PHOENIX

𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝚂 𝙽𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙱𝚄𝚃 𝚂𝙸𝙻𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙵𝙸𝚅𝙴 𝙼𝙸𝙻𝙴𝚂. Phoenix started whispering songs to himself to compensate.

  "Your eyes, your eyes . . . make me realise . . . you're all there is . . . you're all that ever was . . . you're Jessie . . ."

  It didn't look like there was a Jessie anywhere, nor another set of eyes. No Mr Dream Man to emerge from the shadows like a star behind a cloud and say, It's all a nightmare, and then something wacky: Bahoobaaa! Had this actually been a bad dream, that line would have woken Phoenix up immediately. No question.

  But he had been walking, trudging, for what felt like hours, and his legs were really killing him. Once or twice he stopped to play around with his newfound power—it seemed he could summon electricity. Great amounts of it, at that.

  The problem came when he started thinking about what would happen if he were to, say, die. The paper didn't give much information about it, but he assumed he only had one shot in this world, one shot to save Alex and get out of there. Otherwise, what would be the point of this "game"?

   So, half expecting people to appear with their unique powers, as God put it, he skulked from building to building, studying the roadway, hoping—just hoping—they wouldn't.

  And his worries were well-placed. If there were thousands of other people with powers just as strong as his—and he thought his was pretty damn strong—then would he have to fight off the entire "playerbase"? How could he bring himself to kill someone? That was fucking insane!

  Back in his homeworld, if he remembered correctly, he'd witnessed a lot of murder and violence both in real life and on TV. His father worked for a news agency dealing particularly with those sorts of things, and so he was pretty much educated on every case shown to the public eye. And . . . God, they were terrible. Protests leading to absolute chaos, the unlawful executions of innocent bystanders, and even his own aunt getting shot down at a rally against hover-cars.

  Even in that world, Phoenix felt a constant state of angst, wondering when or if one of his loved ones would be next. Right now, he wondered the same thing. Would he be next?

  But maybe there was some good in this world. Maybe he would come across other newcomers so he wouldn't have to figure this crap out alone. If not, well, then he'd have to . . . God. He didn't want to think about that right now.

  This city seemed to go on forever. If Phoenix continued at this pace there was no way he'd live long enough to make it anywhere remotely near civilisation, let alone the Spiral. By the time the overcast clouds separated to unleash a sharp clearing of the afternoon sky, a scorching Middle Eastern heat had materialised. Taking off the silver jacket, which possessed deep vertical gashes, Phoenix wiped a pinprick of sweat from his forehead. Looking up to the right, he saw another construction building about twenty or so storeys high, home to cars and trucks and all sorts of vehicles, save for first level, which was mostly asphalt.

  Explains why there's no cars out. Place is a ghost town.

  Straight up ahead he saw the Spiral, and beyond it a ring composed of dark strands of space: stars, galaxies, and nebulae. Up around the corner of the parking building on the right, there was a yellow fire hydrant sitting alongside an empty bus station.

  "Thank God for that," he said, and although not particularly loud, his voice managed to bounce feverishly among the city walls.

  Ignoring this, he hurried over to the hydrant, dropped to one knee, and desperately tried turning the outlet. Nah, not a chance. That thing wasn't budging, and even if he hadn't been on an expedition for the last few hours, he wouldn't have had enough strength to rotate the metal handle.

  "God damn!"

  He punched the hydrant with full force and jumped back, expecting to feel the full effect of the pain. Instead, he experienced a minor twinge, nothing more. Surprised, he began storming towards the edge of the bus stop. Got about halfway there when he stopped, jerked his body back, flexed his forearm, and listened to the sound of electricity buzzing deep within his body. Seconds later a stroke of lightning bolted across the sidewalk and obliterated the fire hydrant. Out sprayed a raging fountain of water. It fired into the air uncontrollably and spread out into the street. An electric current twitched and sparked within the spill, but Phoenix hardly cared. He lunged into the water and drank as much as he possibly could. The feeling . . . It was sort of nice. He didn't get shocked or anything. Maybe God made him invulnerable to galvanism. Yeah, that would explain it. Made sense, too, considering that that was literally his power.

  He spent a good thirty seconds drinking the contents, stopping once or twice to catch his breath, when a whistle echoed high above the city. Phoenix snapped his head back, mouth agape, swallowing deep breaths. A stark shadow was crouched atop the parking building, gazing down at him. Phoenix squinted, stood up, backed away into the street, and shouted, "Hey!" with either hand cupped around the mouth.

  The sunlight piercing through the dark cloud separation narrowed, focusing a golden ray into Phoenix's eyes. He tried wiping it away. By the time he did, the figure disappeared.

  Confused, Phoenix threw on his jacket and looked around for the shadow. "Hey, where did you go?! PLEASE, I'M FRIENDLY!"

  And those last words—please, I'm friendly—were immediately regretted.

  Another whistle, this time louder, coming from the opposite side of the road. The figure sat perched on top of another edifice, this one however composed not of cars but instead empty lots.

  Did he just . . . teleport?

  Phoenix's eyes softened. He didn't necessarily want to find out.

  Then it happened: the shadow jumped from the building. A trail of darkness tailed behind it like the hem of a trench coat blowing in a hurricane. It made it about halfway down when a pocket of darkness formed and gobbled the figure in one gulp. It reappeared nanoseconds later, directly in front of Phoenix. The figure came rolling out and—

  WHACK!

  Phoenix flew back and struck the lower level of the parking building. He smashed through like a boulder, and great amounts of debris sprang into the air, chopping his surroundings in a strong cement smell. Looking up, feeling a slight pain journey throughout his body, which at the time surprised him, Phoenix coughed and inspected the figure. It was still in a punching position, but all its features were clear now. The figure wore silver-dyed hair, iridescent ski goggles, a bandanna that draped around the ears, and a scarf, slim and lengthy, that twisted down to the chest. A black trench coat dominated the entire area dividing the neck from the knees. Similarly dark cargo pants were worn, with horizontal cuts spread over the thigh area. The figure slowly straightened its posture and said in a deep voice, "I'm surprised you survived that. Maybe there's hope for you after all."

  The words were spoken evenly, not a stutter nor a hitch.

  Phoenix's wonder turned to shock. He let out a groan. "What?"

  The man chuckled. "Don't act so surprised. You know what you were getting into when you came here looking for me."

  "Looking for you?" Brow furled, Phoenix's mouth gaped into a mesmerised 'O'. "What the hell is going on?!"

  Another chuckle. "Perhaps the Castle sent you. Either way, I'm not about to let you live. I can't let them know where I am."

  "Listen, I don't know who the fuck you are or what the Castle is! I'm so confused and want to find my parents, that's all!" Phoenix raised his arms as if to be arrested by a police officer. They shook vigorously. A cold sweat laved down the back of his neck.

  "You're new here, hm?" The man dropped his thickly gloved fist and settled it next to his thigh.

  Phoenix nodded with beady eyes. "Yes," he stuttered. New here? "I seriously don't even know what's goin' on! I thought I was dreaming but—"

  "Quiet, would you?" Contemplative, he began walking towards Phoenix, not speaking a word. He stopped inches from the teenager. "What can you do?"

  "Huh?"

  "I saw you from the rooftops. You managed to destroy a fireplug like nothing. And the water, it was sparking. So . . . what can you do?" Tone sharpening, he raised a fist against Phoenix's cheek.

  Choked up, Phoenix said, "I-I can shoot luh-lightning." And then after swallowing deeply, "I can shoot lightning, sir." His voice was pained and yellow.

  The man stood back and laughed. "A weather-caster? Not possible. Your kind hasn't been around for ten years, so what can you really do? And I mean it, if you don't tell me, I'll have no problem killing you where you stand. Understood?"

  A tear slipped down Phoenix's cheek, creating a white line through the dirt. "But I-I'm serious!"

  And then, without delay, the man raised his fist, formed a dark hole the size of a truck wheel, and fell into it. The hole reappeared in the same place where he had been standing earlier when he knocked Phoenix into the wall. Rolling out, he yelled, "Show me then! Show me what you can do!"

  Phoenix, breathing heavily through his nose and feeling an intense heat swallow his body, trembled. This man looked dangerous. He could take him out in a second if he wanted to. And what could Phoenix do about it? Nothing. He couldn't fight! Shit, he had to think about this.

  The two shared a fervent silence once again. Eventually, the man said, "Hmph. Be that way then, I guess I'll have to beat it out of you." He lunged for Phoenix and struck him across the lower level of the building. The boy crashed into a nearby Volkswagen.

  Jesus Christ, this guy is strong!

  Quietly, Phoenix groaned, brushed himself off, and stood up. Again: only slight pain. And this made him think: Yeah, he's strong, but maybe I am, too. And what if he had been? What if this guy was all talk and nothing more than a weak fighter? Still, there wasn't time to think about this now. The bottom line was, Phoenix had to kill this guy or die trying. How? He hadn't the slightest idea, but—

  "—I have to try!" Frustrated, Phoenix hopped on top of the Volkswagen, looked around. The figure was behind him now, striding swiftly along the car roofs, heading right in his direction. Slowly, Phoenix flexed his forearm, closed his mouth, held his breath, and scowled. Electricity began sizzling on his skin, forming a blue aura at the end of a clenched fist.

  "You just don't go down, do you?" the man said, jumping across the final car and raising his arm to strike.

  ZAP!

  A bolt of lightning expelled from Phoenix's body and struck the man in the chest. Electricity sparked ceaselessly around his lanky frame, and in a second, shotgunned him across the bottom floor. An EMP went off and shattered all the windows to each vehicle in the surrounding perimeter, causing some to topple over. Whirling through the air, shattering pillars and fracturing hundreds of cars, the man rolled out into the street, bouncing recklessly like a puppet tossed across a room.

  Witnessing this clearly, Phoenix's eyes trailed down to his fist, then back up to the shadowy figure on the road. A twirl of smoke sliced the air in a burnt odour. And for a moment, the teen almost laughed. Something about the way that guy flew across the street was amusing. Still, he disciplined himself from doing so; there was no way he could afford to do it. Seeing the power he had just unleashed was exhilarating, yes, but he had to be smart. If he was, then he might just have a chance after all, and he would do anything to make sure the chance stayed strong.

  The man groaned slightly before bringing himself up to full height. He balled his fists and stared at Phoenix through all the gaps and destruction caused by such a powerful punch. And Phoenix returned this glare, still confused and worried for his own life. He couldn't die here, not now, not ever. He needed to see Alex, needed to see his parents, needed to escape this deathplace.

  The figure's hair was matted with bits of debris trickling onto the ground. A bead of blood swept down from a vertical gash sitting by the hairline and dripped loudly: Taptap . . . taptap . . . taptap . . .

  Over the man's shoulders, a dark pocket formed. "So you weren't lying, that's impressive." He spoke with a bit of respect but nonetheless oozed arrogance. "A real weather-caster, it would be an honour to kill you where you stand. But I'm not sure that will be entirely necessary."

  Phoenix thought for a second: What do you mean? Then said, "Listen, I don't want to fight you either. I just want to figure out what's going on and get the hell out of here."

  A laugh. "You really are new. Cute." He raised his arm and closed the dark pocket, then ripped off his goggles, scarf, and finally the bandanna. Tugging it down, he divulged a young and sharp facial structure of perhaps twenty. Very young. If it hadn't been for the slight bit of stubble embellishing the jaw, one might have thought he was a teenager just like Phoenix. And maybe he was, it was difficult to tell. "You're not gonna like this world if you expect to get out."

  Emotions quelled by terror sunk in. "What do you mean? That's the aim of the game, isn't it? To leave?" He hopped off the Volkswagen and began walking towards the man.

  "No," said the man, "the aim of the game is to 'reach the Spiral'. Understand the difference?"

  "What?" Phoenix offered him a furrowed brow. The skin bunched up easily into little waves.

  "God says nothing about leaving, only that there can be one winner. What happens to them, I have no idea. But if you think you're gonna end up back home where everything's normal, trust me, you won't. That bastard up there doesn't care enough." The man stuffed his left hand in his pocket. Phoenix expected him to pull something out but was pleasantly surprised when he didn't.

  "Then . . . why bother?" Phoenix steepled his fingers in the bushy jungle of his afro. "Wouldn't it be better to just stay here and live? Is that a possibility?"

  The man shook his head. "No," he said, and then gave a dramatic pause. "You either head to the Spiral, or die trying. There's a time limit, one that nobody knows the end-date to. If we all sit and build a new society like in our past lives, the world will vanish away to particles. I know because every day more and more land dissipates, and has been for the past decade. Vanishes into tiny particles, just like when we die; we are nothing more than particles."

  Confused, Phoenix asked, "What do you mean, more land dissipates?"

  "The world is designed on a horizontal plane. At one end, we have the far edge, at the other lies the Spiral. However, the world is so wide you're likely never gonna get to the sides, and if you do, there'll be a transparent wall waiting for you, or so the legend goes."

  Phoenix's thoughts became a little clearer. "So, if I understand you right, the world disappears little by little on one side and . . ."

  "Wears away at the land until eventually reaching the Spiral, correct." A moment of silence. He took a couple steps towards Phoenix before saying, "And you. You're lucky to start here. You have no idea how big this world is and how long it took for me to get here. I had to start all the way at the edge. That's a lot of time walking, and trust me, I've seen a lot. If you're planning on meeting your parents, I have some bad news for you: you probably never will."

  Phoenix cringed. "Never? But . . ."

  "You have no choice. They could be tens of thousands of miles away right now. And there's no point heading back. Always head forward."

  Phoenix sighed. What was he supposed to do now? Walk for years and years like this sad piece of work? Roll over and accept that? Or . . . just, well . . . there wasn't much else to do. Heading back was pointless, but wasn't reaching the Spiral, too? Honestly, Phoenix didn't know any more. He shook his head in defiance. "That can't be. What type of creator would do this?"

  The man smirked, looking down at the ground. He brought his head up again. "A really fucking cruel one, that's who. Oh, and one more thing." He pointed to the sky. "You see the sun?"

  Phoenix nodded. "Yeah . . . ?"

  "Well, that's not the sun. That's a lightbox. There's one every hundred miles. It will never be night here, so if you wanna sleep, you'll have to do it in daylight. God put them here to give players a different perception of time. The next section you journey to will be night, then day again, and so forth."

  Running his hands through his hair to quell the stress, Phoenix looked away and wearily said, "This place is a fucking nightmare!" His eyes electrified.

  "Your ability is highly superlative," the man said. "Which means there aren't many in the entire world that can challenge it. You should be thankful for that."

  "Really? Isn't that great?"

  The two shared another awkward silence. They might have talked a little more had Phoenix been more outgoing, but there wouldn't be much of a point at this rate. There wasn't a point to anything any more.

  After a moment, the man said, "I'm Aaron, also known as the Shadow." He covered his face with the bandanna and reattached the ski goggles. "You are . . . ?"

  Downcast, the teen let his hands fall to his sides. He dispensed a weary sigh. "Phoenix," he said. "Phoenix Newman . . ."