Chapter 4: Open Water
Logan removed the half empty beer bottle dangling from the now sleeping girl’s fingers and sat down on the wooden chair across from the bed of their tiny motel room, his elbows resting on his knees as he watched her chest rise and fall in slumber.
This wasn’t the first time he’d found himself with a beautiful woman in his bed – and beautiful she was, her long, dark hair now loose and splayed across her pillow, her flawless skin glowing a healthy rose on account of the beer (or three) that Logan had offered her in place of the proverbial olive branch.
It was the first time, however – at least that Logan could remember - that said beautiful woman would not be breathing heavily and screaming his name by the time the night was through. The girl must have sensed that, because she was a little apprehensive upon entering the room that Logan had rented for the night and finding that there was only one double sized bed.
He’d assured the girl again that he didn’t mean to harm her, and she relaxed a bit, then loosened up a bit more after chugging down her first beer. As she grew tipsier, Logan picked up a distinct southern twang in her speech, one that she had no doubt worked very hard to disguise during her time on the run.
Logan listened intently as she relayed to him the story of her accidental discovery of her mutation; a mutation which allowed her the ability to absorb people’s life energy, personalities, even their “gifts”, all with a simple touch. Logan learned that she had been on her own for just over three years, drifting at first from town to town, before being captured by Magneto, who had held her captive for months while he experimented on some machine he was building…then later on her. She had eventually escaped and fled to Mexico in the hopes that Magneto would not find her there.
Logan knew that this Magneto guy was a sicko, but the stories that the girl told him made his knuckles itch with the urge to tear the freak a new asshole. But first things first; he had to find some way out of this seemingly impossible situation. The clock was ticking; he’d have to come up with some way to appease Magneto, to stall him for a while until he could deliver the girl to safety. And at the present moment, he had no idea how he was going to accomplish that feat. What he did know was that he had to separate himself from the girl within the space of the next few days. The sooner he got her off his hands, the better.
Logan took a last glance at the sleeping girl’s form before standing up and removing his tank top, noticing for a moment how her long legs extended from the white tee shirt that he had offered her from his duffel bag. To say that the shirt was big for her would have been an understatement; she was practically swimming in it.
He peeled off his khakis and changed into a pair of black sweatpants, the closest thing he could find to pajama bottoms in the pack he carried with him. He was used to sleeping alone and in the buff, so this would definitely be a new experience for him. He turned off the dim lamp on the bedside table and lay down on the bed opposite to her, his head at her feet. He stared up at the wooden beams on the ceiling, his fingers moving to his chest to fondle the dogtags resting there.
Were you in the army? Don’t those mean you were in the army?
The girl’s question had been simple, but it was one that Logan couldn’t answer. He had actually wondered that very same thing when he woke up naked and in the snow fifteen years earlier, with no memory of who or what he was. What he did remember consisted basically of survival instincts, including how to either gut someone without leaving so much as a scratch on the outside, or how to julienne them without damaging a single vital organ.
He knew how to build a shelter, how to start a fire with next to nothing for kindling; he knew how to set traps, how to stalk prey. In an ironic twist of fate, it had been at the exact time that he wanted nothing more than to die that he realized he had at his disposal the very tools and skills that would ensure his survival.
He wasn’t able to answer the question about his having been in the army, but he was able to answer the question about the dogtags. He explained to her that they were not, in fact a souvenir from years of service, but rather a tracking device. They were part of the deal with Magneto…his insurance against Logan running off with his money.
Logan saw the girl’s eyes widen in realization that Magneto knew of their current whereabouts and pointed out that to remove the dogtags would cause more alarm than keeping them on, at least for the time being. As far as Magneto was aware, the pair had simply stopped to rest for the night before continuing on to the drop off point.
Logan wiped a few beads of sweat from his forehead and closed his eyes, wondering how he was going to get any sleep in this unforgiving heat. He must have been more exhausted than he had realized, though, because in no time at all he drifted off, joining Marie in slumber.
~*~*~
The nightmares were always the same. Strange faces, seen through a green, watery filter; the muffled sounds of laughter, champagne glasses being passed around…a celebration?…couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, could only lay and watch helplessly as a gloved hand descended into the murky green liquid, holding a syringe filled with molten metal, his soundless screams creating bubbles before his eyes, blurring the faces even further…he was drowning…choking…and then the pain, oh God, that searing, burning unbearable pain, and –
“AAAAAARRRGHHHHHH!”
Logan awoke with a jolt, adrenaline tearing through his veins as he leapt up roaring, claws unsheathed, the animal in him taking over as he pounced and sank his claws fist deep into something soft...something veiled by a thin white bed sheet. A few moments passed before the haze of his nightmare subsided and Logan realized where he was. He was in a bed… in a motel room…the motel room that he and the girl were staying in.
Oh fuck. Oh shit. The girl. I fuckin’ killed the girl.
Logan retracted his claws, his chest still heaving as he looked at the motionless lump beneath him. He took a deep, shaky breath before ripping the sheet away to reveal that what he had shredded had been nothing more than a down filled pillow. An unfamiliar sense of relief washed over him as he picked up the pillow in one fist, white feathers falling out of the three long gashes he’d made in the casing.
“Sorry ‘bout that, bub,” he mumbled as he threw the pillow to the floor. Logan ran a hand through his ruffled hair as he looked around the room, all traces of sleep leaving him when he noticed that the girl was nowhere in sight. He bolted out of the bed and stalked toward the bathroom, if one could even call it that. He didn’t find her there, and strange sense of concern began to nag at him as he stormed out of the motel room, bare chested and footed.
She was nearby, Logan could tell, because he caught a wisp of her scent on the warm July breeze. Just as he’d had her image memorized, so had he had her scent. It was one that reminded him of clover in springtime; it was a scent that was fresh and young and uniquely hers. Logan followed it through the palm trees lining the motel’s property until he came upon a nearby riverbank. Here, her scent was strongest, yet he still couldn’t see her. He was also picking up another scent…
…his?
Logan looked down and saw his tee shirt, the one that he had given to Marie, laying in the grass in a pile at his feet, beside it a towel and a pair of ladies’ underwear. Logan looked to the moonlit river just in time to see Marie emerge to the surface, the splash of the water creating the only sound in the dark night besides the crickets in the grass. He nearly had a heart attack right then and there.
She was naked. Wet and naked. Naked and wet. Naked and…naked.
Logan ducked behind the palm tree beside him as he watched her stand up in the shallow water of the river, her hands moving up to smooth her hair from her face, her perfect breasts and svelte torso revealing themselves to him as she did so. With the moonlight playing off of her ample curves, she reminded Logan of a siren…not the type of siren referred to in modern day language, but rather the type described by the ancient Greeks; a breathtaking vision rising from the water, capable of hypnotizing men and sinking ships with her beautifully entrancing song.
And hypnotized he was. Logan stood riveted to the spot as Marie disappeared under the water again for a few seconds, then came back up, floating on her back, her graceful arms moving above her head and waving through the water to keep her afloat. He felt muscles he didn’t even know he had tighten as she twirled onto her front again and then dove forward, disappearing again into the still, dark river.
Yep, this was going to be one hell of a long and torturous road trip.
Knowing that he probably shouldn’t be watching her as she swam – not if he planned on getting any sleep that night - Logan turned to head back to the motel room, but stopped when he didn’t hear her come up from the water again. He turned back to the river. The water was still and quiet. He stepped closer to the riverbank, waiting for her to emerge. When a few seconds passed and she still didn’t come up for air, Logan’s muscles tensed again, but for an entirely different reason this time…a looming sense of danger. He gave her five more seconds to appear, and when she didn’t, he dove into the river to find her.
~*~*~
Marie floated beneath the surface of the water, reveling in the cool sensation it had on her skin. The heat in the motel room had been unbearable, and she had woken up sweaty and unable to get back to sleep. Having noticed a river close to the motel, she decided to seek out some relief from the hot summer night. God, how it felt so good to be naked, and free, and…
…in someone’s arms?
Marie began to panic and struggle as she felt strong male arms encircling her tiny waist and pulling her to the surface of the water. She stopped struggling as she realized that it was Logan holding her, or rather crushing her to him, her hands pressed against his broad, muscular chest.
“Just what the hell do you think you’re doin’, kid?”
Logan’s words came in a soft growl, but Marie didn’t sense any anger in it. She’d only heard him growl twice in the short time that she’d known him; once inside of the diner, which she’d categorized as his predatory growl, and once on the side of the dirt road they traveled, which she’d categorized as his “gone berserk” growl. She would forever remember both of those as frightening sounds that she never wanted to hear again. The low, soft growl coming from him now, however, was definitely different from the previous two…and it was about to earn itself a whole new category.
“I could ask you the same thing,” she retorted, as she looked into his fiery eyes.
“Thought you were in trouble," he said, and Marie felt as much as heard his words as his deep voice rumbled in his chest. The chest that was now bare. And wet. And absolutely gorgeous.
“It’s called holding your breath, Logan,” she replied indignantly. “You should try it sometime.”
“Think I’m already doin’ that, darlin’,” he said softly, his lips moving close to her ear. Marie felt her knees begin to give way as she felt his hot breath on her ear, and was suddenly glad that he was holding her so tightly.
“Christ, kid, you could kill a man like this,” Logan whispered, making her suddenly aware of just how naked she was.
Marie looked into his eyes again, and realized that she was staring right into the heat that she had been trying to escape all night. His hands were pressing against her lower back, bringing her pelvis flush with his. And through the thin material of his sweatpants, it became clear to her that aside from nine-inch claws, there was another weapon of considerable size that Logan was concealing.
Yep, this was going to be one hell of a long and torturous road trip.
“I-I’m fine Logan,” she stammered. “I’ve been on my own for a while…I know how to take care of myself.”
“Fair enough...” he replied, his voice like honey poured over gravel as his finger began to trace circles on the small of her back.
“But you should know that there are wild animals out here…” Again, his mouth was close to her ear. Marie shuddered as she felt the vibrations of his words travel through her body.
“…vicious, hungry animals…” Logan was slowly twirling her around in the water, his embrace still tight around her, but that was not why she was feeling dizzy.
“…animals that bite…” His hand had moved up and was now tracing circles on her bare shoulder.
“And with all of this skin exposed,” he continued, his breath warming and teasing the soft flesh between her neck and shoulder, “You just might provoke one of them into attack.”
Marie tried unsuccessfully to clear her mind of the Logan induced haze that was now falling over her.
“I figure I’m probably more of a danger to them than they are to me,” she replied softly, wiggling her fingers against his chest. Another soft growl came from his throat at the drum of her fingertips on him.
“What makes you so certain they’re afraid of your skin?” he said, cocking an eyebrow mischievously, the intense gaze from his hazel eyes growing darker by the second.
“Well maybe they should be afraid,” she said, stumbling over words that she prayed made sense, and thinking that Logan may very well have fried a synapse somewhere in her brain…maybe two. “Especially considering I might really have been drowning.”
She continued, seeing the unspoken question in his eyes.
“My skin…I can’t control it when I’m unconscious.” He was speechless this time, so Marie kept babbling, struggling for sanity under the intensity of his stare.
“…something to think about the next time one of those animals has it in their head to play hero,” she finished.
Her words did nothing to loosen his hold on her, and for a brief moment Marie wasn’t sure that she even wanted him to. His embrace was strong and warm and safe, and it had been a long time since Marie had felt strong, warm, and safe. It was the sound of a coyote howling in the distance that finally brought her back to reality.
“Logan?” The word was nearly a whisper.
“Yeah kid?” His lips were close to hers as he watched her eyes intently.
“You can let go now,” she said.
He was apparently also coming back to his senses, because he relaxed his hold on her and drifted slowly away from her, his eyes still locked on hers as he moved toward the riverbank and climbed out of the water. He turned his back to her as she stepped out after him and grabbed the towel she’d taken from their motel room, wrapping it around her before following him back to the room.
Once they were there, Marie headed for the bathroom to dry off and change back into the large white tee shirt that Logan had lent her for the night. After ten minutes, she emerged, all dry except for her hair, which clung to the back and shoulders of her makeshift pajamas.
She noticed that Logan had changed into a different pair of sweatpants, the wet ones hanging over the railing outside of their room. He lay ready for sleep, his head toward the foot of the bed. She crossed the room to her side of the bed and nearly tripped over a pillow on the floor. A very shredded, tattered pillow.
“Had a bad dream,” Logan grumbled as she bent down to pick it up. “Here, take mine.”
Logan pulled his pillow out from under his head and tossed it to her end of the bed. Marie had barely taken a seat on the edge of the bed when Logan suddenly shot up and crossed the room to the window, brow furrowed in concentration.
"Logan, what’s wro-"
“Sh-sh,” he cut her words off, cocking an ear to the door. He was hearing something, Marie could tell that much, but she wasn’t able to hear what had him on guard. “Stay here,” he said in a hushed voice, shooting a glance in her direction. Marie watched as he extended the claws of one hand and reached for the doorknob with the other.
Suddenly, the door was kicked in, hitting Logan and sending him reeling backward toward the bed. Marie screamed as two male figures, faces masked and dressed head to toe in black stormed into the room.
Marie scrambled across the bed, jumped off, and backed up toward the wall as Logan rose to his feet, the claws of both his hands unsheathed as he stood. Before he could get his bearings, one of the men raised a gun, pointed it at Logan, and shot a silenced bullet to his forehead.
“LOGAN!”
Marie shrieked and watched in horror as Logan reared back, stumbled, then crumpled into a heap on the floor, his heavy body making a loud crashing thump on the wooden planks. It was the only word she could manage in the shock of the scene before her. Her mouth hung open, eyes wide with fear as they darted between the now dead Logan and the two dark figures nearing her.
“That’s her,” one of the men said. Marie cowered against the wall as they approached, stepping over Logan’s lifeless body. A gloved hand reached out to grab her, then suddenly stopped at the sound of a voice behind him.
“You picked the wrong fuckin’ room, bub.”
Just when Marie had thought she couldn’t handle another shock, she saw Logan scrape to his feet behind the two men, the bullet still lodged in his forehead, blood trickling down the side of his face.
And he looked really, really pissed off.
No sooner had the two men turned to face him than he sank his fists into both of their midsections, growling ferociously as the adamantium tore into their flesh. Marie watched from behind as both men coughed and sputtered, Logan showing no mercy as he ripped his claws upward and twisted, delivering instant death to them both. Logan retracted his claws, stepping toward Marie as the bodies of the two men fell in a mangled, bloody heap to the floor.
“You alright?” he asked her in between panted breaths. Marie didn’t know how to respond to that. In the space of about two minutes, she had seen two men burst into the room, shoot Logan to death, or so she had thought…then she saw a dead Logan rise from the floor and shred said men into about a dozen pieces each. Oh yeah, she was all right.
“Kid, you alright?” Logan repeated, a little louder this time, trying to jog her out of her shock. Marie’s mouth remained open and speechless, her body growing faint as she watched the wound around the bullet in Logan’s head close up. She wanted to say something, but it was as though the message wasn’t getting from her brain to her lips. She simply watched in silence as the bullet popped out of Logan’s now completely healed forehead and fell to the floor with a soft clunk. Logan’s eyes followed hers to the flattened slug.
“Oh yeah….uh…that’s my insurance,' he said "I’ll explain later.” Logan rubbed his forehead in the spot where a bullet wound had been not moments before. “We gotta move. NOW.”
Logan pulled on his boots and grabbed his duffel bag as Marie scrambled to buckle her sandals. As soon as she had them on, Logan grabbed her wrist, pulling her toward the door, her green waitress uniform and his wet sweatpants long forgotten in the aftermath of the current catastrophe.
Logan shuffled Marie out of the door, and she watched as he paused for a moment, hands going to his chest to rip off his dogtags. He tossed them onto the bed before closing the door and ushering Marie toward the jeep, the look in his eyes needing no explanation. Because the moment she saw Logan rid himself of those dogtags, Marie knew exactly what he didn’t want to say…
…they were both on the run now.
~*~
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