Chapter 4.

I had to suppress my first instinct, which was to pop my claws an' shred the fuck outta this guy, 'cause it was obvious that he was gonna be important to my quest somehow. Also, they tend to scare the shit outta people an' if that happened, he'd probably shoot me outta pure reflex. An' as we all know, shootin' me just pisses me off. So, I did what a normal guy would do; I put my hands up an' took a small step away from him.

"Whoa, hold on bub. No need for that," I said, tryin' to keep him calm.

"Fuck that. I saw you. You recognized my mother in that picture, didn't you?" He leveled the gun in the middle of my face an' took on a classic shooter's stance. "Now answer the fucking question."

I had two options here. I could lie my ass off an' hope he'd believe me (doubtful), or I could tell him the truth an' hope he didn't shoot me for bein' a dirty mutie (probable). There was no way he could know that shootin' me wouldn't hurt an' he especially couldn't know that the bullet would probably ricochet right off my face an' hit him instead. Still, I knew I could disarm him an' gain the upper hand before he had a chance squeeze the trigger. I decided the truth was worth the risk.

"I told you the truth, my name is Logan," I said. "I didn't really know your mom. I met her here over fifteen years ago, at Fort Wyvern."

He shoved the gun closer to my face. "Don't fuck with me, asshole! If you had anything to do with her death, I swear to God…"

"Hey hold up!" I said, takin' another step back, yet preparin' to grab the gun if I had to. "I didn't even know she was dead! I didn't know her that well, they had me here ta do some kinda analysis on me."

He narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean, 'analysis'? Not genetic testing?"

"If they were testin' anythin', they didn't try it on me. I swear to you, it was some kinda analysis." I sighed. "I won't shit ya, kid. I don't remember a lot about it. A lot's happened ta me since then."

He was still eyein' me skeptically when the dog came over an' sat right next to me. Chris looked down, lookin' for all intents an' purposes like he was expectin' the dog to talk to him. Maybe he did, in his own way, 'cause he looked up at me, licked my hand then turned to Chris an' made that chuffing sound again. Whatever passed between 'em must have made sense to him, 'cause Chris lowered the gun an' jerked his head towards the kitchen. "Come on. Let's get a beer and you can tell me what you know." He walked away with the dog followin' at his heels.

I was still a little dubious 'bout this guy, but the dog stopped in the archway to the kitchen, looked at me an' chuffed again. For some reason, that put me at ease, which didn't make sense at the time. After all, it was just a dog, right? It's not like it really knew what was happenin' here.

Chris was already seated at the table, three vanilla candles burning in votive cups an' three bottles o' beer on the table in front of him. He handed one to me (Heineken, the kid had okay taste) along with a damp dishtowel for my face, then cracked one open an' poured half of it into the dog's bowl. I raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't say anythin' as I took a seat. Chris finally popped open the last bottle an' sat across from me. Neither one of us said anythin' for a few minutes, we just sat there drinkin' our beers an' sizin' each other up while I cleaned up as much blood as I could with the towel. Finally, I broke the silence. "So, what's the deal with all the candles? Forget to pay the bill?"

He smiled. "No, nothing like that. It's because of my condition. I have XP."

I stared at him, my mouth hangin' open like an idiot. For those o' you who don't know, xeroderma pigmentosum - XP - is a rare genetic disease that affects a very small percentage of the population. These people are not albinos, they do have pigment in their skin. They simply lack the ability to repair the damage that UV rays from all types of light do to your skin every minute of every day. You an' (especially) I don't realize this is goin' on all the time, but it does. About the only light that someone with XP can safely be around is firelight: candles, lanterns, things of that nature. Otherwise, the damage done to those afflicted is cumulative an' even a few minutes of exposure a day over the course of a few years can cause malignant skin cancers, blindness an' other neurological effects. Most people with XP don't live to see twenty. Now the lack of sun smell on him made perfect sense. "Shit man, I'm sorry."

"For what? I'm not sorry. I've already beaten the hell out of the odds, so I'm happy."

"How old are ya anyway?"

"Almost twenty-nine." I raised an eyebrow an' he smiled. "Like I said, I've beaten the odds. Plan to keep doing it too."

I lifted my bottle in a salute. "Here's to it." He raised his bottle back an' we settled back into silence. I wanted to ask about his mom, but there ain't really a good way to bring up the dead an' not seem like a total asshole. Especially when I hadn't really known her that well in the first place.

He took the ball outta my court. "Why are you here?" He asked. "I can tell you, precious little that's good came out of Fort Wyvern and the fact that you were there doesn't leave me feeling very safe at all."

I sighed an' ran a hand through my hair. "If I told ya I had a dream an' felt like I had to find that place, would ya believe me?" I asked.

He stared at me for a long time. Just before the silence became uncomfortable, he replied. "Yeah, I would. I might not have a few months ago but now? Yeah, I'd believe just about anything." He took another drink. "Were you stationed there?"

I shook my head. "No, not really. I was there for a little while, I'm not sure how long, on loan from the Canadian military."

"You're Canadian?" I nodded. "Why did they want you there? And what did you mean by they analyzed you?"

I had to decide how much to tell him. There were a number of reasons why I coulda been there, but somethin' told me that this guy would know fact from fiction almost as well as I would. "Well, the story that got me there was a joint American-Canadian anti-terrorist task force. Your mother was kind enough to tell me the truth." I took another long drink. "She wanted to analyze me…my DNA. I'm a mutant."

There, the truth was out an' it hung between us like a physical presence. His face didn't betray any emotions, but his scent changed just a little. Mostly nervousness, but nothin' like the fear an' outright hostility that most people give off when they hear the word "mutant". He sat back in his chair an' sighed, thumbin' the safety on his gun an' settin' it down next to his beer. "Damn. Of all the things I thought you were going to say, that was pretty far down the list." He leaned forward again an' folded his hands, a gesture so like his mother it sent a chill down my spine. "So, what's your mutation? Why would she have been so interested in you?"

It was then that it became crystal clear to me. Sure, the military applications of my healin' factor would be incredible. But she'd also said that she had personal reasons. Now, I knew what they were. "Well, I dunno how you're gonna take this, 'cause I can't say for certain. She never came out an' told me. But if I had ta guess, I'd say it was 'cause o' you."

"Me? I mean, I've figured out that she was trying to find a way to cure my XP, but if she ever got close I never found out."

"Yeah well, that's the thing. See, my main mutation is healin'."

"What, like laying on hands or something?"

I chuckled. "No, nothin' like that. I have a healin' factor. I can heal from pretty much anythin'. I never get sick, medications an' anesthetics don't work on me. Hell, I can't even get drunk." I swirled the dregs of my beer in the bottle before finishin' it off. "You were right earlier. I was bleedin', I broke my nose an' I'm pretty sure I took most o' the skin off my forehead. You coulda shot me right in the face with that Glock o' yours an' it woulda just pissed me off."

His eyes were so wide they looked like plates. "You're shitting me."

"Nope. Wanna try it?" I could see he wasn't tempted, but he was still skeptical, so I decided to show him anyway. I picked up one o' the votive cups an' stuck a finger right in the flame. It hurt like a bitch, but I held it there til the skin on my fingertip was black an' blisterin' before pullin' it out, then held it right in front of his face. I didn't think he could look more shocked than he already was, but he managed it when the skin healed over in a matter of seconds an' there wasn't even a hint that it had ever been burnt.

He reached out an' touched my finger, like he didn't believe what he'd seen, then looked up at me. "Holy shit, man. That was fucking amazing!"

I snorted. "Yeah well, it has a side affect that I ain't so happy about. It also heals the damage done by time. I'm a lot older'n I look." I stood up an' went to the fridge, helpin' myself to another beer an' sat back down. "In fact, I'm not really sure how old I am."

"Not sure…oh wait. You mentioned that you don't remember much about it. Why?"

"Well, that came later an' I swear to you, your mom had nothin' to do with that part. But some time after I went back to Canada, an American colonel named William Stryker decided that experimentin' on me would be great fun. So, he stuck me in a tank full o' chemicals, cut me open from head ta toe an' bonded my entire skeleton with adamantium." I took a drink from my beer. "An' he gave me these." I slowly slid out the claws on my left hand. Chris' eyes nearly fell outta his head an' I popped them back in. "I don't know, I guess somethin' in my mind just snapped. I barely remember gettin' out of that tank, killin' a bunch o' people an' takin' off naked into the snow. My next clear memory ain't til a lot later. I'd been breakin' into cabins to steal food an' clothes an' I remember wakin' up in one. It coulda been days, weeks, I'm not sure. That was fifteen years ago an' I didn't really remember anythin' before that til recently, when I started dreamin' 'bout Fort Wyvern."

Chris finished his beer an' went to the fridge for another. When he sat back down, he had another for me even though I wasn't even half finished. "Jesus Christ. Yeah, I know my mother. She never would have been a part of something like that. She'd have smuggled you out somehow." He cracked his beer open an' took a long drink. "What's adamantium anyway?"

"An indestructible metal. I've been put through walls, been hit with tree trunks, you name it, it's happened. And these claws o' mine can cut through anythin', 'cept adamantium. I think."

"Jesus. And I thought they did bad shit here." He shook his head. "So, you said that healing thing was your main mutation. There's more?"

"Yeah. I got heightened senses too. I could track ya through the entire town by scent alone if I had to." I took a long drink of my beer.

His eyes narrowed again. "What, like animal senses?"

Now I glared at him. "Look here, kid. I ain't no fuckin' animal, got it?"

"It's just…peculiar. Did you have them before Fort Wyvern?"

"What the hell does it matter? As far as I know, yes. I've been dreamin' 'bout them doin' a bunch o' tests for my senses."

He sighed an' relaxed, takin' another drink. "It's just…bad shit happened out there, okay?"

"Does this have anythin' to do with that monkey I almost hit?"

"Do you know anything about them?"

I shrugged. "A friend o' mine told me somethin' 'bout a troop o' monkeys escaped from some lab somewhere an' brought somethin' out with 'em. He didn't know what."

"Who's this friend?"

"Another mutant, in New York. He has contacts everywhere. He's the one that got the lead that brought me here."

Chris nodded an' I could tell he was debatin' what he should tell me about all this. "My mother was a theoretical geneticist." He began. "From what I've been able to learn, she invented some kind of retrovirus that was supposed to only introduce genetic material into other DNA to make things smarter, stronger or faster." He laughed bitterly. "It worked all right. It made those monkeys so smart they got away. What no one expected was that the virus would mutate into something that just might end the world."

"What, like a plague or somethin'?"

"Or something." He agreed. "It became contagious, got into people, a lot of people. Mostly those that were on base, but into the town too. When they closed the base, those personnel were sent all over the country and they took it with them. There's no chance to contain it and no way to figure out how far it's spreading or how fast. But the people who are infected are…becoming."

"Becomin' what?" I had a very bad feelin' 'bout this.

"I don't know," He said with a shrug. "But sometimes it's just mental changes, they get really aggressive, violent. But for all of them, their eyes change." He looked in my eyes as though searchin' for somethin'. "They get that eyeshine like cats and nocturnal animals have. You don't have it and if your healing thing works half as good as I think it does, you'll be one of the only people who'll make it out of this thing alive and normal." I raised an eyebrow at that. "I know, it's crazy isn't it? Over ninety-nine percent of the population is afraid of the 'mutie freaks' and here you are, a mutant and quite possibly the only one that'll make it through."

"I just never thought anyone would consider me 'normal', even if I wasn't a mutant." I took a long drink o' my beer. "So what did ya mean by 'sometimes' it's only mental?"

"I've seen a few people who had physical changes as well. Like their bodies were changing, getting animal aspects."

"Shit. Suddenly, I don't feel so bad about myself."

He nodded an' we sat in silence for a bit. Orson came over to Chris an' gave him a pleadin' look, then glanced at the half beer still on the table, then back to Chris. If I didn't know any better, I'd have said he was askin' for the rest o' the bottle. Chris looked at him an' shook his head, but the dog made a pathetic whine an' looked at the beer again. Chris smiled an' shook his head again, but this time in defeat. "You're going to wind up with cirrhosis, you know that don't you?" He took the beer an' emptied the rest into the dog's bowl, who went to lappin' it up with gusto. I couldn't help but chuckle.

Chris sat back down an' took another drink of his beer. He looked like he was about say somethin' when a cell phone rang. I took mine out o' my pocket the same time he checked his, but it was for him. Naturally, I only caught his end o' the conversation (my hearin' is good, but not THAT good).

"Hey bro…yeah, got a guest….you'd never believe me if I told you…no, not over the phone…really? Sharky…why don't you come over here? No, shouldn't need it…well, maybe just in case…we'll ride it if it comes our way…" He paused for a long moment, looked up at me an' went back to his conversation. "Yeah, might have to go Dead Town…not too churly…I think we need to go…you'd have to meet him to believe it…he'll make chum out of them, I guarantee it…okay, see ya bro." He closed the phone an' looked at me. "You up for a ride?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Well, if I caught your end of the conversation correctly, it has somethin' to do with shark bait an' someplace called Dead Town. I'm guessin' I get to make the shark bait?"

"Only if we're not lucky."

"Right. And Dead Town?"

He stood up an' gathered the empty bottles. "It's what I call the old military housing at Wyvern."

I looked at him sharply. "You mean we're goin' there tonight?"

"Yeah. Have to do a little recon before we can plan an invasion, right?"

I suddenly decided I really liked this guy.

AN: Ooh, the plot thickens:) For the record, Chris Snow really does have XP in the books...it's not some clever plot device i came up with...and his mom the theoretical geneticist? Yep, she was looking to cure him...so wonder no more why i thought Logan fit into this world like a hand in a glove...:) Special thanks to all the usual suspects, but especially to Levanna, TnTornado and Bluebell for reviewing...:) Levanna and TnT should have gotten PM replies to their reviews...Bluebell: There will be more bits and pieces dropped here and there, don't worry...:)

Also, i have posted a teaser for Levanna and anyone else who's interested of the 5th story in the Logan and Angela series on my Yahoo group...the address for it is in my profile...:)