Embers & Ice

Chapter One

Jack always hated the rain. He hated how wet it made his clothes, how it always seemed to slide like a slippery snake down his neck and against his back. Most of all, he hated that it soaked through his shoes and into his socks and made his feet eternally cold.

But as Jack stumbled out of the warehouse, bloodied, bruised and aching in every part of his body, he found he cared more about making it to a hospital before he passed out than he did about the downpour. As he limped towards the sidewalk and down a path that led to one of the more occupied areas of the suburb, Jack shot a glance back at the warehouse that towered above him. Rain washed over the roof and it looked almost like a scene from a horror movie. The Warehouse of Doom. That’d be a bestseller.

Making jokes seemed to be an easier way to deal with what Jack had just been through, and what he’d discovered about himself.

He had a power. A real, slightly confusing power. Some kind of… destruction. Destruction of objects. Hey, that could be useful, he thought. I could get a job as a demolisher. I’d make a ton of money in the trading business. Or maybe the President would hire me as a bodyguard. I’d kick all kinds of ass with this power.

Jack distracted himself as he stumbled about in the rain, letting every fantasy he’d ever had come to life inside his mind. He could feel more blood oozing from the slash in his ribs as he walked.

Half of his thoughts were on the pain, but he also worried about Hunter. She had been in terrible shape after he fell off the rack and freed himself, but she changed. She softened. It was something in the rain that turned the fire off, and she just gave up. But had Joshua killed her? Was she safe, alive even?

A part of Jack wanted to go back and help her. She needed back up in case the psycho Iceman tried to kill her again. But she seemed capable, and she wanted him gone, wanted him safe. He needed to respect that.

So the next thing to do would be to contact Clare somehow. He wasn’t at all looking forward to explaining to her why he’d been missing for a week and why he was so beat up. But Clare was his only family and he loved her more than anyone. She was his only chance at survival. So Jack searched through the rain for a payphone.

Once he’d limped a few blocks, the rain stopped and he came to a more developed area with houses and little cafés. He spotted the silver-blue box and limped hard towards it. Hurriedly fishing out quarters from his filthy pockets, Jack dialed home.

“Come on Clare, please pick up!” He drummed his fingers on the phone box and tapped his foot impatiently. If she didn’t pick up and he passed out, would anyone find him? How could he survive?

A dirty black van whooshed past him on the road and a great puddle of water splashed against the plastic wall of the payphone box, making him jump a mile in the air. Then, after a few rings, the message machine beeped.

Jack swore. In a spontaneous rush of anger, he threw his fist into the phone box. Power he didn’t know he had surged through him and immediately, the box exploded. Jack was blown back by a burst of sparks and smoke, landing painfully on the sidewalk. He coughed and winced and felt dizzy again as he peered up at the phone box. It looked as if it had been run over, smoke climbing up into the dark night sky.

Once more, Jack sat on the wet sidewalk, amazed at his own abilities. That was, until he became so consumed by pain and exhaustion that he just couldn’t stay awake anymore. Finally he collapsed, wondering just for a split second where he would wake up. Praying it was back at his apartment with Clare by his side, he fell into darkness.