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[MOVIEVERSE] "Razor" - Prologue 1982 - R

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  • Dex
    Razor Prologue 1982 by Dex All recognizable characters and settings belong to Marvel and 20th Century Fox; I am using them without permission but mean no
    Message 1 of 1 , Apr 13, 2002
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      "Razor" Prologue 1982
      by Dex

      All recognizable characters and settings belong to Marvel and 20th Century
      Fox; I am using them without permission but mean no harm and am making no
      profit. The plot and original characters, however belong to me. Any and all
      feedback is appreciated at dexf@.... Redistribution of this tale
      for profit is illegal. Please do not archive this story without contacting
      me first to obtain my permission.

      Many thanks to Minisinoo, Donna Maynard and Epona Harper for betareading
      and technical assistance.


      WESTBOUND I95, BALTIMORE: 1982

      "You'd think that they at least would know which side of the road to drive
      on." Nate groused, and his wife laughed delightedly beside him. The velvet
      darkness of the water caught the flares from the lights as they sped down
      the highway. The traffic was light, uncommonly so for the busy road, and
      the car seemed wrapped in a bubble of silence; isolated from the world
      beyond the windows.

      "Nate, you're such a snob sometimes."

      "Beck, if they feel the need to reverse perfectly sensible driving laws to
      suit their colonial tastes, then they could at least have the common
      courtesy to follow them." Nate grinned, his teeth very white against his
      short black beard.

      "Of course, baby." Rebecca twisted in her seat to look at their son, locked
      into the carrier in the back seat of the car. "He's asleep."

      "Considering the amount of crab he inhaled, it's not surprising." Nate
      grinned again, easing his new Corvette around a lumbering Buick and leaping
      forward to pass it.

      "The fresh seafood food was lovely. Certainly better than Dover or Brighton."

      "True." The young couple had spent the evening at a small restaurant on the
      Chesapeake Bay, gorging themselves on the steamed soft-shelled crab for
      which the region was famous for, and celebrating their move to Maryland
      from their cramped flat in North Camden. Nate's appointment to a research
      position in the genetics labs at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore had been the
      break that they had both worked for so long.

      Nate patted his wife's leg, then smiled as she snatched his hand and moved
      it up to her crotch.

      "Beck, the baby— "

      "Might want a little sister." She grinned mischievously. "What do you
      think, Doctor?" Her curly dark hair tumbled around her shoulders, and when
      he looked over at her, Nate thought his heart would burst, loving her so much.

      "I think I need to schedule an examination." He pronounced it ‘shed-dual'
      with the crisp Oxford accent that was calculated to make American nurses
      melt. "A very thorough examination, I think."

      "Ooh..." Rebecca mock shivered. "I can't wait."

      "I just hope our Adam decides to sleep through the night." Nate said,
      motioning with his chin to the slumbering child strapped into the car seat
      in the cramped rear of the car.

      "He'd better." Rebecca said, releasing Nate's hand.

      Nate smiled again, mellow from the two glasses of wine, and exhilarating in
      the speed and power of the car. After endless hours on country roads in the
      cramped minis England was famous for, it was like the opening a new world
      to fly down the wide American highways in the overpowered Corvette. It was
      dark on the highway, only a smattering of traffic on the way into one of
      the largest cities on the east coast of the United States.

      Nate slowed the car slightly, preparing for his exit into the north east of
      the city, towards their home near the water. As he did, he caught sight of
      an erratic stutter from a set of lights heading towards him. Nate's
      deceleration had robbed him of a few precious miles of speed, and he
      watched with horror as the lights suddenly lurched right and jumped lanes.
      Both beams now bore down on the Corvette.

      Had Nate kept his speed, he might have been able to clear the car by
      swerving to the outside lane, but slowed as he was, their car lay directly
      in the path of the on-coming vehicle. Desperately, he wrenched the wheel to
      the left, trying to snake the car clear of the one bearing down on him,
      escaping across lanes before it could reach him.

      "Nate— " Rebecca cried out, before shock closed her throat and strangled
      any further screams. The Corvette snapped to the left, angling away from
      the oncoming car. Again, the deceleration before the exit had robbed the
      car of just enough speed to prevent Nate's desperate gambit to clear the
      other car. Nate saw the vehicles positions in a shutter-fast picture, just
      a few feet too close to escape.

      The heavy-bodied Oldsmobile slammed into the side of the Corvette,
      crumpling the side panels with ease. The sports car buckled, and lifted
      under the impact. The front heavy body of the car lashed the Oldsmobile
      sideways, even as its own weak frame crumpled, wedging itself atop the nose
      of the other car. As the Oldsmobile fishtailed sideways, the Corvette
      separated from it, flung off at an angle towards the verge. The car touched
      down once, twice, smashing both the nose and the tail on the unforgiving
      asphalt as it cantered end over end sickeningly. It came down on its side,
      skidded sideways and fell back on its wheels just as the right side of the
      front clipped the barrier. The shuddering impact stove in the right front
      of the car, spinning it sideways to a halt on the edge of the highway,
      wreaked and burning.

      The frying crackle of flames erupted in the night as burning flickers
      sprouted from the hood and along the front of the car. The torn fuel line
      had sprayed an arc of flaming gasoline across the side and top of the
      mangled vehicle, lit by the showers of sparks. The driver's side door
      opened, and Nate half stepped, half fell out of the car. His nose was
      broken, and he was wiping away the shattered glass that had cut his face in
      a dozen places. He stumbled on the verge, trying to find his feet and clear
      away the pained fog that gripped his mind.

      "Nate!" The single cry cut through the pain, and Nate's head whipped
      around, spraying droplets of ruby blood. His wife and child were still
      trapped inside, and he could see the orange flashes of fire along the body
      of the car. He rushed back, pulling the twisted door wide and leaning in. A
      wash of heat nearly drove him back. Flames were licking the roof, spreading
      in wide curtains between the seats. The impact had driven part of the
      engine back into the front seating area. The heavy block had missed cutting
      his wife in half by less than an inch, but the buckling had pinned it
      between her and Nate, making it impossible to free her from his side. She
      screamed again as the first brush of fire caught her legs, and the sweet
      pork smell of burning flesh gagged Nate.

      Adam! Get Adam! His mind screamed as he peered through the flames to the
      back seat. His son was in his carseat, screaming from the heat and the
      nearing fire. Nate thrust his hands through the fire, only to yank them
      back as the heat scorched him.

      "Adam!" His wife screamed again, trying to reach him from her trapped seat.
      Nate tried to close his ears as he reached again for his son, and again the
      flames drove him back. Tears running freely down his soot blackened cheeks,
      Nate ground his teeth together and dove back over the seat, screaming as
      the fire tore at his arms. His eyes were watering, almost blinding him as
      he fumbled around at the carrier, trying to pull his son free. The flames
      leapt to his arms, burning, and Nate's nose filled with the copper-bitter
      smell of blood from where his teeth bit through his lower lip. Blood
      dripped and sizzled on the leather as he fumbled at the clatch. The metal
      was hot, searing his hands. He dropped it once, cried out and grabbed it
      again, ignoring the wrenching pain as he pulled the lock free. Nate grabbed
      his son under the arms and pulled him out, over the flames along the seat.
      They reeled drunkenly out to the blissfully cool air on the verge, and Nate
      set his son down before collapsing to beat the flames out on his arms.
      Nate pulled himself back to his feet and turned back to the car. His wife's
      cries had turned to a single long undulating keening; wordless and ancient.
      He stumbled around the car, to the shattered and buckled side door. The
      metal was rent and twisted, screwed up in an impossible shape against the
      ruined frame. Through the shattered window, Nate saw his wife, frantically
      beating at the flames on her legs and torso, watching helplessly as they
      spread to her long hair. Nate smashed the rest of her window with his
      elbow, Rebecca shrieking as the glass sprayed her. He reached in, trying to
      pull her through the opening, to get her out of the makeshift crematorium
      she was trapped inside. The smell of her burning enveloped him, gagging
      him. His ears were filled with the crackle and pop of burning fat, as the
      flames savaged her body. He pulled, his ruined hands screaming in pain and
      threatening to overwhelm him. Her body wouldn't move, and sickeningly, Nate
      realized that the frame had crunched down to trap her legs. He pulled,
      fighting the pain and the fire and his own weakness, trying to defy the
      fate they had stumbled on. Rebecca's eyes, insane with pain caught his one
      last time, and she mouthed his name in a wordless scream.

      The gas tank of the Corvette sat at an odd angle on the driver's side the
      body. The impact had wrenched it towards the passenger side, and torn a
      deep rent in the top, opening it up like the top of a can of beans. The
      flames had danced around the metal, heating it and licking the edges. Even
      as Nate struggled with his wife, a spark touched the fuel inside, and the
      gasoline inside ignited. The fuel spent its energy through the rent,
      exploding upward like a giant flame thrower. The furious blast blew Nate
      from his feet, sending him tumbling back several feet as the fireball
      engulfed the car.

      Nate saw his wife immolated in the front seat of their car, now a fiery
      tomb. He screamed through a throat burned raw, and tried to reach her, but
      the heat drove him back. Her wail was cut off, the aftershocks of it
      trailing away in Nate's ears. Nearly blind from the heat and smoke, he
      crawled to his feet, and stumbled around the car, where his son lay on the
      grass at the verge.

      Adam lay in the cool grass, unmoving with the inferno beside him. Nate fell
      to his knees beside his son, touching his chest and throat, searching for a
      pulse. Fire hadn't touched his golden haired child, but he lay still on the
      grass, his heart stopped. Bending down, Nate opened his son's mouth and
      breathed in, then moved to the chest to palpitate his heart. One, two,
      three, four, five. Breathe. The taste of ashes in his son's mouth. One,
      two, three, four, five. Breathe. Skin already cold in the night air. One,
      two, three, four, five. Breathe. The sick wet crack of the sternum.

      "No...." Nate moaned, tears making light furrows through the black mask of
      his cheeks. He kept up the CPR, feeling the chest heave under his hands,
      not willing to believe his son lost. "No.." He sobbed again, letting his
      hands fall to his sides, blood seeping between the cracked flesh, his skin
      burnt black. The fire guttered in the car beside him, and in the distance
      he heard the howl of sirens. The charred scent of his wife hung on the
      breeze, and he vomited, retching across the road. In those terribly scarred
      arms, he gathered his son, weeping. The crackle of the fire kindled his own
      soul, and a long keening cry broke from his throat. It rang in the night,
      mimicking the dying fires as the life and passion and love burnt themselves
      out with it. The flames slowly died, and with it, the dreams of a single man.

      ***
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