Air Born | Generation Icarus #1

Miguel - Gravity Sucks

Imitating Tyler's initial take-off technique, I bent my legs, opened my wings and prepared to jump. On the first downstroke, as my feet left the ground, I felt the surge upward, but just as Tyler had described, gravity quickly grabbed hold and pulled me back. After a few awkward flaps trying to find my rhythm, I could feel my chest burn. My shoulders ached and begged to give up, but I pushed through.

Like Tyler, though, I still wasn't going anywhere. It was like fighting an invisible tether to the ground. I tried to pull my knees up to my stomach but the effort put everything else out of rhythm. Crying out in pain, I dropped my legs, and sagged in mid-air.

With my last few drops of energy, I tried to lean my head and chest forward, to pull myself through the air instead of just pointing up. Tilting my downstroke so it reached forward instead of up, I felt the surge of air nudge me along, like a gentle beach wave, and I gasped.

But my core muscles failed and I bent in the middle. My legs slumped down and my flapping burned to a halt a moment later. I fell a few feet onto the grass, landing on my hands and knees. My shaking wings rustled as they hit the ground on either side of me.

I lay there for a while, trying not to puke from the overload of lactic acid in my chest.

Gradually my muscles stopped screaming at me, and my lungs cooled. My heart rate returned to what was normal for me now, and the pounding blood drained out of my head.

Tyler sat beside me for a few minutes, letting me recover.

Eventually he said, "Guess the double amputation plan doesn't sound so dumb now, right?"

I half-groaned, half-laughed, and finally drew in my wings, the feathers rustling as they slid through the grass. Shakily, I levered myself onto my butt.

"I feel like we're missing something obvious," I said, trying not to let the frustration show.

"Let's check Google again," Tyler said.

But as he reached for the phone, we both heard the crack of a breaking branch. We froze, scanning the edge of the trees around us. I suddenly felt exposed, as if I was in a zoo exhibit instead of in an isolated forest clearing.

"Movement, to your left," Tyler whispered. I glanced over and for a split second saw a flicker of something between the trees. I turned back to Tyler, fear radiating between us. In our excitement, we'd completely forgotten to keep watch. Silently, we slouched further down into the long grass.

"Was that a person or a deer?" Tyler whispered.

I concentrated, trying to listen for retreating footsteps. "I've never met a deer, I don't know what one sounds like," I muttered, and he smiled faintly.

"I'm sure we would have heard a person coming," he said. "We heard that coyote the other night."

"But we were making a lot of noise." I fidgeted with the crucifix around my neck, anxiety eating away at my fading excitement.

"We're not now, and I still can't hear anything."

For long minutes, there was nothing other than the normal birdsong.

"I guess that was our cue to call it a day, then," Tyler said eventually. "We're starting to see and hear things from exhaustion."

I couldn't argue with that. Still, we took a very roundabout route back to our camp, constantly checking over our shoulders and listening for any potential stalkers.

But there was nothing.