Frank Saxon looked at the fire in the ring of rocks in front of him. He had decided to


    take the weekend off and head out of Idaville for a while. He would have a ton of


    work to catch up on Monday, but he didn’t care at the moment.


    His boss, Frank Flanagan, had landed some contracts with the government to make


    parts. Production had been slow at first since America was neutral at the time. After


    Pearl, production had ramped up to meet the increasing demand.


    Saxon had been promoted up to help the two men already in charge of the lines. His


    job entailed making sure all the parts were right, and shipped on time. Sometimes he


    had to run checks to do it.


    He had been working sixty hour weeks for a while, and could feel burnout arriving


    to take him away. He decided a couple of days away from the hustle and bustle would


    do him good.


    Camping had been something he had enjoyed as a boy before moving to the big city


    of New York. He had done some in the Barrens south of the city until he had earned


    his first promotion and moved west to California. Business had demanded that he


    give up his relaxation until he could leave crew chiefs in charge without having to


    look over their shoulders.


    Two days didn’t seem that much to ask of his crews. Saxon hoped he hadn’t made a


    mistake heading up into the woods to get away from it all.


    After getting off from the plant, Saxon had driven home and grabbed his pack and


    tent. He drove north after that. He arrived at his campground a few hours later.


    He had brought a cooler full of steaks. He had built a fire and placed a steak on a stick


    over the fire. He supposed he was sending a signal to the wildlife that good eating


    was being done, but he couldn’t do without that unless he wanted to eat cold steak.


    It wouldn’t be the first time he had eaten cold food, but this time he could choose to


    do without instead of having it taken away from him.


    He turned the steak slowly on the stake so it would cook evenly. He planned to catch


    some shuteye after eating. The next day he would hike around, read underneath a tree,


    maybe swim in the local pond. He had no idea what to do with most of Sunday, but


    at some point, he would have head home and get ready for work on Monday.


    He would probably leave from the camp at around dark. There wouldn’t be that many


    people on the road, and he should have a smooth sail down to his place.


    After work Monday meant laundry. He would have to take care of that after he went


    from the office.


    It felt good to be out on his own away from everything. Even after work, he still had


    a ton of paperwork to manage. He had set up a home office just to keep it in one place


    in his house. He had never thought that would be something to worry about when he


    had taken his promotion.


    He nodded when his steak looked ready to eat. He got a plate from his supplies and


    put the steak down on it. He stuck his stick in the fire before he hunted up a knife and


    fork to cut up his meal.


    He frowned as a streak of light appeared in the sky overhead while he ate. Where had


    that come from? He watched it for a few seconds, unsure of what he was seeing.


    He realized the streak was heading right for his camp site. He placed the plate next


    to the fire as he stood. He headed away from the camp, watching the thing turn into


    a glowing ball heading down on top of him like a cannonball.


    Saxon started running. He didn’t want to see a meteorite up close. He dove to try to


    get out of the impact zone. A pressure wave helped him by flinging him away from


    his camp site with a loud roar.


    Saxon picked himself up after taking a moment to make sure he was intact. His pants


    were on fire, but he was glad that he hadn’t hit a tree in the dark. He beat the small


    fires out on his pants. He kicked off his shoes. They were practically destroyed.


    He looked at his camp site. A crater sat where his fire should be. He didn’t see his


    tent, or any of his supplies. If they survived, they might have been blown clear like


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.he was. Small fires had been set around the pit. Some of the trees seemed to be on fire


    too.


    He had a fire extinguisher in his car down at the ranger station. He could go down


    there and get it and come back to put the fires out if he hurried.


    Frank went to the crater and looked down at the cooling pool in the ground. He


    frowned at the liquid. Where was the rest of the meteor? Could it have melted on


    impact.


    He didn’t believe that.


    He reached down and put his hand over the liquid. He was surprised to find that the


    air was cool. Shouldn’t it be burning hot? He frowned as he studied the glow.


    Flanagan would love to have something like this. He tinkered with stuff in his off


    time. Everyone knew that. This would be something he would be glad to have under


    a microscope to see if he could make more of whatever it was.


    Saxon thought maybe he could store the liquid in his canteen if he could find the


    metal flask in the remains of his camp.


    He went to straighten up so he could look for his canteen. He overbalanced and


    touched the liquid with his hand. He yanked his hand away as pain shot up through


    his arm. He spasmed on the ground as he tried to get the fire running up his arm under


    control.


    That was stupid. That was incredibly stupid.


    Saxon lay on the ground looking at the moonlight. The pain receded until he could


    think. He shook his head. He had to get back in the game and survive to tell people


    how he had been so stupid and clumsy.


    It might even get a big laugh out of his audience.


    He sat up and looked down at his hand to see how much damage the liquid had done


    to it. Three squares of black lines over a circle formed a tattoo on his palm. He


    frowned. What was that?


    He looked inside the crater. The liquid was gone. He shook his head. How was he


    going to prove what he saw now other than the still burning fires?


    He touched the squares with the index finger of his other hand. They lit up at the


    touch. He thought they felt warm too, but not excessively so.


    He pressed the circle.


    The tattoo turned into a circle with a line at the top. The line started moving


    counterclockwise along the circle.


    Saxon felt lighter. He looked down. He floated off the ground. He concentrated to


    keep from screaming. He spread his arms and spun around. He could feel jets of air


    at his back. He needed a mirror. His car had a sideview mirror. He could walk down


    and check out his back in the sideview.


    A red arrow appeared in his head. He realized the arrow indicated where his car sat


    in the lot at the edge of the camping ground. He took a step and he vaulted in the air.


    He closed his eyes as the jets on his back pushed him high over the trees.


    He spotted the small mountain rising to the north as he headed at a tangent away from


    his car. He twisted to turn his back toward the car. The jets obliged and he rocketed


    toward the paved lot.


    He was flying and he had it under control. Did he tell his boss about this? What


    would Flanagan do?


    He decided he needed to test it to see what else he could do. He didn’t know how


    long he could fly, if there was a visible effect, or how to use it beyond his own


    transportation.


    He spotted his car from the air, and realized his vision was much better while he was


    flying. He smiled. Now all he had to do was land beside the car, get the fire


    extinguisher, fly back to the camp site, and put out the fire. Then he could worry


    about the limits on his new ability.


    He brought himself up next to the driver’s door of the car. He shifted until he could


    get partial looks at both sides of his back in the driver’s mirror. He frowned at the two


    jets of air moving along his shirt. That was going to be hard to hide when he went


    back to work.


    Maybe he could explain things to Flanagan so he could find something else to do


    instead of flying around the factory.


    He would have to demonstrate the ability at the very least. That meant a flight back


    to New York.


    How did he get on a plane with two jets of force pushing against everything behind


    and below him?


    He decided he was worrying too much about something he needed to plan for and not


    enough about what was going on at his camp site. He floated to the back of the car


    and opened the trunk. He pulled out the extinguisher and closed the trunk.


    He needed to get back to his camp site. A red arrow appeared in the sky to mark


    where he had to go. He felt the jets kick on to lift him in the air. He angled toward the


    arrow while pulling the pin on the sprayer.


    He circled over the camp site for a few seconds before taking aim with the red metal


    sprayer and spraying foam everywhere. He concentrated his actions on the trees and


    worked in to the crater. He floated over the last fire for the seconds it took to put it


    out.


    He dropped the cannister when he was done. He looked over the destroyed camping


    gear. He was better off just burying it in the ground and buying new stuff. Even his


    cooler had been turned into shrapnel and the steaks inside were feeding the local


    wildlife that hadn’t run from the impact, and following wave of air.


    What did he do about it now?


    He didn’t have an entrenching tool to work with in his car. He would have to get a


    shovel come back and bury his wrecked gear. He didn’t think any store would be


    open at the moment. He would have to do it tomorrow.


    What did he do for the rest of the night?


    The jets cut off and he dropped to the ground. He looked at his hand. The three


    squares and circle were back. He realized the circle and line was a countdown clock.


    That governed how long his power was active.


    So he didn’t have to worry about flying and losing the power in the air. He could just


    look at his hand and it would tell him when the power was going to cut off and dump


    him to the ground.


    He felt his palm. It was cold to the touch. He frowned as he thought about that.