Breeze Corinth (Book 1): Sky Shatter (2 page)

“Ladies and gentleman, how are we doing today?” The crowd went wild with enthusiastic cheers. He gestured toward Breeze. “My friend here just had a technical malfunction with his jet pack. But hey, no matter! It happens to the best of us.” He swept a hand toward his aerocraft and the crowd laughed in sympathetic agreement.

“Now, let’s give a big round of applause for Breeze, born right here in Conception. A local boy who gave it his best shot and that’s what really matters.” The crowd half-heartedly applauded as Buck tossed the microphone back to the announcer, then turned to Breeze. “Some things are best not to be demonstrated in front of others. A jet pack without fuel is one of them. Not sure what you were planning to do, but keeping it behind your father’s sheds may be the best place for it. Run along now.”

Buck turned and waved to the crowd, then headed back to his aerocraft.

Breeze stepped carefully back to the exit, trying his best to resist dumping the jet pack onto the arena floor and breaking out into a run. He felt ashamed and stupid. The best he could do now was to get out of here without falling flat on his face again.

Rumbling down the road on his old motorbike with the jet pack lashed to the back, Breeze headed for home. He was silhouetted against the slowly sinking sun as he traveled along the desolate highway. Waves of intense heat coming off the pavement made him appear as a mirage.

He turned off the crumbling road an onto a dirt pathway. Monstrous clouds of dust followed him as he bumped and rattled his way to a cluster of buildings. On either side of the road, huge mounds of twisted metal were spread out across the property.

One of the buildings was larger than the rest. Plumes of smoke rose from a row of tubular exhausts that lined its roof. Breeze pulled up to it and shut off the engine. He looked through the open bay doors at the bustling activity inside where he saw men dressed in silvery metallic suits and helmets commanding huge kettles that were suspended with chains from tracks running along the ceiling. They would bring the kettles to a stop, and with a wave of the hand, the kettles would upend themselves and pour hot liquid metal into molds. The molds would rattle down a conveyor and disappear into a tunnel destined for another part of the foundry, while the kettles glided back to their point of origin. There, a robotic arm would drop clumps of scrap metal into the kettle. The kettle would traverse to another station where hot liquid metal was poured into it. A flash of blue lighting, firing from a rod suspended from the ceiling, would strike the inside of the kettle causing a fountain of sparks to spew out. The foundrymen would guide the massive kettles to the mold station where once again they would upend themselves and pour out the contents.

Breeze leaned over his handlebars and peered inside looking for his father. Though all of the men were dressed the same, his father would be the easiest to spot being that he was a man of great height and build.

One of the foundrymen turned and waved at him. He was wearing a uniform with a blue insignia on his chest. He was the only one with such a marking. He turned to another foundryman and pointed to an approaching kettle. He nodded and took his position.

The man with the blue insignia walked over to Breeze and removed his helmet.

“Breeze, where have you been all day? We really could have used your help. We’ve been pretty busy processing the extra scrap your father purchased last week. We have a lot of molds to pour in there, you know.”

“Sorry Al, got caught up in something else.”

Alceron Beeks nodded as he peered around Breeze and toward the jet pack strapped snugly across the back of the bike. “Busy as in an air show, perhaps?”

Breeze waved him off. “Don’t say anything to my father, please. Where is he anyway?”

Alceron pointed back to the foundry. “He went to check on a conveyor system that jammed. Just wasn’t feeding enough scrap metal to the kettles. He’s under a lot of pressure lately. He’s really upped the production rate, don’t know if we can maintain this pace. We could really use you here.”

Breeze nodded. “Yeah, I know. I’ll be here tomorrow to help. I promise.” He fired up his bike and rumbled away.

Alceron watched him motor off down the path. He pulled off his gloves and slapped his thigh with them. “Things haven’t been the same since she’s been gone,” he muttered.

“Al! Alceron!” a deep and heavy voice called out from within the foundry.

Alceron turned to see a tall man striding over to him.

“Who was that? Was that my son?” the tall man asked.

“Yeah, Jacob that was him.”

“Did he say where he was all day? He was supposed to be here to help.” Jacob’s uniform was also a silvery metallic material, but with a red insignia on the chest. “I spent a good part of the morning covering up the holes he made out in the desert last night. Now I need him to help me in the foundry.”

Alceron pointed toward the house. “He said he was just riding around all day on his bike. You know teenagers, they can be moody and stuff.”

“Al, you’re a good friend and a hard worker, but a terrible liar.” Jacob strode past him and down the path that led to the ramshackle home he shared with his son.

Upon arriving, he saw Breeze’s old motorbike parked in front. He approached it while casting a critical eye over it. He reached out to touch the back of the bike, and then looked over at the garage attached to the house. He rushed and grabbed the handle on the garage door and opened it. Inside were some old motorbikes and a rusted hover truck. Jacob stepped inside and looked around. He spotted a row of metal lockers that spanned the back wall. He flung open the doors of each one, finding nothing of interest except for some hand tools and loose items until he reached the last door and gave the handle a turn. It wouldn’t budge. Jacob grunted as he fumbled for a set of keys attached to his belt. Finding the right one, he inserted the key with trembling hands and unlocked it. He hesitated for a moment as he gripped the handle. He took a deep breath and opened it.

He stepped back and ran his fingers through his hair, then reached in and grabbed the jet pack.

He placed it onto a work table across from the lockers. He flipped a switch on the wall that turned on an overhead light.

Jacob ran his hands over the exhaust cones of the pack. A look of surprise appeared as he realized they were cool to the touch. He leaned over to sniff but could not detect the smell of expended fuel.

He opened the fuel tank and peered inside. Empty.

He slammed his fists onto the table shaking the tools that were hanging on a pegboard above it.

He turned and stormed out of the garage with the jet pack in his hands. He marched down the rock strewn path that led to the shed on the outer edge of the property. He burst into it and threw the jet pack onto the workbench in the back, then turned and left, forgetting to close the door behind him.

He returned to the house and stomped up the stone stairs and through a heavy wooden door.

As the door closed behind him, he stopped to catch his breath while his hands trembled.

He headed down a hallway that stretched for several lengths. Hanging on its walls were pictures. Each one of them showed happy, smiling people celebrating birthday parties, or pictures of grandparents doting on grandchildren. There were also a cluster of old photos with pilots standing next to a variety of flying machines.

Jacob stopped at a door at the end of the hall. A picture hanging on it showed a young couple with a baby. Jacob stared at the face of the woman in the photo and grimaced. He opened the door.

He found Breeze sitting on the edge of his bed staring out the window. The fading sunlight cast a faint glow throughout the room.

Breeze was the first to speak. “Before you get mad, you need to know that nothing happened. I stood there like an idiot as everyone shouted and laughed at me. But nothing happened. I tried. I really did. But I just couldn’t fly.”

Jacob sat next to him. “Son, I understand what you were trying to accomplish. I understand your desire to stand out and be noticed, to be someone special. Trust me, you are special. But it’s the kind of special that can get other people hurt and you, dead. This flying business, these air shows…need to come to an end. Your place is here with me helping with the foundry and studying the art of metal craft. These gifts of yours are something you need to keep quiet about. You don’t want to attract attention to yourself.”

“I didn’t try to fly that way! I had the jet pack! I just couldn’t get it to work.” Breeze knew his father wasn’t buying his lies as he spoke.

Jacob shook his head. “I touched the exhaust nozzles. Cool to the touch, not even slightly warm. The worst part of all, not a single drop of fuel in the tank. It’s been empty for so long, the smell has faded away. Didn’t any of the officials at the show notice this? And if you did take off, wouldn’t they be curious to the lack of noise or exhaust? What were you planning on doing? Was this some sort of a big reveal to the world?”

Breeze leapt up. “I’m tired of everything! I don’t want to work in a scrap metal yard. I don’t even want to live out here in this hot and dusty desert. I hate everyone here. Ever since mom—”

“Your mother,” Jacob interrupted, “would agree with me. She would tell you the same thing. It’s just too dangerous.”

“She’s not here, so how would you know?” Breeze grabbed his leather jacket and stormed out of the room. Jacob listened to his son’s footsteps as he stomped down the hall and out the front door. He sighed as he watched him go past the bedroom window and down the path that led to the shed. He knew that Breeze spent a lot of time there. He knew exactly what he was up to but didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop. It broke his heart that he couldn’t do more for his son. He always thought if he could just keep him safe that would be good enough.

He got up and headed to the kitchen to prepare dinner. He set two places at the table and ate alone while waiting for Breeze to arrive. He never did.

Jacob wrapped Breeze’s plate of food in foil and left it in the oven to keep warm. He cleaned up the kitchen, dimmed the lights, then retired to his room.

He sat down on the bed and sighed wearily. His son had done the unthinkable. He went to the air show and almost exposed his secret for all to see. He had done his best, or so he thought, trying to protect him. Keeping him sheltered from those who would otherwise take him away to be used for their own nefarious purposes. It was getting to be too hard. Breeze was growing up. Jacob knew he couldn’t contain him anymore, he wasn’t an object to be put on a shelf. His son had hopes and dreams of his own, and Jacob knew he had to do what was best for him. His son had to leave.

He reached into his nightstand and withdrew a metallic disc. The surface was divided into twelve equal segments. Each segment contained a series of characters with a symbol. Every symbol on the disc shimmered in gold. The characters gleamed in silver. In the center of the disc was an image of a star.

Jacob touched each of the characters and symbols except the star in the center. Then, he waited.

He looked out the window. The light was quickly fading as the sun dipped below the mountain range in the distance. He looked down again at the disc.

With a trembling finger, he pushed the star in the center. It recessed with a scraping sound as a voice emanated from it.

“Jacob, it’s Oslo. We have known each other for a long time, longer than we care to admit. We have seen many things happen, and often not for the better. We can still make a difference, Jacob. It will take boldness on our part, and sacrifice.”

Have I not sacrificed enough?
Jacob thought as he glanced at a picture of his wife on the nightstand.

The message continued. “Jacob, we have talked long and often about your son and the gift he possesses. There is great potential within him. He cannot remain hidden forever. You know they will find him and take him away. We can both agree we don’t want him to suffer the same fate that befell your wife and first son.”

With those words, Jacob’s eyes filled with tears. He raised the disc high above his head and shook it violently as if he were wishing it silent. He regained his composure and brought the disc back down onto his lap.

Oslo’s voice continued. “You made a bargain with them, but to no surprise, they took more than what you had agreed to. I hate to say it my friend, but I warned you. There is no negotiating with them. They will come for Breeze eventually. Let us face reality; you don’t have the resources to protect him. Listen to my words Jacob. Send him to me. Let me protect him. I…we can train him. We can give him the knowledge he will need to survive. Contact me when you are ready. Hopefully, it will be soon. You are my friend. You know he will be safe with me, I promise. I have agents in position who have been watching him. They will escort him safely to me across the Bad Lands. I hope all is well with you.”

Jacob let the disc slip and fall onto the floor. He turned off the light on his nightstand and laid down.

He turned to look out the window. The night sky was filled with bright stars that shined like jewels. He could only imagine if his wife was among them. And his son.

He closed his eyes and prayed for a restful night without any dreams. Dreams were something he had his fill of.

Breeze stumbled down the dusty path that led to the shed. He saw the door was open, and found it to be odd, considering his father was pretty good at making sure it was closed and the lights turned off every night. He stepped inside and headed to the back where the overhead lights were still on. As he approached the work bench he saw his jet pack sitting atop it. He touched the exhaust cones and realized his father was right. Even if he did fly that afternoon, what would people say as to why there was no exhaust or noise? He didn’t think that far ahead. Then again, he never did. He picked up the jet pack and placed it back into the locker.

He stepped toward a counter that lined the back wall with a row of cabinets that hung above it. He opened one and grabbed a can, pulling back the plastic lid and removing a stack of old photos containing memories of a past long gone. He flipped through them one by one. Mom. Dad. Himself as a baby. All those photos had one thing in common. They were all smiling.