“It was an emergency,” Santo replied.
“Where did you even put her down?”
“Further north, in a corn field. The automated systems are engaged should anything threaten it.”
“First a fanatical religious cult, now crop circles,” Vic said. “The people of Fairbury really are going to think the world’s coming to an end. How did you know where to find me anyway? At Roundaway’s, I mean?”
“The school provided me with your address. I went there first, but it’s toast. Your neighbors were good enough to speak to me. They said you’d last been seen making a break for it with your parents into town. I figured if you’d gone to ground it’d probably be somewhere near that café you never stopped talking about.”
“Miss Trimble and Roundaway’s have saved me yet again,” Vic said. “Except this time without coffee. We’re going to need to detour though. We have to pick up my mom.”
“Is she nearby?”
“Near enough. And after that we need to go get my dad.”
“He’s been separated from your mother?”
“They took him,” Vic said, an abrupt rush of frustration coloring his voice. “Xodus and his goons. I don’t know where, but I have to get him back.”
“The priority is clear,” Santo responded. “Remove yourself and your mother from Fairbury to safety.”
“I’ll take you to my mom, but I’m not going without my dad.”
“You’ve already admitted you don’t know where he is. We will find him, but we cannot do that today.”
“Your orders are to get me back to school, aren’t they?” Vic demanded.
“You and your family, yes. I swear to you that we will find your father, but that’s impossible while the Purifiers infest this town.”
“I’ll hold you to that promise, Rocky,” Vic said as shouting broke out back along the street they’d just left. A crowd of figures had spilled around the corner, an unkempt collection of brutes in old fatigues or dirty shirts, some clutching rudimentary weapons like crowbars and clubs, others tooled up with firearms. A cry went up from their midst as they caught sight of Santo and Vic reaching the edge of town.
“I hope you can move faster than this, lizard boy,” Santo grumbled.
“C’mon, Rocky,” Vic said, flashing a smile up at his old roommate. “Don’t you know me? Try and keep up.”
Together, they began to run.
Chapter Twelve
They managed to shake the Purifiers after crossing the highway, and doubled back to the edge of town. Vic led Santo into the forest north of his home, and then to the base of the treehouse.
“We have to leave, Mom,” he told Martha after scaling his way to the treehouse’s platform. She’d been asleep and looked exhausted.
“What’s happened?” she asked, clearly confused. Vic crouched in front of her, trying to smile reassuringly while stressing the need for urgency.
“Help has arrived,” he said, and steadied her as she rose to her feet before guiding her out onto the platform. “You remember my friend Santo, from the Institute?”
Rockslide stood at the base of the tree. He waved up at them both. Martha gasped at the sight of the hulking, stony figure.
“He’s an X-Man,” Vic reassured her. “A fully-fledged one. He’s got transport out of town. We just have to get to it before the Purifiers catch up with us.”
“What about your father?” Martha asked, looking at Vic.
“I’m going to find him,” he told her, his voice firm. “But first I’ve got to make sure you’re safe. The sooner we do that, the better.”
He descended the tree alongside Martha as she clambered down the ladder. Once she stood on solid ground, she gazed up at Rockslide’s intimidating bulk.
“A pleasure to meet you again, Mrs. Borkowski,” Santo said with a smile, holding out one slab-like hand. “I’m afraid Vic’s going to have to lead us out of here. I’ve never had a good head for directions in a forest. Cliffs and mountainsides are more like home for me.”
Martha let out a little laugh, clearly not sure if he was joking or not, but took his hand anyway. Vic would’ve found the sight of the mismatched handshake endearingly funny, had time not been so pressing.
He guided them through the woodland, aiming for the Blackbird’s location. If the Purifiers found the jet before they could reach it, the game would be up. He pushed Martha as hard as he dared, trying not to think about worst-case scenarios.
They emerged into the fields north of Fairbury. Santo then directed them, following his communicator. It was slower going than Vic would’ve liked, mainly due to the difficulty of forcing their way through the thick corn fields. Santo took the lead, his unyielding bulk snapping stalks and forging them a path.
“We’re getting close,” he said as they walked through an open gate into another field. They’d barely crossed the boundary before Vic heard a sound that made his blood run even colder than usual.
Dogs. He could make out the distant noise of barking.
“Many of the local farmers have dogs?” Rockslide asked, almost casually.
“How far’s the Blackbird?” Vic responded.
“A few more fields over.”
“Then we’d better run.”
They took off again, Vic sticking beside Martha. She was faltering, and Vic felt a rising panic threatening to overtake him. The snarls of the dogs grew louder, a reminder that they were now prey being hunted by an enemy that was both merciless and unrelenting.
“I’m just slowing you down,” Martha panted as she struggled through the corn, red-faced. “Let them take me!”
“No,” Vic said bluntly, glancing back over his shoulder. He could see the stalks on the edge of the field they’d just passed through twitching as though something pushed after them. The dogs’ yapping was clearer now, making Vic’s skin crawl.
“We’re going to carry you, Mom,” he told Martha, before calling ahead to Santo. “Rocky, can you give her a lift?”
The big X-Man obliged, scooping Martha easily up off her feet. Apparently uninhibited by his new charge, he set off across the field once more.
The Blackbird was now partially visible, its sleek, gleaming black shape incongruous amidst the expanse of gently nodding, golden corn husks. They kept going, scaling a wire fence. Vic glanced back again, catching dark shapes forging after them. They were gaining ground.
The Blackbird sat ahead now, the corn around it flattened in a near-perfect circle. Rockslide had already triggered the hatch ladder as they ran to it. He set Martha down beneath it. “Can you climb?” he asked.
“Yes,” she managed to gasp.
Rockslide scaled the ladder up into the S-70. Martha followed, while Vic waited on the flattened corn and glanced back in desperation. He could discern the shouts of Purifiers now, as feral sounding as the racket of their hounds. A flat crack echoed out over the farmland, and he realized someone had discharged a weapon. It was followed by a few more, in rapid succession. He thought they were warning shots, until he heard a ping and realized a bullet had ricocheted off the nose of the Blackbird above him.
He crouched down instinctively, his heart racing with the sort of skin-crawling fear and adrenaline that only being shot at could produce. Martha had made it into the cockpit. Rockslide activated the flier’s engines, a low whine beginning to build in the pollen-heavy air. Vic leapt onto the ladder and scaled it quickly as more gunfire rang out.
He emerged into the Blackbird’s cockpit. Rockslide and Martha were already strapped in, the latter in the right-hand copilot’s seat. Vic took the remaining space, buckling up as Rockslide’s heavy hands manipulated a flurry of switches and controls.
“We’re going up vertical,” he said as Vic heard a series of small, clattering noises, and realized bullets were rebounding from the cockpit visor and the fuselage. A mob of Purifiers sur
ged through the corn less than a hundred yards away now, their baying audible over the rising fury of the Blackbird’s engines.
He forced himself to check his own flight display, motions mimicking Rockslide’s as he tried to recall his training.
“You know how to fly one of these?” Martha asked him, her tone a mixture of shock and awe.
“Kinda,” Vic responded. “I’ve passed my theory test. But if it makes you feel any better, Rocky definitely knows how to.”
Santo merely grunted, easing up on the flight stick. The aircraft shuddered and began to rise.
“Hope you’re both buckled up,” he said as the speed of their ascent rapidly increased, the field beneath them dropping way. The farmland spread out beneath them in a patchwork of browns, greens and golds. It would’ve been an enjoyable vista if bullets hadn’t been raking the S-70’s underbelly.
“Punching it,” Santo said, and opened the throttle. Sudden, vicious acceleration pushed Vic back into his seat and made his stomach lurch. The sky beckoned out beyond Fairbury; the Purifiers left impotent far below. The last sight he caught before they arrowed across the town was gray smoke, still coiling lazily from among the trees where his home had once stood.
Chapter Thirteen
“Mr Summers will see you now.”
Vic looked up at Miss Fullerton and nodded. He had been sitting on a bench in the hallway outside the principal’s office for the past ten minutes. Rockslide had been next to him the whole time – standing, likely for fear of breaking the seating – but neither had spoken since getting there. Vic was trying to play it cool. He knew what was coming.
He stood and followed the school secretary into Mr Summers’ office. Despite the school’s militaristic past, the room felt as though its function had remained largely unchanged down the years. There were a few concessions to something more than the brute utility of the rest of the Institute – the lower halves of the wall were paneled with dark, varnished wood, and a nondescript, hard-wearing blue carpet covered the floor. Filing cabinets occupied the right-hand side of the space, while directly across from the door sat a hefty, imposing desk set beneath a large photo of the current school cohort.
Cyclops was sitting waiting beneath the image. He had presumably either just been, or was just going to, the Danger Room, as he was dressed in the stark black and yellow of his X-uniform. He was in many ways the image of the all-American male – tall, handsome in a square-jawed sort of style, broad-shouldered without being too bulky. The only incongruence was, of course, the visor he was forced to wear to keep his powers in check. Vic knew it didn’t bother the other students, but to him it felt as though the ruby quartz seemed to buzz a perpetual, angry shade of red, glaring down at him with the promise of total annihilation were it ever to be removed. It was the sort of power he was truly thankful he didn’t possess.
“Welcome, gentlemen,” Cyclops said, indicating the leather-backed chairs set before the desk. “Please, take a seat.”
Vic did so, while Santo stood off to one side. Miss Fullerton exited with the silent grace of an experienced secretary, offering Vic a reassuring smile as she passed. As the door clicked quietly shut, Cyclops cleared his throat.
“Let me begin by saying that I’m extremely thankful to have you back, Victor,” he said. “You, and your mother.”
“All thanks to Rocky here,” Vic said, nodding towards Santo. The words were earnest and genuine. They’d gotten back to the Institute the night before, piloted in by Rockslide in the Blackbird. Martha had been taken to the school infirmary, where she’d been treated for a minor concussion. Apparently after clashing with the police, Xodus had withdrawn from Fairbury but he’d left behind “covert” groups of Purifiers to continue the hunt. Vic had slept fitfully in the chair next to her after learning this, refusing to go back to his room. His parents had been to the Institute before on a few occasions to visit him, but Vic imagined it would still appear a grim and unfamiliar place to his mother, full of strange people.
The next morning Martha seemed more herself. She tersely ordered Vic to go and shower and demanded to know when he’d last eaten. Thoroughly chastised, he’d slunk off to the washing blocks and then the canteen. There, Rockslide had found him and told him the principal wanted to see him.
“Have you thought about your next steps, Victor?” Cyclops asked, his expression giving nothing away. The visor meant that Vic found it almost impossible to read him, especially when he was wearing his school principal persona. He shrugged. This was it, and they all knew it. He wasn’t going to play games and attempt to deny anything.
“I’m going back out to find my father,” he said.
“I suspected that would be the case,” Cyclops replied, his tone measured. “And I hope you understand me when I say I can’t allow that to happen.”
Here were go, Vic thought. Don’t get mad. Just tell him the truth.
“I can’t stay,” he said.
“The wellbeing of your father is of deep concern to everyone at the Institute,” Cyclops said. “I assure you that we are considering every means of locating and rescuing him.”
“You have no idea where he is,” Vic said. “So just admit that for a start. And perhaps you can tell me what ‘every means’ is? Because that sounds like a throwaway phrase I’d use if I just wanted to placate somebody.”
“I am in touch with my colleagues outside of the Institute,” Cyclops said.
“You mean the X-Men?” Vic pushed. “From what I’ve heard, they don’t exactly have the time to run around after one kid’s missing dad. How soon do you think any of them will be able to divert from their current duties?”
“I’m still waiting for a response,” Cyclops admitted. Vic felt his heart sink. As much as he’d been expecting the worst and acting accordingly, a part of him had hoped that there would be an instant reaction from the team beyond the Institute. It didn’t look like that would be the case.
“Then you have to understand why I need to go,” he said, meeting Cyclops’ burning red glare. “Every minute we sit here is another minute my father is in the hands of those madmen. You expect me to stay in the Institute while I know he’s out there somewhere? What’s my mother supposed to do? You think she isn’t worried sick as well?”
“Would your mother want you out there risking your life, alone, for your father?” Cyclops countered. “I understand this must be extremely difficult for you, Victor, but you don’t have a choice. You have no leads and no backup. There’s nothing you can realistically do.”
“Only if you refuse to offer me any help,” Vic snapped, his temper fraying despite his best efforts. “The Institute has systems with full access to the old X-Mansion’s databases. You could tell me where the next Purifier rallies are being held, the probable identities of their leaders, the known locations of their safehouses and bases of operation. You could work it all out. Instead we’re sitting here, having a pointless argument and wasting time!”
“I’ll go,” Santo said before Cyclops could respond. They both looked up at him.
“Assign me to find Victor’s father, Principal Summers,” the giant continued. “I will retrieve him from the Purifiers and bring him safely here. Immediately.”
Cyclops was silent, pondering the suggestion. He looked back at Vic, that brilliant, unblinking visor burning into him. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “You can’t go with him.”
Vic started to protest, but Cyclops cut through.
“I’m not just doing this to spite you, Victor. Since you left the entire school has gone into lockdown. The attack on your home was the last straw. The Purifiers know of the Institute’s existence, and they’re deliberately targeting students. I have recent graduates currently escorting those classmates of yours who are still absent straight back here. We are at war, and with Miss Frost absent I am responsible for the safety and wellbeing of each and every one of you. I do n
ot – cannot – take that duty lightly.”
Vic glowered back at the ruby visor unflinchingly. He’d already been told about the lockdown by Santo. It didn’t surprise him. The Purifier attacks were definitely targeted. Whether there was a purpose to them beyond their own bigotry though, Vic didn’t know. It just made finding his father all the more vital.
“I made a promise,” Santo said, looking at Vic. “A promise that I would find your father. I will fulfill it. Trust me on that.”
“I trust you, Rocky,” Vic admitted, not taking his eyes off Cyclops. “I just want to be the one to go with you.”
“Not this time,” Cyclops said, shaking his head. “You’re not ready yet, Victor, and even if you were, I wouldn’t permit you to go with Santo. You’re too close to this. There’s a drastic risk that your emotions will get people hurt.”
“The only ones getting hurt will be Xodus and his cult,” Vic said viciously.
“I’ll leave immediately,” Santo said, “and update you both via communicator whenever I have the opportunity.”
“Which reminds me,” Cyclops said, opening a desk drawer and removing a small package. “Santo tells me you lost your phone during the Purifier attack, Victor? I’ve had a reserve communicator rewired to full functionality. You can use it until you’re able to get a replacement. It’ll let you and Santo maintain contact, should either of you need it. It may well assist his search, and perhaps help ease your mind.”
Vic took the package and unwrapped it, finding one of the glossy black, spherical X-communicators inside. A churlish part of him wanted to reject it, but he overcame the urge. If this was how it was going to be, he’d need a line of contact. He nodded.
“Santo, I will furnish you with what intelligence we’ve collated before you leave,” Cyclops said. “Once you’re out in the field, I expect regular updates. Consider this your first solo assignment.”
Rockslide nodded, and Vic felt a surge of pride. Having Santo looking for his father was better than having any of the older X-Men on the case – the big guy knew what it meant to him. Vic had no doubt he’d go to the ends of the earth if he had to.
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