Sons of the Earth

San Francisco, July 10th, 1968, 1130

     Story sat at a hard, rough wooden picnic table, the remains of an ice cream treat slowly melting in front of him. Merlin was getting to the last spoonfuls of his own, letting Story have time to think. He'd been thrilled when Story had called, asking to meet. For the past couple of years, Merlin had seen Story withdraw more and more. This spring, Story had barely left the rooms of whatever cheap hotel he'd been holed up in. Merlin had started to worry after a week and a half when the Son of the Wind hadn't left his room at all, apparently subsisting on delivery. He hadn't even opened his door to let the delivery people in, waiting until they'd left before cracking his door just wide enough to drag the food inside. If he hadn't been sure it would only drive Story farther away, Merlin would have kicked his door in long ago.

     A vehicle drove past, loud music blaring. A young, intoxicated woman climbed partway out the window, hollered at the two of them, and then lifted her shirt, exposing her breasts. Merlin chuckled and rolled his eyes but frowned when he saw Story shudder. "Nothing wrong with a nice set of tits," Merlin offered.

     Story angrily swiped the container of sodden ice cream off of the table. "Everything is wrong with it! This world is godless and immoral, and it's only getting worse. I moved here from the east coast, thinking it would be better, but it's not. Do you know what they called last summer? The Summer of Love. Love? What does love have to do with anything that is happening at this time?" Distressed blue eyes pleaded with Merlin. "I have no place in this time. I don't belong. But I can't escape it."

     Merlin nodded slowly. "You're feeling set apart from humanity because you are. You always have been, but now? Now, for the first time, you're feeling the weight of what we are."

     Story hung his head, miserable. "Before, I always found a way to blend in, act like I was one of them. I lived with them, laughed, and, yes, I loved them. I had two women who meant more to me than life itself. One of them gave me a son. She stayed with me because she didn't believe what I really was. She couldn't, not even when she grew old and I didn't. She died for that, and the other...?"

     "The other hurt you so badly when she didn't warn you about what her father would do that you didn't even fight back when he and his idiot friends came after you," Merlin finished. "You could have gone into the wind and avoided being shot easily. Instead, you set out on foot. They rode out after you and shot you in the back, gunned you down like a rabid dog. And what they did to you afterward...?"

     Now Story looked up, eyes hard. "How about what you did to them? I know you went back for her and her family."

     "Her family, yes," Merlin admitted calmly. "Her? She was an innocent victim in this. Her only crime was her fear and ignorance. I helped her start a new life. I set her up with enough money to buy a cattle ranch, around this area, in fact. She stayed here, prospered, married, and had five children. That girl we just saw way too much of? She could very well have been one of her descendants."

     Story was silent for a moment. He folded his hands on the table, staring at them as though he could somehow find the truth in them. "I don't understand the people of this time. They are always flaunting their bodies, completely immoral. Their minds are filled with sex and drugs and an utter disregard for anything good or pure. How can they act like this, Merlin? How can they be so... So..."

     "Sinful?" Merlin supplied quietly.

     Story pointed at Merlin, eyes wild, and nodded frantically. "Yes! Yes, that's it exactly!" Story suddenly slumped. "You're making fun of me."

     "I'm not." Merlin gave him a soft smile. "You lived among the Separatists and believed in the teachings of their church. You let them take you to America, where you lived most of your life among the Puritans of New England. It's little wonder that you would take on their beliefs. But there's more to it," he added, seeing he had Story's full attention. "When we first met, you were convinced I was the Devil, or at least some sort of demon. You felt terrified I was there to drag you to Hell. That fear persisted. While you did eventually come to accept the truth about me? I wonder if you ever fully believed that you don't deserve to be dragged to Hell?"