Date: Sun, 20 Jan 2002 01:10:43 -0700 From: kirkjr2 Subject: Wreckers Chapter 9 Wreckers Chapter 9 -- Then We Sought A Balance They were avenged. For the longest time, that was the only thought that mattered. The memories of the blasted bodies of his two loves were now replaced by that precious image of their last morning together, waking in bed. A sense of peace pervaded Justin Ackeman's entire being, and he was happy, if only for a little while. But, as with all things, the memory ended, and Justin tried to reorient himself with the world around him. As the memory faded, it was replaced by blackness. Not the mental void he had found himself in earlier, but total darkness. He also discovered that he couldn't move. He was tired, but something else held him back from being able to move. Searching for a cause to his paralysis, Justin sought the memories of what had happened before he blacked out. Bjorn's body had fallen, lifeless, from his hands. The cave had collapsed around them, and his last sight had been Bjorn's body being consumed by lava flowing into the cave. Lava! When it cooled, it became rock. Of course, the lava must have receded, leaving him trapped in rock! Easy enough to solve, Justin concentrated for a moment, thinking of New York, and the apartment there. With a flicker of his will, he teleported himself there...or tried to. Nothing happened. Fear welled in him before he crushed it. Why couldn't he teleport to New York? Two answers came to mind -- first that he'd lost his ability, or burned it out. He dismissed it out of hand. If he'd lost his abilities, he'd be dead, encased in this rock. The second, and more difficult one, was that New York was no longer there. He couldn't teleport to a place that no longer existed. Calming his thoughts, he tried again for Phoenix, with failure his only reward. London, St. Louis, Nashville, Montreal, Mexico City, no matter where he tried, he didn't move. The fear inside him was almost overpowering now, and he knew that if he gave in to it, he'd die. Calming himself without being able to take a deep breath, or any breath for that matter, was not easy, but he managed. Finally, he gave up on teleporting anywhere he knew on Earth, but what about somewhere else? He'd already proven to himself that intense heat, tons of rock, and magma itself couldn't hurt him, so why should the vacuum of space? Carefully, he formed an image of the surface of the moon in his mind, set firmly into his mind that the vacuum of space wouldn't cause him any discomfort, then...he jumped. The blackness of being trapped inside rock replaced itself with another blackness. This time punctuated by dots of light, shimmering brighter than any night sky on Earth. His bare feet felt the ancient coldness of the moon's dusty surface swirled around his feet as he hopped around the Sea of Tranquility. Behind him were the 60 year old remains of man-made relics of humanity's first visit to this celestial body. Justin was still nude, and could claim to be the first human to walk the surface of the moon without a few hundred pounds of clothing and equipment on him. The light gravity made his little hops effortless, and for a while, he lost himself to the joy of exploring this lonely, gray moon. Forgotten were the troubles of the past, the pain, the loss, the memories of others. He was fifteen years old again, and all he cared about was that his dream of walking on the moon was being fulfilled! So entranced was he, that he didn't realize he'd grown a few inches shorter, and his body had lost much of the definition it had shown. His hair grew longer and curled around his ears, with a small ponytail being braided down the back, its end barely touching his shoulder blades. While his hair grew longer, and more platinum blond, his eyes shone a brilliant blue for the first time in a while, and a wide smile lit his face when he picked up a small rock and threw it so high it disappeared around the horizon. The happiness came to an abrupt halt when a planet began to appear over the horizon. He knew it should have been a ball of blue, with brownish/green land masses visible, but it wasn't. It looked like clouds covered most of it, and what water he could see was more green than blue. What little land he could see was darker than he thought it should be as well. The sight brought him back to reality, and the fact that something was horribly wrong on that little planet that was his home. More memory came flooding back. `MY KIDS!' roared through his mind, and he cast out with his mind to the planet so far away, searching for them. He couldn't find them, so he bent down, picked up a small rock in his hand to remember this moment, and willed himself down to the planet, at one of the few spots of land he could see from here. As he appeared on a blasted mountainside, Justin finally saw first hand what his fight with Bjorn had resulted in. Below him, what had once most likely been a fairly large city was now a graveyard filled with rubble. He stood on what had once been a road, looking down at the carnage, and tears streaked down his face. He took a deep breath (not remembering he hadn't breathed in hours, and probably didn't need to now), and started coughing since it was filled with an acrid smell of hot sulfur. He felt like he was spinning, and weariness hit him like a rock. As he collapsed, he thought he could hear voices coming up the road from the direction of the now dead city. *** "Boy, get a blanket over him," the gruff voice said. On the edge of consciousness, but so tired and weak he was unable to respond, Justin tried to come fully awake but couldn't. As he faded back into sleep, he was dimly aware of a blanket being thrown around him, and strong hands lifting him off the ground. Again consciousness drew near him, and he could hear voices conversing quietly. "Boy, do you think he's gonna make it?" said the same gruff voice. "I don't know, Father. He might. He's pretty strong, but it feels like he's exhausted himself. I was only in training for a few months before you got me out of there." "You didn't think I'd leave my only son in the den of vipers, did ya? Besides, you belong here with me, doing the Lord's work. If you're right, and he's another boy like you, he might be useful. He looks young enough that I don't think he be unrecoverable. We might be able to save his soul like we did yours." "Thanks, sir. I'll keep watch on him and call if there's any change." "That's a good boy. We'd better get moving. Sitting here don't get us much closer to where we're goin'." The floor under Justin jiggled a little, like it was a vehicle. Some whistles in the distance sounded off and the floor rocked like it was in motion. Dizziness made his head spin and washed him into the gentle blackness. *** Thirst raked his throat, and a throbbing in his head greeted Justin back to consciousness. It felt like every cell in his body cried out with weariness, but he was coming back awake now. He felt another presence nearby, and it felt him. "Father!" the young voice he'd heard earlier called out, "he's comin' around now." "It's about time!" the gruff voice said from somewhere nearby. "Two damn weeks he slept like a babe. I was just about to cut off his water ration since we started running low." As the man finished his sentence, Justin felt the vehicle he was in lurch with the man's weight climbing aboard. Justin opened his eyes and found himself in a history lesson. He was in what was obviously a covered wagon, straight out of the Wild West. Kneeling next to him was a young kid, about 14. The boy's dark bangs flopped over his eyes as he leaned over, putting his arms behind Justin's shoulder to help him to a sitting position. The boy was dressed oddly. His dark jacket, wide brimmed hat, and white shirt reminded Justin of something, but he couldn't pin it down. When he was in a sitting position, the owner of the gruff voice came into his view. The man was older, appearing to be in his late fifties. His stocky frame was covered in clothing similar to the boy's, but he had a long white beard which seemed to frame his craggy face with dignity. Seeing Justin was definitely awake, the man harumphed, and spoke. "Welcome back from the edges of death, young man. The Good Book exhorts us to help strangers in need, and I'm pleased that you are awake. What's your name?" "Ju, J..stan" Justin's throat was parched, and his voice unintelligible from the dryness. The boy next to him pulled a leather bottle out from somewhere and lifted it to his lips, letting warm water pour down his throat. "J'Stan?" the old man questioned, a frown on his face. "That's no Christian name I've ever heard before." His throat moistened by the water, Justin realized that the stories spread about him might make his name somewhat unpopular with many people, and a little circumspection might be in order. "Thank you," he said to the boy, then turned back to the older man. "Sir, my parents originally gave me another name, but, well, everyone heard stories and, um, well, it's not exactly a good name to have anymore." "No doubt, no doubt. I think I understand, young man. When we found you, you were alone. What happened to your parents?" "They, they're dead, sir. They died a while back and I've been on my own ever since then. After, after the quakes, well, things got a little rough for me and I haven't been able to find any of my surviving family. I guess I overdid it a bit." Sympathy touched the man's craggy features and he knelt down beside Justin. "Well, J'Stan, you might wish to thank God that we found you. I doubt you would have survived without help, and we had a run in with some bad people after we found you. If they'd found ya, they might not have been so generous." With the man's talk of God and such, combined with the man's clothing, Justin placed where he'd seen it before. Mennonite, or maybe Amish. Definitely religious, very religious. He was still too weak to set out on his own, and something was compelling him to stay. Which meant he had to try to fit in. "Thank you for your kindness, sir. I've heard the story of the Good Samaritan, and I can understand now how the man felt when he was rescued." The old man's features went blank in surprise and he raised an eyebrow at the young man. "Your parents did a good job raising you, young man. At least you're polite and have heard something of the Good Book." "They always felt it was important for me to learn the Bible, sir, and to be polite to others." "Well, I'm doubly glad to have picked ya up, boy. You've got two choices as I see it. If you don't want to travel with us, you can set out on your own. We'll let ya keep the clothes you're wearing now, and give ya a waterskin. Your other choice is to come with us." "Where we heading, sir?" "Already decided, eh? I appreciate a man able to make his decisions quickly, especially when I think they're the right ones. "We are a good, God-fearing community of people. We follow God's laws as he set them down." Placing his hand on the boy's shoulder, he puffed up with a little pride, but something else riding underneath the pride. "This is my boy, Adam. He will teach you of what you need to know, and help you keep out of trouble. He's a good boy now, and will help you out. As for where we're heading, why, the Promised Land!" As he finished, he turned and jumped out of the wagon, leaving him alone with the boy. Seeing that Justin could now sit up on his own, Adam rocked back on his heels and rested against the side of the wagon, staring at him with an odd look on his face. Justin summoned just enough strength to reach out with his mind and brush the boy's. He was gifted. "I was a trainee," Adam began without any prompting. "They'd caught me a few months before the quakes and sent me to the training center. My first leave came and I chose to go home, I missed my family. At first, Father didn't want anything to do with me, but then he relented. When it was time to go back, he rescued me from the instructors who'd come to pick me up. We started packin' up to move out when the tremors began. I don't know what I did, but somehow I saved the wagons and our people. He was awful proud of me. Ever since then he's been working to cast out the bad parts while lettin' me use my powers to help, and he's kept it secret from the others." "Oh," was all Justin could think to say. "J'Stan. That's not your real name," Adam said, certainty in his voice. "I have to tell Father if you lie, but you didn't really lie. You just told him parts of the truth. You look my age, but I don't think you are, are you?" For a moment, Justin thought of how to respond, then decided on the truth, or at least some it. "No, I'm older. But I never was trained as a Shaper. You might say that I was out of reach for a while." "I KNEW it!" Adam breathed, barely audible but with force. "You feel familiar, like this guy I knew. He gave me my basic orientation when I first arrived. He was a senior student, his parents were on the Eastern Americas Council. You feel similar to him." "What was his name?" Justin asked, knowing he really shouldn't, but drawn to. "Tad. His sister was Erica. Do you know them?" "Yes, they're family," Justin said, not sure where this would lead. "Great! I really liked Tad. He was sooo nice to me when I got there. Made me feel good. Um, don't tell Father I said that, please? I'm not supposed to think good thoughts about anyone there. Especially him. Dad said Erica was ok, but not Tad. That makes the evil thoughts come." The excitement that had first shown on Adam's face turned into trepidation and fear at the last. "Don't worry, Adam, I won't say anything. I think I understand what kind of thoughts you're talking about," Justin said, the respect he had started to feel for the kid's dad fading into sorrow at that age-old problem between gay children and religious parents. "Do you need something to eat? We're on short rations but I think we can find something, especially if you can help out like I do. We can't do anything obvious enough to make the rest of the people suspicious, but we can do things that Father will pass off as another miracle from God." "Thanks, but I don't really need to eat. The water was more than enough. Speaking of which, did I hear that water's a problem?" "Yeah, we haven't found drinkable water in days, and the barrels are starting to run low." "How about we make a deal here, between the two of us?" "What kind of deal?" Adam said, concern in his voice. "Nothing that I don't think is fair and legitimate, Adam. Just this, you won't share private information about me with anyone else here, I won't share anything you tell me. If you think something will cause harm to your family, or anyone in the group, you can tell them anything you want. I also promise to never lie to your Father, and to help out all I can. In return, you help me learn the ways of your Father and this group. Okay?" "I decide if something is dangerous?" Adam asked quietly. "Yes, you decide. I trust you." "Agreed then," Adam said with certainty, reaching his hand out, and shaking to seal the deal. The next few days passed quietly for Justin. He spent most of the time in the wagon with Adam. They left only a few times for the evening prayer service conducted each night before dinner was ready. During these services, he got to know the rest of Adam's family. Sarah was the wife of Father (no one ever said the man's first name, everyone called him Father or Father Morgan). A no-nonsense woman, she nevertheless welcomed Justin warmly, treating him like another son. Adam was their only child, but there were plenty others in the group. All together, they totaled 30 families, each with at least one kid, most with more. Of the children, Adam and Justin were the oldest (and since the two let the others assume Justin was his age, no one really doubted he was other than a well behaved boy.). Most of the other children ranged in age from 12 on down to toddlers. At nights after prayer and dinner, the two boys 'supervised' the younger kids, and Justin realized that he enjoyed being younger again. At night the two slept under the wagon, with the rest of their family resting inside. Small tarps over the side gave them a little privacy, but the sleeping parents above ruled out verbal conversations. It was two days before Justin's abilities returned to a level where he could use them for more than a few moments. It seemed that he'd drained whatever powered his abilities to near nothingness. Maybe there were some limits on what he could do after all. By the end of the fourth day, he decided he was up to a mental conversation with his new friend. After they'd played with the younger children for a while, then ushered them off to beds, the two made their way under the wagon and crawled into their separate blankets. After the tarps were down for a little privacy, Justin rolled onto his side and looked over at Adam, who was watching him. 'Adam, what is this promised land your Dad is taking us to?' 'I don't know, J'Stan,' Adam said. Justin had never told him his real name, and Adam had decided to not pursue it. 'Well, at least we were able to fill the water barrels today. That should help some. I'm worried about the food supply. It doesn't look like too many animals survived the cataclysm..' 'Armageddon,' Adam interrupted. 'Sorry, Armageddon,' Justin sent, still careful of the boy's steadfastness in the faith of his father. 'If we don't find a food source soon, things could get ugly.' 'Do you think we'll be able to pull a miracle off that would satisfy the group and keep us from being revealed?' 'Hmmm...I don't know. Maybe, if things got really bad we could pull off Loaves and Fishes type miracle. Have your dad break bread into pieces and hand it out, then refill the basket of bread each time. I'm getting stronger again and should be able to keep it up for a bit, and you're coming along pretty well too.' 'Thanks. Your teaching me really helps too. It's so different from what they taught at the school. There they put all this mumbo jumbo in it, and tried to make it seem like it was a divine right. You don't think that way. You," Adam paused and Justin could see a slight blush in the boy's face, "You actually don't think of the others as being inferior. Even Tad had a hint of that kind of thinking in him. He just acted naturally superior. You don't. And the way you play with the kids, it's like you aren't really older than you look. You like playing too much to be a real adult.' Justin almost let himself laugh aloud at that, but didn't want to wake the parents above them (they'd almost come to feel like parents - especially the lecture from Father Morgan on fornication, and the evils of homo-sex-u-ality as he pronounced it). 'I had a friend, well, to me it was just a little while ago. Old Alan was 60 when he learned he could change his form. He turned himself into a teenager and spent weeks running around playing. He told me that he'd missed his time as a kid and was just enjoying it too much to be an adult for a while. I guess I'm feeling the same way now.' "Dear Lord God," Adam whispered into the night. Then continued mentally, at a shout, 'YOU'RE HIM! YOU'RE JUSTIN! Tad told me about Alan Mills, and..ah..ah about you. The real story. But you're supposed to be dead!' In the dimness, Justin could tell that Adam's face had gone totally white. Concern filled him, he didn't want to cause this boy any harm, and he still wasn't strong enough to do much. 'Adam, please. Don't be afraid' 'Afraid? I'm not afraid,' Adam's mind voice said. 'I'm just surprised is all. Tad told me you were a good person, and wouldn't have liked the way things were going. I've seen how you feel about my family, and the group, you aren't like most of the others I met. Tell me what happened, and how you came back.' So, Justin reached out to the boy, and shared his memories of all that had happened, from the mission where he'd faced the traitor Corcoran to when he'd killed Bjorn in the cavern far below the surface of the Earth. When he was done, Adam just laid back in his blankets for a while. Justin began to be worried, until he felt a thought come from him. 'How could a love like that be evil?' 'Love?' Justin asked, bewildered at the question. 'The love you had with Curtis and Jason. It was so real, so deep. How could something like that be evil?' 'I don't believe it was evil,' Justin replied after a moment's thought. It'd been ages since he'd had this discussion with someone, and he liked it less than he had the last time. 'But the Bible, but Father, says that it is.' Adam's thoughts were weak, and seemed to be boiling over. 'The Bible says a lot of things, Adam. We have to decide for ourselves what to accept and not accept. Your Father is a good man, but even good men can make mistakes. Trust me on that one. You can disagree with him, without having disrespected him. You have to make your own choices eventually in life.' 'What about God?' 'Don't know. Never met him. Until I do, I've lived by the principle of trying to do good by people I meet.' 'How's killing millions of people while hunting down a murderer helping?' Damn, the kid loved to jump from topic to topic. Pain lanced through Justin at that memory, but he faced it as a part of his life that he'd have to deal with forever. 'It didn't help. That's what happens when you let yourself be ruled by emotions. Don't get me wrong, emotions are good. But emotions are also powerful. I had repressed my emotions, kept myself from feeling things. Then I let them out of the bottle with the twins. When the twins were gone, I lost control. Losing control at that moment is probably the worst thing I have ever done.' 'What about Bjorn? If what happened here happened all over the world, there's got to be more than a few million dead.' 'If what I saw from the moon is any indication, I'd guess billions. But, that was Bjorn. Not me.' 'But aren't you responsible? I mean it was you chasing him that did it.' 'You familiar with policemen?' Justin asked, searching for a way to explain what he felt and believed. 'Yes, there were some back in the town we lived in. Father said they were decent men, even if they answered to Shapers. There was even a robbery once that they stopped. The robbers had guns, but the police shot them dead.' 'Let me ask you a what-if question here,' Justin responded, glad for the opening he didn't expect, ' What if those robbers had taken a hostage, and before the police could stop them, had killed that hostage. After the hostage was dead, the police then killed the robber. Do you blame the policeman for the death of the hostage?' 'No,' Adam answered after a long pause for thought. 'The robber shot the hostage, not the cop.' 'But, if the policeman hadn't been there, they wouldn't have shot the hostage.' 'Okie, but then they'd have gotten away, and the cop wouldn't have been doing his duty.' 'Bjorn had to be stopped. Of all the people with our abilities, I was the only one with a chance of stopping him. What should I have done?' Understanding lit the boy's face, then sympathy. 'You still feel responsible, don't you?' "Yes," Justin whispered, pain in his voice, conscience demanding utterance. Tears for the dead streaked his face and Adam reached over and squeezed his hand in comfort. 'I always will feel responsible no matter how many times I or anyone else says otherwise. Looking back, with hindsight, there were probably other ways I could have achieved the goal of killing Bjorn. But what's done is done, and can't be changed.' 'Why? Why can't you go back in time and fix things?' 'I did it once, to bring the twins and my family back to life. My sister died anyway, and a few years later, so did the twins. Maybe we can change time for a few years, but I don't think it'll let us change it for more than a few years. Also, something happened when I did it. It felt like I had made a tear in reality. If we hadn't been able to stop it, it would have kept growing until nothing was left. It was hard to close as it was, and was like a rip in your shirt that is sewn up. It's fixed, but still there, a weak point. If it happened again, who'd know what would happen.' 'Oh,' was all Adam said. His eyes were closing in exhaustion, and Justin laid back down, seeking sleep himself. Adam still held his hand, and it felt good. *** More weeks had passed as the wagon train made its way through several mountain passes. The geography had changed so much little was recognizable. As time went by, Justin began to realize what Father Morgan was searching for. Arable land. Nothing they passed through could support as many people as they had here. The further they traveled, the more the food supplies dwindled. As the food supplies dwindled, so did the available breeding stock to make new food. During those weeks he grew closer and closer to Adam, and was glad of the kid's company. Father Morgan even seemed to become more friendly as they traveled. It didn't hurt that they'd found ways to stretch food supplies, make water, fix wagon wheels, even one time fixed a broken axle before anyone realized it was broken. With that, Father Morgan was extremely thankful, and praised them in private, even mentioning their work as helping to earn their salvation. Justin had kept from snorting, but barely. It was late one night, and they were both asleep under the wagon as usual. Ever since that first night of conversation, they'd gone to sleep holding hands, and that made Justin feel a lot more comfortable. During the nightly conversation, and training, the two were close, and Justin had taken to entering a light rapport with the boy to train him. This rapport had some side effects, one of which really concerned him. He'd grown to love the boy, much like he loved his son Alan, but the boy didn't return that affection. It was worse. Adam had a full fledged crush on him. Between the fact that Justin discouraged it (he was over 50 now!) because of the kid's age, and his father's beliefs on the evil of that love, Adam was being torn in two emotionally. Too tired to continue the mental wrangling on how to solve the personal problems with Adam, he let his mind drift off to sleep. A dream came almost immediately. He could hear Erica and Tad calling his name over and over through a black void. He could also hear other voices calling him, but they were more faint. Indecision gripped him, but he wiped it away and called out their names, hoping they'd hear. With a snap, they appeared in front of him in the void. When they saw him, they cried out in joy and wrapped him in a hug. Their minds touched his and showed him a small green valley, with makeshift buildings dotting it in a neat and orderly fashion. He understood, this was where they were. He woke with a start, nearly hitting his head on the floor of the wagon. Without a second of thought, he pictured that valley in his mind, and jumped. His kids were alive! In the makeshift village, it was early morning, the sky just beginning to lighten with the coming dawn. A door opened in the nearest building, and three figures ran from the door towards him. The lead figure, Erica, was dressed in nothing but a white shift. The other two were only clad in white briefs. As his three kids wrapped their arms around him, crying with joy, Justin collapsed in joy, home at last. *** "I like the longer hair, Dad. But I don't like the fact that I look older than you," Alan said, once they were all comfortable inside the house. In the front room, all of the extended family was sitting down, all waiting to hear Justin's story. Henry and David sat on a couch, with all five of their children either on the couch with them, or on the floor in front (their children were all boys, and all were 18, soon going on 19). Justin sat on the room's other couch, with Alan and Erica beside him, and Tad sitting on the floor at his feet. Justin chuckled at his youngest son's comments, and purposely made sure his physical appearance stayed that of a fourteen year old. It was fun to joke around like that. "I just don't feel like growing back up yet, son. Your namesake taught me that." Everyone in the room laughed gently. They'd all heard the story as kids and loved hearing about the irascible old man Alan had been named for. But, neither Henry or David would let Justin off so easily. They knew him better than anyone else still alive, and knew when he was trying to stall. "Well, since we founded this little place with the few survivors we could find, looking old has not been something that seemed wise. We need all the strong backs we can get to keep things together," Henry said (he looked once more the handsome man in his early thirties as Justin had met him). "I'm just happy we were able to save as many as we were," David said. "One minute we're getting ready for a counterattack from the European and Asian groups, the next the world was falling apart. Jaz, baby, I'm sorry but you're gonna have to tell us what happened." Taking a deep breath, Justin launched into the story of his finding Bjorn, the man's death, his own awakening, the trip to the moon, and the last weeks in the wagon train. When he was done, he also told them something he had only realized when he kept feeling the spurts of pain every time someone said 'Jaz'. "Justin Ackeman died in that cave, along with most of the world. He's dead as surely as if I had never made it out. From now on, I want to be known as J'Stan. I don't think I could bear the constant reminders of things if I continued with that name." Alan's young face took on a hurt look, and his eyes had pain in it like the first time he'd met the boy. "You..you don't want us anymore?" he stuttered, on the edge of tears. Shocked, J'Stan wrapped his youngest son in his arms, and let the tears flow once more. "Of course I do, Son. I love you and I'll never stop loving any of you kids. It's only that my old name has too much pain associated with it. Changing my name doesn't have anything to do with you three. In fact, I'd say that you three are the main reason I didn't just let myself die out there on the moon. It would've been real easy, but when I saw Earth come over the horizon, I knew I had to go back and find you. It's just that I was too weak to find y'all. It took me weeks to get strong enough again, and I'm still weak." "I love you, Dad," Alan said simply, echoed by Erica and Tad. "As long as you're not leaving us." "Never, Son, never, Erica and Tad," J'Stan assured them As the four of them comforted each other, Henry and David looked on, tears in their eyes, hands locked together. Just before the silence became unbearable, the man they now called J'Stan looked up, smiled at them and their kids, and said, "Looks like y'all are going to have to fill me in again on what's happened while I was gone. That's something that's going to have to change soon too. I hate having to be filled in." Everyone laughed feebly, while David took the role of filling him in. "Well, a little and a lot has happened. After I left you in Stockholm, I went back to the bunker where we were hiding the kids. Most of the people that had joined our rebellion were there, or were out checking on cities under our control. When the tremors started, we thought it was some type of attack from the others. We set up a shield on the room, and it's a good thing we did too." "The bunker," Henry interjected, "was right next to a geological convergence, which erupted into a full blown volcano during your fight. If we hadn't been there, everyone in the base would have been killed." "As it was, we lost some people," David continued. "We had the same problem teleporting that you did. Finally, Alan came up with an idea, and talked about it with Erica and Tad. Those two got the rest of the kids together and melted their way through the surface. Once they got there, they could teleport back in and, with all of our help, we got everyone in the base out." The three kids around J'Stan blushed at that, but he looked at them proudly. Sure, he hadn't done much to raise them, but he was still proud. "After a lot of searching, we realized that except where enough of us were present, pretty much everything was destroyed. We tried finding you for a few days, but none of us could. Then we realized that our food supplies from the base wouldn't last forever." "There's one thing I've learned from the fight with Bjorn," Justin interrupted. "We don't really need food. I haven't eaten in over a month and I don't feel the need. I mean, I could if I wanted to, but I don't need to. Water either. Even at my weakest point, that wasn't necessary although it did help to orient me a little." "Yeah, we found pretty much the same thing when a bunch of us stopped eating to save food for the normals," said John, Henry's dark haired oldest son. "I don't like that word, young man," Henry scolded gently. "It implies too much of a separation between us and the rest of our people." "Anyways, none of the Shapers in our group have eaten in the last three weeks," David said, returning to the subject. "But, everyone else here does need to eat. Most of them are military type people, and have very little experience farming. Add to that to the fact that we have little seed stock and farming is rough. We've been able to shape much of the land around here so it is suitable for farming, but without something to grow, it's almost useless." Immediately the image of Father Morgan's wagons, loaded with everything necessary to start farming, came to J'Stan's mind. There was only one problem, the man's beliefs would clash with the people here, and he seriously doubted the man would consent to go back to living with heathen Shapers. But, something had to be tried, besides he found himself actually liking the man. "What have you done about running this place?" he asked his old friends, hoping for some good news. He got it. "Just what we all talked about during those weeks in the apartment, J'Stan," David said. "We had a big meeting about two weeks ago. Would you believe Alan was the person who actually ran it?" Henry said, making Alan blush. "Well, then, I think my son ought to tell me about it since he ran it," J'Stan said, feeling pride swell once more. "It was a little hard at first," Alan said, his voice starting soft, but growing in strength as he continued. "At first, everyone was just happy to be alive. I spent a lot of time with most of them since I didn't have the ability to do what the others were doing. But every night I'd go back and stay with my family like we always did. "Once things got settled a little, and everyone had shelter, I was meeting with the people who were leading the groups without abilities. There was a lot of talk about this being their fault and that we shouldn't be letting them stay around. There was also a lot of resentment from the way the Shapers' Accords had been thrust on everyone, and many were afraid that it would happen again. "But, they were puzzled by something and that was the only reason no one had taken action yet. They were confused about my role in our family, and why I would spend all day with with the normals but go home every night to a bunch of Shapers. They thought I was being dumped on or something, but I always acted excited to go home and see my family and that didn't fit with the way they thought things were." Alan's gentle laugh filled the room for a moment, then he continued. "They were surprised as hell when I told them how I was treated as an equal by the family, and encouraged to do the things I was good at, not pine away after the things I couldn't do. I must have talked to them for hours past dark when Papa David came in. Everyone was scared at first of him, but then he just said, 'Ah, you are ok, Alan. We were worried about you when you didn't come home as usual. Don't let me stop your visiting with friends, we'll leave some dinner for you when you do get home,' then he turned and just walked out!" Shaking his head a little at the memory, Alan looked over at David and smiled. "For some reason, that convinced everyone that what I'd been saying was true. Then they asked me if there could be a meeting to talk about how the village would be run. They wanted me to do it since they trusted me, and felt the Shapers here would trust me as well. Hell, half them are in my extended family so they thought I'd make a good go-between." "And he has been," Henry interjected. "He ran that meeting real well, and the things that were decided there have really helped things stay calm." "So, how about telling me what was decided?" J'Stan said, and everyone laughed. "Easy," Alan said. "For now, until things get stable, we are one big family, whether Shaper or not. Everyone chips in with their best effort and work at doing things to help the entire community. People who repeatedly don't work get punishment like no food, or isolation for a Shaper. Those who continue to resist will be expelled, but so far no one has even come close. There's a Village Council which was elected at the meeting. Anyone is eligible for it, and everyone over 16 votes for it. Everyone's equal, has one vote, etc. The Council picks a Mayor. If the Village doesn't like a decision, they can call for a meeting of the entire Village and have a vote taken (it takes more than a small group to call the meeting, but we haven't even had someone try to yet.). "Further, we drew up a Bill of Rights kinda like the old U.S. But it's a lot simpler. There are two of them. One is that no rule or law shall be made which abrogates the right of an individual to lead their life in a way that does not harm others. That includes who they sleep with, what god they pray to, all that stuff. It doesn't protect people who would rape or murder someone, even if they claim it was their religious right. Two is that all members of the community are equal in importance, and equal in their rights. No law shall be made which puts any group above that of the others." "So far," Henry said, "it has worked pretty well. There have only been a limited number of laws passed by the Council, mostly dealing with rights of ownership and distribution of food and work. However, the food situation is becoming critical since the food we make with our abilities is not as nutritious as real food." "Then I might have a solution to two problems," J'Stan said, smiling at his son. "Father Morgan, and his people. Well, let's just say I can't help myself to like them. He has that damn conviction about gay people being evil, but other than that I think he really is a good person. His group won't survive. I was working on a plan to scout ahead of them and make some land arable, like you've done here, but wasn't strong enough yet to do it. I'm still not." "I remember his son, Adam," Tad said quietly. "He's a good kid, really kind and caring about others. He had a lot of the same prejudices from his father, but he was really starting to turn into a good trainee. I remember feeling worried when they finally gave him his first leave and he chose to go home, but didn't say anything." "Yes," said Erica. "When we got the word from David to head to the hiding place, I'd just heard that he hadn't returned and they were sending two Guardians to go get him. I wanted to do something, but I couldn't without risking everything else that was going on. At least the two they sent weren't good people. I'm actually glad they're no longer around." "Erica, that's not a nice thing to say, but an understandable one," J'Stan chided his daughter gently. "Now here's what I'm thinking. We really should get as many people together in one place. It's safer for them. However, Father Morgan and his group won't want to 'join' the community we have here totally. But I think that I might be able to convince them to settle near here, on land that totally belongs to them, and we can trade with them. "In return for arable land, they provide the village with basic seed stock, some breeding livestock when they get enough bred, and other sundries that they may have to share. I think we'll also be able to work out some other deals. For instance, his punishment for most things that we would object to is banishment. If someone decided he didn't want to live by their rules, or was gay, Father Morgan will banish him." "And our village will have a new member," Erica said with conviction. "Exactly," J'Stan confirmed. "We'll probably also have to work out hundreds of little details, but the basic plan is a good one." "I don't like it," Henry said. "I don't like helping out a bigot who can't accept people for who they are, or would cast someone out because of who he loves." "Henry, I don't like that side of the man, either," J'Stan answered in a firm voice. "But Tolerance means more to me than people accepting ME. It means that I have to accept things about THEM I don't like. In this case, it means that I have to accept his dislike of me and people like me." "I said I don't like, not that I can't accept it," Henry said, a little miffed. "Alan, this is a big decision. We'll have to have you take it to the Council and see if they agree to it. We might even want to have a Village Vote on it, like we did when we set things up." "Yeah, Dad. Everyone will have to vote on this, it's a pretty big decision," Alan agreed. "Ok by me. But there's a little problem," J'Stan said, looking out the window to see the sun now over new mountains in the east. "I've been here a few hours, if they wake up and I'm not there, we are not going to earn their trust. I have to go back and continue with them." "I thought you might say that when you stayed looking young," David said. "It's ok, Dad," Erica said. "We know you'll come back to us." "I told all three of you that, didn't I?" J'Stan said, looking at his three children. "I meant it. I'm so proud of all three of you. Each of you are becoming good leaders, and you've made me proud. Give me a shout when you've reached a decision." With tears threatening, J'Stan concentrated for a moment and disappeared from the couch without bothering to stand up. *** 'Where were you?!' Adam shouted mentally as soon as he reappeared, lying flat on his blankets (if he'd reappeared sitting up, he'd have hit his head on the wagon floor). 'My family reached me last night,' J'Stan answered calmly. 'So, now that he is recovered, the great Justin Ackeman is leaving us to be with his precious family?' Adam sent, pain and scorn in his voice. In the early morning twilight, J'Stan could see the pain on Adam's face, and the young man's chin quivering. 'No, J'Stan is staying for a while with the good people who saved his life,' he responded, reaching out to hold that quivering chin. 'I'm going to need to speak to Father Morgan before we break camp today. I learned something on my trip that might help everyone out. I promise you, I won't leave you or the rest of this group unless I have no choice.' Relief flooded Adam's face, and his chin stopped quivering. 'Okie. If you say it, I believe you.' 'There's one thing though. When I spoke with my family tonight, I knew that I had changed, that I was no longer the person I had been, nor do I want to constantly keep reminding people of the past whenever they said my name. From this point on, Justin Ackeman is dead. I am J'Stan now.' A smile stretched Adam's face and he leaned into J'Stan, giving him a hug. When J'Stan pulled back a little he sent, 'I don't care what father thinks.' 'I do,' J'Stan replied, still keeping the conversation non-verbal. 'As long as we are traveling with him, we live by his rules.' He'd use Father Morgan's opinions to keep the young man cool for a while. As for later, when they reached the village (if they reached it), he'd find some other way to let him down easily. "BOYS!" Father Morgans gruff voice called out in the early morning. "Let's get this group moving! We've got a lot of ground to cover today" Hurriedly, the two cleaned up their blankets and came out from under the wagon and started the now familiar routine of getting things ready for moving out. Once the scouts were out, horses and mules hitched, and everything ready to head out, breakfast was served. Eating with Father Morgan's family, J'Stan tried to think of how to have the discussion with the man in private. Father Morgan solved it for him when they'd finished the light meal (J'Stan hadn't really eaten, just made it look like he had. Later, Adam and he would give the food to the younger children). "J'Stan, I'd like you to join me this morning in some scouting. Do you think you're up to a horseback ride?" "Yes, sir. I would love to," he answered, pleased, and a little nervous at the turn of events. As the final preparations were made to move out, and the first set of scouts returned, J'Stan joined Father Morgan on a pair of horses, and the two took off. Once the wagons had not been visible for a while, Father Morgan reined in his horse and turned to face J'Stan. Both men were armed with rifles slung in saddlebows, and the weapons remained there. As J'Stan halted his horse in front of the man, Father Morgan spoke, "Young man, I must say that I am fairly happy with the work you have contributed since you've recovered, but we still need to talk." "Thank you, sir," J'Stan answered cautiously. "There's a lot we've spoken about, and a lot we've ignored. I'm sorry, but we can't ignore some things anymore. First off, Adam's told me that you've never lied to me, but that you've sometimes held things back. I can understand that, and it's not really a sin. But, first things first, what's your real age?" "Sir, I don't mean to be disrespectful, but there's a couple of ways to answer that and be absolutely truthful in both situations. Do you mean how many years have passed since I was born, or do you mean how many years have I lived?" The look Father Morgan gave him was a comic struggle between curiosity and anger. Finally he said "Both." "Well, then, as near as I can tell it's been 56 years since I was born, and I have lived through 41 of them." "Either way, that makes you near the same age as me. Why the deception?" Morgan's tone was cold now, and J'Stan knew it was thin ice he danced on. "At first it was inadvertent. My control isn't always perfect, and before you found me I was remembering a happy dream I had as a kid. I was tired and my body changed to how I looked at that age. It stayed even when I was unconscious. After I woke up, any changes would have been hard for me, or you, to explain and I didn't want to repay your kindness that way." "Still, son," Morgan said, voice still cool, "I don't appreciate being deceived like that. Did you believe it was really necessary?" J'Stan looked the man in the eyes for a few moments, then answered truthfully, "At first, yes. I was too weak to defend myself if you reacted badly. Now, well, let's just say that I've come to respect and care for you, even if I don't agree with you." "Son, I still worry about your eternal soul, but I have come to care for you too. The question still remains, what do we do with you?" "I have an idea of how I can help you out, sir," J'Stan began, seizing the chance. "But it will require your support and cooperation." "What's the idea?" Father Morgan said, some trepidation creeping into his voice. "My family, and friends, have actually set up a settlement. As near as anyone can tell, there's no land anywhere fit for farming or habitation. They've been able to make some land habitable, and fit for farming. The only problem is, they don't have seed or livestock." "Which we have, but no land to use it on," Father Morgan said, "I am not sure it's a good idea, son. I killed a couple of 'em when I took my boy back, and I don't exactly like the idea of living under Shaper thumbs again." J'Stan shook his head a little and looked the man right in the eye. "Father, the men you killed weren't exactly friends of ours. Neither Henry or David supported the formation of the Shapers' Council or the Shapers' Accords. They realized that their opposition would have done nothing at the beginning, so they worked in secret. The settlement the're at is not run by them. It's run by a village council elected by all the people living there." "So everyone is equal?" "Yes, sir. But I don't think you or your people would really want to be a part of the community there. Your beliefs, and those of most of the community there now would conflict." "What do you have in mind then?" Morgan asked, hesitantly. "Simple enough. Right now, David, Henry, and their kids are 'shaping' some land for you and your people. I promise you, sir, that this land will be good for farming, and your people will be able to thrive there. It's real close to the settlement, just a few miles away. That means that you'll get to trade with them, and they'll be able to help you out when needed. I think it's a win-win situation, if you're willing to trust me." "That's a mighty fine offer, son, but what do they want in return?" "Starter seed, breeding livestock when you can spare some, help farming, neighborly stuff. In return, you get the land, and help when you need it." "What about how we live our lives, our faith?" "That's a little more touchy subject. There are certain areas, certain crimes, where both sides will be in agreement. Rape, murder, theft, are crimes for both groups. Other things aren't. I've been with you for a little while now, and I've gotten familiar with your ways, sir. When someone breaks the rules which aren't in agreement with the settlement's, what happens to those people now?" "Banishment. We send them on their way, no longer welcome back." "Where they'll find a nice new home in the settlement with us. Unless they're murderers, rapists, thieves, or others like that. If you are neighborly enough to let us know which are which, we'll make sure those get shown the settlement's gates as well. Otherwise, we'll take the others and give them a chance in our community." "What if someone from your side wants to join us?" "That's their choice, sir. If someone prefers your way of life, they can ask your leave to join you. It's between you and them." "I'll have to put it to the group." "Of course, sir." "Will you come back with me to answer questions? I'd like to do it tonight when we stop for the night, give me some time to think about it." "No problem, my family expects me to stay with you for at least another day. They know that the time with you has done me some good. In fact, that's an idea you might want to explore. I feel like I've been on retreat here. It's helped remind me of some things I've forgotten over the last few years." "What, letting people come into our settlement for a retreat? If we did that, they'd have to follow OUR rules." Father Morgan harrumphed. "It wouldn't be worth it if you didn't, sir," J'Stan answered, a soft chuckle escaping him. Father Morgan just shook his head, smiling a little as he led his horse back towards the direction the wagons should be. The two men rode in silence, each thinking about possibilities of what lay ahead. J'Stan wondered at the way he was feeling. While he didn't exactly feel happy, like he had before..they died...he did feel content. At least that was the word closest to describe how he felt. After the pain and hurt of the last few months, it was nice to feel that way. Relaxing in the saddle of the gentle mare he was riding (he still was not used to riding horses), he allowed himself to enjoy the feelings of contentment. As they topped a small hill, they could see Father Morgan's followers ahead. The long wagon train was flanked by outriders, several of whom spotted the two and waved. The feeling of contentment J'Stan was enjoying vanished when he felt something stirring. He was too far away for his shouted warning to be heard, and too weak to do anything as lightning appeared out of the clear sky towards the wagons moving below. He nearly fainted in relief when a glowing shield appeared around all the wagons just in time to stop them. Spurring his horse on, J'Stan moved towards the wagons as fast as the mare could carry him. He ignored the shouted questions from Father Morgan, but the man was soon riding next to him. "Who's doing this?" the outraged man shouted. "I DON'T KNOW!" J'Stan shouted as the two men raced for the shield now protecting the wagons. Under that shield, the men and women were circling the wagons, preparing themselves for the next attack. J'Stan and Father Morgan were racing their horses towards them, but had covered less than half the distance when the air in front of J'stan's mare swirled. The mare splayed her legs, coming to a stop, then reared and pawed the air, unseating him. The fall knocked the breath out of him, and he could only stare as the mare bolted off. The tall figure that had appeared was dressed in the white and blue uniform that had been adopted by the Shapers. It was marred suddenly by a sharp boom and the head of the man exploded. J'Stan sprang to his feet and looked behind him, where Father Morgan sat on his horse, rifle just being lowered. "Brace!" the man yelled as he kicked his horse towards J'Stan, leaning over, arm extended. When the man reached him, J'Stan reached out, grabbed the arm and swung up behind him. A quick thought formed a smaller shield around them as they raced towards the wagons. "Can we get through the shield?" Morgan asked his passenger. "We should," J'Stan said, sending his thoughts out to Adam. "I taught Adam how to make it, and he should recognize me when we reach it." "If we make it through this, I might just forgive you for seducing him." "Seducing him?" J'Stan exclaimed. "I haven't seduced him! He's just a kid." "You might not have seduced him physically, but you've definitely undone the good I've been trying to do." "With all due respect, this is not the time for this discussion, sir!" J'Stan shouted as they reached the barrier. Fortunately, Adam did recognize them and let them through the barrier he had erected. The young man was standing in the middle of the circled wagons, sweat running down his face. His black hair was limp with the sweat, and every muscle in his body seemed to be trembling with exhaustion. Father Morgan led the horse between two wagons and didn't stop until they were next to his son. J'Stan slid down the horse's lathered side while Morgan dismounted. Both of them reached the boy just as he collapsed to his knees. "Son," Father Morgan said, voice wavering as he grabbed the boy's left arm. "Adam," J'Stan got through his tightening throat as he grabbed the boy's right arm. "Can you hold on?" "Not, not sure," Adam breathed, barely audible. "They're just pushing against it now, feels like four or five of 'em." "I'll get help," J'Stan said as he focused his thoughts back towards the settlement, and his daughter. He was blocked though, by something unseen. He pushed hard, pushed so hard that he collapsed to his knees himself, but still couldn't break through. The last thing he heard was a groan from Adam as the barrier fell, and he was knocked unconscious by some unseen force. To be continued.