Generation X - Crossroads

by Unknown Author

  Slowly a broad smile spread over Angelo’s face. “Jubilee, get out of that tube, girl, and gather up the posse at the Xabago. We’re going for a drive.”

  “A drive?” Jubilee was confused. “To where?”

  Chill grinned at her. “To nowhere. They’ve got a lot of it around here.”

  Curious enough not to question, she climbed out of the pool, put on her yellow coat over her swimsuit, and started looking for the others. It took about fifteen minutes for her to find Paige and Dog Pound out behind the hotel, where he appeared to be demonstrating his ability to communicate telepathicaily with a notch-eared tomcat. By the time they got to the Xabago, everyone else seemed to be there except Angelo. Jono closed the door after her, jumped into the driver’s seat, and they were soon roaring off down the highway, turning onto the first farm road they came to, a narrow, empty stretch of blacktop heading arrow straight toward the horizon.

  She looked around, checking the bathroom and the bedroom. “Where’s Angelo?”

  Chill slipped past her so he could climb into the top-gun seat. “On the roof,” he answered. He reached up and pounded on the bubble with his fist. “Coast is clear,’' he yelled out through the bubble. “Do it!”

  Jubilee moved so she could look up through the dome, and saw Angelo’s face, showing all his teeth in a big smile. He was wearing a tank top, cut low on the side, and he seemed to be crouched behind the dome, holding on to the roof racks with the extended skin of his hands. The rest of his skin was flapping in the breeze, on his face, and especially under his arms and down his sides.

  “Jono,” said Chill, “floor it.”

  The Xabago’s motor roared, the camper surged forward down the empty road, and the skin under Angelo’s arms began to balloon out in the wind. He whooped so loud, they could hear it even over the roar, and she could see his fingers stretching under the strain. Suddenly they were all jammed around her, cheering and clapping and trying to see up through the dome, as Angelo rose up from the roof, flying over the Xabago like a kite. And for just a minute, they all flew with him.

  The Expatriate watched as the express courier left his office, and considered the package on his desk. The phone rang and he answered it. “Ivan, your timing is perfect.”

  “I am afraid,” said Ivan, “that we will be receiving few orders from the World Federalists, at least for the next few lifetimes.”

  The Expatriate chuckled. “That’s a shame, but there are other causes, other customers. The cycle never ends, my friend.”

  “Did the documentation I sent arrive?”

  He reached over and picked up the thick envelope. He pulled the strip to open it, and removed a book wrapped in tissue paper. “Indeed, it just showed up.”

  He removed the tissue paper and studied the drab, govemment-issue cover. It read, s.h.i.e.l.d. mandroid mk rv-B. COVERT OPERATIONS MODEL. TOP SECRET. He thumbed open the cover, studied the drawing of the dangerous-looking powered combat armor inside. “Thank you, Ivan. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some reading to do if I’m going to be ready for our guests.”

  “It was announced today that Buford Hollis, the super hero known as Razorback, will be made an honorary member of the Secret Service next week in a ceremony immediately before a White House reception in his honor. Hollis, who is traveling to promote a widow’s fund for the nation’s truckers killed in the line of duty, could not be reached for comment.”

  —excerpt from WNN news report

  RAZORBACK HIDES EVIDENCE OF TRUCK STOP FOR UFOS DUCKBOY SEEN DRIVING CLEVELAND TAXICAB MUTANT BABY EATS POODLE WHILE PARENTS SLEEP —National Explainer headlines

  It was at a Denny’s somewhere outside Pierre, South Dakota that Jubilee found a tourist flyer for the Mall of America. It was approximately five minutes later when the begging, whining, and nagging started. Sean Cassidy heard about the four levels, the four hundred stores, the restaurants, the nightclubs, the amusement park, the aquarium, and the miniature golf course. He heard every word of the flyer, in exact detail and also paraphrased, rearranged in every permutation possible, and he was certain that he’d heard them all by the time they reached Blunt, twenty-two miles later. Sean’s ears could withstand the roar of jet engines, the pounding of artillery, or the blast of a rock concert, but they had no immunity against the cajoling of a determined teenager.

  Finally he consulted with Emma when they stopped for lunch at a somewhat more upscale eatery of Emma’s choice, “It’s near Minneapolis, not really out of our way. What do ye think?”

  She took a bite of her chocolate mousse and pushed it aside. “Shopping?” She smiled. “Really, Sean, my arm could be twisted. I mean, it’s not Rodeo Drive, but it could be entertaining.” She studied his face. “You’re surprised.”

  “Aye.”

  She laughed, and it was an almost musical thing. “You don’t know much about women, do you? Besides, after the events of our last few stops it will make a nice change. After all, what kind of trouble can the children get into at a mall?’ ’

  It was Sean’s turn to laugh. “And ye don’t know much about kids, do ye?”

  The news received a mixed reception in the Xabago, and Angelo had to be the least enthused of the bunch. Jubilee was thrilled, of course. Everett and Paige seemed excited about the prospect. For once, Angelo observed, it was someplace Everett hadn’t already been before. Monet seemed only a little appalled, and Jono was just disinterested. But Angelo hated malls. Back in L.A., malls had been where the rich kids hung out, where kids like him weren’t welcome, where people looked and talked in whispers, and security guards watched with suspicious eyes.

  He tried to explain that to Jubilee, but she wasn’t having any of it. “Come on, Angelo. Chill out. This isn’t the Galleria, this is the Mall of America, where everybody comes to shop. All nations, all races, all colors, all genetic makeups. It’s, like, the ultimate democracy. If you’ve got a wallet, you can play, and if you don’t you can still shop the windows with the best of them.”

  But Angelo wasn’t buying it. He’d learned young that you were always careful to know whose turf you were walking on, and to respect the lines if you didn’t intend to trample them and back it up. Some lines were worth trampling, and some, some you just shied away.

  Things got more annoying as they reached the mall and Paige started oohing and aahing at the size of the parking lot. “I have never seen that many cars. I didn’t know there were that many cars in the world.”

  “At least,” quipped Angelo, “the Xabago is easy to spot.” They found an RV parking spot and Jubilee was, of course, the first one out the door, Paige in tow. He could see Jono watching her silently from the driver’s seat.

  The M.O.N.S.T.E.R.s had gone over to nearby Minneapolis rather than tagging along, something about Pound “wanting to see where Mary Tyler Moore lived,” so at least Angelo didn’t have to watch Jono pining over that business. He studied Jono and frowned. Jono was doing okay in the glum department, even without Recall’s help.

  Angelo sat on the couch looking at the closed door. He could hear Emma outside, telling everyone to meet back at the RVs after closing time. He heaved a sigh.

  Jono wandered back and held out something for him. “You want the image inducer?”

  Angelo shook his head. “I was thinking about staying here. Maybe go over to the other RV and see if I can get the satellite dish to work.”

  Jono shrugged. “We could be missing out.”

  “We?”

  Jono shuffled his feet. “Not much interest in it, myself.” ‘‘Really think we might be missing something?”

  “Dunno.”

  “I’ll go if you go.”

  Angelo shrugged. “What’s to lose?”

  Jono held up the image inducer. “You want this?”

  Angelo took it, studied it for a minute, then tossed it on the couch. “Nah. Let ’em stare. I’m used to it. Come on, amigo." jubilee looked around the shop in mock horror. “A bookstore? Paige, girl, I give up. You are, like, totally
hopeless.”

  Paige stopped to examine a rack near the front of the store marked new arrivals. “It wouldn’t hurt you to read a book once in a while, Jubes.”

  “I do read a book—-once in a while.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s just that, well, I’d rather experience things firsthand, instead of just reading them in a book. Is that a crime?’ ’ “Yeah, well, if you read a few books, maybe it would help you to understand what it is you’re experiencing.” She waved her arms. “Look at this place. It has the wisdom of the world in it!”

  Jubilee was looking at a clearance table. She picked up a thick hardback and held it up for Paige to see. The cover illustration was of a balding man of maybe forty, round faced and rosy cheeked. His wide mouth turned up in a tight-lipped smile that looked vaguely disturbing, as if he knew something embarrassing about you and was going to tell all your friends. He wore a dark suit and sat carefully posed at a desk. Next to him was a large model of a DNA double helix with a paper dunce cap perched on top. The title was Selfish Genes. The author was Walt Norman.

  “Oh,” said Paige, “no.”

  Paige stepped closer. There was a big red sticker over Norman’s head that read clearance price: $4.95. “Oh,” she repeated, “no.”

  Jubilee smiled weakly. “At least he’s on the closeout rack. Strictly last season’s fashions.”

  “Maybe,” said Paige, running her fingertips over the cover as though she might learn something from the texture alone, “but it doesn’t necessarily work that way. Maybe there’s just a paperback coming out, or another book. Maybe this was a best-seller and we just didn’t hear about it.”

  “It’s true,” said Jubilee, “we don’t get out much.” Her voice dropped to a hiss, “Which is why I don’t want to spend my entire trip to the Mall of America looking at this moron’s book!”

  Paige flipped it open to the table of contents. “ ‘Ten Stupid Things Mutants Do to Hurt Their Own Cause.’ ‘We’ve Replaced Your Department with Some Fast Guy: Unfair Mutant

  Competition in the Workplace.’ ‘The Equality Myth: All Men are Created Equal, but the Constitution Doesn’t Say Anything About Mutants.’ ‘You’re Ugly and Your Mother Dresses You Funny: Why Mutants Hide Behind Costumes and Masks.’ ‘Zero Mutant Population Growth: Stopping the Mutant Plague.’ ” She snapped the book closed angrily, pushed it away, then pulled it back. “I should read this.”

  “Then buy it.”

  “I can’t. It’s the money.”

  Jubilee looked exasperated. “Emma gave us an allowance. You can’t have spent yours. We haven’t been anywhere. I haven’t spent mine, and goodness knows it ain’t for lack of wanting.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a five. “Here, I’ll give you the money.”

  She shook her head. “No, you don’t get it. See, if I buy the book, Norman might get some money, and I just can’t stand the idea of sending him my money. Any of it. Five dollars or five cents.”

  Angelo and Jono leaned on the railing, looking down at the amusement park four floors below. Angelo refused to let on, but he was kind of getting a kick out of the place. Not the stores, or the tourist traps, but just watching the people.

  If being a mutant had given him any kind of inferiority complex, watching people was good therapy. He looked back at the theater and saw a woman shaped like a fireplug staring at him as she walked by. He just smiled sweetly at her and batted his eyes. She looked aghast, quickly wheeled, and walked away.

  Angelo turned back to the railing and looked out at the mall, laughing. “The little people. They don’t know they’re ugly. That’s funny.”

  Jono looked down at the park. “They look like ants.” “Maybe they are ants.” He leaned way over the railing. “I wonder if I could spit and hit that guy on the head?”

  He laughed. “Angelo, don’t!”

  “You don’t think I’ll do it?”

  “Don’t!”

  He leaned over, made a sound in his throat. “I’m telling you, I’ll do it!”

  “No, I mean it’s not fair.” He pointed at his face, or lack of one.

  Angelo leaned back and laughed. “Sorry, m’man.” As he leaned back, he spotted a security guard giving them an icy stare. He took Jono by the arm. “Come on, man, let’s ride. Some things, they never change.”

  As they sat down at the restaurant, Sean noticed the small jewelry store bag Emma was carrying. “Get me a gift, did you?”

  Emma raised an eyebrow and looked at him with mock indignation. “Sean Cassidy, here in America we have for some time had this thing called the twentieth century, and in it, it is perfectly acceptable for a woman to buy herself a diamond if she so desires.”

  “So something is bothering you.”

  She frowned. “And how would you know?”

  “Every time since I’ve known you that you’ve bought yourself jewelry, something was eating at you.”

  She stared at him for a while, then nodded. “I’ll never get over these tricks that nontelepaths use to get inside each other’s heads. I’m trying, but frankly I don’t know if I’ll ever get the hang of it.”

  “I was a policeman for a long time. It’s a skill you learn. Aye, I’ve known some people who have a gift for it, but I’ve sometimes suspected that some of them were closet telepaths.” He looked at the bag. “May I?”

  She slid it over to him. He removed the long black velvet covered box and opened it. A silver bracelet ringed with small diamonds lay inside. “Very nice. Tasteful and understated, yet elegant.” He closed the box and returned it to her.

  “What you’re saying is, it shows restraint. I’m trying, Sean, 1 really am, in many ways.”

  “You’re worried about the kids?”

  A slight smile crept back onto her face. “You’re reading my mind again.”

  “You’ve been dancing around the thing since we sat down, talking about reading minds, and restraint in when to do it.” “This was supposed to be a vacation for them, and so far we’ve run into nothing but trouble, especially the terrorists at Seattle and Rushmore. It’s hard to see how they can’t be connected, and yet hard to see how they can be. And the children, they’ve been so withdrawn, riding in the boys’ rattletrap all the time. Perhaps the whole thing was a bad idea. We wanted to put them in touch with the outside world, but maybe we’ve shown them more of that world than they’re ready to see.” Sean considered mentioning that he’d discovered the kids listening to Walt Norman, but decided it would only put more ideas into her head. “They’re not children, Emma, almost adults some of them. These are dark days for mutants, but we can’t protect them forever. Perhaps that’s all the more reason to give them a taste of what’s out there, and give them a chance to handle it themselves. All in all, I’d say they’ve given a pretty good accounting of themselves.”

  A waiter came by and put leather-bound menus down in front of them. Sean flipped his open, but didn’t really look at it. “As for the terrorists, that bothers me, too, but try as I might, I can’t see the link between them and us. They’ve also struck elsewhere where we weren’t involved. Perhaps it’s no more than a coincidence.”

  “I wish I could believe that, Sean. I really wish I could.” And much as he wanted to believe it, too, his suspicious nature told him that she was right. “I think we should be keepin’ a much closer watch on the kids from here on out.”

  Jubilee sat on a bench watching the rivers of people flow by, an endless parade of bad hair, worse fashion sense, and people for whom life had no more meaning than a mass-produced ceramic angel. And the really, really horrible thing was, she envied them their simple lives, their simple pleasures, their blissful blindness. Once upon a time she’d been blissfully blind, too, rollerblading around the local mall, security guards in hot pursuit, no concerns other than the immediate thrill and where the next one would come from.

  She’d seen this old movie once—most every mutant saw this one—about a guy who gave himself X-ray vision. His powers kept growing and growing, tearing his life a
part, even as he saw more and more, until finally he saw too much, and what he’d seen was too terrible to behold. Unable to stand it, he’d clawed his own eyes out.

  She shuddered as she thought about it, yet that cheesy old movie held a terrible fascination for mutants. And now, she thought she finally understood why. It wasn’t about powers or vision in the literal sense, but about understanding. Mutants couldn’t ignore the reality of the world, like the blissful masses. It reached out and slapped them in the face. Regularly. That was what Norman mistook for an agenda. It was just that day-to-day struggle to deal with a reality that others didn’t see.

  Paige came over with a cotton candy in her hand. She offered a bite to her, but Jubilee pushed it away. Paige examined the small stash of shopping bags tucked under Jubilee’s feet. “You’re not buying much. Do you have a stash in a locker somewhere?”

  Jubilee shook her head.

  Paige leaned closer, put a hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong, girlfriend?”

  She shrugged. “I just guess I’m just like, not a mall rat anymore. It’s kinda stupid, but it feels like I’ve lost something.”

  Paige smiled sympathetically. “ ‘You can’t go home again.’ ”

  Jubilee chuckled. “Don’t tell me. You read that in a book somewhere, right?”

  Paige laughed. “It’s called growin’ up, girl, and don’t let anybody fool you. You lose a lot when you grow up. But you gain a lot too.” She reached over and gave Jubilee a friendly hug. ' ‘

  Jubilee hugged her back. “Thanks, Paige. Sometimes, you’re all right.”

  “Group hug,” Everett announced as he popped from behind them, a small shopping bag in hand. “Can anybody join?” He plopped down on the bench and pulled a clear plastic box from the bag. “Look at this! Limited edition replica of a ’65 Karmann-Ghia. Convertible.”

  She and Paige looked at each other and giggled.

  Everett looked up from his toy, puzzled. “What?”

  “Boys, on the other hand,” said Jubilee, “avoid the problems of growing up completely.”