Habitats of a Beast - Part One

by Khaki


Ford Windstar Minivan, Yukon, Canada

Climbing into the minivan was like traversing a door into summer. It couldn't be that hot in here, but the difference in temperatures was so startling that I had the immediate urge to at least peel off my cap and gloves. I couldn't do that, though. What if my suspicions about the woman weren't correct and she was just a human with unusual hair? What if she was a mutant but was passing as a normal human and her companion didn't know? What if she was a mutant but would be repelled by the severity of my mutation? I couldn't take the risk that I'd be thrown back out into the cold.

As I settled down into the chair closest to the sliding door and put my bookbag down on the floor, I noticed that the woman was pulling on gloves. This action wouldn't have seemed unusual, given the cold air I'd let in, if they were normal winter gloves. They weren't. I must admit that my knowledge of fabrics and women's fashions is extremely limited, but it was obvious to me that these were thin dress gloves, made of a fabric similar to satin or silk.

That was odd, but my benefactors' next reactions to my presence were even more curious. When I slid the door closed and settled back into my seat, fastening a seatbelt, the man spoke.

"Where ya headed, kid?"

"Alaska, sir," I replied, careful to keep my mouth covered and my fangs hidden.

The man gave me an amused expression, left eyebrow cocked and head tilted to one side. What did I say to garner that expression?

"Name's Logan."

Ah, he must not be accustomed to being addressed so formally.

"A pleasure, Mr. Logan," I replied. "I am Beast."

His eyes narrowed and his lips pursed tightly around his cigar. Should I not have called him Mister? Is Logan his first name? Whatever I'd done wrong, he shrugged it off.

"Good to meetcha, kid. This is my wife," he said, indicating the woman in the passenger's seat. "R..."

"Marie," she interrupted, turning around in her seat and flashing me the most friendly smile I've seen in months, perhaps years. She reached out her glove covered hand, and I took it, shaking it firmly.

My lips turned up in a smile that I almost forgot to cover, but after months of less than pleasant experiences upon revealing my unusual incisors, I clamped my left hand around my mouth just in time.

"A pleasure," I mumbled and released the handshake to settle back in the chair.

After an uncomfortable pause obviously caused by my brusque ending to our introductions, Logan turned the van back onto the roadway and we proceeded East, away from my planned destination.

"So, sugah. You hungry?"

Am I hungry? Are there 27 bones in the human hand?

"I..." I started to say, but then my stomach interrupted me, growling pathetically.

"Sounds like you are," Marie said with an understanding smile. "There's a bag of pretzels, some beef jerky, and a few bottles of water in that bag over there," she said signalling under the seat beside me. I wasted no time reaching under and finding the food.

I'd unfastened the twist tie around the pretzel bag and was about to reach in when she said, "You can take off your gloves."

I looked up at her and then looked down at my, quite frankly, filthy gloves. I didn't blame her for objecting to my actions. I would comment too if someone was about to handle my food with unsanitary gloves.

For a moment, I thought about putting the pretzels back, explaining that I really wasn't hungry, but she'd heard the proof of my empty stomach already. I decided to pour out some pretzels into my lap and then return the twist tie.

"I... I'm still cold," I said, explaining my refusal to remove my gloves and hoping that she wouldn't ask more questions.

After a few minutes during which I ate the first non-soggy, non-garbage food I'd had in months, Marie changed the subject, saying, "So, Alaska. We just came from there."

"Indeed?" I responded, turning the word up into an unasked question.

"It's beautiful, really. We've visited a few times. Why were you headed there, sugah? Visiting family?"

"No."

Why had I chosen Alaska? I could have stopped anywhere along the way as the weather turned colder and summer gave way to fall and winter. Perhaps it was just the fact that I'd decided to go there so many months before, a destination turned an obsession.

"Oh." Marie commented, pulling me out of my reverie, and making me realize that I had not expounded on my reasoning.

"When I was seventeen, I headed to Alaska," she said. "I thought it'd be some great adventure. Didn't make it through Alberta, though, before I met Logan."

She was traveling on her own through Canada at seventeen? Perhaps her birthday is later in the year and she graduated from high school before turning eighteen. It could have been a graduation trip before college. Still, that rationalization does not seem correct given the fact that her cheerful voice has turned melancholy.

Wait a moment. She met her husband at seventeen?

"How long have you been married?" I asked impertinently before I could stop myself.

"Ten years, four months, and eleven days," Logan answered without taking a second to perform the calculations. "Not nearly long enough."

Marie's expression turned so gentle and loving at his answer. She unfastened her seatbelt and leaned over to give him a kiss on his side burns.

My parents were never so openly affectionate. It's not that I don't believe they loved each other. It's just that I never saw that love expressed either in public or private. For one moment, watching these two people, I wanted that. I wanted parents who would show me love and affection so freely. Who would hug me without my having to ask. Who would give me a kiss, just because. I was immediately jealous of their children.

"Ten years... How many children do you have?"

I was simply trying to keep the conversation going, trying to find out more about the people who had so generously given me a ride, but as soon as the words left my mouth, I realized that was the worst question I could have asked.

Marie flinched as if from a physical blow, and Logan actually lost control of the vehicle for a moment. As he regained control, Marie moved back into her seat and refastened her seatbelt. I caught a glimpse of her eyes, glistening with unshed tears as she repositioned her body, and felt instant remorse for bringing up what was so obviously a painful subject.

I immediately apologized, but the harm had been done.

**********

We rode in silence for about an hour, the snow storm growing worse around us. Soon, it was snowing so hard that I couldn't see a few feet past the windshield. Logan had turned on the headlights, and they illuminated the snow riding the minivan's aerodynamic currents so that they looked more like stars passing a space ship at light speed than snowflakes.

Entertaining as this illusion was, when I contemplated the fact that we were driving on a road that could curve or twist at any moment and we wouldn't know until we crashed, I began to sincerely wish that Logan would stop.

"Logan, pull over," Marie said, breaking the silence that had become almost palpable among us.

"We're almost there."

"You're barely going thirty and we can't see two feet in front of us. Just stop."

With a sigh, he acquiesced and the minivan slowed and pulled over to the side of the road to stop. Logan shut off the engine, undid his seatbelt, and turned around. "So what now?"

"Now," Marie answered, "we go to sleep for the night."

"This isn't exactly a Jeep or a SUV, Marie. We can't move the seats and lie down. Why couldn't Chuck get us what we'd asked for?"

"Because there was no time and we had to take what the rental company had."

"We shoulda tried other companies."

"Would you have rather missed..." Marie looked back at me and lowered her voice to continue her sentence, "our appointment?"

Looking abashed, Logan responded, "No, darlin'. You're right. We'll make do."

"I'll get the blankets," Marie said, unhooking her seatbelt and climbing into the back with me. She passed me and kneeled on top of the last row of seats, pulling out one of the suitcases stored back there.

"You packed blankets?" Logan asked with an almost chuckle.

"I remember how cold it gets up here," she explained, opening the suit case and pulling out at least four blankets.

"Have I told you, 'I love you,' darlin'?"

"Not for a few hours."

"I love ya."

"I love you, too." Marie said, a smile gracing her features for the first time since my unintentional faux pas. "So, how're we going to do this?"

Marie looked around the interior of the minivan with a discerning eye and then stated, "Ok, Logan. You and I have to sleep up front and recline our seats." When his features fell into a decided pout, she added. "Aw, babe, I know, but we won't fit anywhere else. Tomorrow we'll get a hotel room." She turned back to me. "Sugah, you lay down along the back seats. It's a bit wider than this middle row, although not by much. If you get really uncomfortable, I suppose you could lay down on the floor."

Her tone seemed almost apologetic. They were giving me a ride, doing me a favor, probably saving my life. Why did she feel the need to apologize? This seat would be much more comfortable than most of the places I've slept since leaving home.

"Thank you. I'm sure that it will be more than adequate."

She gave me two of the four blankets and moved back up front to sit next to Logan.

I took off my shoes, but otherwise stayed dressed as I laid down on the cramped seat. The storm outside was quickly cooling the interior of the minivan, but the two blankets more than made up for the lack of heat.

Tomorrow, we would reach a town and I would have to find a ride heading back to Alaska. Tonight, though, I enjoyed the rare comfort of a clean place to sleep and warm blankets.


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