Disclaimer: I do not own and am making no money from the X-Men. Vixen belongs to her creator Corrinth. Blaze is mine. That is all.
Scene Seven
WELCOME TO BARROW the sign said in big unfriendly letters, POPULATION 156. Tabitha read the sign out loud for everyone's benefit, adding at the end, "and all of them related…"
"Not exactly a thriving metropolis," Jean said.
"I've seen livelier graveyards," agreed Blaze. That description pretty much nailed the unfortunate town of Barrow. They were stood at the far end of the town's Main Street, which as a description allotted far too much glamour and significance to the dusty, uneven roadway and the miniscule selection of a convenience store, a hardware store, a lady's clothes store, a garage, a liquor store, a church and a bar. Every building seemed to be closed and shuttered against the enclosing night. Somewhere a blocked drain added flavoursome pungency to the air. Graffiti daubed the sides of buildings and any windows that were not shuttered were broken. As a town Barrow was unloved and deserted.
"What a dive," Rogue observed. "Ya'll really wanna spend the night here?"
"We don't have a choice Rogue," Kitty replied. Shadowcat hitched up her bag onto her shoulder. "It's like, totally too late to find anywhere else."
"Payphone," Blaze observed, nodding towards a solitary phone booth at the far end of the street. "We could call the mansion and get someone to bring the X-Jet."
"You kidding?" Tabby interrupted, "we'd never live it down if we went back now."
"We'll bare it in mind," Jean was more democratic, "in case we can't find anywhere that's got rooms available."
Silently everyone was hoping that there wouldn't be anywhere to stay, so they could call the X-Men and go home without losing face in front of the other girls. They were disappointed. On a street two blocks away from Main Street was a tumbled down, ramshackle detached house that sported a board outside labelled BED & BREAKFAST ACCOMODATION – VACANCY. The house was in darkness, except for a faint yellow glow behind the curtains of one downstairs window. It did not look luxurious, but beggars could not be choosers.
Jean tried to be optimistic as she announced, "Looks like this is the place."
"Yeah," Kitty acknowledged, "but the place for what?"
"Oh I know," Tabby grinned sardonically. "It's the place where we all get murdered in our sleep by some axe-welding maniac."
"Or where we discover a cellar full of the shallow graves of precious customers," added Blaze.
"Or where the little old woman who runs the place poisons us, chops us up and feeds us to her cats," mused Kitty.
"Wouldn't that poison the cats?" asked Rogue.
"Mutant cats," Tabby decided, "poison resistant."
"Stop it you guys," Jean protested with a shudder. "It'll be fine, just watch."
With that she marched up to the front door and rapped the wood smartly with her knuckles. The others followed reluctantly, up three wooden steps from the garden path onto a creaky veranda. At Jean's knock a curtain twitched in the room with the light, closely followed by the sound of footsteps in the hallway. There was a rattle of an old key in the lock, and the shuffle of a bolt being drawn back. Then the door opened.
Something small and agile shot out from the bottom of the door. It ran between the legs of the X-Girls and disappeared, a black smudge against a blackening night. All the girls jumped, and Kitty yelped.
"Just a cat," Jean told them breathlessly.
"That's what I'm worried about," muttered Kitty.
"Hello?" asked a gravely female voice. "Who is it?" The door still wasn't quite open all the way, and the woman behind it seemed to be clutching it like a shield.
"My name's Jean and these are my…" she hesitated, "friends. Our car has broken down and we're desperate for somewhere to spend the night."
"Oh," the woman considered this. "Oh you poor dears, come on in off the porch." She flung the door open wide to reveal a cozy, pink-and-lace hallway. "Come on in now, can't have you out on the streets after dark, not around here, no sir-ey."
"Thank you," said Jean politely, leading the way inside. Meekly the other followed, even remembering to wipe their feet on the mat. At the back of the line, Blaze and Tabby exchanged a ludicrous glance at the fluffy décor and their fluffier hostess, but quickly dropped their eyes when they saw another couple of cats glaring at them accusingly from the bottom of the stairs.
Their hostess' name was Marjorie and she was the very definition of motherly. She was large but she carried her weight regally. She wore a faded pink housecoat over her Sunday best, and her thick black hair was already set in curlers for the night. She wore costume earrings and every chubby black finger sported at least one ring. Her stocking-ed feet were in pink fluffy slippers and she smelt profoundly of cats and hyacinths.
Marjorie shooed away several more cats and sat the girls down in a plush sitting room full of comfortable furniture and house plants. She served them tea from a china tea set decorated with roses, and all the time she talked in her warm gravely voice. She babbled about how they should make themselves at home, and how nice it would be to have a houseful again. They learned she was a widow, and had started renting out rooms after her children had grown up and flown the nest.
The X-Girls tried to listen to what their hostess was saying, but the room was very warm, the chairs very comfy and they were tired from their hike. Kitty nodded off, her tea sloshing from its cup into the saucer. Whilst Marjorie's back was turned, Jean used her powers to guide the cup and saucer onto an occasional table before Kitty dropped it entirely. Someone's stomach growled noisily, causing Rogue and Jean to glare at Blaze.
"It was the cat!" the redhead protested, pointing to the big tabby that was curled up on the carpet. No one believed her.
"Oh you poor, poor dears," Marjorie bustled. "You should have said you were hungry. You must be famished! I've some special spicy chowder on the stove, all my own recipe. You stay right there an' I'll bring you all a bowl each."
"What's chowder?" Blaze asked, clutching her growling stomach in an effort to regain control of her digestive system.
"How can you not know what chowder is?" asked Jean.
"I dunno," replied the British girl. "How can you not know what Lancashire hotpot is?" Her stomach growled again and Blaze groaned with it. "It's not my fault my powers run off what I eat, I have to burn something."
"Shush!" hissed Rogue, "Blaze be…"
Suddenly there was a caterwauling outside the house, followed by a succession of rattles and bangs like a percussion solo. The noise was so loud it woke Kitty with a start. Rogue got up and went to the window. She was just about to peel back the drapes when Marjorie came back from the kitchen carrying a tray full of bowls of steaming hot chowder. When she saw what Rogue was about to do, the hostess yelped. Not only did her reaction make Rogue freeze, it sent the chowder flying into the air. Jean waved a hand to stop the hostess getting scalded, but Marjorie didn't notice.
"Don't you go lookin' out there now its dark missy! Don't you do that to yourselves!"
"We heard a noise…" Rogue started to explain.
"No, no, no," Marjorie protested. "I don't care if you heard the President himself outside callin' for you, you're too young an' sweet t'be seeing the things I've seen in Barrow after dark. Oh we're safe enough inside never you worry, but outside after dark… It's a strange and frightening world out there. I want your promise, all of you, that whatever you hear out there you won't go peeking outside!"