words. That's where Logan went today. The old man's story was starting to make sense.
"Mueller invited you to dinner and drugged you?" Max hurried him.
Tex nodded then continued with a wry grin. "Only thing is he blew the dosage or something 'cause I was half aware of what was happening."
"What did happen?"
"Funny thing is…nothing much. He jabbed me with a few needles, took a gallon o' blood, did a few other tests like blood pressure and temperature…then dropped me back in my tent as if nothing had happened."
Part of Max breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn't happy with the idea of Mueller running unknown tests on Logan, but it could have been a lot worse.
"You don't know what the tests were for?" she asked with a frown.
"If I knew that, I wouldn't be hanging around these parts. Ya see, I don't take too kindly to being worked over," the old soldier explained grimly, "and I don't take too kindly to murderers, either."
Max nodded vaguely, but her mind was occupied analysing Tex's story. "You say Mueller knew you'd been on the trails up near the homestead?"
"Yep, and I'd hazard a guess that you haven't been near those trails today, but your friend has."
Max grimaced, remembering her argument with Logan by Mueller's campfire. Damn, we were both chumps. We played right into his hands.
Noticing a movement, Max looked back to the horse trailer. The two biohazard-suited men were heading inside.
"You know what that means?" she asked tersely.
Tex looked at his watch with a shake of his head. "They've had Logan in there for almost an hour."
"Is that bad?" Max asked quickly.
"Well, it's longer than I've seen anyone else in there. Mueller's usually pretty quick. Maybe him being in a wheelchair an' all makes a difference." Tex peered at her in the darkness. "I've never seen anyone come outta there harmed in any way," he told her gruffly. "Best thing you can do is head back over to the river where you fell. That way they won't know that you're onto their game."
Max hesitated. Right then the prospect of kicking Mueller's ass seemed very tempting, but one thing held her back. What if this was some government-controlled op…maybe even Manticore? She'd make things worse for both her and Logan if she burst in there like superwoman and showed them all she could be. Mueller may not have anything to do with Manticore, but there was a very good possibility that to anyone in the scientific world, Manticore wasn't quite the secret they hoped it to be. After all, Logan had heard about it…how many others had, as well?
Another movement from the direction of the trailer forced her to make her mind up quickly as the huge searchlight suddenly swung in their direction.
"They'll be bringing him back. We've gotta move!" Tex warned her, starting to pull back, away from the probing glare.
Max hesitated another instant before making up her mind. She didn't like the idea of having to base her decision on Tex's advice but he seemed to be the one with all the experience.
Not entirely happy, she split with Tex and headed back to the river.
"I'll be watching you, Mueller," she promised, but her words were whipped away by the a sudden gust of wind and carried far into the night.
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"Logan…Logan…Logan."
Someone was calling his name.
One of the nurses?
He groaned inwardly. More tests, more prodding, more probing, more x-rays.
"Logan."
Maybe if I ignore them, they'll go away…leave me in peace.
The voice he could ignore, but someone using his shoulder like a rhythm instrument was another matter entirely.
"What is it?" he mumbled, feeling decidedly pissed with the world.
"Logan…it's me, Max."
Opening his eyes, he saw a face hovering above him - it wasn't even remotely like any nurse he'd ever had attending him in the hospital.
For a moment he could only stare at the slightly blurry vision with a kind of blank wonderment before the jumbled jigsaw pieces of his mind began to slot into something that resembled order. "Max?"
"Are you okay?"
He raised both eyebrows. It seemed to be a leading question.
"We were played, Logan," she told him bluntly.
Logan looked at her blankly. Only a few short minutes ago he'd been plunged back into the first uneasy days of life as a paraplegic at Metro Medical and the images still clung vividly to the edges of his mind.
Max saw the confused look on his face and remembered with empathy her confusion when she'd first woke up by the river. "It's a bitch, I know," she agreed sympathetically.
As this comment didn't produce the desired affect, she sat down on her sleeping bag, narrowly avoiding his glasses that had, in the confusion, somehow ended up on her side.
"I'd better break it down for you," she told him. She waited for him to pull himself up and lean back against the driver's seat before handing him his glasses, and then proceeded to fill him in as much as she could on all that had happened over the last few hours.
"…they brought you back here, just like Tex said they would and I've been waiting for you to wake up ever since."
"What's Mueller doing now?"
"He's gone."
"Gone? Where?"
"How would I know?" Max shrugged. "Just…gone. He pulled out not long after they brought you back here."
"You didn't follow him or at least try to find out where he was going?" Logan asked, clearly annoyed.
"Maybe he had to go deliver a basket of goodies to a sick aunt or something. I don't know, Logan!"
"Max. He was our only lead," Logan spelled out for her carefully.
"They bring you back looking like death warmed over from a guy who, for all I know, is a fan of Josef Mengele's and you think I'm gonna just blaze and run out chasing a lead? And maybe you're forgetting that your car is presently our tent!" she finished hotly.
"Thanks for the reminder," Logan acknowledged tersely as her wrath finally reached its peak.
He had no way of knowing that she'd spent a long time agonising over whether or not to leave him and try to follow Mueller when she'd seen the signs of him packing up. On the other hand, she wasn't sure if she should just break camp herself and head back to Seattle where she could get Logan to a doctor. She hadn't enjoyed the twisting in her gut of doubt and uncertainty. She remembered how she'd outwardly shrugged off Theo's and Jacinda's concerns, done nothing except feel bad, and look what had happened to him. She had only Tex's word that Logan would be all right, and that fact didn't instil in her a great deal of confidence.
Risking a quick glance in her direction, he added, "I wasn't thinking."
Max recognised this as the closest thing to Logan actually saying he was sorry, so to make it clear to him that she saw it as such she said, "Apology accepted."
"Guess all this'll teach me to play Sherlock Holmes," he remarked dryly as he glanced out the window. It was still dark out, but he could hear a few birds starting their early morning chorus.
"You don't remember anything?" Max asked him intently.
Just hospitals and pain and operations and tests…the look on Jonas's face…the first sight of me in a mirror…
"I mean in Mueller's lab," Max prompted, feeling a little awkward that she'd caught a glimpse of an unusually unguarded expression on his face.
"Not sure; it's all kinda confusing right now," he answered shortly.
"It's the candy…messes with your mind," Max told him quietly, remembering her own experience. Even now, the nightmare by the river with Zack still lingered with amazing clarity. Looking back on it she'd realised that it had been a mixture of real conversations she'd had with Zack and other things her mind had simply conjured up. She wasn't used to nightmares - she didn't sleep. Only when she was in the grip of a seizure did they bother her.
Logan vaguely nodded his head in acknowledgment of her observation before muttering, "Right," but Max suspected he was far from 'right' and she wondered what memories had jammed him up.
She hadn't told him about her own dream – how real it had seemed, how it brought back old fears she'd thought were long buried. Nor had she told him that she'd finally woken him when she'd seen how troubled his sleep seemed to be in the grip of whatever drug Mueller had plied them with.
"Needles," Logan's voice interrupted her thoughts. "I remember needles."
"Which arm?" Max asked quickly, before adding a little awkwardly, "Supposing it was an arm."
Logan grinned, "I'd have preferred my ass," as he pulled up the left sleeve of his sweater and examined his inside elbow. Without a word he held his arm out for Max to see – several puncture marks and a slight inflammation were clearly visible, even to someone without her enhanced vision.
Max frowned. They only would have needed to stick Logan once and they could have taken as much blood as they wanted. Keeping her thoughts to herself for the moment, she said, "Tex said they took a heap of blood from him. Remember anything like that?"
Logan frowned, trying to remember, but whatever had happened to him in the hour he was with Mueller was inexplicably tied to his memories of Metro Medical and he found it almost impossible to separate the two in his mind.
"Anything at all?" Max prompted. "We need to know what they did to you. We've only got Tex's word that they took stuff out. Not trying to sound sinister here but what about anything Mueller could have put in?" she finished significantly.
The thought brought Logan up short. He definitely didn't like the idea of that. He gave Max a wry look. "You have a point."
"Keep thinking. I'll check outside and make us some coffee."
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Left to himself in the gloom of their tent, lit only by the solitary flashlight Max had left by his side, Logan tried closing his eyes and concentrating on the darkness in his mind, but that seemed to chase away any images rather than recall them.
Logan was reminded that dawn wasn't far away when he heard a raven let loose with its first caw of the day. Damn things, he muttered probably spent yesterday feasting on the deer by the homestead site.
He could vaguely hear scraps of noise outside - Max lighting the stove then putting the coffee pot on the burner. He wondered how cold it was out there. The wind seemed to have died down a little but it was still gusting quite strongly by the sound of it.
A sudden thought came to Logan; he grabbed the flashlight and lifted the sleeping bag that covered him. He was thankful to see that he was still fully clothed right down to his shoes and socks, although he suspected lying down in his shoes was going to put pressure on all the wrong places.
For a moment he stared at the feet sticking out the end of his sleeping bag, wondering idly if they really belonged to him when his eye caught an almost imperceptible trace of movement on the bag itself. In a split second he'd flicked the bag off his legs and tossed it to the other side. Quickly grabbing the Maglite again, he leant forward and shone it carefully around the car's interior. A thorough inspection revealed nothing and he leant back again thoughtfully.
Something's a little strange here, Logan, he told himself uneasily as he let out a long breath, absently rubbing a hand across the stubble on his face. He wasn't sure how he felt but he knew he didn't feel entirely normal - if I even know what 'normal' is these days - more like a vague disorientation. He had to suppose it was the lingering effects of whatever drug it was Mueller had slipped him.
Thankful for something to concentrate on, he reached down and dragged his right foot towards him, resting his ankle on his thigh. Once he'd pulled off the shoe he began massaging his foot, hoping he was aiding his sluggish circulation. He wasn't surprised to find that his foot felt cold even through his sock. His mind then wandered off to wondering why Bling had become a PT - why anyone would want to spend their life rotating someone's ankle and flexing useless limbs.
You know he does much more than that.
Oh yeah, Logan told his mind cynically, he has his theories about people walking again and he forces me to do endless reps that are meant to do... something!
Suppressing a sigh of frustration with a tightening of his mouth, he wondered what the hell he was trying to achieve out here. You hardly ever went camping even when you could walk, let alone now. You shoulda just gone home…looked the other way for once…let it slide. What are you trying to prove out here, anyway?
Swapping legs and dragging his other foot within reach, Logan swallowed hard. He had the sudden doubt that maybe he was in too deep – not just deep, but waaay over his head. He knew Max wanted them to go back to Seattle. Maybe she was right…maybe no one cares what happened to a drop-out med student who wanted to turn his life around, try again, pick up the pieces.
"My supposition was right - it's a recent injury, bullet by the looks of it, just below T8 level."
Logan's thoughts stopped abruptly.
He suddenly had a fleeting glimpse of Sam Carr in hospital whites, a surgical mask covering his face.
His foot was forgotten as he tried to capture the images he'd uncovered, unexpectedly hovering at the edges of his memory.
Lying on his side…in a hospital maybe? Someone prodding his back…waiting for the sensation of feeling to stop as the hand trailing down his spine moved lower and lower.
Squinting…damn that light is bright…fighting to keep his eyes open…failing…falling then slipping back into darkness.
Somewhere behind him voices murmured…talking low…slow, measured…some kind of a commentary…Discovery Channel – 'Modern Marvels of Medicine'.
"You realise we've never had a paraplegic before – this is excellent, excellent."
Tensing for the pinprick then a ribbon of red trailing from his arm.
A figure standing over him…blood flowing through tubing.
A sudden awareness, knowing that something wasn't right…feeling trapped…wanting to move…struggling.
"It won't be long now, my boy. Just relax."
Reassuring words, almost fatherly, but he found no comfort in them. My father never spoke like that…not Sam...
"Might as well add some caffeine to the candy we've already got surfing in our blood streams."
Logan looked up to see Max coming back, juggling their coffees in one hand as she swung herself in. "You okay?" she added quickly, all trace of a smile gone as she saw his face.
Logan hesitated, feeling the tug of both worlds.
"You remember what Mueller did to you?" Max prompted sharply.
"Some of it," Logan answered abruptly, wondering how much he wanted to tell her. There was too much wrapped up in the hazy images of the night that he wanted to keep locked away, certainly not exposed to Max.
Max regarded him steadily for a moment before wedging their coffees down in the space between the air mattress and the seat. She sat down on her side. "Wanna share?" she finally suggested as she watched him reposition his legs, unaware that her gaze was making him feel self-conscious.
"If I can," Logan answered evenly once his task was complete. He wasn't sure where to start or how to explain it to her. Eyes Only dealt with facts, not with hazy recollections and dreams. "I remember seeing a doctor looking at me. First of all I thought it was my own doctor, Sam Carr…turns out it was Mueller," he told her finally if a little cryptically.
Max simply nodded, intently watching his expression as the car imperceptibly grew less dark. Am I finally gonna get some of the 411 on what makes Logan Cale tick?
"It was like I was inside some sort of hospital examination room…bright lights, lotsa metal surfaces, smell of antiseptic. Clinical," he told her quietly, focussing his eyes on some invisible point ahead.
Max nodded, for a brief moment swinging back to a childhood of experimentation in a room such as the one Logan described. Sometimes it was hard not to shudder.
"They were looking at my back, discussing my injury." Like I was a prize specimen. "Something about not having had someone like me before." Logan risked a quick glance at her then moved on quickly. "I remember opening my eyes and seeing the tubing in my arm where they were taking some blood."
"You don't remember anyone sticking a needle in your skin and pumping you full of dope?"
Logan shook his head. "The only other thing I remember clearly is a man in hospital whites standing over me. At first I just assumed it was my neurosurgeon, but something about him didn't seem to add up."
"Damn. Mueller," Max finished for him. A feeling of pure, cold dread had crept over her. "You don't think that…I mean…this sounds like Manticore to me," she finally got out, looking directly at Logan.
"From what you told me, Manticore is interested in perfection, not in someone like me," he added dryly.
Max remembered the small, still child on the table, the saw in the doctor's hand, the empty bed next to hers that was never filled. "Not always," she told him darkly.
Logan looked at her and realised with empathy that they both had the taste of bitter pills in their mouths.
"This should be cool enough to drink by now," Max said, changing the subject abruptly as she handed him his coffee. "I finished going through the box of clippings while you were out of it." Max said, digging a hand into her pocket. "Found this."
Curiously, Logan reached out and took the yellowed cutting from her hand. 'Private plane crashes in Murchison Woods,' the headline announced.
"See when it went down?" Max prompted.
Logan raised both brows. "Twelve-oh-five, June First, 2009. Time the Pulse hit."
"Now take a look at the photo of the guy who died."
Logan lifted the cutting closer to his face so that he could study it more intently. The quality of the photos was poor and grainy. He remembered the scramble by the big newspapers to find more traditional ways of printing when the Pulse hit and fried their computers.
"I wonder when this was printed," he commented to Max, wishing the whole page had been saved. "I don't recall there being newspapers for quite some weeks when the Pulse hit."
"The photo, Logan," Max reminded him. "Look like anyone to you?"
Logan squinted at it, trying to imagine the change in the middle-aged man's features that ten years plus would bring about. There was a vague familiarity to someone…
"You don't recognise those Teutonic features? Just replace the hair with grey, add lotsa wrinkles," she suggested.
"Horst Mueller?" Logan stared hard at the photo, beginning to see the resemblance once Max had pointed him in the right direction.
"Either he didn't die in that plane crash or Mueller's this guy's twin brother."
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To be continued…