Phoenix Rising (Book Two of The Icarus Trilogy) (42 page)

“I….I’m not ready,” she said.  She knew the revolution had already started, she knew that all the parts of the plan were in motion, but she couldn’t admit to herself that they were running out of time.  Her thoughts returned to Haywick and his failed resurrection.  She had failed so spectacularly.  Then she had followed that up with bringing back a soldier who wanted to be dead. 

The doctor felt like she was anything but good.

“I’m not either, Charlotte,” Jenkins said, retreating into his own thoughts for a moment.  He shook himself out of it and set his hand on the woman’s shoulder.  “But there’s nothing we can do here.  We should meet up with the others,” he said, trying to convince her to leave with him.  The young woman merely looked at the floor and Jenkins knew that this was all his fault.  Charlotte was heavily invested in his resurrection and the first thing he had wanted to do was end it all over again.  Ryan sighed and cursed himself for being so inconsiderate.

“It… wasn’t your fault, Charlotte,” he said, falling back to the memory of his suicide.  He had felt like it was justified, ending it all right there.  He was destined for misery and death; his clones would be the ones to take his memories.  He hadn’t considered that so many people would be affected by his decision.  Charlotte looked up at him with sorrow behind those beautiful, rich brown eyes.  She shook her head and closed her eyes for a moment.

“But there’s so much that is, Ryan,” she said as she opened her eyes and looked directly into Ryan’s own.  The young soldier felt something turn inside him, but he did what he could to ignore it.  “I don’t care what you say, the system is what drove you to that suicide and I was part of the system.  I’m not going to ignore my guilt,” she said as she broke eye contact and looked at her hands.  “But, there was another soldier, Haywick.  I couldn’t save him.  I couldn’t resurrect him before they shut down the satellite relays.  I failed him, Ryan.  Just like I failed you,” she said as she ran her thumb over the nails of her other hand.  She was still looking at them when Ryan placed his hand over hers.

“I failed, Charlotte.  Me.  I was the one who gave up.  I never want you to think you were responsible for that,” Ryan said as he looked down at the kind woman by his side.  She looked up at him with tears, but was too stubborn to let them fall.  Jenkins kept his hand on hers, but he reached over with the other and wiped away the tears.  “As far as Haywick goes,” he said, trying to break the subject as easily as he could.  “You say you’re not ready to go, yet.  Couldn’t you…. I don’t know, grab his file from Hawkins’ computer and resurrect him like you did for me?  He would have old memories, but he’d still be around,” he said, trying to give the woman hope.  Her face brightened for a moment, but then she looked down as she considered the implications.

“I….well, I’d have to force an early adoption.  You and Carver are the only ones who reliably survive those,” she said, trying to remind herself that it was out of the question.

“But there’s a chance he can be alright?” Jenkins asked, trying to poke holes in her argument.  The doctor looked at him and Ryan could tell that she was starting to hope again.

“I mean… yes, but…” she started, but Ryan shook his head and set his hand on her shoulder.

“Well, there’s no real harm in trying, right?  We have some time before they send anybody, Charlotte.  If it’s that important I say you should try,” Jenkins said while pursing his lips.  Charlotte looked at him and then back at her hands, which were still covered by the new soldier.  A hopeful smile started to form on her face as she considered the idea.  Maybe she hadn’t failed as entirely as she thought.  She looked up at the soldier on the resurrection cell and couldn’t help but feel better.  He had always known how to do that.

“I could… try,” she said before biting her lip.  Jenkins smiled at her and stood up next to the cell that had so recently held him in storage.

“Knowing you it’ll be better than that,” he said, giving the woman a warm smile.  He felt no joy, no light-hearted feelings.  It was all a front for her, but he didn’t have to let her know that.  Ryan just wanted her to be happy, even if this was all so hopeless.  He walked towards the door, but before leaving he turned back to look at her.  The young soldier felt that turn in his stomach again, but he ignored it.

“I’m going to the barracks now.  Don’t want Carver to yell at me again.  Come when you’re ready.  With or without Haywick.  Just know that even if it doesn’t work out, it’s not your fault, Charlotte,” he said, keeping that fake smile plastered on his face. 

“You brought me back from the dead, Charlotte.  If nothing else, you saved me,” he said as he started towards the entrance of the clinic.  He knew this was all worthless, but he could spare her that for the moment.  Ryan couldn’t bear to see her sad.

-

Douglas was frightened.  The fear was all-encompassing and he had nothing to rely on.  Jamie was sitting across from him in the transport flanked by two members of the EOSF.  Douglas’ hero was broken and in chains and the chubby man was in exactly the same position.  The former announcer’s face was swollen and bloody from getting slammed against the floor of the studio, but even then he was in better shape than the producer of
War World
.  Jamie had been caught in a small explosion and his face was a pattern of black and green bruises and long cuts from shards of wood and plastic.  The man was no longer the beautiful specimen that he had been just a few hours ago.

But they had done it.  Their mission was a success and the revolution had begun.  It was a shame that they were going to be the first martyrs for the cause.  It was a necessary thing, but now that he had to experience the consequences Douglas couldn’t stop himself from feeling a large amount of regret.  He didn’t look to his right at the risk of drawing attention, but the announcer knew that Eric Jones was on the other side of the EOSF officer.  The celebrity had been the face of the movement for that brief moment of glory, but now he was going to die; he was going to be punished just like Douglas and Jamie.

Douglas Finnegan felt the despair sinking into his soul and he had no options.  He could only hope that they would kill him quickly, that they would only leave him to his thoughts for a few days or so; hope that they would get bored of torturing him and inflicting all kinds of pain.  He was just an overweight announcer; Douglas should be nothing to them.

The transport decelerated and came to a gentle stop after just a few hours of transit.  Soon enough, the back door of the transport opened to let in the fading light of sunset.  As the EOSF escorted the three revolutionaries out of the transport, Douglas looked at the sun one last time.  He had never taken the time to appreciate the beauty of that sunset flanked by all those asteroids.  He had grown up with them; he had never considered that it was out of the ordinary.  Before they turned his head, Douglas realized that all of the people on those man-made constructs were about to be thrust into chaos.

He also realized that it was worth it.

Douglas was forced in line with the other two men and they walked to the facility along a gravel road.  It was a small, unimpressive thing, only two stories tall, but for Douglas, it held only the promise of pain and death.  This was to be his last residence and grave.  It was morbid enough for it.  There were few windows and the walls were made of gray cinder blocks.  As Douglas walked into the facility, flanked by EOSF, he could only sink further into his despair.  He wouldn’t have been surprised to find a guillotine or a man with an axe beyond those plain, brown front doors.

Instead Douglas was faced with a man at a desk behind dark, gunmetal grey bars.  The receptionist looked up at the men approaching him and sighed with disdain.  He propped his hand underneath his chin and turned his attention to the EOSF officer in the lead.

“These the guys from
War World
?” the man asked, lazily referring to the resistance movement he considered to be doomed.  It was nothing for him to worry about.  The EOSF officer nodded and shrugged.

“Yeah, sorry it took so long,” the officer said before nodding towards the three men about to die.

“Fine by me; I’m not doing anything with ‘em.  Interrogators will have all the fun.  So which one is which?” the man asked before trying to look past the officer.  The other man turned slightly and pointed to each man in turn.

“First one is Jamie Caswell, second is Douglas Finnegan, third one is,” he started, but the man behind the metal bars interrupted.

“Eric Jones, right.  I know that one at least.  Mr. ‘Welcome to the Revolution.’  Umm,” he said before looking down at the terminal to his right.  “Take Caswell to 201, Jones is going to 203 and….” the clerk said before scanning the screen, “Finnegan’s going to 405.”  The officer laughed at that.

“405?”

“Yeah,” the clerk said before turning his attention back to the officer.  “They don’t think he’s all that important.  Only an announcer, you know,” the clerk said with a roll of his eyes.  Douglas couldn’t help but feel offended.  They could have had more respect when they were talking about dead men.

“Pfft, yeah,” the officer said before turning back to Douglas.  “This one’s not pretty enough to be on TV,” he said, ending with a scoff.  Douglas did what he could to ignore it.

“None of ‘em are, looks like.  You guys did a number on ‘em,” the clerk said, but the officer merely shrugged at that.  “Well, go on.  The interrogators get anxious, you know,” the clerk said before turning his attention back to the crossword puzzle on the terminal.  The lead officer laughed at that and then motioned to the other soldiers to take their charges to their rooms.  Jamie and Eric were led off to the hallway to the right, but when the two officers grabbed Douglas they dragged him to the left.  Douglas looked at his two colleagues and realized that this would probably be the last time he would see them.  He couldn’t let that go in silence.

“Nice knowing you guys,” Douglas said over his shoulder.  The officer to his right turned his head sharply, but didn’t punish Douglas for the statement.  The man could have his last words.  As he walked towards the left hallway, Douglas had no way of seeing it, but Jamie shed a tear at the statement.  The resistance agent knew it had to be this way, but he felt horrible about what was to happen.  Douglas had no idea what his role was going to be.

Douglas looked forward during this last march, but there was nothing to look at.  There was so little detail, the floors a smooth layer of concrete, the walls the same cinder block he had seen from the outside.  The only remarkable change was the thick steel doors that were set far apart on the right side of the hallway.  Douglas saw the numbers counting up from four hundred, and after a short walk, Douglas could see "405" stamped on a steel door to his right.  The EOSF officers paused at the door, and when one of the officers tapped on the terminal nearby, the metal plate slid back into the wall. 

The announcer looked at his cell and realized there was very little in it.  There were chains and shackles attached to the wall, but in the middle there was just a chair with leather straps attached to the arms and legs.  The two officers ushered the overweight man into the room and Douglas noticed the small fluorescent light in the center of the ceiling.  He had always hated that kind of lighting.  Douglas walked up to the chair in the middle of the room and wondered what they would do to him, first.  He turned, expecting the two men to strap him in, but they had already retreated to the entrance.

“Take a seat,
Sean
.  They’ll be right with you,” they said before one of the officers tapped the terminal to close the door.  Douglas watched as the man sealed him in and wanted to say something to them.  He wanted to say that he didn’t blame them for this, and thought that maybe he could reach out and they would understand.  But he realized as the door slid out of the wall that they wouldn’t care about anything he said.  They would just shake their heads at the stupid, little resistance agent.  Douglas looked at his feet and after the door sealed, the light above turned off.  The former announcer was left in complete darkness. 

Douglas realized that he would have preferred the fluorescents after all.

                -

Jenkins could not get comfortable.  He was dressed in his power armor now, minus the helmet, but it felt so much more cumbersome than he remembered.  All of his movements seemed more strenuous and the young soldier felt slower.  It made perfect sense, he hadn’t been able to go through the therapy like every other clone, but Jenkins still thought he would be able to move.  After all, the suit tended to move itself.

But that discomfort was nothing in comparison to how he felt around his teammates.  They looked at him as if he no longer belonged.  Abrams didn’t look him in the eye; Warner merely grunted at him.  Even the drones looked at him like a stranger; an intruder in their midst.  Even those who accepted him, like Goldstein, were constantly staring at him.  It didn’t seem like he would ever be one of them again.

Jenkins had to get away from it all.  He considered going to the mess hall or the library, but it became apparent that soldiers were present all over the place getting ready for their impending doom.  The newborn soldier remembered another reason why he might not want to go to the library, but that was a thought he tried to push from his mind.  Eventually he would be face-to-face with his old friend, but he shouldn’t think about that, now.  He had other things to worry about.

The young soldier decided that there was only one possible safe haven; the one place that none of the soldiers would go in this time of anxiety.  Jenkins made his way to his room and felt ill at ease.  All he wanted was for them to stop staring at him; all he wanted was some time to himself.  Above all he wanted to avoid his clone for the time being.  He wasn’t prepared for that, yet.

When he entered his old room his heart sank; it was the last thing he wanted to see.  The gentle giant was sitting in his room, his back to the wall where Jenkins’ bed used to be, his legs propped up in front of him.  The room was empty, but just the presence of the Crow was enough to fill up the empty space.  Jenkins felt an oppressive weight on him and he had to steady himself on the doorframe.