“Where are we going?”
It was, perhaps, the hundredth time she’d heard that question, and that only accounted for the times it was directed straight at her. There was desperation creeping into her friend’s voice; even though she couldn’t see, she was bathed daily in desperate voices. She wished she could offer them a simple answer, but there was none.
For just over two weeks, Melissa Revere had led her people, her fellow Mutations, on this pilgrimage. Into the wild. Away from so-called civilization, where her people were harassed and abused. Following a dream—her dream—as well as the occasional phantom.
Melissa was only blind in the traditional sense, but she was able to see heat, and occasionally this would manifest as something that wasn’t really there. Just like normal people saw ghosts, Melissa saw these phantoms, and sometimes they guided her. This, in particular, was a fact she kept mostly to herself.
The strangest thing about her to most people, then, was her appearance. She was scaly and green, with two-toed feet and a forked tongue.
“Melissa...” her friend Eleanor touched her briefly, gently, on the arm. She knew that Melissa shunned physical affection from all but a chosen few. “The people...they trust you, but they’re frightened. Are we on the right track to our destination?”
Melissa looked toward the sound of her friend’s voice. She seemed to be looking Eleanor in the eye even though she couldn’t see. “We’re going to the promised land,” she said softly, reverently.
“Well...Melissa...you wanna tell them that?”
The two of them were walking, while a lot of their number drove or rode. Melissa dug in her walking stick to catch up to the lead wagon and hail the driver.
“Hector!” she called. “Stop the caravan. I need to talk to everyone.”
Once they all stopped, she jumped onto the back of Hector’s stagecoach and used it as a stage.
“We are on a hard road, everyone, make no mistake. But once a long time ago, our forefathers walked a hard road too.” The similarity to a Lincoln speech stirred their courage. “They stood and took arms to fight off the behemoth that was England, and though they sacrificed a lot, some their very lives...they won. This is not that kind of fight, nor does it need to be! We’ll not engage our enemy in battle. Good land awaits us. A forest with tall trees, a river. It’s very far away, where they’ll not look for us, and by the time they do find us again, we will be strong! Like a weary lion who sleeps to regain his strength, so shall we be at rest. Building a civilization that can stand on its own and protect itself.
“So don’t be afraid. There is a plan. We’ve left Phoenix far behind, and Arnold tells me we’ve not been pursued. He’s the best scout we could have asked for in these perilous times. Faster on his feet than most men are on--”
Her heat sense registered a blur just then, an orange streak that crossed her field of vision behind the gathered crowd. They were taken aback by her bizarre pause, but she decided to pick up where she left off rather than worry or confuse them.
“--on--on foot. We’re already as far as the western border of Arizona. By tomorrow, we’ll hit California. May it be a land of dreams for all of us.”
Eleanor, standing beside her, had followed her gaze and slipped away quietly to investigate what she’d seen. It would be difficult, as Eleanor hadn’t seen it herself...but the land was flat for miles, so as soon as she exited the circle of wagons, she believed it would be a simple matter to figure out what had come and gone.
The landscape was bare of all but a couple cacti as far as she could see. She stretched her arms, swung them about a bit to limber up, and cracked her knuckles. All this apprehension, and for nothing! At least when she had someone to punch or throw, it felt like progress. This...it felt like a joke.
“...and you said it was very fast. Like me?” Arnold felt the need to be clear on this. He, Eleanor and Melissa were gathered for a private meeting in the lead wagon.
“Like you,” she confirmed.
Arnold lowered his head and shook it. “I’ll never understand this thing that you do, but you got us this far. I trust you.”
She put her hand on top of Arnold’s. She heard Eleanor’s sharp intake of breath, but paid it no mind. “Thanks, Arnold.”
He nodded. “Just doing my part.”
“No! You’re doing much more than anyone could have asked. We’re all very proud of you.”
When she removed her hand, Eleanor sat back in her seat.
“Allison’s gotten pretty far along,” Arnold told them both. “I have to keep her safe. I’ll do anything. So...watch tonight? I’m all for it.”
It had been discovered that, for at least three days, someone had stolen food and water from the chuckwagon. The flash of orange Melissa saw was thought to be connected, so between them, they decided to figure out just what was happening. Was it a slymute from Phoenix who’d changed their mind? Some kind of bandit? Or a supernatural invasion? There was only one way to find out.
Night was cold. The days might have been as hot as Satan’s oven, but that heat gave way mighty quickly. So when all the fires but one had gone out, Arnold crossed his arms for a bit of warmth. He wanted to go without a coat, because the added weight might slow him down.
He looked from right to left. Back to the right. Behind him. Nothing. This went on for a long time, and there was no activity. When the flap on the chuckwagon moved slightly in the breeze, it was like blessed relief. Except...
What breeze?
There was a puffing pitter-patter through the sand as he pursued his quarry. His long, slender legs with their backward knees afforded him the running speed he needed to keep up, at least for a while. But the object of his determination soon shrunk away in the distance.
“Dang it!” he bellowed. He slowed, and began to kick up sand in frustration. “Dang it, dang it, DANG it! Okay, Arnie, okay, you didn’t make it to the river and back on your lonesome without a little patience, right? So let’s look around for some tracks, and, um...see what we see.”
There were depressions in the sand, though they took forever to find. As small as they were, they blended in too well to be seen as footprints, initially. On studying them, he discerned that they did indeed go in the general direction of whatever he was chasing. If there hadn’t been ample light, it would not have been possible. He looked at the sky and said “Thank the stars.”
The prints weren’t far apart, either, which led him to believe that he was chasing something small. Then he was flattened by a chop to the neck.
His opponent’s eyes gleamed in the starlight, narrow and black. An orange-skinned Coolie stood over him, panting for breath, and then he circled a little and backed away with small, mincing steps.
Arnold held up his hands. “I don’t want to fight. Why are you taking our food?”
“I don’t care!” the Coolie snapped. He wasn’t bitter as much as he was...resigned? Arnold couldn’t tell. The Coolie looked like he wanted to leave, but knew it couldn’t happen without further incident. He backed away slowly and removed a piece of bread from his pouch. With a wary eye on Arnold, he took a bite.
“I take it you’re hungry, friend. But you’re also one of us. I can see that. Why don’t you join us?”
The Coolie turned his back. “I don’t care!”
“Is that all you can say? Look, I’m afraid I can’t just let you leave...you’ve been stealing from us! We have a long way to travel, and that food needs to last us...”
The Coolie sucked air sharply through his teeth. “O-kayyy,” he interrupted.
Arnold’s arms flopped to his sides in exasperation. “Okay what?”
“I lose my honor!” The Coolie explained. “Not good to work, not marry, not important!” A terrible frustration drove the Coolie’s words.
“What’s your name? My name’s Arnold. What’s your name?”
“My name Jin.”
Arnold repeated it, pronouncing it “Gene” just like the Coolie had.
“Yeah, you are right!”
“Well...Jin...maybe where you come from you weren’t good enough for too many things. But here you can be whoever and whatever you want.”
Jin blew sharply through clenched teeth and shook his head.
“What is it, Jin? What’s wrong with that?”
“I not good! In my culture...” Jin struggled with the words. “...I born to work. But I too fast. Tie my feet, make me slow. I still fast, wrong color. Try medicine, but no good, not get back color. So send me here. But I cannot work. Railroad boss not like me! Orange skin, he say no good! Whip me! Tie me all night to post!”
“He...tied you up and left you?”
“Ya! And I work more than anyone! Big boss, he just give me more work, never let me tired!”
“So you’ve left him now. You can come with us. We’re like you! You’ll be an equal with us. Start over.” He smiled. “We’ll never tie you up.”
“No. No, I cannot have equal.”
“Why not?”
“Not the way. This not how my people do it.”
Arnold placed his hand on Jin’s arm. “I hate to say this, friend, but after how they’ve treated you...they’re not your people. But we are. We’ve been treated the same way. So we’re starting over. A new place, a new life. If we’re like you, we’re pretty much equals, right?”
Though with incredible difficulty, Jin finally said “O-kay”, and returned with Arnold to their circle of wagons. He would soon prove himself as one of their number by scouting with Arnold, and thus the village-to-be had acquired a new member.
It was, perhaps, the hundredth time she’d heard that question, and that only accounted for the times it was directed straight at her. There was desperation creeping into her friend’s voice; even though she couldn’t see, she was bathed daily in desperate voices. She wished she could offer them a simple answer, but there was none.
For just over two weeks, Melissa Revere had led her people, her fellow Mutations, on this pilgrimage. Into the wild. Away from so-called civilization, where her people were harassed and abused. Following a dream—her dream—as well as the occasional phantom.
Melissa was only blind in the traditional sense, but she was able to see heat, and occasionally this would manifest as something that wasn’t really there. Just like normal people saw ghosts, Melissa saw these phantoms, and sometimes they guided her. This, in particular, was a fact she kept mostly to herself.
The strangest thing about her to most people, then, was her appearance. She was scaly and green, with two-toed feet and a forked tongue.
“Melissa...” her friend Eleanor touched her briefly, gently, on the arm. She knew that Melissa shunned physical affection from all but a chosen few. “The people...they trust you, but they’re frightened. Are we on the right track to our destination?”
Melissa looked toward the sound of her friend’s voice. She seemed to be looking Eleanor in the eye even though she couldn’t see. “We’re going to the promised land,” she said softly, reverently.
“Well...Melissa...you wanna tell them that?”
The two of them were walking, while a lot of their number drove or rode. Melissa dug in her walking stick to catch up to the lead wagon and hail the driver.
“Hector!” she called. “Stop the caravan. I need to talk to everyone.”
Once they all stopped, she jumped onto the back of Hector’s stagecoach and used it as a stage.
“We are on a hard road, everyone, make no mistake. But once a long time ago, our forefathers walked a hard road too.” The similarity to a Lincoln speech stirred their courage. “They stood and took arms to fight off the behemoth that was England, and though they sacrificed a lot, some their very lives...they won. This is not that kind of fight, nor does it need to be! We’ll not engage our enemy in battle. Good land awaits us. A forest with tall trees, a river. It’s very far away, where they’ll not look for us, and by the time they do find us again, we will be strong! Like a weary lion who sleeps to regain his strength, so shall we be at rest. Building a civilization that can stand on its own and protect itself.
“So don’t be afraid. There is a plan. We’ve left Phoenix far behind, and Arnold tells me we’ve not been pursued. He’s the best scout we could have asked for in these perilous times. Faster on his feet than most men are on--”
Her heat sense registered a blur just then, an orange streak that crossed her field of vision behind the gathered crowd. They were taken aback by her bizarre pause, but she decided to pick up where she left off rather than worry or confuse them.
“--on--on foot. We’re already as far as the western border of Arizona. By tomorrow, we’ll hit California. May it be a land of dreams for all of us.”
Eleanor, standing beside her, had followed her gaze and slipped away quietly to investigate what she’d seen. It would be difficult, as Eleanor hadn’t seen it herself...but the land was flat for miles, so as soon as she exited the circle of wagons, she believed it would be a simple matter to figure out what had come and gone.
The landscape was bare of all but a couple cacti as far as she could see. She stretched her arms, swung them about a bit to limber up, and cracked her knuckles. All this apprehension, and for nothing! At least when she had someone to punch or throw, it felt like progress. This...it felt like a joke.
“...and you said it was very fast. Like me?” Arnold felt the need to be clear on this. He, Eleanor and Melissa were gathered for a private meeting in the lead wagon.
“Like you,” she confirmed.
Arnold lowered his head and shook it. “I’ll never understand this thing that you do, but you got us this far. I trust you.”
She put her hand on top of Arnold’s. She heard Eleanor’s sharp intake of breath, but paid it no mind. “Thanks, Arnold.”
He nodded. “Just doing my part.”
“No! You’re doing much more than anyone could have asked. We’re all very proud of you.”
When she removed her hand, Eleanor sat back in her seat.
“Allison’s gotten pretty far along,” Arnold told them both. “I have to keep her safe. I’ll do anything. So...watch tonight? I’m all for it.”
It had been discovered that, for at least three days, someone had stolen food and water from the chuckwagon. The flash of orange Melissa saw was thought to be connected, so between them, they decided to figure out just what was happening. Was it a slymute from Phoenix who’d changed their mind? Some kind of bandit? Or a supernatural invasion? There was only one way to find out.
Night was cold. The days might have been as hot as Satan’s oven, but that heat gave way mighty quickly. So when all the fires but one had gone out, Arnold crossed his arms for a bit of warmth. He wanted to go without a coat, because the added weight might slow him down.
He looked from right to left. Back to the right. Behind him. Nothing. This went on for a long time, and there was no activity. When the flap on the chuckwagon moved slightly in the breeze, it was like blessed relief. Except...
What breeze?
There was a puffing pitter-patter through the sand as he pursued his quarry. His long, slender legs with their backward knees afforded him the running speed he needed to keep up, at least for a while. But the object of his determination soon shrunk away in the distance.
“Dang it!” he bellowed. He slowed, and began to kick up sand in frustration. “Dang it, dang it, DANG it! Okay, Arnie, okay, you didn’t make it to the river and back on your lonesome without a little patience, right? So let’s look around for some tracks, and, um...see what we see.”
There were depressions in the sand, though they took forever to find. As small as they were, they blended in too well to be seen as footprints, initially. On studying them, he discerned that they did indeed go in the general direction of whatever he was chasing. If there hadn’t been ample light, it would not have been possible. He looked at the sky and said “Thank the stars.”
The prints weren’t far apart, either, which led him to believe that he was chasing something small. Then he was flattened by a chop to the neck.
His opponent’s eyes gleamed in the starlight, narrow and black. An orange-skinned Coolie stood over him, panting for breath, and then he circled a little and backed away with small, mincing steps.
Arnold held up his hands. “I don’t want to fight. Why are you taking our food?”
“I don’t care!” the Coolie snapped. He wasn’t bitter as much as he was...resigned? Arnold couldn’t tell. The Coolie looked like he wanted to leave, but knew it couldn’t happen without further incident. He backed away slowly and removed a piece of bread from his pouch. With a wary eye on Arnold, he took a bite.
“I take it you’re hungry, friend. But you’re also one of us. I can see that. Why don’t you join us?”
The Coolie turned his back. “I don’t care!”
“Is that all you can say? Look, I’m afraid I can’t just let you leave...you’ve been stealing from us! We have a long way to travel, and that food needs to last us...”
The Coolie sucked air sharply through his teeth. “O-kayyy,” he interrupted.
Arnold’s arms flopped to his sides in exasperation. “Okay what?”
“I lose my honor!” The Coolie explained. “Not good to work, not marry, not important!” A terrible frustration drove the Coolie’s words.
“What’s your name? My name’s Arnold. What’s your name?”
“My name Jin.”
Arnold repeated it, pronouncing it “Gene” just like the Coolie had.
“Yeah, you are right!”
“Well...Jin...maybe where you come from you weren’t good enough for too many things. But here you can be whoever and whatever you want.”
Jin blew sharply through clenched teeth and shook his head.
“What is it, Jin? What’s wrong with that?”
“I not good! In my culture...” Jin struggled with the words. “...I born to work. But I too fast. Tie my feet, make me slow. I still fast, wrong color. Try medicine, but no good, not get back color. So send me here. But I cannot work. Railroad boss not like me! Orange skin, he say no good! Whip me! Tie me all night to post!”
“He...tied you up and left you?”
“Ya! And I work more than anyone! Big boss, he just give me more work, never let me tired!”
“So you’ve left him now. You can come with us. We’re like you! You’ll be an equal with us. Start over.” He smiled. “We’ll never tie you up.”
“No. No, I cannot have equal.”
“Why not?”
“Not the way. This not how my people do it.”
Arnold placed his hand on Jin’s arm. “I hate to say this, friend, but after how they’ve treated you...they’re not your people. But we are. We’ve been treated the same way. So we’re starting over. A new place, a new life. If we’re like you, we’re pretty much equals, right?”
Though with incredible difficulty, Jin finally said “O-kay”, and returned with Arnold to their circle of wagons. He would soon prove himself as one of their number by scouting with Arnold, and thus the village-to-be had acquired a new member.
