What Happened On the Road…Luke 24:35
Logan drove fast but not recklessly; all he needed at this point was to get stopped by a Southern sheriff with a speed trap. He turned on the headlights as soon as he got a few streets away. It would be a relief when he reached the interstate. It was deserted at this time of night and in this area, but at least it was a thoroughfare, a route for others passing through this backwater state. He risked a glance back over his shoulder. “You all right back there?”
There was a long pause, then a tremulous voice. “What do you want with me?”
He turned his attention back to the road. “I don’t want anything with you, kid. Just had to get outta there before they came after both of us.”
“Where’re you taking me?”
He sighed. That was a damn good question. “I don’t know. You got somewhere safe to go? Family?”
There was another long pause, then her voice, small and sad. “No.”
Well, fuck. “Friends? School?” Nothing but silence answered from the camper. “Come on, kid, there’s got to be somewhere.”
“They don’t want me. They were all scared once I—“ He heard another choked sob. He could fill in the rest of the story, of course. Her mutation had manifested and in this area, fear outweighed both education and compassion by a mile. He focused on the road. What was he going to say to that? After a few minutes she spoke again. “What did you call me?”
“You’re a mutant.” He turned onto another road.
“Like on TV?”
He smiled grimly to himself at that. “Yeah, I guess.” There had been all too much news coverage about mutants for his taste lately—all of it scare stories, breathless is-this-the-end-of-the-world yellow journalism. Just more idiots scared of their own shadows, of what they didn’t understand.
“I never heard of any mutants like me.” She sounded doubtful.
Yeah, well. “Mutations are all different. That’s why they’re mutations.”
“How do you know?”
Smart little thing. He considered possible answers. I’m a mutant bounty hunter? I’m an undercover reporter? I’m doing a PhD? He settled for the truth. “I’m one too. I’ve met a few.”
He could feel her moving closer to the front of the camper. “Really?”
“Yeah.” He glanced up at the rear-view mirror; he could just see her, crouching in the back. “Come up here.”
Her heart rate increased at that. “Why?”
“You want to stay tied up?” After a moment he heard her crawling towards him. He fished in his back pocket and came out with a penknife; he held it out behind him.
“I don’t think I can open that.” She didn’t take it. “I’m wearing gloves and I can’t really…feel my fingers right now.”
Oh, for chrissakes. “Come here.” She clambered between the seats, a little unsteadily, and landed somewhat unceremoniously on the passenger side. He got the knife open with one hand. “Hold out your hands.” She did, and he managed to balance his attention between the road and her long enough to saw through the ropes. She moved back against the door as soon as they were cut, rubbing her wrists through the gloves.
“Thanks.” She fell silent again after that one word, and they drove on quietly for a while.
“I can get you to somewhere else. A city. Somewhere they don’t know. You can just tell ‘em you’re a runaway, they don’t have to know about…” He trailed off. It sounded pretty pathetic, even to him. What the hell was an underage mutant from a small town going to do in a strange city?
“Okay.” She sniffled audibly, and he closed his eyes briefly at the resignation in her voice. What the fuck was he doing? This wasn’t his problem.
“There’s some clothes in a bag back there somewhere. Find me a new shirt and one for you.” His was splattered with blood from the bullet and knife wounds and hers—well, it wasn’t really a shirt any more. She maneuvered past him again and he heard her sifting through his belongings. He kept his eyes on the road. After a few minutes, she came back. As she reached the front they went over a bump in the road and the camper swayed; she fell against his side and reflexively he caught her. She gasped and tried to pull away, but he kept a hand on her long enough to make sure she was on her feet. “It’s all right. Take it easy.”
She slipped back into her seat and held out a shirt to him. He could see that she was wearing a black t-shirt of his; he hoped it had been washed sometime in the last month. He took the garment she held out and dropped it into his lap as he reached to worm out of the blood-stained shirt he still wore. He was scrubbing at his shoulder to try and mop up the rest of the blood when he noticed her sitting on the edge of her seat, frozen in place, her head turned as far as she could manage towards the passenger side window; Logan could feel the rush of blood in her face and neck from all the way across the truck. He saw her bring one gloved hand to the side of her head and he almost laughed.
Modest little lady. He pulled the clean t-shirt over his head and tossed the bloody one into the back before pulling the shirt down. Then he glanced over again. “Okay, kid. Decent.”
She relaxed a little, and turned to sit forward. She still had her eyes averted; she drew her bare feet up onto the seat with her and he saw her pull the too-big shirt down over her knees.
“Relax, will you?” She gave him a startled glance. “Just sit back. It’s gonna be a while.” He didn’t plan to stop within state lines, though come to think of it, wasn’t that just a brilliant idea, taking a minor out of state. Well, screw it. “Tell me what happened back there,” he suggested, more to give her something to do than anything else.
“I…can’t really.” Her voice was still hoarse, and belatedly he remembered the marks on her neck. It was always a struggle to remember that other people didn’t heal when they were hurt. She put a hand up to her hair, trying to smooth it out.
“You all right?”
“Yeah. Thanks. For the shirt and—“ She gestured back the way they’d come with a nod of the head.
“’S’okay.” She put her head down on her knees then, leaning forward, and they drove on in silence. Logan didn’t really know what else to say to her. She was leaving everything she knew, probably, and he had exactly no experience talking to kids anyway. Eventually, he looked over and realized she was asleep, arms still hugging her knees. One loose lock of hair had drifted down over her face and on impulse he reached over to tuck it behind her ear, careful not to touch her skin. Relaxed in sleep, she looked even younger, and he wondered how in hell anyone could want to hurt her.
She slept until he pulled into a truck stop at about four in the morning. He parked behind several eighteen-wheelers and cut the engine; she lifted her head and blinked sleepily. Then he saw her eyes change as she remembered where she was.
“What—are we stopping here?” She rubbed a hand over her face. “Is this it?”
“No. This’s just a truck stop. I gotta grab some coffee. Unless you want to change your mind, call someone from here.” He couldn’t help thinking that the further he took her from where she’d started, the more trouble it was going to be.
“No. There’s no one to call.” Her voice was sad, but determined.
He gave her a calculated look. “You sure about that?” She had to have family, somewhere. “Where are your parents?”
“I can’t call them.” She wouldn’t look at him. He waited, and finally she sighed and looked up. “They’re the ones who took me to the church. They don’t want me, and even if they did…” She set her lips firmly; he had the feeling it was to keep from crying. “I won’t go back there. I’d rather die.”
“Don’t get melodramatic on me,” Logan said mildly, and was slightly amused when she narrowed her eyes at him.
“Thanks for the ride.” She reached for the handle of the door and he reached for her hand to stop her. The second his hand brushed hers she yanked away so violently she almost hit herself in the face. “Don’t do that!”
“Calm down! You’re wearin’ gloves, for chrissakes. Just relax. I’m not gonna send you back if you don’t want.” She sat there, breathing a little hard, but not moving, and slowly he moved his arm back from the door. “Your throat feel better?” When she’d raised her voice, it didn’t sound as hoarse as it had before.
Reflexively, Marie’s hand went to her neck. She swallowed experimentally, then nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.” She let her hand drop away and Logan looked at her a little curiously; the ridged wound that had encircled her neck was gone. He leaned forward.
“Let me see that. Don’t worry, I won’t touch you.” Reluctantly she lifted her chin as he leaned forward; he looked her over and then carefully lifted her hair away from the side of her neck.
“Is it bad?” Marie’s voice was high and nervous.
“No.” He let her hair fall back. The marks were completely gone, and he knew he hadn’t imagined them; he’d had to peel that cord away from her neck. Didn’t make sense. Marie was still looking uncomfortable, and he decided it didn’t matter, not right now. “Okay. You stay here.” She looked puzzled. “Look, after what happened…back there, it’s better if we’re not seen together, at least for a little while. Just get in the back if anyone comes by.” A roughneck walking in with a teenage girl would get noticed at a truck stop at four AM in Louisiana, even one that wasn’t barefoot and looking shellshocked. And when the death of the pastor hit the news, he’d just as soon they not know which way he’d gone. At the moment, there was at least half a chance that there wouldn’t even be a description of his vehicle. “You want anything? You hungry?” She shook her head. “Okay. I’ll be right back.” He got out of the camper, not looking back as he crossed the parking lot rapidly.
Twenty minutes later, when he returned, she was gone.
Logan opened the door and his senses told him immediately that she wasn’t there, though the blanket she’d been wrapped in still lay across the passenger seat. Part of him was incredibly relieved. And the other part—the other part he didn’t understand at all, but it was making it adamantly clear that he had to find her, that driving away and leaving her to be someone else’s responsibility was not an option.
Then he saw her coming towards him, across the parking lot from the dark shadows behind the building, and his relief at seeing her was even greater than his initial response at finding her gone. She moved more quickly when she saw him standing beside the vehicle, almost running, as if she were afraid he’d leave if she didn’t hurry. She scurried to her side of the camper and climbed back in. “I’m sorry,” she said hastily.
Logan leaned into the open driver’s side door. “Where were you?”
“No one saw me, honest.” She sounded scared. “I just had to…I mean, the one in the camper doesn’t seem to work.” She bit her lip and looked down. Logan almost laughed when he got it.
“Sorry, kid. Didn’t think about that.” He got in, handing a paper sack across the cab to her. “Here. Don’t spill it.”
She held the bag gingerly as he started up and got back out onto the road. When they were back on the main highway, he held out a hand. “Give me the coffee.” She opened the bag and handed over the steaming cup. “The Coke’s for you.”
She gave him a quick, surprised look. “Thank you,” she said, and he could tell it was an automatic response.
“Welcome.”
“What’s your name?” She was looking at him, holding the takeout cup poised, waiting for the answer. Which he wasn’t sure he should give.
“Logan.” He said it a little reluctantly.
“I’m Marie.”
“I know. I heard that kid back there.”
“Oh.” One soft syllable.
He shifted a little uncomfortably. “There’s a bunk in the back, if you want to lie down. Get some more sleep.”
“No, I’d rather stay up here. If that’s okay.”
“Whatever.”
She pulled her knees up again, tucking her long skirt over her feet, and watched the road for a while. Eventually she looked back at him. “Where are we going?”
He’d been thinking about that. “I’m not sure. I was thinking either Houston or New Orleans.” He knew people in both cities; maybe someone could figure out what to do with her. Although the people he tended to know….”You ever been to either of them?”
“I’ve never been anywhere. Except Atlanta, we went once when I was eight.”
Great. Logan sighed inwardly. She’d get eaten alive in a big city. Maybe cross Texas, somewhere in Arizona or New Mexico before he headed south? There had to be some kind of an organization she could go to, be taken care of.
“Mr. Logan? I’m sorry. I know you didn’t have to do any of this.”
“Just Logan, all right? Don’t worry about it.” He didn’t look over, but he could feel her gaze on him and it was making him even more uncomfortable. “What do you think?”
“I don’t want to be a bother,” she said quietly. “I know none of this is your problem. Anywhere is fine.”
And maybe it was the fact that her words echoed his own thoughts that made him so unreasonably angry. “”Look, kid, that’s gotta stop. It wasn’t your fault, and you’re not botherin’ me. Anyone would have—“
“No. They wouldn’t.” That was about the first thing she’d said that she sounded sure of.
“Well, quit apologizing. We’ll find somewhere you’ll be safe, and till then, it’s okay. Deal?”
There was a long moment of silence before she answered. “Deal.” He looked then. She was curled up, her chin resting on her knees again, looking uncertain and lost, but a little more hopeful. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s your…mutation?”
He gave her a sharper glance. “What’d you see? Back there?”
She looked confused. “I didn’t see anything. I didn’t look. I just heard the fighting, and Tommy shot at you, and then you came and got me.”
He thought about whether he should continue. “I heal fast. From, you know…gunshots and things. And my senses are extra strong.”
“Wow. That’s way better than mine.” His mouth quirked a little at one corner. “What comes out of your hands?”
Aw, shit. He remembered what the punk who’d attacked him had said. She didn’t need to know about the claws; as far as he was concerned, the fewer people who knew about them, the better. “Don’t worry about it, kid. It’s no big deal.” She withdrew at that, falling silent again. He drove for a while, until the silence was driving him crazy. “All right. You want to know?”
“Yes.” She had her chin set firmly again, an expression he was already starting to recognize.
“Claws. Metal ones.” He took a sour satisfaction in seeing the slightly fearful start she gave. Well, you asked.
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I see them?” Now he was the one startled.
“There’s nothing to see. They’re like knives.” She just kept staring at him, and finally he sighed—aloud, this time—and took one hand off the wheel. He released them slowly, one at a time.
“Wow,” she said again. Her eyes were wide, but she didn’t seem particularly scared or upset. “That’s a mutation?”
“No.” He retracted the claws, not responding to the unasked question. That he definitely wasn’t talking about, he didn’t care how long she sat there in silence. He rubbed his knuckles unconsciously.
“Does it hurt?” He looked over at her. What, to get stabbed? She nodded her head towards his hand. “When they come out.”
No one had ever asked him that before, and he answered before he thought. “Every time.”
She looked away then, a sad expression flickering over her features. “I’m sorry. You should’ve told me.”
“Hey. We had a deal. Cut the apologies.” She gave a half-smile at that. “It’s no big thing. And I told you, I heal. Fast.” The sad silent act was back. He drove another couple of miles before he couldn’t stand it any more. “So where do you think? Houston? New Orleans? You got any bright ideas?”
“Isn’t New Orleans where they have the big party?”
He smiled then; couldn’t help it. “Mardi Gras? It’s in February.” Not that it was likely to happen, not this year. It had been almost a year since the big storm, but things still weren’t normal in New Orleans. And that might be better, actually—people worrying about big disasters would be less likely to notice the little ones.
He shook his head. Christ. She’s a kid, not a disaster.
“Oh. My cousin, she’s older than me, she went to Tulane. She always talked about it.”
He raised an eyebrow. “This cousin still live there?”
“No. She graduated last year.”
Shit. Oh, well. Still. “Okay, you want to see New Orleans?” He could sense that her interest picked up.
“Yeah. If that’s okay for you.”
“New Orleans it is.” Made no difference to him. Stay on 59, he’d just cross over into Mexico on the east side instead of the west after he found her someplace to go. She fell silent again, but somehow this time it wasn’t uncomfortable. They drove on, through the night, and eventually when he looked over, she was asleep again.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
You have to get from here to there somehow. Right?