Bones of the Land (chapter 2) (Patreon)

1992, Southern California, on the road north.

"How's it going up there?" John shook the communicator, trying to dispel the static. No luck. No answer. Shadowing his eyes, he looked towards the skies, trying to spot Sentinel.

Traveling with a flier had made him lazy, no two ways about it. It took him back to his childhood, sitting in the back of the bus, dozing off. He didn't have to worry; the driver would deliver him to school, bring him back again, take him wherever he wanted. Life had been so easy then. Travel had been a minor inconvenience, time put on hold as he was left with his thoughts, but it had been safe. Predictable. Even the traffic jams hadn't bothered him, though he imagined he would have felt different if he had been old enough to drive. It was a pleasant helplessness to be transported somewhere, and it had done little to prepare him for what would happen. He'd always be grateful to Bernard for that, even though he had come to realize that the man hadn't been the best role model. 

"Looking clear." The communicator's crackling nearly made him jump. "Sit tight. I'm coming in."

"Will be waiting," he replied, pulling the goggles down. Even if Sentinel played it safe and landed up the road, the dust and ash would still play havoc with visibility. 

He adjusted his mask, looking around the desolate valley. Sand. Dust. Rocks. Some sage clinging to the steep hillsides, but no taller vegetation. Might as well make sure the bikes were okay. Though Sentinel learned to be more careful, she had blown them off their kickstands more than once. A few scrapes weren't the end of the world, but he was more reliant on them than she was. You had to respect the tools that allowed you to stay alive.

Closing his eyes, he let his awareness sink into the surrounding dirt. It had taken years of practice to be in control of what he did and not react reflexively, but he still had a hard time finding the words to explain what he felt when he let go. You weren't aware of the skeleton inside your body; it was there, existing, supportive. Not interacted with. It was the same with the bones of the land that surrounded him. 

Heavy. Hard. Immutable. Its sheer mass dwarfed him, frightened him enough that he didn't dare to delve too deep. Instead, he stuck to fragments detached from the whole, rocks, stones, far heavier than he could lift with his muscles alone. They were as light as styrofoam as he cajoled them with his mind, rolling, floating, building an improvised windbreak around himself and the bikes. Once he detached and opened his eyes, they settled heavily like mountains. It took some adjustment to stabilize the wall, just in time for the wind to arrive. A sudden downburst, sand abrasive enough to strip skin from bones. And then, just as suddenly, it was gone, and the skies were clear once more.

"You need to be more careful." John straightened his back, dismantling the rocky windbreak, sending the stones back to the side of the road like a flock of concrete sheep. Sentinel looked on in amusement.

"Looks like you've taken care of it." She shrugged, pushing her own goggles to her forehead. "If I landed behind the hill, it would be a ten-minute hike back, and you know how much I bitch about sand in my boots."

"I do," he admitted, clearing the last rubble from the road. "Did you see anything interesting?"

"Got some trouble ahead." She hunched down, drawing in the soft, ashy sand that now carpeted the road. "Big crack in the ground a couple of miles up, just when it opens up into the valley. Think there was a faultline there that slipped, no use trying to go around it. The terrain here's atrocious."

"I guess that's why we haven't seen any traffic." John looked down at the sketch. They were traveling slowly, partly because he stopped to fix what damage he could on the way. If they had a functioning road between San Diego and Los Diablos, it would help a lot. The I5 was a wreck, so the I15 was their best bet.

He hadn't gone this way when he had made his way south; he had tried to take the direct route along the coastline. The I5 had looked inviting on the maps he had, but between the quake, the rockslides, and the tsunami, it had been a painful trek. He had to go offroad more than once, using paths accessible only because of his growing powers. There was no repairing that road, not for a single man, no matter how powerful.

"Doesn't look worse than the last rockslide you cleared." Sentinel interrupted his musings, which was good because they rarely ended up in good places. "You want to have a go at it?" 

"Might as well. Did you get a look at Temecula?"

"Yeah. The city looks a mess, but there are people in the valley. Too much green not to be agriculture. There's water there, so that makes sense."

"Huh. Farmers. Any sign of fortifications or defenses?"

"Not that I could see, but I didn't exactly drop down low enough to say hi. Not looking to get shot at again, those ruins could hide anything."

"I know what you mean." She was a good scout but sometimes missed the signs he knew to look for. Signs of people. Dangerous people. He pulled out his worn map, scanning the area. "We need to get through the valley to get to Corona, then we can cut through the hills to Los Diablos. The old 91 is our closest entry point."

"You're the boss. I've never been to Los Diablos."

"I only passed through." John folded up the map, putting it back in its soft casing. Who knew when he could find a new one?

"Still more than me. You say there are people there?" She put on her helmet, kicking her bike into gear.

"Yeah. Lots. Not as friendly a place as San Diego, though." He had left some friends behind and gained some enemies. "No Thunderhead to keep the peace." He still wasn't sure how to feel about what had happened, so he revved his bike and sped ahead, leaving Sentinel's reply fading in the wind.

How was he supposed to cope with the fact that someone had gone into his head and adjusted things to their liking? Would he even have noticed if it was something small? Had it happened before? It made him feel small and helpless, crawling out of another wreckage into a world that had changed around him. He wasn't a kid anymore, he was supposed to be able to handle shit like this, and yet he couldn't bring himself to talk to Sentinel about it. She was a fellow victim; she might have some insights.

And yet, he kept his mouth shut. Don't show weakness. People will tear your throat out just because they can. He didn't think Bernard was wrong when he said that, not exactly. But he also didn't think that was a healthy way to think. He was trying to be different, not rely on size and fear to make people obey him. When they encountered people, he hid his tattoos beneath a mask rather than display them proudly. His leather jacket had been stripped of symbols and designs, carefully neutral. Just like he was trying to be.

Making things better. Thunderhead hadn't been wrong about that. Maybe that was what made it so hard to swallow. Maybe...

He screeched to a halt, grateful that Sentinel had already slowed down. The steep slopes on either side had shed rocks and stones down on the roadway, and while they had passed many smaller rockfalls, this one was big enough that he had to do something about it. Sure, they might be able to get around it on a bike, but cars or trucks would have problems. Problems he could fix.

"What?" Sentinel asked, pushing up her visor. 

"Sit back and have a breather. I'm going to clear this up." He pulled off the helmet, goggles, and mask. He needed fresh air on his face. Thinking about what had happened had left him covered in a cold sweat. "Where was the break in the road?"

"Not far up ahead, once we exit into the valley."

"There was another exit back there, right?" What had the sign said? He couldn't remember. Too caught up in his own thoughts, a fly lamenting his fate while the spider was moving in.

"Not functional. Rockfall there too, and the crevice goes past both roads. If we're gonna clean something, might as well make it the big one."

"We?" He took a drink of water, watching her crack her knuckles.

"You're making me drive the long way there, might as well sign on to your infrastructure development project. As long as I don't have to wear a hi-vis vest."

"Fine, then make sure there's nobody up ahead. I don't want people to get hurt."

"Sure thing." She pulled down her goggles, and John quickly did the same as she took off.

Distraction. He needed that. Get his frustration out. First, he led the bikes off the road and into the ditch, making sure to lay them down so they would be less of a target for the coming wind. Once their transport was as secure as he could make them, he turned his attention to the blocked road.

There were three big blocks half-buried in the rubble, might as well start with those. A deep breath, flexing his shoulders, readying himself to MOVE. It was exhilarating, though his heart beat faster than it should as the rocks started to move, connected to him with an awareness that never ceased to fascinate him. Breathe. Push. Roll. He could feel the stone as if it was his own body, conforming to his wishes. One block pushed to the side, he felt out of breath as he braced himself and moved against the second. Like working out with only his own body as resistance, pushups on his fingertips, dust, and metal in his mouth. When Sentinel came back, he was breathing heavily, downing water as if he had been as parched as the land.

"Nobody around, nothing here for people. It's a dead-end, not much sightseeing to do."

"Good." He coughed, putting his mask back on. "How much can your winds lift?"

"Dunno," she admitted. "But rocks are not aerodynamic."

"Dirt and sand are. If I shift the rocks, do you think you can shift the rest?"

"I can certainly try." She cracked her knuckles. "Been a while since I let loose. You'd better stand behind me, though."

"I need to move some more rocks first. If you can give me some wind to clear the dust, we can work from there?"

"Sure. I can play this by ear. We don't want to cause another landslide."

"Good point. Let me check." John made his way over to the hillside, falling to his knees in the dust. Contact helped with reading, so he buried his hands in the dirt, trying to breathe with the land.

Steady. Heavy. Everything felt solid and secure. It had been a new development when he traveled the I5 south, stopping for a break only to realize that the entire roadway was two breaths and a small shake from collapsing. He had felt breathless anticipation in the surrounding ground, a sense of tension more suited to a bent branch than resting soil. He had got out of there fast, and to test his theory, he had put the smallest pressure on the resting slope. The resulting landslide hand sent half a mile of road plummeting into the ocean, something he would have felt bad about, except at least now he knew nobody was on it when it fell.

He felt none of the same restlessness here; things had already settled into a stable configuration. New pressure could build, but it would take a larger quake or heavy rainstorm to change the status quo. It should be safe for them to work.

"Anything?" Sentinel had started building pressure. He could feel the shifting atmospheric conditions in his joints, like the air before a thunderstorm.

"Looks steady, but try to focus on the road."

"Yeah, yeah, pinpoint accuracy with a tornado. You don't ask for much, do you?"

"I wasn't asking for a tornado," he mused. "Can you create one?"

"Maybe if the weather's right," she admitted. "Not here. Wind will have to do."

"Have you?" He was curious; so far, he'd only seen dust devils and one terrifying fire tornado. The thought that a human could create a monster like that... what had they become? Something more suited to this world, the cynical voice at the back of his head told him.

"Not a big one. Small vortices are easy, just like smoke rings. The bigger things you need to build large to sustain themselves, and if there's no atmospheric fuel, I need to provide it." She shrugged as if she was unsure if she would have the stamina to.

"Well, if you can clear the smaller debris, that's good enough for me." Dirt and dust muffled everything, even his senses. Technically he supposed he should be able to control the sand and the dust, but it was like scooping water with a sieve. Couldn't get a grip.

"Will do." She stood in front of him, arms out as he sat down, cross-legged on the ground, making sure to put on his mask. 

He could feel the winds tear down the valley, dust, and debris pelting his back. They weren't the focus, but as Sentinel tugged and pushed the air in front of her, new air got sucked in to fill the gap. That's why he was reluctant to work with bedrock, tug at one end, and something might shift miles down the line. Stones though... stones he could do.

As the wind increased in speed, he ushered the larger stones to the sides as they were freed from the surrounding dirt, then urged the smaller ones into the air so they could easily be swept aside by the strong winds. It was easier for him; he only had to make them twitch enough to overcome the friction. As soon as they were airborne, the winds were strong enough to blow them off the road. 

Finally, they had cleared a gap large enough for vehicles to pass through comfortably, and Sentinel let the winds die down. Even without her continual effort, it was still windier than it had been. 

"There," he muttered, pulling off his mask so the wind could cool his sweaty face.

"Not bad." Sentinel coughed, spitting dust on the roadway. She rarely used a mask, claiming that her powers protected her from breathing the noxious dust and ash. John wasn't sure he believed her, but it was her decision.

"Here." He got to his feet, offering her some water which she gratefully took. "Did a good deed there."

"Yeah, yeah." She walked over to her bike, struggling with the weight to get it upright and back on the road. John didn't offer to help. He had quickly learned that was what she hated most of all.

"Not sure what we can do about the crevice, though." He got his own bike back on the road as well. "Though I suppose I could fill it up with enough time and material."

"Can't you just zip it back up again?" She didn't bother to put on her helmet. Apparently, it wasn't a long drive. 

"That's not how it works." He shook his head, and before she could ask why, he revved his bike and went to have a look.

---

Sentinel had been right. As the hills split apart to reveal the valley beyond, the road was interrupted by a deep crevice in the ground. It wasn't very wide, maybe ten, fifteen feet depending on where you measured. One side a foot or two higher than the other, the road shifted a few feet sideways. If he had to hazard a guess, he thought it must be a decade or so old, maybe from the Big One, maybe from one of the many aftershocks. It had probably been deeper and with sharper edges originally but had widened over time as the sides collapsed, filling in the bottom with a thick layer of dirt and ashes. It wasn't as deep as he had thought, but he thought he spotted signs of erosion on the sides. Perhaps it filled with rainwater occasionally, which would mean it wouldn't just be as easy as filling it with rocks and hoping it would stick. Maybe they needed an actual bridge. Hopefully, the people in the valley ahead would be willing to help with that.

"Want me to..?" Sentinel made a wave with her hand, indicating the other side.

"You do not fly our bikes across." John had let her fly them both once, and it was not an experience he wanted to repeat. Flying was terrifying, but it was the landings that worried him. His bruises would heal, but they didn't have access to a shop to repair any damage to the bikes.

"Fine." She shrugged. "Just thought I'd offer. You look tired."

"I'll be fine." He turned around, walking back towards the hills, carefully selecting a large enough boulder. Grunting with the effort, he tugged it towards the crevice, mostly floating, occasionally dragging the heavy rock behind him.

He refused to stop for a breather as he reached the crevice. Instead, he let the rock roll over the side, leaving it hovering in the air.

"You want me to get on?" Sentinel gave him a reluctantly impressed look, and he nodded wordlessly. 

Thankfully she obeyed fast, holding her bike steady as she balanced on the rock, trusting him to bring them across safely. John did his best to move the rock smoothly, but it still bumped into the other side, and she suppressed a surprised yelp before pushing the bike off. Once it was secure, they repeated the process with John's bike, and finally, he carried himself across before gently letting the boulder rest at the bottom of the crevice.

"Breathe." Sentinel clapped his back, and John realized he hadn't. Not for a while. He felt lightheaded as he sucked in air, his body trying to adjust to being flesh and bone once more.

"Getting... better..." he gasped, willing his heart to slow down, trying to ignore the pebbles bouncing into the crevice every time it beat. Breathe. Calm. 

"Pretty damn impressive if you ask me." Sentinel hadn't noticed. Instead, she dug around in her pack for one of their precious chocolate bars, tossing him half. San Diego was close enough to civilization that Mexican chocolate was, if not a staple, at least readily available.

"Thanks." He bit down, the sweetness of the creamy chocolate a nostalgic memory, though he knew the main purpose was to get some sugar in his system.

That they shared, their need to eat after major expenditures of power. He didn't claim to understand why, but he supposed it was the same reason their coach had always made sure they had snacks and drinks readily available during halftime. Maybe they'd get lucky in town and be able to get a hot meal without having to cook it themselves. 

They'd know soon enough.

---

"Don't move." The voice was loud enough to be heard clearly, and John politely raised his hands. 

They were taking a chance here, with him going into town alone while Sentinel keeping watch from the skies. His body armor might be able to stop a lucky bullet, but not a well-armed one. His hope was that people who took the time to farm and clean up their surroundings would be less likely to open fire on a lone stranger.

"My gun's on my bike," John said, hands raised high in the air. "I'm not here to make trouble, just passing through."

"You alone?" Another male voice, slightly off to the side. Crossfire, a good position for them, less so for him. But the ruined buildings lining the road leading towards the field were concrete, and concrete was almost as easy to manipulate as stone.

"No, I've got a companion, but she's hanging back to see what kind of reception I get." 

"Depends on how obedient you are. Get off that bike, keep your hands up."

"Alright." John obeyed, making sure to move slowly enough not to be threatening. "We're from San Diego, traveling north. We've got important news that I think your community might be interested in."

"I doubt it. We blocked the roads for a reason." 

"Oh." John bit his lip; he didn't like the sound of that. "But you would want to hear this. Can we talk?"

"Step away from the bike," the first voice ordered. "Alvarez, search the bike and him for weapons."

"Just make sure you don't pop me by mistake." A man gingerly stepped out into the open, short, broad, and tanned, the heavy black mustache giving him a look of permanent worry.

"I'll behave," John assured, remaining still as he was patted down. He'd predicted this might happen and had stashed both his handgun and rifle on the bike, in plain sight. Alvarez grabbed both, then stepped back.

"He's clean." Alvarez retreated back to the wall, taking cover but remaining in sight. "Had a communicator though, could be a scout."

"It's to keep in contact with my partner," John said, though he knew Alvarez had a point. Back when he had still been with Bernard's gang, they had used tactics like this. Send in someone nonthreatening to scout the place, then signal back whether there was something worth stealing. He had been used for that early on, before his growth spurt and tattoos. It had left a sour taste in his mouth every time, and though he knew it was a risk, he had lied to Bernard about possible loot on more than one occasion. Maybe that's why they stopped sending him in; perhaps Barnard had suspected he had a soft heart.

"Call her in," the first voice said. "Then we can talk."

"Promise not to get spooked." It was a risk, making this call. It could end badly. But it was also the best way to show they were not a threat, by revealing what kind of damage they could have done if they wanted to.

"No weapons," Alvarez said. "And be careful with the communicator."

"Understood." John slowly raised the communicator. "Sentinel? Prepare to land on my position, but be gentle. Our hosts are skittish."

"Understood," came the curt reply.

"Might want to hold on to your hats," John suggested as he felt the winds kicking up.

"Why..?" Alvarez started but fell silent, mouth agape as Sentinel dropped down from the skies in a controlled fall.

John understood the feeling; he still got it every time. The instinctive reaction of fascinated terror, watching someone plummet to their death. Few people could look away, it was a gruesome spectacle, and by the time Sentinel called up winds to buffet her into a rough but serviceable three-point landing, he knew he had them hooked.

"Gentlemen," he said, voice raised as Sentinel remained wrapped in winds. "Meet Sentinel, one of the heroes protecting San Diego. I'm Mount Hood." A theatrical name, but it helped with authority.

"Oh great," the first voice sounded less than excited, but the person it belonged to finally stepped out from behind the wall. An older, dark-skinned man with military bearing. "Heroes," he grunted, but kept his rifle lowered. "That figures."

---

Being invited to sit down for dinner was good progress, but John knew everyone was still cautious around them. Temecula was a thriving community for these parts, which was a welcome surprise. The outskirts of the valley had been all ruined buildings and ash, but further east, the farms were inhabited. Had they left the outskirts deserted to deter visitors? It made sense. John doubted they would have bothered to come here if Sentinel hadn't spotted the settlement from above, and not many had the means to navigate the blocked roads.

The fact that they had cleared the way had not been met with pleased looks, and only Sentinel's promise that they could just as easily block it once they left had calmed emotions somewhat. Enough to get them dinner with what he assumed was Alvarez's family. The dining room was large enough to seat them all, thick walls protecting from the worst heat. It had made John self-conscious; the room felt too homely for him not to feel like an intruder. They had to squeeze in at the table; Alvarez and the other man, who had introduced himself as Juan Gutiérrez, as well as four children of various ages, made the table more cramped than usual. John was acutely aware of his wide shoulders, even when he tried to make himself as small as possible.

"Aren't you going to take your mask off?" One of the kids had been staring at John the whole time, awed by his size and exotic appearance. 

"That wouldn't be a good idea," John started, unsure how to continue. How did you explain that revealing his face would blow any chance they had of convincing people that they were not raiders out of the water?

"He's got a secret identity," Sentinel filled in, gesturing with a piece of bread. "Got to keep his face hidden."

"You don't?"

"I don't have a secret identity," Sentinel said with a wink. "I'm Sentinel all the time. There's nobody else."

"True." John knew that the adults listened as intently as the kids. It was a question that had been on all their minds. "I don't even know her name."

"You do," Sentinel snapped, a hint of temper showing. "It's Sentinel."

"When are you going to move on?" Alvarez shushed the child, who reluctantly sat back and continued eating.

"That depends," Sentinel said, looking at John. "We're headed to Los Diablos, but we're not on a schedule."

"And you're sure what you told us was correct? About the government pulling out?" Juan looked like he had spent the entire meal trying to digest the information.

"Yes." John put the cutlery down, wishing he could adjust the mask. With it pulled up, the fabric bunched painfully around his nose. "That's one of the reasons why we were clearing up the road. If we're left on our own, nobody else is going to fix our problems. And once word gets out, I bet people will start to move in again."

"And we who already live here?" Juan's voice was hard. "We blocked the access ways for a reason. You have no idea what kind of people are out there."

"I do." John felt his own voice go hard in return. "I lived out there. And I know the kind of people who'd be tempted by a state with no laws. Everyone willing to make a buck and not have the government look over their shoulder. We've got to be ready for that."

"Easy for you to say, you've got powers."

"But you have numbers. I saw the farmland; there must be hundreds of households here in the valley. If you would let us speak to your mayor..." Sentinel pleaded.

"I told you." Juan turned to her, giving John a chance to scratch his face without being watched. "We don't have a mayor. We're a community."

"They still let you speak for them."

"Only because someone has to." Juan lowered his voice, suddenly aware of the children present. "And because I have experience with your kind."

"Our kind?" John could feel the seeds of a story he was curious about.

"Boosted. Outsiders." He shrugged. "Do-gooders. The question is if you're willing to do more than just clear roads we didn't ask for."

"Juan," Alvarez interrupted. "I don't think..."

"Who do you want taken care of?" Now everything made sense. John thought the discussion had been building towards something, and this was a logical conclusion. Utilizing what resources they had.

"The reason why we blocked the roads." Juan was smiling now, the pleased smile of finding someone who understood him. "Got some creepy fucker running around out west trying to start his own empire."

"We didn't see anything." Sentinel frowned.

"Think they moved north," Alvarez added, wiping the chin of the youngest one who had managed to get food everywhere but her mouth. "Las we heard, they were harassing Santa Ana. The 74 is blocked, luckily. There's another community near Lake Elsinore we're keeping in touch with."

"What makes them... creepy?" John kept his eyes on Juan, who looked uncomfortable.

"Not right to look at. Only saw them once. Left a mess behind too, but that was before I settled down here."

"I was afraid of that." John sighed, scratching at his stubble. "Passed through those parts a year or so back and heard the same rumors. Never saw anything, though, but I'm good at staying out of trouble." Thankfully nobody paid attention to Sentinel's snort.

"Easy to run away on a bike," Juan pointed out. "Harder when you've got house and home to defend."

"It's a good thing, though, having roots." Sentinel winked at one of the kids, sending a gentle breeze through the room to their delight. "And people like you are going to be needed in the future. You do realize that since this place now is outside of US jurisdiction, nobody can come around to claim that they own this land, right?"

"They... can't?" Alvarez blinked in surprise.

"Nothing to stop anybody else from taking it by force either," Juan muttered. "Though I suppose you've got a suggestion for that if I'm not reading you wrong."

"You've got an organization running here. Agriculture. Whatever companies move in here are going to want fresh produce. Be open to negotiations, and you might make some powerful friends."

"I believe that when I see it." Juan shook his head. "But you're right. Can't stop this, might as well try to ride the wave instead of drowning."

"Nice." She smiled brightly. "And we'll take care of your creepy problem. That way, you don't have to worry about leaving the roads open."

"You will?" Juan asked, frowning.

"We will?" John echoed at the same time. He had planned to do that from the moment his suspicions were confirmed, but he hadn't thought she would be that eager to go along with it.

That would make what he was planning a whole lot easier.