Ashes by Estevan Vega

god if he never shows up and gives you what you want?”
    Krane barely chuckled.
    â€œWell, Doctor, our one goal is to replicate what we’ve begun. To create. These creatures hold the key to a future mankind has needed since the Almighty, in his infinite wisdom , thought it prudent to baptize the human race with a little rain.”
    Krane rubbed his thumbnail inside the chipping grooves of one of his teeth.
    â€œWe are so close to stepping beyond the boundaries your mentor left behind . But this is only the beginning. Just think twice before becoming like that old man. No attachments. No excuses…”
    â€œNo return.”
    The left side of Hoven’s face slid up into a half grin. “Right. A man after my own heart.”
    Krane’s stomach sank at such hollow words.
    â€œAs I was saying, Manny , we are getting closer to eradicating the imperfections. These abilities we bring to light aren't to be squandered. We are perfecting the gene in them, yes we are. Slow but sure. We’re not ready yet, though. We’re close, but we are still like them out there, little children—the weak links. We must be ready when it comes time. And when we are—” he sipped the last of the liquor “—all of this will be a blink.”
    Krane had noticed Saul Hoven’s sunken shoulders before, but now they seemed to slouch even more. In his old age, he was becoming like a vulture with a short spine. His hair was cropped around the ears, and crept wearily toward the top of his scalp to form a neatly brushed flat-top . Lines started at each side of his nose and snaked down to the corners of his mouth, forcefully. Hoven’s eyes had a sick glow to them too, a look of possession, like a king gloating over a kingdom of plagued rejects. Incurable, belligerent—a living dead. Krane knew it was brilliant after all to have constructed the Sanctuary beneath this unshakable façade.
    Krane scratched at his neck, and afterward, rubbed the bottoms of his long fingernails on his pants. “I s-sometimes wonder, sir, if there is an end,” he said.
    â€œJust do what you do, Manny. Do what your mentor taught you, pathetic waste that he was.”
    â€œHe w-wasn’t a waste,” Krane barely whispered.  
    Hoven didn’t even acknowledge the comment. “You know, Manny, I never believed I’d see the day when human men became gods. But that day is coming quicker than we know. The Good Book is right, I gather. The world isn’t what it used to be. Not anymore. The skies and the grounds are old and tired of us. We’ve slipped. We’ve strayed. We’re zombies, like them. We’re looking to start over. We’re looking for a second chance.”
    â€œFrom us?”
    â€œFrom us,” Hoven said definitively.
    Krane’s eyes grew heavy, the silence of the moment calming him briefly. Hoven could conjure purpose all he wanted, but months had been spent and there was little to call successful. The dreams weren’t delivering the sort of promise he knew his mentor had envisioned. They were too sporadic, too jumbled. They didn’t explain enough. What was he missing? What could he do differently?
    â€œHow are the boy’s sessions with Carraway going?” Krane finally asked.
    â€œAs good as they can.”
    â€œWhich means not v-ver-very well. Tell you the truth, I didn’t think enrolling Carraway into our selected was a g-goo-good-good idea. But there was a part of me that hoped…. Sir, what if the arson’s body doesn’t m-manifest the ability again?”
    At this point, the female subject didn’t matter. The Phoenix, as he called her, was an anomaly all her own. But the arson mattered. Because if he could really create fire, and if they could control it the way they had so far controlled the Source, then Hoven really was right. The day would come when men could become gods.
    â€œCure your unbelief, Doctor .