Elemental Hunger

by Elana Johnson

  “What will happen to you?”

  “I’ll just say I couldn’t find you.” He drew me into a hug, not our first, but it felt like it all over again. “You’ve got maybe five minutes, okay? Run fast, Gabby.”

  Shoving aside my intense desire to stay with Jarvis and letting my memory of the other female Firemaker take over, I turned and ran. To the right, the practice pools for the Watermaidens lay black and still. I hurried down the path, ignoring the rich earth on my left, where Earthmovers spent their days honing their Elemental gifts. I’d never had that chance. Part of me winced as I realized what I was becoming. A fugitive.

  And see, that was at least as bad as a genetic freak.

  The south gate beckoned, glossy with snow. I focused on my Element, desperate for the flames to obey. A moment passed, then two. Frustration turned into a strangled sob. “Come on. Please.”

  Finally, my hands erupted in hot, blue flames. I gripped two bars and held them while the fire kissed the metal.

  Summoning all the strength in my wiry body, I yanked. The softened iron widened enough for me to slip my head through. Twisting sideways, my shoulders and hips cleared the narrow gap.

  I shoved the bars back together and ducked into the safety of the forest. I’d traveled a similar path every night for the past three months, and my feet found their rhythm after a few steps.

  Whispers followed me. I’d never been afraid in the forest before, but now my heart thumped with every noise as I moved through the undergrowth. I had the distinct feeling that I was being followed.

  Hunted.

  By the time the pale winter sun woke, my once-long stride had shortened considerably and my calves were cramping. My right knee screamed with pain every time I stepped and hadn’t been cooperating for a couple of hours now. I’d find my feet covered with blisters too, if the aches there told me anything.

  I leaned against a tree at the edge of the woods, a sudden drop looming a few yards away. Below me, a valley stretched into an ancient city skyline. Having lived for sixteen years in the confines of Crylon, I had no idea another city was so close—or so big. After the Manifestation, the population had been contained in cities for protection. See, the first person to Manifest was a Firemaker—that was why Firemakers led Councils—and he wasn’t a very nice person.

  Jarvis thought perhaps he just hadn’t learned how to control his power, but the lessons I’d endured said he was cruel unless people obeyed his every whim. When other Elementals began Manifesting, a wise woman who could call water from the ground suggested they form a governing Council to ensure the survival and protection of the human race.

  Some cities were enormous metropolises, while some were simple villages. Councils were assigned cities or entire regions, depending on the size of the population.

  The Supreme Elemental and his Council resided in Tarpulin and ran the United Territories through the city Councilmen. Only wilderness existed between cities, and food and shelter were hard to come by. This forced people to stay under the safety of their Councilman in established cities. My best option was to find an inhabited city and somehow get inside its gates. Hope flared in my chest at the sight of the abandoned city below me; I could hide among the many buildings puncturing the sky and maybe find something to sustain me until I reached a functioning city.

  But my Element burned as I realized I wouldn’t be safe in this abandoned city. “Because tall buildings are too dangerous.” My voice scraped through the silence. Earthmovers could send a building to the ground in seconds. People lived in single-story houses simply so they wouldn’t have as much rubble to dig through if the Councilman ordered his Earthmover to raze a neighborhood.

  “You shouldn’t stand out in the open either,” I reprimanded myself. As soon as I said it, a thump shook the tree trunk next to me. A blade quivered there, mere inches from skewering me. In a knee-jerk reaction, a shower of flames pulsed from my hands. I aimed them toward the trees where the knife had come from. Saturated with snow, the wet wood caused a cloud of hot mist to form.

  I wrenched the knife—a sentry’s blade—from the trunk and ran toward the drop-off. Rocky and slippery, I slid down, half on my back and half on my butt. At the bottom, snow melted through my shoes, sapping my warmth. The mist settled around me, mixed with the soothing aroma of leftover smoke. I couldn’t see more than ten feet in any direction. So I ran again, heading in the general direction of the city.

  The few trees I hurried past seemed to have eyes. When I spotted a stream, I dodged behind a lone pine, hopefully out of view of any passing sentries. See, Unmanifested boys who weren’t chosen for a Council were often trained as sentries—and the spark of life got sucked out of their eyes by the end of the first week. Sentries were skilled assassins, and they did the bidding of their Councilman, no matter the risk or cost. They were physically fit, logical, and armed. I had no chance against a sentry.

  I forced back the fear escalating through my system and stuck my hands in the water, stung by the chill. I pulled back, my cupped hands dripping liquid ice. I pulled on my firepower, but it recoiled. Hot tears gathered behind my eyes, and I seized on their warmth.

  Flames erupted from my fingertips, heating the water in my hands past the holy-freezing-c-c-cold point in a few seconds. I drank and washed my face. The glassy water provided a mottled mirror, and I actually thought about what Cat would say regarding the condition of my hair.

  “Gabby, honey….” She wouldn’t actually have the words. Enough tea tree oil didn’t exist to tame the mess I had sprouting from my head.

  I ran my wet hands over my hair, dismissing the thoughts of Cat. They hurt too much, and I already had enough physical pain raging through my body. I couldn’t deal with memories of lost friends too.

  Half jogging and half limping, I followed the stream, only leaving it to roam the outskirts of the city. I stepped up to a mound of metal and ran my fingers over the rusty surface. I thought it was a car. The first course of my Educator training had been history. Before the Manifestation, everyone drove cars. And they lived in multiple-story buildings with elevators, machines that took them up and down. And they shopped in malls. And communicated with handheld devices called phones. Now only sentries used motorized transportation and could talk over long distances.

  I hadn’t asked why. I’d learned quickly that asking questions wasn’t tolerated.

  I walked down the street, staying close to the buildings where the snow couldn’t record my footsteps. Buildings had weathered; debris crumbled into piles. But only the windows on the lower levels were broken. I surmised that by the time the Elementals arrived, the Unmanifested had fled.

  Metal poles poked through snow banks with strange writing I didn’t understand.

  They must be letters, I thought. Before the Manifestation, everyone knew how to read and write. Now, only Elementals and the Unmanifested on a Council or the Educator track learned to read. Since I’d only recently chosen my track, my approval still hadn’t come from the Supreme Elemental. And Educator Ostrund wouldn’t teach me to read until it did.

  “Stupid man,” I muttered along with the grumbling of my belly.

  After wandering aimlessly for what felt like forever, I leaned against the side of a building in the heart of the city. The bricks shifted, crumbling under my weight. I stumbled backward and fell through the wall.

  I grunted as the bricks landed on my stomach and legs. Tossing them off, I got up and brushed the mortar from my jeans. The building kept the biting wind at bay, but it made me feel trapped. Closed in.

  A row of identical machines took up the space nearest me. Each station had a black conveyor belt and a blank screen. Numbers identified each location, with racks separating the belts.

  Something sat on the shelves. I strode forward, vowing to burn the racks if I didn’t find food. What I found: Empty boxes covered in a thick layer of dust.

  My fingertips tingled with fire. I took a deep breath, which I found was not the best idea in an old building
. Coughing, I turned my attention to the rest of the space. It had been sectioned into long corridors, open at both ends. As I walked, the empty metal shelves on both sides repeated my footsteps.

  I wandered up and down the aisles, desperation growing into a hard coal in my gut. At length, I found several bottles. They smelled like the infirmary—sterile and sharp—like death. Inedible. I thought briefly about pouring the liquid on my feet, which throbbed with every step.

  As I rounded the end of an aisle in the corner of the building, the distinct rhythm of a second set of footsteps filled the silence.

  The steps landed heavy and even—a sentry’s gait. I imagined the black boots and ground my teeth together to keep calm.

  Problem #1: The hole I’d created in the brick wall loomed two hundred feet away.

  Problem #2: A shadow waltzed in front of it. Another sentry.

  Solution: A black door lay several feet to my right. I sprinted toward it, cringing with the hollow thump of my fist on the plastic.

  Footsteps ran behind me. A man shouted. Behind the plastic door, darkness stretched. With only seconds to hide, I lit one finger and dove toward the first door I saw. It swung open easily, but I cursed silently at the sight of so much wood. I could torch this place simply by sneezing.

  A closet stood open in the corner and I crawled inside, extinguishing the flame in my hand and pulling the door closed. It drifted open again, revealing two silhouettes in the gray rectangle of the doorway. I slid to the back of the closet, silently adjusting some low-hanging fabrics in front of me. The muscles in my legs knotted and unknotted, spasming from the quick sprint on top of the punishing all-night run.

  The sentries turned, and the sound of their footsteps faded. I waited, still as stone, barely breathing. Hours might have passed. My legs grew stiff and tight, but still I didn’t dare move. I felt a pressing sense of hopelessness. Two sentries are hunting me.

  “She’s not here,” a harsh voice said, interrupting my hyperventilating thoughts.

  “Yes, she is. You heard the door,” a younger man replied, coming closer.

  “Yes, but she could’ve opened that door with a blast of smoke and gone out the front while we’ve been piddling around back here.”

  Blazes, I wish I’d been able to attend Firemaker training. See, I didn’t know I could control smoke.

  “Let’s split up,” the younger sentry said. Something in his voice nagged at my memory.

  “Right. So you can kill her as soon as you spot her? Don’t think so.”

  “My orders are to bring her back to Crylon. Councilman Ferguson didn’t specify dead or alive.”

  “The Supreme Elemental wants her alive—and in Tarpulin. If she dies, so do you.”

  My blood ran cold. What did the Supremist want with me? And in Tarpulin? See, people didn’t return from “visiting” the Supreme Elemental.

  He made sure of that. And if he wanted me, my survival rate plummeted. He always got what he wanted.

  I remembered what my favorite teacher, Educator Graham, had said. “Supremist Pederson keeps all Elemental records.” Her voice had sounded as old as she looked. “Every Elemental must send documentation of their Manifestation to Tarpulin. This is how the Supremist keeps track of the talent in the United Territories. He watches for the most talented Elementals to train at his personal academy. He assigns cities to Councils he deems worthy. He is an extremely powerful man. Dangerous, but essential to our survival.”

  At the time, I hadn’t yet Manifested my Element, and already I hoped for a Council. Because Councils had servants. Friends. Each other.

  They belonged.

  “Take care to serve your Councilman well, Gabriella.” Educator Graham had said, looking deep into my eyes. “You do not want to deal with the Supremist if you can avoid it.”

  I’d believed my teacher. The urgent way her eyes sparkled, the breathless trepidation in her voice, said more than her words.

  That intense terror settled in the silence now surrounding me, because I wasn’t obeying my Councilman very well.

  “I think she’s here,” the younger sentry said, jerking me out of the fear-filled cloud in my head. “I want my knife back. I say we wait.”

  “You’re the Unmanifested who missed when you had the chance. Wait if you want, boy. I’m done here. She’s long gone—and we’re wasting time. The only thing we’ve got on our side is this infernal weather.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Come on, boy. Don’t they teach you anything at that school? Firemakers need heat. It’s a good thing this winter has been so cold—and so long. Now let’s go. This freak is fast, and my boss is impatient.” The Tarpulin sentry’s voice faded as he moved away.

  After a moment, the Crylon sentry followed, whacking the plastic door as he went.

  I waited until I was sure they’d gone, thinking about how the temperature affected me. I’d never noticed it before, but I could summon and control my fire more easily when it was warm.

  I couldn’t shake the fact that two sentries were hunting me. And just thinking about Tarpulin made my hands shake as I pushed myself up, waiting for the feeling to come back into my legs. They felt like they’d never forgive me for pushing them to run all night. Each step proved painful, as the blisters on my feet rubbed against my shoes.

  I discovered I’d been hiding behind a long coat hanging in the corner of the closet. I pulled it down and found gloves in one pocket. And in the other, something crinkled when I touched it.

  I paused at the noise. Minutes passed, and no one showed up.

  I pulled out the object, ignited one finger, and looked at the slim bar. The brown wrapper had writing I couldn’t read and made a lot of noise when I ripped it off. The bar inside was brown, crisscrossed with grayish lines.

  I sniffed it, but smelled nothing. When I bit into it, the insides broke into little pieces. I found it disgusting—and gritty—but, hey, food was food.

  I searched the closet for more to eat but came away empty. After slipping my arms into the too-big coat, I hobbled out into the room. The floorboards creaked. I froze with one foot hanging in midair. But no one came back.

  Not daring to light more than a single finger, I searched the room. The desk drawer held more gritty bars, and I shoved all five of them in the front pocket of my hoodie.

  I crept away from the plastic door, listening for the sentries. I heard nothing. After igniting both palms, I looked around. I stood at the mouth of a warehouse. Cracks ran in weaving patterns over the cement. Towering steel shelves held weeping cardboard boxes.

  Cautiously, I moved forward, snuffed out the fire in one hand and pulled the nearest box toward me. A scratching sound scraped through the silence.

  Status: Empty.

  All the boxes on the lower shelf had been emptied. Maybe the city hadn’t been abandoned as fast as I’d supposed. I extinguished my other hand and let my eyes adjust to the dark.

  After a few minutes, I could see well enough to hoist myself onto the shelf in front of me. Boxes: Barren.

  I climbed up another shelf. Status: Dusty.

  Then another. The top shelf held boxes that hadn’t been opened. I slashed through the tape with the sentry knife and pulled out two cans.

  They had pop-top lids that grated on my nerves when I peeled them off. The smell wafting from the cans made my mouth water. I drained them both, balking a little at the chunks of meat. At least I thought it was supposed to be meat. Either way, the stew would provide enough energy to keep me going.

  I had to travel light, so I only took four cans of stew, shoving one in each of my pockets, glad my jeans were of the cargo variety. The last two cans went in my coat pockets.

  I jumped down from the tower of shelves just as lights buzzed on overhead. I crouched, squinting in the bright light. I’d only heard stories about electricity, the man-made light people used before the Manifestation.

  “I knew you weren’t gone. Stand up, I already see you.” The young voice, still
so familiar, sliced through the emptiness in the warehouse.

  I straightened slowly. The Crylon sentry stood just inside the plastic door, a knife in one hand, and the other positioned in front of his body for balance.

  His attack stance.

  My own hands hung limply at my sides, the stolen knife tucked in my waistband. Without moving my head, I glanced around. What I saw: Shelves and more shelves.

  “Gabriella Kilpatrick, you’re under arrest. You killed seventeen Elemental students in the northern barracks at the training school in the city of Crylon.”

  “I did not,” I murmured, though it sounded like a shout in the spacious warehouse.

  The sentry’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward. Without warning, he launched the knife. I dodged to the left and raised my hand. The blade skimmed my coat before embedding in the door behind me.

  The ping! of metal on metal registered in my brain as I threw a plume of fire down the aisle. A couple of empty boxes caught the flames, and the soothing smell of smoke filled my head.

  “You killed Harriett,” he said, stamping his steaming boots to extinguish the fire.

  “A Watermaiden ought to be able to quench the flames,” I shot back.

  “So it’s her fault?”

  I shrugged. I hated Harriet Thornton, but that didn’t mean I’d torched her barracks. “I’m not saying that. I didn’t set that blazing fire.”

  “When did your Element Manifest?”

  I didn’t see why he cared, but I couldn’t think of a reason not to tell him. “Last fall.”

  “Why didn’t you report it?”

  Hot infernos. “I—”

  “Do you know what the Supreme Elemental does to liars?”

  “You don’t work for him.”

  “Everyone works for him.” The scorn in his voice nagged at me again.

  I hadn’t been paying attention, and the sentry had moved halfway down the aisle. “Don’t come any closer.” I raised my hands into my own attack stance, which was way less impressive than his.