Author's note #1: Although SPIRIT QUEST is a sequel to SHADOW MAN in which Logan's trip to Alkali Lake pits him against Magneto, Mystique and Toad, it is an independent story in its own right.
Author's note #2: Hey, if Marvel first says Logan has blue eyes, then in Ultimate X they're black, I can have them green here for the purpose of the story to make them more unusual and distinctive.
Three men were rocking an old pickup back and forth so violently that a guy would have to be deaf not to hear the metal panels screak in complaint as they buckled and bent. The sickening-sweet stench of rancid meat suddenly filled Logan's nostrils. Surprise made him jerk to a stop, then he put on speed, leaving the kid behind. Sabertooth! But hadn’t Cyclops blasted the bastard out of existence on Liberty Island? No sooner did he detect the enemy than the largest of the three abruptly lifted his head, the tall, shaggy form one moment flaring red in the blinking neon, the next snuffed out by the night.
Claws at the ready, he ran up to the truck but the men had vanished. Just the trace of Sabertooth's stink and the dying sound of running feet said that they had been there at all. That and the muffled crying coming from the pickup. Logan frowned, debating whether to follow the assailants or see to the occupants of the truck. Slight as the breeze was, it still carried away the enemy's scent and the back lot appeared as congested as the one out front, the vehicles offering a multitude of hiding places for ambush. The Pit Bull was a popular place Saturdays.
The kid arrived, panting more with fear than exertion. "Mom! You okay, Mom?"
The window on the driver's side rolled down. "We're fine." A woman's voice, cool and quiet as the night. "Go on, baby, get in."
The boy ran around to the passenger side. The door swung wide, closed with a slam.
Logan stood where he was, openly staring as he tried to make out the woman's silhouetted form. The Pit Bull's neon didn't penetrate the darkness of the truck's cab. Only glimmers of flashing light reflecting off the hood outlined her features. A thin, brush stroke of red ran down her straight nose, dotted her full lips, curved a bit at her chin, feathered and blurred on her high cheekbone.
"Kia Dubois?" It came out gruff and harsh like he was some cop with a warrant for her arrest clutched in his fist.
She leaned toward the window, looked up at him, smiled. "Hello, Logan."
The moonlight caressed her face. It was a striking face, a regal face, strong rather than conventionally pretty. An old-fashioned Greek goddess face carved in bold lines, all planes and hollows, the only softness the mobile, sensuous mouth and the large, liquid eyes. A memorable face. But for him -- the face of a stranger.
No, it wasn't her face but her scent that made him suck in his breath. He knew her! Knew her like recognizing someone but forgetting the name, or how or when or where they last met. But there was no mistaking her fragrant personal perfume of sun-warmed, flowering meadow. He knew her, but without remembering why he knew her.
"I . . . "
"Get in, Logan. Let's go home."
*******
It was crowded in the pickup. The twins, Kelly and Casey, turned out to be girls. They occupied the narrow storage space between the back of the seat and the rear of the cab and peeked at him timidly when he opened the door, moonlight glancing off tear-streaked cheeks framed by short, black braids. The kid was sulking in the passenger seat holding the baby.
"Mom, why -- " he began.
"Hush, Connor." She cut off his protest. "Move over."
Still sulking, the kid nevertheless hushed and moved. Logan was impressed. He tossed his knapsack in the truck bed behind the cab, climbed in and closed the door. The engine struggled into life and with a grinding of gears they were off.
"What was that all about?" he demanded. "Who were those bastards?"
"Just some drunks," she replied calmly. "They came out the back door and I happened to be in their way."
She makes it sound ordinary, commonplace, thought Logan. Maybe bouncing people around in their cars was simply the local, Pit Bull way of getting a couple of yuks, letting off a little steam. He might have believed that to be the case if he hadn't sniffed out Sabertooth. What the hell was that overgrown alley cat doing around here? Was it merely coincidence that Sabertooth happened to attack the very person who claimed to know something of Logan's past? He scowled, scrutinized the woman out of the corner of his eye, but she didn't seem particularly upset and he decided it would be best not to frighten her with his own misgivings. Just rack up the assault to bad luck. That Logan could accept, 'bad' being the only kind of luck he believed in.
"Engine needs tuning," he now commented.
Her laughter was deep in her throat. "I was hoping you'd volunteer. Saves me some money."
Logan was suddenly annoyed. Her self-assurance made him feel uncertain. Was he being taken for a ride in more ways than one?
"How is it you know me? How did you know I'd be at the Pit Bull tonight? I didn't know I'd be there. And how do you get off claiming I'm the father of these kids? I've never even seen 'em before!" He glared at the kids and four pairs of green eyes identical to his gazed back.
Kia glanced away from the road a moment, looked at him, her expression shadowed. "Later, Logan," she said softly, almost sadly. "Later." And like Connor he hushed.
Baby Kevin, meanwhile, had been fascinated by Logan ever since he got into the truck. Now he leaned towards the man, arms outstretched, pudgy hands opening and closing like little starfish.
Connor hugged the baby around the middle. "No, Kevin, you don't want to go to him. You want to stay with Connor, don't you? That's right. Stay with Connor."
A wail began building up in the pint-sized body. "Connor, let Kevin do what he wants."
"But, Mom, this guy doesn't know anything about babies!"
"Then he'll have to learn."
Logan heard the suppressed laughter in her voice and was put on his guard. "Now, wait a minute -- "
The next instant thirty-some pounds of muscle hit him in the chest as Connor let go and Kevin launched himself. Logan seized the baby by his overall straps just in time to keep him from falling and hitting the window. Kevin regained his balance, stood on Logan's thighs, looked at him, and grabbed a handful of whiskers in each plump fist.
"Hey, that hurts!"
Connor gave a malicious snicker. "Good boy, Kevin. Hold on tight!"
"Da, da, da, da, da -- " The baby was bouncing up and down, steadying himself with the whiskers. The kid had a grip of steel! Logan started to pry off the tiny fingers, stopped when he thought he might unwittingly break them. Instead, he kept his hold on the overall straps and attempted to quell the baby with a ferocious snarl.
But Kevin's joy was sublime. He flexed his knees, bobbing tirelessly, da-da-da-ing all the while, his broad smile revealing perfect, tiny teeth, his cheeks round and full as if a softball were tucked into each one. And Logan found he had no defense against that infectious baby grin. Despite himself, his snarl slowly stretched into a smile almost as wide as Kevin's, and he began laughing at the absurdity of the situation. Him, Wolverine, armed with claws of adamantium, helpless in the sticky hands of a baby!
"He's calling you Daddy!" One of the twins giggled, then both did, and they picked up the chorus. "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!"
Now Kia and even Connor began laughing as the pickup jolted through the night over the rough road silvered by the moon.
At long last the headlights caught a sign so peppered with bullet holes that Logan couldn't read it. The truck turned to jounce over a cattle grate set between dimly-seen wings of barbed wire fence, then bumped upwards, following a winding path of twin tire tracks in even worse repair than the road they'd left.
"Where are we?"
"The rez," Kia answered, concentrating on the twisting trail.
"The what?"
"The Indian reservation. Dad." Connor regarded Logan speculatively. "You're in Injun country now. We have our own ways. Our own laws. And you're an outsider."
As if to give proof to those words the next instant the pickup braked, swerved to avoid hitting a figure straddling the grass strip between the tracks, and the engine died with a series of labored, coughing jerks. The truck came to rest slightly atilt on the hillside, the headlights revealing only the upper half of a man. The face -- shaded backwards by the slanting beams -- all heavy jaw, jutting nose, eyes and brow swallowed by the dark. A gleam in one ear half-hidden by long hair. More jewelry snug around the thick neck, a beaded choker from which dangled a feather. Broad shoulders and chest, naked save for an open leather vest despite the chill evening. And carelessly cradled in the muscular arms, a rifle.
Logan sized up the apparition, without a word handed the baby over to Connor, and neither Kevin nor the kid protested that action. He reached for the door handle -- "Logan, no!" the woman pleaded -- but he ignored her, got out, stood away from the truck, arms slightly spread. Not looking for trouble, but ready to deal with it should trouble come looking for him.
A faint sound to his right -- He peered over his shoulder. Clouds had covered the moon, but he made out two shapes more solid than the night drifting his way. The man in the headlights now slipped into shadow. Logan heard the whispery crush of dried grass as he approached. He waited, motionless, reluctant to pop his claws, afraid of scaring the little girls. It was stupid, he knew, but -- patience. Wasn't that what Chuck was always on him about? Just be patient. See what these bastards want. Maybe it's the friendly neighborhood welcoming committee. Not.
Logan flinched as the sudden glare of a flashlight struck his eyes. A second later the muzzle of a rifle dug into his chest. He felt its icy, steel mouth through his shirt, cold as a dead man's kiss. "Can I help ya, bub?"
"Yeah, white man, first you get 'em up, then you get off our land -- "
He was slowly raising his hands when the truck door opened and someone jumped out.
"Hawk!" The woman strode through the grass to stand at Logan's side. She was small he realized to his surprise. The top of her head barely came to his chin, but her energy and force were such that she seemed a good foot taller.
"This is my guest! Leave us alone."
"Where's your pride, Kia? Your own kind ain't good enough you have to rut with dregs like this? Gonna give your people another half-breed bastard?"
"What I do is my business!"
"Yeah? Well, this is our business." The rifle jabbed harder, shoving Logan back into the iron grip of the other two who now ungently twisted his arms behind and snapped on handcuffs. "Drugs been showin' up on the rez. Gotta search lover boy here."
"I don't have -- "
"Shut it, paleface!" A backhand across the mouth effectively discouraged any further comments. Logan licked blood from his lips, thought 'patience' as cloth ripped and buttons popped off his shirt when Hawk frisked him as roughly as possible, 'patience' when his knapsack was discovered and emptied on the ground, belongings trampled into the dirt, 'patience' when Hawk at last grabbed a handful of hair, yanked his head back. "I'm the local police chief around here and I'm gonna keep my eye on you, you shit-faced prick. Got that?"
"Yeah," Logan growled. "And I'm gonna keep my eye on you."
"You do that, white ass!" He gave the hair a painful jerk. "Nice scalp." He laughed, the handcuffs came off and the three faded into the night.
Logan silently stuffed his things back in the pack, pushed the truck with Kia at the wheel until the engine finally caught, then clambered into to the cab and they continued up the rude track. The girls and the baby looked at him with wide, frightened eyes. Connor subjected him to a single scornful glance and thereafter ignored him. Gone was the laughter. Logan grimaced, stared at nothing out the window, rubbed a thumb between his knuckles to ease the maddening prickle as the claws itched to shoot forth. To hell with patience.
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