CH. 1
"To Get to The Other Side"
Lights flashed, the deafening sound of drilling was overwhelming, and the desperate need to breathe was daunting.
His eyes shot open, and his temper erupted; the familiar sensation of the bones in his hands sliding apart was somehow different; but right now, it didn't matter because he needed to get out.
The bonds on his wrists were cut away, giving him the leverage to rocket out of the unknown liquid substance he had been submerged in.
With a mighty roar, he was free from his restraints and could now breathe again, his claws split the skin on his knuckles, the pain was different, worse.
Had they tried to kill him? Was this all a ruse to trap him? He would soon find out; a man in tactical gear up on a catwalk aimed and fired at him, the bullet hitting him in the face.
[Devon, Ontario, Evening, 2020]
He was jolted awake by the unsolicited memory, darting his eyes across the room; an exhale escaped him when he realized he was alone in his motel room.
Looking at himself, he could see he still had all of his clothes on but was lying in bed, boots and all, something he didn't do.
Sitting up and swinging his legs over the side, a soft jingle caught his attention; looking down, the sound had originated from the dog tags with the name "Wolverine" stamped on them, which had fallen to the floor.
Leaning down and picking the accessory up, the grizzled man attached it to his belt and put the tags in his pocket.
With that taken care of, he got up from the bed and lumbered over to his army-green, tattered canvas jacket on the hook by the door; taking the coat in his hands and looking it over, he decided he wanted a drink.
He couldn't find his wallet; patting his jacket down, he felt something in his wallet's place.
A small piece of paper with the words: "Enjoy your stay in Devon, Logan! XOXO ~ Keke" written on it; Logan crumpled the note and shoved it in his jeans pocket before bursting out of the door and heading for the bar just down the sidewalk of this strip mall.
Stepping wordlessly around bar patrons and visitors of the motel, he got to the bar and shoved the double doors open unceremoniously.
The sights, sounds, and smells hit his heightened senses like a freight train; the smell of cheap perfume and desperation; hung heavy in the air, along with the standard booze-y base scent.
The song "I'm So Lonesome (I could cry)" played over the speakers as he made his way into the crowded room.
One scent, in particular, was odd, the aroma of someone far too young to be in a bar.
Logan pushed the idea that a kid was in a bar at this time of night; he didn't have time for kids with his wallet missing.
Scanning the crowd, he found the woman who had accompanied him to his room.
His eyes settled on a curvy woman in skinny jeans and a crop top leaning up against the bar, laughing at something a man had just told her.
Logan's jaw clenched as he strode over to the thief, who, upon seeing him, dropped her smile.
Stepping closer, Logan's eyes darted to the brutes beside her, new targets, no doubt.
"Keke, I think you have something that belongs to me," Logan growled, noting that the two beside her stood up.
"Logan, I have no idea what you're talking about," Keke said, throwing her hands up as she shrugged.
"My wallet; I want my wallet!" Logan declared, catching sight of the child behind the bar; maybe she was here with one of her parents.
"This guy bothering you?" one of the brutes said, getting ready to stand in between Logan and Keke.
"Stay outta my way, Tiny!" Logan snarled as the second brute walked up to the standoff.
"He's buggin' me!" the second brute quipped as he made a move to push Logan.
"Hey!" The bartender yelled; everyone in the pub quieted down after that. "Take it outside!" the man shouted, ushering the would-be fighters out of the bar.
Logan looked the two brutes up and down, then looked to Keke, giving her a steely look. "You stay here," Logan growled before shoulder-checking one of the men, despite the fact his shoulder only came up to the brutes' bicep.
Some of the patrons laughed at this display, but Logan ignored it and made for the exit, the brutes right on his heels.
Cracking his neck and popping his knuckles, Logan waited for them to get ready. "This is your last chance to beat it," Logan said casually, taking his jacket off and setting it on the porch steps leading up to the bar.
The response that he expected came to be with the rising of their fists and laughs from the bystanders.
The first one rushed at Logan, flailing a haymaker at him; Logan ducked under the strike with ease, countering with a left hook to the man's ribs.
The brute recoiled and stumbled backward while his buddy rushed in, launching his right hand, and hitting Logan in the head; the clang of metal and the sound of bones crunching made the audience gasp as the second man fell to the ground, kicking up dust.
Logan closed the distance with the last man standing and slammed his fist into the brute's head, ignoring the block that the assailant had attempted.
The brute landed hard in the dirt; his ears were ringing from the blow; Logan grabbed him by the shirt collar and lifted him to his face. "Next time, take my advice, Bub!" Wolverine growled, releasing the brute from his grip.
Logan stood up and lumbered over to the steps where he left his jacket; his eyes fell on Keke, who was now standing next to his coat.
"Did you put it back?" Logan asked as he picked up his jacket and patted it down again.
"Put what ba–" Keke said nervously, fidgeting with her fingers.
"My wallet!" Logan interrupted, extending his hand and waiting.
"I really don't know where it is!" Keke blurted out, her nervous energy becoming apparent.
"You're the only person who was in my room, so where the hell is it!?" Logan shouted with an intensity that made the patrons step back.
"I- I lost it," Keke admitted, stepping back a foot.
Logan felt a flash of anger at the revelation, a snarl forming on his face as he walked to close the distance between them.
"Not only did you steal from me, but you lost i-!?" Logan roared before hearing the familiar sound of a shotgun cocking.
"Son, you're scaring the customers," the bartender said in an even-keeled tone.
Logan looked over the crowd and saw their frightened faces; the girl was even outside; she had witnessed the whole thing, he reckoned.
"At least let me look for my wallet," Logan said, trying to calm his voice, if not his feelings.
"Nuh-uh," The bartender announced, keeping his gun trained on Logan.
The lone wolf stepped closer but stopped again when the weapon was pointed at him again; snarling, Wolverine swung down with his left hand extended, claws protruding from his knuckles.
Wolverine slashed through the shotgun like butter; the bartender raised his hands in surrender. "Please leave!" the bartender whimpered, hoping his plea would be heard.
Coming down from his rage again, Logan looked at the crowd and saw someone filming on their phone; Wolverine sheathed his claws before he pulled his jacket on and stomped down the stairs and out to his truck, an old, beat-up Ford Bronco.
Slamming his door beside him, Logan started up the vehicle and sped in reverse, and turned the wheel, putting it in drive, and raced towards the exit.
Logan was muttering to himself and shaking his head; movement in his mirror made him put his foot on the brake as he couldn't believe who he saw, the girl.
Rolling down his manual window, Logan let the girl approach. "What the hell do you want, kid?" Logan asked gruffly, trying to figure out if he knew her from anywhere as he put the truck in park.
The girl was breathless from running after the truck; Logan could now see she had ridiculous pink hair and had probably been on the run or something, given the fact he could smell her, and her clothes were dirty and ragged.
"Can I have a ride?" the girl asked when she had caught her breath, Logan rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Please!?" the girl added after seeing his reaction.
"I don't give rides, call a taxi or something," The berserker sneered as he began rolling his window up.
"Please! I'm like you!" The girl almost shouted, stopping Logan as he looked at her with a confused face.
"What do you mean, like me?" Wolverine asked, feeling his temperature rising.
"I have your wallet, I took it from her when you were going outside, she never noticed," The girl explained, handing the wallet to him.
Taking it in hand, Logan opened up and saw that most of his money was still present; looking back up at the girl, Logan nodded dismissively. "Well, thanks kid," Logan said, beginning to roll the window up again.
"Wait! I'm one of you!" the girl shouted, putting her hands on the truck, something that didn't impress Logan one bit.
"You're a mutant, is that what you're saying?" the wanderer asked, his mind wandering back to his days as an X-Man; it had been a very long time, years in fact.
"I am!" the girl said, trying to keep her voice hushed, they were about sixty yards from the crowd that still lingered outside, close enough that she didn't want to shout if she could help it.
A sigh escaped his nose as she admitted her predicament. "Not my problem," Logan muttered avoiding her eyes until after he had finished speaking, he wasn't in the mood to help some random kid flee from her problems, but he also knew how bad it was getting out there for mutants with the government trying to pass laws that would enable law enforcement to round up people with even suspicion of being a mutant.
"Please sir, I don't have anywhere to go!" the girl begged, leaning on the car door, her fingers grasping at the threshold of the door and window.
Logan only now noticed that he had both his hands on the steering wheel in front of him, his mind had been made up, but he hated his decision. "Don't call me sir," he grumbled nodding his head to the passenger seat.
He watched her face turn to one of shocked elation, he wondered just how long she had been running before she found him.
Suddenly a street light went from normal to intensely bright before popping, making the girl flinch as she stumbled around the truck and jumped in.
Taking off, Logan looked at the girl, no older than twelve, maybe thirteen if he guessed high, she didn't even have a backpack, just a hoodie and jeans. "What the hell was that?" the berserker asked, praying she wouldn't make his truck explode.
"I sapped their phones, I didn't mean to transfer it to the light," the girl explained, her head hung and her eyes on her lap.
Logan's eyebrows drew together like he knew what sapping a phone meant. "You did what?" he questioned further, technology outside of vehicles largely eluded him.
"I sucked all the energy out of their phones, and sent it to the light!" she replied, hoping her more simple phrasing would help him understand.
"Oh, so you're one of those techno whizzes, huh?" Logan said hoping she wouldn't get an inflated ego. "What were you gonna do with that energy?" he asked since the question had just dawned on him.
"I hoped to get some of it in my phone…" the girl muttered, probably didn't want him to hear, but his sharp ears easily picked up her voice.
"Check the glove box, might have a cord in there," Logan answered, keeping his eyes on the road.
Silence fell over the vehicle as they drove down the road, he almost could have believed he was alone until he heard an unhappy grumble.
"Tough luck, kid!" Logan said as he kept his attention on the road.
"Can we listen to the radio, at least?" she asked, clearly let down by the lack of phone cords.
"You can turn it on, no changing stations!" he replied, sternly.
Not even a moment later, the radio crackled to life, and "God's Gonna Cut You Down" began playing.
The song was familiar to Logan, he would indeed run for a long time, a part of him wished he'd get cut down sooner rather than later.
The night eventually turned into morning, they'd been on the road for a few hours and the girl had fallen asleep, the song "The Last Word in Lonesome is Me" could be heard pouring out of the radio's speakers.
Logan always hated driving through the night, but he figured the stunt he pulled back in Devon and the kid in his passenger seat were just to blame for his lack of sleep.
"What channel is this?" the girl croaked, her voice still sounding groggy.
"The channel it's staying on," the berserker replied gruffly, it was a pretty good song, after all.
He could hear the impatience growing in the girl's voice. "Well, who's singing this, it all sounds the same!" she exclaimed.
"Roger Miller," he answered, turning the wheel and taking a curve through a city.
"Ok, uh… Where are we?" She asked, seeing the cityscape around them.
Breathing in with his mouth and exhaling through his nose, Logan readjusted his grip on the wheel and shifted around in his seat, trying to find a half-comfortable spot. "Toronto, we'll be in the States in about an hour," he replied.
He saw the girl nod out of his peripheral vision and noticed her bow her head, before she turned to look at him.
"So where are we going?" the girl asked, rubbing her eyes and sitting up a bit to wake herself up.
"Xavier's School for gifted youngsters," Logan replied, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket and setting it on the dash.
"Is it safe?" Logan heard the girl ask as he just had a thought hit him.
"Do you have any I.D.?" he asked, his voice indicating it was urgent.
"No, I don't," she replied promptly, he could hear the confusion in her voice, he assumed she didn't travel out of the country as much as he had.
"We can't cross the border then," he grunted, swerving into a gas station. "Stay here, I'll figure something out," Logan said before exiting the vehicle and putting the gas pump in, he pulled out a rugby flip phone and began dialing a number.
The line opened up and a voice came over the other end. "Hey, it's Logan," The mutant began, waiting for the man to finish greeting him, before he spoke again.
"I need a favor."