by J. Rock
8.
Traylor and I have a destination in mind; the only problem is that the slave trader will likely know it’s where we're going.
We don't have much time.
With Traylor laughing hysterically, I pilot our newly acquired vehicle over the Mainstreet Bridge, corpses on the road acting as speed bumps that send us bouncing in our seats. We reach the outskirts of Krakelyn in a matter of minutes, the Manse coming into view at the top of a wooded hill.
Our destination.
For a moment, I'm worried that the massive wrought iron gate at the driveway entrance will block our path, but when we get there we find it already on the ground, torn from its hinges.
This doesn't bode well.
I race recklessly up the long drive, the Manse hurtling into view seconds later. I carve the wheel and guide the vehicle across the front lawn, chewing up chunks of sod as I go, bringing us around the back of the building and out of sight from the street. I park right on top of the rear patio and, before we're even climbing out, the house servants have appeared, pouring out of the Manse.
"Juno!" one of the women exclaims. It's Ryonyx. The sight of the kindly old woman warms my heart. "Thank the gods! You've returned to us!" Ryonyx's face is a boil of tumors, all looking fit to burst. She grabs Traylor and me both in a hearty embrace, caressing and marveling at our still unblemished faces, then pulls away. "Your Father has been sick with worry!"
"Is he..." I begin.
"He is well," Ryonyx replies. "I will take you to him now." Relief floods me and we enter the house.
"What happened here?" I ask. The house is a disaster, overturned furniture and our personal effects strewn everywhere.
"The Children of Mutanity," Ryonyx replies. “Your Father's former Deacons. When the, um, Final Judgment occurred, they disavowed the old religion. They now believe the True Body Plan to be an abomination, and mutations to be the will of the gods."
"Did all of them turn?" I ask, stupefied, though I'd already surmised much of what Ryonyx is telling me.
"Not all of them," a husky baritone answers.
I whirl to see my Father ambling toward us through the devastated kitchen. He's followed by another man whom I've never met before. He's handsome–maybe five years my senior–but projects an air of authority that makes him seem older. His face is stern, expression unreadable behind cold green eyes. His face is covered in a harsh, red rash, but it’s hardly the worst I've seen since returning to Krakelyn.
"Father!" Traylor and I both exclaim at once, greeting him with open arms. I'm so happy to see him I hardly notice the sores on his face and the smell emanating from them.
He grunts at our embrace, allowing it for a moment, then pulls away with a rare smile. "It is good to see you both," he says, the pride evident in his tone. "You truly are resourceful to have lasted this long, Juno."
I blush. Father rarely compliments anyone. "What happened here?" I ask, glancing around at the devastation again. "Why would the Deacons do this?"
"Not the Deacons," my Father shakes his head. "Not anymore. Most of them have joined the Children of Mutanity. When I refused to lead them on their quest to rid the world of the True Body Plan, they sacked the Manse, urging me to reconsider. As High Deacon, they want me to legitimize their fool crusade. They will be back in a few days for my, ahem, formal reply."
"What will you do?" I gasp, fretful.
"I don't know," Father replies, uncertainty coloring his voice. It's not often my Father doesn't have an answer for a given problem. "At the moment, I'm more worried about you two." He gestures at Traylor and I. "You two just might be the last pure humans left in the whole world!"
"You can't know that!" I interject. "That object I found on the beach... It couldn't possibly have affected the entire planet!"
Father hesitates, exchanging a nervous glance with the stern young man who had come in with him. The young man nods. "Actually," Father replies, "it can and it did. You two are the last hope for humanity."
Traylor and I exchange skeptical looks at that moment, and I see that my little brother is nearing the brink.
Then he goes over.
"It's all my fault!" he bawls, wrapping his arms around Father again. "I touched the Box! I'm the one who set it off!"
Father hunkers down, grabbing Traylor by the shoulders. "No, Traylor. No. You were just curious. You and Juno both. If your sister hadn't found that Box, someone else would have." Father pauses, sighing deeply. "It was a modified weapon of the Forerunners, sent here by the mutants of Everwinter."
I blink at my Father, disbelieving what I've just heard. "What are you saying? That Everwinter attacked us?"
"That is exactly what I am saying," Father confirms in his usual, no-nonsense tone.
I can feel the color draining from my face. "But... Why? I thought we had an understanding with Everwinter. Why would they attack us?"
"It doesn't matter right now, Juno" my Father replies, his eyes suggesting he knows more than he's willing to tell. "What matters is that you two are in grave danger. You have to leave Krakelyn."
"And go where?" I immediately interject. "If the whole world is now mutated..."
"Ryonyx," Father calls to the servant, "bring it in for me, will you?" Ryonyx bows and leaves the room, returning less than a minute later with a large, rolled up parchment. Father unceremoniously clears the center island of the kitchen by sweeping all of the clutter to the floor, taking the parchment and laying it out. I recognize the document immediately as the map of Eversummer from the wall in his study, depicting a narrow strip of land circling the globe at the equator. He quickly finds Krakelyn on the grid and points to it. Traylor and I track his finger as he moves it to the great port cities of the southern coast. He stops at Venecici, the eastern most of the southern cities.
"You must travel here," he says. "It should only take a week or two if you use the new canyon route. There you will find a woman named Ursa. She is a scientist. Before all this happened, she was working on a cure for mutations."
My jaw drops, stunned. I look around the room and see I'm not the only one. Traylor and the rest of the servants are just as shocked. Clearly, the time for secrecy has passed.
"But why us?" I finally manage to ask. "Once word gets out that Traylor and I are still, um, normal, we'll be more famous than we already are!"
"That's why it's important that no one finds out. Disguise yourselves so that... What? What is it?"
I stare at my Father sheepishly. "Um, someone may already know. About me anyway."
Father frowns. "What happened?"
"Um, I might have been kidnapped by a man cleaning up dead bodies in the city. He knows who I am, and he knows I'm not a mutant. He wanted to sell me..." Bitter bile rises at the back of my throat.
"That complicates things," Father states simply. He turns to the young man who came in with him and says something so low I cannot hear it. He turns back to us. "You leave immediately," he says.
"What!?" I protest. "No! Father, I have to find Jude and–"
"Out of the question, Juno. This is no time for romantics. I was hoping that I wouldn't have to tell you this but..." I shudder, shoring myself for the blow that Father was about to deliver. "I searched for Jude after you left Krakelyn, thinking you might have made contact with him. I found nothing."
"No..." I say, nearly a whisper. Sobs begin to wrack my chest. "He went into hiding, Father, shortly after we found the Box. It marred his face and we were afraid the Deacons would–"
"That may be true, Juno, but what reason would he have to stay in hiding once everyone else became a mutant? It should not have been difficult to locate him."
I sag, realizing the truth, and nod dejectedly. "When do we leave?" I finally ask.
Father turns to the young man, gesturing for him to step forward. "Altair will see you safely to the south," he says. "You will be traveling through the Bleaklands and–"
"You're not coming with us?" Traylor suddenly wails, seem
ing more a child than ever.
"I cannot, Traylor," Father answers. "I am too well known in the cities of Eversummer, and with the eyes of the Children of Mutanity upon me, we would never make it. My absence from Krakelyn would be immediately noted."
Traylor collapses into Father's arms, sobbing. "I hate this," the boy says.
"As do I," Father agrees. "But part of being a leader and a man, Traylor, is doing your duty to those beneath you, no matter how unpleasant the task may be. You want to be a man, don't you?" Traylor shakes his head and Father smirks, expecting such a response from his son.
"You haven't answered my question," I cut in suddenly, realizing it for the first time. "Why does it have to be me and Traylor? Why not just send your buddy here? Altair, is it? We're not soldiers, Father. We can't fight if there's trouble."
Father sighs heavily. "You are my children, Juno. You'd be surprised what your genetics can grant you." I only stare at him confusedly, and he sighs once again. "It's your blood," he finally states flatly. "It has to be you and Traylor, because you are likely the only humans left with an untainted genetic structure."
"What does that mean?" Traylor asks, reflecting my own thoughts to an extent.
"It means that you are special, Traylor," Father answers. "You have special molecules inside your blood that show us a map of the True Body Plan. All other blood samples were corrupted during the Final Judgment. Since you're not mutated, your blood was shielded somehow."
I'm starting to get mad. "Father, I know you don't want to hear this but... Why not just let it go?"
"What do you mean?" Father asks sternly.
"You know what I mean. What if the Children of Mutanity have the right idea? What if we were wrong all along and the gods never cared about the True Body Plan? Maybe it's time to let nature steer our course for a change."
Father grins, a rare thing. "I forget sometimes that you have never seen a mutant from Everwinter, Juno. You have heard the stories, I am sure, but I have seen them in the flesh.” He pauses dramatically. “They are horrible things, aberrations of nature. Their eyes are entirely red, nearly devoid of sight because they live not in the sun. Their bodies are covered in a coarse, reeking white fur that lends them invisibility in the drifting white snow. And worst of all, they feast on the blood and flesh of their dead as it is the most readily available food source."
Father stops speaking and I look over at Traylor whose jaw is nearly on the floor. I am not quite so gullible, but Traylor is eight years younger than me.
"No, Juno," Father continues, "the mutants of Everwinter are what happens when humanity forsakes the will of the gods and lets nature speak for itself. If we need a more cogent deterrent, we need look no further than our past. To the Forerunners. The ways of the Forerunners..."
"...are the ways of death," I finish with an eye roll. Yeah, yeah, yeah.
"I'm serious, Juno," Father puffs up, sensing my sarcasm.
"You should know me better than that by now, Father," I reply in earnest. "It'll take more than just a few scary stories to convince me there was ever anything wrong with the Forerunners."
Father nods, deflating somewhat. "You are your Mother's daughter," he concedes. "Very well. There is one last thing I must tell you before you leave. I am certain it will convince you to go, but you won't like hearing it."
I shake my head doubtfully. "What is it?" I ask.
"We're sterile, Juno."
His words echo in my mind. I almost have to ask him to repeat them. Did I just hear that right?
"You mean everybody, don't you?" I say. "Everyone who was affected by that Box is now sterile."
Father nods. "Yes, Juno. It was confirmed at the Krakelyn Hospice about a week ago. Unless we find a way to reverse the condition, humanity as we know it will cease to exist within a century." It's my turn for my jaw to drop. Father pulls his eyes away from me when he sees the shocked expression. "Now you know why you and Traylor are so important," he says.
Because we're not sterile, I realize. "But... We're siblings," I interject. "Traylor and I can't breed..."
Father laughs, almost hysterically. "Gods, no!" he replies. "But this Ursa woman I am sending you to can study your genes and compare them to mutant ones in the hope of finding a reversal switch, so to speak."
I nod with my head hanging to my chest. Everything has just crashed home. Everything is now real.
My brother and I are the last hope for humanity.
When I finally look up, it's not at my Father, but at Altair, his henchman. I know most of my Father's men, but I've never seen this one before in my life. Where had he come from? He doesn't have the look of a southerner. He looks like a cold, hard killer. And I'm supposed to trust this guy with my life? I haven't even heard him speak yet.
"I guess we better move," I finally say, seeing a look of relief explode onto my Father's face.
"The sooner the better," Father agrees. "I've already had the servants pack some gear for–"
BAABOOOOM!!
The entire Manse shakes, seeming to twist on its foundations. Smoke, debris, and the telltale glow of blooming fire emanates from the front of the house. Most of us have ducked for cover, but Altair is already moving, lithely sneaking toward the source of the explosion. He returns less than a minute later.
"Children of Mutanity," he says without preamble. It's the first thing I’ve heard him speak. I'm surprised to find that his voice is soft though, almost tender. "They're at the front of the house but moving to surround us."
"Altair, get my children out of here," Father orders. Altair simply nods. The young man gestures for Traylor and I to move when–
"HIGH DEACON, JONATHAN QUINN!" an amplified voice calls out from the back of the house. "WE KNOW YOUR DAUGHTER IS PURE! WE KNOW YOU HAVE THE LAST HUMAN!"
Altair curses and I look out the patio doors to see the Children of Mutanity are now in the backyard. The entire house is surrounded. Altair tells us to stay where we are then starts moving from window to window. By the time he comes back to the kitchen, the backyard is full of Children and a man I'd hoped to never see again so long as I live.
The slave trader.
The fat man is standing next to another man who seems to be calling the shots, brandishing a shooting iron. I shudder in revulsion. The man in charge is holding a cone shaped object I've seen used at the docks before. An amp, they call it.
"YOUR HOUSE IS SURROUNDED, DEACON QUINN. SURRENDER PEACEFULLY, AND THIS WON'T HAVE TO COME TO VIOLENCE. ALL WE WANT IS YOUR DAUGHTER."
Father grits his teeth. I can almost hear them grinding. "Blaine," he says.
The name registers instantly in my mind. Blaine is said to be my Father's 'Third', under Thomas Whiskeyjack, though no such position actually exists. He’s rumored to be a zealous man, fervent to the point of extremism. But that’s about all I'd heard about him. Blaine is hard looking, with a square jaw, black hair peppered with gray and equally graying stubble. One of his eyes is nearly squeezed shut by a bulbous tumor growing over it.
"YOU HAVE ONE MINUTE TO COMPLY," he announces over the amp.
I watch my Father turn to Altair, a desperate look on his face. "I'll need less than that," Altair states coldly, gesturing for us to follow him through the house. As we move, a servant arrives with something I'd only seen once before in my life until today: a shooting iron. The servant hands the weapon to my Father.
"Thank you, Asha," Father says, giving the iron a quick once over.
"What in bloody ashes is that?" I ask, Father’s own immortal words echoing in my mind: The ways of the Forerunners are the ways of death...
Father just shrugs sheepishly at his own hypocrisy. "Sometimes rules must be broken for the greater good," he replies.
I shake my head as we stop at the end of the main hall. Altair urges us to keep back from the window even as he approaches it. He unlatches it and lets it swing wide. Instantly, there's a hue and cry from outside. Altair's hands move in a blur and the cries are silenced.
"Come on," he says, leaping through the opening, landing in the yard. I push Traylor through first then quickly follow. We're in the east garden. On the ground are two men I recognize as former Deacons, both lying face up in pools of their own blood. Altair reaches down to them, pulling a pair of sharp, silvery objects from each of their throats.
Throwing stars.
The weapons of an Assassin!
Just who had my Father fallen in with here?
There are no other men around, but shouts are beginning to issue from nearby. The garden is thick, all sculpted shrubs, flowering trees, and vines, shrouding our presence for the moment.
"Come with us!" I hear Traylor plead, turning to see him standing at the open window, looking up at our Father still inside. "Please!"
"You know I can't, Traylor," Father argues. "Now go, we don't have time to–" Father breaks off and raises his shooting iron, aiming at a man who has just appeared between two hedges. He pulls the trigger and the roar is deafening in our proximity. The unwary man drops, clutching the gaping hole now frothing blood from his chest. "GO!" Father orders. "I'll hold them off!"
Altair grabs Traylor and me by the shoulders and quickly marches us away from the house and into the thick of the garden, coming to the east wall moments later. Altair boosts Traylor over the stone edifice into the woods on the other side. I follow, wondering how Altair will follow us without someone to boost him. As I clamber over the wall's apex, I hazard a last look at my Father: he's leaning out the window, firing shots at a group of six men advancing toward him. The men are firing back with their own irons. I realize then that it’s hopeless.
My Father is going to die.
I can't let it be in vain.
I let myself drop into the woods next to Traylor, safe.
Ten seconds later, Altair is with us, seeming to have crawled up the eight foot wall like a spider and leaping to the ground.
Without a word, we turn our backs on Krakelyn and disappear into the forest.