Adapt (I)

SCARLET

Logan explains that plan he has formulated. It is fairly simple, which is good. Complicated plans have more chances to go awry.

He explains to us that the leader of this group is shorter balding man that is, what he referred to as, a ‘radical’. I’m not really sure what classifies as a radical in the therian world, but I will be sure to ask Boe later. What I do pick up is the obvious malice in Logan’s tone when he says the bald man’s name: ‘Thomas’. His tone implies history between the two.

When Logan finishes, Boe asks some questions to stitch up holes that he thought of along the way. He asks them without the distain that he had addressed Logan with earlier. Logan answers the concerns without the condescension that he usually held for Boe. Their tone is all business now, for which I am grateful. Logan may end up trying to kill us, but right now getting those girls out of this mess is the only thing that matters to me.

Logan then directs us to start following him. We walk our way down the street in silence, then we make a turn. Then another, then another. I watch Logan’s back, watching for any signs that he might betray us. He just walks with his hands tucked into the navy-blue slacks; head slightly bowed. He isn’t watchful or alert, as Boe, Trent and I are. He seems at ease, as if this is just another day at the office for him. Maybe it is. I’m not sure how HQ usually run things, but perhaps Logan is an informant of some kind.

Logan’s shoulders shake a little and the smallest chuckle travels back to me.

“What?” I snap at him.

He doesn’t look back at me, just lifts his head. “I was just thinking on how I have never worked with hunters before. Or should I say a hunter, a human and a hybrid.” He chuckles again. “It sounds like the beginning of a joke.”

I narrow my eyes at the back of his head. “I’m in hysterics.” I dead pan.

His deep breath lifts his shoulders, then he lets it out in one long exhale. He stops in the middle of the foot path and I damn near run into the back of him. Catching myself in time, I jump back a few steps, putting distance between us.

“We are here.”

We are at the back half of the industrial district, where the old brick factory warehouses change to low-lying warehouses that take up football fields, made out of sheet metal. My eyes look at the four buildings I can see, wondering which it is.

Behind me, Boe takes in a deep breath as well. “Oh.” He says, as if everything makes sense.

Logan gives a small nod. “Yes, they all have been taking the sewer lines so as not to be tracked. Quite ingenious.” Logan says.

My head starts swinging around, looking for all of the unspoken explanations. Trent is doing the same.

Logan sighs softly. “Your tracker has not been able to track the perpetrators because they have been using the underground infostructure to create dead ends. I have just provided Boe with the end of their trail that will now lead you to them.”

“Oh.” I say, echoing Boe.

“So… now that Boe has their scent, we can follow it?” Trent asks.

I shrug, picking up the gist of Trent’s question. “Okay Boe, which building is it?” I ask, keen to get in and get done.

Boe looks around, eyes narrowed as if he is struggling to see in the darkness of predawn. “None of them. The trail leads away.”

I look back at Logan. “You couldn’t just lead us to where they are at?”

He shakes his head. “Coming this far is already putting my position at risk. I need to stay as far away from the scene as possible.” Logan gives a nonchalant look around.

I stare at Logan for another moments, trying for the last time to detect any small indication that he is leading us into some sort of trap. I look at his shoulders which are set in a squared yet relaxed position. His hands are still tucked into his pockets and his feet are set in an unsymmetrical stance that tells me that either Logan is not a fighter, or that he bears no ill will toward us. But it is not his stance that seems to compel me. It is his eyes. His gaze meets mine. I see the time that he has lived and the pain in his soul. I see the need that seems to haunt him, though I do not know what for. Past that I see a thread of blue. It is not a glow, not like those I have seen in other beings like him. But still, his eyes hold a light that is ethereal. That thread fills me with a sense of de ja vu. In my chest I feel a swelling of familiarity. I know in that instant that Logan would never betray me. Even though I know that this knowledge is unfounded, I nod softly at Logan.

I can’t be sure, but I think I see the corner of his mouth lift, before a gust of wind blows down the empty industrial street, and Logan disappears before our eyes.

I let out the breath that I was holding, then turn to Trent and Boe. “Okay, well, as weird as that was, let’s get this done.”