Finding the Sky

by A. M. Burns

  A large bird sprawled in the grass. Dillon hurried after Uncle Bryan. Is that an eagle? It doesn’t have a white head, but it’s huge.

  “Red-tailed hawk.” Uncle Bryan stopped a foot or so away from the bird. It beat its wings feebly. He frowned at it. “It’s still alive. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. Depends on how injured it is.”

  A pang of pity shot through Dillon. For a moment he flashed back to the convenience store the day before where the two Shanks died in pools of their own blood. He didn’t see any blood on the bird, but inside him, he didn’t like the idea of the bird dying on the side of the road. It deserves to be flying in the sky, not down here on the ground.

  Uncle Bryan pulled off his blue T-shirt. For a moment, his bare chest drew Dillon’s attention. He’d never seen his uncle shirtless before. He knew Uncle Bryan was in decent shape, but he looked more cut than some of the football players and swimmers at school. The guys at school also didn’t have blond hair on their bodies.

  “What are we going to do?” Dillon turned his attention back to the hawk.

  “Take it to some friends of mine who do wild bird rehabilitation. If it’s going to live, they’ll have a better chance at getting it back in the air than anyone.” He dropped the shirt over the bird, then knelt down and gathered it up.

  “Do you have a box or something to put it in?” Dillon watched closely as Uncle Bryan stood with the bird in his large hands.

  “Nope.” Uncle Bryan walked toward the truck. “Would you feel comfortable holding it while I drive there, or would you rather drive? I think Milly said you have your license already.”

  Dillon glanced from the cloth-wrapped bird in his uncle’s grasp to the truck. I’ve never driven anything that big. “Won’t the bird hurt me? It’s a wild animal.”

  “I can show you how to hold her safely, if you don’t feel comfortable driving the truck.” He grinned at Dillon. “I know it’s a bit bigger than your mom’s car.”

  “Yeah. I think the truck scares me more than the bird does.” Not to mention I’ll have other opportunities to drive a truck; I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance to hold a hawk again. She looked so sad flopping there on the ground. I hope she’ll be okay.

  5

  DILLON HADN’T been out to his uncle’s place in several years. His mother didn’t like the hour-long drive from Dallas to south of Kerens. The trees were thicker here; some of them made Dillon wonder if parts of the area had ever been cleared for farming, or if it had always been so wild. The hawk in his hands stayed quiet most of the trip, but through the T-shirt, its heart pounded against his fingers. Dillon spent as much time staring at the brown feathers peeking out of the blue fabric as he did watching the green landscape they drove past.

  When Uncle Bryan hit a pothole, it jarred all three of them and the T-shirt slipped from the hawk’s head. For a moment Dillon stared into the defiant eyes of the hawk. It opened its beak at him and tensed in his hold. He carefully kept the talons away from his hands or legs.

  “Careful there.” Uncle Bryan reached over and slipped the covering back over the hawk. “We don’t want her trying to bite you. But I’ve heard the bite isn’t too bad. It’s the feet you have to worry about. Remember not to touch the feet; it’ll try and grab you.”

  “One of my frie—a girl I know at school was saying that she had a parrot and they bite really hard.” Dillon instantly missed the view into the hawk’s eyes. For a second it felt like it was touching his soul and asking to be returned to the sky.

  “Yeah, I’ve heard the same thing, but a hawk isn’t a parrot. Totally different critter. The guys we’re taking her to have a lot of experience with them, and they told me the time I brought them a screech owl that I needed to watch out for the feet. The talons are really sharp.”

  Dillon hadn’t gotten a good look at the hawk’s talons before it’d been bundled up, but he remembered the talons of the eagles at the zoo, and they had looked really sharp and dangerous.

  They turned off the pavement and onto a dirt road. Even though they slowed down, the ride still jarred them.

  “We’re almost there,” Uncle Bryan said. “They’re just down the road from my place.”

  “I thought this was the way to your house.” Dillon spotted the long, low building just beyond some trees as they turned down the next road and didn’t pull into the driveway that he thought they should.

  Then, right before the road bent to the right, they pulled into a driveway on the left. A sign on the edge of the trees proclaimed “Return To The Sky” in big dark blue letters. Below that in smaller letters was “wild bird rehabilitation center.” The pole gate stood open.

  The trees closed in on them again for a moment, then opened into a large clearing. There were several buildings of various sizes and more tall pens that looked like dog runs but had branches hung at different heights. In a few of the pens, hawks and other birds sat watching them as they drove in.

  Before they came to a stop, two men and a tall boy with curly blond hair came out of what looked like the main house. The men looked about the same age; both were rugged-looking. One had a brown beard, sprinkled with gray, but his head was bald. The other one still had a head full of red hair and a smooth face. The redhead was taller, but the bald one looked like a bull in the shoulders. The boy appeared to be in his late teens and didn’t really look like either of the two men. He was tall, like the redhead, but broad like the bald man. He had on a T-shirt with some saying on it that Dillon couldn’t make out from the truck.

  “Bryan, thanks for giving us the heads-up call,” the bald man said as Uncle Bryan got out of the truck.

  “No problem.” He hurried around to Dillon’s door, but the boy beat him to it.

  “So, you’re Bryan’s nephew, Dillon?” Opening the door, the boy smiled, and briefly Dillon couldn’t answer.

  He gulped. “Yeah, that’s me.” What do I do with the bird? He glanced around.

  “Here, let me take the bird.” The redhead reached around the boy toward Dillon.

  Without getting out of the vehicle, Dillon held the bird out to him and for a moment didn’t want to let go. The man’s long fingers brushed his as he took control of the hawk.

  “Thanks.” Dillon flexed his hands, not realizing they had fallen asleep until the bird was handed off.

  “No. Thank you for carrying her all the way here.” The redhead turned from them and headed for the building nearest the house. “Let’s get her inside where I can take a look at her and see how badly she was hit.”

  Dillon slid out of the truck and nearly bumped into the boy. “Uncle Bryan didn’t tell me your name.”

  “I’m Scott.” He offered his large hand. “Bryan’s mentioned you a time or two. That’s how I knew your name.” Close-up, Scott’s black T-shirt read “Werewolves rule, Zombie’s drool!” in dark red letters.

  After a quick shake, they fell into the wake of the adults and headed inside. Dillon felt an odd attraction to Scott. There was something kind and enticing about the boy. He looked like he played sports. He had the size to do either football or basketball, neither of which Dillon was any good at. But so far he hadn’t displayed any of the cockiness that Dillon normally associated with guys on either team. The initial smile and handshake felt warm and welcoming.

  The room the redhead walked into looked more like a doctor’s office than Dillon expected. Most of the surfaces were stainless steel and the floor was tile. There was even a faint, clean alcohol odor. An examining table with a large light over it stood in the middle of the room. The man carried the hawk to it. He gently pulled Uncle Bryan’s shirt off the bird and tossed it to him. “Here, Bryan, you might want to put that back on.” There was something light and almost teasing about the way he said it.

  Uncle Bryan pulled on the shirt. “Never thought I’d….” He looked at Dillon, let his voice trail off, and flushed slightly.

  Dillon glanced between them, frowning slightly as he wondered what he was missin
g. “So, Alex, what do you think?” the bald man asked, drawing everyone’s attention back to the bird on the examining table.

  The redhead, Alex, flipped on the light above the table and the bird flapped her wings, sending a dull ringing through the room. “She’s fairly lively, that’s good. Paul, come get hold of her so I can check a few more things. It helps to have two hands free with these big birds.”

  Paul took hold of the hawk while Alex felt under her feathers and then shone a light in her eyes. She glared with a simple majesty at them. Even when she tried to get away from him, Paul seemed to anticipate her movements. The hawk kept her mouth open, hissing occasionally and snapping at them in regal defiance of what they were doing to her.

  “There’s a split in the upper mandible.” Alex gestured to a crack in her beak that Dillon hadn’t noticed before. “That’s going to take some time to heal.” He closed the hawk’s mouth and turned her head as if he was studying her beak; then he let go and she hissed at him again. “That’s a good girl. At least everything still lines up right.” He gently pulled out her right wing when Paul moved his arm to let it loose.

  Alex frowned. “A bit of tissue damage here. I don’t think she broke anything, but it’s going to be sore for a while.” He folded the wing back up and then checked the left one. “This side’s okay.” He let Paul get her well secured again, then felt her chest and stomach. Starting on the right side, he pulled her feet free of Paul’s grasp and felt along them and the legs. She snapped at him and jerked her left leg back.

  “Here, let me hold that out for you.” Paul repositioned his hands and captured the leg again, this time holding it out for Alex to examine.

  “Thanks.” Alex frowned again. “I think there may be a small fracture in the rear tarsus.” He looked at the hawk’s head as he turned the foot loose. “I think you’re going to be with us a couple months. What did you do, try and get a mouse that was inside that semi?”

  “Why do you think that?” Dillon asked.

  “I actually don’t.” Alex glanced at him. “But with beak and foot damage, that tells me the main point of impact was head-on, like she flew into the truck’s windshield. She was probably going for something in the median and didn’t see the truck in time to change course. Raptors don’t see much once they’ve locked on to prey; that’s why so many of them get hit by cars and trucks on the highway.” He looked from Dillon back to Paul. “Let’s get a quick weight on her, then put her in the midsized hospital cage. With that foot and possibly sprained wing, I don’t want her moving around much the next couple of days. I’ll get fluids in her later.”

  With a slight nod, Paul moved to another table where there was a small scale. Scott already had some kind of cloth wrap laid out next to it. Within minutes, they’d wrapped up the hawk, weighed her, made some notes on a piece of paper, then unwrapped the bird and put her in a small steel cage that had a low perch in it. The hawk waddled awkwardly to the far side of the cage and glared at them once her back was in the corner.

  “Come on,” Alex said. “Let’s give her some time to relax.”

  It was all Dillon could do to tear his gaze away from the bird and follow the others as they walked out of the building. If we hadn’t been there, she might’ve died, either on the side of the road, or starving by not being able to eat. Uncle Bryan did a great thing by stopping for her. She’s so cool.

  “So what are you guys doing the rest of the day?” Paul asked as he walked over to three weathered Adirondack chairs sitting under a massive oak tree between the building and the house.

  “We’re going to go get Dillon settled in.” Uncle Bryan paused just short of the chairs. “Since he’s going to be here for the summer, might as well make him comfortable.”

  “Makes sense.” Paul settled into a chair. “So what are your dinner plans? We’re heading into Gun Barrel for some pizza.”

  Uncle Bryan cocked an eyebrow. “Gun Barrel? For pizza?”

  Alex sat in the chair next to Paul. “Yeah. I know you’ve gone with us before out there.” He frowned thoughtfully for a second as he paused, then shook his head. “The name of the place eludes me. It’s been there for years. Right near the lake. It’s a little greasy spoon that beats the hell out of the chain places in Corsicana or Athens.”

  “What do you think?” Uncle Bryan looked at Dillon. “I didn’t actually plan anything for dinner, figured we’d see what we could scrounge up. It’ll give you the chance to get to know folks better.”

  Dillon shrugged. “I’m open. You’re in charge this summer.”

  A loud guffaw escaped Paul. “Bryan, how are you going to handle being in charge?”

  Uncle Bryan looked down at the bald man with a dark expression that Dillon had never seen on his face. “Just fine, thank you.” He glanced at Dillon. “Let’s go get you settled.”

  “We’ll pick you guys up about five,” Alex called after them.

  As they got back in the truck, a pang of regret hit Dillon as he relaxed and realized he wanted to ask a lot more questions about the hawk. He snapped his seat belt closed and looked at Uncle Bryan. “Do you know what’s going to happen to the hawk?”

  Uncle Bryan started the truck and turned it around. “They’ll do everything they can to return her to the wild. I don’t know all the specifics of how they do that, but I know they get a lot of birds back in the sky every year. It’s what they do, and they’re good at it.”

  Dillon relaxed a little bit. “Good. She deserves to be wild.”

  “That she does.” Uncle Bryan turned on the road and drove the short distance to his house.

  Meeting Scott, Paul, and Alex was nice. He hadn’t expected to meet potential friends on his first day in the country. It made the idea of spending the summer there easier. Something about Scott called to him, more than just the interesting nonconformist T-shirt. Dillon hadn’t bothered to let many people know that he was more than a little bit interested in werewolves, vampires, and such. He knew they weren’t real, but they offered a chance to be different from the norm that permeated the world. If there was one thing he understood, it was being different.

  6

  DILLON’S ROOM at Uncle Bryan’s house was bigger than his room at the apartment. Even so, it didn’t take him long to get his bags unpacked into the empty dresser and closet that was half-full of boxes. After that he went to find out the access codes to get online.

  Uncle Bryan sat on the big leather couch scrolling through the TV menu. He looked up and smiled at Dillon. “Unpacked already?”

  “Yeah, didn’t have much to bring.” Dillon eased himself down into the matching chair near the couch. “I was wondering if I can get the computer connected.” He opened the notebook computer in his lap.

  “Oh, yeah. I guess you’ll need the passwords for the network.” Uncle Bryan set the remote down, leaving the screen halfway through finding a new channel. “Give me a minute. I know I have that written down in the computer room.”

  He stood and walked out of the living room. Dillon closed the laptop, rose, and followed him, suddenly feeling less cut off from the world if he was going to be able to access the Internet.

  The computer room was a lot more chaotic than the rest of the house. The bookcases weren’t neatly organized. Things leaned in haphazard piles that looked like they could fall over at any time. There was a small clear space on the desk in front of the large monitor, but on either side of it, the clutter was anywhere from a couple of inches to a foot or more deep. Uncle Bryan sat in the desk chair and opened the top drawer. “It’s in here. I put it in here so it wouldn’t be lost.”

  Dillon stood near the desk, unsure if he should clear the papers and magazines from the only other chair in the room so he could sit down. “How do you find things in here?”

  “I actually do have a system.” Uncle Bryan waved the comment away as he pulled a little black book from the drawer. “It might not look like it, but I can normally find things without too much searching.” He opened the book. “O
kay, I can write this down for you, or we can go ahead and put it in right now.”

  Trying not to knock anything over, Dillon sat on the corner of the desk and opened his laptop. He balanced the computer precariously on his legs. “Go ahead and give it to me. Once it’s in the computer, I shouldn’t need it again, unless you change the code on me.”

  “It’s been the same for years. I don’t believe in changing things I don’t have to.” Uncle Bryan read him the code.

  Dillon put it in and promptly got Internet access. “Thanks, Uncle Bryan. I think I’m going to go e-mail a couple of friends and let them know what happened.” Actually just Robbie. He’s the only one who really seems to care about me.

  “Okay. If you want, you can help me feed the animals before we go to dinner. You might as well get that figured out. It’s something you’re going to be helping with this summer.”

  Dillon didn’t have the first clue about taking care of animals, but he didn’t want Uncle Bryan to know that. “Sure. I won’t be too long.”

  Uncle Bryan shook his head. “Don’t worry about time. It won’t be for a couple of hours yet. I’ll come get you, if you’re not in the living room watching TV with me by then.”

  “Thanks.” Dillon got off the desk and hurried back to his room.

  The speed that the Internet responded with surprised him. It was faster than at home. Out here Dillon had expected it to be really slow. But then Mom can’t afford the fastest package.

  He found an e-mail from Robbie waiting for him.

  Hey Dillon. U ok? Heard about the robbery. According to Pat, Achmed and Phil are dead. People are saying that ur in the Shanks. u were short last night.

  Dillon sent a quick reply explaining the situation.

  As soon as he logged into his social media site, a chat window from Robbie popped up.