Phoenix Rising (Book Two of The Icarus Trilogy) (59 page)

“You shouldn’t feel bad, mate.  They knew what they were gettin’ into.  We just gotta move on, you know?”  Jenkins looked up at the Englishman and gave a sad smile.  The jester held his own fair share of misplaced guilt, he had only broken a rib and lost consciousness after being blown off the roof, but Jenkins had to shake his head at the man’s remarks.

“Roberts died for me, Norris.  Feldman died fighting, but Roberts threw himself on the grenade for me.  It was my fault,” Jenkins said as he turned his gaze back to the corpse of his tortured friend.  He couldn’t cry anymore, his body wouldn’t let him, but he wanted to.  The messiah figure wanted to dissolve into his misery.

“You’ll get past it, Jenkins, believe me.  I know you don’t think so, but Roberts knew what he was doing.  He could have just kicked the thing away, but he chose to protect you,” the Englishman started.

“That’s exactly wha-”

“He
chose
to protect you, rookie,” the jester said, far more serious than his usual manner.  The newborn Crow looked up at his comrade and saw that the grin that usually twisted the Englishman’s face was absent.  “Roberts could have run away.  He could have stayed hiding in some room, but he gave his life for you.  We all know that he was swallowed up in that pain of his, Ryan.  Maybe it was for the best.  He got to die a hero,” he said before removing his gloved hand from Jenkins’ shoulder.  Ryan turned to his friend with tears in his eyes before laughing in his misery.

“It seems the only use for heroes these days is their dying,” he said before looking back at the broken boy soldier.  Norris sniffed and let out a heavy breath at that.  There was no response for it.

“Look, Ryan.  We have to leave soon.  I’m going to go get on that shuttle and sit down next to my lady.  Take time to grieve over these guys, they deserve it, but remember that the living need you, too,” the Englishman said before turning and heading towards the transport forty meters away.  Jenkins watched the Crow as he left, but soon turned back to the two corpses in front of him.

He closed his eyes and wondered if he was going to be able to fulfill his promise.  In the moment he had resolved to be Feldman’s echo, but now that the fight was over he didn’t know if he had the strength for it.  The giant had been more than a man, but now he was a corpse.  And it was all because Jenkins didn’t have the ability to save him.

The messiah figure stood and walked along the line of corpses outside the Crows’ barracks.  The able-bodied revolutionaries from the transport had gathered the nearby bodies in an attempt to give their last respects, but there were still so many missing.  The absence which had hurt Jenkins the most was that of his clone.  The bodies of the artificial Jenkins and Cortes were still lying there in that sterile clinic; no one had enough time to retrieve them.  That didn’t stop Ryan from thinking about the man who had been created to replace him, but instead was replaced by him.  The newborn Crow added that guilt to the rest.

Jenkins had noticed her before, but as he walked along the line of dead men he finally came within a few meters of Dr. Charlotte Kane.  The woman was kneeling in the dirt, no concern given to the white lab coat spread around her.  He could tell that she had already spent all of her tears as well, but as Ryan looked at the soldier lying next to Laurence he couldn’t quite place the name.  The Hammerhead did seem awfully familiar, though.

“Hey,” she said quietly, not able to look Ryan in the eye.  She could only look at her saviors side by side with their killers.  Charlotte didn’t know if she would ever get past that event; the guilt would probably stay with her for the rest of her life.  For now, all she could do was look into the face of Percival Roth.

“H-hey,” Jenkins replied, unable to avoid his usual awkwardness.  He crouched down beside the beautiful doctor and considered a dozen different conversations.  The messiah figure didn’t know what was appropriate and he looked over at the raven-haired woman.  He was overtaken with the desire to set his hand against her face, but he decided against it.

“Do you remember him, Ryan?” she asked, all strength and conviction gone from her voice.  The young messiah figure looked the soldier over again, knowing that there was a reason he seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.

“I can’t, Charlotte.  I want to; I’ve definitely seen him before, but I don’t know his name,” Jenkins admitted before looking at the young soldier.  The open wound in the center of the man’s forehead was disturbing, but otherwise the Hammerhead looked quite serene.

“He was an old teammate of yours.  His name was Percival Roth.  He got traded away a couple weeks before you… before you,” she said, a single tear rolling down her cheek.  She wondered how she had been able to shed another one.

“Oh…” Jenkins said, finally realizing that this corpse used to be a man who lived in the same building; who ate the same meals.

“He…. saved me, Ryan.  When Cortes and …. the other Jenkins died, he took up their mission,” she said, her voice faltering in the end.  She sniffed and did her best to control her emotions before looking at the newborn Crow.  He was looking at the dead soldier in front of him, but soon enough he turned and made eye contact with her.  The two of them stared for a moment, each feeling a mountain of emotion, but Charlotte broke the silence and turned her gaze back to the fallen hero.

“Even at the end, before he and Laurence… he took on three of those EOSF.  And you know what’s crazy, Ryan?” she asked before laughing in her despair.  “He looked up to you.  He didn’t know it was the other Jenkins, but he looked up to your hero persona,” she said before she looked back into the eyes of the newborn Crow.  “He just wanted to be somebody; he wanted to be the best he could.  And now…” she said before sinking into herself and looking at her hands.  She had wiped off the blood, but there still seemed to be a red tint to the skin.  The good doctor was still looking at them as a gloved hand reached over and held both of them.  Charlotte looked back up and saw that Jenkins was looking at her with tear-rimmed eyes.

“Then I owe him a debt, just like all the others.  But we can’t help them here,” Jenkins said, knowing that he could move on, now.  He had to.  Wallowing in his grief would not help anyone.  The only way he could honor these dead men was to create the world that they had fought for but would never get to see.  The messiah figure stood up, helping the beautiful woman to her feet, and looked her in those brown eyes of her.  There were a thousand things he wanted to say to her, but it wasn’t the right time for it.

“It’s time to go, Charlotte.  Let’s get out of her and honor them the best we can,” he said before starting to walk to the transport.  He had expected to guide her there, but he felt resistance from the woman and stopped in his tracks.  Charlotte stood there and looked up at him with sadness.

“I…. I know, Ryan,” she said, knowing that she wanted to follow him and get off of this planet.  She knew that if she followed him that she would be able to deal with anything; she knew that this was what she had wanted all along.  But she couldn’t admit that, now.  It was selfish.  “But I can’t.”  The newborn looked at her with confusion, but she broke eye contact and looked at her feet; she couldn’t look him in the eye while she said this.

“It’s not that… I don’t want to.  But Albert’s hurt really bad.  He needs medical attention; the kind that I can give him in the clinic.  And O’Brian needs help, too.  I’ll just have to wait until the next transport and then… then I can meet you on Earth,” she said as she turned her gaze back up to the messiah figure.  She couldn’t let any more people die today.  He had to understand that.  And as she looked back up into the eyes of the man she had brought back to life she knew that he did.  Jenkins gave her a knowing, sad smile and backed away.

“Oh…that makes sense,” he said as he brought his hand to the back of his neck and stood awkwardly.  He looked at the raven-haired woman and wondered how she would react if he stepped forward and kissed her, but Jenkins shoved the thought from his mind.  It was just inappropriate.  “I guess….”

“I’ll see you back there,” Charlotte said, a hopeful smile on her face.  She had wished that the newborn soldier would have hugged her or done something, but she knew that would have been selfish of them.  Their friends were lying dead at their feet.

Jenkins turned away from the beautiful doctor and walked towards the transport.  Soon he would tell her how he felt; soon he would be able to confront his own, personal fears.  But this wasn’t the time for it.  Jenkins would find his way off-planet and if he found the time for it he would confess his feelings.

After all, he was free.  Now he had plenty of time.

-

Douglas Finnegan had never felt such pain in his life.  As he hung from the shackles attached to his wrists, he wondered when his torturer would finally get bored and let him die.  But as he lifted his head, issuing a dozen echoes of pain throughout his neck and shoulders, he could see the well-kept man smiling maliciously.

“You are
quite
the specimen, Mr. Finnegan.  Overweight, sniveling and most importantly, seemingly not important at all.  I gotta say, I’m very impressed with how you were able to make it this far, but we have your number, now.  We know
exactly
who you are,” Edwards said as he slipped on his sterilized plastic glove and then grabbed the scalpel from the medical tray.

“I’m not….. I’m not gonna say anything,” Douglas said between painful breaths.  The man was an expert and had worked on the former announcer in a number of ways, but one of the first things he had done to the revolutionary was to break all of his ribs.  Not in a way that would puncture his lungs, but enough that any movement in his torso would be met with excruciating pain.

Douglas was ready to die, but he knew he had to keep the ruse going.  When Edwards had let it slip that he had already killed Jamie, the announcer had been filled with despair.  Even as the well-dressed blonde-haired man had torn into him with the knives, Douglas could only think of his deceased hero.  But he knew, even as he ignored his tormentor’s questions, what Jamie had planned.  It was a cruel thing, but Douglas knew it was too important to see wasted.  Douglas had accepted his role and become the organizer of their announcement on
War World
.  Now he just had to pay the price.

The overweight announcer screamed as Edwards sliced across his right eye with the scalpel.  He had not expected the move and as the pain battered against his brain he could at least feel some comfort.  If Edwards was already going for his eyes that meant that he had to be losing his patience.  Douglas hoped for death; hoped that it would come soon.

“Amazing what the human body can endure with just a little extra help.  You got a handy blood type there, Doug.  AB?  You’re a universal receiver.  We don’t even have to find anything special in order to keep you alive.  Do you understand what I’m saying?” Edwards asked as he brought his face closed to Douglas’ own.  The announcer could only see out of the one eye, but the sight was completely terrifying.  Edwards was at home in this room; this was just another day at the office for him.

“The information I have….” Douglas said before looking down at his feet.  He had to make his life worth something.  “It’s too valuable.  I’m not going to let you have it.”  Edwards backed up from his victim with a smile before taking out a cigarette package from his pocket.  He patted the pack a few times before withdrawing the stick of tobacco and set it between his lips.  The blonde-haired tormentor brought out a matchbook from the other pocket and then flicked open the book, igniting a match with the same motion and lifted the bright orange flame upwards, surrounding the cigarette.

“You know what I’ve learned, after all these years?  The more a person says that they’re not going to tell you something, the better it is after they do.  It doesn’t even have to be anything important.  It’s like… it’s like the effort you put into it makes it seem so much more rewarding once you have it.  I guess I’m just easily satisfied,” Edwards said before he closed the distance and then held the still-burning match up to Douglas’ chest.  As he screamed, he could already feel the skin bubbling against the flame and he wondered how long he could hold out.

“I love having a whole stable of doctors to help me out with troublesome guys like you, Finnegan.  It makes me feel like I have a safety net, you know?  And there’s another thing I learned over these years.  You know what that is?”  Douglas lifted his head slightly and glared at the torturer, still smiling as he put the book back into his pocket.

“That you’re a first grade cunt?” Finnegan asked, thinking that he could at least express his opinion.  The sadist laughed at that and shook his head.

“I don’t mind when people speak the truth, you know.  But here’s the real lesson, Doug.  I learned that if people don’t know
where
they’re going to hurt that it just hurts all the more.  You understand that?” Edwards said, lifting his eyebrows and expecting a response.  When Douglas didn’t bother to give him one, Edwards sighed and then brought the scalpel across the other eye.

As he was absorbed into the pain, Douglas was also absorbed into the darkness.  Douglas fell into despair as he realized he would never see again.  He would never live a normal life, even if he did get out of this terrible prison.  But then he realized that never was possible.  The cavalry was already coming too late.  The fingers from his left hand were gone; his right leg was missing below the mid-thigh.  Douglas Finnegan was a broken, useless thing.  He only had to wait until Edwards threw him away.

“Now we can get to work, Doug.  Now you can tell me everything I want to know,” Edwards said, his voice echoing throughout the room.  Without his sight Douglas didn’t know where the man was, but he couldn’t help but smile in that darkness.

“Alright…. Edwards…. I can tell you something.”

“Oh, and what’s that?” Douglas’ tormentor said from the nothingness.  Douglas lifted his head and hoped that the blonde-haired man had a full view of his smiling, bleeding face.  He hoped that Edwards was looking straight into his bloody, eviscerated eyes.