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There was no flight plan to be filed in heaven, no clearance for takeoff granted from workers in glass towers. There was no waiting his turn to taxi down a runway before taking to the real friendly skies. Ryan already had permission to take off; Jesus said so. There was air traffic in heaven, but the flying holies saw one another and made simple adjustments like scooting over a little before passing.
At last the balcony was in sight. Ryan saw holies and angels dropping down and through, on their way to work a mission no doubt. That quickening struck his wings again, and Ryan spread them wide. He did a fast flyover of the area and then dove headfirst down through the opening as fast as he could.
The air that rushed over his body was fresh. It was cool air without bugs to smack his face or fly down his throat like they sometimes did when he rode his bike. The balcony’s mist felt good and added pleasure to his thrilling, weightless dive. He felt a wave of butterflies in his stomach, and his lungs filled with heaven’s pure air. By the time he let out the air, he was no longer in the perfect heaven but was streaking down through space and entering earth’s atmosphere.
As his body sank closer to the planet, he met the old, familiar smell of dirt and water. The stench was strong, and gravity pulled heavily on his body.
As he moved closer, Ryan could hear cries of sad despair from the ungodliness evil demons who roamed about, looking for their next soul to confuse, depress, or destroy.
“Keep going,” Christ spoke to him from heaven. “Stay focused. To your left is North America, and you can find Kansas. Look for a nice place to rest while you wait for night to fall and then enter the city.”
Ryan continued dropping closer to earth and banked left. He saw the sunlight glistening on the Atlantic Ocean and then rivers that sprawled across the land like crippled fingers.
Cities dotted the landscape. Then he could see a huge golden mass spread across the land like peanut butter on bread, only this golden mass swayed in unison with the wind. Ryan’s grin stretched from ear to ear. He had found his way to Kansas, where the golden fields of wheat reflected earth’s sunlight on his face.
He touched down beside a narrow river and decided to take his rest there. It would be easy to find Keyota once dusk arrived and darkness set in. The glow of the streetlights, aircraft-manufacturing plants, and the many landing strips would lead him to where his job awaited.
But for now, Ryan wet his feet in the river and skipped small, flat rocks across the water while he waited on the sandy shore.