Copyright 2015 Kenny Jackson, all rights reserved
Table of Contents
Hedwig Jordan stopped and looked up at the pure white sky. His eyes squinted and his neck craned. Some of it seemed to be falling at him. That was wrong. This part of the sky should be secure. Hedwig turned to his friend Otto and opened his mouth. The ice cream cone hit him in the head.
“You’ve stopped,” said Otto Bamberg.
Otto reared up on his hind legs to see. He couldn’t otherwise; his head pointed at the ground when he was on all fours. Hedwig had his shirt cuff balled in his right hand to pull the sleeve taut. He was bent over, raking the sleeve across his thinning hair.
“Urh,” said Hedwig. Such is the price of rediscovering byrds.”
Otto reared back farther. He searched the surface of the sky and saw the highway, directly above them.
“Did you see who it was?” said Otto.
“Who? I think it was an E. gull-byrd,” said Hedwig. “But I don’t know his name and, you know, I’m an archaeologist, not a cryptozoologist.”
“I’ll ask in the station. There won’t be many people using the highway this early.”