X-Calibre Trilogy: Long Hard Road Out of Hell

I paced the floor of the living room, waiting for the host at the New York City stop to arrive. Esther sat in one of the armchairs with a book in her lap, reading calmly. I took in the luxurious surroundings – walls lined with leather-bound volumes, overstuffed couches and chairs, a handful of mahogany tables scattered throughout . . .

“Esther!” The doors to the room burst open, admitting a middle-aged man of Aryan perfection: fair skin, fair hair, and light blue eyes. His tailored clothing was every bit as rich as his surroundings. “Esther, darling, they told me you were intercepted weeks ago!”

“Hello, Dorian!” she embraced him and exchanged pecks on cheeks. “Yes, I was, but Nightcrawler here was good enough to help change that.”

I stopped pacing and regarded Dorian silently, gauging his reaction to me. He appeared unfazed and extended his hand.

“So you’re Nightcrawler,” he smiled as we shook our introductions. “Yes, MAbigAbigail sent word about you with her conductors. She rather fancies you, I think.”

“Oh, really?” I raised an eyebrow. “Just what did she have to say?”

“To remember that appearances can be deceiving and to please extend our hospitality if ever you came to call.” His eyes swept the room. “Where is Miriam? Mama said you were traveling together.”

“Heidelmann’s taken her overseas,” Esther spoke up.

“Oh my word,” Dorian’s hand went to his throat. “How very dful!ful! You must tell me everything over dinner.”

It seemed to me that Dorian must be in good standing with the Nazis to live in such opulence. We were served a formal meal of several courses, all brought out by serv, an, and supplied with an endless flow of fine wine. Esther trusted our host enough to grow drowsy from drink but I politely declined past the second glass. As we ate I told Dorian of our travels until the Nazis found us, omitting any mention of the complexities of our acquaintance; Esther then described how this man Heidelmann had interviewed Miriam before having her transferred into his possession and put on an airplane with him to Germany.

Dorian approached me later that night after Er har had excused herself to bed. I’d taken a seat in the library to tend to my weapons; he took a seat opposite the low table from me and offered me a drink. I declined and watched from the corner of my eye as he poured one for himself.

“You’re quite fond of Miriam,” he replaced the stopper into the mouth of the decanter.

“What makes you think that?” I kept my eyes on my sword as I sharpened it.

“No one would go after someone as you did unless that person were of import.” He gestured gracefully with his tumbler of bourbon. “Do you intend to track her still?”

“I’m thinking about it,” I tried to sound neutral.

“Ah, well, there is a lot to consider, after all.” He took a sip of his drink. “Not the least of which is passage to Europe. I could help you with that – if you choose to go, of course.”

I looked up from my work. He was gazing back languidly from over the rim of the tumbler. “What sort of help are you offering?”

“I could convince a good friend of mine to allow you passage aboard his ship. He routinely makes merchant runs to Spain, you see.”

“Nothing is without its cost,” I sheathed one sword and began working on the other.

“This is true, and the Underground owes you for retrieving Esther and escorting her safely back. She’s one of our best guides, you know.”

I pondered this for a moment, polishing the steel silently.

“Of course, you may decide to stay on this side of the pond,” Dorian spoke again in the same lazy way. “If so, I hope you’ll consider joining our effort. I hear you make an excellent conductor.”

I couldn’t sleep that night and so I laid awake on the bed, staring at the ornately-patterned ceiling. I tried to reason with myself concerning where I would go and what I would do. My mind said to Hell with this resistance and keep going to Canada. I could make my life there and never be bothered by anyone again. I wouldn’t have to fight, I wouldn’t have to be stared at or run from. So many times during so many missions I’d longed for such an opportunity, so why not take it? But my heart responded powerfully, magnifying its unease until I couldn’t deny it anymore and was forced to confront myself. It wasn’t that I wanted to be alone and a recluse hiding from the world, I reflected. What I really wanted was to be accepted for who I was by those around me. I wanted to peacefully co-exist; I wanted to see Magneto’s inherited Dream thrive. So what if this hadn’t been my world before? Like it or not, this was my world now. Even if I had a way to traverse realities, the one I’d come from no longer existed. I smiled faintly at the memory of my mom singing some song about that while hanging the wash years and years ago – what were the words? “You can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave”? That was my situation; denying itldn’ldn’t help anything.

Okay, so what then? If I couldn’t be at ease with running and hiding, and I couldn’t abide by the laws of this land, I was by default a part of the resistance. I’d be risking my life every day to do whatever work I chose to take on, so why not risk everything to find Miriam? But why Miriam, I argued with myself. What was it about her that compelled me to go after her? I shuffled through the last two months or so and tried to find the reason. She was pleasant and witty company; she had integrity and honor; she had a good balance of toughness and compassion. She wasn’t at all hard on the eyes, as dad would have said, and she felt so good lying next to me on the few occasions when that had happened. I tried to dismiss my drive to follow her as lusting after her, but that wasn’t it either . . . it was more than that. Finally the epiphany came to me. Most of my life I’d always felt homesick for something I couldn’t define; at times I’d thought it might have been peace in life, but we’d never had that, not really. There were plenty of times growing up that our neighbors tried to run us out of town because of our genes – my childhood had been anything but peaceful. It was the stability I craved. She’d been with me from the first moment I set foot in this world, and she’d made the decision to befriend me when she could have just as easily been pissed off that I’d taken her hostage. She refused to be my victim from that first night at Mama Abigail’s and refused to be intimidated when I tried to shift the relationship back to the balance of power that lasted so briefly on the rooftops of Charleston. She seemed to see us as equals; judging from her reaction to my momentary loss of control the last time I saw her, it seemed she might have wanted us to be something else besides friends, too. That idea stirred something to life deep inside my defenses, something I wasn’t yet ready to admit to myself. But my decision had been made and I was at ease with it now. Weary from the hard traveling of the past days, I dropped into a deep slumber and slept in until lunch the next day.

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It was nearing one o’clock in the afternoon by the time I was washed and dressed and ready to rejoin my host. I found Dorian and Esther taking coffee together in the kitchen, engaged in a heated discussion.

“It’s absurd to say there’s no such thing as Evil!” Esther adjusted her grip on her mug and flared, “What do you call the Nazis?”

“I call them the ruling class,” Dorian responded with infuriating calm. “Good and Evil are abstract concepts; they are ideas. Ideas change from person to person, therefore there can be no concrete set of what defines those ideas. The parameters are simply too broad.”

I shook my head and poured a cup of coffee for myself, listening to Esther’s rebuttal. This was going to be amusing.

“No, they aren’t! There are certain things that every decent person finds wrong—“

“Another abstract,” Dorian interjected.

“—and would therefore be considered Evil,” Esther’s voice rose to drown out Dorian’s. “Murder is wrong. Rape is wrong. Theft is wrong.”

“Unless you’re a Nazi.”

“That’s why they’re Evil!”

“But they’re the majority. And according to your own definitions, it is the majority who sets the parameters concerning good and bad behavior. So which is it?”

“That’s not what I said.” Esther’s cheeks were red, her beverage forgotten for the moment. “I said nothing about a majority.”

I took one of the chairs from the table and placed it closer to the counter before sitting. Dorian waved his hello without breaking his stride. “So you’re telling me that most of the civilized world is morally bankrupt, then?”

“Yes.”

“Prove it.”

“Prove it??”

“Yes, prove it.” Dorian smiled genially and sipped his coffee. “History is written by those in power. The newspapers, the textbooks, the novels in the bookstores, the radio and picture stations, even our minds are ultimately shaped into the view the Nazis would have us see. So prove to me that you are right and so many others are wrong.”

“Just look at the opposition to Hitler in the Forties. The U.S., the U.K. Canada—“

“—Are all part of the Reich. Can you cite sources? Produce a photograph? Play an audio recording, perhaps?”

“You know as well as I do that they were all destroyed.” Esther’s face deepened in color as she realized the corner she was in.

I smiled behind the cup in my hands.

“Then how do you know that what you’ve heard is true? What is your verification?” Dorian tried to keep his face straight.

“Oh! You’re just impossible, Dorian!!” Esther turned her attention to me. “You understand what I’m saying, don’t you, Nightcrawler.”

“I see what you’re saying, Esther, but Dorian’s points are valid as well. It’s a terrible Catch-22 to do what we do.”

“Catch-22?” Dorian inquired politely; Esther didn’t seem to understand the phrase either.

“How do you say—“ I gestured impatiently as my mind translated, “—to be caught between the Devil and the deep blue sea. To choose the Nazis we are Evil to ourselves, but to choose to fight against them we are Evil to them and called terrorists. Who is right?”

“We are.” Esther’s eyes flashed fire.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because we have to live with ourselves,” she held my eyes.

I thought of something similar Mom said on the Avalon run about that, about how I didn’t know what she had to do to survive, and smiled sadly at the memory. “I respect that,” I said softly and stared into my mug, which prompted an uncomfortable silence among the three of us.

“So, um, you said you’re not from around here?” Esther addressed me again.

“No, I’m not,” I answered cautiously.

“Did you grow up in Germany?”

“Yes, I did.” No need to tell them it was on a different planet. I didn’t trust them enough for that, even though I couldn’t tell myself why it mattered one way or another. “My mother and I lived in the Black Forest for a time.”

“When did you come over?” Esther had finished her coffee and was pouring a refill.

I stopped to think about that. How old had I been? “About thirteen years ago,” I finally answered, shrugging.

“Which do you like better?” Esther asked.

“Ach, that’s like apples and oranges. If I went back now I wouldn’t recognize it.” I turned my attention back to Dorian. “I do, however, find myself homesick these days.”

Dorian smiled knowingly; Esther smiled too and excused herself to another part of the house so he and I could talk business.

“Mike’s next jaunt to Europe is in three days. He has no problem stowing you aboard so long as you keep a low profile.”

“Kein Problem [No problem],” I nodded. “He knows about my appearance?”

“And doesn’t care. For the right price Mike would kidnap the baby Jesus and hold him for ransom.” Dorian selected a cookie from the tray set out on the table.

“He’s a pirate, then.” I frowned – dealing with bartered loyalty was always dangerous.

“Oh, that’s such an ugly word!” He pulled a face. “We prefer the term ‘black market appropriators’. It’s much more respectable, don’t you think?” Dorian partook of his food and drink before continuing, “You’ve nothing to worry about, I assure you. He knows that if he crosses me I can ruin him in a day’s time, and he owes me for my assistance in straightening out a most unfortunate mistake that resulted in his arrest and the impounding of his fleet.”

I chuckled and held to my decision, much to Dorian’s delight. The three days wait was spent doing nothing productive; I spent most of it in the library or in my borrowed room with something taken from the library. I’d not realized how much I missed sitting down to a good book and made up for the years of going without written word by devouring one novel after another. I didn’t recognize it at first, but becoming engrossed in the parade of books kept my sanity in check by giving me something to think about besides her and what injustices Heidelmann might be inflicting upon her. Such distractions were not available once aboard the ship, however, and my dreamless sleep was the only respite from my overactive imagination.

I'd felt some hesitation about boarding Johnny's Ghost the first day because my last trip aboard a submarine did not go well, but the captain had taken me aboard before his crew arrived and allowed me to see first-hand that his modified U-boat was in top condition. Michael McMurray had chosen the unusual name to honor his older brother, who'd been shot dead some years ago over a woman's honor; Michael had been Jonathan's first mate and partner in crime many years beforehand. They'd managed through some sort of convoluted chicanery to appropriate the ship, keeping intact the designation as a friendly vessel and the existing weapons systems. They'd also added more firepower and converted portions inside to accommodate certain types of cargo. For this trip Herr Kapitan [Mister Captain] was hauling primarily recreational substances which he would barter for luxuries like rich fabrics, fine wine and liquor, and gold in various forms. I was the only human to be smuggled this trip, and so I had the secret cabin to myself.

"How are we holding up?" McMurray asked as he handed me the tray of food. I took the rations and he shut the door behind himself. "Good trip?"

"Not that good," I smiled, dipping one of the rock-hard biscuits into the tea. "I haven't touched your cargo."

McMurray laughed and hopped onto the top bunk. "You don't strike me as being that type."

"I'm not." I'd found that the best way to choke down these nearly-inedible biscuits was quickly; as soon as it reached a manageable consistency I ate it and started the next one.

"If it's too personal you can tell me to stow it, but why are you making this run alone?" He watched me eat. "Most refugees travel in groups, but you don't seem like the typical refugee."

I knocked back the last of the tea before answering. "If you can't see the obvious," I flicked my tail for emphasis, "theu neu need to stow it."

"Yeah, but why are you making the crossing?" he pressed.

Before I could tell him to mind his own business something else caught our attention. We felt the ship tremble before the lights flickered; McMurray was thrown from the bunk and I nearly lost my own balance.

"God damn it!" McMurray got to his feet and punched the intercom. "Franks! What the hell's going on?"

"We've been ID'd somehow, sir," the response crackled back. "They're dropping depth charges on us. No U-ies yet, but I'm sure that'll change."

I cursed under my breath.

McMurray headed for the bridge. "You're in this too," he gestured for me to follow. "Let's see what's going on."

"It's bad, sir," Franks glanced over his shoulder to address his captain once we arrived. "No direct damage yet, but the way they're dropping them we'll be sunk before we're to shore."

"How many ships?" We braced ourselves as another blast rocked the submarine.

"Two. They've radioed for the U-boats; ETA is in three," the woman in front of the communications board answered McMurray.

"This isn't good," he spoke softly; I could tell he was wracking his brains for a way out with minimum casualties.

"How far are we from land?" I asked the navigator, a skinny kid of no more than sixteen.

"We're fifteen miles off the coast," he glanced at me nervously. "But we won't get that far--"

"With your permission, Herr Kapitan?" I raised an eyebrow at McMurray; he nodded. "Get as close as you can as fast as you can without taking a direct hit."

"And do what??" Franks was incredulous.

"And get on your life jackets. We're going swimming."

Three hours later I was finally on the shore, gasping for air just as the crew of the ship was.

"How . . . did you . . . do that?" McMurray heaved in lungfuls of air and stared up at the sky.

"Do what?" I felt like a drowned cat and suspected I looked much the same – but I still had my life, armor, and swords. I wasn't goin sta start bitching now.

"That thing," he clapped his hands together. "When you got us out of range . . ."

"I could tell you but I'd have to kill you," I smiled wearily. "Rest assured, I'm feeling worse than any of you." I surrendered to gravity's call and stayed sprawled on the sand. "And it loses its novelty after a while."

"Hey, you're alr," ," the navigator gasped and tapped my shoul "W "What's your name?"

"Nightcrawler."

"I'm Roberts. I owe ya, man."

"Schmidt," another voice spoke up.

"Rohleder," communications introduced herself. The rest of the crew offered names despite their reservations about me – I was undoubtedly the weirdest-looking person they'd ever seen, but they all thanked me.

"They won't always be so bad . . ." Miriam's voice echoed in my memories, prompting a stab of mixed emotions that left a sick feeling in my stomach. I hoped she was okay; I devised yet another painful death for anyone who would dare abuse her.

"So, you're willing to brave explosions, the Naval fleet, and drowning to reach Europe," McMurray commented much later as we parted ways. "Whatever it is that brought you here, is it worth it?"

"Was it worth it to Johnny?" I smiled as much as I could with my worries.

McMurray clapped me on the back. "Good luck," he sighed before I set off on the long over-land trek to Berlin.