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Part 17
My first impression of Terminal City is that it doesn’t really look very different compared to the rest of Seattle. The same run-down buildings, the same junk yard flair...the only thing that stands out is that there isn’t a single person on the…streets...if you can actually call them that.
We drive through TC, as M usually calls it, for a few minutes before stopping in front of a building that looks as much in danger of collapsing as any other building here.
“Our headquarters are in there,” Alec explains to me. “The heart of our little freak show where all operations, scams and plans for taking over the world are prepared.” He’s actually smirking.
God, is everything a joke to that guy?
I roll my eyes. “You should really cut back on your TV time, you’re starting to sound like Pinky,” I tell him, referring to one of the few cartoons that survived the pulse. Don’t ask me how that happened.
“Hey!” he protests. “If anything, I sound like Brain,” he mutters.
Wow. He’s actually coming dangerously close to sulking.
I have to bite back a chuckle. “Whatever.”
Once inside we walk down a short hallway and end up in what must be the control center or something. There are a few transgenics scattered around absorbed in various tasks. Some look normal, most…don’t.
There are a few screens used to keep track of various entrances and what I assume to be key spots within TC. There must be security cameras all over the place. It surprises me somehow. I didn’t really expect them to be so well organized. But now that I think of it…they’re like, elite soldiers or something. So duh.
There are two transgenics manning the controls. One of them looks like a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle gone terribly wrong, the other one somehow reminds me of a cross between a yeti and a snowman.
Turtle-guy sees us first. He gets up, grabbing a gun that’s much too big for my liking. I stiffen. Somehow, ever since I got shot, I’m not very keen on having guns around me. No idea why, just another one of my strange little quirks.
Turtle guy scowls at us. “Who’s she?” he asks, not exactly sounding friendly.
“Mole, Liz, Liz Mole,” Alec says, introducing us in that uniquely polite manner of his.
“She a transgenic?” Mole asks suspiciously.
“Nope,” Alec replies.
“She’s an ordinary?!” he exclaims, sounding almost exasperated if not disgusted.
Alec cocks his head. “What a coincidence that you ask. That’s a really interesting question. Want to answer it, Liz?” He’s smiling at me pleasantly, but he’s not fooling anyone, least of all me.
“Bite me,” I suggest.
Alec raises his brows. “Again?” he asks. “It’s only been-” he glances at his watch, but Mole starts talking before he can continue…and before heat can shoot into my cheeks. Thank God.
“She’s not a transgenic, she’s got no business being here,” Mole states, sounding more than just annoyed. He sounds downright mad. “When will you finally understand that and stop dragging humans here?”
Okay, now I’m starting to take offence in this whole thing. There’s nothing wrong with being human.
“Hey, cool it,” Alec tells him. “She might not be a transgenic, but she’s on our side. She helped Biggs when the mob was trying to lynch him and she prevented the whole Annie thing from turning into a disaster. You know exactly what White would have made that look like.”
Oh, sweet lord, does he have to bring those things up? I’m almost blushing here, damn it.
Some of the anger has left Mole’s eyes now, but the suspicion’s still there.
“You’re living with Joshua,” he says, realization in his eyes.
“Got a problem with that?” I ask defensively.
Mole shrugs. “Not my problem if he wants to surround himself with ordinaries.”
That’s when Joshua comes in. After a lot of smiling and sniffing he offers to show me around, telling Alec that M is looking for him. Since I’m curious and don’t really feel like hanging around Mole, I agree. We head out, but not before Joshua scowls at Mole.
My hero.
-------
Coming towards the end of my tour, I have to say I’m pretty impressed. They really managed to make something out of TC, despite the miserable circumstances.
There are living quarters, an eatery, an infirmary, a weapon house, the headquarters of course and several sentries placed at strategic positions. There’s even a frigin’ child care facility. It’s like a small town.
A rather freaky one of course, but a town nonetheless.
Come to think of it, this is almost nicer than the rest of Seattle. Now that’s a freaky thought.
On our way back we stop at one of the living quarters since it’s where Biggs lives and Joshua insists on seeing if he’s in, despite my protests.
On our way upstairs we run into a group of transgenics trying to fix a leak in a water pipe. They let go string after string of rather inventive curses, but that doesn’t seem to be getting them anywhere.
We pass by them, head to Biggs room and knock. Nobody answers, we knock again. Still no answer. Looks like he isn’t home, thank God.
On our way back down Joshua asks if he can help with the pipe.
“Nah,” one of the transgenics answers. “Nothing you could do that we haven’t already tried. Damn leak just won’t be patched. Really seems set on giving us a hard time here.”
I can clearly see the barcode on the back of his neck. Not sure if he’s X-series but if he is he’s definitely too young to be an X5. Guess he must be X6 or something else completely. He doesn’t look older than 16, but he’s undeniably cute. Too young for me of course – not that I would be interested even if he weren’t – but still cute.
He has short, messed up blond hair, probably from running his hands through it one too many times, and sparkling blue eyes. He looks innocent somehow, despite where he came from, what he’s seen.
I don’t know why, but that touches me somehow.
And it makes me want to help.
I know I shouldn’t, know that I’ve already exposed myself enough, too much actually, but I can’t help it. There’s this uncontrollable part of me that still wants to be good and nice and sweet, like I used to be. It’s small, microscopically so, but still there. And right now it wants out. Damn it.
Besides, what are they going to do if they find out what I am? Go to the police? Hardly. Still, it’s not smart…
“Maybe I can help,” I say before I can stop myself.
The boy throws me a doubtful look but moves aside all the same. “Be my guest.”
After shooing them all back a bit, saying something about them being in my light, I peer through the small hole in the wall. The leak isn’t too big, I should be able to fix it.
I make sure that they can’t see what I’m doing before reaching into the hole, closing my hand around the pipe and concentrating. It takes a few seconds…okay, so maybe a whole minute…or two, but then a faint glow appears around my hand.
Pulling it away I examine the pipe. It’s fixed, and it actually looks like it was patched…at least it comes damn close.
I can’t keep the satisfied smirk from my face when I turn around. “All done,” I tell them.
They ogle me for a few moments before the boy gets up and takes a look at the pipe himself.
“Wow,” he exclaims. “Wow! This is really frigin’! We’ve been working on it for, like, half an hour or something. Couldn’t fix it. Damn patch wouldn’t stay where we put it. This just blazes. Hey, wanna help us with something else? Over at the eatery we’re trying to fix this old fridge, there are some leaks in the cooling system, you know. And since you seem to be the big expert on fixing leaks…”
He’s talking so fast that my brain can hardly register what he just said. He’s got this lopsided smile on his face and he’s looking so hopeful and nice…
“Uh, sure,” I say.
Wait a minute.
Why did I just agree? Am I under some kind of spell or something? Is he one of those freaky people that can play with my mind, make me do things I don’t want to? I suddenly feel very cold. Not a nice scenario. But maybe it’s just his youthful charm…or something.
Joshua tells me that he’s going back to headquarters and the boy is already moving toward the stairs, so I hurry up and fall into step next to him. “So, what are you?” I ask, not bothering with beating around the bush. “X-series?”
“Yeah,” he says proudly. “X-6. You?”
“Uh, I’m not a transgenic,” I say offhandedly.
He stops and stares at me. I don’t know why I still believe that if I don’t make a big deal out of it, others won’t either.
“You’re an ordinary?” he asks surprised. “I mean, you’re human?”
“Something like that,” I say shifting around, then I turn away and continue to walk down the stairs. I hate it when people ask me that. I never know what to say. I could of course just lie and say that I’m human, but I hate lying. I can never quite get myself to do it, except if I have no other choice. Even two years in the alien abyss couldn’t change that.
He hurries to catch up. “What do you mean something like that? You, like, a mixture or something?” his tone is curious, but not apprehensive or anything. Nice change from the cold suspicion I always get from M.
“I guess you could call it that,” I say evasively.
He seems satisfied with the answer, or at least he stops asking any more questions. Either way works for me.
“What’s your name?” I ask before he can start asking questions again.
“I’m X6-617,” he tells me.
“That’s…your designation,” I point out carefully.
“Oh, you mean a real name? Like Paul or Peter or something? Don’t have one. Haven’t really found one I like. Hey, wanna chose one for me? You look like you’d be really good at that.”
Now it’s my turn to look startled. “You want me to pick a name for you?”
“Sure, why not. Better than just having a designation.”
I think about it for a moment. Then it comes to me. “Calvin,” I state. It’s such an obvious choice.
“Calvin?” he asks.
“Yeah. See, there’s this comic that was really popular in the 90ies. It’s called Calvin and Hobbes and it’s about this boy Calvin and his stuffed tiger Hobbes that Calvin imagines to be a real tiger. You just…remind me of Calvin.”
Now he grins. “Calvin…I like it.”
I smile back at him. Can’t help it. His grin is just…infectious.
We step outside into the rain, but I hardly even notice the weather. He grins at me again. “Now I just need a stuffed tiger…”
I laugh before I can stop myself. Then it comes to me. This is the first time I actually laughed since I left Roswell.
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