Air Born | Generation Icarus #1

Hawk - Shopping Spree

A small pool of light flickered at the end of the aisle.

"You're not exactly a natural at this breaking and entering business." Kestrel laughed quietly as she moved toward me, carefully avoiding all obstacles with the help of a flashlight. "Need a hand?"

The combination of stress and hours of being cramped up in the pickup seemed to have made me physically incompetent and I nearly smacked skulls with her as I struggled to my feet. She dodged sideways, bumping into the shelving. There was a nasty wobbling noise, and I reached up just in time to stop a big jar falling on her head.

"I really don't like this place," I said, pushing the jar safely back onto the shelf. I found myself staring at her as she shyly smiled back, her nose about three inches from my chest.

My left hand was still resting on the shelf behind her. I could see every flicker of emotion in her beautiful grey eyes. I struggled to think of something to say. After long seconds where I could hardly breathe, I finally dropped my hand and stepped back. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Kestrel said softly. "Thanks."

I watched her move off down the aisle, and wondered what the moment had meant. Rehashing the encounter in my head, I tried to find any clue that might reveal what she thought of me, and what I could have done to make myself less of a dick and more appealing. Although the middle of a burglary was hardly the time to test the waters of a potential relationship.

With a parka-full of camping food in one hand and two sleeping bags suspended from the other, I met my fellow looters by the loading bay door. We pooled our prizes and took stock.

Along with sleeping gear and enough dehydrated meals and preserved food to feed an army, we'd collected flashlights, batteries, fuel for the camping stove, a compass, more large water containers and individual water bottles, a couple of first-aid kits, hunting knives, and seven pairs of sunglasses. Everyone had also acquired extra desert-appropriate clothing as well as sewing supplies for tails and repairs. At Kestrel's suggestions, we'd also each selected a pair of 'flight boots' — sturdy knee-high boots that would, as she pointed out, add a critical layer of protection between our muscles and the tight tail straps. Tui had added rolls of toilet paper and soap, Marcus had found smaller but no less useful things like matches, Swiss army knives and other tools and Falcon produced—

"No way," I said. "We are not taking a gun."

Falcon scowled. "They have guns." He tightened his grip on the pistol.

"They weren't shooting to kill," I said. "What will happen if they realise that we're armed as well?"

Falcon waved the gun around. "Maybe they'll leave us alone if they know we're dangerous!"

Kestrel looked frightened as its shadow crossed her face in the harsh glow of the flashlights.

"Where did you find it?" she asked. "This place doesn't even sell guns."

"Found it at the back of a drawer underneath one of the cash registers."

I couldn't tell what the others were thinking. I sighed.

"I don't like it. But I'm not in charge. What should we do, vote?"

"Ammunition?" Marcus said.

Falcon produced a box and opened it. There were only half a dozen bullets in there.

"Doesn't seem worth it," I said.

"But it's six shots they won't expect!"

"They'll expect more after the first," Kestrel said quietly.

Falcon grinned. "Then I'll have to shoot quickly."

"So what happens when they start shooting back and you've run out of ammo?" she snapped.

I interrupted. "How many people want to take the gun?"

Falcon raised his hand. There was a pause, and Tui half-heartedly put hers up too. Surprisingly, Marcus also voted yes. So it was just me and Kestrel against.

"What about the others?" I asked. Falcon grunted, annoyed, and Kestrel ran to fetch them.

When Miguel and Raven joined us, they both voted against, Raven shyly raising her hand to waist height, and Miguel defiantly waving his hand high.

Falcon glowered.

"We've still got knives," I said.

Kestrel added, "And wings."

"All right, all right!" Falcon turned to take the gun back.

Miguel found paper and a pen.

Falcon peered over his shoulder. "What are you doing?"

"Can you hold the flashlight? Thanks." Miguel resumed his scribbling. "I'm making a list."

"Why?"

"So the owners know exactly what we took and can claim it from their insurance," Miguel said with finality in his soft voice.

Falcon rolled his eyes. Kestrel stepped around the mountain of loot to help Miguel. "Twenty packets of dehydrated potato flakes, seven sleeping bags, seven sunglasses, two boxes of sunscreen ..."

"Do we really need the sunglasses and sunscreen?"

"We're going to the desert," she said.

Miguel sighed. "Okay, okay ..."

"I will delete the video," Marcus said. Falcon thrust the flashlight at Kestrel and followed him. Raven and Tui scooped up supplies and carried them out the dock door as Miguel recorded them.

I extracted our wad of cash and roughly recounted it. It was less than a quarter of the value of the stuff that we'd taken, but the guilt was starting to ease. After all, it wasn't our fault that we were on the run and without the means to survive. But I hoped that Miguel was right about the insurance.

There was a muted thud from a distant corner.

"What's up?" I called softly.

"Just getting into the back office," Falcon said curtly. There was a creak as a hinge protested, and then Falcon and Marcus reappeared.

"That was fast."

"Magnets," Marcus said. When I remained blank, he added, "Magnets delete the tapes."

"If you say so."

"We're lucky it was ancient, and not digital." Falcon grinned. "It's about time we had some luck."

I shrugged. After all, did it even matter if they caught us on camera? We were already on the country's most-wanted list.

Tucking the list and the cash under the foot of the ancient cash register at the front of the store, I saw the note that Miguel had added at the bottom of the page.

We are truly sorry that we can't pay for everything we took, but we have no other way to survive.