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

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  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.