Episode 3.08 - Brothers in Arms

As the fragile truce between the transgenics and the city of Seattle begins to crumble, Max, Logan and Alec must all choose whether to run, or to remain in Terminal City and face their own deepest fears...

 

PROLOGUE

 

Alec's sleeping quarters, Terminal City – August 25, 6:00 AM

 

Terminal City was still and silent just before dawn. Only the guards, inside and outside the fence, were awake in the gray light.

 

On his bedroll, Alaec tossed restlessly, dreaming.

 

In the dream, it was daylight, but Terminal City was deserted. Alec crept through the sleeping quarters, past Logan's room. He glanced in the door and saw Max and Logan on the floor, in a tangle of sheets, making love. They did not hear or see him. Noiselessly, he slipped through an open doorway and out into the streets that led to the railroad yards.

 

Inside one of the old boxcars was a shiny black motorcycle, left behind by one of the protestors. He climbed on, turned the key, and rode down a ramp and out the back gate of Terminal City. No one saw him, no one tried to stop him. The streets of Seattle were damp and slick from an early-morning rain, and shrouded in fog. Then a familiar iron fence and an open gate emerged from the mist. The Berrisford estate.

 

Alec rode up the long driveway. Suddenly he was inside the house, once again unseen and unheard, as he moved through the music room, down the curved staircase, and to the pool. There, beside the clear blue water, was Rachel, in white. She held out her hand and he took it; together they jumped into the pool and surfaced, laughing. They made love by the water.

 

Then, abruptly, he was back outside the iron fence, but this time it surrounded Father Destry's church. He put his hand out to open the gate and Father Destry appeared. "I'm not Ben," Alec tried to shout, but his voice was barely a whisper.

 

The priest frowned. "I know who you are," he said. The church bells began to ring, and Father Destry turned away. The gate would not open.

 

The bike was somehow parked right there on the street. Alec jumped on it and hit the gas. Now the streets were crowded. He passed sector police, homeless families, hungry people waiting in food lines. Then he saw Normal, holding a birthday cake with lit candles. Normal was shouting something, but it didn't make any sense. Alec couldn't take his eyes off the candles and Normal's frantic face. Then he looked up.

 

Dead ahead of him, the street had become a road curving sharply out of the city into the woods. He was going far too fast to make the turn. There was nothing he could do but hang on as the trees rushed up to him, horribly fast. A white bird flew off a branch and while he watched it rise, the bike smashed into the tree...

 

Panting, bathed in sweat, Alec jerked awake. Light filtered through the grimy window above his head. Morning had come to Terminal City.

 

Seattle Police Headquarters – 9:00 AM

 

Commander Ramon Clemente sat in his office, concentrating on a TV monitor, playing the latest Eyes Only broadcast over and over again.

 

"...But can any of us be free if those who fight for us are treated like slaves? If we allow them to be enslaved, will we be far behind? Who will be next...our friends, our neighbors, ourselves? This has been a Streaming Freedom Video Bulletin via the Eyes Only informant net. Stay strong in the struggle. Peace. Out."

 

Clemente dropped the remote control on the desk, then stood up and opened the door of his office. Matt Sung was just arriving, takeout coffee in one hand and the morning newspaper in the other. MARINERS CLINCH! read the headline, but at the bottom of the front page was a small box with a grainy screen capture of Eyes Only and the caption, HE'S BA-ACK!

 

"Pretty interesting, isn't it, Detective?" Clemente asked. "Why has this guy decided to broadcast again? I think it's time we had a little talk with your friend, Mr. Cale. I want him in here to answer some questions."

 

Matt Sung didn't answer.

 

"Put out an APB. I want Cale in here this afternoon. Understood?"

 

"Yes, sir," Sung said faintly as Clemente returned to his office. As the door closed, Sung tossed the paper down on his desk in disgust.

 

ACT I

 

A street, Terminal City – 10:00 AM

Max walked past a line of abandoned warehouses. Seattle was known for its cloudy weather, but today the scowl on Max's face showed her skepticism that the sun would ever shine on Terminal City again. As she walked past one of the warehouses, she could hear shouting. Max paused, then entered the building.

 

The large room had no windows and would have been dark, but someone had managed to siphon electricity off the main grid. The warehouse was crowded with X-series in their late teens and early twenties, standing around a ring in which two male X-series were fighting.

 

In the corner, the bookmaker shouted, "Everybody, place your bets! Who's going to be the winner?"

 

Max narrowed her eyes. "Wonder if good old Monty Cora's got his hands in this?"

 

She walked over to the bookmaker, leaned against the table he was standing behind and asked, "How's it going?"

 

The man shrugged. "We're running out of beer, but otherwise..."

 

"Running out of beer? This a bar?"

 

"Nah, folks have been using it for bets. Ever heard the phrase 'your money's no good here'? If that ain't Terminal City, I don't know what is."

 

"You're gambling with beer ‘cause you don't have money?"

 

"That's what I just said, honey, but look, if you're not going to place a bet, move out of the way, okay? We're on a tight schedule here."

 

Max opened her mouth to respond, then decided it was better to not say anything. She stepped aside as a girl, probably X5, moved up to the table and said, "I want to bet on the Killer Chimera but I'm out of beer. Would you take this instead?"

 

She handed him a bag and the bookmaker took it and peeked in. He groaned a little but nodded. "Yeah, I'll take it."

 

Before he could hand her a receipt, Max took the bag and opened it.

 

"Vegetables?" she asked him, incredulous.

 

Turning to the line of people waiting to bet, she looked inside each of the bags they were carrying and shook her head.

 

"Now I have seen it all. You're not honestly doing this, are you?"

 

The bookmaker looked at her, surprised. "What are we not doing?"

 

Max threw the bag back at him and went over to the ring and climbed in. The Xs who had been fighting stopped and looked at her in confusion when she started to speak.

 

"Okay, that's it! Time to go home," she shouted at everyone as the crowd grew quiet. Nobody moved except an X5 Max hadn't noticed before. He was tall, well trained, as they all were, but not exactly handsome. Max watched him step into the ring.

 

"Says who?" he asked.

 

"Says me," Max shot back. "Let's behave like nice little soldiers and all go home, okay?"

 

"'Let's behave like nice little soldiers?' Who the hell are you?"

 

"Who the hell are you?" Max shot back.

 

"My name's Rocky. I'm in charge here. And I'm not a 'nice little soldier.'" He grabbed Max by the arm as if he were a bouncer getting ready to throw her out of a club.

 

"Oh yeah?" Instead of struggling, Max moved closer until she was an inch from his face. "Nice to meet you, Rocky. Maybe you've heard of me? I'm Max. And I'm..." She deftly flipped him off his feet and dropped him flat on his back in the ring. "...not a 'nice little soldier' either."

 

She turned to the group, who stood watching. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to get food into Terminal City? How many people are risking their lives to give us supplies like food and clothes? Even beer? And you're using it for gambling?"

 

One of the Xs who had been fighting asked, "What's wrong with a few harmless bets?"

 

"If you can't afford to lose what you're betting with, plenty."

 

Max stared around the room. Faces, some sullen, some angry and some just impassive, stared back. From the corner of her eye she saw Alec in the doorway, his eyebrows raised as if to ask, "Need a hand?" She shook her head slightly, then turned back to the room.

 

"This fight club is officially closed. If you're looking for thrills, try volunteering for a supply run."

 

Suddenly a well-known voice piped up from the entrance. "Forget about it," Mole told Max, stepping forward. "Nobody's gonna shut down the fight club. Not even you."

 

Everybody looked at the lizard-faced transgenic as he climbed into the ring. Even those who had already started to leave the warehouse stopped and turned around at the sound of his menacing voice.

 

Max stared at him in disbelief. "You're telling me that we should let them continue their fight club? No, Mole, no way in hell I'm gonna let them play stupid games with our supplies just to get a few cheap thrills."

 

"Let them have a little fun," Mole said, his cigar still in his mouth. The crowd started muttering their assent.

 

"No way. Not here, not now. Not with our food," Max shot back. "And since I'm in charge here, it's my decision. This fight club is closed. If you've got anything to add, Mole, you can do that later at Command," she said firmly and faced the crowd again. "Show's over. Everyone, get out."

 

Mole stared at her, while a few people started to leave the warehouse again. Max stared back, looking so angry that most of the participants hurried out without asking for their beer or food back.

 

When the bookmaker started to leave, she jumped out of the ring and grabbed him by his collar. "Take the beer to the Last Stop and the food to the mess hall. And don't let me catch you trying to set this up again."

 

A few moments later, she was alone, except for Alec. Her anger faded as she walked over to him.

 

"Sometimes I really hate this job," she told Alec tiredly, leaning back against the wall. "And this place is getting way too big. It's not that everyone has to bow when I enter a room, but that moron didn't even know who I was."

 

"Aw, c'mon Max, you know you love yelling at people," Alec replied, punching her arm lightly. She didn't respond, so he continued, "Hey, is that supply run for real, or were you just clearing the room? ‘Cause I've got a little time on my hands."

 

"It's for real, but..." Uncharacteristically, Max hesitated. "You've already done more than your share. I'll get someone else to do it." She pushed off from the wall and started to walk away.

 

"Oh, no, you don't. What aren't you telling me? Why don't you want me on this run?"

 

Max stopped and faced him. "It's a supply pickup from Father Destry."

 

"I'll do it," Alec said immediately, his tone nonchalant.

 

Max looked closely at him. "You sure? Logan said..."

 

Alec shrugged. "Hey, I've got nothing against the guy if he's got nothing against me."

 

"Okay," Max said hesitantly. "But be careful, okay? Things have been kind of ugly out there lately."

 

"I'll go incognito. How's that?"

 

"You really that desperate to get out of here?"

 

"Nah," Alec said casually. "Just doing whatever I can for the cause."

 

A manhole, Sector 5 – 11:00 AM

 

The bushes bordering the Gates Playground grew wild, as if they hadn‘t been trimmed since before the Pulse. The children playing on the lopsided metal slide and creaking old swing paid no attention to the ragged man who crawled out from under those bushes and made his way unsteadily down the street. He huddled over a battered metal garbage can, back turned to a passing sector patrol car.

 

"All clear," Alec said to himself, and moved back out into the street, doing his best to weave and shuffle as if he were still under the influence from the night before. Finally, when he was safely away from the manhole, he staggered into a shadowy alley to shed his filthy coat. Sighing with relief, he checked his watch.

 

"Way early. Good work, my man," he congratulated himself. Then, with an expression of businesslike concentration, he began to walk down the street, scanning every parked vehicle. After several blocks, his eyes lit up.

 

"Oh, baby, come to Papa," he said in satisfaction, his step quickening.

 

Another manhole, Sector 5 – 11:15 AM

 

Strips of yellow CAUTION tape and orange traffic cones marked off all but a narrow lane of Laurel Street, causing a minor traffic jam as car after car carefully negotiated past a parked backhoe, a large pile of sandy dirt and debris, and a yawning excavation. Seeing a man in heavy boots, a nondescript jacket, and a hardhat emerging from the pit in front of the backhoe, the irate driver of a bakery delivery truck rolled down his window to shout furiously, "When you guys gonna fix this friggin' street? How hard can it be to replace a coupla sewer pipes, huh?"

 

"We're working on it, sir," the man replied politely. The driver scowled and, hitting the gas, roared off. The worker disappeared behind the backhoe as the next driver began the obstacle course.

 

Logan waited on the far side of the backhoe for a moment, then removed the hardhat. Dropping it discreetly into the cab of the backhoe, he replaced it with a dark baseball cap, then hurried down the sidewalk past the line of waiting cars.

 

At the other end of the block, just as the bakery truck reached the corner, a sector patrol car pulled up, lights flashing. The truck driver looked at his watch, then gunned the motor and swerved around the patrol car as it attempted to block the intersection.

 

"Asshole," said the cop in the passenger seat, watching in the rearview mirror as the truck disappeared down the street.

 

"Ah, let it go," said the driver, stopping the car in the middle of the intersection. Immediately horns began to blow. "Got that picture? Let's go see if anyone recognizes – what's the guy's name? Cole?"

 

"Cale," said the other cop. "Logan Cale."

 

A street, Sector 5

 

In front of a run-down coffee shop, a motorcycle was parked, unattended and with the keys dangling from the ignition. "Take your time," Alec said to the coffee-shop window, addressing the soon-to-be former owner of the bike. As he strolled casually back towards the bike, he quickly glanced around. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in amazement as he found himself looking straight into Logan's face.

 

"Logan! Hey, buddy! What the hell are you doing here?"

 

"I could ask you the same thing," Logan replied, eyes narrowed.

 

"I'm out on a supply run for Max. You?"

 

Logan didn't respond to that. "Supply run to where?"

 

"The good Father Destry's church."

 

"Church is that way," Logan said, indicating north.

 

"Yeah, well," Alec began. "I'll get there. I've just got a little errand to run—"

 

Logan interrupted. "See you 'round, then. I've got an errand to run myself. And listen, I'd prefer it if you didn't mention – you know, to Max – that I was here."

 

"Oh." Alec stared at Logan, frankly curious, but Logan didn't meet his eyes. "What, you gonna surprise Max with something? Get her mind off the job for a while?"

 

"Something like that," said Logan, still avoiding his gaze.

 

"As long as I'm not gonna get involved in another lie. You know. Seeing as how the last one got me in all kinds of trouble."

 

"This isn't like that," Logan said shortly. "Thanks. Later." He turned away.

 

"Yeah. Later." Mystified, Alec shrugged and moved back towards the bike, but it was too late. The coffee shop door banged open and a very attractive young woman in leather pants and jacket strode out, helmet in hand. She gave Alec a hard look and he stepped back. "Nice bike," he said in a friendly tone, but she roared off without a word.

 

Then he saw Logan, about a half-block away, turn suddenly and enter a building. On impulse Alec darted across the street. The door Logan had entered was marked only with scratched, faded gold numbers, but inside, a building directory was clearly labeled. "Metro Medical Professional Offices," it read, followed by a list of doctors and office numbers. Alec looked around.

 

"A hospital? That is not good," he said under his breath.

 

North Perimeter, Terminal City

 

Max headed toward the front gate. It was quiet in the Command Center, and her experience from the night before was still on her mind. It bothered her that she didn't know everyone in Terminal City any more, but the census had crept up to over 700 since the siege began.

 

Two guards, one human-looking, the other reptilian, stood on duty in the building closest to the gate, invisible to the National Guard and police.

 

"Hey, everything all right, Lou?" Max asked the guards.

 

They nodded.

 

"Yeah, quiet day out there so far," Lou, the human-looking guard, replied.

 

"You're Max, right?" the other guard asked while Lou kept an eye on the soldiers at the gate.

 

"Yeah," she nodded. "Sorry, I don't know your name. We've got so many new arrivals here. Guess I need to get out more."

 

"I'm Croc," he said, smiling.

 

Max smiled too. "Croc, huh?"

 

"Got a little too much crocodile in my cocktail," he laughed. "But don't worry; I don't bite."

 

"Me either. Well, most of the time, anyway," Max assured him.

 

"Sounds like all the excitement's been inside the fence today. Rumor is, someone shut down the fight club."

 

Max sighed. "Yeah, someone shut down that stupid fight club. Did you..." she started, but was interrupted.

 

Croc shook his head. "Not my thing. I let the X-series do what they want, as long as they don't hurt anyone else. But I also heard from the munitions guys that some weapons from the supply depot are missing."

 

"Dammit," Max said. "What's gone?"

 

"A couple of rifles and some shotguns, as far as I know," he replied.

 

"We use our food for gambling and steal our own weapons," Max sighed. "I don't understand what's happening here lately...Now, when things are even worse on the outside, we're trying to destroy ourselves from within."

 

Croc shrugged.

 

"Thanks for letting me know," Max replied, her voice tired. She shook his hand and then turned to head back to the Command Center.

 

Sam Carr's Office, Metro Medical – 1 PM

 

Logan sat on the examination table, waiting for Sam Carr to return with his test results. Sitting in this office, on this table, left him with a sense of deja vu.

 

"Logan, spinal nerve damage does not just heal itself...not ever."

 

"I'm telling you, this isn't something I'm imagining."

 

It had been nearly eighteen months before that he had sat here, waiting expectantly, the first twinges of movement and sensation returning after the shooting. Now the feeling was completely different, and it left him unsettled.

 

"Well, this is your second go-around with transfusions of transgenic blood. We both know what happened the first time. Nerve cell regeneration didn't last, and you lost mobility again."

 

"This is different. Last time nothing happened for weeks after the transfusion. This time it was almost instantaneous."

 

"Maybe you're right; maybe this time it'll stick. Bottom line is...only time will tell."

 

"Hey, Logan, sorry to keep you waiting, but I wanted to have a radiologist take a look at these scans before I went over them with you," the doctor said as he walked into the room.

 

Logan smiled. "No problem. I appreciate you squeezing me into your schedule. It's kinda hard to predict when I can get in and out of Terminal City."

 

Sam nodded and crossed to the light box. He flipped on the light and slid the sheet of CT scan results under the clip.

 

"So, any clue what's causing this pain? Did you find evidence of the virus returning?" Logan asked.

 

Sam stared at the scans for a moment and then turned to Logan, his face creased with concern.

 

"I wish I had better news, Logan."

 

Logan's head slipped into his hands. After a moment, he looked back up at the neurologist.

 

"So the virus is back."

 

Sam pulled over a stool and sat down, facing Logan. "It doesn't appear to be the virus, actually. Your blood work is all quite good. I can see evidence of the antibodies, but no active virus. But both the CT scan and the blood work showed something else. There are other antibodies at work."

 

"And they're doing what?"

 

"It's what happened before. You have more immunity this time, but without intervention, those antibodies are going to slowly rob you of your ability to walk." The doctor got up and crossed back to the light box.

 

"You can see here and here," he pointed to the scan. "There's evidence of damage to the cord, where it healed after Joshua's transfusion. I'm quite certain that is what's causing your pain and weakness."

 

"But it's different this time," Logan interjected.

 

"It is. It's not an outright rejection of the cells like you had with Max's, but your body is developing antibodies that are fighting the cells you received from Joshua."

 

"So, what do we do?" Logan asked, quietly. "I tried about a year ago to find that doctor, the one that Vertes talked about being in Japan, but I didn't have any luck."

 

"Well, there's a doctor in New Mexico who is doing very good work with gene therapy. We went to med school together. I called her this morning and she said she could try her treatment, but I have to be honest, Logan. It's going to take a lot of time and there's no guarantee that it will work."

 

Logan sat silent for a moment. "New Mexico. You can't do it here?"

 

"There's really no way to do that, Logan. You'd have to go to her. She's working with one of the two remaining stem cell lines and there's no way to transport that sort of material with things the way they are now."

 

"How long are we talking about?"

 

Sam looked down at his hands, finally raising his eyes to meet Logan's. "Can't say for sure, but I would count on at least six months, probably longer."

 

"I couldn't bear to lose anyone else," Max whispered into Logan's shoulder.

 

"I'm not going anywhere..." he reassured her.

 

Logan sighed. "Six months is like a lifetime right now. With the situation in Terminal City...Max...neither one of us knows what's going to happen there from one day to the next..."

 

"At least think about it, Logan," Sam replied, reaching out to touch Logan's shoulder.

 

"Yeah...I'll think about it."

 

"I'm sorry. I wish I had better news for you."

 

Logan nodded, unable to answer, unable to meet Sam's eyes.

 

"Is there anything else I can do? Let me at least get you something for the pain. It's going to get worse before it gets better."

 

Logan nodded, looking up at the doctor. "At least the pain I can feel," he replied, his voice filled with irony.

 

"Is there anything else?" Sam asked, reaching into his drawer for his prescription pad.

 

Logan pushed off the table with his hands, continuing to hold on to the table for support as he stood. "It's going to get harder...without the exo, that is, to get around, isn't it?"

 

Sam nodded. "Do you still have your cane, from last time?"

 

Logan shook his head. "Left all that stuff behind – the cane, my chair. Thought I was done with it."

 

Sam stood as well, reaching his right hand to touch Logan's left arm. "Just give me a minute and I'll get one for you."

 

Logan waited while Sam searched the supply closet down the hall. After a moment, his left leg began to tremble and he moved over to sit on the stool the doctor had vacated.

 

"Here, this should help," Sam said, returning with the cane and a small bag of prescription samples. "The samples should get you started – and I also wrote out a prescription in case you need more."

 

Logan greeted the cane with a look of disgust. "I thought these days were over."

 

"I know, Logan. So, you'll think about it? Call me this week?"

 

"Yeah," Logan answered. He moved over to where the exoskeleton waited. "Just give me a minute. I need to get this on."

 

"Sure thing," Sam responded, watching carefully as Logan slid his feet back into the bulky shoes he wore with the exoskeleton.

 

"Thanks," Logan said as he finished getting dressed.

 

The doctor watched as Logan walked out of the office. He waited until the young man had gotten down the hall and then returned to his computer, hoping to find a different answer in the test results on the screen.

 

Outside Dr. Carr's office

 

Logan walked out of the hospital, pulling his cap down low to cover as much of his face as possible.

 

"Hey, I wondered where you snuck off to."

 

Logan looked up as Alec appeared in front of him. "Alec...what are you doing here? I thought you were going to the church."

 

Alec smiled. "The Father was busy. I said we'd come back later."

 

"So, you just happened to be wandering past Metro Medical? You should be fifteen blocks in the other direction..."

 

"I get around."

 

"Yeah, right. You followed me," Logan replied and turned to walk away. His left foot missed the curb and Logan began to stumble. Alec moved to grab his left elbow and steady him. Logan pushed Alec's hand away as he righted himself.

 

"Looks like I'm not the only one with secrets around here," Alec answered, stepping back from Logan. "What's up with the cane? Why don't you want Max to know you came out today?"

 

Logan moved over to a bench outside the entrance. He sat down, dropping the cane, at his feet.

 

"Leave Max out of this," Logan said, his voice low and even.

 

Alec walked over and stood in front of the bench. "I've been in the middle of one of your secrets before and I'd prefer not to relive the experience, if it's all the same to you?"

 

"It's nothing," Logan replied.

 

"Well, it's pretty clear that's not the truth," Alec answered as he stood in front of Logan, his arms crossed, closely examining Logan's legs.

 

"I've been feeling off for a while...pain, a little bit of weakness. It started happening about the time of the virus cure...little things here and there. I figured it would go away as I got stronger."

 

"And?"

 

"And it's getting worse. So, I had Aveta take some blood last week and sent it out to my neurologist, Sam Carr. He was able to take a CT scan this morning to get a better idea of what's going on."

 

"So it's the virus, huh," Alec responded.

 

"Nope. Funny thing is, virus is gone...but so, it seems, is my miracle cure. Unless the doctors can find another one, sooner or later, I'm going to be right back where I started."

 

Alec stared at him, unsure of what to say. "Back where?"

 

"Well, let's just say that I hope the cops didn't cancel my handicapped parking tag when they decided to put me on their most-wanted list."

 

Without waiting for a response from Alec, Logan stood up and began walking down the street.

 

ACT II

 

A street

 

Alec stood frozen for a few seconds, then pulled himself together and caught up to Logan. "Whoa there! You wanna explain that a little more?" he asked, hurrying to keep up as Logan strode quickly down the sidewalk.

 

"Not much to explain. My immune system's attacking Joshua's stem cells—" Logan stopped speaking briefly as they skirted a slow-moving young couple, arms wrapped around each other, "—and unless I do something to stop it, I'll be back on wheels before the end of the year." He didn't look at Alec, just kept on walking.

 

"But you're gonna do something?" When Logan didn't answer, Alec answered his own question. "What am I saying? Of course you're gonna do something. I mean, with a hot chick like Max in your life—" He stopped as Logan shot him a warning look from under the brim of the cap. "Okay, none of my business. But this isn't such a big deal, right? They can fix it?"

 

"Maybe," Logan said. He glanced over at Alec again. "You going to the church now?"

 

"Well, I'm heading that way—" Alec tried to keep the reluctance out of his voice.

 

Logan gave him a sharp look anyway. "Tell you what. I'll walk you there."

 

"You don't have—"

 

"Let's go."

 

They walked to the church in silence. Alec shuddered at the sight of the iron fence that had appeared in his dream just a few hours before. Logan pushed the gate open and they went up to the side door of the rectory.

 

At his knock a nun answered. "Sorry, the food pantry isn't open on Thursdays," she said loudly but kindly.

 

"Is Father Destry all right?" asked Logan in an undertone.

 

The nun allowed herself to glance around, then said, "Yes, but today's not a good day for a pickup. Too many police around this morning." She raised her voice. "Come back tomorrow. You'll see the line." She began to close the door.

 

"Sorry, ma'am," Alec said politely. "Thank you." The two men left the churchyard, surreptitiously scanning the street.

 

"Guess we head back to Terminal City now," Logan said, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened that afternoon.

 

"I guess," Alec agreed reluctantly, trying to keep out of his voice the dread he felt at the thought of returning.

 

They swung around the corner. To their dismay, a police cruiser was parked at the end of the street, next to a police barrier that was obviously intended as a roadblock. Alec scanned the street, then locked in on a welcome sight: a Budweiser sign. "In here, buddy," he directed, grabbing Logan's arm and pushing him through the door into the gloom of a run-down bar. The bartender gave them an indifferent look before turning his attention back to the wall-mounted television.

 

"Crash, it isn't," Alec observed, looking around at the patrons, mostly older men in worn flannel shirts.

 

"That may not be such a bad thing," Logan replied as they slid into a booth. "Unfortunately, I'm flat broke. Doesn't look to me like the barkeep will let us sit here without ordering."

 

"No worries," replied Alec jauntily, pulling a wad of cash out of his pocket. When Logan raised his eyebrows in surprise, Alec grinned. "Last of my winnings. I bet against you in the basketball game." He went to the bar and ordered two beers.

 

Last Stop Bar, Terminal City

 

Max stepped into the Last Stop Bar, breathing in deeply as she tried to shrug off the stress of her day. Somehow, in the middle of all that was happening, the bar seemed like the one place she could feel comfortable. It could have been like any bar in town, if some of the patrons didn't look so...well...strange.

 

"Can I get a beer, please?" Max asked the bartender, leaning over the bar as she pulled up a stool. The bartender nodded and handed her a bottle. Max took it to a free table and sat down.

 

"You need to think, or you up for company?"

 

Max looked up to find Ginger standing next to the table. "Sure, sit down."

 

Ginger pulled out the other chair and sat down. She signaled to the bartender for a beer. "Hard day?"

 

Max nodded.

 

"Hey, I appreciate you shutting down that fight club. I couldn't figure out where all of my carrots and cans of beans were going."

 

"You're welcome, but please, let's talk about something else."

 

"Where's Logan? I haven't seen him all day."

 

"I don't know where he is...thought I might find him here. He wasn't at the Command Center."

 

Ginger nodded. "I'm sure he's around here somewhere...maybe he's off cooking up one of those delicacies of his. I did notice a couple of bottles of spices had liberated themselves from my cupboard."

 

"So, you hear from Original Cindy lately?" Max asked, trying to shift the conversation.

 

"Yeah, last night. We're trying to work something out this week. Thanks for clearing it for her to come in now and then. I'm actually thinking I might..."

 

"Max! Max!" A boy, maybe an X8, interrupted Ginger as he came in shouting.

 

Max sighed, stood up and gestured for him to come closer. "What's up?"

 

"You're Max?"

 

"Up close and personal."

 

"Croc sent me. You have to come with me," the boy explained, his breathing heavy from running.

 

"What happened?" Ginger stood up and asked.

 

Max turned to her. "Sorry, I gotta bounce. Catch you later?"

 

"Later, Max."

 

A bar, Sector 5 – 5:00 PM

 

Alec looked out the front window of the bar, and then signaled the bartender for two more beers. While the bartender's back was turned, Alec shook his head at Logan. Putting some bills on the damp bar, he picked up the two bottles and slid back into the booth. Logan pushed his aside. His first beer was still more than half full.

 

"Still there? It's been an hour," he said impatiently, drumming his fingers on the side of his first bottle as he stared out the window.

 

"Look, what are you gonna do? It's not the worst place to have to lay low for a while. For once we've got all the beer we want – and a working toilet, too. Not so bad, huh?" Alec asked.

 

"Knock yourself out," Logan told him irritably.

 

Alec rolled his eyes in exasperation. "If we're stuck here all afternoon, you're not gonna be Mr. Type A Personality the whole time, are you? Oooh, gotta hurry back to the office and fake a few more Canadian ID cards..."

 

"No," said Logan very quietly, rocking the beer bottle back and forth on the table. "But I've got a lot on my mind...and this isn't exactly where I'd choose to sit and work it out."

 

Alec put his hands up in the air. "Okay, my fault. Forgot about your situation there for a second." He took a long drink of beer. "So, this ordinary doctor really knows about Manticore transfusions and all that top-secret scientific stuff?"

 

"Yes, he does," Logan said bitterly. "This cure, from Joshua...it wasn't the first time."

 

"I thought there was something weird about all this," Alec responded. "You know, it's sort of a medical miracle, and you and Max barely mention it. What happened the first time?"

 

"I had a transfusion of Max's blood...after surgery," Logan took a sip of his beer. "Long story. Anyway, the same damned thing happened that time, too. My immune system kicked in, and before I knew it I couldn't even stand up at my own kitchen counter. First it's hard to walk, then you can't stand, then everything stops working." Logan leaned back against the booth, closing his eyes as if he were exhausted.

 

Alec frowned, confused. "You're losing me here, buddy. You said they could fix you up."

 

Logan opened his eyes. "If you don't mind, I'd much rather talk about what exactly you were doing this afternoon instead of picking up supplies." He folded his arms and stared steadily at Alec.

 

Alec opened his mouth as if to object, then stopped. He slid the beer bottle back and forth on the table for a few moments, his expression struggling between reluctance and eagerness.

 

"I'm thinking about getting out of Terminal City for good," he said finally.

 

Logan sat up, suddenly alert. "And going where, exactly?"

 

Alec shrugged. "Who knows? Anywhere." He smiled bitterly. "It's not like I've got anyone counting on me to stick around."

 

"It's dangerous out there," Logan said quietly, nodding in the direction of the front door. "You could end up dead."

 

Alec shrugged again. "So? The world might actually be a better place. No more psycho twin brother. No more killer viruses. No more assassination missions."

 

"Or even worse, in military prison," Logan went on.

 

"I don't have to let them take me alive," Alec said flippantly, then added at Logan's frown, "Okay, okay, bad joke."

 

Logan picked up his beer and took another drink. "But you have a plan, right? Somewhere to go?"

 

"A plan? Nah. I'll make it up as I go," Alec responded. "But could you do something for me?"

 

"What?"

 

"Tell Max that I'll, you know, miss her, but it's just not working out for me. Not that she'll be surprised. Irresponsible brother Alec, and all that."

 

Logan watched thoughtfully as Alec finished his beer.

 

"I'm going to take advantage of the facilities. I miss a good public restroom..." Alec said as he stood up and headed for the back of the bar.

 

Logan sat for a moment, then followed him.

 

The bathroom was empty. So was the back hallway. Alec was nowhere to be seen. Logan went to the exit door at the end of the hall, paused for a moment, and then pushed it open. Alec was squatting next to the building, back against the wall, looking through his open backpack.

 

Logan looked down the light from the street lamp gleaming off a small pistol lying next to Alec's bag. He ran his hand over his face and took a deep breath.

 

"You weren't going to...you weren't serious back there, talking about things being better if you weren't around any more, were you?" Logan asked.

 

"No, course not... it's for, you know, what might come up out there," he replied defensively.

 

"Thought you were making this up as you went along," Logan finally said.

 

Alec looked away. "Yeah...something like that," he said.

 

After a long moment, Logan cleared his throat and began to speak. "After I found out my first transfusion was failing, I decided I wasn't going to spend the rest of my life trapped in half a body," he told Alec calmly, almost casually. "So, one afternoon when I knew I'd be alone, I got out my gun."

 

Startled, Alec looked up, his attention now focused on Logan.

 

"But before I got around to it, Max showed up, terrified. She'd seen an ambulance in front of my building. It was there for a neighbor, but she didn't know that. I put the gun away."

 

He looked over at Alec. "I used to think about that gun sometimes, when I believed Max was dead. But something about the look on her face that day...it stopped me every time." Logan's eyes twinkled.

 

There was a long pause. Suddenly, Alec sighed deeply. "Must have been one hell of a surprise when she came back that night," he said.

 

"Yeah, and I could have missed it. You don't know how things are going to turn out, Alec. You never know."

 

Alec saw it again, the way he had in the dream, the Berrisford swimming pool. And this time, right after it, he saw the cemetery, gray, cold and windy on that fall afternoon.

 

Abruptly, Alec picked up the gun, stuffed it in the backpack, and walked toward the front of the building. Logan watched him. Alec peered around the corner, drew back, and shook his head.

 

"They're still out there. Must be waiting for someone."

 

"You could slip by them," Logan said calmly. "Leave the backpack here, take off the jacket. 'Even a small change in appearance creates significant confusion,' remember?"

 

Alec shrugged. "Later. I feel like another beer right now. You up for it?"

 

"Yeah," Logan said. "Yeah, sure." He held the door open for Alec and they went back inside.

 

Streets, Terminal City

 

The boy grabbed Max's hand and pulled her out of the bar. Outside, he started running again, pulling her along behind him. A moment later, they reached one of the entrances to the sewers.

 

Croc, who had already arrived, turned around and stepped toward them. "Hey, Max! You told me I should call you if we found something unusual."

 

"What's going on?" Max asked, taking a step closer.

 

He stepped back, exposing a group of X6s, sitting with their backs against the wall. A couple of guards were standing around them, their weapons pointing at the X6s.

 

Croc explained, "They were trying to leave through the sewers. They had weapons with them, same kind that were stolen from the supply depot." He showed her the rifles the guards had taken from the teenagers.

 

"Good catch," Max thanked Croc, then turned to the X6s.

 

"So, what's the deal?" she asked, her voice casual and non-threatening. "Where were you headed?"

 

One of them looked at her as if she'd asked something really stupid.

 

"Out of here, that's for sure," he answered, earning an elbow-jab from his neighbor.

 

"You wanna get yourself lynched out there, that's your problem. But where'd you get the idea it was okay to steal our weapons?" Max continued asking.

 

"Isn't it about time we stood up for ourselves, fought back against the ordinaries? We sit here and wait for them to come get us and we're dead," the blonde-haired boy on the end stated.

 

Max shook her head. "You don't think I want to do that? That I don't want to go out and make them accept us? I do...but this isn't the way to do it. What exactly did you plan to do? Six of you and a few guns – that's not going to cut it."

 

All six of them stared back at her without any sign of fear or embarrassment. From the corner of her eye, she realized that somebody had stepped closer and had been following the exchange. When she turned around, she saw Mole standing behind her.

 

Ignoring him, she continued. "What is it with you?" she asked. "Did you ever think about what you were trying to do? Stealing weapons? Inciting more anti-transgenic demonstrations? You threaten this whole community with a stupid move like that. You want to get us all killed?" The tone of her voice had changed from friendly, albeit mildly annoyed, to very angry.

 

"Max, give it a rest," Mole interrupted.

 

"I'm handling this," Max hissed at the lizard.

 

"No, you're not, Max. I agree with them. It's time to take some action. Sitting around here isn't getting us anywhere. We should be listening to people like this, not locking them up for having a good tactical idea."

 

Max voice was low but ferocious when she hissed, "You know what, Mole? Since you know everything better than me, maybe you should be in charge. For all I care, you can re-open the fight club, send off those kids with a pat on the head, start a civil war...I'm outta here. "

 

She turned away and headed out. Soon her slim frame disappeared in the darkness.

 

Croc, who had been watching the scene, watched in disbelief as she left.

 

"Good move, my friend," he said to Mole.

 

Mole just stared at him, puffed on his cigar, and then turned to the X6s. "Get out of here...I'll deal with you in the morning."

 

The group got up and turned to leave. Mole took a couple steps forward and grabbed the arm of the leader.

 

"Not so fast. Guns stay here." He collected the munitions and then watched as the renegades disappeared into the night.

 

The bar, Seattle – 8:00 PM

 

The workday had ended and the bar was full now, noisy and crowded. Logan and Alec were still in the booth, and there were quite a few empty bottles on the table.

 

"So you, like, own the place? Paid for and all?" Alec was saying when the front door of the bar slammed open and four sector cops walked in. The bartender hit the mute button on the TV. People near the front of the bar stopped talking.

 

"Uh-oh," said Alec, who sat facing the door.

 

"What?" asked Logan, starting to turn.

 

"Don't! Sector cops. Four of 'em. Keep your face this way."

 

"This is an ID check," announced one of the cops. "Everyone stay right where you are. This will only take a few minutes."

 

"Don't suppose you've got one of those fake IDs on you, do you?" Alec asked.

 

"As a matter of fact, I do," said Logan. "How's your barcode?"

 

"Covered with makeup. Lasers are hard to come by in you-know-where," Alec answered.

 

"What are they doing now?" Logan asked.

 

"Getting closer," Alec replied. Under the table, he reached for his backpack. Now the cops were at the booth directly in front of them. Slowly Alec slid his hand inside the backpack.

 

"Hey!" someone shouted, and there was a loud crash as a table overturned, followed by the sound of shattering glass.

 

A young man in an oversized jacket was making a run for the front door. Three of the cops at the next booth sprinted after him. One tackled the man just as he pulled the front door open. They spilled out onto the sidewalk, followed by the other cop, her gun drawn. "Freeze!" she shouted.

 

"Now," said Alec. "Real slow. Out the back." As the other patrons crowded around the door, Alec and Logan quietly slipped down the back hallway, past the restrooms and out into the alley. Alec carefully edged up to the street in time to see the cops pull several small bags of white powder from the man's jacket.

 

"Drug dealer," he told Logan quietly as the cops put the man in their patrol car and drove to the end of the block, where the barricade was still in place.

 

"Lucky for us," Logan said.

 

"Yeah. What do you say we call it a night? It's getting dark. We'll just head in the other direction."

 

Near the end of the block, Logan stumbled and nearly lost his balance. "Hey, man, you all right?" Alec asked anxiously.

 

"Maybe not," Logan said gravely.

 

"Are you—" Alec began, alarmed.

 

"Alec, I think I'm drunk."

 

Alec looked relieved. "Time to get you back to Terminal City. I'll just drop you off at the sewer entrance and—"

 

"Wait." Logan stopped as they reached the intersection, pushing his glasses up on his nose. "If I'm not mistaken, this street goes straight into Sector 9, which means it should go right by my old place. Come on." He began to walk.

 

"No way."

 

"White's not around any more and I can take this opportunity to check on my stuff."

 

"What stuff?"

 

"You'll see when we get there."

 

"How are we going to get through the sector checkpoint?"

 

Logan put his hand on Alec's shoulder, wobbling a bit. "Aren't you the undercover missions expert? Figure something out."

 

"I'm agreeing to this. Why am I agreeing to this? I'm not drunk. Or at least not enough to forget that Max will kick my ass if you don't get back to Terminal City in one piece," Alec muttered as he followed Logan.

 

The bar, Seattle – 8:45 PM

 

The bar had just quieted down when the four sector cops returned, two with guns drawn.

 

"Thought we forgot about ya, huh? ID check. Whip 'em out," announced a female cop, as two other cops began to check identification. "Pull your collar down and let the officers see the back of your neck," she added.

 

Her partner approached the bar, a photograph in his hand.

 

The bartender looked up in alarm. "Hey, I didn't know nothing about Denny having that stuff in here—" he began, but the cop cut him off.

 

"Seen this guy?"

 

"Hell, yeah," replied the bartender, eager to cooperate. "He's right over there." He pointed at the booth where Logan and Alec had been sitting. Three women now occupied the booth.

 

"Well, he was," insisted the bartender. "He was here when you came in—"

 

The cop reached for his radio.

 

Logan's penthouse, Sector 9 – 10:00 PM

 

Logan and Alec stepped out of the elevator and headed for the door to the penthouse. Logan stood there for a moment, then reached into his pocket and pulled out the key.

 

"Looks clear to me," Alec said, his eyes scanning up and down the hallway. He stepped aside as Logan fumbled with the lock. "Anytime now, buddy. You gonna make it?" Alec asked, as Logan slumped against the wall. "I told you we should have saved the Pinot for Max, instead of drinking it."

 

Logan smiled. "I'll get her more, tomorrow, and besides, if we didn't drink it, we wouldn't have had anything to do while we waited for the sector cop to take a leak. Besides, Max never really appreciates the Pinot like we do...Pinot is our friend," he slurred.

 

Logan pushed the door open and then stepped into the dark apartment. Moonlight cast a glow over the living room as he walked in a few steps, then stopped.

 

"Man, they messed this place up," Alec said, looking around the room. "Or is this your new style of decorating?" he snickered.

 

Logan stared at the destroyed couch, the tossed bookshelves. "Careful. I might send them to your place next."

 

Alec snorted. "My place already looks like this."

 

"Okay, I'll hit the computers, you look for the chair. It should be in there," Logan said, waving his arm toward the back of the apartment.

 

As Logan moved toward the computer room to take a closer look, Alec headed into the exercise room to search for the chair Logan had admitted he would soon need.

 

"Damn...did they have to break the Playstation, too?" Logan called out. "That was a collector's item!" Not hearing an answer, he crawled under the desk in search of the Parker pen his aunt and uncle had given him for graduation.

 

"Not a bad ride at all," Alec said, wheeling Logan's chair into the computer room. He tipped back, popping a wheelie.

 

Logan sat up, hitting his head on the underside of the desk. "Whoops!"

 

Alec continued to maneuver the chair around the room, popping a wheelie every couple of feet.

 

"Showoff," Logan commented, as he crawled out from underneath the desk, rubbing his head.

 

"What, you never put on a few moves for the ladies at Crash?" Alec pulled his hands off the wheels, dropping forward again

 

"Not on wheels," Logan retorted, then sighed. "It's not really my thing."

 

"Have you tried it?" Alec asked as he stood up. He held his hand out, inviting Logan to sit in the chair.

 

Logan looked at the black metal contraption for a moment, then slowly sat down. He pressed his hands down on the wheels, lifting himself back further in the chair. He rolled the wheels back, while leaning backward. He began to tip too far and quickly leaned forward until the front wheels landed back on the floor.

 

"Damn it!" Logan exclaimed, laughing.

 

Alec laughed. "Nice try, but you'll get better with practice, buddy."

 

Logan stopped laughing. "Yeah, lots of time to practice."

 

"Sorry, man, I was just joking...I mean, there won't be any need to practice...will there?" Alec asked, suddenly serious. "You're gonna get this fixed, right?"

 

A patrol car, Sector 9

 

The cop was dozing, eyes half closed, when the radio crackled to life.

 

"Car 18, Car 18, we have a report of suspicious activity at Fogle Towers. Repeat, Fogle Towers. Resident of the 26th floor reports disturbance in an empty apartment."

 

"Right. I'll check it out." The cop sleepily started the car.

 

Logan's penthouse, Sector 9

 

Logan looked up from the wheelchair. "No. I don't think so."

 

Alec pulled over the computer chair and sat down, facing Logan. "What's that supposed to mean?"

 

"Unfortunately, the only doctor who might be able to help is out of state."

 

"Where?" Alec asked.

 

"New Mexico." Logan rolled the chair back and forth slightly. "And, considering that my girlfriend is on the military's Ten Most Wanted List – and probably has no constitutional rights either – it's not like I can take her with me."

 

"What about another transfusion?"

 

Logan shook his head. "Even if it works, what does that make me? Some kind of junkie, living off transgenic blood, like those kids we met last spring? Besides, the recovery would get shorter and less effective every time. I'd rather just have it happen and deal with it."

 

"Well, how long would you have to be in New Mexico? Couple of weeks? Max would miss you, but—"

 

"No." Logan cut him off, his voice quiet but fierce. "I'd have to be gone six months, minimum. I won't leave Max like that, not with the danger she's in—"

 

"Max can look out for herself."

 

"I don't want to look out for her. I want to stay with her."

 

"Yeah, well, you know Max is gonna make you go."

 

"She can't make me do anything. Especially if she doesn't know there's any reason to make me."

 

"You're not going to tell her?"

 

"Not right away." Logan looked steadily at Alec. "I won't leave her. So, it's better if she doesn't think I might have a reason to leave her."

 

"Yeah, but..." Alec began, stopping as a powerful flashlight beam hit him right in the face.

 

Asha and three S1W members stood in the doorway.

 

"What the hell are you doing here? I could hear you the last three floors as we were coming up," she hissed as she pushed the apartment door closed.

 

"We just came to..." Alec began.

 

"Clemente wants Logan's ass. He's got the whole city looking for him. Don't you monitor the police band in Terminal City?" Asha asked, her voice growing louder. "Coming back to this apartment is the dumbest thing you could have done."

 

She swung the flashlight beam around, then stopped as she saw Logan in the wheelchair.

 

"Why did you come here?" she asked, suspicious.

 

"We just...we were out late, thought we'd crash," Alec answered, as Logan scrambled out of the chair.

 

"Thought they might have missed a couple of bottles of Pinot I had in the closet," Logan answered, pushing the wheelchair back toward the wall. "Plus, I was running out of boxer shorts."

 

"Pull the car into the garage," Asha ordered the young blonde man standing near the wall. He turned to head out the door. "We need to get you two to the safe house before anyone else notices you're here."

 

"Hey, we do need to get a few things," Alec interrupted, nodding toward the chair as Asha turned to leave.

 

Logan shook his head slightly. "Not to worry. We still have some time," he muttered softly.

 

Chastened, the two men followed Asha out the door.

 

As the S1W van left the parking garage, the police car pulled in.

 

Outside of the living quarters, Terminal City – 11:00 PM

 

Max sat on the steps, staring into the night. Terminal City was finally dark, quiet at the end of the day.

 

"Max, you okay?"

 

Max looked up to find Ginger standing beside her.