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

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

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.