How… His thoughts straining again, he racked his mind for why the car wouldn’t work. Checking his phone, no response. With a sigh of realization, he looked up at the grey, depressing sky, purple lightning flashing soundlessly to remind him of what humanity now faces. The only thing that came to mind was the worst-case scenario. Whatever this storm was and whatever it did to us, it likely destroyed all electrical devices on top of the elemental powers that just devastated humanity.

This couldn’t have been an isolated event, nowhere he would ever go would be the same again. Even so, he didn’t want to spend another second here. James grabbed his bags, AR15, and shoes and headed for the woods, not even glancing at the remains of what this cataclysm created.

Reaching the woods he took a moment to further breathe and clear his head. There was too much to process. He could feel his wrenched shoulder, cut lip, swollen cheek, but it was nothing compared to his mental fatigue. He leaned against a tree, letting himself slide to the ground, exhausted. His thoughts simmering on what just happened to him.

James knew learning to harness this energy would make him immensely powerful. The complete and utter devastation from earlier proved that. Tapping into that would ensure his survival. James would aim to achieve that quickly before other potential survivors became more powerful than him and attempted to control or even kill him.

It’s what his father would’ve wanted him to do. Get as powerful as he possibly can, and use it for the good of humanity as well as the advancement of his position in society. His father always encouraged being a good man above all else, but the pursuit of power wasn’t necessarily a malevolent ambition. After all, both maximum good and evil are done through positions of influence. James was encouraged to pursue something grand and noble, whatever it may be.

If enough people survived, James knew society would reform itself. It would be based on strength and ability to harness these new abilities. He needed a vision. His grand and noble pursuit.

James’ train of thought suddenly shifted to what his father always told him. “Always keep your strength and honor, son. Strength is for the ability to stay disciplined and accomplish what you set your mind to, and honor to make sure you set your mind on the noble course. Many great men in history lost their discipline, and empires fell. It is not only just for yourself to keep these principles but for your bloodline and humanity.” James remembered the first time his father spoke about this he never paused from his workout. Even though his clothes were soaked, he was out of breath, and pale as if he were about to pass out. He lived by his principles.

James didn’t know how to live up to his father and his expectations but he would do his best. The desperation he saw from those on the highway in their last moments ensured his resolve.

Families have been destroyed. Sons and daughters. Brothers and sisters. Mothers and fathers. All slaughtered right in front of their loved one's eyes. The memories of the mom freezing as she tried to reach her child, the man ripped apart by the wind, the man’s open lifeless eyes stabbed by spikes of dirt. James felt the tears in his eyes but gritted his teeth, he would not cry. He had to be strong. He had to channel this emotional energy somehow and James refused to cry. Standing up, he felt shaky and fragile, in defiance, he started to run.

Picking up speed, the shakiness of his legs kept his pace slow. This disobedience of his body reminded him of how powerless he was with the flame. This made anger shoot through him. Narrowing his eyes, he ran faster. Strength returned to his legs and he ran even faster. Each leg pounded against the ground flashing memories of the carnage, forcing more and more strength out of them as he ran even faster. It was the only thing keeping him sane.

Trees and limbs blurred around his vision as he dodged through the brush quicker than the memories could harass him. He gritted his teeth to prevent the tears. He felt hopeless, but it was a shadow of the anger he felt. Angry he couldn't do anything for them. Angry for those children. Angry for all the victims. They didn’t deserve this.

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James kept his pace, almost a sprint, for what seemed like hours to him. He was careful to remember landmarks even under the assault of those memories. When his lungs were raw and his legs numb, only then did he feel ready to stop. Slowing down to a walk, he found another tree to rest against, sliding down to sit. Rubbing his sore shoulder caused by the strike to his shoulder the chafing from the bags aggravated, he thought about what to do now, his mind finally quiet.

All he knew for certain was he would become strong for the sake of humanity's survival, and he recognized the great deal of power that was in this energy he now controlled. What he didn’t know, was how would he safely train it. It already threatened to consume him, mentors and teachers exist for a reason. He would have none.

James was certain there were other survivors. His curiosity about the state of society and what humanity was now facing in our cities was overwhelming. Beyond that, he felt a profound sense of loneliness. James has always felt lonely since the loss of his father, but James realized in the wake of this cataclysm that only now did he know true solitude. He felt compelled to seek out the remaining of humanity. What he saw on that despairing highway made him want to know, will we survive as a species after such a catastrophe?

James knew though that his curiosity was no good for anybody. He could easily be killed, and he had no means to help anybody without pointlessly risking himself. Determining that going to society would not be a good idea, he would exhaust the resources he had in his bag first and train his powers.

With nothing else major to worry about, he imagined he would be the most powerful by that point, and by balancing doing what he could for others and training further, he would quickly be at that point to help remove any oppressive power structures that form and force a fairer reconstruction of society.

Examining his bag he didn’t have much water, but he did have plenty of food. Before he wrapped himself into his training he would need to find a body of water. It would also serve as protection if the flame went out of control. He could use the river to help extinguish himself. Rested well enough and now with a sense of direction towards his future, he stood up in search of a body of water. Dusting himself off and stretching, he set off.

Not remembering any signs of water when he was noting landmarks, he decided to continue in the direction he was running. He was not far from Dahlonega, bodies of water were abundant in this area. He didn’t worry about not finding one. If he headed downhill where water likes to settle, it was only a matter of time.

Initially not seeing any downhill slopes in sight, just a forest with primarily pine, spruce, and oak trees, he continued in the same direction. It wasn’t a very dense forest, allowing him to scope out the area. He walked for a while until he spotted where the land had a slight downward slope to the left of where he was walking. With a smile, James was confident he was about to find water.

Walking briskly it wasn’t long before he found what he was looking for. He found a relatively large stream, not quite a river but it would be plenty for him. Setting down his bags against a tree he began to ponder how he should approach his training as safely as he could. He looked to his reservoir to see if anything had changed.

In childlike eagerness, he noticed inside his reservoir the crimson specks were even more plentiful than before. James assumed the reservoir naturally refilled with his breath, vacuuming so to speak out of the air whatever energy came down in this cosmic storm. It led him to wonder though, did the rapid breathing the run had caused refill it faster? Or would thoughtful, meditative breath refill it quicker? He’d need to experiment with that later.

He felt like a kid with a magnifying glass at an ant hill. His fear of the energy inside him had vanished. All that remained was a childlike fascination. James knew better though, he contained himself. Unrestrained curiosity was exactly what got kids in trouble, after all.

He wanted nothing more than to rest. It was a long day, but there was still daylight and he wouldn’t waste any time. If the world was competitive before, this was now the big leagues. Everything was at stake. He couldn’t be complacent. His rest would have to wait.

With a breath, James thought about the best way to go about training. First and foremost his control over his powers would need to be the first on his agenda. Strength without control gets people killed, he would not let that happen to him.

James’ thought process drifted to the memory of when he closed the pores, he recalled that each pore to the reservoir was open except the one that led to his head. He would need to learn to intuitively control the pores and specks to direct the energy to where it needs to go. However, he wasn’t going to mess with the one that led to his head. He didn’t want to accidentally scramble his brain. First, he would master his control before he attempted to open that one.

First and foremost, he would try and direct the flame to only his right, dominant hand. Later he would practice with his other. James reasoned that is what would be immediately practical to his survival, an easy way to start a flame. It wasn’t because it would look cool, that wasn’t it at all. Obviously.

In more seriousness, even if he got it to flow only through the channel that went through his arm, how would he get the flame to come only out of his hand? Could he control specifically where the flame would ignite along the channel? James was getting irritated with how much he didn’t know.

“Less thinking, more action,” James repeated out loud his father's mantra, getting himself ready to get started.