Air Born | Generation Icarus #1

Tui - Bugged

"What?!"

Bullet holes had punctured the tailgate, and water was dripping from underneath the car. Heaving up the hardtop lid, we assessed the damage. Multiple bullets had gone straight through the tailgate into the cargo bed, puncturing several of the big water containers and a small tank of kerosene belonging to a camp cooker. Other bags of shopping had been shredded, exploded food stuck to everything. A shallow oil slick began to drain over the opened tailgate, carrying all the smashed up bits of whatever overboard.

"I didn't realise a tiny bullet could do this much damage to something that wasn't alive," I said, poking at the remains of a bag of fruit.

Hawk's face was tight. "It's a lot of kinetic energy packed into a very tiny point. When it stops, that energy has to go somewhere."

Together, we sieved through the debris, wiping the muck off the items that were whole, setting aside things that could be fixed, and tossing all the destroyed stuff into a pile. Marcus and Raven kept to the side but helped by cleaning the items the rest of us picked out. To our relief, it gradually became clear that a reasonable amount of it could be salvaged.

When all the large stuff had been removed, Hawk scanned through the remains for anything useful.

"Anyone know what this is?" he said, frowning. He turned around with a small green plastic thing in his hand.

"Trash?" Falcon suggested impatiently.

Marcus peered at the object. Suddenly, his pale blond wings flicked and he took it from Hawk's hand. Placing it on the ground and picking up a nearby stone, he smashed the green thing as hard as he could.

As the rest of us stood there staring, he showed us the result.

Small bits of electronics spilled out of the green casing like guts from a bug.

"GPS tracker," he said simply, and tipped it back into Hawk's hand.

I moved closer to Falcon. He looked as sick as I felt

"Now we know why they stopped following us," Kestrel said, trembling.

"But they won't be able to track us anymore, right?" Miguel was stroking a black wooden cross hanging around his neck.

Hawk and Falcon walked around the back of the mustard pickup, peering into every bullet hole. "There might be more than one," Hawk said. "There's no way of telling how many were bullets and how many were trackers, and if they're still embedded in the car." He slammed the tailgate shut in frustration.

"We have to ditch the yellow beast," Falcon said bluntly. "And quickly. We can't risk it."

"Oh, no," Kestrel said dryly. "I will miss it so much."

"Will we all squash into the other cars, though?" I asked, waving at Falcon's dark red pickup and the old white sedan.

"Three in mine, four in the other. It'll be cosy," Falcon said. He flicked the cover off the bed of his truck. "We should be able to pack the extra gear in here."

"I'm still not sure we have enough stuff to survive the desert though," I said, kicking one of the ruined water containers. "And what about making four new tails?"

"We don't have much money left," Miguel said apologetically.

"Almost all my savings went on my plane ticket across the Pacific," I said, helping the others with the transfer of gear from the pile on the ground into the back of the red pickup. "And H ... I mean, Falcon's nearly spent all his too."

"Don't worry, babe, we'll do what we have to do," Falcon said, confidently.

"Don't call me babe," I said, and as he opened his mouth, I added, "or bae." I shoved an armful of equipment into his chest, and he just grinned as he took it.

There was a loud clunk and a clang, and Kestrel emerged with a satisfied smile and grease on her nose.

"Let's take this, too," she said. "Just in case." She dropped the spare tire on the gravel. "Oh, and I have a credit card that should be good for a little while longer." She continued rummaging.

"Whoa, slow down, Kess," Hawk said, dodging as a car jack sailed past and hit the dirt.

Her voice echoed out of the depths of the pickup. "I'm rather sharply aware that we have reduced our transport capability by a third, and there are heavily armed and powerful people currently hunting us, probably in more of a hurry now we've killed one of their trackers. We need every advantage, tool, and type of supply we can get." Her head popped into view and she tilted her eyebrow. "So, is anyone going to help me strip this car of everything useful, or not?"

I immediately waved my hand in the air and started re-coiling my plait out of the way on top of my head. "I will!"

With only the occasional brief argument — that Kestrel and I almost always won — the seven of us got to work as quickly as we could, frequently stopping to listen for anyone sneaking up on us. Soon, Falcon's pickup and Marcus's sedan were crammed full, and their fuel tanks had been topped up with the siphoned petrol from the abandoned pickup. It was finally time for us to try and stuff ourselves in as well.

"Who's coming with me and Falcon?" I said, handing an old rag to Falcon. He stopped trying to wipe his hands off on his shirt and gave me a smile.

"How about I go in the sedan, then poor Raven won't be squashed to death by three giant winged males," Kestrel said, grinning.

I laughed. "Cool. Hawk and Miguel, you're going to have to fight over who gets to ride in the pickup with me and Falcon and who has to squeeze into the back of the car."

"I don't mind the back seat," Miguel said.

Hawk sighed theatrically. "Guess I get shotgun with Fal, then!"

"Nope, that's my seat, bro," I said, and made him climb into the middle. "I need the window, especially with Falcon's driving."

Falcon huffed and puffed in protest, good-naturedly elbowing Hawk much more than necessary as he took the driver's seat, dark brown wings banging into mid-brown.

"Any time today, Fal," I said. "Every minute we wait is another minute those poaka get closer."

"Yes, ma'am!"

Groaning, I tried to get comfortable with my folded wings digging into my back and hips. As the pickup turned around, and roared back out onto the main road, I knew it was going to be a long drive.