Part 2:

"Two you bait the line."

Chapter 7.

They took me as far as the warehouse complex, which looked almost exactly the way I remembered it, with one exception. The large hangar that I'd had my hearin' an' eyesight tested in was just…gone. There was a slab there, like a buildin' had stood there at some point, but whatever had been above it was long gone. Chris explained that this was where they'd found the thing called Mystery Train, deep under the ground. Maybe the kid wasn't full of shit after all.

I hopped out o' the jeep an' Chris reached into his jacket to pull out his Glock. I scowled at him. "Dahell do I need that for?" I asked.

"If I'm right and Mom did use your DNA in the virus that's caused all this, then you might not be as immune to it as you think." He replied.

"Look kid, even if that's true, I ain't worried 'bout it. I don't plan on gettin' any closer to 'em than I have to tonight."

"It's not the people I'm worried about. It's the troop."

I just gave him a blank look. I've been shot in the head, stabbed Christ only knows how many times, thrown through the windshield of my own truck an' oh yeah, cut open an' pumped full o' an indestructible metal an' he wanted me to worry about a bunch o' monkeys? "Thanks kid, but you can keep it. I'm already armed, remember?"

He nodded. "All right. We'll meet you back at the river, unless you stay out here til sunrise. Then we'll be at my house."

"Gotcha. Thanks kid." He nodded once an' Bobby swung the jeep around. I watched it til the taillights were out o' sight, then turned back to the warehouse complex. He'd told me what he could on the way to this part o' the base, which wasn't much. Once the base had closed, he'd started pokin' 'round out here, tryin' to see if he could learn anythin' 'bout his mom's work. So far, he hadn't found anythin', said that there were whole laboratories underneath these warehouses that were stripped to the bare concrete. But, he also said the former police chief (now dead, but he didn't get into details on that) had told him that the base wasn't as closed as everyone thought it was. Somewhere in these hundred thousand plus acres was a lab full o' people desperately tryin' to find a way to stop what they had started.

The wind was still blowin' gently across the asphalt, tossin' small bits o' debris ahead o' it an' carryin' the smell o' the ocean on it. I closed my eyes an' tried to remember everythin' 'bout the day they'd tested my scenting ability, see if there were any areas I hadn't gone to. I'm certain that the ten soldiers I'd had to track woulda been told there were areas off-limits to 'em, so they wouldn't have even thought 'bout tryin' to hide in those places. Even without the hangar, I had a pretty good idea o' where I'd gone an' the only area that hadn't been included was in the northeastern part o' the base. I opened my eyes an' took a quick look 'round, then set off.

It didn't take long before I went beyond the parts Chris said he'd explored. Besides all the black-budget stuff that had obviously gone on here, this place had been used for basic training as well as more advanced programs in stuff like encryption an' weapon testin'. With over thirty thousand people stationed here, it was more than likely that most of 'em had no idea what had gone on underneath their feet an' probably would never know, unless they were among those who were becoming.

Becoming. The word itself was normally harmless enough, but with this new definition it sent chills down my spine. It was obvious the process was damn slow, since it had taken almost three years 'fore anyone had noticed anythin' was wrong in the first place. Then again, people do have an amazin' ability to ignore things that don't fit into their own ideas of what's normal, unless it's somethin' they can't help but see. These were the thoughts goin' through my head as I stalked silently through the barracks area, slippin' from shadow to shadow just in case anyone was watchin'. The wind shifted to the north an' I stopped dead when I caught a strange scent.

I looked out across the overgrown lawn in front o' the barracks, scannin' the buildings around me for any sign of a follower, but nothin' jumped out at me right away. It wasn't til I was 'bout ready to move on that I caught a flash o' motion out the corner o' my eye an' I turned to it, ready to pop my claws if I needed to. Sittin' on top o' a boulder in the middle of the green was a monkey, but this one was about as different from the one I'd seen earlier as it could get an' still be called a monkey. It had the general look of a rhesus, but it was a lot bigger, maybe four feet tall. But the most disturbin' thing about it was its head. It was too far away for me to get a good enough look to get an exact size, but its head was about average for a human o' my height. No matter how you slice it, that's way too big for a four-foot body.

After watchin' it for a few minutes an' decidin' it wasn't a threat, I started to turn to continue my search, but soon as I moved the monkey turned his head an' I swear it looked right at me. I froze in place, not sure if it could see me or not. Just by lookin' at it, you could tell that it wasn't a normal monkey in the first place an' with everythin' that Chris an' Bobby – an' even Orson, in his own way – had told me, I could count on nothin' I knew 'bout the species in the first place. So, we stood there, starin' each other down for about five minutes before it opened its mouth an' made a sound that sent a new chill down my spine because it was so unmistakably human.

Now I understood more than I had just a few minutes before what they'd meant when they told me people weren't the only ones becoming around here. Whether this monkey had been born this way or had become this way, it didn't matter. That sound told me that it knew what it was an' it was unhappy with its life. No matter what I may have felt about my life, no matter if I've thought an' even been told that I'm nothin' but an animal, I've always had the ability to speak o' the things I've seen an' done. But to be trapped in the body of a real animal without the means to do that would be a far worse torture than anythin' that's been done to me an' I felt a huge swell of pity for this creature in front o' me.

Finally, the monkey looked away from me an' hopped down from the boulder. It sprinted across the green in the general direction that I'd been headed an' stopped 'bout thirty feet away before turnin' its head to look at me again. I cocked my head but didn't move out o' my shadows, even though I knew it knew where I was. After about a minute, it sat down an' looked towards the northeast before turnin' back to me an' makin' that human sound again. I took a step forward an' it stood up, so I stopped again. I heard it sigh an' it sat back down an' stared at me. I realized then that it wanted me to follow it.

Now, no matter what anyone thinks about me, I am not stupid. In fact, I'm a lot smarter than a lot o' people – okay, mostly One-Eye – give me credit for. So even though the front o' my brain was tellin' me that followin' this thing was an incredibly dumb thing to do, my backbrain instincts were tellin' me just the opposite. Had this thing wanted to attack me, it had ample opportunity when I'd first seen it on the green, then again when it took off down the road. There was always the chance that this was one o' the smart monkeys that let the more aggressive ones do the wet work, but I really didn't get that feelin' off o' it. I told my front brain to fuck off an' crept cautiously forward.

When I got within about ten feet of it, it dashed forward again an' waited for me to catch up. I still looked around as I followed it, but everythin' was pretty much the way I remembered it from the trackin' exercise I'd done out here all those years ago. I didn't catch any other unusual scents; it was like this monkey an' I were the only things left alive in the whole world, which was more than a little unnerving. Still, I followed it for about fifteen minutes in this way, til we finally came upon an open field beyond the last o' the barracks.

The grass in the field stood 'bout three feet tall, plenty long enough to hide a troop o' evil killer monkeys, but I couldn't smell anythin' an' the moonlight was more than bright enough to give away any movement through the growth. I crept forward in a crouch, my eyes an' ears wide open. When I got close to it again, the monkey suddenly whirled 'round an' scurried up a drainpipe on the side o' the nearest barracks to the roof. It looked down at me, then back across the field. Well, it'd gotten me this far, might as well go all the way. I didn't think the pipe would support my weight, but the building was made o' cinderblock, so I popped my claws an' used them to climb up to the roof.

By the time I got up there, the monkey had already crossed to the other side. I looked at it one last time an' it made that eerie human sound again before grabbin' the drainpipe on that side an' disappearin'. It was clear that it had taken me as far is it meant to an' I silently thanked it for its help. I crouched as low as I could at the edge o' the roof an' scanned the field in front o' me. The building was only about four stories tall, but it gave me a pretty good view o' the area around me. I wasn't sure what the monkey had wanted me to see, but I had a feelin' I'd know it when I saw it. Half an hour later, I was proven right when I heard the sound o' a chopper comin' in from due north o' where I was sittin'. Instinctively, I pressed myself down flat on the roof as I watched it land. Somewhere beyond the edge of my vision was a landin' pad for this aircraft, which meant there was also someplace for people to go once they got outta it. The tall grasses that made up the field provided all the cover needed to conceal this landin' pad, which meant I would eventually have to figure out a way to get out there myself without bein' seen.

But that wasn't now. Now was simply recon. The landin' pad was for later, after I'd had more time to consider everythin' goin' on in this town. Right now was time to get back to Bobby, Chris an' Orson. I crept 'cross the roof to the other side an' used my claws to get back down, then took off at a jog. No sense in stayin' 'round here any longer than I had to.

The three of 'em were still sittin' in the jeep when I showed back up, kicked back an' drinkin' beers. Without askin', Chris handed me one an' I popped it open, finishin' a third o' it right off. They had the radio on, just barely loud enough for 'em to hear it. I was about to tell 'em what I'd learned when the DJ broke in for some between-songs patter. "That was 'Riders on the Storm' for those few people who didn't know. I'm Sasha Goodall and I'll be here til dawn with more mood music for you nightowls." Her voice was rich an' smooth as silk, one o' the sexiest sounds I'd ever heard. I looked over at Chris an' he had a look o' pure bliss on his face. He caught my glance an' smiled. "Sounds good, don't she?" He asked me.

I nodded. "Great voice, that's for sure. But if she's like all the other DJ's in the world, she don't look half as good as she sounds." Chris just smiled as Bobby burst out laughin'. "What?"

"Dude, she looks TWICE as good as she sounds." Bobby said, finishin' off his beer. "Maybe even three times."

"Nah, more like a thousand times." Chris said. "She's my girlfriend."

I raised my beer in a toast. "Lucky man."

"Luckiest ever." He replied, raisin' his own bottle and takin' a drink. "So, you see anything interesting?"

"Plenty, but I don't wanna talk about it here."

He nodded an' we all piled back into the jeep an' made our way back down the riverbed to a spot where Bobby could take it back onto the road. I expected him to take us back to Snow's house, but instead he turned to the west an' went right out o' the town limits til we got to a stretch o' beach. He took the jeep right onto the sand an' drove out across the dunes til we got to a peninsula where a single house sat. He pulled up beside it, shut the jeep off an' jumped out. "Welcome to my humble abode, mi amigo."

"No shit? This is great." I took a look 'round an' breathed in the fresh salty tang of the ocean. I love livin' at the mansion with Xavier, Storm an' the others, but deep down I'll always prefer isolation over anythin' else. Given a choice, I'll go to the mountains or nice forest somewhere, but if I could find myself a little place near the ocean like this, it would be damn near the top o' my list of places to take off to when the need to be alone is too great to be ignored.

Bobby smiled an' led us 'round the front o' the house. "Just wait here man, I'll be right back." I shrugged an' stood facin' the ocean. In the moonlight, the waves breaking on the shore looked black, tipped with silver where the foam was kickin' up. The steady pulse was hypnotic an' I could see why a surfer like Bobby Holloway would love livin' out here like this, away from everyone else. He came back a few minutes later with three beers, handin' 'em all around. Orson whined thinly an' looked at Bobby. "No way, my furry bro. You already had one tonight." The dog whined again an' licked his chops, lookin' at the bottle in Bobby's hand with undisguised longing. "Uh-uh, not gonna happen. You know how you get." Orson snorted an' turned his back on Bobby.

I couldn't help but grin. "I think he's pissed at you, bub."

"Yeah well, it happens." He replied. "Come on, we'll talk out here." He stepped off the porch an' led us the nearest dune, then sat down right in the sand. I followed suit, but Chris remained standing for a moment, wavin' to Orson to come on over. The dog refused for a bit, probably still sore because he'd been unable to trick Bobby into givin' him another beer. He finally joined us, but wouldn't look at Holloway. Bobby turned to me. "So, what'd you see out there?"

I gave 'em a quick rundown o' everythin' that had happened. When I got to the part 'bout the monkey, Chris nodded an' Bobby said "Big Head" like it was a name, but didn't seem surprised that it had helped me. They were surprised when I told 'em 'bout the chopper. "We didn't hear anything." Chris said, lookin' confused. "Sound like that, it would carry."

"Listen, I was about as far as ya could get on that base an' still be within the perimeter." I said. "Besides, I got better hearin' than you do an' it was pretty far out. Hell, I woulda never seen it myself if that monkey hadn't led me there."

"Big Head." Bobby spat an' took a swig o' his beer. "Major geek. You'd think he'd be the worst of all of them."

"But he helped us before too, remember?" Chris replied. "He left me that Mystery Train cap and that picture of my mom. He left us that security badge." He glanced over to me an' smirked. "It's funny, really. They call people like you 'mutant freaks' all the time, but Big Head really is one. Whatever he is, it was done to him. You can't help the way you born any more than I can."

I snorted an' finished off my beer. "Yeah well, I had shit done to me too, remember?" I said, holdin' up my fist. "Maybe Big Head could sense it somehow, knew we had somethin' in common that way."

"Dude, you keep saying that and you hold up your fist every time." Bobby said. "Do I even want to know what that means?"

I raised my eyebrow as Chris fell over laughin'. "Has anyone ever told ya that ya have a sick sense o' humor?" I asked.

"All the time, but I'm dead serious about this. What's the deal with the, um, fist thing?"

"Bobby, it's not what you're thinking bro." Chris said, catchin' his breath. "He was experimented on, a long time ago."

"What, out at Wyvern?"

"No, after that." I replied. "Bastard named Stryker up in Canada cut me open, covered my skeleton with metal. An' he gave me these." I held up my fist an' popped my claws.

Bobby yelped an' jumped to his feet, eyes wide. "Holy shit, dude!" He shouted.

I slid my claws back slowly. "Yeah, I've gotten a lot o' that."

He sat back down, a little shaky. "No wonder you didn't want the gun."

"Don't need 'em." I said, rubbin' my knuckles. "I am the weapon."

"Fuck man, I thought all you Canadians had was hockey and good beer."

"Oh, Stryker was American. Dunno if the Canadian government even had anythin' to do with what happened to me." I swallowed hard an' looked out over the ocean again. "I don't remember much o' my life before 'bout fifteen years ago, 'cept some flashes of 'em puttin' this metal in me an' now a little 'bout this Fort Wyvern out here."

"Do you think Stryker knew you were a mutant, even back then?"

"I'd bet on it. He needed someone who would survive his 'procedure' an' can you see a normal person livin' through somethin' like that?" He shook his head. "Exactly. So, I'm thinkin' he made up a bullshit story 'bout the joint task force just to get me down here so the people doin' the genetic experiments could analyze my mutation an' make sure I was the best choice for his own project."

"Jesus. If I thought I could, I'd get the hell out of this place man, go to Hawaii with Pia and surf my life away with her." Pia, I would find out later, was Pia Klick, the girl he was in love with an' she loved him too. She'd taken off one day to Waimea Bay, Hawaii to meditate, said she'd be gone a coupla months. That was over two years ago. One day, she called Bobby an' told him she'd discovered she was the current reincarnation of Kaha Huna, the Hawaiian goddess o' the surf. Because o' this, she had to remain celibate in order to keep herself pure enough to deserve the honor. A few weeks later, she told him that further meditation showed her that she could break that vow only for the current reincarnation of Kahuna, the Hawaiian god of the surf, hintin' that it was none other than Bobby who had that honor. Bobby still hadn't agreed with her on that point, simply because he loved her too much to lie to her just to be with her. I can respect that.

But I'm gettin' ahead o' myself. I looked over at him an' grunted. "Maybe you should, kid. Save yourself a world of trouble."

He shrugged. "Can't do it, bro. Except for Pia, everything I love best is right here." He glanced over at Chris an' I wondered how a sun lovin' surf bum had ever hooked up with a guy whose entire life was lived at night. But I've seen too much weird shit in my life to actually ask the question. Bobby finished off his beer an' rolled the bottle between his hands for a bit. "So, what's our next move?"

I tossed back the last of my own beer an' set the bottle down next to me. "You ain't got a next move, kid. This is all on me now."

"Hell no!" He shouted an' sprang to his feet. "We're already ass deep in the shit out at that place, especially Chris. If there's something out there, we want in."

"Listen kid…Bobby…I understand that these people fucked up your town, but you ain't exactly trained to take 'em on. They shot ya once an' it was only luck an' a weird ass time machine that got ya outta that one. They kill you again, it's gonna stick."

"We sure as hell aren't letting you go in there alone," Chris said quietly. "Besides, we'll bring backup."

I snorted. "Like who? Mungojerrie the talkin' cat?" I shook my head an' stood up, brushin' the sand off my jeans. "Sorry, but I ain't takin' civilians with me."

"Well, I'm not really sure they qualify as 'civilians', really. Tell you what, I'll make a deal with you."

Shit, here it comes. "What?"

"Meet us at my house tomorrow at sundown and you can tell our friends your story. If they think they can help and they can convince you that they can handle it, then we all come with you, all right?"

I turned it over in my head. I had no idea who he was plannin' on callin' in, unless his friends were mutants too an' he didn't tell me 'bout it, but I figured it couldn't hurt to humor him. "Fine. But don't hold your breath."

"I won't. But you should be prepared to be surprised."

AN: I just realized i hadn't updated this in a while, so here's another chapter for ya..:) I've been madly finishing my other story, the 5th installment in my epic saga, called "Prodigal Children"...this story is unrelated, but i've been told the others are a pretty good read...:) At any rate, special thanks to all my readers and especially my reviewers, who were Tahlmorra, Trackdog and Levanna...:) Tahlmorra: GO! NOW! Get those books as soon as you can...they're in my top 10 favorite books of all time and scary as all get out...you'll love 'em! Trackdog: I pm'ed you about that, but i'm not sure those are getting through, so i'll answer you here too...:) Yes, i know that Logan tops 300 pounds because of the metal...Doogie really is that big...:) Koontz doesn't seem to give a hard and fast weight for him, but by description, i guessed that 75 pounds was pretty accurate...but don't think he's soft! Not by a longshot, which you'll learn later in the story...:) Levanna: You won't see this for months, but i'm gonna miss you! Have fun over the summer and pm me when you get back and tell me all about it!

Please review!