Excerpt: Unnatural Selection

An exerpt from Nehemiah's point of view. He and Sabra have just left the James Damon testing facility, and are fleeing to Eden, a rebellion group which operates a few days' journey away

There was always that part of him, no matter how small, that wanted throw his body into the fire, just to see what would happen. He could imagine it vividly in his head: his skin would crackle, turn black and peel away, exposing sinewy muscle and alabaster bones beneath. His ashes would pile like little mountains of physical smoke before settling, snug in the crevices of burnt wood.

In the morning, there might be another storm, and his ashes would turn into a paste until they mixed with the dirt. Next spring, maybe he would grow an oak or birch tree, which could stretch to the sky and bear witness to his story for all of eternity.

Or maybe, the wind would begin to blow, and instead of becoming a paste, he would fly, higher and higher, soaring through the leaves, leaving bits of himself wherever he passed. And, next to the fire, he would leave himself as a powder, so soft and fine, until he was made into an anthill, or carried off by a wild beast.

His forehead began to burn and he pulled back. He knew he was too close, but he couldn't help it. With every fiber of his being, he wanted to taste it, to feel it. He wanted to be it.

And in a way he was.

As he looked over at Sabra, breathing shallow, mouth parted, arms thrown, reckless, into the leaves, he smiled. He would be her fire, until one day, she didn't need him anymore. He would lead her to safety, and warm her when she was cold. He would hold a light to the darkness when she needed it, and quietly extinguish himself when she wanted to be alone. During the day, he would become a silent light, pale and inscrutable, and in the shadows, he would scare the away the rogue and rabid beasts.

But… what if he was the beast?

Nehemiah poked the fire with a crooked tree branch and sighed.

It didn't really matter.

He still wanted to be the fire.