Eversummer: The Forerunner Archives Book 1 by J. Rock

  16.

  "It's you or him, Child Jude. There is no other way. This man is guilty of hiding his mutation–as if it is something to be ashamed of!"

  Jude nods.

  He knows everything Blaine is telling him is true. And yet, he hesitates. Why?

  It was wrong to be a mutant at one time, wasn't it?

  He can't remember.

  Things have gotten so hazy since joining the Children of Mutanity. All he knows is that the world has changed. Mutations are now the norm, and any attempts to hide them from view are outlawed.

  Thou shalt only suffer a mutant to live.

  Jude raises the shooting iron.

  "That's right," Blaine hisses into his ear, not unlike the snake in that old tale about the First Paradise. "This man deserves to die. All you have to do is squeeze the trigger."

  The man in question is shuddering, on his knees before the gathering, eyes downcast. Blaine's group of Children–one hundred strong here–had been traveling south along the Canyonway, coming upon this poor vagabond alone, his head and body completely covered by a hooded cloak.

  Blasphemy!

  They had set upon him immediately.

  Jude pauses a moment, feeling the weight of the shooting iron in both his hand and his mind. This is his first time holding such a weapon, and the power it entails overwhelms him. 

  I hold this man's life in my hands, he thinks, turning the weapon sideways, admiring the tarnished metal. He glances around. I hold all of their lives at this moment! I could kill any one of them right now! Even Blaine. He gasps mentally at the audacity of such a thought.

  Sure, he could kill them, but in turn he would be just as dead. 

  He wasn't the only one with a shooting iron here.

  He looks down at the vagabond once more.

  The man is sobbing now, naked. The Children have torn away his clothing, revealing a body ravaged by weeping sores and rotting flesh. The Final Judgment had been hard on him. 

  A pity, but such was life.

  It's not my fault this is happening…

  "Look at me," Jude orders, leveling the weapon at the man's head. But the man doesn't listen. "LOOK AT ME!" Jude is shocked at his own tone, but it works because the man finally looks up, eyes watery. "Do you deny hiding what you are from the gods?"

  The vagrant shakes his head. "I wasn't hiding anything!" he pleads in a wavery voice. "I was cold! I had to keep myself covered!"

  Jude laughs, along with his comrades. "In case you haven't noticed, good sir, this is the desert. It's never cold here."

  The vag nods, desperate. "I... It's because of my mutations," he explains, still looking Jude in the eye. "My... My sores have become infected. I'm sick. I feel cold all the time."

  Blaine eyes Jude warily. That look seems to say: You're not buying this crap, are you?

  Jude scowls. "So you blame your mutation for your blasphemy, is that it?" Angry growls erupt from the onlookers, but again the vag remains silent. "Mutations are the True Body Plan now," Jude continues. "Mutations are perfection. We all have sores, much as you do, but ours are not festering. It's called bathing, my friend. You should try it sometime."

  More laughing from the crowd.

  "Go spit, you bloody fools!" the man screeches through gritted teeth. "Do your worst! I am ready for the end."

  "I just hope you are ready for what comes afterward," Jude retorts. And, without a second's more hesitation, he pulls the trigger. The shot is deafening, the vag collapsing in a splash of blood and brains. 

  It’s over.

  He should feel elated. He'd done the Children's good work, hadn't he? Then why does he feel...nothing?

  "Well done, Jude," the familiar baritone of Blaine proclaims with a hearty slap to the back. "You are becoming more a Child of Mutanity than I'd ever hoped for. When we find the last human, I want you by my side when I pull the trigger!" He turns away then hesitates, turning back. "Who knows? If you keep this up, I might just let you do the deed yourself."

  Jude gapes, jaw wide. "Th-thank you, High Deacon!" he stammers with a bow. He can't believe it! Back in Krakelyn, he'd been a nobody. Worthless. And now...

  He'd be a world hero if he killed the last human!

  Still, something isn't right. Inside of him. He feels something at the back of his mind, irritating, like a sliver. A question keeps forming in his thoughts, and every time it does, he pushes it away, suppresses it. 

  Who caused the mutations?

  It isn't a question he has the answer to yet.

  But he will, eventually. The last human will know. And Jude will make them tell. That itch is strong at the moment but, like the question, Jude forces it down. They are getting ready to move again. He doesn't have time to dwell on it.

  If Jude had been in normal frame of mind–a sane frame of mind–he might have known what that itch meant. 

  But, of course, he wasn't.

  That itch was guilt.