The next few moments came in snapshots, captured in perfect clarity. She snatched a pitchfork hanging off the wall and swung it at the mutation. The mutation raised a bony arm in defense. Metal caught bone, scraping across the entire surface, the protruded spikes rending sparks away from the pitchfork. She shoved the pitchfork at an angle, slipping past its bony forearm and stabbing the creature’s face.

Before it charged again, she snatched a second pitchfork and swung at its feet. The mutation leaped as the metal cut through air instead of flesh. At that instant, it shot an arm out, a biological whip striking her in the chest. She gasped. Fire bloomed where her ribs were. Her back screamed as she was thrown against the barn door, with its many ridges and notches digging into her skin and muscles.

Rain splattered onto her clothing. The impact had jostled the door open and now she was at the brink of being consumed by the storm. There was no hesitation. There couldn’t be any. She scrambled to her feet, holding back a scream as her chest burned, and shot out into the torrents of rain. It did little to cool the burn, but it did cool the rest of her body enough to distract from the pain. The blinding pain.

There was a path she had to take that led to farmer Orwen’s barn. She’d seen it somewhere around here, a dirt path devoid of the fields. Except all she saw now were stalks bent backwards as the wind strengthened. She ran along the perimeter of the field, hoping, praying that she found the path, because if she didn’t…

Something snarled somewhere nearby. The clearing around the barn wasn’t that big, but her distance from it and the rush of rain drowning out other sounds should’ve drowned out the mutation’s noise. Which meant it was close.

Cora lunged forward just as a bony arm swiped at the space she stood at a split second ago. In the rain, the mutation’s hair was matted to its dome-shaped head. She gagged at the exposed sores, welts, bruises, cuts, and other injuries running over its body. Tiny holes ran in a straight line across the left side of its bulbous face where she’d struck it with the pitchfork. From the contours of the hair, she guessed it had a nose and some semblance of a brow bone, with its lips nonexistent.

This creature had to feel every injury it’d sustained. The other one had screeched when its body was being blown up. Yet how could it continue chasing after her, fueled by some determination that eclipsed its own priority for self-survival? Then her memory flashed back to the single bony arm laying in the pit. This mutation had scavenged the remains of the other one and took them with it.

Cora, despite breaking out of her paralyzed state and bolting, with the creature prowling after her on all fours, felt the horror shatter into pieces and recombine itself at twice its original size with a single thread of sympathy tying it all together. This mutation was devastated at the loss of the other mutation, whatever it’s relation was to this one.

Except it was focusing its rage at her.

It didn’t take long for her to find the break in the fields that indicated the path. She broke several stalks reaching the path, the glorious absence of fields that only led in one direction, and one direction only.

Something bad must’ve happened to Mira and potentially Orwen, too. Rain never stopped a farmer unless there was lightning. Still, Cora had to try. She had to live. Her mother couldn’t lose another family member. Cora couldn’t lose that hope of breaking past Lazarus’s borders and exploring the world with Anna. Of humanity no longer being trapped by the radiation. There was just too much to lose to give up.

Past Orwen’s farm were more barns, and past that the main cobblestone street feeding into Lazarus. That was her original goal anyways. That was where she had to go, and from there… What was she expecting?

Orwen’s farm came into sight. It was massive, bigger than Mira’s, and new crops grew around it, corn leading to wheat. A distant flash of light seared through the gloom. Another one followed, followed by a roar that seemed to come from every direction. She risked a glance back. Her breaths caught in her throat. The mutation wasn’t following her, which meant one thing-

Instead of erupting in front of her, the ground lifted beneath her feet and she stood on a hard surface. The creature’s skull. The sheer amount of force propelling her upwards sent her spiraling, her sight a kaleidoscope of images unable to fit together, until an iron force wrapped around her torso, pressing her arms to her sides, jerking her to a stop. Another iron force bound her legs together, and she realized the creature had used both of its bony arms to immobilize her.

Her stomach curdled, a scream building at the base of her tongue. The mutation looked every bit as grotesque as the other one. The bottom of its face cleaved in half, exposing teeth that somehow looked more jagged than the first mutation’s own.

This was it. There was nobody around to help her. She’d die here halfway to salvation and nobody would ever know what happened to her. She squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to look anymore. Her limbs trembled, her teeth chattering, her heart beating too fast, fast enough to kill her if the mutation didn’t.

Would it kill her mercifully? Mercilessly? This creature was intelligent enough to mourn the other deceased mutation. Did that mean it was capable of revenge, too? Cora squirmed against her iron bindings, bone cutting into her skin, but she was beyond caring. She had to escape, she had to. Her eyes burned where tears came full-force.

But her end never came. Instead, she felt the palpable terror fade, not hiding, but disappearing. She pried open an eye. The mutation’s face began to change. Hair receded above its forehead. A glistening pink nose darkened and narrowed. Lips curved into existence around its mouth. Hair set over its brow bone, the milky eyes clearing up, two brilliant green ones staring back at her. Its skin, sallow and gaunt, darkened to a healthy brown shade. The four extra arms writhing around its torso crumbled to dust, the two arms holding her letting her go, and those two arms lost their bony spikes, becoming regular human arms.

Why was she afraid of this person again? What had she been running from? The human boy, whose face was as captivating as the man she’d seen piloting the old machine, pressed his hand into her shoulder. Nails bit into her skin, but she didn’t care.

It all made sense now. This mutation--this person--was fighting for his right to live in a world that wanted him dead from the start. He hadn’t been born lucky like she was. He had to make hard decisions that hurt, decisions that ultimately maintained the delicate balance in the hierarchy that governed what remained of the planet after the Great War’s devastation. A hierarchy that needed to be preserved or the scales would come crashing down, inviting entropy to erase what little was left.

Despite him not speaking a single word, she understood everything. She understood the role she had to play. There was no fear to be felt. This was a glorious opportunity she had to sacrifice herself to preserve that delicate balance. If this was the price of staving off anarchy for another day, then she was fine with it. Happy, even, because she’d die knowing she contributed something to this world.

As if he could sense her thoughts, he smiled. His hand gripped her shoulder a little harder. Another hand gripped her neck. Soon, her vision began to falter, her muscles growing weaker, as he continued to hold her.

She was fulfilling her duty to the hierarchy. A smile fluttered across her face.

Suddenly, pain jolted through her skull, laced her throat, stabbed through her shoulder. The two worn hands released her, clutching at his chest, where blood spurted out. His body shimmered, grotesque patches of skin slipping through the illusion, and those emerald eyes became fogged by clouds so dense she lost her balance, snapping that precious connection to the order she and he had to maintain.

The flickering boy screamed and yanked out an arrow that had speared through his ribs. As it ripped the arrow out, his true image rippled outwards, startling her. The mutation’s trunk dripped with blood that it staunched by pressing two small arms over both sides of the wound. Both of its bony arms raised at its sides, and she shrank back in fear, but it was looking at something else.

Cora blinked. In that moment, a large figure materialized out of the dim light, sailing through the air. A man, with a large beard and ferocious blue eyes, swung an axe down on the mutation’s neck. The mutation twisted to the side, dodging the blow, and swept the farmer--Orwen, probably--aside like a child’s toy. He landed on his feet, the axe clutched tightly in his bloodied hands, although that blood belonged to the mutation.

“Get out of here!” he roared, sparks flying in his eyes. She crawled away, unable to get up as her legs felt like jelly.

The illusion rippled where the mutation’s face was, becoming human and not human, his human expression twisted in agony. Another arrow flew out of the darkness and embedded itself in its thigh. Instead of ripping out the arrow, it lunged on all fours towards Orwen. He braced his shoulders and swung his axe a bit too late. The blade caught the mutation by the shoulder as its momentum hurled the mutation into his body, sending the both of them sprawling.

The mutation wasted no time bringing a bony arm down, the spikes elongating, about to decapitate Orwen, and Cora just stood there, unable to move fast enough, unable to stop it from happening-

A new form of lightning danced in the gloom. A blinding blue light struck the mutation’s bony arm. It crumbled beneath the blast, bone turned to dust, the fury etched on its face reduced to a pained expression.

Her jaw dropped. Was any of this real? Or was she in the barn, tending to the animals, distracting herself from her doubts about joining the farmers? Another blast of light evaporated the axe itself as it hurtled through the air towards her. Stray particles blew away, leaving a bitter smell behind.

She saw a new figure enter the battlefield. This one wore black hair tied into a ponytail, and had a sharp nose which meant this wasn’t Mira, who was probably staying out of sight, shooting arrows where needed.

Yesterday’s memories surfaced. Where her mind was hazy from whatever the mutation had done to her, that memory of the man in the lighthouse, Rhodes, was a perfect picture that matched the man holding some strange gun in both hands. Two prongs jutted out the barrel, and bluish energy crackled between both and fired as a single beam, melting a hole through the mutation’s abdomen.

Orwen stood and swung the axe at the mutation’s tendons connected to its feet. It dropped, unable to flee, unable to attack as Rhodes aimed his gun’s barrel a few feet away from the monster that had brainwashed her and almost killed her. Yet, seeing the sight of the poor, wretched creature at the mercy of a man she knew less about than the mutation itself sent a pang through her heart.

Whatever influence it’d had over her was still there. “Wait!” Immediately, she wished she could take back what she said. That wasn’t her speaking. It was the mutation. Something was wrong in her brain because she felt for the mutation. She’d jump in front of the gun in a heartbeat.

Slowly, Rhodes turned his head to see her, though his gun never budged from its position. He was every bit as stunning as that single memory showed her. Heat flushed her cheeks, warming the cold of the storm.

“Yes?” His voice was mellifluous. Deep, rich, baritone, the kind that made her want to listen to every word he said.

“You can’t kill it.”

“Perhaps.”

She narrowed her eyes. His straight posture betrayed no anxiety about this creature lunging at him or using its mental tricks the same way it did to her. His confidence meant he was a bigger fool than she’d thought about him or he went through this before.

“It can tap into your thoughts. It did something to me that makes me want to protect it.”

He turned away, staring at the mutation through the gun’s scope. Orwen dragged each side of his axe over the earth, replacing blood with mud. Mira finally appeared, her bun undone, and turned her back to them and aimed at some unknown target beyond Cora’s sight.

“You’re right. Talented osuns won’t hesitate to trick you, or kill you if it’s one of the lesser ones. This one’s gift captured you, sure, but it cannot hold influence over more than one mind at a time.”

“Does that mean if you kill it, I’ll stop wanting to protect it?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Of course.”

Another thought competed for space in her skull. “How come I’ve never seen one of these in the almanac?”

He bowed his head. “Osuns, for the most part, would’ve been added into the almanac if they manifested normal traits. But as I mentioned, there are a few talented ones that tap into your mind to sway you to their goals.”

“Then why not put them in the almanac?”

“Because according to him, he’d never thought to see osuns travel so far from their native mountain ranges. That, and their mental ability that other mutations don’t have,” Orwen said. He finished cleaning off the last of the blood and stretched, as carefree as if he hadn’t come a sliver of a fraction away from death. “I’ve never seen one of these creatures before, mind you. He has, though.”

Rhodes bowed his head. “I’ve been on many expeditions to the mountains to gather whatever rare plants I can find. I hadn’t told anybody about the rare creatures I found there, such as osuns, because I saw no point worrying people about a species that never leaves their territories. Until now, apparently.”

He eyed the osun curiously, bending down to see eye-to-eye. The gun was parallel to the fallen mutation, so another blast would melt straight through its body. Cora wanted to rush over to him and pull him back, but an equally strong reaction made her want to yank the mutation back to safety.

“Are you going to need a specimen to study, then?” Mira asked.

“I know their behaviors, but I don’t know their anatomy.”

Rhodes raised the gun and squeezed the trigger. The mutation collapsed, fluids leaking through a hole in its head. Some invisible bond snapped off Cora’s neck, taking away some, but not all of the pain, too. The world brightened, each shadow retreating back into the weakening storm above their heads, and the soft patter of rain on her skin dissipated the sympathy she felt for the creature. When she looked at it, she recoiled. Would she have the guts to do this to countless other mutations once she shared the same responsibility as all other farmers?

Rhodes’ fingers twitched as he powered off his gun. The currents of electricity died out, leaving a noticeable silence save for the pitter-patter of rain. He faced Mira. “I’ve never had the means to transport a body back to Lazarus to dissect these creatures. Now I do. Where’s the wagon and the horse?”

“Over here.” She led a mare, which in turn pulled a wagon behind it, not unlike the one Cora had used to haul all that dirt. If only horses were more common, one of them would have hauled all that dirt to the suaviberry hole instead of her. She patted at a jar strapped to her belt. “I also brought some incense.”

“Good, thank you. I don’t stick around long in the mountains, but the smell gets awful fast. Orwen, may you help me haul the body up? Osuns are heavier than they look.”

“Sure thing,” he said, stretching his arms and grabbing hold of the osun’s feet. Rhodes grabbed the other bony arm and its shoulder. Together, they grunted, lifting the body a few inches off the ground, dragging it over to the wagon, and with a final burst of strength threw the body on top. The wagon shuddered, the wooden frame looking like it was about to splinter, but it held.

Mira climbed onto the horse, leaning forwards slightly, and took off with a brisk snap of the reigns. The mare pulled the wagon easily enough behind her.

Orwen and Rhodes discussed something in private, their huddled forms the only signs of life apart from Mira and the horse, who trotted away at a steady pace. After a few minutes of deliberation--Cora fidgeting with her wet clothes, self-conscious of how they might’ve glued to her body and accentuated her natural curves and what Rhodes would think or say--he patted Orwen’s back and the farmer nodded gravely before racing to keep up with Mira.

Rhodes walked over to her. He ran both hands through his hair, wringing some water out, and then clasped his hands before him. “How do you feel?”

She shrunk beneath his scrutinizing gaze. Or perhaps that was how he looked at everybody, with calculating, intelligent eyes that reminded her of those vivid green eyes that turned out to be a lie.

“I feel fine, I guess. I don’t feel anything for that… osun.” Or feel anything else. The entire experience felt like a faded nightmare, a wisp of memory she could disperse by focusing on anything else. She knew she should’ve felt something, but the fear and panic refused to come. Perhaps it’d come later. She hoped it’d never come.

“I mean how do you feel? That osun almost killed you. Are you okay?”

She was anything but okay. Why wasn’t she feeling anything? “I-I don’t know.”

He nodded as if it all made sense. As if he had the answer as to why she felt so numb about the whole encounter. Which he probably knew. “I’d suspected the talented osuns could numb emotions once they controlled you. I think my hypothesis was proven correct. So you’re sure you don’t feel anything?”

“One hundred percent.” If she had felt something, she didn’t think she’d be able to speak coherently.

“That’s good. In case you were wondering, I’ve gotten into a few situations like yours and escaped without feeling anything about them. I’d feared the effects were localized. If you do start feeling ill, come to my home. I’ll help you with whatever you need.”

In normal circumstances, she would’ve been ecstatic, but something about the entire encounter with the osun left a hole in her chest. Everything felt too overwhelming. She wanted to lie down and sleep. That was it. But she managed to muster a small smile.

“Thank you.”

“Also… I need you to keep a promise.”

She gulped, eyeing the gun. “Sure.” After seeing how casually Rhodes dealt with the osun, she had no doubt he could turn that cold focus on people that crossed him.

“Osuns aren’t supposed to be here. Their native habitats lie in the mountain ranges, and I’ve taken enough trips to discover new species similar to the osuns, creatures of habit that dwell in caves and mountaintops. If the osuns were driven here, then I have reasons to suspect other species will follow. Whatever the cause is, I’ll have to go there myself and determine it, but for now, keep this in mind: if you see any creature that is not listed in the almanac, run straight to my home. Do not try asking for help from other farmers. Some of those creatures are far worse than an osun. Can you do that for me?”

“Sure, but I have only one condition.”

“Name it.” He retracted the prongs of the gun and slung it across his back, the same way Mira slung her bow.

“Put all the creatures you’ve seen on your travels in the almanac.”

He nodded. “I was going to, anyway, but I appreciate you telling me. It’ll take a couple of weeks to amend the current version, produce new almanacs, and distribute them to every farmer in town. Does that satisfy you?”

“Yes. I’ll do it, then. I’ll report any of those types of creatures to you. Shouldn’t you also tell the other farmers?”

“Yes, when the time comes. For now, I want to keep this under wraps. It could be an anomaly. It could be part of a bigger trend. I won’t be able to figure it out until I go on an expedition to the mountains in a week at least. They’re a very dangerous place. Without a radiation suit, it wouldn’t take long to die from exposure.”

Cora gnawed the inside of her cheek. The whole experience felt so surreal. She touched her neck where the osun had gripped her. It ached, and she guessed there was a spectacular bruise to show for it. Her shoulder felt the same, but she didn’t want to look.

The rain had stopped a short while ago, although the clouds loomed overhead, threatening to rain at the whim of nature. As the gloom lifted, she spotted more farmhouses standing against the stormy backdrop. The first residential buildings were barely a smudge on the horizon, the beginnings of the actual town proper.

The town that she would serve and protect once she became a farmer. If there were more mutations that had never been seen before save for Rhodes, she’d go straight to him. No problem. She inhaled, held her breath for a couple of seconds, then exhaled.

That was all she had to do. She wouldn’t have to fight them again. Rhodes would take care of that. Like he took care of the second mutation.

“I forgot to report this to Owens, my mentor.” She pulled out the tattered, wet journal, the sketches of the salamanders blurred. “There’s a whole herd of salamanders out near the late farmer Red’s property. I counted ten at least, but more could’ve been hiding underneath the ground.”

His eyebrows raised. “Thank you for telling me this. We’ll dispatch a group of farmers to take care of this. Do you need me to escort you home? There may still be more of the osuns lurking around.”

What kind of a question was that? "Yes.” She waved a mental goodbye to Orwen’s barn, pocketed her journal, and returned home.