Mutant Legacy Read Free Page B

around New Mexico.”
    “That’s all?” I almost laughed. “There have always been crazy stories about holy men wandering around in the desert. It’s a favorite archetype.”
    “That may be, but this archetype is doing things that only Rick Akimura could do. And people are flocking to him.”
    “Are you sure?”
    Metzger nodded without losing a beat. “The first we heard of him was over a year ago—something about a hermit who was working miracles among the ranchers. Somewhere near White Sands. Next we began to hear about a poltergeist. A kindly one.”
    Now I did laugh. “A friendly poltergeist? And what did this nice ghost do?”
    “Started stalled skimmer engines. Broke ice in the wells. Redirected dust storms. One man was saved from an angry bull that had him cornered in a pasture: he was lifted right up and over the animal as it charged.”
    “So,” I said. “One old man on an isolated ranch was saved by a miracle. At least, that’s what he says. More likely he had a touch of home brew before he went for a walk in the meadow. And because of that tipsy old man I asked for leave and came rushing out here?”
    “There’s more—that was just the beginning,” said Metzger. “The stories have been pouring in of missing horses and sheep miraculously returned, of lost hikers who felt their feet being guided to safety, and even of a diverted landslide in the Sangre de Cristo mountains.”
    I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. That sounded like Rick all right, but I wasn’t eager to publicly confirm Metzger’s theory without more evidence. “Any passing telekinete who cared to could have pulled most of these stunts,” I said.
    “And would any passing telekinete have been able to teleport a nonmutant little girl to a hospital after an accident? Or stop a freak flood? Smother a lightning fire in the woods?”
    “What’s your source for this?”
    “A friendly reporter. Watch this.”
    The lights dimmed and a wallscreen came to life as a tape of vidnews began flashing headlines: “Lost Child Found Alive in Desert by Charity Group,” “Good Samaritans Save Starving Family,” “Do-Goo he “Dders Build Desert Cult,” “Wilderness Guru Holds Transcendental Meetings,” and “Thousands Join New Mexican Cult.”
    Next, we saw a group of people wearing blue and green jumpsuits wading into an angry mob of field workers who were threatening to torch a farm collective. The scene shifted and the same group was there when a megatanker turned over in the Gulf of Mexico.
    Among them there was a trim, muscular figure who wore jeans and a work shirt. He had a brown beard and wore a black, western-style hat. He was obviously a telekinete, for he held out his arms and seemed to right the ship, forcing the oil back into the tanker’s hold. But his features were unclear—he could have been anyone, anyone at all.
    The next image was more startling: the same bearded man stood in the center of a huge auditorium. A spotlight picked him out of the darkness and made him seem to glow with his own vibrant power. All around him people had joined hands, closed their eyes, and bowed their heads. They were smiling, all of them, with a quiet ecstasy that unnerved me.
    Within the Mutant Council chamber the reaction to this scene was explosive.
    “He can’t do that!”
    “It’s against everything we believe. Only Book Keepers may hold a sharing.”
    What’s he up to? Why doesn’t he come to us if he wants to conduct a sharing?
    Hush, Joachim Metzger told the assemblage. Be silent and watch .
    A plump, red-haired woman two seats away from me broke i n. “Book Keeper, he seems kind of harmless. I mean, all I’m hearing about this group is that they do good deeds. What’s so terrible about that?”
    “Nothing terrible at all,” Metzger said smoothly. “In fact, his intent is admirable. But his group shows signs of growing beyond a personality cult. He already frightens people with his powers. If his organization gets too