1.1
10/30/2009
On the sprawling shrub-steppe of southern Washington, a pair of weathered leather boots scratched between the swaying blades of dune grass.
At the foot of a tree's stump, they stopped.
There, on the low wooden seat, the owner sat. Slowly, he breathed the dry air deep into his lungs, allowing his tired muscles to relax and the scrambled pains in his mind to unravel–one by one by one.
– – – – –
Bone Creek was planted on the opposite side of the Cascade Range, completely isolating it from the rest of the world.
It was no wonder that its existence had remained a mystery–no wonder that people believed there were only nine cities when the true number was ten.
The civilization had been built strategically with one primary goal in mind: harness the powers of the elements and create a society that could prosper, even in the face of the greatest dangers the world had to offer.
Bone Creek's surroundings were all the same shade of brown shrubland, but within the city itself, a few clumps of green thrived on the water that a winding river carried in. To their immediate west, the Cascades climbed into the sky. Only 10 miles southeast, the former city of Yakima simmered with power.
With direct access to such a variety of ecosystems, the leaders of Bone Creek were able to construct their ideal training strategy–the strategy that would force humans to become strong.
Holding the belief that the younger generation would soon become the leaders of their future, they started kids at the age of four. Regardless of gender, stature, interests, or personality, every single child entered the program.
At first, the only training was conducted in a classroom setting. The leaders weren't so foolish as to believe that a little kid should be taught how to use a weapon, so they respected the children's age and began with simple classes on survival skills and other fundamental abilities they believed everyone should have.
But elemental compatibility needs to be tested eventually, and at 10 years old, it is. By this point, physical training has begun, and based on those results and their elemental compatibility, roughly half the kids are cut from the program.
As they, girls and boys are separated, and the training intensifies. The process is highly scientific, and huge teams are devoted to elemental research and human compatibility, but perhaps the most genius part of the program is its structure.
Every year, a tournament is held. It consists of 100 participants, 25 from each year between 15 and 18. Because of the privileges and glory promised to its champions, nearly every child in training has their eyes set on the title. It's a massive event, requiring months of preparation just to organize the tournament grounds, and the city buzzes with enthusiasm at the same time every year: the final week of October, in which five days of competition results in a single winner.
On October 31, a champion is crowned.
– – – – –
For over three weeks, they had been searching. Not far from Portland, they had split into three groups and agreed on their respective search areas. They each agreed not to stray from course unless they found something definite, and they agreed to do everything in their power to secure a radio, all to ensure that they would be able to meet up again in the case of failure.
But one group had found a definite trail. For too many long, exhausting days to count, they'd been following it.
But their efforts were more than worth it–they struck gold.
Sasha's mouth dropped open in shock, but his voice was overtaken by a coughing fit of dry air.
After a few seconds of unintelligible spluttering, he wheezed, "D-do you see that?!"
He pointed across the parched brown earth and the air that shimmered with heat, eyes wide and heart racing.
His impossible fantasy had become reality; there was another city–an unknown #10. There in the distance, human life existed.
Yumi and Corvus saw it too. Straining their eyes, they could even see people moving about, carrying out whatever strange business must have been happening down there.
It had to be strange, Sasha thought, because what kind of madman would intentionally isolate themselves from society in a world that was already teetering on the brink of destruction? In a way, every single citizen down in that city could be considered a rebel.
Sasha had been rendered frozen, but a clear voice re-melted him.
"Come on, Sasha."
Yumi and Corvus had already started down the slope that led to the city, and she looked back at him with big eyes.
"Uh- Y-yeah. I'm coming."
Sasha took his place next to her, and together, they approached a low wire fence that drew a tight circle around the collection of wooden houses.
"Uh, Corvus?" Sasha said hesitantly, still too afraid to even look Corvus in the eyes. "I, uh… I think you should put the gun down somewhere because we might look… threatening."
Corvus obliged without speaking, tearing up a clump of dunegrass and sticking Sasha's gun beneath it. Corvus's gun had been snapped in two during the confrontation with Blake in Portland, so he'd been carrying Sasha's as a replacement.
Continuing closer to the wire barrier, they found themselves scrutinized by a group of children's faces pressed tightly against the fence.
"D'you think they're rogues?" one of them hissed.
"Probably. But they look real…" another whispered back.
The children stared at the approaching trio with great curiosity, unaware of the fact that those people outside the fence could actually see in.
"Hey! Guys!"
A woman, one of the kids' teachers at school, had spotted both them and the thing they were peering out at. She sprinted to the fence and practically dragged the kids away, casting a single glance over her shoulder at the mysterious strangers in the distance.
People went outside the fence on a daily basis in Bone Creek, but one look at Sasha, Yumi, and Corvus was enough to know that they didn't belong. Their clothes weren't right, and Corvus was far too tall.
Sasha exhaled a shaky breath.
"Hopefully they let us in," he murmured anxiously.
Meanwhile, the middle-aged teacher was dashing between buildings, wondering if rogues could really look so human-like.
In nearly 30 years of history, no outsiders had ever come across the hidden city of Bone Creek. In other words, to even consider that the trio of people outside the fence were living humans would be ridiculous.
The running woman leapt onto a doorstep and pounded on the door. 10 seconds later, it opened.
"huff–Skye! There are some–huff–unusual rogues outside!"
She clutched one hand to her chest and the other on the doorframe, exhausted but glad she was able to be of some use.
The woman on the other side of the doorway, Skye, retreated back into her house for a moment before emerging with a radio in hand.
"Where are they?"
"By the gate over there."
"Thanks, Macy," she said quickly, stepping around the panting teacher and out the door.
Skye walked with a tall, confident posture, her long maroon hair blowing in elegant waves behind her. She wore glasses made of sharp gunmetal and a matching steel watch.
"Odin," she said into the radio, "meet me at gate three."
"Got it," a voice fizzed in response.
Skye slipped the radio into the waist of her charcoal-gray jeans alongside her partially-tucked maroon sweater and strode off in the direction Macy had gestured.
The northwest? she pondered. I wonder if Macy's overreacting again.
But when she stepped around a house at the outermost edge of the city and gate number three came into view, she nearly slowed to a stop.
Three human figures were seated just outside the gate, legs crossed exactly how the four-year-olds sat to eat lunch.
They showed no signs of hostility; in fact, Skye got the impression that they were intentionally trying to appear to be harmless.
What on earth? she wondered. You were right, Macy–this is unusual.
She paused, deciding that it wouldn't hurt to wait for Odin before approaching the new arrivals. She was confident in her own strength, but she would always be wary of something she'd never seen before.
Odin arrived promptly some distance to her right, and she signaled him over. As he walked, he couldn't help but take several glances in the direction of the gate and the seated beings behind it.
Odin was a tall, solid man with a tight haircut and shave, his graying hair matching the color of his eyes. He was decked head to toe in light-brown tactical gear, camouflaged perfectly with the sprawling dry landscape.
"Hi, Odin," Skye greeted. "Thanks for coming quickly."
"Hello, Skye," he responded in a deep, dutiful tone. "What do you think about those creatures at the gate?"
"I think they're human," she replied. "Living humans."
Odin shot a brief glance in her direction.
"That same thought crossed my mind when I first saw them, but I couldn't accept it as reality. If they are human, this will be the first time, won't it?"
"Yeah," Skye affirmed. "I'm very interested to see what brings them here."
Skye and Odin walked right up to the wire gate and faced the three travelers, who were still seated in the grass, with curious expressions on their faces.
Skye was the first to speak.
"You three are human, right?"
One of the strangers opened his mouth to speak, but only a weak cough emerged from his lips. A girl to his right patted him on the back a few times, and he started over again.
"H-hello." Sasha bowed his head in greeting. "We don't mean any harm. We're here because… we think there's a chance of… war in the rest of the world, and we're looking for help to… try and stop it."
Skye raised her eyebrows. "Are you carrying any weapons?"
"Ah–no," Sasha replied, shaking his head.
"Then you can come in."
Skye placed her hand onto the lock securing the gate, which seemed to magically click open at just a touch of her fingertips.
"Skye," Odin whispered, leaning in close to her. "I feel uneasy about the two silent ones. Do you think we should get a reading before bringing them inside?"
"No," Skye replied with a shake of her head. "I'm confident they don't have bad intentions."
Odin nodded respectfully and stepped back as the gate swung open.