Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except Naomi, Irbis and several innocent short-lived bystanders; everything else is Marvel's only.
5. The Runaways
He followed the trail without the slightest problem. Even if he hadn't had the chance to follow their scent, he'd been able to follow their trail. Half an hour later, Sabretooth heard a helicopter's rumbling sound coming closer. He instinctively crouched under a thick vegetable cover. He heard the machines going north and grinned. Help had just arrived. And right on time to pick up the ashes of their prized project, too.
He stretched, smiling in his good mood. There's nothing like a plan that goes smoothly. He knew the original plan had long gone wary, but he couldn't care less about that. Things were looking great now.
"And that's what counts!" he couldn't help telling the trees on his way.
Shortly after, Sabretooth reached a wide shallow stream running in an even wider bed of rounded pebbles. The runaway leader's trail disappeared in the pebbles, and her scent was erased by the flowing water. He smiled, delighted: the woman had not only chosen the stony path as a way to erase any visible tracks; she had dived in the water in a successful attempt to wash off her scent. And she had done this in spite of the cool weather! Unfortunately for her hard effort, her colleague hadn't been so smart. Not only the dim-wit had avoided walking on the pebbles, she had kept aloft of the water as much as possible. He easily followed her trail along the stream.
A couple of hours later, the leader's path was once more clear. Sabretooth whistled at the woman's smarts: she had kept walking on the pebbles until she dried, so as not to leave a muddy track that any asshole could have followed. If it hadn't been for the other woman, he'd have had to lose precious time looking for the slightest clues in the stony stream-bed. He wondered why such a smart lady wouldn't just part ways from her companion, who was obviously ruining all her careful procedures. Not that he wanted her to do that: it'd make him waste time, having to go after one, and then having to go after the other… Nope, this was much better.
The morning was coming to an end when the wind brought the scent of fresh blood. The two women's scent was mingled in it, as well as the scent of two other people… two smelly men, actually. He growled, annoyed, and darted forward, the sound of a woman screaming already reaching him as the perfume of blood reeked in the spring breeze.
Just before he reached the site of the attack, though, he heard a despaired howl that was almost inhuman. He held his ground for a split moment, startled by the unexpected sound, but plunged forwards again as the howling continued. A couple more strides and he reached a battered, muddy track in time to see a man kicking a woman just a few feet from him. He caught the man and immediately killed him, but his eyes were already on the second man who was still howling like mad. Sabretooth cocked an eyebrow; boy, did that guy had good reasons to be doing such a racket!
He was half lying on the ground, supported by his left arm, and trying desperately to use his right arm to get his entrails back where they belonged. But it was in vain: with each movement, whit each convulsion and desperate spasm, the whole bloody mess just kept slipping off the long, jagged cut in his abdomen.
Just a few inches away, laid a bloody military knife on the mud. The hallowing was starting to give way into the desperate whimper of a man who realizes there's nothing he can do besides waiting for death to come… and is scared shitless. In a smelly way, on top of that.
Sabretooth decided to ignore him for the time being, since he wasn't making much noise anymore. He turned his attention to the women. The blondie had just finished crawling closer to the poachers' jeep and was now rocking herself, crying and muttering in German. Her white and blue pyjama top was torn, showing her torso's pale skin; the trousers were down to her knees, and she hadn't even tried to pull them up. She was in her early twenties, he guessed, and looked indecently helpless. The dark haired one, who had been kicked by the poacher, remained carefully quiet nearly at his feet, lying on the mud as her hands still protected her head from any further kicking. He couldn't see her face, but her small body told him she was just a teenager, and the back of her pyjama top, torn and tattered, told him that she had fought her assailants with enough energy.
He glanced at the German woman, still weeping and rocking herself. That one had finished losing her wits. A movement caught his eye: the black haired woman had let go of her head and looked up, at the body of the man who'd been kicking her.
"So ya're the fearless leader, huh?"
She straightened quickly, her brown eyes wide and fearless, and took in Creed from head to toe. There was no hint of fear in her, only fierce determination, as she remained kneeling at his feet. Sabretooth grinned and motioned at the dying man and at the knife on the floor.
"You the one who did that, ain't ya?"
She didn't follow his motions, just stayed there showing no sign of understanding him. He grunted, annoyed, and went over to the poacher's car to inspect it. It was a dark-green Jeep Wrangler, and the guys had been driving it without the canvas roof and with the windshield folded flat, while wolfing down plenty of beer, from the presence of the cans. There were a couple of blankets and backpacks on the rear, along with two packed tents, rifles and ammunition. He shuffled around and found the men's documents in the glove-compartment, along with maps of the area. The car belonged to Mathew Kinston Jr.; married to a curly haired suzie-homemaker and with a toddler girl for a daughter, according to a photo in the guy's wallet. They lived in Grafton, North Dakota; and they were Bartholomew Lapper's neighbours, who apparently was married to a very hot red-head. Sabretooth checked the map thoroughly but quickly; he threw the wallets into the gloves compartment again, and reached for the car keys which were standing ready to start the car.
He then considered the two women. He'd have to get rid of their bodies, and burning was the most efficient method… but he didn't have any good flammable fuel right there and then. He turned to the blonde, still rocking herself, and told her to get in the car. He spoke in German, but she acted as if he wasn't even there. He shook his head and looked at the brunette. She was still kneeling on the mud while staring calmly at him, her limbs relaxed but her posture straight and self-assured. What a pity that nice little hunt trip had ended so abruptly. He would have enjoyed breaking the brunette's spirit himself.
There was something strange in her confident posture, though. As if she knew something he didn't, yet she couldn't have looked more compliant and conciliatory.
"Hey, girlie! Get yer lady friend in the car."
Her eyes left him and glanced at the woman. There seemed to be some degree of hesitation, but then she got up, in one fluid movement. Sabretooth smiled, satisfied. So she did understand English after all. He watched her walk to the jeep, her gaze less fierce but equally determined; he saw her squat next to the other woman, holding her head up with confident ease, and decided she might be more useful alive, for the time being. She tried to shake the blondie into some reaction in vain, just like Sabretooth had expected. Now that he knew the girl spoke English, he reached a hand to the back of the German woman's neck and broke it. Then he threw the three bodies onto the rear, one after the other, adjusted the blankets over them and threw the men's backpacks and tents as the final concealment.
The brunette had got up and was looking at him. Her gaze and body didn't even reveal suspicion or caution, much less fear. Perhaps she too was in shock. Or had iron guts for a flimsy teenager.
"Get in the car."
She obediently climbed to the seat next to the driver's, not without trying to shake off some of the mud off the pyjama's trousers first. Having sat herself, she automatically reached for the seat belt. Sabretooth chuckled as he made himself comfortable in the driver's seat, and also reached for his seat belt. Safety above all! And he chuckled again, starting the engine.
Sabretooth drove the jeep through the rugged, muddy terrain with ease. It was an excellent car for this kind of wood-joy-ride. Maybe he'd keep it. He continued driving eastwards for a couple more hours and then he stopped below some towering firs. He got out and stretched his legs before checking that the bodies were still hidden. Then he looked for some food and found the two men's provisions: beans, bacon and smoked meat, and an ice bag with beers in it. The brunette remained as quiet as she had ever since he had found them.
"Ya're hungry?"
She seemed to startle and looked at him as he returned to his seat with the provisions in his hands.
"I know ya speak English. Ya wanna eat somethin'?
She frowned, but remained silent. Sabretooth shrugged.
"Have it yer way."
He sat near the jeep and started eating.
"You go to kill me, right?"
She spoke with a very slight accent which he couldn't place right away, and pronounced the sentence very carefully. He casually looked at her, and continued munching. She held her head up in the same confident fashion of before, sitting straight and prim despite the muddied PJs, yet her eyes betrayed no sign of superiority or challenge. On the contrary: her gaze was as forthright as few others he'd seen in a similar situation.
"If you go to kill me… why offer me food?"
He'd expect that posture and gaze on an independent mature woman, used to fence for herself, not on a teenager.
"Why not?"
"... Is not necessary." That didn't seem to be the idea she was after as she quickly rephrased it. "Is like… put food in de… uh… paper basket?"
She spoke slowly, making every sound very distinct from one another. Sabretooth grinned.
"From that point o' view, why do people eat at all? They're all gonna die sooner or later."
She frowned and insisted.
"You don't go to kill me?"
"I ain't said that." He took another bite. "Just asked if ya're hungry."
She looked at him with a puzzled look before breathing out a sigh.
"No, I'm not ungry," she conceded with a relaxed shrug and leaned on the seat, her eyes going slightly vacant as she looked ahead. "But tank you to de offer."
"What's yer name?"
She tried to tone down a sigh as her eyes became even more vacant. When her voice came out, it had the monotonous rhythm of something that had been told many times before.
"My name is Maria Sofia Carvalho Carias. I am from Portugal and I have 16 years."
"Say that again?"
She sighed and repeated the same exact sentence in an even more abandoned way. Sabretooth looked at her very carefully. He didn't know Portuguese, but he had listened to many foreign names in many languages he didn't understand, and there was something odd about her name. It sounded too… he wasn't exactly sure, but there was a tinge of phoney to it. It was too… The thoughts ran inside his head, looking for the right word that might proof his suspicions right. Too… too rhythmic! Yes, that was it. Too rhythmic. It sounded like a child's rhyme, thought out as to be easy to remember. That wasn't her true name!
He growled. But if she was lying, why hadn't he noticed any change in her scent? Could it be that Portuguese names can sound that rhythmic? Or maybe she had repeated the lie so often, it had become a second nature to her. Then… was she lying about her nationality and age, too? And why would she lie in the first place? Well, that one was easy, she had lied in some weird attempt to protect herself and then she had kept to it even though there was no protection in it. As for her age… She was petite enough to be 16, despite her un-teenage behaviour.
She remained indifferent under his scrutiny, which she hardly seemed to notice. Sabretooth shook his head; there was no danger in these lies. What was the difference from calling her Maria or anything else? And as for age and nationality, that was even less important. She'd be dead soon enough, and that was the only real thing that couldn't be lied about. But first things first.
He finished eating and got the things back in the rear of the jeep. He opened the men's backpacks and ravaged them until he found what he wanted.
"Here, put this on."
A pile of clothes fell over her before she had time to react to his voice. She touched the clothes with a puzzled look and turned to Sabretooth, waiting for an explanation.
"Well, ya heard me. Put 'em on." She gave the men clothes another puzzled look, and Sabretooth pointed out the obvious. "Ya can't go about in those muddy pyjamas, now, can ya?"
She got up and carefully measured the large jeans and shirt. The back of her pyjama top was torn almost in two, showing the dried mud that covered her back. And the pyjamas. Sabretooth went back to the rear of the car and came to her side holding a gallon of water and a comb. She was just buttoning the shirt, hiding the pyjamas she hadn't undressed.
"Here. Comb yer hair. I don't wanna go scarin' no folks when we get t' the road."
She did as was told, and then washed her hands and face, wiping out all the dried mud. Having cleaned herself, she gave a second glance at the obviously large male clothes she was wearing.
"Trust me; it looks better than yer muddy pyjamas, kid. Now get back in the car."
Sabretooth went back to the rear to set the water gallon in place, while she sat herself and tried to adjust the clothes a bit. She had left the shirt over the jeans, probably hoping it would look as if she just liked baggy clothes. Extremely baggy clothes. She squirmed slightly on her seat, before reaching for the seatbelt and turn back to check on Sabretooth.
He was buttoning a flannel shirt, having already put on some jeans, fully covering his work clothes.
"Whatchja lookin' at? Don't like the new look?"
He let himself fall onto the driver's seat and started the engine. He drove for a while in silence, the car shaking both occupants as it overcame the terrain's difficulties. Sabretooth would every now and then steal a glance at the kid next to him. She seemed even smaller and younger in that outfit. She might even have looked helpless, if it hadn't been for the unruffled calm of her body language. He frowned, remembering the hallowing guy; that one had been cut from crotch to Adam's apple… And she'd been the one who'd done it.
"So. Mary, ain't it?"
She looked at him, seemingly not understanding what he had said.
"Yer name… it's Mary, right?"
"No. My name is Maria." She pronounced it slowly, almost reminding him of a Spanish accent, but not quite.
"Right. So, Mary. How did ya manage t'gut that guy back there?"
There was a bit of silence before she answered, with a stubborn though tired voice.
"My name is not Mary; is Maria." She continued without noticing the man's low growl. "And I don't understand, sorry. Man gay back?"
Creed rolled his eyes. Great, the girl was no better than that other brainless boy.
"How… did you kill… the man… back there. Now, ya understand?"
"I…" She looked at her hands and clenched her jaws, hardening her voice. "I dee… defend me."
"An' how did ya do that? That's what I wanna know."
Her jaws clenched harder and her eyelashes fluttered up and down, contradicting the coldly detached gaze and giving Sabretooth a sudden bad feeling. For her, since he was not going to put up with it if she decided to turn on the water works. But a probing glance didn't register any moist glazing over her eyes.
"He attack me. Dey attack me. We." She shook her head. "I'm sorry by my English... I try to be clear." And she took a deep breath.
"One man attack de Germany lady. And one man attack me."
Usually people's heart rate and breathing speed up under stress, and sometimes even when they're in shock; but the girl's breathing was so calm, she could be sleeping. Perhaps she was in denial so the whole ordeal became something as unreal as TV.
"I don't know sings very well. Everysing was very confuse. ... De man make me fall. ... He want to take my clodes and ... he want make me turn..." The pauses were irritating, but if they were the price to pay for intelligible sentences, he'd put up with them willingly. "But I don't want and ... I watch de stones in de... de street. ... I put one stone in my hand and he turn me. Because I have got de stone in my hand. ... And after I beat he wid de stone. ... Wid many strong in de head. ... And it function. ... He fall and he... call names?"
She looked up at him, trying to see if she was making herself clear. Whatever she saw, it satisfied her and she took another deep breath, now looking down at her hands.
"I watch de knife he have…" And she took her hand to her waist. "In trousers. I try get de knife. ... First... I'm sorry, is confuse; I simplificate, ok? ... I arrived to de knife and I... ... I put de knife in de man. ... Very inside. And after I push to up and... ..."
The girl once more looked at him, her eyes as cold as death. "And de end."
Then, quite unexplainable, she looked away. "I kill de man to defend me." And her heart chose that moment to beat faster and denounce the lie, as she took a deep, calming breath.
"You go to kill me off de same way dat you kill de Germany lady?"
He frowned at the unexpected question, but she looked at him, intently.
"I like. If is possible. If is possible dat you kill me in dat way…" Her voice died quietly, but her eyes didn't leave him.
No, they were not cold as death, he corrected his previous observation; they were as cold as dead.
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Excerpt from chapter 6:
He looked at her. She was still leaning on the wall, to where he had pushed her; she had a slight frown, as if he had just done something quite unexpected. Yeah, well, he told himself, he wasn't exactly known as unpredictable for no reason, was he?