It had been one hell of a week. A cock had got in with the hens and had wasted no time in screwing half of them. I'd spotted that pack of coyotes circling around at nightfall again, just looking to get at my animals. And I'd gotten a piece of mail that said that old man Lancaster down the way had died and his land was being sold off for development.

Pissed me right off. Didn't know why, but it did, like everything did nowadays. Every goddamn thing just set me ablaze in a way I'd wonder about later. Thinking of neighbors dying, wild animals, that damn cock--

Well I'd killed the cock. Was a stupid thing to do, didn't make any difference after he'd had his fun, just a waste of a rooster at that point to do it. But he'd pissed me off, and I broke his neck and ate him. Made me think, I was glad to hear about Lancaster in a letter, because if his boy came over to tell me he was selling out and closing up the farm in person, I might have broken his neck too.

Didn't even know why. Pissed me right off.

It was still early spring and I had a lot of work to do sowing. Another dozen tomato plants to transplant, and I was only half done on the potatoes. I was looking at another long day of work.

And even that pissed me right off more than usual. I knew why I was mad at the Lancaster kid, and it wasn't because he was killing off his pap's antiquated way of life or anything haughty like that. It was because I was jealous, wanted to join him, move into the city where I could plunk down five credits and buy a beer, anytime I wanted. Instead of being out here in bum-fuck nowhere, planting my damn tomatoes and potatoes so I wouldn't starve to death this year.

I wasn't exactly in solitude by choice, just a crap hand dealt to me and playing it 'best I could. Didn't usually bother me as much as it did right now, though. It'd just been a long week. Like an irritating rash, and those things had just been the nettle on it.

So I stood there, glaring at those tomatoes like they'd done me wrong. Resisting the crazy temptation to rip their tender roots out of the dirt and grind them under my heel. To throw open the coop and let all my goddamned fertilized chickens go play nice with the coyotes and laugh as the little beasties lapped their blood.

I was sick. I needed help, and there wasn't a soul alive who could offer it to me. Me and these damn tomatoes. God damn us all.

It wasn't an exaggeration to say I spent an hour seething at those plants. Waste of an hour, but it felt like time was the only thing I had out here. Even if I was already late in replanting them.

And yet there I was. Standing. Knowing that I should be working, that every second I wasted was another pang of hunger in the winter. I just could not be arsed, could not, after the week I'd already had, summon the mental fortitude of dealing with another dozen tomatoes that'd probably get picked at by worms and pissed on by those coyotes, right after they--

And I was doing it again. Working myself into a lather over nothing. What was wrong with me?

I'd wasted half a day on these tomatoes, or more accurately, on nothing, and I wasn't ready to waste any more. If I wrapped it up quick, maybe I could sneak into town for an evening, have a drink, meet some people and, hell, fight with 'em, if that's what came. I had to think the isolation was getting to me. Maybe one just couldn't exist in the middle of goddamn Texas for four years with nothing but the land and the sky without something breaking in 'em.

That's what I told myself anyway. A night in the town sounded like just what I needed. It was a stupid waste of money, but that's what I needed.

Just as soon as I was done with these tomatoes.

Over the next couple hours, I distractedly dug holes and rearranged the most unforgiving rock that the ass-end of Texas had to offer. It was already afternoon, and it was looking like my plans to go into town were soon to be just the latest reason for me to get angry. Even if it were a fool's plan to begin with. The shovel was turning my calluses into blisters, and the sun showed no mercy to my back.

And only halfway done. And not terribly well done at that. I'd skipped on digging out many of the rocks I knew were hiding just under the surface, planted the tomatoes higher up, leaving it up to myself to put down more topsoil on top of them. Waste of good soil and a waste of money I couldn't afford when I had all the time in the world and not a credit of reliable income.

Especially with half the hens fertile. Those were eggs most wouldn't want now. It just felt unfair.

Angry as I was, I still gave it a lot of thought before I decided to cheat. I'd promised myself I never would, that it'd been exactly that which had sentenced me to this dung heap. It wasn't a thing to do lightly, no matter how lonely I got, or how crazy I was, or how angry I became.

But after a long minute's deliberation, and longer still in peering around, staring over the long grasses into the distant trees spotting the endless plains around my house, making sure that there wasn't a soul watching, I decided, I needed this. I could cheat, just this once.

And with hardly a thought, invalidating the hours of back-straining work, the dirt lifted itself out of the ground, twisting neatly in the air like vipers, the rocks separating into a pile and the usable dirt hovering nearby. The tomato plants drifted from their pots, floated into the newly-vacant holes, and patted themselves in, the rest of the dirt in the air snaking around each stem, building a nest and a trough in a moment.

It hadn't taken fifteen seconds to do the second half of the work. While I was at it, I spent another minute on the potatoes, sowing them in even lines, mounding the dirt above them perfect as I could envision in my mind, the dirt and rock and plants weightless to my powers.

I let go, and the dirt and plants settled, my hands splayed as though balancing myself after an earthquake. Everything was alright? I glanced around. No witnesses, no traces that anything supernatural had occurred. I blinked and frowned and looked into the sky. Were there XPCA satellites above me? Were they watching me even now?

No, I told myself. That was impossible. The XPCA did not watch every person at every moment, even if they had the eyes to do so. I was fine, I was safe. I could go into town just as I'd planned, watch a game, meet a stranger--

Something snapped behind me and I spun on my heel, almost losing my balance. I blinked rapidly, seeing nobody at first. My mouth went dry and my heart pounded painfully in my chest. And then, I saw it.

Just one of the damn coyotes. As startled by the branch underfoot as I was. I felt like collapsing, my heart was beating so fast, over a damn animal. I clutched my chest and groaned, my hands shaking as the sudden rush had nowhere to go.

I sat down and watched the coyote watching me. It was like a tiny brown wolf, still splotchy from a winter coat. He had a torn ear and stayed still, staring at me, motionless.

This was a bad idea. Using my powers was, of course, but going into town was as well. I didn't need to go anywhere, and I certainly didn't have credits to burn. And there was so much work to do still, so much was required to keep one man alive. The moment of panic had ignited the flame of caution within me, reminded me what fear smelled like, even if it was just a damn animal.

I lowered my head and stood again, taking deep breaths as though I could breathe the anxiety out of me. Anger ebbed at the periphery but I kept it at bay. I should be working, I really should. I'd wasted so much of today already, and while my use of my powers had helped, it had only caught me up. If I worked hard, worked honestly for the day, I'd be on-track. I could keep on living.

In the end it wasn't the best day, either for being happy or productive, but fell somewhere in between. It was a day like many others, and there would be many more like it. It was a day I could tolerate the passing of, I thought, my back stretching with pained satisfaction as I lie in bed for the night, my feet drinking in the cool air, freed from their shoeful prisons.

I fell asleep almost at once, my work earning me that much. But apparently not much more, because before too long I awoke to the sounds of screaming.

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Not human screaming. There weren't any humans in miles of here. The damn chickens, and the damn coyotes. Inhuman noises, like nothing no man should ever hear. Long bleating screeches, like someone tearing a hole in static, and feral growls, so deep they sounded like they were coming from the earth.

I was out of bed and out the door in an instant, turning the lights on as I went. I ran to the coop and found two chickens already dead, and three or four coyotes struggling to get them through the hole under the fence they'd dug. The red blood stained the white feathers, and the teeth of the beasts glinted in the yard lights, blood clinging to their snouts like mud.

One of them, the one doing the killing, the one closest to me, I recognized. His ear was torn, and he looked up at me as I came running with disinterest. The same one I'd seen earlier today. I should have known then, this one had been around humans too long, he'd eaten our food or killed our animals before, and he wasn't afraid of us. He seemed to glance at me only long enough to tell me he didn't care about me at all, before shoving his face back into the coop, where the chickens were screaming.

My blood boiled at the little bastard. After everything else this week, as though losing my cock and fertilizing half my hens wasn't enough, missing my chance to go into town and being forced into using my powers, this little bastard had the gall to ignore me and go right back to killing my hens.

I screamed at him and stooped for a rock, throwing it clattering off the siding of the coop. Again, he only glanced at me, even if the others were sent running a few paces. I set on him, advancing to within a few feet.

And that finally got him to looking at me. He pulled his head out of the coop and growled, his head low and bloody teeth bared. He was matted with blood and feathers from the hens he'd already killed, and he took a step towards me.

My guts did a somersault as primal fear of a wild animal rose up in me, and the fear battled with the anger boiling in me already. This bastard weren't scared of me at all, he'd jump me any moment, and maybe I could take him or maybe not. Maybe he was rabid, and if he got his teeth into me, I'd be too, until I died, barking mad out here, tearing apart the rest of my hens with my own teeth.

I didn't know what that particular image came to mind, but it sickened me, made me want to vomit, when all these sudden starts tearing me out of sleep were already making my stomach churn and my throat dry. I felt myself retch, and saw the beast draw another step closer.

And then, barking, it charged. I got my hands in front of me and screamed back at it, aiming my fist for its underbelly, and too blind to see the teeth coming.

But of course, in my state, my stupid, blind, unawake stupor, I'd forgotten about my powers. I'd spent all day everyday ignoring them, and so they weren't the first thing to come to mind in a fight. Even if that's when I might've needed them most. But I shouldn't have been surprised when they came out anyway. Should've been happy really -- here, in the cover of darkness, protecting myself and my brood, there was no better time for them to be called for.

But I was surprised. For what it was worth, so was the coyote, right before he died. Smoke belched from his mouth. The pain and wonder caught him mid-jump and he just fell like a clod of dirt, scampering away from me, yelping as fire caught him from within.

I turned on the other coyotes, not quite understanding, and where my gaze caught them, they, too, erupted into death. But not lifted by my powers, nor bursting into flame. All kinds of grizzly death.

One folded on itself like a puzzle cube, shearing lines of raw meat as it tried to yelp with severed lungs and run on broken legs. It twitched and trembled horribly, making ungodly sounds from deep within itself as it gushed blood from every surface.

Another seemed to freeze completely, motionless on one paw where it had been fleeing. I watched in fascinated horror as it slowly tipped over, and when it hit the ground, shattered into dust.

The last one was still trying to run, but seemingly couldn't, whimpering as though in pain as it struggled where it stood. It thrashed in the air, feet scraping the ground.

The first collapsed and erupted as the fire within it burst through to the outside in a fireball, and then it went silent, the fire beginning to spread to the scattered hay and the coop. The second stopped moving as well, and the third...well it was dust. I didn't know where it went or what happened to it.

The fourth was the only one left alive. And while I needed to tend that fire and see to my hens, I couldn't do anything of the sort. Morbid curiosity gripped me, and I felt like I was trapped in a play, waiting to see the final act fall, no matter what else I wanted to do.

This critter was properly afraid of me, as you only ever saw in prey animals. Its eyes were wide and its ears flattened in terrror as it thrashed against nothing, whining and twitching. In its animal intelligence, I could see it recognizing the other coyotes, how suddenly and supernaturally they'd died, and somehow, it knew that what happened to them, what was happening to it, that was all me. It was terrified of my every movement.

I reached out and felt what seemed taut spiderwebs connected to nothing. All around the animal, invisible wires, too strong for me to break, stretching into emptiness, and too small to be seen. They were wrapped around the coyote in a hundred places, tight enough to make it bleed through its fur.

I didn't think I could cut it down, not without risking the freaked-out thing turning and biting me in its panic. I took a deep breath, and reaching out with my powers on purpose for the first time that night, broke its neck.

The coop was going up in flames, full of straw and molting, but with a thought, I put all the fires out. With the crackling roar gone, I could hear the chickens inside still screaming their panic. Running around, hurting each other, ripping out their feathers mindlessly.

I broke all their necks too, just for the quiet.

And then it was quiet. Perfectly quiet. The wind didn't stir and the bugs didn't chirp. It was nothing but peaceful, perfect silence all around me. Silence and death.

I didn't know what had happened here. I didn't know why I was throwing fire or slicing bodies with my mind or spinning invisible webs. I'd always and only ever been able to move things with my mind, and I'd been doing that a long time now, or trying not to.

But now here I was. Finally content for a moment, and I didn't even know why. I certainly didn't know why I felt the need to kill that last coyote, or the chickens. It just felt good to get my powers out. Felt right. Felt like, I could push out all the goddawful things which'd ever happened to me by taking it out on their lives.

Felt quiet. Felt powerful. Felt, for the first time in a few weeks, not pissed right off.

I took in a deep breath and smelled the smoke and the blood.

Goddamn disaster this week was. I'd have to pluck and gut and smoke these chickens before they went bad, and while I was at it, I might try a taste of coyote meat, I supposed. They cost me enough food, they may was well start paying me back.

I reached for my shovel but my hand froze halfway there. My dirty, calloused hand.

Forget the shovel. I reached out with my mind and pulled the chickens from the coop as one. In one moment, every single feather on 'em plucked themselves, falling down into a shower of white and brown.

I used one of my new powers, rotating the chickens down the middle in opposite directions, splitting them perfectly in half. After they were cracked open, their entrails floated from their bodies and joined the refuse.

The was easy, I realized. These powers I'd hidden from for so long, I could pluck, gut, and roast a thousand hens a minute, without so much as dirtying my hands. It was incredible, as I began to think of everything else my powers might let me do, all the unimaginable opportunities seemingly opening up to me at once.

Of course, revenge was at the top of the list, but I told myself no. Even with all this power, there was nothing to be gained by picking a fight with another person. As much as I hated being forced into this lifestyle, killing those who'd sent me here wouldn't change anything, It'd just open the doors to trouble. It'd get people asking questions, looking for me, investigating. And that was the last thing I wanted.

Although, the more I dwelled on it, the more the thought of their terrified faces and the flashes of blue and red lights and the wailing of sirens blazed in my mind. My heart seethed with pain and anger. They did deserve to die, those bastards.

But I wouldn't be the one to kill them. As much as I wanted to. I hated them, and with my new powers, I could imagine their deaths again and again in all new ways. Gutless, hateful bastards, ruining my whole world for...what? For no goddamn reason at all. Because I existed and they were scared. Like that was any reason to ruin a man's life.

I waited for the anger to go away but it didn't. My skin just burned hotter and hotter on my body until it felt like the night air was blazing, and I pulled off my shirt and dragged it inside with me, washing my face in cold water.

I'd deal with the chickens and coyotes tomorrow. Right now, I clearly couldn't even think straight. I splashed water on my face again and again, and when that wasn't enough to clear my mind, I jumped into the shower and blasted myself with ice.

Maybe I should kill them, I thought. Maybe I could find that moment of peace and silence again if they were dead. My thoughts were louder than ever now, buzzing in my brain almost painfully. The night made me feel stupid and slow, and feral, and I knew in the morning my concern should be looking after the tomatoes and potatoes which would keep me alive, now that my chickens were all dead.

But it was hard. It felt like I was battling an addiction, though I didn't know what I'd even tried that I was addicted to. All I knew is I didn't want my stupid, crappy, goddamned hillbilly life anymore.

But I had to stick with it. It'd kept me alive for four years, when Exhumans were being nabbed left and right. As much as I wanted to cheat, I knew that was just my stupid brain wanting to be lazy, and laziness would get me killed at these stakes. Hide and live, go and die. It was that simple. I'd seen too many Exhuman events with too many self-righteous Exhumans getting themselves killed, because they had power and they were going to use it.

It was a mistake. It was always a mistake. That was why I would stay here. That was why I would never use my powers again.

Ever.

I went to pained, broken sleep with that determination and woke up with that determination. It lasted me through a bland breakfast and morning chores, until I found myself staring down four coyote corpses and a goddamn thousand pounds of chicken guts and feathers.

And then, like I did before, I looked around furtively, made absolutely sure nobody was watching, and got to work.