Collins, Missouri
by DuAnn Cowart
Standard disclaimers apply. Rated PG13 for language. I don't own 'em.
Acknowledgments: This was inspired in part by Alicia McKenzie's 'In The Still Of The Night', another Copycat story. It follows the Cable/Micronauts trilogy some few years ago, I can't remember what issues. Thanks to Alicia for betaing.
This snippet of story is written in order to stave off the flow of writing that perversely is haunting me now in the midst of SERIOUS study season. Sigh.
I have no idea if a real Collins, Missouri exists. If it does, and I have misrepresented it, I apologize.
"Good morning, Coach!" the tow-headed paperboy waved, tossing a rolled up paper expertly at the picture-perfect Midwestern small town home. "How's the team coming this year?"
"'Mornin', Billy," the dark-haired man smiled blearily, still clutching a cup of morning coffee in a tanned hand, "We're coming along just fine. McAllister's passing game is gettin' better every day, and looks like we've got a good chance of making state play offs this year."
"Glad to hear it!" Billy yelled over his shoulder, already on his way to the next home right down the idyllic residential street. "Tell Miss Mary I said hello!"
"Will do," Ted Johnson murmured, tucking the paper under one muscled arm as he stepped back inside the warm house, locking the screen door tightly behind him, pulling the unusually heavy oak door close behind him.
He walked through his nicely appointed foyer, through the fashionably furnished living room and into his bright yellow kitchen. He stopped at the perfectly arched doorway.
"Good morning, Gar," his wife beamed, pale hair shining as bright sunlight streamed in from a thick kitchen window to illuminate her in a nimbus of light. For a moment, he just stood there, awestruck, watching her, and was overcome by an immense feeling of gratitude.
With a start, he broke out of the spell and walked towards her, moving her away from the hot stove where perfectly shaped pancakes cooked on a brand new iron griddle. He stepped behind her, encircling her in his arms. Nuzzling her pointed ear, he ran a hand over her robed arm, whispering "Not Gar. Not Garrison. Ted, remember?"
Shivering, she raised her arms, stretching back to link her fingers behind his head, pulling him down to meet her lips. "I remember," she murmured, twisting around to press herself to him, and the rolled up paper dropped from his fingers. "Ted and Mary Johnson. I remember."
"Damn, I love you," he whispered, tipping her head back, staring down into her fathomless blue eyes. "So much. I don't know what I'd do if-"
She cut him off, an unreadable expression clouding her face. "No. None of that. Nothing's going to happen to us, not anymore. Nobody can find us here, *Ted*."
He smiled softly at her, raising curled fingers to gently brush her pale blue cheek. "You're right. We're finally out of it. No more battles, no more fighting, no more merc work. Nobody knows where we are- not Wade, not G.W., not even Cable. Hammer made sure of that."
With a hug, she reluctantly pulled away from him with a small smile. "The pancakes are burning."
"Can't have that, now, can we?" He grinned, stooping to pick up the newspaper.
"Nope. Pancakes don't burn in Collins, Missouri." Sitting the paper on a nearby counter top, he reached for her again.
"They will if you don't stop!" She laughed, easily twisting to elude his playful swipe. "Now *quit*, G- Ted, and let me finish these, unless you want Frosted Flakes again for breakfast!"
"I have no problem with Frosted Flakes," he told her earnestly, a smile on his face.
"Obviously. That's all we have when it's your turn to cook," she chuckled, expertly flipping flapjacks onto two elegantly patterned plates already loaded with bacon and sausage.
"Ah, so now you're complaining about my cooking! Only two months married, and the thrill is gone." He opened the refrigerator and took out a half empty carton of orange juice, pouring two glasses full. Glancing surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye, he raised the carton to his lips and took a long gulp.
"I saw that," she told him over her shoulder, trying to repress the smile that came unbidden to her features. She was here, in a lovely yellow kitchen in a wonderful small town with her handsome husband and perfectly done breakfast, and all was right with the world. Here, in this house, in this slice of paradise they'd carved out for themselves, all was well. There were no guns, no battles to be fault. No mercenaries, no spies, no ex lovers out for blood. No prostitution, no pain, no war. No Vanessa Carlyle, no Garrison Kane.
Only Ted and Mary Johnson, only sunlight and love. Even if he did drink right out of the carton.
"How? How did you see that?" He asked, honestly bewildered as he moved to the adjoining table. "I swear, do *all* women have the mutant gene that senses when male lips touch cartons or jugs?"
"Yes," she answered serenely. "You've discovered the ancient secret. Now sit. It's time to eat."
"Yes, ma'am," he muttered under his breath, and they proceeded to do just that.
An hour and a half later, after he'd showered and shaved and left for his new job as assistant football coach and civics teacher at Collins High School, she went through her morning ablutions as well. When she'd dressed, she came back downstairs and plopped down on her huge comfortable couch. Looking around the room at the muted hues and soft carpet, she put perfectly pedicured feet up on the matching coffee table and just marveled at how very *clean* everything looked.
Not like her childhood, not like her past, this place was clean and bright and happy. No iron-girded safehouse, no earthen basement. No dank castle turned fortress by the sea, no dirty little apartment stocked with firearms or johns. No, just a nice, comfortable middle class home, with a mailbox and a garden and a lawn that had be moved every two weeks.
Though with all the money she and Gar- Ted, she chided herself, had saved over the years they could have bought a mansion in California, they'd settled on this house smack dab in the middle of nowhere. Located in a tiny residential subdivision of tiny Collins, Missouri, the home Ted and Mary had selected was large enough to hold the house full of kids they planned and still unassuming enough not to warrant a second look in this neighborhood of equally well groomed spacious houses.
Hammer had been kind enough to help outfit them with the very best in home security, even though even he didn't know where they were. They'd made sure of that from the beginning. *Ted* had done the work himself, pulling out metal wiring and plating and armor from their moving boxes, and under the guise of renovations had installed a system worthy of the name.
Extra insulation had hidden titanium plating. Bullet proof transparent steel became storm windows. Regular floodlights and 'home security systems' hid the most advanced system Hammer could come up with. They were safe.
Safe. 'Mary' leaned back in her soft beige couch, looking up at the ceiling. Safe. They'd removed themselves from the rest of the world, left the fight to all those other poor fools who still chose to wear spandex and 'fight the good fight'.
She shook her head disdainfully and despite her best intentions, her mind wandered back to the life they'd left behind.
It'd only been a few short months ago that they'd truly left it behind. San Fransico. Where she'd met a thousand year old man and an alien, had shrunk smaller than an atom and traveled through innerspace. And had run into a man she had loved and a woman she had ruined, and had made the first steps in healing herself of the guilt of both. Though it was tough at first, Garrison had stood by her. She'd sacrificed herself for his love, and had been redeemed by it. She'd been healed. So they'd gone away, left that life and never looked back.
It was so very easy in Collins, Missouri, to not look back. Everything was so bright and sunny up ahead.
It was strange, she thought slowly, how life worked. How she would wind up happier than she had any right to be. Standing up, she crossed the wide room to stand in front of the fireplace, imagining all the nights to come of sitting in front of the fire, planning their dreams.
She studied the wedding portrait on the mantlepiece. Almost as an afterthought, she concentrated, and her skin paled and her hair darkened into a lovely shade of gold. Looking at the picture, she concentrated, and her features shifted slightly so that she matched the woman in the picture. It wasn't much of a change, really- more oval face, higher cheekbones, fuller lips- it wasn't a stretch. She could do it easily.
She'd chosen this face for just that reason, and had been perfecting it so that she could maintain it, hopefully, forever. . .
She took the wedding picture in her hands, studying it. In front of a church, the tall, extremely muscular man in the stylish tuxedo held hands with a pale, slender blonde woman in white. In white.
Her, in white. Just like every other young bride.
With a smile, she gently placed the frame back in its spot on the mantle. Picking up the remote control, she turned on the big screen TV, flipping channels past the sleazy talk shows until she came to an innocuous looking celebrity interviewing other innocuous looking celebrities.
After a few minutes of mindless entertainment, she yawned, feeling her skin still stretch strangely in this new form, but retain its shape. She smiled, pleased.
The show ended, and she stood, wandering into the kitchen to clean up the last of the morning dishes. She didn't start her new job until next week, and she was going to enjoy every spare moment of free time until then.
Noticing the still rolled up newspaper, she picked it up and sat down at the table to read it. Slipping off the rubber band that held it tight, she unrolled the paper and opened the front page of the Collins Observer, the town's bi-weekly newspaper.
The headline was something to do with local elections, and she smiled to herself. Ted had talked with some of the other teachers at school, and had formed some interesting opinions about some of the local candidates.
She continued skimming the article, smiling to herself. The smile froze when she got to the bottom of the page and saw the caption of a small article underneath.
MUTANTS RIOT IN MINNEAPOLIS, 12 KILLED. RENEWED OUTCRY FOR REGISTRATION LAWS.
Blood freezing in her veins, she dropped the paper as if burned. Picking it slowly up, she threw it in the trash, and unconsciously turned to the sink to wash her hands.
Shivering, she looked out of the window and pasted a broad smile on her face. She consciously pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind. That sort of stuff might happen in New York or Chicago or Los Angeles, but not here.
Not here. Things like that didn't happen in Collins, Missouri. She took a deep breath, and stood up straight, walking back into the living room and back to her perfect life.
And outside the morning sun shone happily down on a neighborhood of little yellow houses set like perfect jewels in a sea of green velvet.
-DuAnn
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give unto you. Not as the world gives, give I unto you. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. -John 14:27