Heart of Fire | ONC 2020

7. blaze

"I'm fine! It doesn't even hurt too badly," Aera protested as Mason sent the young worker to get a first aid kit. 

"How did it happen?" Jackie asked.

"There was a car racing toward me, and someone pushed me out of the way. It's not a big deal considering what could have—"

"You appeared directly in front of a car?" Mason said with disbelief.

"What on Earth are you two talking about? Mason, you still have some explaining to do. Now," Jackie commanded, crossing her arms.

Mason took a deep breath and turned toward Jackie. He spoke quickly, with excitement in his voice, "You felt what happened when she lit the match, didn't you? You must have. For a split second, I felt something very powerful." He planted his index finger on the spike in the graph. "This happened. I don't know what the source or cause is, but for now, maybe the more important objective is to figure out how we can use this extraordinary gift . . . for good, of course."

Jackie stared at him, her expression unchanging.

"Aera has had some unexplained experiences in the past few days. As you can see, when she lights a match, there is a measurable . . . disturbance. She ends up somewhere else."

The gears in Aera's head were turning. "And I stay until the fire goes out, even if the match is used to light something else—I didn't return to Jackie's office until the cigar burned out completely."

Mason's face lit up. "Does it feel like the time that passes . . . wherever you go . . . is the same interval of time that would pass here for us, as the fire was burning? For me, it felt as if there was a blip in time between the cigar being lit and burning to my lips." He stopped, looking sheepish. "I apologize for endless questioning; It's just all very fascinating!"

"Yes, it does. My—"

The young man halted their conversation when he returned with the first aid kit. He eyed Aera's arm with his face contorted. 

Mason grabbed the kit and took it upon himself to clean up the wound. Aera wondered if he felt partly responsible for what had happened, considering he had pressured her into lighting the cigar.

There was a collective gasp when Aera, at Mason's instruction, rested her bloodied arm on a table under a bright lamp. He began to carefully apply an antiseptic. Aera had to grit her teeth to try to shut out the terrible stinging pain.

"Are you alright, Arin? You don't look so good," Jackie said to the young worker. It looked like all the blood had been drained from his face, and his skin was damp with sweat.

"If you're about to faint, you should lie down to get some blood back in your head," Mason said, peering at him over his glasses. Arin didn't respond, swaying slightly as if he couldn't keep his balance. "Catch him!" Mason shouted, as if he had foreseen what was about to happen. 

The table separated Mason and Aera from Arin. Jackie was the only one within reach of him. She lunged forward, her arms outstretched toward Arin as he fell to the ground. 

Her fingertips only grazed the fabric of his shirt. When he hit the ground, his head bounced off the metal tiled floor with a smack. The room was dead silent, and the air suddenly felt colder to Aera. She realized she was shivering. She no longer felt any pain in her arm. 

"Jackie, please call an ambulance," Mason said in a hushed tone. "And I . . . thank you for putting up with me." Jackie looked more shocked by his words more than she had by anything else during Aera's visit. She picked up a phone and started to dial. Seemingly in a hurry, Mason guided Aera to another room, but she caught a glimpse of Arin's limp, lightly twitching body on the way out. 

Mason finished cleaning and bandaging her arm, then said, "I think you've been through enough today. Are . . . are you coming home with me?" He paused. "You're welcome to."

Aera nodded, staring at the floor, her head spinning.

The sun was still out, perching on the horizon when they left the building. Aera was surprised by how little time had actually passed—underground, it was difficult to tell what time of day it really was. Numbers on a clock were no substitute for the cycles of the sun and the way they interacted with the body's physiology.

None of the faces of people passing by registered in Aera's mind. She walked while staring straight ahead, trying her best to think of nothing, yet the image of Arin's body kept flashing on her lids when she closed her eyes, making her cringe.

Soon, they arrived at Mason's apartment. They climbed the old, creaky staircase. Aera focused on studying the woodgrain patterns on the steps beneath her.

When they stepped through the threshold, the first thing Aera noticed was that Mason's son was back. When Aera met eyes with Jack again, she immediately realized it was he who Draven had so strikingly reminded her of. She walked in and collapsed on the couch across from him. 

"You haven't told me your last name." Aera spoke slowly.

"It's Caulfield," Jack said, flashing his joyful, childlike smile again. 

Aera's heart jumped. "Do you have a son, by chance?"

Jack looked at her. "Why do you ask?" There was an edge to his voice, and the smile was gone from his face just as quickly as it had appeared. 

"It was an innocent question, Jack. She didn't mean any harm," Mason interjected from the kitchen where he was cooking dinner.

"I'm sorry," Jack said flatly. He looked at Aera with inscrutable eyes. "I had a son. He was never born. My wife died in a car accident when she was pregnant."

"I'm so sorry." Aera felt tears forming in her eyes. The words lept from her throat before she had time to think about whether she should speak them: "What was his name?"

His irises no longer reminded Aera of the sky—they had frozen and turned to ice. "We were going to name him Draven."