Two Weeks Later…
The lie settled deep into Carter’s bones. A persistent hum of inadequacy, the new soundtrack to his life.
It’s 7:00 AM. He’s back from his usual ten-mile run. His body slick with sweat, but his mind clearer than two weeks ago. His parents have been on vacation for a 10 days. The house felt empty. The silence amplified the hollowness inside him. He checks his phone before heading out for work. A message from his mom.
“Hey honey. Your father and I will be back from vacation today.”
“Okay, thanks,” he texts back. A small warmth spread through his chest.
He pulls on his jacket, gloves, and helmet. The familiar ritual, a small piece of stability. His world felt unsteady. He rides to work. The scenic route. He soaked in the early morning Southern California sun.
But today, the familiar landscape felt different. Warped. He noticed changes.
Billboards and street signs. Bits of words and letters that SHOULD normally be in Thaylic. They appeared in the same strange, alien script he saw during his unforgettable headache two weeks earlier.
The symbols flickered at the edge of his vision. A visual glitch in the fabric of reality.
“That’s strange…” he says, his voice muffled inside his helmet. “Was it always like that? I’ve driven past that sign for two years now.”
He shakes his head. Tries to clear it. He continues his ride. Makes it to the station. Jasmine and Diego have arrived early. They’re loading up the EMS truck.
“Sup, guys,” Carter says, greeting his co-workers.
“Hey, Carter,” Jasmine says.
“Sup,” Diego says. “Hey, I know you just got in, but we got a dispatch call. The other crews are already out.”
“No worries,” Carter replies. The familiar rush of professional duty pushed his unease aside.
“Yeah, it’s critical, a bad car accident,” Jasmine says.
“How far is it?” Carter asks.
“Nine minutes away,” Diego replies.
“I’m ready. Let’s go.”
Diego hops in the front. Starts up the EMS truck. Jasmine secures the stretcher and supplies. Confirms everything is loaded right. Carter does a quick check on the medication they have on hand.
“Oh, I already checked the medications, we got everything. Just grab the kit on the desk for me,” Jasmine says.
Carter grabs the kit. Hops in the back of the truck. Diego pulls out of the driveway. Heads to the scene of the accident. As they drive, Carter peeks through the windows of the truck.
The phenomenon he saw on his way to work has intensified. It’s no longer just bits and pieces of the strange language. The street signs. Normally written in the clean, sterile lines of Thaylic. They now appear entirely in the alien script.
That’s strange. Those symbols again… he thinks. A knot of confusion tightens in his gut.
“Hey Diego, Jasmine,” Carter says.
“Yeah, what’s up?” Diego replies, his eyes on the road.
“Do these signs look strange to you?” Carter asks, his voice hesitant.
“No, what do you mean?”
“I mean, they aren’t written in Thaylic. They look like a different language.”
“Carter, are you blind? Lol,” Diego says. His laugh echoes in the confined space of the truck. “They look like Thaylic. And there IS no other language. Even a five-year-old knows that.”
“Hey, are you okay?
“Are you sure you’ll be able to-” Jasmine says, her voice laced with concern. Carter cuts her off.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“Are you sure, man? Saying crazy stuff like more than one language, haha. We’re almost there, stay ready,” Diego says.
It’s odd. Carter knows what Diego said is true. There has only ever been one language. But it doesn’t change the fact that these strange letters keep showing up.
But…
The idea of only one language feels deeply wrong. A dissonant chord in reality.
Carter can’t understand why.
Five minutes later, Diego’s voice cuts through his thoughts. “We’re here… Holy shit, that’s bad.”
They arrive at a scene of pure chaos. A small sedan is flipped over.
In the middle of the street, its roof crushed against the asphalt. Flames erupt from the engine. A roaring, hungry beast claws at the sky.
Thick, black smoke billows upwards. A toxic plume that stings the eyes and throat.
The air is a thick, choking mixture of burning oil and melting plastic.
The heat is a physical presence.
A shimmering, invisible wave that warps the air, makes the world seem to tremble.
Worse, law enforcement and the fire department haven’t arrived.
They are the first responders.
“Shit, there’s no cops here yet,” Diego says, his voice tight with tension.
“I’ll call dispatch. Where are the victims?” Jasmine says.
Carter’s eyes scan the scene. His blood runs cold. He sees her. A woman, still inside the car.
“They’re inside… they’re still inside the car,” Carter replies, his voice barely a whisper. Diego and Jasmine are horrified. Their faces pale. The thought of what may have become of the victim’s bodies.
“Oh god… This is bad… This is really, really bad. What do we do? These flames are everywhere, we can’t go in.”
The heat of the flames intensifies. Every second is an eternity.
On the sidelines, a crowd of onlookers has gathered. Their phones held high, recording the tragedy for their social media feeds. One of them, a tall man in his forties with a scruffy beard and long, messy gray hair, watches the scene not with morbid curiosity, but with a strange, focused intensity.
Carter stares at the fire. His body trembling with primal fear. But his mind is a battlefield. That fear battles with a grim, unshakeable determination.
“I’ll get her,” Carter says.
“WHAT?! Are you insane? You’ll get caught up in it too!” Jasmine says.
“You can’t go, man, you’ll burn yourself alive,” Diego says.
“SO!? What do we do then? Do I just let her DIE? Do I stand here and do NOTHING?”
Carter’s voice is raw, laced with desperation that surprises even himself. He takes a step towards the flames. His body shaking. His conscience a relentless force pushing him forward.
“This is crazy! Come back!” Jasmine says.
Carter ignores her. Moves forward. The onlookers shout at him, their voices a chaotic chorus telling him to wait for the fire department.
Every bone and cell in his body screams at him to turn back, to flee the searing heat. But his only thought is to retrieve the woman before the flames consume her. She doesn’t have time to wait. She’ll be dead by then.
C’mon, just make it quick. Don’t think, JUST ACT!
He sprints toward the car. His lungs already burning from the thick, acrid smoke. He crouches near the flipped vehicle. Peers inside.
The woman is unconscious. But she isn’t alone. In the rear passenger seat, strapped into a small booster chair, is a baby. The sight is a gut punch.
A new layer of horror that threatens to paralyze him. Luckily, the baby’s mouth and nose are shielded by a blanket, now covered in a layer of black soot. The child is crying.
Its wails a thin, terrified sound, nearly lost in the roar of the fire.
Damn, there’s a baby here too? Shit, I can’t carry both.
The back-seat door is loose. Carter yanks it wide open. Quickly removes the seatbelt securing the booster seat, careful not to let the child hit the car’s roof.
He fumbles with the booster seat straps. His fingers clumsy with adrenaline.
The baby is free.
He scoops the child into his arms. Sprints away from the fire, back towards Jasmine and Diego. He hands the baby to Jasmine. Rips the blue EMS shirt he had wrapped around his face away. Gasps for air.
“Huuuuuuh! Ah, ah, ah…” he pants. His lungs screaming for oxygen.
“Oh my god, there was a baby in there?” Jasmine says, her voice trembling.
“Yeah. Ah, ah, it’s so hard to breathe,” Carter says.
“The mother?” Diego asks.
“She’s alive… I’m going back in,” Carter says.
“Wait…!” Jasmine and Diego reply at the same time.
The onlookers are shouting now. Their voices a mixture of awe and disbelief.
“He’s nuts! He saved the baby!”
The gray-haired man watches closely. Carter turns to go back into the flames a second time. Carter wraps the EMS shirt around his face again.
Sprints back to the flipped car. He reaches it. Sees that the flames are now much worse. Those few seconds he took to run back to his team may have been too long.
The woman is still unconscious. Carter pulls at the door handle. It’s locked. He can’t get to her.
“Tsk! Shit.”
The window isn’t fully sealed. There’s a gap about a fist’s width. With both hands, Carter attempts to forcefully slide the window open. It won’t budge. The car is a newer model. Thick glass and a good security lock.
“Shit, it’s not budging. She’ll die if I don’t get her out…” Carter says. “Okay, don’t panic. I have to try and break this window… But this glass is so thick. God damn it! If the fire department was here, they’d have an axe on their truck.
I can’t go back and ask Diego for help. There’s no more time. She’ll be burning by then.”
He removes the shirt from his face. Wraps it around his right fist.
He begins to violently punch the window of the flipped car. With his left hand gripping the car’s underside frame for leverage, he puts all his weight into the blows.
He punches, and punches, and punches. The window doesn’t crack. Not even a little.
I’m too weak. She’s gonna die! The thought is a cold, sharp blade of horror, pierces through his adrenaline-fueled haze.
“GOD DAMN IT! I’m useless, why can’t I…” Carter says as he hits the window again.
But, suddenly, a familiar pain resurges. The sharp, stabbing agony in his forehead. The one he felt two weeks earlier. Reappears in this exact moment. All hope seems lost.
“Gaaaah!! Why now, why does it hurt so much! I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS!!” Carter yells. He reels from the pain. Slams his fist on the car.
His eyes are closed. His hand pressed to his forehead.
He experiences the same phenomenon as before. Bits and pieces of that strange language appear in the darkness of his mind. The letters slowly manifest one by one.
Then they snap together all at once. In the all-black view of his mind, one word becomes clear.
“Shatter.”
Without thinking, Carter reaches his hands out toward the window of the burning car. His eyes are still closed. But he can see the word “Shatter” clear as day in his mind. He somehow understands its meaning. He imagines the window shattering.
The window begins to vibrate. At a high intensity, faster and faster. The entire flaming car starts to vibrate. A low hum grows into a deafening roar. Then, it happens. The window shatters into a thousand pieces.
Carter is stunned. His mind can’t process what just happened. But he doesn’t question it. He acts.
He removes the straps from the woman’s seat. Quickly but gently drags her out of the driver’s side window, makes sure to avoid the broken shards of glass on the pavement. The woman draped on his back and shoulders, he runs. They are now about fifteen feet away.
The flaming car explodes. A violent, concussive blast sends a wave of heat washing over them.
Carter makes it back to Jasmine and Diego. The woman, still unconscious and covered with black residue from the oil-fueled flames, is miraculously safe.
The onlookers are clapping and praising what they just saw. Their phones still recording.
The gray-haired man watches Carter. As he settles from the heroic act he just did, he whispers to himself, “Well done, kid.”
Carter, panting and coughing from the smoke, places the woman on the stretcher. Diego helps.
“I got her legs. Ready, one, two…”
“You freaking psycho! I can’t believe you did that,” Diego yells. He grabs Carter’s shoulders and shakes him.
“Ah, stop shaking me!” Carter says.
“I’m sorry, my bad.”
“That was amazing… But NEVER do that again! I thought you were going to die,” Jasmine says.
“Just relax for now, Superman. We’ll handle the care from here,” Diego replies.
Carter sits on the curb of the street. The EMS truck is parked there. He places his hands on the side, towards his back. Leans back and looks up at the sky. His mind is a chaotic swirl of thoughts and emotions.
“That was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done. I can’t believe I actually did that.”
“I mean… HOW did I actually do that?”
“I couldn’t break the window open…”
“But when I said that word…”
“Shatter…”
The Thaylic word for “shatter” flashes in his mind. A jumble of sterile, familiar symbols. But that’s not what he saw.
“It broke on its own.”
“I mean, it wasn’t Thaylic at all.”
“When I get back home, I need to look into this.”
Now that he has a second to think, he looks around. Finds that nothing is written in Thaylic anymore. On the way to the accident, it had only been a few signs. Now, everything around him has changed. The world is written in a language he has never seen before, yet somehow understands.
“This doesn’t make sense,” he thinks to himself.
Sirens in the distance grow louder. Finally, the police and fire departments arrive. Carter rejoins Jasmine and Diego. They speak to an older police officer. He then points at Carter. Carter approaches the group.
“Hey son, are you the one who got them out?” the officer asks.
“Yes, sir,” Carter replies.
“That’s quite impressive.”
“I’m sorry you had to do that. We had to leave another scene and rush to get here. I promise this usually doesn’t happen.”
“Take a breather… you’ve done more than enough for now.”
“Yeah, relax for now, we got this,” Diego says.
“You’re right, my throat is dry from inhaling all that smoke. I’ll be back. I’m running to the convenience store across the street real quick,” Carter says.
“No worries,” Diego says.
The gray-haired man is still watching. Carter approaches the convenience store. He moves towards him, and Carter takes notice.
The man’s appearance is disheveled. He wears a black button-down overcoat over a plain white shirt.
Distressed-looking black pants and black boots. His beard is unkempt. Slight bags under his eyes. His hair is pure gray. But on his finger, he wears a gold signet ring. A strange flower engraved in black ink. It looks expensive.
A stark contrast to the rest of his appearance.
“Hey, kid!” he says to Carter as he walks into the store.
Carter looks at him for a moment. The gray-haired man walks toward him.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t have any money,” Carter says, mistaking the man for a homeless guy.
The man is visibly irritated. “Hey kid, I’m not homeless.”
His voice is rough, impatient.
“I’ve been busy today, so I look a bit crazy right now.”
He stops a few feet from Carter. His eyes intense. “So… How’d you break that glass?”
Carter freezes. The man’s question lands like a punch to the gut. Each second stretches into an eternity, filled with the roaring sound of blood in his ears.
“Umm… What?” Carter replies, his voice barely a whisper.
What did he just say? Carter thinks. His mind a maelstrom of panic and confusion. How did he know I didn’t break the glass?
“Whaddaya mean, ‘what’?” the man says. His voice a low, gravelly rasp.
“Are you deaf or something, kid?” He takes another step closer, invading Carter’s personal space. The man smells faintly of cigarette smoke and cologne. “I’ve driven that model car before. I know how thick that glass is.”
He leans in. His eyes boring into Carter’s. His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper.
“I’m asking… How long have you been able to use magic?”
