Cain

by E S Richards

  E S Richards

  Cain

  A Novella in The Generation Series

  Copyright © E S Richards, 2018

  All rights reserved

  1st edition

  Ebook design by Papeair

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission from the copyright owner.

  Chapter 1

  Cain pushed aside the final branches of the forest and stepped out into a clearing, breathing heavily. Leaning back against a tree he closed his eyes and let his breathing return to normal, the sweat on his brow drying out in the hot sun. The wind still whistled around him, but the cold was much less severe outside of the forest. Spotting a pool of water off to the right he pushed himself off the tree and made his way towards it, his lips sticking together with thirst.

  As Cain knelt down beside the murky water, he caught a half-reflection of himself rippling on the surface. In the months he had been wandering around alone his appearance had changed so much. He was still only thirteen years old but his face belonged to a mutant much older than he was. Thrusting his hands into the water Cain destroyed his reflection, knowing full well it was his own fault he had ended up that way.

  Scrubbing at his hands he removed some of the layers of dirt and dried blood that had accumulated there. He then washed his face and pulled his empty water bottles from his bag, refilling them both. The water was by no means clear as he inspected it, but he knew it wouldn’t do his body any damage. His insides mutated to help him survive in the ruined world he now inhabited.

  Cain himself knew very little about what the world had been like in The Before Time. Unlike his younger brothers, he had never cared much for the stories their parents told them. He had always been outside causing trouble when they had preferred to stay inside and listen to tales about the past. Cain wondered now whether that had been a side effect of his mutation, his high levels of energy as a child slowly making sense to him as he grew to understand more about himself.

  He of course knew the basics however. Many generations ago something terrible had happened to their world, something that was too complicated for Cain to imagine as it had resulted in pushing mankind back to their basic survival instincts. Reducing them to a simple species from what had apparently once been such an experienced and intelligent race.

  Following it people began being born with mutations and slowly the term person was replaced with mutant, the vast majority of the remaining population becoming mutated. He knew that some Zero’s still remained – those born without any mutation – but from his short history Cain already knew that they were hunted and were quickly dying out in the new world.

  Cain himself was a generation four mutant. His Turning Age Ceremony at the age of 10 had revealed that to him, his parents being so proud to acknowledge him as the second highest rank of mutant. Only Gen 5’s were deemed more powerful than him, but Cain sadly didn’t see it that way.

  Whenever he was forced to think seriously about his mutation anger began bubbling up inside of him. He was reminded of his parents and younger brothers, and everything his mutation had caused him to lose. In his first few weeks of being alone Cain quickly realised that thinking about his past was foolish, it was only a guaranteed way to make him lose control of himself again.

  Shaking his head out and refusing to think about his past again Cain pushed his water bottles back into his bag and climbed to his feet. Even after months of walking he still wasn’t sure where he was going, but he had learned to keep moving, keep his mind occupied and keep putting one foot in front of the other. Tying his jacket around his waist in the hot sun Cain revealed the number four that had been burnt into his upper right arm. That number marked him permanently as a Gen 4, but it was also another stark reminder of his past. Grimacing Cain turned his gaze to the vast desert in front of him and started to walk.

  As he always did Cain tried to imagine what his future would be like. What he would find around the next corner and what his life would become. One thing his Gen 4 ranking did allow him was a certain status. It meant other mutants respected him, even feared him in some cases. He had learned growing up that mutant’s also tended to group together in packs of similar generation numbers. The camp where he had grown up had been primarily Gen 3 and Gen 4, just like his mother and father. It had naturally been a rearing camp though, designed for families to live in while they had young children under the age of 10. At ten years old the Turning Age Ceremonies were held, where young mutants would be marked with the generation number they were revealed to be.

  Although Cain and his brother’s had left their parents when Cain was only eleven, and his brother’s just nine he knew he would not have remained with them for much longer. Mutants like him – the more powerfully ranked – often formed camps of their own.

  Cain knew that was where he should go. He knew that was likely the only place where he would be accepted now, amongst highly developed mutants like himself. His only issue was that he didn’t know where to find them, or what exactly to do when he did. Despite having his Gen 4 mutation for three years, he could already tell he was different to others like him. His past had certainly shown him that.

  Kicking at the sand beneath his feet as Cain continued to walk he tried to focus on what he knew about himself, without allowing his mind to lose control. That was, in essence, what made him so different.

  It had been about six or seven months since he first lost control of his mutation – a day he regularly thought about and even more regularly stopped himself from thinking about. Since then he had lost control countless times, the smallest things setting him off on a violent rampage. Without knowing exactly what his mutation was Cain just saw it as a combination of extreme strength, violence and anger. It confused him greatly and these were all things he knew he should feel proud of as a Gen 4 mutant, but they were also characteristics he didn’t feel were truly his own. It was only in the moments Cain lost control of himself through stress, tension, fear or rage that he fully embraced his mutation and there was no way of predicting when those moments would come.

  Through trying to learn more about his own mutation Cain often thought about other mutants he had known and how they had dealt with their mutations. His father had been a Gen 4 like himself, although his mutation – much like his Gen 3 mother’s – had been much more obvious. His father could move at incredible speed, so quick he was often impossible to see when moving as fast as he could. He had been a warrior: his supersonic speed meaning he was deadly in battle. His mother had been a healer, carrying the ability to cure any injury with either the wave of her hand, or through some powers Cain didn’t truly understand.

  Some of the lessons his mother had taught him though had stuck with Cain and proved incredibly useful during his time alone. She had shown him how to harness the power of certain plants, roots and flowers that grew in abundance where they had grown up. Cain remembered his mother’s instructions clearly as he walked, the knowledge of which plants to use for which injuries and whether to boil them, eat them or rub them on the affected area saving him a great deal of pain on more than one occasion.

  Thinking of his parents Cain hunched his shoulders as he walked. Although mutants of his ranking were supposed to be strong and powerful, he still missed them dearly. He had thought often of returning to where he had last seen them, when he had left their home two years ago. The nightmares of his past forbade him though, knowing he would not trust himself to see them again nor to tell them to the truth of what had happened to his younger brothers. His path in life had cruelly been decided for him and sadly it did not include a family.

  It was ultima
tely because of his mutation that Cain was alone. Unlike both of his parents’ mutations, his was much more unpredictable. Both of theirs had been clear-cut – obvious to anyone who saw them in action. His own mutation reminded him more of the lone mutants he had encountered after first leaving his parents. Those mutants had been aggressive like him and carried volatile mutations like poisonous skin, flaming hands and other deadly powers Cain didn’t fully understand.

  When he had first entered the camp populated with more volatile mutants, Cain had been happy. Being a young boy with a powerful mutation they respected him and helped to train him to build up muscle mass and fighting skills. They were both things his father had tried to teach him, but to be respected by a group of unknown advanced mutants had made Cain feel special. It had made him want to impress them, want to show himself off.

  For just under a year Cain had lived there happily. Although his Turning Age Ceremony had revealed him to be a Gen 4, his mutation still hadn’t become apparent. Thinking back to that time Cain remembered how frustrated that had made him feel and how it encouraged him to put more and more time and effort into his strength training, building himself up to be a powerful warrior like his father and each day hoping his mutation would suddenly appear. Now he wished it had never arrived. Carrying the burden of his mutation made Cain constantly feel unsure about who he was and what he should be doing with his life.

  Reaching a small and rare patch of trees in the middle of the desert he was now trudging through Cain sat in the patch of shade beneath them, stopping his mind from going over the events of his final day in that mutant camp. He could already feel the stress building up inside of him as he thought about what he had done and refused to let himself lose control again.

  Instead he pulled his bag off his shoulders and reached inside for some water and food. Since leaving the camp he had lost so much weight, no longer receiving full meals every day and having to live off the scraps he could find and the small animals he was able to hunt. It was the scraps of cooked rabbit meat that Cain devoured from the bottom of his bag, cursing himself for not hunting again before he left the forest. Food and water were both much more scarce in the desert and as he finished his small meal Cain knew it could be some time before he ate again. Where his body had once been rippled with muscles his shape was slowly diminishing, returning to the smaller body of a thirteen-year-old boy.

  With a fuller stomach and the shade providing him more comfort Cain struggled to stop his eyes from closing. Sleep was another thing that often evaded him, the lack of safe places to get a good night’s rest limited for a boy of his age. He knew however that he had to make the most of the energy he had just consumed and pushed himself back to his feet. His journey was far from over and if Cain was to cross the desert before nightfall he couldn’t afford to waste anymore time. Being alone in the desert at night was something he had suffered through once before and didn’t wish to ever do again.

  With his bag on his shoulders Cain gritted his teeth and placed one foot in front of the other. In the distance he could see another patch of greenery and knew that would be his destination. It looked less dense than the forest he had just travelled through but Cain knew not to make any assumptions before he reached it. The camps where advanced mutants like himself lived were placed so precariously across the lands he had travelled and he had quickly learnt that there were few regarded as safe to approach.

  It had probably been no more than a month into his time alone that Cain had dared to enter one of them. It was only the second he had seen, the first being too close to the camp he was fleeing. Foolishly Cain had walked straight into the middle of it, his hunger and thirst too overwhelming for his rational brain to anticipate the danger. Although he was marked as a Gen 4, Cain quickly learnt that wasn’t a guaranteed pass into an advanced mutant camp.

  Thankfully he escaped the camp just in time and made it back into the wilderness, his heart racing from the threats he had encountered. Since then Cain had not dared to enter another advanced camp, too scared of what would happen to him. He had however been forced to go into settlements were less developed mutants lived. He had often entered with his jacket wrapped tightly around himself, keeping his Gen 4 mutation hidden. Then he would take what he could in terms of food, water and other supplies and steal away into the night. Even though he was just a boy he still knew how the lesser developed mutants would see him and he didn’t trust staying amongst their kind either.

  Now though Cain was realising he couldn’t survive for much longer on his own. The months by himself had made him stronger in many ways, but weaker in more obvious ones. His survival instincts were kicking in and he could tell that if he wanted to regain his strength and carry on he would have to settle somewhere for a while first. He just hoped the next advanced camp he encountered would be more welcoming than the two he had been forced to flee.

  Chapter 2

  As Cain neared the end of the desert and the start of the greenery he braced himself for what he would find. There was no guarantee that he would even encounter a mutant camp, or that it would be a suitable one for him to join. His legs were growing tired beneath him though and he knew he would have to rest soon. Hopefully there would be somewhere safe for him in amongst the clusters of trees ahead.

  As small tufts of grass began getting mixed up with the sand underneath his feet Cain smiled. It cushioned the ground and made it easier to walk on, his feet tired of stumbling over the uneven desert landscape. It had taken him all day to cross it, the sun finally now beginning to set behind him. Both for the inevitable decline in temperature and in anticipation for anyone he may be about to meet, Cain untied his jacket from his waist and pulled it on. With his Gen 4 ranking covered once more he set a path through the thin layer of trees, a few small wooden huts visible on the other side.

  His stomach rumbled as Cain stepped carefully through the trees, a few birds singing in the branches above his head as they returned to their nests for the night. Accompanying their song Cain could hear the faint sound of conversation coming from ahead of him. His hearing had matured during his time alone, aiding him in sensing the dangers that constantly lurked in the depths of the many forests. Thankfully the one he was currently passing through was only small and before long Cain had reached the final few lines of trees.

  The wooden huts he had spotted earlier were clearer now. Cain had been right to assume there would be a camp there – the line of trees presenting the location with some protection from the harsher weather the desert carried. He stayed within the trees as he assessed what lay ahead of him, knowing not to step out into the clearing until he could be sure it was safe.

  The camp he was looking at was small. Much smaller than others he had journeyed past. There were three wooden huts built onto the ground, which Cain assumed were the meagre homes the inhabitants lived in. Moving north through the trees to improve his view Cain caught the vision of a large fire, with a few mutants gathered around it. From his post in the distance he couldn’t make out any faces or generation numbers, just that the three figures sat around the fire were big; probably male and probably advanced mutants like himself.

  Cain swallowed. He didn’t like the idea of having to approach a group of advanced mutants. Especially when darkness was falling and he didn’t know how many more of them were in the camp. Silently he weighed up his options: either spend the night hidden in the trees watching the camp or approach them now before all the mutants retired into their homes. Neither filled Cain with much hope but as he looked back up at the mutants and saw one of them moving towards a wooden hut he knew he didn’t want to wait until morning. Even if the forest he was in was small and there was a camp nearby Cain still understood the dangers of the animals that lurked within.

  Taking a deep breath he forced himself forward, emerging into the clearing just a hundred or so metres away from the small camp. The remaining two mutants were moving towards their huts now as well, their backs towards Cain. He realised they would probably
get inside without noticing him and Cain breathed deeply again as he accepted he was going to have to vocally make them aware of his arrival. Slowing his pace to a steady walk he opened his mouth to speak, the dryness inside reminding Cain how long it had been since he’d spoken to another mutant.

  “Hello!” He called out nervously, the confidence he had as an advanced mutant quickly fading from him as he watched the two larger men turn around and stare at him. “I umm,” Cain was suddenly lost for words. “Can you help me?”

  The two mutants looked at one another and took a step towards Cain, who was now frozen to the spot just outside the perimeter of the three wooden huts. As they turned and their faces became illuminated by the light of the fire Cain breathed out slightly. They were definitely older than him and much bigger too but Cain figured they couldn’t be more than a few years his senior. In fact if his muscles hadn’t diminished so much during his time alone he would probably only be slightly smaller than them. His eyes also automatically flickered to their right arms where their generation rankings lay. While one wore a jacket similar to his own, the second mutant’s ranking was visible, marking him as a Gen 3. Once again Cain let out a bit more of the breath he was holding.

  “What do you want?” The Gen 3 boy called over to him, both having stopped still within the boundaries of their small camp.

  Cain assessed their mannerisms quickly, trying to deduce whether the other boy would carry a similar ranking. He didn’t really have a plan for what he was about to do but instead allowed his baser instincts to take over through his desperate need for survival. Taking another step towards the older boys Cain slowly removed his bag and jacket, revealing his own generation ranking.

  “I want to join you,” Cain replied slowly, pointing to the number 4 burnt into his arm. He hoped he was right in his assumptions about the boys, basing his guess on their large size and isolated yet small camp. Most of the lower ranked mutants wouldn’t live in a place like this Cain thought, although he was entirely working his theory from guesswork.