Well I was born in a small town
And I live in a small town
Prob'ly die in a small town
Oh, those small communities
(Small Town--John Mellencamp)
It took Magnus and Logan almost a day to drive to Jericho, only stopping to fill the car and to eat. It hadn't been a bad trip for either of them. They had their disagreements about what music to listen to and what places to eat, but other than that, it was an easy drive. Neither of them talked much. Logan, was an easy person when it came to silence. He could respect it, much as Magnus himself did and never felt it neces sary to fill the air with useless chatter. He would never admit it, but that was another reason why Magnus wanted Logan to come along and not another one of the X-men. It wasn't as much of a reason as the one's he'd given in the control area of the danger room, but as a fringe benefit it wasn't a bad thing.
Jericho was about a half an hour drive outside of Florence. They stopped at a motel along route 95, located between the two and rented rooms. Neither of them felt tired, they'd both managed to get some sleep in the car, but the idea of a shower seemed like a good one.
They met an hour later in the coffee shop of the motel. Magnus had arrived first and was drinking coffee and reading a complimentary copy of the local paper when Logan finally made his appearance. He looked up at the other man slid into the booth across from him. "Feeling better?" he inquired politely.
"Much," Logan confirmed, signaling the waitress for coffee. "Nothing like a shower and a change of clothes t'wash away the road dust." He was wearing a pair of black jeans and a black T-shirt. A few droplets of water still clung to his hair from his recent shower.
"You look like a cat burglar," Magnus commented, studying the X-man's appearance. Magnus himself was wearing a grey suit that spoke of subtle dignity. He looked like someone who had so much power available at his fingertips that he didn't care if you noticed him or not. If he wanted you to notice him, you would.
"And you look respectable as hell," Logan replied, lighting up a cigar. "Between the two of us, we represent a well balanced view eh?"
Before Magnus could answer that comment, the waitress came over with a cup of coffee for Logan. There was already a silver coffee pot on the table from Magnus' order, so she merely left the cup. It was early in the morning so they ordered breakfast.
"Steak and eggs," Logan requested after Magnus had ordered. "Over easy on the eggs. As for the steak, this is what I want you to do -- hold it over the broiler an' say 'steak, flame, flame, steak.' Then just put it on a plate and bring it out, okay?"
The waitress, a young girl with dark hair and a pleasant face grinned. "Just warm it up to body temperature huh?"
Logan nodded. "You got it Darlin'."
She nodded, made a note on her little pad and walked away. Logan watched her, admiring the way her short black skirt barely covered her butt, leaving most of her long, tanned, shapely legs in perfect view. "She's cute," he noted, turning back to Magnus.
"She's young," Magnus commented. He estimated the girl's age to be sixteen, perhaps seventeen, not quite yet out of High School. He had seen a boy's style class ring hanging around her neck on a chain. He had seen other class rings around young girl's necks before and had asked his students about it. According to the New Mutants, it was a common way to show the world you were going "steady." One of the pre-marriage games adolescents liked to play, before they grew up and start thinking of the real thing.
"Doesn't matter," Logan retorted. "I'm just admiring the view, not askin' her t'dance with me." He filled his coffee cup from the silver pot and ran his fingers through his hair.
"Mmm," was Magnus' only comment. He turned his attention back to the local paper, knowing Logan wouldn't take offense. Logan didn't either, only interrupting to ask him for the sports page.
It wasn't until they finish eating and were enjoying a last cup of coffee that Logan asked, "Do you want to go to Jericho now and check it out?"
Magnus nodded. "Might as well. Do you have the wrist detector?"
Logan held up his arm, revealing the micro version of the Cerebro mutant detector. For obvious reason, to the casual eye it looked like a watch and the tiny screen, when not working to detect mutants, even gave the correct time. "Got it. Checked it out up in the room and it seems to be workin' just fine. Kitty fed in the limited data the main Cerebro was able to give us on this mutant. Finding him or her shouldn't be too difficult. We'll just drive around the town till the alarm starts going off and narrow it down from there. The alarm gets louder the closer you get. There's also a silent mode to the thing if you want it, that just uses a flashing light. Useful if we find our person in a crowd."
"Then let's take care of business." Magnus glanced briefly at the check the waitress had left on the table then put a twenty dollar bill on top of it and rose from his chair.
"That check wasn't more'n eleven bucks or so," Logan commented as they walked out of the place. "That waitress is gonna remember you for a long time."
"She'll probably think it was you who paid the tab," Magnus walked across the parking lot to the car. "Because you were so obviously impressed with her legs."
He looked at Logan for a brief second longer than was necessary, the corners of his mouth turning up ever so slightly. Logan caught it. "Careful Mags," he warned the man. "That was almost a joke. If you don't watch it, people might start to think you have a sense of humor."
"And wouldn't that be a tragedy of epic proportions."
Jericho looked so typical of a small American town, that Magnus wouldn't have been at all surprised if Andy Griffith had come strolling down the main street, wearing a sheriff's uniform. The main street was wide, clean, and lined on both sides with storefronts. There was no mall in Jericho. The closest thing to a mall was a small plaza with a grocery store, a dry cleaner, and a drug store. The main street was wide, but only divided by a single yellow line. Trees lined the sidewalks, some old and tall, some fairly young, showing the town's concern about keeping this shaded sidewalk tradition They replaced any trees that died with new ones.
"I feel like I just stepped back in time 'bout thirty, forty years," Logan commented.
"I know the feeling," Magnus agreed. "Except I doubt forty years ago, you would have seen a woman dressed like that." He nodded his head in the direction of a young woman coming out of one of the stores. She was wearing a very short black denim skirt and a bright red tube top. Her legs covered with ripped fishnet stockings and her feet clad in red, high-top sneakers. She wore white makeup on her face, with dark purple lipstick and black eye-shadow. Her hair obviously dyed black, with a long purple streak running down the middle of it.
Logan looked at the girl and snickered. "She's probably the town's biggest rebel. He looked down at his wrist detector. "Wouldn't it be a hoot if she was the person we were looking for?" He pressed a couple buttons on the detector. It stayed silent. "Nope, not her." He looked back up at the girl, who paused to light up a cigarette before she continued on her shopping spree. "She's probably the preacher's daughter, rebelling against her upbringing."
"Speaking of preachers, take a look." They'd driven past the shopping district of Jericho and were now getting into the residential section of main street. Magnus pointed to a large white church. The stained glass windows glimmered brightly in the mid morning sun, but it wasn't the beautiful windows, or the neatly manicured lawn that caught his at tention. It was the sign board out front. It didn't give the times for services, as church sign boards often did. Magnus assumed that anyone who attended this church knew the times of all service, and didn't need reminding. All that was on the sign were five words, in bold block letters:
Logan also caught the sign and sneered. "They're probably talking about the poor girl with the death makeup we just passed."
"Maybe." Magnus paused the car across the street from the church and looked at the sign for a long time. It's probably just the title of this week's sermon, he told himself, and it doesn't mean a thing. Still, he could feel the hair on the back of his neck standing up on end. It seemed somehow like a bad omen. He pulled away from the curb and continued driving. "Let's try to find our person."
Logan nodded, adjusting the detector on his wrist for wide range scanning. A low, steady beeping noise emitted from the tiny speaker. "Let's get off the main drag and start checking some of these side streets."
"Good idea." Magnus turned left off of main street.
They drove around the streets, using the detector to guide them. As they got closer to the mutant's location the beep got louder and louder, though thankfully never as loud as the alarm on Cerebro back home.
"This is the area," Logan finally said. "Slow down a little and let me see if I can narrow it down a bit."
Magnus obligingly slowed down the car. They were in what was probably the middle class area of Jericho. The houses were old; most of them probably built at the turn of the century. Many of them large, but they were closer together than the earlier houses they'd passed. Those houses were mansions, with only two or three to a street. Coming into town, they'd seen several factories. These were probably the houses of the foremen, the small business owners, the school teachers. The mansions probably housed the factory owners or the children of the factory owners that now lived on the fortunes or at least in the homes their ancestors had built. Magnus was sure a few streets away would be the smaller houses; crowed together, the bigger ones split into apartments. Those would be the homes of the factory workers and the store clerks.
The beeping from the micro Cerebro got louder and steadier. "This is the place," Logan said, pointing to a neat, dark blue house with cream colored trim. "That's the house and according to the machinery, our boy's inside, or in the back yard."
"We don't know yet if this person is male or female," Magnus reminded him. He drove past the house, turned around and came back, parking in sight of the house, but not directly across from it.
"So now what's the plan?" Logan asked, looking over at Magnus.
"Good question." Magnus squinted, shading his eyes with his hands against the sun, so he could look at the mailbox. "According to the sign on the box, the family living in that house is named Miller. But we don't know if this is where our mutant lives or not. He or she could just be visiting a friend here or selling magazine subscriptions to the Millers. I don't want to approach the house until I can get more information."
"When it comes to getting information, I'm yer man," Logan said, lighting up a cigarette. "Tell ya what Mags, this car, with the New York license plate, is probably sticking out like a black olive on a wedding cake. Why don't you let me out to check on a few things?"
Magnus thought about it for a moment, then realized Logan was making sense. He nodded slowly. "All right. How long do you think it will take?"
"Not long at all," Logan assured him. "This'll be a breeze."
"Then why don't I go to the coffee shop we saw back in town?" Magnus suggested. "If my hunch is right, that's where the locals hang out. If our mutant has recently drawn attention to his or herself with some spec tacular display of power, I might be able to get some information."
"Good idea," Logan agreed. "Don't even bother t'pick me up. Main street isn't far, I'll walk back to meet you." he grasped the door handle to open the door and then paused. "You're going to draw attention in the restaurant. You're new in town and you have big city guy written all over you with that suit and all. Whatcha gonna say if someone asks you what you're doing in Podunk?"
"Simple," Magnus looked at Logan steadily. "I'll tell them I'm from New York and I'm looking over Jericho for business purposes. They'll probably think I own a textile mill and want to relocate to the south to save on labor costs."
"Good idea." Logan nodded, giving his stamp of approval to Magnus' idea.
"And it isn't really a lie when it comes down to it, is it?" Magnus asked. "After all, mutants are our business."
Logan nodded in agreement and opened the car door. "I'll see ya within a couple of hours."
"Till then," Magnus responded. The moment Logan shut the door and stepped away from the car, he drove away.
Logan watched, waiting until the car had turned right, heading back to Main Street before turning his attentions to the Miller house. It was a weekday so the street was quiet. He didn't see many cars parked in driveways. Most of the people were probably at work, or running errands.
He made sure the scanner alarm was in silent mode and walked across the street to the house. In earlier times, Logan had done more covert spying operations than he could even remember. He'd done a lot of them on people that were so used to being watched that their nerves were constantly on edge, waiting to find out who was watching them. This job would be easy. Logan didn't know who the Millers were, but he didn't think they spent much time worrying about people watching them.
He made his way around the outside of the house. He blended so well with the available shadows, that someone could have walked right by him and not seen him. When made his way to the back of the house, the faint smell of baking drifted out from an open kitchen window. He sniffed the air--someone was baking an apple pie. He inhaled again, this time focusing in on the scent of the baker. He caught it faintly, among the scent of cinnamon and apples cooking. The pie maker was female, her age bracket in the late thirties to early forties, and she had dyed her hair recently. If he had been interested in accumulating more information about her, he probably could have determined the last time she had showered and what brand of soap, shampoo and deodorant she used. Probably our mutant's mother, Logan thought. Doesn't seem likely that she could be the one.
Just to double check himself, he crept right under the kitchen win dow, and looked at the screen of the wrist detector. The screen was blinking rapidly, but when he raised it up closer to the window, the blink ing didn't speed up--in fact it slowed. He lowered his arm to his side again and looked at the screen. It was blinking faster now. He or she is close, very close, Logan thought, but they ain't on the ground floor. He looked around the bottom side of the house and made his way over to a basement window well. Is this where you are? Are you playing in the basement?
He crouched down beside the basement window well and looked. The window had bars across it, which surprised him. It wasn't uncommon in cities where crime rates were high, for people to bar their base ment windows, but this wasn't the city. He doubted there was a high crime rate in Jericho. Maybe things aren't as peaceful in Mayberry as they look, he thought. Maybe some of the local boys get a little tanked on Saturday night and decide to supplement their income from the factory with a little B&E? The glass of the window itself was painted black. Very carefully, he snaked his hand through the bars and touched the glass with his finger tip. The paint was on the outside of the window, not the inside. He drew his hand back. Keeping his acute senses on alert, he chewed on these discoveries for a moment. He didn't like the thoughts that were snaking into his mind. Slow down, you don't know what's going on yet. Don't jump ahead of yerself.
He rose up from his kneeling position and continued walking around the house, looking for other basement windows. On the south side of the house, he found what he wanted--a window with a tiny crack in it. This window, like the others, was barred over and painted black. The crack was so small he doubted it allowed any daylight to get into the base ment, but that didn't matter. It was enough of a crack to let a little bit of air escape. He knelt down on the ground, putting his head as close to the bars as he dared. For a long time, he sat there, listening for any noises, checking for scents.
Magnus parked the car and walked across the street to the narrow storefront for the coffee shop. Neat white letter on the green awning told him the name of this place was Coffee And. As he opened the door and stepped inside, one quick sniff of the air told him the And included a lot of grease.
Coffee And was a long, narrow place, with several booths lining one long side. On the other side was a narrow counter. Behind the counter were several machines dispensing coffee, soda, and milk. The kitchen was behind the counter, joined to the dining area with a swinging door and a hole cut into the wall. At least I won't have to watch the cooking, Magnus thought, with some relief. The townsfolk might be used to the food served at this place, but it seemed to him that if he listened hard enough, he would hear people's arteries hardening.
Most of the booths were empty. Five people sat at the counter. Three older men, who obviously spent most of their days there, drinking coffee and chatting with one another. One younger man, polishing off the last of his late breakfast, and a middle aged woman reading a news paper. Magnus sat down in the center of the counter. His arrival into the coffee shop had brought a silence to the room as if someone had hit an off switch. He suddenly felt terribly overdressed. The other patrons all wore blue jeans or work pants, except for the woman, who was wearing a faded blue cotton dress. Perhaps I should have taken a page from Logan's book and dressed down, he thought.
A waitress, wearing a short pink dress with a stained red apron walked out of the kitchen. She looked at Magnus and smiled warmly. "Ah didn't see ya come in," she said, or at least that is what Magnus thought she said. Her accent was so thick that all her words seemed to blur together with an almost musical lilt. "Whaat kin I git for ya?"
Magnus smiled politely. "Just a cup of coffee."
She smiled warmly. Magnus judged her to be in her mid forties. She had a good figure, a little on the thin side, and a pleasant enough face. Her hair was brown, streaked with grey, and tied up in a neat bun on top of her head. "All raght," She reached under the counter and came up with a napkin, spoon, and a heavy white mug. She placed these items in front if him with brisk efficiency. She turned away for a moment to get a pot of coffee then turned back to him, pouring the inky liquid into the cup. "Haven't see you around here b'fore," she commented. "Visiting someone in town?"
He heard a little too much warmth in her voice and a lot of interest. "I am visiting, but not anyone in particular." He looked at her left hand, noting she didn't wear a wedding ring. "Actually, I'm here on business."
"Really?" She stayed behind the counter in front of him, still holding the pot in her hands. "And what is it ya do?"
He was thinking of an answer when a male voice called out from the kitchen. "Gloria, can you come back and give me a hand?"
"Oops! Boss callin', Ah'd bettah go see what he wants." She winked, smiled, and walked back into the kitchen. A feeling of relief flowed through Magnus. He already had a feeling he might have to end up telling a few lies before they left Jericho, he didn't want to start before it was necessary.
Gloria's immediate acceptance of Magnus seemed to send a signal to the other patrons of Coffee And. While none of them leaped over to introduce themselves, they at least accepted his presence in their famil iar place and started among themselves again. Magnus pretended to be engrossed with his thoughts, but in truth he was listening to every word he could hear. Before an hour passed, he knew who had retired from the factory recently, who was rumored to be sleeping with whom, the various ailments the three older men at the counter suffered from, and that someone named Bob Greendale had been arrested for drunken driving last Saturday night. He also learned that Bob had made his problem worse by vomiting all over a young deputy's shoes and slacks while being questioned.
Magnus realized he was learning what he needed to know by what he didn't hear more than what he did hear. If their mutant had done any thing public, recently, these men weren't talking about it, which either meant they weren't taking chances with a stranger in the place, or, more likely, nothing had happened. This could mean several things. Perhaps his or her mutant power wasn't as strong as Cerebro hinted it was. Or, the ability was something that wouldn't be noticed by people. A third possibility was that the mutant still didn't know what he or she was capable of and Cerebro just detected him or her on a genetic scan alone. No matter what the reason, Magnus was certain he wasn't going to learn anything important in the coffee shop.
Gloria came out of the kitchen again. She grabbed the coffee pot and came towards him. "Fill ya up again?" she asked softly.
Magnus shook his head. "Just the check, if you don't mind. I must be going."
A brief flicker of disappointment flashed in her eyes, but she hid it quickly. "Ah hope Ah see you again," she said as she pealed a piece of paper off her check pad and placed it down by his empty coffee cup.
"Well see," Magnus said noncommittally. He put a dollar bill and two quarters on the check and left Coffee And. As he headed toward the car, he saw Logan, perched on the hood, smoking a cigar. There was a grim look on his face, that became more obvious as Magnus got closer.
"Something is wrong, isn't it?" Magnus asked.
"Yeah." Logan pulled the cigar out of his mouth and spit onto the street. "I found our mutant. She's female and she's in the basement of that house."
"What's so terrible about that?" Magnus asked, not understanding.
"You don't get it do ya?" Logan scowled, looking around to make sure no one could overhear them. "She ain't in the basement doin' a load of laundry or makin' a bird house at her daddy's tool bench. She lives in that basement. An' she's been livin' there.. in the dark, for a long friggin' time."
Magnus' eyes widened. "Get in the car." It wasn't a request. Logan nodded.
When they were both sitting inside the car Magnus looked over at him. "Are you sure about this?"
"As sure as I've ever been about anything in my life." Logan reached up and tapped his nose. "This doesn't lie. That poor girl smells like dirt. Like it's so ground into her it's become a part of her scent. An' it ain't the smell of livin' dirt, it's dead dirt. Dirt that never gets any sun. Dirt you'd find in an unfinished basement. I tell ya Mags, this poor frail's family has her locked in the basement like some damned rat!"
Magnus heard the words, understood what Logan was saying, but refused to let himself get emotionally involved with it. I know this is horrible, he told himself, but now is not the time to think about how bad it must be for her. Later maybe, but not now. He looked at Logan. "What else did you discover about this child? I want to know everything."
Logan took a deep drag on his cigar. "Like I said, she's female. But she ain't a child. I'd guess her to be in her late teens, early twenties. Considerin' the life she's been leadin, her scent checks out pretty healthy. Some nutrition and skin problems, but it could be a lot worse. She's getting fed regularly, even if it ain't properly. An' there must be some sorta bathroom arrangement down there, or they let her out t'wash up sometimes, cause it didn't smell as if she was crappin' in the corners, an' her body odor wasn't too bad. " He paused, his eyes narrowing as he remembered everything he'd discovered. How he'd had to fight to keep from storming into the house and confronting that woman, who had the audacity to saunter around her kitchen baking ap ple pies, when down in the basement, was a girl--probably her daughter, alone in the dark.
"Is that all you learned?" Magnus asked, his tone even.
Logan closed his eyes briefly, then opened them. "That's 'bout all. She's afraid Mags. She's been afraid so long she don't even know she's afraid anymore, but her scent has that undertone of fear. Her whole emotional scale is outa whack. Not as much anger or resentment as I'd think for someone livin' like that." He paused, thinking of what else he discovered. "Oh yeah, she's menstruating."
Magnus' neutral expression changed to one of mild discomfort. "You didn't have to tell me that, Logan. You really didn't."
Logan shrugged. "Well ya said ya wanted t'know everything. I was just following orders, boss."
If there was any sarcasm in Logan's tone, Magnus missed it entirely. Instead he thought--not about the horror of a young woman locked in the basement, or what she did that drove her family to put her there. What he thought about was what he should do about it.
For several minutes, both men sat in silence, lost in their own thoughts. Finally Magnus broke the silence. "Well, in a sense, this makes the next part easier."
"What d'ya mean?" Logan asked, rolling down the window to dispose of his cigar butt.
"I was wondering how we should approach this girl and her family. How we -- you and I -- should present ourselves. Now I know how." Magnus started up the car.
"Gonna let me in on this plan?" Logan asked.
"It's simple." Magnus said. "We'll just go over and ask them why they have her locked in the basement. We don't have to tell them any thing, after all, they've got a lot of explaining to do."
End Chapter One