The Elementals

I wake up slowly for once, like a soft fog lifting from my mind. I’m comfortable, despite sleeping on the floor. I shut my eyes against the sun, trying to cling to the warm feeling all over me. Turning over, I pull the blanket over my shoulder tighter.

My eyes snap open. It’s not a blanket, it’s Coal’s arm, attached to mine by the handcuffs. The warmth is radiating from his chest, which my back is pressed against. I hold my breath so I don’t wake him up. I tell myself I’m being considerate, but the truth is I kind of like being this close to him.

It’s just not horrible is what I’m saying.

Another few content minutes pass before he shifts suddenly. “Are you awake, or are you still faking it?” Coal’s voice rumbles next to my ear.

I jump, startled, and clench my teeth as I feel his airy laugh past my face. “I am now.” I snap, rolling over and getting up.

I yank on the cuffs, pulling Coal up with me. We start to rummage through the small desk in the room, trying to find anything useful. I find a paper clip and cheer on the inside. It only takes a few seconds for me to unlock the cuffs, but the door is a different story.

“Over here.” Coal picks up a plastic card, a Visa. He walks to the door and slides the card into the slot between the lock and the frame. After a few moments of adjusting, the door clicks and he pushes it open. I follow after him as he makes his way through the rooms, searching for anything useful.

“How’d you do that?” I ask, impressed.

He shrugs modestly. “I don’t really know actually. It’s just a trick I learned at the orphanage in Hawaii.” He takes a right into a small kitchen. I watch curiously as he starts pulling out different ingredients from the cabinets.

“What’re you doing?” I ask as he takes out a bowl from a cabinet under the sink.

“Breakfast," he says simply.

“Brownies?” I note the cocoa powder.

“Is that a problem?”

“No.” I reply in the same short terms. “How do you know how much to put in?” I watch as he pours some sugar straight from the bag into the bowl absent mindedly, but then stops abruptly, as though the movements are ingrained in him.

“I never use measuring cups.” He shrugs. “Not even then.”

“So you made them a lot?” I sit on the counter.

“Yes.” He looks quizzically at me. “They’re just brownies.”

“I just think it’s cute you made them for the little kids.” I say, smiling. It’s rare to have Coal in a softer state like this. I try to savor the moment while it lasts.

“How did-” He sees my face and mutters, “You didn’t,” to himself. “It’s not cute," he protests.

“It’s adorable.” I tell him, then put my hand in his way as he ducks his head. “In a good way, stop being so sensitive!”

I reach over to pull out a pan from a cupboard and place it on the counter. Coal doesn’t look at me in this fake offended way, and snootily pours the batter in.

“Stop being dramatic." I shove him lightly. A laugh escapes him, and I go to open the oven.

“Aha,” He shakes a finger at me, hand bursting into flames. “No.”

His torching could use some work, like maybe doing things the conventional way, but within a few moments we have crispy, hot, surprisingly delicious brownies.

“These are good!” I exclaim around a mouthful of chocolate crumbs.

“Why do you sound shocked?” Coal asks, pulling the tray closer to him.

“I didn’t peg you as a chef.” I slowly slide it back.

“I have tons of hidden talents you don’t know about.” He says.

“Let me guess: you sing opera?”

“No.” He rolls his eyes and I swat him as he takes the last brownie.

I lean over him and grab the bowl, eating the batter off the spoon.

“Do you even know how unhealthy that is?” Coal asks, looking at me with faux disapproval.

“You’re just jealous that I got it first.”

Coal grins. “Spot on.” He grabs the bowl from me as I yelp in protest.

“Hey!” I reach back for it, but give up quickly, and hop off the counter.

Coal follows me outside, where we find a conveniently placed Land Rover. There were two when we got here yesterday, so I assume the others took the second one.

We both start towards the driver’s side and reach for the door handle. “Who has actually driven before?” I ask.

“Who crashed?” He replies, smirking, and jumps in.

I am never going to live that down.

Some genius left the keys in the passenger side seat, and Coal starts the engine. It purrs to life, unlike the van which coughed and sputtered.

“Um, where are we going?” I ask, suddenly seeing the problem.

“Would you like me to track vehicle number 5?” I jump as a robotic voice answers my question. The speech is lilted, accenting the word ‘vehicle’ in a weird way.

“What the heck is that?” I point to a screen blinking on in the middle of the dashboard.

“From Merriam Webster,” the voice drones. “That, pronoun: the person, thing, or idea indicated, mentioned, or understood from the situation.”

“Cool.” Coal says, and then taps the screen. “Where’s the other Land Rover?”

“Tracking vehicle number 5…” The voice says, and the screen shows a map with a stationary green arrow that I think represents us, and then a steadily moving red dot with a blinking ‘5’ over it.

I yelp as the Rover jumps backward.

“Take it out of reverse Coal.” I say, shoving him as he laughs. “You’re going to kill both of us.”

“Well at least I’ll die happy.” He says, and the car roars onto the dirt road off the base.

I try to sort out the meaning of the comment, but then Coal slams on the brakes at the end of the gravel. I slide forward, gripping the seat and then hang on for dear life as the car moves again.

“The speed limit is not a suggestion, you know!” I shout at him.

He goes from sixty miles per hour to about fifty-nine. “Better?”

“Not until you stop driving.”

“Yeah, so that’s not happening. Anything else?”

I don’t answer, instead fall off the seat as he takes a hairpin turn. I push my feet against the dashboard and my back against the seat to keep from getting tossed around too much, and then pray that I don’t get my body smashed by the airbag.

~

Despite the constant fear of dying at every stop sign or bend in the road, we reach the red dot by nightfall. It’s at an airport, one on the edges of a city. We park in an alley behind the lot, and search for the other Land Rover. Spotting it, I start to march angrily in the direction, but Coal stops me.

“If we attack now, it only makes us seem worse.” He says.

“But she’s there!” I hiss, pointing to the other Tide, who to my fury has Maple curled up against her.

Coal doesn’t budge. “We can’t do anything now; let’s just go back to the car.”

I send a last, lingering look at the others, wishing I was there with them. But I’ve been replaced by the Tide3000, and they don’t believe me. I follow Coal to the Rover, seething. She shouldn’t be there. I should. I should have Maple’s fingers wrapped around mine, not the clone. The door closes and then I just can’t be trapped inside anymore. I go for the handle, but Coal grabs my hand.

“Let go.” I say forcefully, fighting against him.

“No.” Coal replies with as much rock hardness. “You need to calm down, and sleep.”

“Is that your solution for everything?”

“Brownies too.”

I pretend to relax, and wait for Coal to drop my wrist. Seeing right through my bluff, he makes me meet his eyes.

“Chill,” he commands. “Just breathe.”

“Let go.”

“No.”

We stay there, at a stalemate. Slowly, my anger fades into despair. My arm drops limply and I slump back into the seat. “Why can’t they tell the difference?” I ask.

“Because they’re clones. They look, sound, and act like us. They were built to be us.” Coal answers gently.

“But they’re not us!” I sit up suddenly, and Coal pushes me back with his arm.

“Calm down.”

I struggle, but not for long. My eyes are closing with the warmth coming off him. With a final sigh, I sit back and try to at least look relaxed, waiting for the sun to come up.

~

Again, I wake up with the feeling of content. And again, it’s because I’m curled against Coal. I don’t want to get up. But then I remember why we’re here, and that there’s no time to relax.

“Coal, get up.” I say, nudging him gently.

Being the lazy, heavy thing he is, Coal mutters and doesn’t move. Feeling that I’ve given him a fair warning, I shove him off the seat. By some freak accident, his arm hits the handle and the door swings open, letting him fall to the pavement.

“Ah! What the heck?” he exclaims, fully awake, so I’ve accomplished my mission at least.

“Sorry.” I mumble, trying not to giggle.

“It’s fine,” he says sarcastically. “It’s always fun to be woken up by your gentle methods.”

I punch him. Thankfully, its early morning, so basically no people are out. After checking to see the other Land Rover empty, we approach the entrance to the airport. I drag Coal over against a Prius as people come streaming out of the revolving doors. Ducking behind cars, we avoid the small trickles of people, but I can see the busy movement of bodies behind the windows, and I accept the fact that we’re going to be seen.

“C’mon,” I motion for Coal to follow me. “And try not to set anything on fire.”

“When have I ever done that?” he asks, slightly defensively.

I roll my eyes, walking into the airport. The cacophony of noise is distracting, and I don’t know where to look. People in all different types of clothing bustle past carrying bright bags and talking on their cell phones. Most are too busy to notice two unattended teenagers with questionable motives, but we still attract some stares. I try to act as innocent as possible.

My eyes flick nervously to the side, and my heart stops as I see the others walking past on the other side of the room. I duck my head, trying to hide my face. Coal notices my attitude change, and stiffens as he sees them. I can only count eight though. The clones are missing. I flinch as a hand rests on my shoulder, unnaturally warm.

“You don’t know when to stay out of people’s business, do you?” Tide3000 asks, pacing to the front. I clench my teeth, not wanting to make a scene in front of all the impressionable citizens just trying to get on their flights.

Coal looks calm, though I can tell by his shadowed eyes that he’s trying not to blast the clone into ash. The fingers on my skin grow uncomfortably warm. I refrain from kicking the Coal clone, and stare at Tide3000.

“What are you going to do?” I ask, a challenge evident in my tone. “Drown me?”

“I don’t think so, no,” she grins at me. “I think a bonfire is a good idea.”

Coal’s entire body tenses, but I try to look in control so he doesn’t flip. “In front of thousands of people and security cameras?”

Tide3000 looks annoyed, but she starts leading me out a back exit to the runway. “Lucky for you, no, but when we get to Izila, there will be no need for you anymore.”

I stalk onto the plane they have chosen to clear out and ‘borrow’, and stride past the others, who are gawking, and to the luggage room. I hear Coal’s footsteps come to a stop next to me, but I refuse to look up. The door slams, and then I break down.

“Why can’t they see?” I ask hopelessly, leaning my head back against the wall. “What is wrong with them? I could tell, why can’t they?” My voice shakes, and it echoes the hollowness I feel inside. “We’re probably going into a trap.”

Coal settles down, next to me, but in this cautious way, as if he’s not sure how I’ll react. Something makes me turn to him, and I see his worried grey eyes trained on mine. There’s slight confusion too, like he wants to make me feel better but doesn’t really know how. It’s because I’m unpredictable, and confusing, and change moods in an instant. It’s because he cares about me and all I’ve done is push him away.

The same something makes me inch over to him, closing the gap between us, and I lean my head against his shoulder. His muscles tense in surprise, but then he relaxes and I know he’s smiling. It scares me a bit, the happy, warm feeling that envelopes me. There’s no excuse this time, neither of us is dying, and we’re no longer chained together. It’s purely that I wanted to be closer to him, because it makes me feel a little bit safer.

I need him, I really do.

“We’ll be fine Tide,” Coal says, “I promise.”

“Okay.” I whisper.