It took a month before they let me see him. A month. And they warned me. I wouldn’t be able to go to him. I wouldn’t be able to talk to him. He wouldn’t necessarily even register my presence. And he wouldn’t be as pretty as he was the last time I saw him. Pretty? What a strange word to use.
“We have to keep him in that chamber until the radiation level sinks to the normal level.”
But why it is so dark in there? I can barely see… There’s something, a shape, curled on to a cot at the far wall…
“We keep the lighting in the chamber at low level because bright light seems to hurt his eyes.”
Closer. Closer to the thick glass window separating me from him. Closer until I can press my hands against the cool surface. Geiger meters that survey the chamber keep crackling at the background.
“Adamantium on his bones is still highly radioactive, but we believe that we’re able to release him from the containment to the psychiatric ward after six months from now.”
It’s moving. He’s moving. Away from the cot. Towards the window. Towards me.
“He can’t see through that glass. Unfortunate side-effect of the led shielding.”
He can’t see. He can’t hear. He can’t smell. How is it possible that his palm lands flat against the glass right where my palm rests? How is it possible that those blind, milky white eyes stare straight at me? And how it is possible for him to stay upright and not to scream when his flesh is practically boiling over his bones, blisters and boils bubbling and bursting, his healing too busy to fend off all of them? Why? Why is he still alive? Why can’t they just kill him? Why?
“I think this is quite enough…”
No. It isn’t enough. He’s leaning closer. Closer to the glass separating us. His lips brush against the surface briefly and leave bloodied print on it before he falls backwards and crawls back to the corner. Curls back on to the cot.
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Hicks is dead. I thought it was already over, but he came to see me after I got back from my visit to Logan.
“How was he?”
I told him the truth. That I’d rather seen Logan dead. Hicks let out a dry cackle, almost laugh.
“At least he’s stopped screaming. I don’t know if he’s quiet because his throat is sore or if he’s not hurting so bad anymore. But he’s going to be alright.”
Yes. Logan will be alright, but Hicks won’t. I was wondering whether I should tell him what I saw when I looked in his eyes, but then Hicks solved my dilemma for me.
“I… I just came to say goodbye, Marie.”
He knew. I didn’t have to tell him about the white flashes that I saw clouding his eyes briefly. He knew and told me, smiling slightly, that he had bought a ship. A small skiff. He was in a hurry already. He was going to sneak in to the base and fill the skiff with every possible explosive device he could find, then set a course to that jungle planet.
“I know that it hardly makes a difference. We dropped goddamned nukes there and hell of a lot good it did back then… But at least I can squash some of those fucking maggots on my way out.”
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