Air Born | Generation Icarus #1

Tyler - Weird Relief

The strangest part of the whole weird situation — which I had thought could not get any weirder — was the overwhelming sense of relief that I was not the only guy running around with wings growing out of his back.

We found shelter tucked into a hollow at the base of a steep rocky slope. It wasn't deep enough to be called a cave but was far from the trail and seemed a safe place to build a fire. In the flickering light, we exchanged back stories, awkwardly at first, and then with increasing confidence, until the night sky lightened into dawn.

I cringed as Miguel described the sports camera footage of my accident.

"I can't believe the whole world has seen it. My friends ... the other divers." I shuddered. "I can't imagine what it must have been like seeing it happen in real time."

"And I thought my wingbirth was traumatic." Miguel grinned. "At least I only traumatized myself."

"Wing birth?"

"It seemed to fit."

I couldn't help but agree. "Are you sure you want to keep hanging out with the most infamous face on social media?" I joked. "Actually, it makes me kind of glad I don't have my phone. I do not need to see the memes about my, uh, wingbirth." I could just imagine the insanity unfolding on the internet. "I guess being all alone in the woods isn't so bad, after all."

Miguel looked up. "That reminds me ... Most of it was probably just messing around, but don't be surprised if we have to start dodging hunters sometime soon. Like, today."

I stared at him. "Hunters?"

"They've offered a pretty big reward for your return."

"Who? Not my parents!"

Miguel shook his head, his black wings rustling behind him. "No, some big private company. Didn't say who. I guess because they're being charitable?"

"I doubt it," I said. "What about you?"

"There's nobody alive who knows about my wings. And nobody left who cares what happens to me," Miguel said, matter-of-factly.

"Not even your dad?"

Miguel's eyes dropped to the cooling ashes of the fire. "What about my dad?"

"Is he still alive? You didn't mention him before." My butt was numb from sitting still for so long, and I tried to ease it by leaning backward.

Miguel didn't answer. Still staring at the embers of the fire, he absentmindedly pulled a black crucifix on a chain out from under his shirt.

"Miguel?"

Slowly, his gaze refocused on me. "He might be dead, for all I know. Although I doubt it. I haven't seen him in about five years."

"Why's that?"

He shrugged, and his wings bobbed up and down with the movement like twin shadows. "He did something terrible, so Mom and I left and went to live in Mexico City. That's the last time I saw him."

"Where were you living before?"

"New York City. Manhattan." His lips briefly twisted into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "The total opposite of what I found waiting for me in Mexico."

It was obviously a no-go-zone. Things were quiet for a while as he went back to staring into the fire and I experimented with propping myself up on my lower wing elbows like I would with my arms. It was surprisingly comfortable, even with the feathers bending against the dirt.

"Do you know if your parents ever went to Beijing for fertility treatment?"

"What?"

"I think that's where I ... you know." I leaned sideways so I could stretch one wing out. My control was improving, but I still had to consciously think, Move, wing! instead of automatically doing it as I did with my arms and legs. "I assume the same thing happened to you."

"No! I'm sure they didn't, and anyhow," Miguel slipped the crucifix off his neck, "don't you think there must be a ... higher power behind this, Tyler?"

"What?"

"This could not have happened without God's will." His voice was soft, yet determined. "As for why ... I'm hoping we'll find out soon."

"Really? I'm just hoping we'll be able to use these things for something other than decoration," I said, grinning weakly. Miguel was way more religious than anyone else I knew.

For a moment, I thought I'd offended him. But then a smile broke the frown and he chuckled. "It does seem a little weird that we'd be given wings but not the ability to fly." Tucking his crucifix back under his shirt, he stood up, using his wings as levers. "Have you tried?"

Stiffly, I copied him, trying to stamp the blood back into my feet as I did. "I managed to glide a couple of times. When the skydive went wrong and then at the hospital. But I had no real lift. Human muscles are not designed for that type of exercise. It's going to take some serious training before we'll be strong enough."

My stomach groaned. Miguel's rumbled in response, and we laughed.

"Food first, then?"

"Let's hope we've got enough."