Free The Mutant Prime by Karen Haber

was left was his voice, trailing behind.
    Rebekah leaped to her feet. “Skerry, come back here! How can you run out like this when we need you?”
    The wind whistling in from the open door was the only answer she received.
    “I’ll go catch him,” Michael said. He grabbed his gray jacket and hurried out into the dusk.
    Rebekah called after him. “Be careful out there. It’s easy to get lost.”
    The fog gave a soft, spectral feel to the twilight. In a moment, Michael was far from the meeting hall, on a sloping path leading into wooded canyon.
    “Skerry? Come on, don’t go away,” Michael called. “I haven’t even had a chance to talk to you.”
    No answer.
    Michael levitated over a stand of red-trunked manzanita and landed in a clearing ringed by towering eucalyptus trees. Their clean, balsam scent was powerful in the still air.
    “Skerry! Dammit, I know you can hear me.”
    Michael walked deeper into the woods. It was no use. He’d never locate his elusive cousin. The path divided and he hurried on along the left-hand fork. He passed gooseberry bushes glowing in the dusk. The silence was unnerving. He looked behind him. Which way had he come? He levitated upward, but below him was a canopy of pines and eucalyptus.
    Cursing, he landed and tried to retrace his steps. Surely the path was over here. No. Well, here then. If only he had mindspeech, he could call out to the clan. Or night sight, so that he could see beyond the trees. Just as he was beginning to consider shouting for help, he felt a mental prickle.
    Stop bashing around. These are all protected native plants .
    “Skerry?”
    No. If you’re looking for that other esper, he’s about two miles away, heading south fast. Hold on, I’ll call him for you. There. He’s coming back.
    “Who are you?”
    The linkage faded. In its place, a buzzing came, almost electronic, like a swarm of angry metal bees.
    All right, I’m back.
    “Jesus, you are a pain in the ass,” Michael said. He sank down on a rock. “First I get lost in the woods looking for you, then the old man of the forest tells me to keep off the grass.”
    Jason? He’s all right .
    Michael looked over his right shoulder. His left. All he saw was darkness. “Dammit, Skerry, materialize. I’m tired of talking to phantoms.”
    Don’t be so touchy .
    The buzzing took on a rhythmic quality, almost musical, and then it was musical: the “Flight of the Bumblebee.” Suddenly, a thousand golden insects beat their wings against the night sky, flying in formation, coalescing, until in place of the bees was a bearded, grinning mutant. Skerry.
    “Could you turn off the soundtrack, please?”
    The woods were silent.
    “Thanks.”
    Skerry sat down next to him. “Well, did you have Jason call me back just so you could criticize my musical taste?”
    “Get serious. You know why I came after you. I think you should go check out that guy Ashman. He’s strange. Scary. Don’t you care?”
    “Of course I do.” Skerry’s tone was sharp. “But I don’t like being ordered around. Skerry do this. Skerry do that. Quick, Skerry, save the supposedly free world from itself.” He made a sour face. “I’m getting kind of old for this stuff. Isn’t there any other member of this clan who can go check out this so-called supermutant?” He paused and gave his cousin the once-over. “You look like you’re in pretty good shape for a desk jockey. Why don’t you go?”
    Michael grinned, “Don’t be ridiculous. Besides, I’ve got enough problems already.”
    “Such as?”
    “The Moonstation disaster.”
    “What have you got to do with that?” Skerry’s tone was incredulous.
    “My old man helped build parts for the dome that blew.”
    “So?”
    “So I’ve been invited by the government to discuss this at Armstrong Airbase on Monday.” Michael forced himself to sound genial, unconcerned.
    “Jesus, a congressional investigation?” Even Skerry was impressed. “Think they’ll nail you?”
    “If they