Fires of Man Read online

  The seconds expanded. He could see the dark man’s eyelids open and close in slow motion. He could feel a drop of sweat trickle down his forehead and wind its way along his temple. Was this the brink of death? Would God and His prophets be so cruel as to draw out a man’s final agonizing moments with such clarity? Aaron prayed to God; he prayed to each of the prophets the Prophist Bible said had once walked the land. He even prayed to the fifth prophet, the Prophet-to-Come.

  As his prayer surged through the corridors of Aaron’s mind, something grew bright in him. He thought he could hear a voice, soft but clear. Seize it, it said, it is your birthright.

  Aaron did as he was told. He seized the fire in his heart.

  The air crackled with an invisible current. The dark man yanked back his hand as if stung, yet his face was triumphant. Aaron’s feet did not touch the ground. He remained aloft, borne by an impossible force. It felt as though his very insides were aflame.

  Lay your power bare, the voice urged.

  The agony was too much for Aaron. It would tear him apart! In his desperation, he turned to the only person he could. The man in black stood there, observing with casual curiosity.

  “Help me!” Aaron said.

  The man shook his head. “This is a valuable lesson. Unleash your power, or it will destroy you.”

  “I can’t,” Aaron said through gritted teeth. “I don’t know how.”

  You do, urged the voice. Open your heart.

  Aaron shuddered, closed his eyes, and stopped resisting. He let the energy wash through him, let himself be carried away on its fickle waves and eddies. He accepted the pain. The sensation was overwhelming, but he relaxed into it, relinquished control. His urge was to clamp down, to shut off the torrent, but he knew it was too late. He had loosed the flood, and it could not be dammed again. Every cell in his body felt furiously, excruciatingly alive.

  Now raise it up, the voice said.

  Aaron did. He grasped his power in two imagined hands and sent it spiraling toward the heavens.

  Boom!

  A shower of fine dust rained down on Aaron’s face. He opened his eyes.

  A starless night sky greeted him through a jagged hole in the ceiling. He curled and flexed his toes, again planted firmly on the floor.

  The dark man gazed thoughtfully at the roof, then at Aaron. “You’ll do nicely.” He turned, and then was outside the bars, walking away.

  Bewildered, Aaron stared at the purple expanse above him. Had he done this? Was it possible?

  It is, the voice reassured him. All this, and more.

  The dark man’s receding footfalls snapped Aaron back to reality.

  “Wait,” he called out, his voice a rasp. “What’s going to happen to me? Please . . .”

  The man stopped.

  “Only dogs beg,” he said, without turning back.

  Aaron said nothing, only nodded.

  “Someone will take you to your quarters,” the man said. “You have one day to rest. Then we’ll begin your training.” He faced Aaron once more, and the shadows played oddly across the man’s features, giving him a cadaverous cast.

  “Who are you?” Aaron asked the man who had stolen everything from him.

  “Some call me John Black. You will call me sir.”

  “Sir,” Aaron echoed.

  But the man was already gone.

  7

  FINN

  The next morning, Finn awoke at 0430, to the sound of Sergeant Douglass hollering.

  “Up, you crapsacks!” he brayed. “Asses outta bed, on the double! Move it!”

  Finn rolled out of bed, his entire body feeling leaden. Despite the buzz of success he’d felt last night, he hadn’t slept well. In the barracks, while the other guys had joked and gravitated into groups of friends, he’d kept to himself. He’d felt like if he tried to join a conversation, he’d be intruding.

  There was one recruit—Merritt “Merry” Hosteen—who’d noticed Finn behaving like a loner. He’d homed in on it, as bullies somehow always did, and made Finn the butt of several jokes about a “relationship with his right hand.”

  Finn had wanted to retort, but whenever he was in a situation like this, it was as if his mind froze up. He couldn’t think of a good comeback. And he knew that if he said something stupid, he’d end up getting skewered by Merry in front of everyone. So instead he’d ignored it, pretended to be asleep while trying to forget the rage swirling in his belly.

  Unconsciously, he glanced in Merry’s direction. The insolent, brown-haired boy winked back and made a jerking-off motion.

  Finn’s teeth ground together. This was turning out just like high school. Beginning the day would actually be a relief. He couldn’t wait to get outside, as far from that jerk Merry as possible. And he was excited to learn more about these incredible powers. If only he could be sure that he could repeat what he’d done yesterday. He wanted to look good in front of . . .

  Sonja. The thought of seeing her again made his heart flutter.

  He and the other recruits made their beds, tidied their spaces, shaved, and used the bathroom. Finn applied sunscreen this time, slathering the stuff over his mild sunburn from the day before. By 0500, everyone was assembled outside, ready to begin morning physical training. Before he’d left home, Finn had studied the basic training information packet meticulously. In this, at least, there were no surprises.

  After five minutes of light stretching, they started a four-mile run around the compound. Finn lagged behind the entire way. He tried to follow his old high school gym coach’s adage to “pace” himself, yet it made no difference. He’d spent all his days reading or perched in front of his computer screen, roaming digital worlds, and talking to teammates on his headset.

  Panting, covered in perspiration, he dragged himself along behind the rest of the recruits. Sonja was a smudge of flame-colored hair in the distance.

  “One o’ you in every pack,” Douglass barked, moving alongside Finn. “The rate you’re runnin’, my grandmama could outpace your sorry stragglin’ ass. And she’s sixteen goddamn years in the grave! So lift them legs, son. Give it some juice! Pick up the pace, straggler, or I’ll have you peeling potatoes till sunup!”

  Finn put on a meager amount of speed. The truth was he could barely pay attention to the sergeant’s taunts. His breath was ragged, each one a labored heave. Cramps stitched a web of pain up and down his right side. His legs burned. Sweat stung his eyes, while spots swam in front of his vision.

  He thought he might pass out.

  That notion jolted him forward. He wasn’t about to show that kind of weakness in front of everyone. If he did, he’d never hear the end of it. Adrenaline surged through him. He had to go faster! He urged his tired limbs to pick up the pace.

  “That’s right, move it along, let’s go, let’s go!” Douglass yelled. When he was satisfied, he trotted across the outpost to shout at some other recruits.

  Finn exhaled in a rush, and slowed again, gulping down air.

  Afterward, the entire group did pushups and situps. Finn could barely manage ten of each. He had to endure yet more of the sergeant calling him a “straggler,” which was really only a step away from “Stump.” Worse, he heard the new epithet whispered among Merry and his cohorts.

  It was becoming “Straggler” with a capital S.

  Finn shook his head. Had he been stupid to think these powers would make things different? It was still early. There had to be some way he could turn this around. Believing that his status as an outcast was a foregone conclusion had never done him any good. But how was he supposed to keep himself from falling into that same old trap?

  He focused on the agonizing burn in his muscles, pushing away his concerns. The more he worried about it, the worse it was going to feel.

  When PT concluded, Finn and the rest of the exhausted group shuffled toward the mess hall for breakfast. As he ambled forward, nauseated and mildly dizzy, he heard Merry say, “Nice job today, Straggler.”

  The onl
y response Finn could think of was “Fuck you,” and he knew it wasn’t good enough. So he said nothing.

  Inside the mess, he lined up for his shot at scrambled eggs, bacon, ham, sausage, pancakes, cereal, and burnt home fries. He grabbed eggs and bacon, and some of the fries as well. Then he took his tray and headed for . . .

  Where? He hadn’t made any friends yet. Last night, during dinner, things had been more tentative; a large number of the recruits had eaten alone. But after spending a night together in the barracks, bonds were already forming among most of them.

  He stood for several long seconds, adrift in a sea of strangers. People milled about, but he had no connection to any of them. He was on his own.

  “Hey,” said someone.

  Finn turned.

  At a table to his left sat a young black guy, and, across from him, a pretty, gangly girl who’d had her hair shorn like the boys, all the way down to a dirty blond fuzz. “Need somewhere to sit?” the guy asked Finn.

  “Uh, sure,” Finn said. A part of him doubted this sudden friendliness from a stranger, but one seat was as good as another. He slid onto the bench beside the black kid.

  “I’m James,” the kid said.

  “Val,” said the girl. She gave a curt wave.

  “Finn,” he told them. He’d dealt with people in the past who’d gained his trust, then used it to embarrass him. He’d decided he would never fall for that again.

  “So . . . that guy Merry’s a dick,” James said. “Can’t stand people like that. Figured you might need someone to commiserate with.” He smiled.

  James appeared genuine enough, but Finn couldn’t believe yet. Still, he said, “Thanks.”

  “Besides,” said Val, “not like our little group here is bursting at the seams, exactly.”

  “Yeah, right,” James said. “I need someone to save me from listening to her all day.”

  “How do you not find all this stuff fascinating?” Val asked.

  “I don’t know shit about quantum physics,” James shot back. “I don’t understand half of what you’re saying!”

  “The implications!” Val exclaimed, smacking her hand on the table. “Don’t you understand what this means for science? Don’t you—?”

  Finn began to laugh.

  Val cut off. “What’s so funny?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” Finn said. He put a hand over his mouth to hide his smile. James and Val didn’t seem like they were trying to play a trick on him after all. Their arguing was actually kind of entertaining. “Tell me some of the . . . implications.”

  “Really?” Val asked.

  “Oh, God,” James said, “now you’ve done it. This is all on you, man.”

  Val launched into a lengthy explanation about particles, and waves, and quantum uncertainty. Despite his initial interest, Finn found himself quickly zoning out. His command of high school physics wasn’t nearly good enough to parse the confusing terminology and obscure references Val rattled off without batting an eye. He found his gaze drifting . . .

  He saw Sonja.

  She sat by herself on the far side of the mess, picking over her breakfast. Briefly, she looked up, her vision tracking across the room. She met Finn’s eyes.

  He looked away, and by the time he worked up to the courage to glance at her again, she’d already returned to her food.

  “You like her, huh?” James asked.

  “Wh-what?” Finn stammered.

  “The redhead,” said James. “Sonja, right?”

  “You’re meddling,” Val said. “Don’t meddle. No one likes that.”

  “I’m not meddling,” James said. “I’m encouraging.” He turned to Finn. “Why don’t you go talk to her?”

  “But I don’t know what to say,” Finn protested.

  “You could say you saw her sitting alone, and wanted to see if she’d like some company,” James replied.

  “She’s sitting alone because she wants to be alone,” Val said. “Duh! Of course she doesn’t want any company. Stop putting stupid ideas in his head.”

  “I’m just trying to help the guy out,” James said. “Chill, woman.”

  “Did you just call me ‘woman’?” Val demanded.

  The two of them started arguing again, while Finn looked at Sonja. Maybe James was right; maybe he should go talk to her. If he wanted things to be different around here, this was a good first step. He didn’t know how it would turn out, and the thought of talking to her filled him with apprehension. Even so . . .

  I can do this, he told himself. Just walk up, start a conversation. He’d never been bold enough to do that before, but there had to be a first time for everything.

  He got to his feet.

  “Good luck, man,” James said.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” said Val.

  As Finn walked across the mess hall, his legs felt weak. At that moment, Sonja met his gaze again. Her expression was cautious.

  His breathing quickened. For a second, he felt like he’d been plucked out of space; he’d fallen into a world where her dark eyes were all that existed. He couldn’t back down now, not after she’d seen him approaching. He walked the rest of the way to her, and as he tried to slide into the seat across from her, he banged his shin on the table leg. “Ow,” he hissed.

  Sonja giggled.

  Finn reddened. Had he screwed this up before he’d even said a word?

  But she wasn’t laughing at his misfortune, he realized. She continued to look at him openly, as if inviting him to join in. He chuckled. “Hi,” he said.

  “Hi,” she replied. Then she glanced down at her food, her defenses going up again. Her brow furrowed. “Um . . . what’s up?”

  “Oh, uh . . .” Finn searched for the words. How had James put it? “I just thought, um . . . since you were sitting by yourself . . . you might want some company.” As the words left his mouth, they sounded vapid to him. What had he been thinking?

  “Company?” she asked. Her pale lips pulled into a smile, but then the expression vanished as quickly as it appeared. “I’m not . . . interesting or anything.” She nibbled on her bottom lip. “You’re probably better off talking to someone else.”

  Not interesting? “You’re amazing,” Finn blurted out. “What you did yesterday . . .” He trailed off, overcome by a sudden need to clap his hands over his mouth to stop himself from talking.

  Sonja shook her head. “They were just excited. It didn’t have anything to do with me.”

  “That’s not true,” Finn insisted. Why couldn’t he just shut up? “You were like . . . so . . . great.” He could have groaned; he wanted smack himself for his ineloquence.

  “Really?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  This time, when she smiled, it remained. “You’re . . . Finn, right?” she asked. “Stockton?”

  “Just Finn,” he told her. Maybe this was actually going okay. She wouldn’t be asking for his name if it wasn’t, right? “And you’re . . . Sonja?”

  She nodded.

  He extended his hand. “It’s really nice to—”

  Splat! Finn felt something warm and soft collide with the back of his head. What the hell? He reached up to touch it, uncomprehending. His fingers came away covered in a spoonful’s worth of grease and bits of potato.

  Home fries.

  He whirled, surveying the mess hall. He was afraid to find that it was James and Val responsible, but no, they looked every bit as shocked as he was.

  The true culprit wasn’t difficult to spot.

  Merry sat amid a group of friends, smacking the table with his spoon and laughing. “Come on, Straggler,” he yelled, “don’t strike out, now! Guy like you won’t get a second chance with a hottie like that!” His buddies chortled and clapped him on the back.

  His face burning with fury, Finn stood. He paused, hoping someone in authority would appear to punish Merry. Nothing happened. Had no one actually witnessed Merry throwing the potatoes? Or was there simply no one who cared enough
to say so?

  Dammit, he thought. He couldn’t just leave this be. Words didn’t work for him, so the only things left were his fists. He knew he’d end up in trouble, and the only fights he’d been in, with his brothers, he’d never won. But . . . if he let this stand, Merry would just keep walking all over him. He took a step away from the table, hands clenching.

  “Wait,” Sonja said.

  He turned to her.

  She shook her head. “Don’t,” she said.

  Finn’s fists loosened. Looking into her eyes, the urge to fight faded as suddenly as it had come. He sighed, and brushed the remnants of the home fries out of his hair. He was too mortified to sit and talk with her again right now. “I’m sorry,” he told her. He slunk back to his original table.

  Merry and his gang hooted.

  “Don’t worry about that jackass,” James told Finn, a moment later. “At least you tried. I’m sure you’ll get another shot.”

  Finn wasn’t so sure. What if Merry was right? Could he expect a second chance with a girl like that? He wasn’t just upset; he was furious! Royally pissed, as his father said. Before Merry’s interruption, things had actually been going well, he thought. It just wasn’t fair.

  I hate you, he thought, glaring at the laughing boy. I hate your guts.

  After breakfast, Douglass sat all of them down in the yard. He told them they were going to do something that wasn’t in the basic training information. Finn thought that meant they would use their powers again, but he was wrong.

  Douglass was talking about meditation.

  For two hours, Douglass first took them through guided breathing exercises, and then, later, through mental calmness techniques. “Integral part of usin’ psionics,” he said, “is havin’ a calm, sharp mind. You gotta exercise it, just like you gotta exercise your body! Understand?”

  Finn couldn’t help but be amused at the gruff sergeant instructing them in something so relaxing. However, he was very careful not to let a smile show. The last thing he wanted was to be singled out again.

  For a while, Finn tried to get into the exercises. However, Sonja was sitting two rows ahead of him; before long, he found himself lost in the curve of her long, slender neck; in the pale smoothness of her arms. The two hours went by, and all he saw was her.