Free Water Shaper (World Aflame) by Jon Messenger

sloped road. Its warriors spread out behind it, covering both directions of traffic as they marched toward Los Angeles.
    Over the crest of a hill, a large semi-truck sped down the eastbound lane of Interstate 10. The road was concealed beyond the lip of the hill, so it wasn’t until he began his downward slope that he saw the hundreds of blond, leather-clad men and women spread out across the road. Reaching forward, he pressed a button on the dash that sounded the horn. Air blew through the large stacks mounted behind the cab, blasting the air with an ear-splitting honk.
    The Fire Elemental flinched at the noise. Though it didn’t realize it, it had been savoring the silence of the desert. Only the sound of their booted feet on the asphalt had disturbed the illusion of endless seas of sand and shrubbery.
    The Elemental turned its red eyes sharply on the semi as it sped down the road. The driver honked again, and the Elemental scowled at the sound. It could hear the air brakes engaging on the large truck as it tried to stop in front of the army.
    The Fire Elemental raised both hands and flames erupted from beneath the truck. The pressure from the flames lifted the cab and trailer high into the air. The force of the fire split the fuel tank mounted beneath the semi, and the whole contraption exploded in a massive shower of gas, flames, and concussive might.
    Steel showered down around the warriors, clattering onto the asphalt. The Fire Elemental smiled wickedly at its work. The Elemental returned its eyes to nearby Los Angeles as the husk of the truck slammed back down onto the road. It walked forward, casually bypassing the burning wreckage, and started down the hill. The senseless destruction of the truck was a release of its frustrations, and it secretly hoped they would encounter more cars before they reached the city proper.
     
    The Elemental was not disappointed.
    Many cars tried to flee Los Angeles. Not far outside the city, a car trying to aggressively merge lanes got tangled up with another vehicle that refused to yield his lane. The resulting accident had included another car that had been driving too closely behind the unyielding vehicle. A three-car pileup was enough to block all the eastbound lanes for miles, stretching all the way back into the city itself.
    People stood beside their cars, yelling angrily at one another, while their air conditions ran full blast within. They cupped their hands to their eyes as they tried to see the accident, or they fidgeted with the luggage racks strapped to the tops of their minivans.
    “What can you see?” a wife asked as she rolled down the window to their sedan.
    Their children complained endlessly in the backseat, asking how much longer it would be before traffic started moving again and they’d get to Colorado Springs.
    The husband bent at the waist and rested his forearms on the windowsill. He immediately withdrew them as the metal seared his exposed skin.
    “I don’t know,” he said. “I can kind of see the accident up ahead, but I don’t really see any cars sliding by.”
    Cars to their left turned onto the soft sand of the median and drove to the empty westbound lanes. They bounced back onto the asphalt and drove back toward Los Angeles.
    “Maybe we should just go back,” his wife said, noticing the cars making U-turns.
    The husband shook his head. He lowered his voice so he could talk only to his wife, despite the silence in the car. “Go back where? Our house might as well be condemned, and there isn’t a single hotel with vacancies in the entire city. We need to go stay with your parents for a while, until the insurance company starts sending out checks.”
    He heard the sound of sirens and turned in time to see a police car driving along the shoulder, with one set of wheels on the asphalt and the passenger side pushing through the packed dirt. The rumble strip sounded in a dull hum as the police car tried to pass vehicles that, like it, had decided