Saxon woke up in his bed. He stared at the ceiling. He went over the memory from

  the night before. He had flown across Nevada in ten minutes. Nothing human could

  do that.

  What had that meteor done to him? Could he still do it?

  He looked at the palm of his hand. The three squares and circle were there. He could

  still fly.

  Did he want to?

  He rolled to his feet and put his shoes on. He went and washed his face. He had

  planned to camp over the weekend and go to work in the morning. He could spend

  the day checking out what else he could do.

  He needed a place to do that. He couldn’t do anything weird around his house.

  He wondered if the company had a place he could use to practice. He couldn’t think

  of any place off the top of his head. Maybe he could fly back to the camp and practice

  there.

  He thought about that. He would need to pack a lunch. His flight ability would need

  to be fed.

  He decided the first thing he needed to do was get some breakfast. He could review

  what he knew while he ate. Then he could pack some breakfast. After that, he could

  take off without letting his neighbors know about his new ability.

  Should he call Flanagan and tell him what had happened? The boss was smart. He

  might be able to duplicate the meteor back east.

  Saxon decided against it. He didn’t want to be a guinea pig being poked in a lab

  somewhere. He would rather be out and about.

  If he ran into trouble, he would call his boss then. Flanagan would want to minimize

  any exposure to the company. Some anger would also be involved.

  He hoped if it got bad enough to call his boss, he would be alive at the end of it.

  Hopefully Flanagan wouldn’t laugh at him in disbelief.

  Saxon made a heavy breakfast. Flying burned up a lot of personal energy. He had to

  be ready for that. Loading up ahead of time seemed to be called for until he had a

  grasp on how much he actually had to eat.

  And if he really didn’t need that much, he could cut back.

  He ate in silence as he went over the night before. He had been struck by what he had

  thought was a meteor, but now he wasn’t so sure. His camping gear was wrecked and

  buried where no one could find it. He had flown home, back to camp, drove home,

  and then flew to Nevada. Maybe it had been a dream.

  He looked at his windows and noticed they were cracked.

  How had that happened? What had he done? How many windows had he broken with

  his experiments last night? He definitely needed to use his power away from others

  until he was sure what had happened.

  Had he accidentally killed someone activating his power and taking off? He pushed

  his plate away at the thought.

  Saxon decided that he was afraid to check on his neighbors to make sure they were

  all right. He leaned away from the table. He had never thought his ability would hurt

  anyone. What should he do?

  He decided the best thing he could do was go outside and check the neighborhood.

  Maybe only his windows had been broken. Then he could worry about his neighbors,

  and making sure they were all right.

  He wondered what had broken his windows. Maybe something in the way he moved

  through the air had done it. Maybe some kind of pressure wave went with his flight

  power.

  He thought about being a human sized rocket flying as fast as a bullet. Would that be

  enough to crack windows whenever he really took off?

  He hated that he broke his windows. They would be a pain to fix with his work hours.

  Saxon stepped out in his back yard. He noted his shovel leaning against the wall of

  the house. A spot of blasted ground marked where he had launched. He would have

  to remember that in the future. He walked around the back of the house.

  Every window in the back of the house had cracks running through them. He had

  been lucky none of them had been knocked out of the frames. Still he would have to

  replace all six of them. That was a big expense.

  “Hey, Frank!,” called Maury Chadwick from the yard next door. The older man

  waved a hand to indicate where he stood in his own yard. He wore his Sunday best

  for morning services. “Did you hear the booms last night?”

  “I got in late,” said Saxon. “What booms?”

  “There these big booms like close thunder,” said Maury. “I think there were two of

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  them. They woke me up.”

  “I didn’t hear anything,” said Saxon. He pointed at his windows. “My windows are

  broken. What about yours?”

  “They seem all right,” said Maury. “I’ll take a look at them when I get back.”

  “I have some things to take care of,” said Saxon. “If you hear any more booms, let me

  know.”

  “What do you think was going on?,” asked Maury.

  “I have no idea,” said Saxon.

  “If you get one, let me know,” said Maury. “I don’t like fireworks being shot off so

  close to the house.”

  “I’ll let you know if I see anything,” said Saxon. He waved at the man. Then he

  walked back into his house.

  Saxon walked to his kitchen table. He rubbed his face with his hands. He created

  those booms when he launched. How many windows had he broken shooting out of

  his neighborhood for his test runs?

  He shook his head. He could definitely fly faster than a speeding bullet on one of his

  long hauls. He doubted he could dodge one coming right at him.

  Could he dodge a bullet in midflight? How fast were his reflexes? Was this something

  he wanted to test out?

  He decided that he didn’t want to find out if he could catch a bullet in his hand, dodge

  a bullet, or outrun one in the air.

  Those kinds of tests were more trouble than what they were worth.

  And he didn’t like the thought that if his reflexes weren’t fast enough, he would catch

  a bullet for his pains.

  Saxon threw the rest of his cold breakfast away, washed the plate off, and set it in the

  plastic drying rack. He cleaned and dried the skillet before putting it on the stove. He

  put together two sandwiches, noting he didn’t have a lot left in his refrigerator. He

  was going to have shop when he got done for the day. He could do that.

  He looked at the palm of his hand. He had three buttons. All three together allowed

  him flight and a navigation system of sorts. He had three single pushes, and three

  double pushes. Once he had those down, he would know everything he could do.

  Then he could start thinking about testing limits.

  And he knew he couldn’t launch from his backyard any more. The sonic booms of his

  flight would tell everyone in the neighborhood who was breaking their windows as

  he headed out of town. He couldn’t afford to fix every broken window around him.

  He wrapped his sandwiches in paper and put them in his lunchbox. He went out to his

  car. He put the tin container on the floorboard on the passenger side before getting

  behind the wheel. He pulled out of his driveway and headed south to the company

  parking lot. That would be just as good a place to leave his car as any.

  He couldn’t leave his car at home because his neighbors would want to know why he

  wasn’t answering the door. He didn’t want to leave it in public view as he flew

  around. The lot would be empty, no one would be at the factory, and the asphalt

  would take his launch better than the grass in his backyard.

  The rest of the week the place would be going full blast and if he wanted to fly

  somewhere, he would have to find some other launch point away from people.

  Saxon pulled his car into a slot next to the building. He looked around as he got out.

  No one could see his car from the road as far as he could tell. He might be wrong. He

  shrugged. If someone saw it and reported it to the cops, he would deal with it when

  he got back from the camp site.

  He grabbed his lunch pail out of the car and walked out of sight from the main gate.

  He looked around to make sure he was alone. He pressed the three buttons for flight

  and launched into the air.

  He summoned the marker for his camp and rocketed north from Idaville. He thought

  he would touchdown in a couple of minutes. He spiraled down into the trees and

  pulling up into a hovering position. He checked the clock on the palm of his hand. He

  still had minutes before his flight wore off.

  He wondered why the power didn’t have an off switch. You would think that would

  be something installed to keep people from overusing the power and burning

  themselves out.

  He waited the time out, dropping down to the grass when the jets erupting from his

  back cut off. He smiled. What else could he do?

  It took Saxon a few hours to figure out each combination. Most of that was waiting

  for the power to wear off, and then for the buttons to get active again. He had a

  floating mode that wasn’t quite flight, but allowed him to move along solid surfaces

  without problems. He had a jet punch that allowed him to push things away from him

  as long as it wasn’t too heavy. When he combined the two buttons, he had a skiing

  effect and he could fling himself through the air at will. The third button just

  highlighted things for him. Combined with either of the other two, it gave him arrows

  of direction, and highlighted things he could shoot with his jet punch.

  He ate his two sandwiches and wished he had thought to bring something to drink.

  Experimenting was thirsty business. He smiled. He could fly down to the general

  store he had passed coming up to the park and get something to drink.

  He already knew he could fly the distance in the time he was given by each power

  activation. He also felt like his power wouldn’t go away unless he was hurt too much

  to use it. He didn’t want to test how tough he was by ramming something.

  That was just asking for some crippling injury.

  The last thing he wanted was to hurt himself and be taken to the hospital. He didn’t

  want any doctor probing his insides and wondering why his body was different from

  a normal human’s.

  Was his body different than a normal human’s?

  He realized he didn’t want to know.

  He shook his head at himself. He did all this testing, and now he was scared to have

  an x-ray and a blood test.

  He decided that normal medicine couldn’t tell him what had happened, and until it

  became enough of a science that it could read everything about him with a machine,

  he could do without any testing, or dissection.

  He had a general working knowledge of the basic effects of his talent. Now he needed

  a way to use it without causing any problems for himself.

  He couldn’t think of anything except for going overseas and doing spy runs over

  German territory. And when he thought of that, he couldn’t think of any way to

  present himself and his powers and keep his personal freedom from the government.

  The Department of War would want to know everything about him, and if they could

  duplicate his ability without keeping him around.

  He didn’t see living his life under the constant scrutiny of faceless men as being a net

  gain.

  He decided he needed to get that drink. Then he could use a bit more food. Then he

  had to pick up his car and head home and think about fixing his windows.

  He had never considered how fast he could be until he saw those cracks. Imagine

  doing that with just flying in the air.

  He activated his flight and headed out of the park. He realized it was better to pick

  up his car and get something to drink on the way home. There was no point stopping,

  waiting out his time limit, and then starting again when he could reach his car, wait

  until the time limit passed and drive the rest of the way home.

  At the very least, he could save himself money on gas flying back and forth to work.