This chapter is a bit lighter than the last few. I planned this picnic ages ago, but this is where it ended up fitting in!
Clarice looks around her as she gets out of Lorna's car. They're in what looks like a dirt parking space at the beginning of a hiking trail, but there are only a couple of other cars around. Zingo jumps out of the back seat behind her, excitedly waggling her tail.
"Few people come here," Lorna answers her questioning gaze, "but there's a spot we like. Are you ready to walk a bit? It's maybe a fifteen minutes walk, but there's a lake with a little beach, it's really nice."
It's Sunday, and this is the day Lorna and Marcos chose for their picnic. The weather is nice, but not yet the crushing weight of Georgian summer. Clarice is flattered to have been invited on what seems to be a long-standing tradition between the three friends.
"I'm fine to walk," Clarice starts, "but what about John?"
"Don't worry about me," John says from behind her.
Clarice joins him at the back of the car to see that he's getting his wheelchair out of the trunk.
"Oh," she says, surprised. "I didn't think−"
"Most trails aren't flat enough," John says, "but this one is. Look." He points at the signs indicating the beginning of the trail. Clarice spots a little blue disability logo.
She watches John unfold his chair and sit down with curiosity. It's the first time she's seen him actually use it, and she can't help noticing the details. The chair itself is all black, and it's sleeker and lighter than any Clarice has ever seen from up close−which was mostly on TV. She makes a note to ask John about that, later, when they're in a better setting for an actual conversation.
"Can I give you the food?" Lorna asks, taking a backpack out of the car.
"Put it on," John nods, turning so he has his back to her. She secures the backpack to the back of the chair while Clarice is still trying to get used to the sight of John in it. He's obviously fully comfortable, even doing a wheelie as he waits for Lorna to close and lock the car, but she doesn't know how to feel about that.
"You okay?" John asks her, looking up to meet her eyes.
Clarice shakes herself. There's some apprehension in John's expression, and she knows that he's waiting for her reaction in some way. He may have mostly accepted his disability and be comfortable using his chair, he's still uncertain about the way other people look at him. About the way Clarice looks at him. She hates that she is somehow bothered, confirming his fears. But now is not a good time to address it.
She nods. "Sure. So where's this spot that you like?"
"Down the trail a little," John says. "Come on. Zingo!"
The dog runs back to them and John secures her leash, handing it to Lorna.
Walking beside John in his chair takes a little adjusting, so Clarice is glad she has Lorna and Marcos to model from. Neither of them seem bothered by John being at a different height, and they naturally adapt to his speed. Clarice catches each of them giving her glances a few times, but otherwise they simply fall into comfortable bantering as they walk.
They don't walk for very long before the trail meets the edge of a lake. They follow it around part of the lake, Marcos and Lorna still bantering while John and Clarice are mostly quiet, until a small beach opens before them, at the turn of the trail.
Clarice has to admit the spot is worth walking a little. The lake opens before them, its water quiet and deeply blue, but the area is protected on all other sides by trees, and it really looks like they're alone in the world, away from civilization.
"You like it?" John asks in a low voice.
Clarice turns to him. "A lot," she smiles.
"We can go swimming later if you want to."
They settle on the side of the beach, against a spatter of rocks, and let Zingo run free. Lorna seems to have thought of everything, including towels for them to sit on. She starts taking out plastic containers full of food and handing paper plates around.
"You went all in, didn't you?" Clarice asks.
"We all have our favorite foods, but I didn't know what you'd like, so I made some of everything," Lorna answers.
"You didn't have to. I can eat anything."
"Except for hot pepper," John chips in with a wink at Clarice.
"Oh, you tried to get her to eat your food?"
"It was an accident," Clarice defends John.
"The chili you left for me last week," John explains. "We shared it."
Lorna's eyes widen in surprise. "You actually ate it?"
"If there's enough pepper for John, it's barely even food anymore," Marcos jokes.
"It was a bit...hot," Clarice admits.
John shakes his head. "She ate her whole plate," he says.
"Well, congratulations, John," Lorna says in a mock-serious tone. "I think you've found the right one. If she likes you enough to eat your food, she's a keeper."
"Hey, I'm right here!" Clarice protests, but she laughs along with them. Lorna may well be right. She made herself eat that chili because she wanted a glimpse of John's world, and she wouldn't have done this for anyone but him.
John beams at her, and she's swept by the casual happiness in his eyes, the sweetness of his contentment. Love you, she mouths, then she shifts closer to him until their thighs touch. John balances his plate on his other knee and puts an arm around her, the other still holding his fork.
"You two are disgustingly sweet," Lorna says.
"You're one to talk," John shoots back. "I get to hear your heartbeats when you're together. Three of them, now."
Three? The baby, Clarice understands. Lorna is just starting to show now at nearly four months pregnant. Clarice has the sudden thought that John must be hearing her heartbeat too, something that she hadn't realized. Did he hear it when she was crushing on him like a schoolgirl? Does he hear it when her anxiety rears its ugly head?
"What's wrong?" John murmurs in her ear.
He does, then. Clarice takes a deep breath. "Nothing," she answers. "Just realized something."
John smiles at her, gently rubbing circles into her arm, and she melts again.
"Did you see the latest review we got in the AJC?" Marcos asks after they've all been silent for a while. Clarice is still tasting Lorna's dishes, picking into each container except for the one reserved for John.
"Yeah," John says. "Is it the work of Sonya's friend? The one she's doing her big project for?"
"Yes, she's a journalist," Lorna answers. "She came over three months ago to interview us. It was before you got there," she adds for Clarice.
"What does the review say?" Clarice asks.
"It's pretty good, she liked the atmosphere and the coffee. She's human, but a long time ally, so she just said it can be a bit disconcerting to see so many mutants around."
"That's not very−"
"I know, but it's the best we've had so far," Lorna shrugs. "We have plenty of good customer reviews, but professionals are all human and usually suspicious that we're open about being mutants."
"You've had bad reviews?"
"Yes. Interestingly though, they tend to attract new mutant customers. I guess they know how to read between the lines. And we've got a pretty good online presence."
"Lorna manages our social media accounts," Marcos explains.
"Moderating hate speech is a pain, but after a while the trolls are almost funny. There's very little they can do to us."
"Not like the center," John mutters.
"What do you mean?" Clarice turns to him.
"The vandalism and death threats are why it almost shut down last year. We saved it, barely, but it runs on subventions. If the public eye is too negative, we could easily lose those."
"Is it that bad?"
John shrugs. "It could be worse. There are plenty of cities that won't give grants to openly mutant organizations. We have enough to keep it open for now."
"Anyway, it's Sunday and we shouldn't be talking about work," Marcos says. "Though I did get a few more hilarious phone calls this week."
"The BDSM club? I got one of those too," Lorna laughs.
"And someone who was asking about our 'backroom'."
John barks out a laugh, while Clarice frowns uncomprehendingly. "What?"
"Every few days we get phone calls from people thinking the café is some kind of nightclub," Lorna explains. "Apparently a BDSM one, too. I guess someone talked about it on a specialized forum or something."
"It's the name," Clarice says. "I'll admit I was a bit skeptical when Shatter told me to go there to find a job."
"What did you imagine, heavy metal live music and Goth decorations?"
"I don't know," Clarice shrugs. "Something like that. So why did you name it the Underground, anyway?"
Marcos and Lorna glance at each other. "Usually we just say it's an inside joke," Lorna says. "But you're part of the family now. You deserve the whole story."
Clarice frowns. "Is it something bad? I don't want to−"
"No, not really, it's just a long story. It goes back to how we met each other."
"Okay. We have time."
Lorna nods. "Let's see. Did you hear about the mutant kid who freaked out during a police raid at his orphanage a few years ago and destroyed the whole neighborhood?"
"Yes, I remember. They suspected some kind of abuse but nothing was done in the end, right?"
"That's the one. The child died in his own outburst, along with five other people. And the police refused to disclose why they were even there in the first place."
"You were involved?"
"No, but back then I was studying at Georgia Tech, and just starting to get involved with the mutant activist group there. We staged a protest against bad treatment of mutant children, and we ran into a group of Purifiers. A few people got hurt on each side, but we'd used mutant powers, so the court ruled that it was all our fault."
"You got convicted?"
"Yes. I was already diagnosed bipolar, so all I got was mandatory treatment and some community service, and I got kicked out of university. But the people I was with got jail time."
"Damn," Clarice mutters. More than one of her old friends, made in the foster system or on the streets, are now residents of one of the state's overflowing jails. She's narrowly avoided getting arrested several times herself, and she's knows well that it doesn't take a lot for mutants to land there. But hearing stories like this still tears at her heart.
"Anyhow, that's how I got involved with the...less legal side of activism. When I got out of the hospital, I had no job and no money, so I reached out to our old headmaster, and he got me in touch with a few activists in the city who weren't in the same group I'd been part of. One of them was John."
"Didn't you know each other from school?" Clarice asks.
"We were a few years apart, so we never really talked," John answers. "We really became friends when Lorna reached out. I was stateside, so I helped her find an apartment and a job. That was, what, six years ago?"
"What were you doing in Atlanta in the first place?"
"Pulse was from here," John says.
Clarice nods her understanding. It must be strange for him, maybe even painful, to still live here now that Pulse is gone, she reflects. But then Lorna and Marcos live here too, and they seem to be here to stay.
"You?" she asks Lorna. She knows her aunt lives somewhere north, and she went to school with John, so she's probably not from here.
"Georgia Tech was a dream of mine," Lorna shrugs. "The best for female engineers."
The school she got kicked out of. Right. Clarice doesn't even dare ask Marcos, because his story is unlikely to be any more joyous.
"That still doesn't tell me why the Underground," she says instead.
"Right," Marcos says. "Well, remember I told you I used to work for my ex's father?"
Clarice nods, curious as to where this is going.
"He was also the one who originally brought me into the country. I have actual papers now, but...he smuggled me in, at the time. He was the head of one of the largest Colombian cartels."
"What? You were a drug dealer?"
Marcos laughs. "I don't look like it, do I? I never used myself, but Carmen's father kept me around for my powers, to intimidate his enemies. So yeah, I did plenty of things I'm not proud of. I would help smuggle drugs into the country. And a few times, we smuggled mutants who were being chased out of the country. That's how I met those two, they would set us up with people who needed to escape."
"Oh, smuggling now? I would have never suspected that about all of you," Clarice quips. She really is surprised. The three people she's met and gotten to know in the last few months have plenty of issues, but they have more of less stable lives−an apartment, a café to run, a baby on the way… They don't look like people who used to be part of illegal activities.
But then, neither does she, probably.
"I guess we have hidden depths," John smiles.
"During the time when we were throwing out ideas for the café," Lorna continues, "one of my friends who was convicted for the protest died in jail. He got killed by another inmate because he was a mutant."
"I'm sorry," Clarice bites her lip.
Lorna nod sadly, then shakes herself. "Anyway, one night the three of us were talking about it and we started to joke that the café could be a front for a smuggling operation. You know, helping mutants who'd broken the law or were in trouble. Kind of like the Railroad Underground."
"That's how the café got its name," John says. "I was shipped out the next week, so I didn't get to see the start of it, but I'm kinda glad it didn't actually become a mutant smuggling front."
Clarice snorts. "I don't see either of you guys as Han Solo," she says.
"Most smugglers are guys in suits," Marcos shrugs. "I'm sure we could pull it off just fine."
"Of course, it wouldn't be a big deal for you," Lorna tells him. "You already have the network and everything."
"Oh, I'd share with you," Marcos winks, kissing Lorna's cheek.
"How generous of you. Do I get a code name? John has one."
"Didn't you have a nickname at school?" John asks. "Polaris?"
"You remember that?"
"I remember you tried to pick up fight with anyone who didn't call you that."
"Hey!" Lorna protests, leaning over to kick John's shoulder. She grimaces and massages her hand. "Damn, you're hard."
"So, Polaris?" Marcos asks. "I didn't know about that."
"It was just a teenage thing," Lorna shrugs. "A phase."
"I like it," Marcos smiles. "It suits you."
"That leaves you two," John says, nodding to Marcos and Clarice.
"You could be...Eclipse," Lorna says to Marcos.
"You sure are blinding enough," John quips.
"Will you ever let that go?"
Clarice looks between the two men. There's a story there that she doesn't know yet.
"I could barely see for two days!" John says.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to lose control!"
"I know," John smirks. "I'm just messing with you."
"What are you talking about?" Clarice asks curiously.
"Marcos lit up on me once," John says. "It was like looking straight into the sun for an hour. Gave me the mother of all headaches, too."
"It was a really bad day and I lost control," Marcos adds. "But that was years ago!"
"I still think Eclipse is a good name," Lorna says.
"Okay," Marcos grumbles. "Eclipse and Polaris… It has a nice ring to it."
"What name do you want?" John asks Clarice.
She thinks about it for a moment, while Lorna and Marcos throw in more and more ridiculous names.
"Blink," she says, remembering her promise to train her ability. "I want to be as quick as a blink. Here one second, elsewhere the next."
"Blink," John repeats. "It's nice."
Clarice smiles up at him. "Thank you, Thunderbird."
Did you enjoy finding out some of Lorna and Marcos's background? Adapting it from the little we got to see on the show was fun.
Tell me if you liked this chapter!
Next up: Clarice's training begins.