Alcatraz Versus the Knights of Crystallia

That only left my Talent. The wind whistled past me, and I extended my arms. I always wondered just what my Talent could break, if given the chance. Could I perhaps … I closed my eyes, gathering my power.

BREAK! I thought, shooting the power out of my arms and into the air.

Nothing happened.

I opened my eyes, terrified, as the waves rushed up at me. And rushed up at me. And rushed up at me. And … rushed up at me some more.

It sure is taking a long time for me to plunge to my death, I thought. I felt as if I were falling, yet the nearby waves didn’t seem to be getting any closer.

I turned, looking upward. There, falling toward me, was Grandpa Smedry, his tuxedo jacket flapping, a look of intense concentration on his face as he held his hand toward me, fingers extended.

He’s making me arrive late to my fall! I thought. On occasion I’d been able to make my Talent work at a distance, but it was difficult and unpredictable.

“Grandpa!” I yelled in excitement.

Right about that moment, he plowed into me face-first and both of us crashed into the ocean. The water was cold, and my exclamation of surprise quickly turned into a gurgle.

I burst from the water, sputtering. Fortunately the water was calm—if frigid—and the waves weren’t bad. I straightened my Lenses—which remarkably had remained on my face—and looked around for my grandfather, who came up a few seconds later, his mustache drooping and his wisps of white hair plastered to his otherwise bald head.

“Wasted Westerfelds!” he exclaimed. “That was exciting, eh, lad?”

I shivered in response.

“All right, prepare yourself,” Grandpa Smedry said. He looked surprisingly fatigued.

“For what?” I asked.

“I’m letting us arrive late to some of that fall, lad,” Grandpa Smedry said. “But I can’t make it go away entirely. And I don’t think I can bear it for long!”

“So, you mean that—” I cut off as it hit me. It was as if I’d landed in the ocean again, the air getting knocked out of my lungs. I slipped beneath the waters, disoriented and freezing, then forced myself to struggle back up toward the sparkling light. I burst into the air and took a gasping breath.

Then it hit me again. Grandpa Smedry had broken our plummet into small steps, but even those small steps were dangerous. As I sank again, I barely caught sight of my grandfather trying to stay afloat. He wasn’t doing any better than I was.

I felt useless—I should have been able to do something with my Talent. Everyone always told me that my ability to break things was powerful—and indeed I’d done some amazing things with it. But I still didn’t have the control that I envied in Grandpa Smedry or my cousins.

True, I’d only even been aware of my place as a Smedry for about four months. But it’s hard to not be down on yourself when you’re in the middle of drowning. So I did the sensible thing and went ahead and passed out.

When I awoke, I was—fortunately—not dead, though part of me wished I was. I hurt pretty much all over, as if I’d been stuffed inside a punching bag, which had then been put through a blender. I groaned, opening my eyes. A slender young woman knelt beside me. She had long silver hair and wore a militaristic uniform.

She looked angry. In other words, she looked just about like she always did. “You did that on purpose,” Bastille accused me.

I sat up, raising a hand to my head. “Yes, Bastille. I keep trying to get killed because it’s inconvenient for you.”

She eyed me. I could tell that a little piece of her did believe that we Smedrys got ourselves into trouble just to make her life difficult.

My jeans and shirt were still wet, and I lay in a puddle of salty seawater, so it probably hadn’t been very long since the fall. The sky was open above me, and to my right, Hawkwind stood on its one remaining leg, perched on a wall. I blinked, realizing that I was atop some kind of castle tower.

“Australia managed to get the Hawkwind down to grab you two out of the water,” Bastille said, answering my unasked question as she stood up. “We aren’t sure what caused the explosion. It came from one of the rooms—that’s all we know.”

I forced myself to my feet, looking over at the silimatic vehicle. The entire right side had blown out, exposing the rooms within. One of the wings was laced with cracks, and—as I’d so vividly discovered—a large chunk of the bird’s chest had fallen free.

My grandfather was sitting beside the tower’s railing, and he waved weakly as I looked over. The others were slowly trying to climb out of Hawkwind. The explosion had destroyed the boarding steps.

“I’ll go get help,” Bastille said. “Check on your grandfather, and try not to fall off the tower’s edge or anything while I’m gone.” With that she dashed down a set of steps into the tower.

I walked over to my grandfather. “You all right?”