Murder of Crows (Book One of The Icarus Trilogy) (11 page)

“Carver,” Eric interrupted.

“Right,” Patrick continued.  “But there were two of these guys that made me proud to be a Crow, today,” he said, ending with a pause.

“Oh, I can guess who those are,” Frank said with a fake smile.  Patrick looked at him with mild annoyance.  Douglas wished the old man still had his mind.  He could see himself liking what the veteran would say.

“I’m sure you could, Franklyn.  It’s pretty obvious that I’m talking about Feldman and Jenkins.  Those two were quite the pair.”

“They definitely were.  I’m not sure who was more impressive today,” Eric said in agreement.  Douglas thought he saw the man not faking it for once, but he shook his head at the consideration.

“My vote has to be with Feldman.  That guy is a monster.  I’m sure he’s a nice guy but with all that stuff he hauls around he’s a huge target.  And here he gets absolutely destroyed by four of the Hawks,” Franklyn started as Feldman was battered by hundreds of bullets on the screen.  “Then,” he continued, “the guy picks himself up and kills everybody who had, basically, killed him and he does it with ONE SWING!  He’s just a monster.  I would
never
want to fight that guy.”

“Pretty sure you won’t have to.  But you have to consider Jenkins,” Eric said as he waved his hand in an empty gesture.  “He’s only been in five games so far and he’s still considered a rookie, but he showed his mettle today.  He really stepped up and led the Crows in their standoff in Sudden Death.  Sometimes things just click and then we get to see something like this.  I can’t wait to see what Jenkins becomes with just a little more experience,” Eric retorted.  He seemed to be genuinely interested in the young soldier.  The background televisions were showing how Jenkins had killed the lone Hawk he had encountered on his way to his compatriots.  The young Crow had grabbed the boy from behind and pumped a few rounds into the man’s midsection.  The boy fell and Jenkins moved on.  Franklyn just waved off Eric’s statement.

“Yeah, but Jenkins had Carver and Warner backing him up the whole way.  It’s easy to be brave when you have one of the most veteran soldiers giving you support and, well, one of the craziest men I’ve ever seen,” Franklyn replied. 
Looks like he identifies with the asteroid farmer who has nothing in common with him
, Douglas thought. 
Or he really likes the muscles
.

“Backup from Carver or not, Jenkins stood up.  He got them to move and keep fighting and in the thick of it you don’t get a chance for composure or rational thinking, Franklyn,” Patrick started with a tone of disapproval.  “That he was able to get them to pull together with so little experience is a true testament to his character.  And because of their gamble leaving Cortes behind to live they were able to grab victory even with the odds stacked against them.  Jenkins was a true soldier out there today.  That doesn’t come from mindlessly killing the people who had already shot you.  Feldman’s act was impressive.  Jenkins showed us potential while taking victory,” Patrick ended with a gruff voice.  Sometimes the old man had a lucid moment and he would speak his own brand of wisdom.  Douglas loved it when the soldier shamed them all.

“Yeah, but Feldman’s all show business,” Franklyn broke the silence with laughter and threw his hands up.  “Not saying Jenkins didn’t show his stripes, Pat.  I just like to side with my man, Feldman.”  His plastic smile gave no hint of the apprehension he felt.  Patrick scowled at the man, but soon enough turned his face down and huffed.  Douglas could see the production managers soundlessly screaming at each other and trying to cue up some sort of commercial break.  Jamie Caswell, the lead producer, was glaring at Eric and telling the lead anchor to take control.  The false man nodded with his eyes and turned to the camera.

“Well, we can always bring this to the people.  How about you guys call in or message us and tell us your favorite part of the match.  We’ll start answering them on air right after these commercials,” Eric said with his face beaming at the camera.  They were all beaming except Patrick.  Douglas was almost too distracted by the display in front of him to notice that Jamie had turned to him and was motioning for him to read off the announcement in front of him.  Almost.  The announcer noiselessly cleared his throat and read off the display.

“We’ll be right back with the best show on television.  Be sure to send your messages to our website or call in to the
War World
phone line.  You better not change the channel; you don’t want to miss what happens next.  This program is brought to you by McCoy’s,
Feeding the whole system
, and Future Bionics,
The Future is You
.”

Douglas sighed and watched Jamie Caswell walk over from the office and start to scold Patrick for his outburst.  Douglas couldn’t blame the old Crow for speaking his mind; not when it was something worth hearing.  Unfortunately Jamie Caswell with his slicked-back black hair and his tailored suit decided if anything was worth hearing. 
They’ll probably cut it out of the broadcast tonight,
Douglas thought. 
Fuckin’ shame
.

He watched as Caswell walked back to the assistant production manager and chewed him out for not preparing Patrick for the broadcast.  War World Entertainment didn’t like people speaking their minds.  Douglas shook his head as he walked over to the break room and up to the coffee machine.  He could see through the window that Patrick was just sitting there looking at the screen. 
Poor guy must miss it
, Douglas thought. 

Patrick was the only one that Douglas liked.  He absolutely despised Franklyn, who was currently ignoring Samantha’s advances.  She was trying really hard to bark up the wrong tree and get into his wallet.  If anybody actually liked her company they would have told her that Franklyn was gay.  Instead they just laughed at her for not noticing.

Douglas was in the process of stirring cream and sugar into his coffee when he felt someone reach his side.  He looked out of the corner of his eye and saw Eric making his own cup of coffee.  Douglas tried to ignore him and continued stirring his coffee.

“Damn shame when that happens,” Eric said in a display of courtesy.  Douglas heard the man speak and restrained the urge to roll his eyes.

“The thing with Patrick?” he asked.  The announcer was stuck in the conversation in any case.  He might as well help it along.

“Mhmm, I hate it when they talk down to him,” Eric stated. 
You’re one to talk, you asshole,
Douglas thought.

“Yeah, well, they have to make sure he says all the right things,” Douglas said without condoning a single act.  He just had to toe the company line.

“Sounded like the right thing to me,” Eric said while stirring his own coffee.  That caught Douglas by surprise.  He looked over and cocked his head at Eric, who was still looking down.  Douglas’ movement caught his notice, however, and he lifted an eyebrow.  “What, I can’t agree with the man?”  Douglas looked him over and shook his head a bit.

“Sorry, I just didn’t expect that from you.  My impression was always that you care more about the paycheck,” Douglas half-heartedly criticized.  He had his own paycheck to feel guilty about.

“Of course I care about that, but that Jenkins kid reminds me of a cousin I had once.  I just have to feel for the guys down on that fucked-up asteroid every once in a while,” he said while looking at Patrick.  Douglas joined his gaze to watch the old man.  He was a half-formed relic.  It was sad that the old man in front of them was the best any of those kids could hope for.

“They do have it pretty bad.  But like I said, I just don’t expect that from you, that’s all,” Douglas said before sipping on his coffee.  He’d screwed it up and made it too sweet, but he wanted the caffeine anyway. 

“You don’t have to hate me, you know.  I’m not as bad as Jamie.  I just talk up there. 
You
know the difference, I think,” Eric said before heading back to his desk.  Douglas did what he could to come back to his senses; that last comment stung a bit.  He walked to his own station to wait for the end of the commercial break.  The makeup people were buzzing about the talking heads now, trying to prepare them for the next segment.  Douglas could see the wistfulness in Patrick’s eyes fade as he was patted down with makeup.  It made him think about the whole situation in the studio.  It made him think about all those poor souls down there on Eris.

It’s just stupid, that’s what it is
, Douglas thought before reading off the next sponsor’s message.

-

Darkness again.  He was engulfed by it.  If he could move he couldn’t feel it.  His senses were absent and all he could do was think.

At least he knew what had happened this time.

Jenkins waited.  It was a jarring and uneasy awakening, but at least this time there was no religious experience; no crisis of existence.  He knew he just had to wait and the light would break; he would be reintroduced into the world.  There was no purgatory for him.  Not the abstract kind, anyway.

The newborn Crow had no concept of real time in his prison.  He could have been awake a minute, maybe ten.  He had no real way of knowing and the torrent of thoughts racing through his mind did not help.

It was interminable and he started to doubt his assertions.  Maybe he
was
feeling true death this time around.  Maybe that sense of security was being proven false.  He started to panic.

The light came eventually.  Jenkins felt much more at ease with its presence; he felt fortunate and grateful for that light.  Dread soon followed.  The whole painful process was coming around again.  A small part of him didn’t want to leave his cell.

Jenkins realized he didn’t have a choice.

He was angry he was in this situation.  He was furious that he’d been tricked into this perpetual cycle of dying and painful rebirth.  He was livid that he had no chance to really escape.

The worst part was waking up in the darkness.  It seemed especially unfair that he had to suffer this twice, now.  Dr. Kane had told him it was rare.  She told him that she was sorry and that it wouldn’t happen again.  The first time was just a statistical anomaly.

Even the nice ones were lying to him.  He wanted to scream.  He wanted to throw his fists against the glass and fight the world.  He couldn’t scream; he had a breathing tube stuck in his throat.  He couldn’t break the glass; his arms were too weak.  There was nothing worse than being angry and not being able to do a thing about it.  Ryan Jenkins was a grown man and had no agency in his own life.  His last stand on the battlefield seemed so silly now.  He would always end up here.

He continued to wait for the growing light in front of him.  He hung there in the two restraints in his Plexiglas tube.  It was his only option; that’s what he thought.

But he realized he was wrong.  There was something he could do.  It wasn’t rational; it wasn’t logical, but he had all these thoughts about how he could have brain damage and not even know it.  It might be better just to try again.  And it was something; it was in his control.  He could assert himself into his life; into his deaths.  He had a choice.

He grabbed at the breathing tube, or tried to.  His arms were weak and he could barely muster the effort to raise them, but after a strenuous moment he brought them behind his neck.  He felt around his head for the straps and restraints.  It was a trial; he could barely feel anything, but even in his numb and desensitized state he could sense the pieces that weren’t part of him.  He grabbed at the strap and lifted it around his head.  He wanted this.

Jenkins yanked out the tube and prepared to drown.

-

Carver had a unique flair to him.  Even with this new body absent facial hair or calluses the man gave off a gruff and weathered air.  Charlotte Kane wondered at the man.  He’d been through the process so many times that he didn’t even want the usual treatment; he usually wanted to leave as soon as he exited his cell.  The good doctor enjoyed the change of pace.  The old Crow seemed to accept his place; seemed to not be bothered by the process.  It made the job easier; it made her conscience feel lighter.

Before Dr. Kane had ever started to work at the clinic Carver had made it clear he would never take any of their sedatives or drugs.  Early in his career Hawkins had made the mistake of trying to administer Carver with something or other.  Carver had thrown the smaller man onto the floor and stepped on his throat.  When she heard about it the good doctor had to laugh at the image.  It was just another act that endeared him to Charlotte.

She was outlining his exercise program to him when the alarms started to go off in the resurrection chamber.  Charlotte could see Hawkins scrambling with controls through the clear windows and that made her even more anxious.  The smile on her face vanished.

“You better go.  Wouldn’t trust that guy for anything, hun,” Carver said.  Charlotte agreed under her breath and rushed to the other room.  She burst through the doors to see Hawkins furiously tapping the display overlay.

“What happened?”

“One of those damn soldiers screwed up the process.  Messed up his airway somehow,” Hawkins said, more focused on trying to move the cell into the chamber.

“Which soldier?” Charlotte asked while trying to read the name for herself on the display.  She figured it would be faster, given Hawkins’ proclivities.

“Does it matter?” Hawkins rhetorically asked.  The loading bay opened up in front of them and he seemed to calm down a bit.  He kept tapping the screen in front of him to prepare the resurrection machines.

“You idiot, don’t get that out.  Get the crash unit out instead,” Charlotte urged.  He glared at her, but quickly started the process for the crash unit, not willing to say that he had been wrong.  The machines that were coming out of the wall started to retreat back.  Dr. Kane continued to scan down the screen for the patient’s name.  She had a sinking feeling in her gut.  Most of the Crows had already been through the resurrection process and were in therapy.  She hoped it wasn’t the same one.