Free Judgment by Sean Platt and Johnny B. Truant

to his son in spite, during a moment of anger. The coin was meant as a token for his boy. A souvenir of the fact that the son was bullheaded and could never admit when he didn’t know which path to follow or which choice to make. But after the boy left, Benjamin said he found it on his dresser. And he took it for himself and had carried it every day since.”
    Cameron had never heard this part of the story. “Why?” he said, before managing to stop himself.  
    “He said, ‘It wasn’t my son who needed the reminder to be humble — to admit when he was over his head and had no idea what to do next. It’s me who needs it, and that means it’s my burden to carry.’”  
    Cameron swallowed.  
    “It’s your choice whether or not to trust me. And if you are not sure which path to take … ” Peers let go of the coin, and it fell against Cameron’s shirt like a nudge. “Then believe me, Cameron Bannister: of all people, having met your father and hearing his story, I will understand.”

CHAPTER 10

    Charlie found Cameron alone, outside the Den in the desiccated land, around the corner from the doors, as night approached with the unblemished and cloudless sky stretching overhead. It was cold. A few in the party had seen Cameron leave, but none had asked why or where he was going. Peers had made it obvious that the doors were closed, not locked. An unspoken agreement shivered through the group: some unknown ball had rolled into Cameron’s court, and all anyone could do was to wait for him to decide whether to hit it back.
    “It’s in Ember Flats,” Charlie said.  
    Cameron looked up. He was sitting in a plastic chair, wrapped in a blanket. It was a pouting, petulant little nest he’d made himself. He couldn’t stay out here and knew it. Maybe they were free to go, not pinned in the cave. But what option, other than staying and joining this new cause, was there? To sleep in the sands and freezing? To keep on wandering — with no direction in mind beyond away ?
    Cameron didn’t bother to ask what Charlie was referring to. This was far from the first time he’d brought it up.  
    “I know it’s in Ember Flats.”  
    “Peers knows we have the key.”  
    “Good for Peers.”  
    “It’s why he’s been watching and following us.”  
    “I thought it was because he was my father’s best friend?”
    Charlie took a long look at Cameron. Then, seeming to reach an incredibly difficult decision, he pulled over another plastic chair from near the rock and sat beside him. His posture didn’t look remotely comfortable. He sat ramrod straight, head high, knees together, hands on thighs. Whatever Charlie was affecting, it was an attempt at something unnatural. A parody of companionship, trying to be friendly in a way he’d seen in a video, or read in an instruction manual.  
    “Nobody knew Benjamin better than me.”
    “Charlie, I’m—”  
    “Nobody,” Charlie interrupted. “You spent the first part of your life tolerating him and trying to get away. Once I caught wind of his reputation, I spent most of my time trying to work with him then hooked my wagon to his. I’m a good partner to the right person. I’m not as good on my own.”  
    Cameron looked over at Charlie in the dim, seeing his neutral, forward-facing stare. There was a single exterior light on the Den, and Cameron had the distinct impression Peers was only allowing it to pacify Cameron. It wasn’t wise to draw attention, even out in the middle of nowhere.  
    “I keep telling you,” Charlie continued, “that Benjamin wanted us to find the archive.”
    “We found the archive.”  
    “Find it and unlock it,” Charlie corrected. “The Templars separated the key and the Ark for a reason, but it was to keep them both away from Astrals, not human hands.”  
    “You can’t know that. You saw what happened at Sinai.” He looked at Charlie, trying to imagine emotion in the stoic man. “You even felt it, same as the rest of us.”