Phoenix Rising (Book Two of The Icarus Trilogy) (56 page)

“No….no!” he heard from the corner behind him.  He knew that Charlotte cared for him; he had been one of the men who had led her into this revolution.  Laurence had asked her to do such terrible things, but he never wanted that for her.  As he pulled the trigger of his weapon he realized how truly fond of the woman he really was.  It was just like his daughter was back with him.

The bullet landed in the shoulder joint of the oncoming Hammerhead.  Laurence could hear the grunt from the man twenty meters away and wondered why the man was so suicidal and resistant to pain.  He probably thought he was going to get resurrected after this.  As soon as the thought finished in his head, Laurence felt the muscles around his knee starting to tear; he realized that the man had aimed well.  The knee joint was one of the few weaknesses of the EOSF armor.

Laurence fell to his knee but re-centered his aim on the man’s torso before pulling the trigger.  He ignored the pain and watched as another round entered into the ribcage of his opponent. 
How remarkable
, he thought as the man continued to run forward.  That was when Laurence felt another round enter into his left shoulder, rendering the arm useless.  His opponent knew exactly what he was doing.

“Stop it!”

                -

Roth could feel the burning of the bullets in his diaphragm and knew he was going to die no matter what.  He pushed his mind from the thought and focused on his promise.  The woman was not going to die here; not like this.

“Stop it!” the woman yelled from the corner, huddled on her hands and knees and looking at the two warriors.  Roth was curious, but he didn’t allow himself to give into it.  He had to remove the threat.  He aimed his pistol at the man’s head but as he pulled the trigger he felt a burning in his left leg, the pain of which caused him to shoot just to the left of the corporate thug’s head.  He lost his balance and tumbled a bit before realizing that the EOSF soldier had seen fit to mimic the former Crow’s first shot.  Percival had to respect the man’s skill; perhaps this should have been his rival all along.

Roth did what he could to roll back up to a ready position and steadied his aim.  He only had one bullet left.  He let himself look at the beautiful doctor once more and breathed out quickly.  The would-be hero knew this was right; this was what Jenkins had been talking about.

                -

Laurence was about to congratulate himself but realized too late that it was a foolish prospect.  The slave soldier’s bullet burst through the right side of the old revolutionary’s neck and Laurence knew he was about to die.  It would only take a few seconds for his life’s blood to pour out of his carotid artery.  This was the soldier’s last moment.

The revolutionary brought up his rifle one last time and centered it on the young man’s head.  He had enough time to wonder why the slave soldier had removed his helmet, but he realized as the black crept in from the outside of his vision that it didn’t really matter.  He had to make this count.

Laurence pulled the trigger before passing out; before he was able to see the bullet hit the Hammerhead in the center of the forehead and the young man’s head snap back from the force.  He fell to the ground and the sound of his impact was echoed by that of his opponent.

Before he died, Laurence hoped that the woman would have a life full of happiness.  That’s what mattered to him.

-

“No!  No, no, no, no, no, no!”

Charlotte crawled over to the old revolutionary, completely ignoring the pain in her leg.  She had tried to stop them; she had tried to cry out and end their duel, but she had failed.  Now two men who were trying to protect her were dead in her name.  The good doctor rushed over to the man in the sleek, black armor and flicked at the clasps to the man’s helmet.  She tore the helmet off and looked at Laurence’s lifeless face, his pale eyes hidden behind heavy eyelids.  Though he looked at peace, Charlotte felt like she had killed her own uncle.  She was responsible, yet again. 

“Doc, come here!” Goldstein yelled behind her, but Charlotte didn’t hear the man.  She held the older revolutionary’s face for a moment before rushing over to the corpse of her other protector.  She hobbled a bit on her mangled leg, but she didn’t care at all.  When she fell to the ground of the hallway and slid in Percival’s blood, she didn’t even notice she was sobbing.  Laurence’s last bullet had hit the former Crow right between the eyes and there was no chance to save the man.  Charlotte Kane was about to bury her face in her hands before she brought them into her vision.  They were covered in blood, and she knew that it was from two men.

Two men who had died for her.

“Doc!  It’s over, we gotta get you back!” Goldstein shouted from the corner.  He half-ran over to the woman and wondered how he was going to pull her out of this emotional maelstrom.  He had liked Laurence, too, but his reaction wasn’t even close to Charlotte’s. 

“I did this,” she said softly, her world falling around her.  If only she had told them about Roth; if only she had shouted out sooner.

If only she hadn’t stayed behind to resurrect Haywick.

“Charlotte, we have to go.  Laurence was a great man, I know, but being out here-” Goldstein started, but he was unable to speak when the compassionate woman turned to face him.  He could tell just from looking at her eyes that Laurence was only part of the problem.

“It’s Roth, Zachary.  Percival Roth.  Your old teammate.  He,” she said as she turned back to poor man who had promised to keep her safe.  His eyes were still staring down the hallway and Charlotte forced herself to close the hero’s eyes.  “He saved me, Zachary.  He saved me from the other Hammerhead and the EOSF.  He gave me the time to get here.  Oh…God,” she said as new tears sprang after the old.  “Zachary, they killed each other trying to protect me,” she said as she looked down at her blood-covered hands once more.

Goldstein reeled from the revelation.  He recognized the Hammerhead, now.  Roth had never been a good soldier when he had been on the Crows, but Goldstein had heard that the man had made strides over the last two weeks.  His heart sank as he realized what the doctor was truly going through.  Four men had died because of her, and although she was rather strong, no one could really come back from that.  The merchant sighed and looked at the woman at his feet.  She would have to grieve later, especially if the EOSF were right at their doorstep.   He knelt down and picked up the woman, who looked at him in confusion.

“Then we can’t waste it, doc.  We’re getting you out of here,” he said as he retreated to the corner, where Feldman and Abrams were waiting.  He could see from their faces that they had realized the horror of what had just happened in front of them.  Goldstein hadn’t thought it possible, but the titan seemed even more somber.  He looked at them as he held the raven-haired doctor in his arms and shrugged.

“I mean…. Shit, guys.  What are we gonna do here?” Goldstein asked.  For the first time the former merchant didn’t know what the best course of action was.  He had never really been the hero type.  Goldstein felt like he was on shifting ground.

“Take her to Ryan and the others.  It’s a more defensible position.  They’d be able to take care of her,” Feldman said while straightening up to his full height.  Goldstein glared at the man and shook his head.

“Greg, we can’t leave here.  We’re supposed to hold this position, we can’t let them get flanked, and with Laurence gone it’s gonna be even har-”

“You’re going.  I’m staying,” Feldman interrupted, making sure not to show any weakness.  He was grateful that his comrades weren’t able to see the blood that was still flowing out of his wounds.  The giant had been prepared for something like this.  Goldstein shook his head in shock before glaring at his giant friend.

“That’s insane!  And stop interrupting me, I don’t like it.  I’m not leaving you here alone,” Goldstein stated, but he could see Abrams rise from the corner of his eye and looked at the warrior woman.

“He won’t be.  I’ll be here to help,” Abrams said, lending her support to the giant, but without even looking at her Feldman let his voice boom around them.

“No, you won’t.  You’re both going.  I can defend this myself,” Feldman said, trying to assert himself.  These two didn’t need to die with him; they would have a better chance with the others.  Especially Abrams; not with what he had seen.  He did what he could not to look at her and wondered how it happened, but he knew there was no way he was going to let her stay.  Abrams was glaring at the giant in fury and forced him to look at her by walking into his gaze.

“The fuck you can.  I can throw grenades.  I’m not going to let you die like this, Gregory!”  She shouted, expecting some angry retort, but the giant merely turned his head slowly to look directly in her eyes.  His gaze softened and Abrams noticed that his right eye was pale, now.

“Yes, you are, Jessica.  This is my fight.  And I’m not going to let you endanger two lives just so you can throw a grenade,” he said with sincere compassion.  Abrams looked at him in confusion and shook her head.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” she asked, but Feldman just looked at her and sighed.

“You’re a smart girl, Jess.  You figure it out.  But more importantly, you figure it out while you’re sitting with the others in the mess hall.  Your grenades aren’t going to help me,” he said before walking over to the middle of the hallway and setting the point of his blade against the floor.  “I’m not going to argue.”

Goldstein looked at the giant and realized this was one of his foolish little fantasies of heroism, but he couldn’t help but feel admiration for the farmer from Osmos.  This was exactly like one of those last showdowns in all those books he read.  The merchant smiled and shook his head before walking over to the warrior woman.

“He ain’t moving, Jess, and he’s got a point.  One grenade?  Not really gonna help,” he said, watching the woman turn her gaze to him and give him a questioning look.  Goldstein wondered if he would ever know what Feldman had found out.

“You live, Feldman.  You live so I can kick your ass later,” Abrams said before turning and running back to the mess hall.  She didn’t know what the giant was talking about, but she would just have to ask him later.  Goldstein looked over his shoulder, the doctor almost comatose in his arms, and decided to tell the giant the truth.

“You might be the best man I’ve ever met, Gregory.”  Without turning the giant sighed and continued to look down the hallway.

“I’ll try to be worthy of that, Zachary.  That’s all I can promise.”

“That’s more than enough, Greg.  More than enough,” Goldstein said before he started into a light jog to the south.  He wondered if the giant really understood the consequences of his actions.

Feldman looked down the hallway, afraid for the first time in his life.  This was the last time he would be able to swing this sword; the last time he would be able to give his life; the last time he would be able to shout out his character to the universe.

He prayed for the first time in years, holding his sword against the ground.  The giant prayed that somewhere down the line, some man would be inspired.  He knew that he probably wouldn’t live to see it, but he prayed that his life would have its meaning.

Feldman hoped that one day he would have his echo, even if it was after his time.

-

He had never wanted this.  Jenkins had wanted to be dead, but now he was about to become the poster child of a revolution.  He had been forced into it, but now he just had to deal with the situation.  The newborn Crow just had to accept that he was going to be a part of it, even if it was against his wishes.

That’s what bothered him so much about all the men who had given up around him.  So what if the EOSF were coming?  If anybody had a right to completely disintegrate it was Ryan; nobody else could come close to claiming that.  For Templeton to just swoon and give up was enough to make the messiah figure angry.  If he was going to die like this, they were all going to fight.  That’s what Jenkins had decided.

It didn’t mean he had to like it.  Behind his grim determination Jenkins wished he could go back to being in the void.  He wished that he could go back to being a regular man; he wished that he could go back to New Chicago.

He shook himself out of that line of thinking and instead focused on the task at hand.  Without Laurence it was just him, Carver and Templeton left to defend the mess hall.  They couldn’t hold the front entrance anymore.  Jenkins looked over at the wounded revolutionary in the corner, moaning next to the unconscious official.  Albert was still alive, but the Hammerhead had relieved the oaf of his arm below the elbow.  Jenkins shook his head at that; he knew that kind of pain.  But in Jenkins’ case he had been given a new arm only a few hours later.  Albert had to learn to live without.  The messiah figure didn’t envy the man.

“So we have a situation,” Goldstein piped up over Comms. 
What now?
Jenkins thought as he breathed in sharply through his nose.  He put his hand up to his helmet and responded.

“What now?” he echoed with his voice, unable to consider any other question.  The newborn Crow was tired of these constant problems.  He started to feel anxiety whenever he heard the former merchant’s voice.

“Laurence is dead.  Bit of a faux pas with another soldier.  Cortes and…. your clone... they’re dead, too.  I do have some good news, though,” Goldstein said, his voice lifting up slightly.  Jenkins put his hand out to one of the nearby barricades to steady himself.  He had hoped that his predecessor had made it, but this was a natural outcome.  Ryan would just have to grieve later; there was too much happening to focus on right now.

“We don’t have time for games, Goldstein,” Jenkins said in a soft voice.  He was doing his best not to remember the artificial man’s smile.  Ryan felt like he had lost a part of himself.

“I have Charlotte,” Goldstein said curtly.  Jenkins sniffed back the tears he held for his clone and the Spaniard and tried to focus on the good of this situation.  He had never known Laurence, he wished he had, and the other two deaths were blows to his conscience, but Jenkins was relieved that the doctor was safe.  His heart seemed lighter for it.