The Suns of Liberty (Book 2): Revolution (36 page)

Across the street, Clay Arbor
stepped from the shadows. It was the first Revolution knew for certain he had
escaped the mêlée at the War Zone. “We call it the Man-O-War. You don't want to
know why.” Arbor grinned maliciously.

“We don't have a choice,”
Revolution said, peering back up at the massive machine dominating the heavens
above him. A flying skyscraper.

“You've always got a choice,
sweetheart.” Arbor glanced up. “Better make it now.”

The Man-O-War dropped on them in a
flash. It was like a small city attacking. It barely fit between the buildings
on either side of the Square. There was no use in fleeing. Its monstrous size
made escape impossible. Sophia charged her bracelets and grimaced up at the
behemoth. “I've got this!” she said as she launched herself at the massive
machine.

Ward just watched her with
incredulity. “Shit!” he said as he watched her go. All he wanted to do was run,
but he was too afraid to even do that. And yet she had just launched herself
right into the heart of the fury. It seemed like certain death to him.

But somehow, it also made him
stronger.

Ward turned to Revolution. “What
can I do?”

Even the Revolution was in awe. It
took him a second to register the question. Then Revolution reached into his
belt. Yanked out a handful of throwing stars. Charged with energy, they were
the last the Resistance had.

“You want me to throw cutlery at
it?”

Revolution just cocked his head.

Ward took them, swallowed hard,
peered up, and zipped into the air. “Oh my Gaaaaaaaawd!” he screamed as his
thrusters sent him hurtling toward the massive monster.

Sophia pointed her bracelets at
the machine and fired her blasters into the heart of the dome. The energy
slammed into Man-O-War and fingered across its expanse in blue lightning. A
purple “bruise” spread over its face. She smiled.

Ward was circling the giant robot.
A tentacle the size of a city light pole whipped at him with blinding speed. It
would take the best flying of his life to avoid being cut in half. A sharp
sting in his side caused him to grunt, and he knew his stitches had
ripped.  The warm, sticky flow of blood trickled down his side. Ward tried
to ignore it and flung a shuriken at the dome; it glowed with the luminescence
and sliced into the machine, leaving a small cut in the radiant metallic
surface.

Revolution watched as a cluster of
tentacles lowered to the street; they swung toward him, and he ducked their
powerful blow. Another tentacle swung low across the boulevard, ripping out the
glass and concrete of a skyscraper's lobby and flinging the debris at
Revolution, who ducked again and watched it all zoom over his head. It
shattered into the street behind him. He charged the machine. Glowing spikes
jutted out from his wrists as he sprinted full force.

A tentacle whipped toward him.
Just what he wanted. He timed a swing perfectly, striking the metal just as it
slammed him. Sparks and steel blasted off the machine as a burst of light
haloed at the point of impact. The tentacle sliced off, and immediately the
light faded and sparked away. The dissipating energy left what looked like a
solid steel snake in the street, flexible struts running up and down its
length. It was as thick as a tree trunk.

Revolution was sent careening into
a brick wall, hard. A large crack veined up the building. He fell and rolled in
pain. Even through the painkillers that activated immediately, his body burned
from an impact that should have crushed his brain, pulverized his spine.

Clay Arbor winced. “Well, that was
quick,” he said. But Revolution rose to his feet. Stumbled, steadied himself.
Arbor gasped, “I'll be damned.”

Revolution charged again and drew
its attention once more. A giant tendril swept across the plaza. Revolution
calculated the great arm's speed as it swung to kill him. Blazing titanium
clanged together in a thunderous crash that sent starbursts of metal and light
high into the air.

Revolution's spike cut straight
through, and another tentacle fell. But the impact slammed him though a
concourse lined of steel and glass and into a concrete wall, closer to Arbor
this time. Chunks of the stuff rained down on Revolution, and he moaned in
pain. Rolling in agony, his cape wrapped around him, covered in glass and
concrete.

Meanwhile, Sophia jammed the
bracelets together, and a field of energy began to grow around her. She and
Ward had retreated skyward, away from the monster. She gaped at Ward as she
strained against the power of her own energy. “Give me as much cover as you
can. Go!”

Ward shot back down at the great
machine. Sophia let the H3 power cover her entire form. Her flight suit might
not stop everything, but it was uniquely built to block H3. Yet this was
straining its limits. Ward fired the shurikens, drawing the metal beast to him
but being careful to stay out of the range of its tentacles. Sophia blasted
down at the monster. A glowing blue comet at supersonic speed.

Man-O-War's sensors picked her up,
and its tentacles swarmed up in defense. They looked like a high-tech bamboo
jungle in a hurricane. And she entered them without a moment's hesitation. Ward
was sure she would die.

Instead, she sliced straight
through them as they swung to cut her in half. Each great arm sang a metallic
roar and sent blinding flashes of lightning into the night air as they
splintered. It was the bravest thing Ward had ever seen.

As she reached the monster's
middle, she brought her arms forward, clasped her hands together, and fired the
most powerful blast the bracelets could muster. Man-O-War jolted and heaved
from the blow. The entire floating city was wrenched backwards, and a long,
low, thunderous bellow emitted from deep inside the bowels of the machine. And
then Ward prepared to watch Helius die.

She was about to smash right into
the monster's midsection like a bug on windshield. He seized up, dreading the
impact. Instead, she cut the hardest, fastest arc Ward had ever seen, flying
straight up across the expanse of the globe-like center section. This close up,
Sophia could see the struts and bolts and girder sections of its design. It was
generating red luminescent energy from inside itself somehow. She could see it
pulse, feel it.

“Paul, cover me again. I'm going
to make another—” Her words were cut off as a tentacle swung around from beyond
the curvature of the machine and blindsided her. Her speed helped her avoid the
worst of it, but the giant arm sideswiped her and she cracked through the air
like a home run at Fenway Park. She hurtled across the sky and smashed through
the windowed top floors of the First National Bank Building.

And was silent.

“Helius, come in.” There was no
reply. “Helius, can you hear—” Ward was cut off as a giant snaking tendril
whooshed toward him. As he was now the only thing left in the sky, it focused
all its fury on him and zoomed straight at him, its deadly arms slithering
through the heavens, stretching and expanding just like the whip had done in
the Fire Fly chamber. That’s when he realized there was no safe distance from
this thing.

“Fucking hell!” He zipped down and
arced back away from it. He flew for what seemed blocks until even the glow of
the machine was gone from view. Finally, he turned.

Still nothing from Sophia.

Ward felt his face flush with
anger, and a knot stuck in his throat. At first he hadn't been sure how much he
was going to like Sophia. She was brilliant to be sure, but she was also
caustic. Just the kind of egotistic intellectual he disliked. But her
unwavering bravery and commitment to the team had won him over.

As he floated there in the cold
night chill of the New England winter, he knew he had to give this all he had.
His teammate lay bleeding or dead. Revolution was alone below him. It was time
for Paul Ward to be resurrected one way or another. All the pain he had hidden
all these years. All the misdirected anger. He drew on it now. Visions of
little David played in his mind. The torture he’d endured from his captors. The
warmth of Lori in bed, by his side. The hazy heat of mornings, waking in her
arms. He bundled all of it up in his heart and prepared to
die.   

Full blast on the thrusters, he
rocketed back down State Street at Man-O-War. Angrily, a man possessed, he
flung the shurikens into the beast. They charged with luminescent power and haloed
into the glowing red dome of the machine. The tentacles swiped at him like an
annoying fly. He took aim with the final star.

He flew over the center of the
robot, in full range of all its remaining metal arms, drew back with all his
might, and pitched the last shuriken as hard as he could straight down into the
center of its dome, his body nearly spinning from the momentum.

He watched as the throwing star
ignited and sliced through Man-O-War. A brilliant starburst of energy erupted
out of it; a low mechanical whine roared from deep inside. “Gotcha!” he yelled
triumphantly.

SMACK!

 A tentacle sideswiped him
hard across the square. The auto thrusters on his wings tried to compensate,
but without his conscious guidance they failed. He hit hard and skidded across
the low roof of the old BNY Mellon Building and slammed into the steel wall
that jutted out of its center. Ward lay there, blood trickling from his mask.
He was still.

Man-O-War was unfazed.

CHAPTER
57

R
evolution
could barely stand. He wobbled to his feet, dusting the glass and steel and
concrete fragments off his armor. He stumbled backwards and braced himself
against the wall.

Arbor watched him with an annoying
respect. He hated to admit it, but the freak was showing a lot of courage. But
now it was time for him to regroup. Rethink. Revolution needed a new tactic,
that was clear. Clay Arbor stood there trying to think for his old rival—what
would he do in this situation? And then his mouth fell open. Revolution was
charging again. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he said to no one. “Just
stay down.”

Revolution hit his stride, the
drugs clearing his mind, firing his tendons. The machine he was wrapped in
responded in kind. He bounded up to Man-O-War and leaped into the air with all
the muscle he had, reaching back and swinging with all his might. But his
glowing spike had run its course.

As he swung, he could feel the
luminescent charge dying—the final charge his armor had and no way to renew it
without the chamber. With every ounce of remaining strength, he plunged the
spike into an oncoming tentacle and felt it rip off. A shooting pain stung him
at the same time. What he didn't know was that the severed tentacle also ripped
the spike straight out of his armor, taking an enormous chunk of his own flesh
with it.

He screamed in pain as a second
great arm crushed into his chest and hurtled him across State Street.
Revolution's armor tried to absorb the charge. He wondered if it would be able
to hold it or have to release it like Fiona's power.

He would never find out.

The Revolution's world went black
as he crunched into a concrete wall fifty feet off the ground and plummeted
straight down, cracking into the pavement in a thunderous crash. Windows
rattled up and down the block, and Man-O-War's power released from him in a
roaring red ripple.

Arbor flinched and turned away.
Revolution wasn't moving. He just lay there in a pool of his own blood. Arbor
shook his head. The freak had given it all he had, his whole team had. But now
they were done. Arbor couldn't help but feel respect for their efforts. Even a
hated enemy can fight with distinction—even for all the wrong reasons. He
watched the Revolution for movement, but there was nothing. He'd never seen the
guy fall before. Not like this.

“You had courage, sweetheart. No
brains. But courage.”

Just then a commotion grabbed his
attention. Across the street, a group of Minutemen approached, weapons in hand.
Hudson led the way. Donald and Cynthia Capers, from Lantern's ride, were there.
Ready.

Hundreds of Minutemen lined State
Street.

Fiona and Becky sat watching the events on TV.

A reporter shouted the action blow
by blow.
“And now these protesters have entered the street. This is the
group we are being told has adopted the name Minutemen. And one has to wonder
if that's about how long they'll last against such unfathomable odds...”

They met each other’s eyes. Fiona
felt a lump grow in her throat.

Hudson flung his arm like he was throwing the Hail
Mary of his life. “Open fire!” They raised their rifles, and a hailstorm of
bullets rained down on the Man-O-War. Round after round unloaded. But the
bullets were simply absorbed by the machine. They burned up in the luminescent
energy.

Hudson raised his arm again, and
the firing ceased. The guns fell silent. Hudson peered out over the scene.
Revolution was down. So were the others. It was up to him now. He swallowed
back the pounding, roaring fear that had invaded his skull. He heard the words
of that announcer from so long ago echo in his mind once more: “
Well, that
kid's got a heck of an arm, but he's just got to learn to be more patient.
Sometimes you have to just stand in there and take the
hit.”      

Hudson saw the giant machine
starting to move. If it wanted to, it could take down every building on State
Street.
Not on my watch
, he thought. He was ready to take the hit.
Hudson turned toward his troops. He raised his arm for one more Hail Mary.

A menacing mechanical roar erupted
from the machine, and its tentacles swept across the void, slashing the
Minutemen into the air, sending them flying to their deaths. Parker Hudson
never saw it. His head turned, he never got the chance.