Ten years ago Marie had manifested, early age of nine. Accidentally killed her father, and unknowingly helped a Destroyer to escape. She managed to hide her mutation for three years, before another accident exposed her, and she was forced to flee from her home. She had been drifting along the caravan route, doing odd jobs along her way, supporting herself for the best of her abilities. That’s how she ended up standing behind a bar, an apron tied to her waist, room full of drunken customers to keep an eye for and serve liquor.
In a weird way she was grateful for the severe scars she carried all over her body, a reminder of the night her father died. They gave her a plausible excuse to keep covered from head to toe in all climates. As soon as Marie told her employers about the fire, how her fathers forge had mysteriously exploded and she had gotten burnt, they didn’t question her will to wrap up to several layers of cloth.
“A beer.” Order was grunted so low and hushed tone Marie barely heard it. There was nothing low and hushed in the man that had spoken. He was one of the fighters, part of the entourage that drifted from settlement to another, fighting for money against anything and anybody willing. Tall, dark, broad-shouldered and unusually hairy. Most drifters shaved off everything except their eyebrows to keep of lice and other vermin. This one had thick, dark hair with wild, earlike peaks on it, really old-fashioned muttonchops, and what she had seen from the cage, thick rug of chest hair that trailed low on his stomach, disappearing under the waistband of his jeans. Most of the fighters were loud and obnoxious, showering her with rude comments and even ruder proposals, but this one opted to stay silent, night after night. Just sitting there and downing beer after beer, like there was no tomorrow.
She placed the bottle in front of him, and flinched back when another customer tried to grab her hand. Marie could have sworn that she heard the fighter growl low in his throat before his hand latched to the one that had tried to grab her.
“Didn’t know she was taken. Sorry about that, Logan,” other man said retreating. The one he had called Logan, the one that had ordered the beer, just sat there, staring blindly at the bottle in front of him.
“Thanks,” she nodded and chucked another bottle in front of her savior. Man just shrugged, gulping down the first one and taking the one she had just given under his scrutiny.
Rest of the night flew by without incidents. Just the usual banter and lewd comments, but nobody tried to grab her anymore. She delivered what they ordered and kept replacing Logan’s empty bottles with new ones.
“How the hell do you do it?” Marie wondered out loud when she eyed the pile of the empty beer bottles she had put aside. Bar was closed, she was alone, and she had the time to observe her surroundings. She had kept putting Logan’s bottles to an empty bin, conveniently placed on her side of the counter at the same spot he used to sit on the other side. There must have been enough bottles to put at least five big men under the table. Yet she had seen Logan when he was leaving, and he hadn’t even been tipsy. She shrugged. Some people knew how to hold their liquor. She let it slip out of her mind and grabbed a broom.
Floor was littered with broken glass, small scraps of paper and bottle caps. As Marie got closer to the cage, sweeping from corners to the center, she started to encounter different variety of trash. Wads of cotton. Bloodied rags. Small, broken vials. Rolls of tape. Even syringes.
She really didn’t want to think about what went down in that cage, when fighters were in. She closed her eyes and ears and sold booze. Marie knew she could have gotten obscenely rich in no amount of time if she used the knowledge she had gained by listening the fighters. If she wanted, she could have made a few bets, and leave this place for good. But she was quite sure she didn’t want that kind of money. She wasn’t that desperate yet. Most of the fights ended when there was one conscious and one unconscious fighter in the cage. But some of those ended with one alive and the other dead. And she was dead-on sure she couldn’t have accepted any amount of money over a cold corpse.
Next night, next round of fights and drinks. But it was a different night for Marie. It was the anniversary. The night of the fire. Many years she had spent this night remembering, curled to a tiny, sobbing heap, but few years ago it had gotten easier. And tonight she was working. Moody, ready to burst to tears at any moment, but she had figured she couldn’t keep regretting for the rest of her life about something she had no power over.
It seemed to be a different night for Logan, too. Marie had labeled him permanently depressed, but he seemed to be on a chipper mood. She even managed to catch him smile occasionally. Other fighters were on a foul, bitter mood, throwing dirty glances at his direction.
“It’s not natural…”
“…Berserk. Saw how he just shrugged it off?”
“Like it was nothing.”
“…Kept beating…”
“You’re on a good mood tonight. Who pulled that rod off from your ass?” Marie asked. Logan just smirked and shrugged his shoulders.
“Nobody. It’s a good night. Give me another one.” Usually he drank beer, but now he had been ordering whiskey.
“Coming right up. What are you celebrating?” She asked, filling his glass. Logan tossed it back like it was water.
“I don’t know. Freedom?” He grumbled and pointed at the empty glass. She refilled it.
“Freedom?”
“Nothing. Nothing really. Just been a good day, and good night. Made a few bets, won them, and tomorrow I’m going to kiss this cruddy, fucked up circus good-bye. Got my own wheels, and a place to stay. Life is good.”
“I’m glad everything worked out for you…” Marie muttered hurrying to hand out a tray filled with beer bottles before returning to him.
“You’re in a crappy mood. Who shoved that rod up in your ass?” Logan asked.
“Nobody. Has been a crappy day. But I’m happy for you,” she tried to force a smile on her face. She really was genuinely happy for everybody who could take off on their own; free to do as they pleased, where ever they wanted to do it.
Logan didn’t know what made him linger after the closing hour. What made him stalk in the shadows and follow her. She was just a bartender. Friendly face in the crowd. Source of booze. But something had been off during the whole evening, buzzing just out of his range. His gut had tried to tell him something, and Logan tended to listen to his gut. It hadn’t been wrong before. When he heard a scuffle, and something being hit from behind the corner he knew it hadn’t failed him this time either.
He recognized them immediately. A man that had tried to grab the bartender two nights ago. And that bartender, small and fragile looking thing, slouched on the ground. Man spat on her.
“I’m not good enough? Huh? Is that what this is about? Let me tell you something about this Logan of yours…” Logan heard the man hiss. For a moment he pondered his options. He could just walk away. After all, he was leaving tomorrow. He could turn around, forget all of this and walk away. Then man crouched next to her, yanking her head up from her hair, making her whimper, and option of leaving was taken out from him. He recognized that whimper.
When he finally made his move she was out cold, unconscious, so he didn’t have to worry. Claws were itching just under the surface of the skin between his knuckles. Logan waited until he got the full attention of her assailant. Then let razor-sharp extensions slowly inch out from his hands. Three from each hand, nine inches long and curving. Claws shimmered in the moonlight.
“I knew it…” Man huffed just before Logan sunk those claws to his stomach, splitting tissues like they were made out of butter.
“A mutie…” Man gasped, light of life flickering and blinking in his eyes before turning off completely.
“Wrong. Two of them,” he corrected the dead man and scooped the bartender’s limp form to his arms.
“When I told you to take care of yourself, this wasn’t exactly what I meant…” He whispered scanning their surroundings before taking a long route to the warehouse where he kept the truck he had won earlier.
The bartender was still unconscious when Logan reached the warehouse, but he couldn’t smell any serious injuries on her, just some cuts and bruises. Again he was left with a difficult choice. Should he leave her here, where she clearly had a life of sorts, or should he take her with him. Both options had their pros and cons. But her safety weighed more on his scale than her possible discomfort. Logan eased her from his lap to the passenger’s side of the truck, securing her there with a seatbelt. She had been the sole reason that he had managed to escape all those years ago. He should at least try to repay that somehow.
He expected her to bolt and scream when she came back to her senses. Instead she just opened her eyes, took in her surroundings and stayed still.
“Hi. I took care of that bastard. Couldn’t leave you there. You were pretty out of it,” Logan explained, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.
“Okay. What are you going to do? Do you expect some sort of compensation for your troubles?” She asked.
“No. But I was in a hurry and couldn’t leave you there alone.”
“Could you let me out? I can walk back from here… I guess…” Marie said, gazing through the dusty windows.
“Hell, no. We have been driving over an hour. I’ll give you a lift to the next outpost.”
“And what am I supposed to do there? I’m grateful that you helped me, but all my stuff is back in my place, including money.”
Shit. He hadn’t really thought about this. Then something made him open his mouth again.
“You could tag along with me for a while.”
“And do what?” She asked.
“I need somebody I can trust. A clean person,” he said, hoping she would catch his meaning.
“If I let you fuck me, what’s in it for me?” She asked.
“Food. Clothes. Protection. A ride to where I’m going.”
“And what happens after we get there?” She asked.
“Haven’t thought about it yet,” Logan grunted. She sat in silence for a while.
“I have some scars…” Marie started.
“I don’t care.”
“And I haven’t done anything before,” she said.
“I haven’t either,” Logan confessed.
He had manifested young. Army had caught him. Destroyers were kept on a tight leash. Chemically neutered. Nobody wanted more muties in this world. And after he had escaped he hadn’t really been able to trust people enough to allow anybody to invade his personal space.
Marie wasn’t sure of what to think. Had she actually made a deal? Agreed to whoring herself to the man sitting next to her? And how the hell was she planning to go through with it without either revealing her status as a mutant or killing him in the process?
“I don’t think it’s a good idea…” She started, unsure how to continue.
“Fuck. I’m not going to rape you. If you don’t feel like it, the deal’s off. I just… It was just a thought. You feel like I could trust you. And you don’t look sick or anything… Shit. Just forget it,” Logan huffed.
Logan was actually relieved. He didn’t know what had made him offer that deal for her in the first place.
“Could you still give me a ride to the next settlement?” Marie asked timidly.
“Yeah. I’ll help you to find a ride back home after we get there. Someone decent.” Decent?
“You have got to be kidding me…” She muttered low under her breath. Logan’s gaze snapped from the road to her face, one eyebrow cocked in a questioning manner.
“Sounded a bit strange, coming out from the same mouth as the not so decent proposal earlier.”
“I already told you to forget it,” he quipped harshly.
They reached the next settlement after three hours ride along the bumpy caravan route. And it soon became apparent that wasn’t a place to be if you were a mutant. Place was crawling with Hunters and groups of Destroyers with their Guards.
Logan parked the truck to a back alley of a bar, cursing softly. His passenger was shifting on her seat nervously, taking quick glances from their surroundings. Probably afraid of the furious looking Destroyers.
“How about we get the fuck out of here. Right now. It’ll be another day before we reach the next settlement, but…” He started, when Marie suddenly grabbed his arm, face pale and ashen.
“Drive!” She shouted. He took a glimpse from the rearview mirror and hit the gas. Group of Hunters were approaching the truck.
“Christ! That was close!” Logan hissed after they had left the settlement and the Army behind them. To Marie he looked a tad bit too relieved.
“I won this truck in a fight. This baby is probably stolen from the Army…” He muttered an explanation. Marie nodded. Of course. For a moment she had thought… No. There were no free mutants, aside her. She was the only one. Alone.
“What were they doing this far from the battlefield?” She asked. Logan shrugged.
“They were probably on their way to the outpost. Fresh from the assembly line.”
“Assembly line?” Marie asked puzzled.
“Not all muties have aggressive mutations. They need enhancements. Implants and other crap like that. That’s where the good doctors step in. Screw up their heads and then screw up their bodies. I thought everybody knew that.”
“I know only what Nana told me once, when I was just a kid. And I saw Destroyers years ago…” She said, and then quieted.
“They’re just people. Fucked up in the head, but just people like you and me.”
“Daddy used to say that people who spoke like that should be sent to the battlefield with muties.”
“What about your mom?” Logan asked.
“She died when I was born. Daddy never spoke about her. I don’t even know what she looked like.”
They drove in silence for a while. Scenery around them was barren. Rocks and sand. Small white patches here and there. Salt.
“How do you seem to know so much about Destroyers?” Marie suddenly asked. Again Logan shrugged.
“I’m a good listener. Been hearing rumors. Don’t know if they are for real, but hey… Mutants begin the same as all the others. They have a family. Every one of those Destroyers has been a kid at some point. Playing around with other kids. I don’t think they are any more evil or tainted as the rest of the population. But that’s just my opinion. Feel free to disagree.”
She sat in stunned silence for a while. Mulling over her options. She had never done it. Never, ever in her life. Finally she braved herself.
“I’m a mutant.” There. Now she said it. She cringed when Logan took his foot from the gas and let the truck roll to a halt, before turning to look at her.
“I know. I could smell it on you when I carried you out from your dad’s forge.”
“You… No. I don’t know how I got out of there, but…” Marie stammered.
“I was a Destroyer. Our group stayed at your village that night. One of the guards sent me to get you out from there. I got so badly burned that I managed to slip off my collar before I carried you out. You got your scars from me. My bones are covered with metal. It got so hot that it burned you.”
“No.”
“And I bet I can tell exactly where, and what shape of scars you have.”
“No.”
“One on your side. A big one. Like a row of ribs. Couple on your back. Thin line across the whole back. That one you got from my arm. Another smaller on your lower back. Small, round. My kneecap when I kneeled to put you down.”
“No…”
“Handprints on your left shoulder and both arms. One on your stomach.”
“Stop talking!” Marie screamed and covered her ears with her palms.
“And you saw these.” Logan raised his right hand and let claws out. Small gasp escaped from her.
She hadn’t realized that the creature that had saved her was a Destroyer. Not before she had seen the backs of his hands, metal gleaming in the flickering light of the fire. At first she hadn’t comprehend what she was seeing, but later the image had returned to her mind. Under the bleeding mess of burnt and charred tissue had lain a set of knives.
“It was you…” She whispered. Logan nodded.
“But how… Why… You don’t look burnt?” Marie said, reaching with her gloved hand, placing it to the unmarred skin of his cheek.
“I heal. That’s my mutation. I heal and have enhanced senses. What’s yours?”
“Poison skin. People get hurt if they touch my bare skin,” she confessed.
“That’s why you didn’t want to make that deal?” Logan asked. She nodded.
“I think we should make a deal anyway… Not that kind of deal,” he hurriedly exclaimed when Marie’s gaze darkened.
“How about if we stick together? I have a feeling we would get along just fine. I have enough money to support us both, and I could use some company. Have been on my own since I escaped, and I’m sick and tired of it.”
“And my part of the deal?” Marie asked.
“Stay with me. Talk with me.”
“That’s all? In return of clothes, food and protection?” Marie asked, not believing her ears.
“That’s all. We have a deal?” Logan asked. She nodded quickly.
“Good.”
“Uh… About that food…” Marie said when her stomach reminded that it had been nearly twenty hours since she had last eaten. Logan opened his door.
“All the stuff is in the back. I’ll get you something,” he said.
“Wasn’t really planning to travel with anybody. This’ll have to do until we get to the next settlement…” Logan said, climbing back in and tossing a small packet of dried meat and a bottle of water to her lap. Sight of dry, nearly black strips of meat made Marie’s mouth water. Meat. She hadn’t eaten it for months. It was simply too expensive.
“Is this… Can I have all of this?” She asked, staring at the small plastic pouch, not daring to touch it.
“Eat it. It’s better than nothing,” Logan said. He didn’t have to tell it to her twice. She tore in to the package and was stuffing the leathery strips to her mouth like they were file fit for a king.
Logan felt a little bad about his earlier slip up, his stupid proposal of a different kind of deal. She was starving, and she would have probably given in, spread her legs to him for food. That wasn’t a way to form a lasting bond between them. And Logan wasn’t going to settle to anything less. Be it friendship or deeper relationship, he was going to keep her with him. He had been alone long enough.
Marie finished her meal and wiped her mouth to the back of her hand, slouching back on her seat. Her stomach had shrunk during her years on the road, and those few scraps she had eaten were enough to fill it completely. She closed her eyes.
“Thank you…” She managed to whisper before she dozed off.
She woke up few hours later. Truck wasn’t moving. Logan was sleeping, too, relaxed on his seat. It was dark. For some reason it was dark. Marie glanced at the clock on the dashboard. She could have sworn it was close to nightfall, but in reality it was barely past noon.
“Sandstorm. Should pass us soon. We’ll get going as soon as I can see the road again,” Logan murmured, shifting on his seat.
When weather cleared and they could see again, it became apparent that they were going absolutely nowhere. They were surrounded by a group of Hunters.
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