Free ASCENSION by EJ Wallace

“No.”
                  “It gets replaced,” Ben said, then turned a knob on the torch and pressed the button. This time, a jet of blue flames erupted from the tip. Ben then placed the flame over the lock, slowly moving the torch back and forth. The flames embraced the steel, wrapping around it with a dull roar. It was hypnotizing to watch. The fire purifies , Jake thought, remembering Ras' Guul. Abruptly, Ben cut off the torch, and the flames ceased. Then he stuck in the key, and the pick-up truck door swung open.
                  “Ha!” Ben said, slapping the side of the truck. “Worked better than I thought. Now climb in.” Ben unlocked the passenger side door and threw the blow torch into the trailer in back.
                  Jake climbed into the pick-up, which smelled like grease, oil, and old leather. It wasn't an unpleasant smell, or overpowering. Truly, it seemed to sharpen his senses.
                  Ben climbed into the driver's seat and cranked the engine over. The old beast bucked a few times, then roared to life. Ben brought it into drive, and for a moment, Jake thought they would be stuck in the snow, but, miraculously, the tires caught something, and it climbed over the snow and out onto the highway.
                  The drive was long, and Ben wouldn't let Jake turn on the radio, said all the noise clouded the mind. Ben wasn't a big talker, either. He stayed silent for most of the trip, save for a few solitary grunts. Jake wanted to drift back to sleep, but now he couldn't. The cold had awoken him. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Ben pulled off on a dirt road. The road was on a clearing, wedged in between two tree lines.
                  “Where are we?” Jake asked.
                  Ben climbed out of the truck. “Grab your ax,” was all he said in response.
                  Jake obeyed, and when he got out, Ben looked at his feet. “Are those sneakers?” he asked.
                  Jake only sighed, and Ben laughed. “We'll have to get you some proper snow boots from the general store.”
                  Jake was relieved. “Good, I thought I was going to have to work all day in wet socks.”
                  Ben cocked an eyebrow. “I meant after breakfast. It's too early now, the store isn't open. Besides, wood's softer in the morning,” Ben said with a smile.
                  Three hours later, Jake was soaked in sweat, his arms heavy, the ax heavier. Jake swung his ax again, and it bit into the core of a stubborn pine, one that just wouldn't fall. Even the thin trees were deceptively difficult to cut down. Their cores were so dense. It was only now Jake understood Ben's joke. The wood wasn't softer in the morning, you just weren't as tired. In the three hours, Jake had only managed to hack down one tree and was working his way through the second. Ben, however, had chopped down three, and was farther into his fourth than Jake was on his second. Jake's hands were blistered and clammy, his sweat making it harder to grip the ax's handle. His back ached, and his muscles cried out in protest at every movement. He wasn't sure how much longer he could go on. They had worked all the way through the twilight hours into the morning.
                  The dawn was breaking over the horizon now. With it were swirls of crimson and amber, gold and orange, all refracting off of the endless blanket of snow. The serene sight soothed Jake, and suddenly, his arms didn't feel so heavy. Jake swung his ax hard into the pine. The handle shivered from the impact as the head buried itself deep into the core. Jake swung again, and again, powerful strokes, until finally, the tree buckled and fell with a muffled thump into the snow, kicking up swirling powder that shimmered in the morning light. Jake split the log just like Ben had shown him, and before he knew it,