Flint poked the syrup-soaked waffle with his fork. His arduous relationship with food had gotten worse lately. As a growing boy, he was always hungry. However, when it came down to it, he hated eating. Something about the process of eating unsettled him. He would anticipate food with great enthusiasm; however, it was a battle when it arrived, and he had the low ground.

  He pushed his plate away after only a single waffle. Rachel frowned. She wore maroon medical scrubs in preparation for her shift at a local clinic.

  “How long has it been since you’ve had a real meal?” she asked.

  “Yesterday,” Flint answered. “I ate when I got here, remember?”

  “Aren’t teenage boys supposed to be bottomless pits?”

  Flint shrugged. “Yeah, but because of a rare genetic disorder, the bottomless pit is in my wallet instead of my stomach.”

  “A reckless spender, huh?” Rachel asked.

  “We always had money growing up,” Flint said. “Things at home were never great, but we were never poor. Both of my parents made a lot of money.”

  Rachel listened intently, hungry for more details.

  “Really?” she asked eagerly. “You’ve just told me more about your family than Jason ever has.”

  “Don’t blame him too hard,” Flint said. “There were parts of it that even I wish I could forget.”

  Tactfully, Rachel didn’t press for those details. “So what are your other sibling’s names?”

  “Dax is the baby,” Flint said. “Well, he’s ten, but he’s the youngest, so he’ll always be the baby. After him, it’s Carly; she’s the only girl.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Twelve, I think? Then it’s me, then Steve, he’s seventeen, then there’s a big jump between him and Jason.”

  “I thought there were six of you,” Rachel said.

  “There are; Brigham is the oldest.”

  “Oh, I assumed Jason was.”

  “No,” Flint said; “We hardly ever hear from Brigham; he was the only one to finish training with Dad. Now he’s a driver for some billionaire and too busy to check in.”

  “It seems like once they move out, your brothers struggle to stay in touch,” Rachel noticed.

  Flint darkened. “Brigham does visit or call from time to time. At least he doesn’t pretend like we don’t exist.”

  A light on the waffle iron beside Rachel lit up, signaling they were done. “I don’t suppose you’ll want some eggs?” she asked.

  “I’ll come back for them,” Flint assured her. “I just can’t eat very much at once.”

  Jason walked into the kitchen dressed for the day, looking up from an article on a tablet to glance out the window.

  “Mark.”

  The simple black A.I. Assistant device pulsed with a gentle white light.

  “Tell me about the disappearances where people disappear in a flash of light.”

  “According to Jericho Times, starting last November, people prominently based in the United States, Russia, western Africa, and several other eastern Asian countries have documented cases of unrelated people disappearing in flashes of yellow light. The cause and origin are still unknown,” Mark A.I. said with a refined British voice. “Is this the data you were looking for?”

  Jason frowned. “Yes.”

  Mark’s white light faded.

  Flint caught sight of the article Jason had been reading. It displayed several images of a circle of burnt markings on the ground. Some of the runic circles were seared on asphalt, while others were on dirt or in other odd places. The mark scourged the land whenever people disappeared.

  Flint was surprised to see the article. It seemed that Jason was actually looking into his claim. It was good to know that Jason hadn’t entirely written him off.

  “After colonizing three planets, we finally have an Alien invasion.” Jason sighed sarcastically.

  “It’s not that,” Flint said.

  Jason looked at him inquisitively. “What do you know?”

  “You interested in helping now?” Flint asked.

  “I didn’t say that,” Jason backtracked. “I’m just curious.”

  Flint pushed his chair back. “Jericho isn’t publishing as much as they know. I’m going to take a shower.”

  As Flint turned, he caught Jason glancing out the window again. He turned to see what Jason was looking at but only saw the porch and gravel driveway.

  “Are you waiting for someone?” Flint asked.

  Jason looked up. “Huh? Oh, no.”

  Flint dismissed Jason’s odd behavior and went upstairs.

  Stepping into the shower, Flint allowed himself to relax. Flint didn’t use food or sleep to deal with stress, but he frequently used all the water in the water heater. It was his guilty pleasure and getaway.

  He took in every second of steamy water. Flint didn’t know when the next time would be for him to have a hot shower, but he intended to enjoy it while he could. He let himself relax; after a month on the run, the hiss and the heat of the scalding water were the only things that mattered.

  Jason looked up from his coffee as tires crunched on gravel. A black and white police patrol car pulled into the driveway, and Rachel glanced up.

  “Jason!” she hissed, “Did you turn Flint in?”

  “No!” Jason insisted. “I just told them he was safe, and they said they would be here to check in on him. They told me that he could stay.”

  Rachel relaxed and nodded. “I don’t think he would understand. Let’s be careful how we tell him.”

  Jason nodded as two huge policemen got out. Both were tall, but one was bald, and the other looked young enough to be in high school. After a moment, two other men with plastic tags clipped to their white shirts got out.

  Grateful that Flint was still in the shower, Jason ran to get the door for them.

  “Hey, bruv, you Jason?” One of the CPS workers asked with a familiar British accent. It sounded like the man on the phone the previous night.

  “Yeah,” Jason confirmed. “Look, guys, Flint asked me not to tell anyone he was here. Can you be sure to make sure he knows you’re not here to take him away?”

  “Of course,” the British man smiled. “We deal with cases like this all the time.”

  Jason invited them in, and the man hesitated. “I’m Randy, by the way. This is my assistant, Andrew.”

  Flint killed the water long after his flesh had taken on a bright red vibrant glow. Drying off and getting changed, he brushed his teeth. Flint was usually particular about keeping his teeth clean. He hated getting cavities filled. It wasn’t until he shut off the tap that he heard a familiar voice from downstairs.

  Flint threw himself to the ground as Randy’s muttered British accent came from the living room. Flint cursed himself. How could he have gotten so careless? He got dressed and turned the shower back on, letting the hiss of water mask his sound as he slipped his shoes on, and then he eased the door open.

  “He’ll be out any time now,” Jason promised. “He’s been in there for almost an hour.”

  Randy looked up as the sound of the shower turned on again, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “What on earth is he doing?” Jason wondered out loud. “Thanks for being patient, guys.”

  “No problem,” one older, bald officer assured Jason, but Jason frowned when he realized the other social worker, Andrew, had circled the room while the others stood near the doorway.

  “Um. Can I help you?” Jason demanded, not liking the stranger creeping up on his blind spot.

  “What?” Andrew asked, jumping slightly. “Um, no. I’m just looking at your lovely home.” Then he stopped where he was.

  Jason looked to catch Andrew glancing at something on the ground. Flint’s backpack.

  “You know …” Jason started as he felt his heart pound a little heavier. “When I was on the phone with Doris, she said nothing about this necessary check.

  “Ah, right you are, bruv,” Randy said, “But Doris isn’t in charge of these checks; that’s my job.”

  “I hope Doris is feeling better.” Jason said, “She sounded awful on the phone.”

  “Actually, she’s coming out of the worst of it. She was feeling worse before.”

  “Really?” Jason asked, his eyes flickering from the badges on the policemen’s uniform to a distinct bulge on Andrew’s hip. “So you’re close with Doris?”

  “Well, not beyond work, really.”

  “That’s interesting,” Jason said to himself. He was sure of several things. The woman he talked to on the phone was definitely named Mandi, and she didn’t seem to be sick at all. Also, the policemen had real badges, but what cause did a lying social worker have to be armed? He felt confident they might be undercover police. But why would undercover cops show up with uniformed officers?

  What have you done, Flint? He groaned inwardly.

  “Excuse me,” Rachel said sternly as she crossed to Andrew and snatched Flint’s backpack from his hands. “That’s not yours!”

  Indeed, while Randy was talking to him, Andrew continued on his course and picked up the bag.

  The two social workers tensed as Rachel took it away.

  “Rachel,” Jason said cautiously, “Give them the bag.” Then, turning to Randy, he held up his hands defensively. “I don’t know what Flint may be involved in, but leave my wife and I out of it.”

  Randy looked away from Jason to see the figure stealing his way to the doorway. “Why, hello, Flint.”

  Flint lunged into the room and snagged his backpack away from the stunned Rachel. He spun and bolted out the back door, slamming it shut behind him.

  “Hey, kid! Stop!” the baby-faced cop cried as all four of them ran after him. The police could be Jericho agents in disguise, but Randy more likely had the cooperation of the local authorities.

  Flint didn’t turn but sprinted into the woods. As he ran, he glanced at the sun peeking over the mountains. North. He needed to head North. If he were going to find the jump point, he’d have to lose his pursuers by feigning East. The sharp contrast from the hot shower to the chilled morning stung for a second before he started to warm up again, heated by his sprint.

  Flint peeled left towards the rising sun, but he caught a glimpse of two uniforms between the trees, puffing as they followed.

  Despite being relatively small, running came as second nature to Flint. Running seemed to be his life. He had run from his mom and fled from Jericho agents for the past few months, and now he sprinted toward Ash and its secrets.

  Flint’s feet pounded against the cold ground. Grateful that he thought to put his shoes on, the weight of his backpack began to bear down on him. One mile could be too far to be chased, even for him.

  Pushing another hundred meters, Flint vaulted a fallen tree and threw himself on the ground. Striving to control his ragged breath, he looked back the way he came. He gained a long enough lead to lose sight of the cops, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. If anything, not knowing where they were put Flint more on edge.

  Flint forced slower, deeper breaths to slow his racing heart. He couldn’t afford to waste too much time being so close to the jump point. Flint felt his backpack for the familiar lump of the jumpstarter. After the assurance that it was there, he scanned his surroundings.

  Peering around the fallen tree, Flint saw the officers making their way further East. Perfect, so they lost his trail. A couple more moments, and he would be free to make his way North.

  A twig snapped to his left, and Flint bolted up wide-eyed.

  Jason stood only a few meters away with a look of panic that could only be associated with being caught.

  “Flint,” he said warningly as he puffed for air. Sweat dripped down his red face in the cold. “Turn yourself in. We’ll sort through whatever trouble you’re having through the proper channels. They aren’t going to take you away.”

  “You sold me out, Jason!” Flint spat, and in an instant, he was off again. This time, running from his brother. How did Jason get so close? Perdesh, he was silent. Apparently, he hadn’t forgotten all of Dad’s training.

  Jason cursed as he struggled to follow. He had put on a fair amount of weight since the last time Flint had seen him, and he paid for it in speed.

  After putting some distance between himself and his pursuers, Flint started to pace himself. He couldn’t keep on at a sprint for too long.

  “Come on,” Flint muttered to himself as he hurried off. “Where is it?”

  Flint ran until he was stopped by shallow, rushing water in a much deeper riverbed. He pulled off his backpack, his sweaty back chilling from the frosty air exposure. Flint dug into the side pocket and produced his tablet. He swiped and magnified the screen, zooming in on a pin on the other side of the river.

  Clicking the tablet off and sliding it into his pack, he rolled up his pant legs and slipped off his shoes. With a quick breath that acknowledged this would be unpleasant, he slipped down the bank into the icy plunge.

  The water didn’t go much higher than his knees. But his legs cramped and then grew numb. Flint took his time crossing the surging current. To fall would be to get wet, which could mean dying out in the wild.

  “Flint, stop!” Jason’s voice announced the arrival of Flint’s pursuers. Flint looked back. The officers ran ahead of his brother, Randy, and Andrew, who were close behind.

  Flint pushed on recklessly as he climbed the bank on the other side. He stumbled as his numb legs threw him off balance.

  “Stop!”

  “Stop, we’re not kidding!”

  Flint ignored the lawmen’s directives but continued barefoot. It had to be near.

  Flint searched the ground for signs.

  A stump, a twisted tree, a pair of chattering squirrels, a circular clearing in the shrubs.

  Yes! The opening was perfectly circular and deliberate. Flint changed directions and headed for the clearing.

  He cried as a sharp spike of pain ran up his leg as his foot caught on something. He allotted a glance as he slipped into the opening. Something had punctured his exposed foot. Blood dripped from a gaping hole in his heel.

  “No,” he gasped. He didn’t have time for this. He had to find the circle of runes. He heard Andrew curse.

  “He’s going for the jump point!”

  The words would probably be meaningless to Jason or the cops, but he had guessed correctly.

  Flint noticed the series of symbols burnt into the ground, circling him completely. Nothing seemed to be growing in the ring of mysterious runes. Even the branches of the trees that would have hung over it twisted and gnarled as though to avoid hovering over the circle, creating a perfect pillar with an eight-foot circumference where he could see the blue sky above. Someone or an animal had disappeared here at one point, leaving this burn mark as the only testament to what happened.

  Flint dug into his backpack and pulled out the jumpstarter. Judging the middle of the circle, he stuck the stem into the ground, leaving only the cone to point up. It didn’t do anything, and there was no indication that it was working. Flint frowned; according to the email, this was how it was supposed to function.

  “Get on the ground!” A cop barked as he broke the over bush and stepped into the circle. The officer must have been a rookie, as he looked younger than Jason.

  “Look, kid, we aren’t here to hurt you.” The older bald policeman held his palms up in a non-threatening way. “You’re hurt?” He pointed to Flint’s bloody foot.

  No. They couldn’t be in the circle. What if it went off with them inside? Flint ground his teeth as he reached into his bag. He didn’t want to do this, but he couldn’t be taken and couldn’t let them jump with him.

  He was so close to Dad.

  He drew a black pistol from his bag and pointed it at the officers. “Back! Out of the ring, or I shoot!”

  The officers’ demeanor changed entirely as they saw the weapon.

  “Put the gun down, kid!” The bald one screamed, leveling his weapon. “Drop it, or I will drop you.”

  “Take it easy, son,” the younger one cautioned as he became defensive.

  “Roy,” the older grunted as he pointed to the burn marks, obviously seeing them for the first time.

  “What’s the—” Officer Roy asked, stepping back

  “Get back!” Flint barked. “Back, or I shoot! I’m not playing!”

  The officers stepped out of the ring and behind cover, making themselves less of an easy target. Flint watched them like a hawk.

  “Don’t shoot!” Randy cried as he and Andrew finally caught up. “He’s just a kid, and you might hit the—” He stopped as he saw the jumpstarter planted in the ground and pulsing with light.

  “Flint,” Randy said. "We’re not bad guys. We don’t want to hurt you.”

  “What do you want, young man?” The bald officer asked, oblivious to the situation. “We can help you. There is no need for that. Why don’t you put the gun down?”

  “Why are you doing this, Flint?” Randy asked.

  “I need to find my dad.” Flint said, “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re not in your right mind. You’re sick; we can help,” the rookie, Roy, insisted, “Put the gun down.”

  “Shut up,” Flint barked. “Don’t you say a word. Just stay back there!”

  “Then you’ll put the gun down?”

  “Do you understand what you’re doing?” Randy asked, ignoring the officer.

  “If you’ll excuse us, sir, would you let us handle the situation?” the senior officer demanded.

  “Do you know what that is?” Randy asked the bald cop, pointing to the cone.

  The officer’s eyes widened, “Is that an explosive?” He asked as he shied further behind cover.

  “Much worse,” Randy assured him.

  “Come on, come on!” Flint cried desperately as the device showed no sign of action. “Dad!” he looked up to the sky but saw nothing. “Where are you? Don’t leave me!”

  Abandoned. Alone. Wrong. Miscalculated. Flint had put his faith in untrue things, and now here he was. Isolated, like always.

  “Put the gun down. Remember our deal.”

  “Arthur Vance, where are you?”

  Something stirred to the side, and Flint looked surprised as Jason broke from the brush and roared as he plowed into his younger brother.

  “How dare you point that weapon at the cops!” he snapped as he expertly wrestled the gun from Flint’s hands.

  “Um, guys!” Officer Roy stammered nervously.

  The two young men grappled in the dirt, ignoring the police. Brother on brother, this was a family affair.

  Flint squirmed, bit, and kicked. “Get off me!” he cried.

  “What’s happening?” the other cop cried in confusion.

  “Get out of there!” Roy stammered in fear.

  Andrew cried out, and Randy panicked. “Come back with as much lightice as you can carry!” He shouted.

  Flint and Jason looked up at the confused officers but were distracted by the bright rays of yellow light that beamed down from above, spotlighting them.

  The ground seemed to vibrate and grow warm with static energy.

  The officers cried out and fell back, surging deeper into the underbrush. The symbols began to burn gold, starting from the cone and finally catching onto the other runes in the dirt, igniting them with fire.

  Dirt flakes, twigs, and pebbles in the circle were released from gravity’s pull, and they began to drift up and around the Vances.

  “Move, Flint!” Jason hollered. “We need to—”

  CRACK!!!

  A bright flash of yellow light split the air, and a roar of wind ripped at the trees. With another crack of light, everything vanished. Both boys screamed as all their senses seemed to cry out in confusion. Twisting inside out, gold light streaked past on all sides. Then they were falling.

  CRACK!!!

  The boys slammed to the ground, gasping, but Randy, Andrew, and the officers were nowhere to be found.

  Thick overcast covered the sky above trees with fanned roots and actual branches bearing oddly long and flimsy needles.

  “What!” Jason choked.

  “I did it!” Flint gasped.

  “What was that?” Jason cried.

  They struggled to their feet and stumbled, disoriented. The mountain pine was gone, replaced by the new trees growing from cracked clay and sprouting hooded canopies,

  “The trees? The light? Officers? Was it raining before? We need to get back!” Jason cried in total discombobulation.

  “Jason!” Flint cut in. “I don’t think we’re in Idaho anymore.”

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