by J D Morganne
Aria stood on her tiptoes to whisper. “Been there, done that. I wanna look at”— She stepped back, shoulders hunched, realizing she was encroaching on his territory—“your burn.”
“It feels fine.” His veins bulged, making his skin feel suctioned.
“Jax.” Aria took a couple more steps back. Her eyes shrunk and widened in the same second, as if bugs had emerged from his skin. “Your hands.”
Jaxon looked at them. His veins pulsed and illumined in a way that was and wasn’t surprising. He saw it in Farah when she got angry. He’d seen it in some soldiers during training. What did it mean that it was happening to him now? He felt no pain, only a self-consciousness that made him tuck his hands behind him.
“Show me,” Aria said.
“It’s not a… it’s nothing.”
“I said let me see. Now.”
He brought his hands from behind him. The glow extended over half his arms now, rushing to his face.
“I’ll be right back.” She looked both ways before stepping out and closing the door, as if she was locking in a secret. Five minutes later, she was back with a glass of steaming water. Ochre-colored leaves garnished a lemon slice at the top. “Drink this.”
“What is it?” Jaxon said, though he didn’t hesitate.
“Koloberry water.”
He sipped it, winced at the cold iron sensation oozing down his throat. At the touch of his lips, the leaves on top wilted and turned black, secreting juices that blackened the water. His overheated core smoothed like mixing batter. His tension melted into it. “That’s…” Twisting up his mouth, he gave the glass to Aria, “disgusting.” But it had worked. The glow went away. His face went back to normal.
Aria stared at the glass like she was watching a dragon lay an egg. “Uh-huh. Would you”— She looked at him and then back at the glass— “excuse me?” She rushed out and Jaxon shut and locked the door behind her.
Out the window, Beck was screaming at Nano and deliriously waving her hands.
Jaxon couldn’t think of anyone else who could know about his early acceptance into the academy. Unless she had done her research, someone must’ve recently given her that info. If Cayman had, why wouldn’t she tell him? Why was she keeping things from him? What she knew could be the key he needed to get home. If he hadn’t known better, he would say he’d seen fear on her face earlier.
She met his inquisitive stare for a full five seconds.
He closed the curtains.
―
Nano took Jaxon to the restaurant strip. It surprised him Nano could move after packing his stomach with enough junk to hibernate a bear, let alone be hungry again.
“We ate.”
“We ain’t here to eat.” Nano jogged to a keypad, embedded into the railcar at the furthest end of the tracks. He pressed three numbers, licked his lips while deliberating, and pressed three more. “That ain’t it.”
Jaxon tapped his fingers on his legs, itching to find exactly what they were there for. What was behind that door?
Nano tried the numbers again and clapped his hands at the welcoming chime. He pushed open the door. “Beck got’er Den. I got my own spot. Watch ya step.”
Jaxon followed him up four steep steps, straight through the old railcar and into an enclosed stairwell on the other side. He checked over his shoulder, but they had already descended into the darkness. He had a vague sense that walls surrounded them, but he couldn’t see anything ahead or behind him.
“You get ya energy back yet? Can you give us some light?”
Jaxon snapped and lit the stairway in neon green. It lasted long enough for him to see scribbles in old paint on the rigid walls. A child’s work of stick figures and shapes. The light faded, as Jaxon’s flames did. He snapped again. Got nothing. “I’m kinda burned out.”
“Bon mot.” Nano made a snorting sound and said nothing else until they were in front of another door. He put in another code twice before it chimed. He tried to push open the door but something on the other side caught beneath it. He rammed his shoulder against it and burst through. “Go,” he said, with a grunt.
Jaxon hopped through, stumbled on an old desktop computer and landed hands first in a pile of mechanical rubbish. He lifted, his expression rife with intrigue. They were in some kind of underground atrium. Natural light glittered in from an arching glass ceiling and spilled over a floor covered in old-world tech: computers, cellphones, smart watches, tablets, holotablets and enough celrings to open his own jewelry shop. Nano had brought him to a defunct tech graveyard.
He’d snipped his finger on a broken I-Phone and was sticking it in his mouth when it occurred to him what surrounded him. “I thought you said”—
Nano shrugged, already knowing what Jaxon would say. “Can’t say anything when the big sis is still in the house.”
While Jaxon tried to figure out if this was his heaven or hell, he rummaged through the mess. Tempered glass cracked under his boots.
“Ey, don’t get hurt. If Beck knew I brough’chu here...”
Jaxon had already compiled five celrings. He juggled them while digging for more. This was where all Jerus’s tech went to die. Nano was right. If Beck found out, she’d kill them both. He would find what he needed and get out of there if there was anything to find. Jaxon didn’t know what he needed. While, this was more than he could hope for, it was stilted still, by the fact that none of it worked. This stuff was dead, unusable. He didn’t know what he would use half of it for anyway. “This stuff is ancient.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Or…” In Obedience, celrings were still technically new, a few years old. These rings looked new too, with shiny metal trim around wooden shanks. Jaxon picked through the few he’d swept up. Not a scuff on them, shiny enough to see his reflection. “Where’d these come from?”
Nano shrugged. “How would I know? These stuffs been here before me. And don’t think about takinem ‘cause if Beck asked where you got’em from I’ma act like you stole’m.”
Jaxon dropped them, but he had words for Beck. Unpleasant words. “Can I search some more?”
“Tire yourself out.” Nano stacked a few desktop computers and sat down.
Jaxon had questions upon questions, none of which he could ask the ever-incompetent Nano. Before he knew it, Nano was snoring. Jaxon used the distraction to tuck two rings in his pocket. Newer than his, it seemed. If anything, he could replace his own. He kicked through a pool of cellphones, startling Nano awake. None of those phones could reach home.
“Everything here’s garbage,” Jaxon said, starting back.
Nano popped open his eyes. “Ey. You’re talkin’ about my garbage.”
“I need the tech in the tunnels.”
“Can’t help wi’that.”
This stuff had to work once upon a time. Nano knew how. “Thought this place was called Knowledge,” Jaxon muttered.
Nano yawned long and hard. “I come here, look through this trash, find a few good snatches to trade on the Black. You smart enough to know what that is, ain’t you?”
“Totosuum do’e knyit-da ee?” Jaxon said, his countenance insouciant, yet pompous.
“Nah I know you’re smart. You need to work on your accent though. Don’t make me regret bringin’ you here. Or telling you…” He took a moment to check around him, as if someone could’ve snuck in without him seeing, “that there are grids beyond Mt. Garrida.”
Jaxon’s eyebrows shot up, interest spiked. “Grids?”
“That’ll get your tech workin’. Ain’t that what you want?”
“How do I get there?”
“Now, I ain’t gettin’ into all that.”
Then why tell me? Jaxon thought.
“If you want to get there, you gotta go through Beck, plain and simple.” He walked off.
Jaxon looked over his shoulder a final time. He could use nothing there, but all that tech and the rings burning a hole in his pocket made him feel closer to home than he had in months.
And he could get them working if everyone stopped tiptoeing around him. He had to get to these “grids”.
23
Light rain slapped Jaxon’s face, sprinkled through his lips, forming a puddle under his tongue. When he’d finished running obstacles— dripping in sweat— he’d collapsed. Now, Nano was circling Jaxon in his faux-trainer way and yammering on and on about earth manipulation. We feel the earth. We love it. It loves us. Jaxon wasn’t Earthen. He’d told Nano that so many times he could teach a class on selective listening.
“We work our energy through our feet, through earth’s many vibrations, frequencies, through its music and its poetry.”
Beck would roll her eyes if she was there. Aria would say, “He gets it.” Jaxon didn’t get it. He understood forty percent of what Nano said. The other sixty percent was the indecipherable crap that spewed from Planet Nano—his own special habitat.
If Jaxon let his energy move through his feet, he would start causing explosions every time he took a step. He had to control his manipulation with his fingers— his sore fingers that throbbed at the slightest movement. He chuckled at the thought of Nano teaching him a thing about manipulating fire.
“Wha’chu”— Nano scrunched his brow, looking at Jaxon like the missing piece to his puzzle was right in front of him. “Oh, you think this is funny?”
Jaxon climbed to his knees. No, he didn’t think it was funny. He thought it was hilarious. “I don’t.”
“You got this? Okay. Tell me how Enkindling works, then.”
“Well…” Jaxon stood up, tried to channel his training. Farah believed Kamiaka had created them for control. Jaxon believed that fire was the strongest element. Heat moved as calm or as fierce as the wind. Flowed, like water, from one movement to the next. He explained this to Nano. He steadied his stance, stood straight, sucked cool air into his nostrils and tried to feel his breath swirling in his chest. Sunlight blazed on his skin; heat gathered in his spine. He straightened his fingers and posed them before him, facing the sky.
Nano watched his concentration with mock attentiveness.
In the academy, they used precise, quick hand and finger movements, based on Old-World Japanese boxing techniques. Jaxon rarely needed to move his feet, unless he was pacing. They worked the energy through their hands. Not their feet. He explained this too, but Nano didn’t seem interested in learning.
“So… this right?” Nano mimicked Jaxon’s stance, poising his fingers like they were individual snakes. “How do you stop ya hands from shaking?”
The air swelled around Jaxon’s fingers. He balled his hands into fists. “Practice?” And he was out of it.
“All right. We can work with that, too,” Nano said, his tone teasing.
The rain stopped. Jaxon mashed moist dirt under his feet. Nano snatched his arms and thrust his elbows inward. “Protect your ribs. And your head.”
“I need my fingers.”
Nano mugged his head, knocking him off balance. “Learn.”
Jaxon steadied himself again.
Nano cleared his throat and applied what he’d called an obedient accent, putting unnecessary stress on each vowel. “Now. Everything vibrates at its own frequency.” He straightened his back and neck, and tucked his hands behind his back.
“I don’t sound like that.”
Nano slapped the back of his legs with his rod and Jaxon crumpled forward. “Learn,” he said after Jaxon’s knees had already hit the ground.
He stood again, adjusted his stance. Again.
“We pull energy into our feet and manipulate earth’s vibrations. That allows for more force in our kicks. Emotions are important too. Joy, anger, fear, controlling all of’em matters. ‘Cause one must be harmonious with earth’s pulse.” He set down his rod to demonstrate, breathing deep into his chest. “You see?”
No, Jaxon thought. “Yes.” He tried to remember his own training, but he saw only flashes of late-night conversations with his bunkmates. And he didn’t feel “earth’s pulse”. “Can we skip to the kicking part?”
With his rod, Nano pointed out a purple weed at the start of the path. “Come inside when you feel that growin’.”
Thunder rumbled low, the sky ashen with overcast. “How in the hell would I do that?” Jaxon said.
“Look, I know for a fact fire has no control. Seen it in action. You mastered the control part, bait. Now, I want you to lose it.” Nano walked off. “Aria will bring ya meals.”
“Are you serious?” He couldn’t manipulate the earth! It wasn’t in his genetics. How would he feel its “vibrations”? This experiment was purposeless, which meant it was a waste of time.
“It’s easy. Feel something. Anything. Use your emotions, man.” Nano said nothing else. He went into the house, locking the door after him.
24
For three days, Jaxon ate, slept and dreamed under the stars. He listened to the world at night, after the sun passed the torch, when the wind finally rested.
He listened.
He felt nothing he understood. Since he got there—before—his emotions were jumbled, messy. Like with Naomi. He hadn’t known how he felt when she kissed him, but he decrypted right and wrong like he’d created the very concept. Ask him to recite the seven commandments, no problem. Ask him to feel vibrations in the earth, ask him to explain his own feelings—not a chance.
His pacing resolved nothing, but he couldn’t stand still. It drove him crazy when he couldn’t solve a problem. The truth was that he was smaller than that weed. Insignificant. One-dimensional. At least it had something to offer. At least it had beauty.
Jaxon raised his hands. Almost everything contained heat, even the littlest plant. He didn’t have to go outside of his nature to capture it. He needed only pay attention.
Learn. Nano’s voice played on a loop.
Jaxon imagined he was growing from the ground.
Learn.
He smooshed the dirt with his feet and planted his toes deep. Brow scrunched, full of frustration, he pushed out steady, deep breaths, like Nano had demonstrated, and let them pour out of him. There’d be no vibrations any time soon, but the heat settled in his spine, in the ground under his toes. It settled in the air and he held on to it for as long as he could.
He captured moist heat in the blades of grass, in the trees, in blueberries and tomatoes, and the little weed. Its warmth pulsed a steady rhythm in his veins. It wasn’t hot like he’d expected, but cool, with a taste like frozen licorice.
Learn…
About now, he’d snap, or wave his hand, or flick a finger to manipulate its heat. He tried with his hallux, flicking it as much as he could. A powerful scream ripped open the air before a BOOM. The immense explosion rocked the earth, billowing in Jaxon’s chest.
Oops. That wasn’t what he’d wanted.
He dug his toes out of the ground, waving his hand as if this would make the smoke clear faster. He sucked in a deep breath and energy poured back into him. When he turned around, Aria and the others had moved the kitchen table to the side yard and were eating purple popcorn. Except for Beck, who chomped on a cold carrot.
Jaxon rolled his eyes over their set-up and frowned. “Can I please come inside?”
“Why you think we came out?” Nano smacked on his popcorn.
“I can’t feel it.”
Nano leaned to glance past Jaxon. “And now, you won’t.”
“How about you feel my fire?” Jaxon said. “How about you pump the sun’s energy into your veins and make the rain explode? Can you do that?”
“Can you?”
He waited for Jaxon to respond, but Jaxon said nothing. He would. Eventually, he’d learn how to use his manipulation so no one would hurt him—or challenge him—again.
“I’uh give you somethin’ bigger,” Nano said. “How ‘bout that tree over there?”
“No,” Jaxon stated.
Beck set down her carrot and turned her head in his direction. “What?”
“I want to come inside.”<
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“He gave you an order,” Beck said, pulling her feet down from the table.
“It’s not a smart one. I’d set the forest on fire.”
“I don’t like the way you think.” Beck stood up, smirking. “So limited. Allow me to change that.”
“New order.” Nano shouted, taking Aria’s hand and leading her toward the house. “Touch her.”
At first, Jaxon didn’t know what he meant. But when Beck started to crack her knuckles and stretch her arms, Jaxon understood. She wanted to teach him a lesson. She wanted him to fight her. She was five-two and couldn’t weigh more than a hundred and fifteen pounds, soaking wet. “Beck.”
She raised both her eyebrows, removing her nose ring. “Yes, Pepper Face?” She tucked it in her pocket.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” His flames could do plenty damage if he made a mistake.
Beck laughed. It was the first time Jaxon had heard such a hearty sound from her. “Cute,” she said.
The air ignited beside him and thin flashes of green materialized into her favorite extinct feline—the lioness.
Beck materialized a wall and the lioness exploded into it. Jaxon had no time to adjust his vision around the dust and sweat, pouring into his eyes. Beck blocked his every attempt, moving nothing but her feet.
She pulled the earth from beneath him like snatching a cloth from a dinner table. He hit hard.
“Didn’t you say you were a soldier? You’re barely a man.”
Jaxon grunted, aching to prove himself.
Laughing, Beck formed a ball around her and raced toward the Den. It rolled beneath her feet and fingertips like sleek ice.
Jaxon’s explosions rocked her but didn’t crack her manipulation. Bending earth to her liking would deplete her energy. Submerging him in the trees guaranteed her a win. She was close. He couldn’t let her get there. He snapped, but the explosion gave her the shove she needed.
She rolled in the dark, and hurled into an evergreen, breaking her manipulation. She fumbled out of her boots into the deciduous trees and started to climb.
