Phoenix Rising (Book Two of The Icarus Trilogy) (48 page)

“Do you hear me?  Doc, we gotta move!  Where’s Haywick?” Jenkins asked hurriedly, wanting to get out as soon as possible.  He couldn't tell if the doctor had been successful, but there was no more time for this.  Charlotte looked the young soldier over and she realized which version of Jenkins stood before her.  The good doctor cleared her throat as she returned to the present and shook her head before stammering out in reply.

“Uh… um, no.  I couldn’t…. I couldn’t do it…  Is it time to get back to the barracks?” Charlotte asked, unaware of the death and destruction descending upon them.  Jenkins laughed briefly, his sense of humor tickled by the question, but he remembered why he was in such a rush and abandoned his levity.

“More like ten minutes ago.  Hammerheads got sent over here and they’re gonna be here any minute,” he started, hoping he wouldn’t have to explain much more to the doctor.  He didn’t have to.  Charlotte jumped out of her seat and gathered some instruments before heading towards the doorway.  Jenkins looked after the woman and smiled.  His thoughts returned to more carnal things, but he shook that from his mind.  The doctor only had eyes for the other one, after all.  The artificial soldier shook his head as he realized he was so close to being just what she wanted.

Charlotte Kane wordlessly hurried to the entrance of the clinic.  She knew that she had made a mistake; she could have left with them at the very beginning.  There had been no point to her little experiment with Haywick; these two men had come out here to save her for nothing.  Charlotte had ruined everything.

“Good to see you on your feet, Charlotte.  We gotta run back fast so we can get back to position,” Jenkins started, looking at his rifle and hoping that it wouldn’t jam on him in the coming fight.  He wondered if he would have to use it as they covered the open ground, but he was interrupted from his thoughts.

“Not gonna happen, Ryan,” Cortes said from the doorway.  He had retreated to the entrance as Jenkins had brought the woman out of her stupor and had watched for the incoming Hammerheads.  As the two revolutionaries approached his position by the door, Cortes looked over to his left.  Sam was staring back at him; his hand seemingly touching the glass of the door.  The boy looked grim and shook his head.  Cortes wondered if the boy was real or if he was actually just a product of his subconscious after all.  Either way, the boy was right.

Cortes turned to look back through the doorway and saw the transit ships descending to the twisted landscape.  The enemy had arrived; the battle was soon to be joined.

And they were far, far away from safety.

-

Norris watched as the ships descended from the skies.  This wasn’t the usual tactics for them, he noticed, but he could understand.  They were attacking a dedicated stronghold; the pilots weren’t just going to let soldiers drop from the air when there was probably a sniper in place.  The Englishman grinned as he thought about how easy it would have been to take them out after the Hammerheads had opened their parachutes.  They would have been defenseless little prey.

Instead he watched as the two transports opened the loading bays after landing a hundred meters from the walls of the barracks.  That was smart of them.  Norris would have been able to pick off so many of his besiegers if they had landed further away.  He shook his head before looking through the scope of his rifle.  They were just too clever.  Having two transports instead of one also put a damper on the Englishman’s tactics.  He would have to watch multiple approaches. 

“They’re heeee-eerrrrrre,” Norris said in a high-pitched voice over Comms.  He grinned at the development, but soon he heard a crackle over the dedicated channel.

“Alright, then.  Do us proud, soldier,” Templeton said over the channel.  Norris rolled his eyes at that.

“Love you, too, mate,” the Englishman said before he set his sights on the approaching enemy.  As he waited for the first Hammerheads to run out of the transports he wondered if the other three Crows would be of any use out here on the battlements.  He didn’t suppose they would, but it was nice to have a little company.  Lewis, Chang and Markham weren’t much for conversation, but it was somewhat comforting that Norris wasn’t alone.

He had to smile at that thought.  Everyone considered him a cold-blooded killer, but he knew better.  The Englishman really did strive for those human comforts, even if it didn’t seem like it.  The rest of the Crows just thought he was joking around because he was sick in the head.  They didn’t realize that he just wanted his friends to be happy; he wanted things to be lighter for them.  Norris sighed as he let the thoughts disappear from his head.  It was time for action.

Before the first soldier had made it a meter from the transport, Norris had already put a bullet through the man’s neck.  There was confusion from his teammates as the newly-made corpse fell to the ground, not even bothering to grasp at its neck.  The Englishman had grunted at that, not expecting the anti-climactic fall, but reloaded his rifle and then peered back into the scope.

The Hammerheads were already starting to fan out in all directions in order to distract him.  Norris made a face at that, but then shifted his aim to the soldier nearest the barracks.  He was just about to fire when he felt the air above him screaming about.  They were already starting to fire on his position.

“Cheeky little fuckers,” Norris said as he ducked instinctively.  He hadn’t expected them to find his position so easily.  He waited for a moment, thinking that he might want to move further down the wall, but the sound of Markham’s rifle echoing through the landscape was enough to bolster the Englishman’s confidence.  He turned to see the Crow standing above cover and looking down at the other transport.  Norris sighed as he crawled back towards the edge of the battlements.  If nothing else, Markham would serve as a distraction.

The Englishman was right in his assessment, as the Hammerheads had fully shifted their attention over to the standing Markham.  Norris took his time and lined up his shot, waiting for the right moment.  He pulled the trigger and felt the recoil of the weapon before seeing his victim fall to the ground through the scope of his rifle.  The jester couldn’t help but smile, as was his habit, but soon afterwards he felt an overwhelming sense of guilt.

These men weren’t going to get back up in a few hours.  For the first time, Edward Norris had killed a man.  But as soon as that thought hit him, he realized he had actually already killed
two
men.  He hadn’t even thought about the first one.  As he reloaded his rifle he wondered how he would feel about this after the battle.  This wasn’t a game anymore; this was life and death.  And he had dealt these Hammerheads quite the poor hand.

He felt the heat of the explosion almost at the same time as he heard it.  The sniper looked over to his compatriot and saw nothing but a bloom of flame and smoke.  Markham was gone from this world and in his place stood only a burning pile of ashes.  The smell of it wafted over to the Englishman and made him feel sick in his stomach.  This was no different than usual, the sensory experience was the same, but now there were real life consequences to it.  Norris didn’t know if he was going to be alright after this battle, but now was not the time to think about it.

“LEWIS!  Get to position and fire on those bloody bastards.  I mean that in the most present tense!” Norris shouted over Comms.  He turned to face his own opponents and tried to calm himself.  Shouting would do no good in this situation; he had to maintain his sense.

“Templeton, Markham is down.  RPG or something.  Just me, Chang,” he said before seeing the small Asian soldier fall off the wall out of the corner of his eye, “nevermind that, just me and Lewis, now,” he said before breathing out deeply and crawling to the edge again.  The Hammerheads were already starting to fill the field in front of him.  The sniper cursed himself for not doing his job; he had no business thinking in the middle of a war.  He steadied his shot on one of the men in the middle of the field and narrowed his eyelids.  He pulled the trigger and removed another man from bondage.  The Crow didn’t bother to think about it as he reloaded his rifle and moved his aim to the next soldier.

Edward Norris wasn’t a bad man; but this was no time for morality.

-

Percival jumped over the corpse of his teammate and wondered why anybody would want to watch something like this.  The Hammerheads were in such a terrible position right from the start.  Paulsen hadn’t even had a chance to fight.  As soon as the poor kid had jumped out of the transport Norris had thrown a bullet right through the kid’s throat.  Roth assumed it was Norris, at least.  He knew none of the other Crows to be as deadly with a sniper rifle.

“Fan out!  Don’t let him get an easy shot!” Roth shouted as he jumped out of the transport and looked out along the battlements.  He guessed from the angle of the shot that Norris had to be somewhere towards his left, and as soon as he looked up he could see the outline of the soldier’s head.  The red hair was a dead tell.  Roth smiled as he remembered the Englishman’s antics.  He didn’t want to kill the guy, but this was their lot in life, after all.

“Over there, follow my shots!” Percival shouted as he brought his pistol to bear and sent a few rounds towards the Englishman.  He wasn’t intending to hit the man; only force him behind cover.  As the red hair disappeared from view Roth knew he had succeeded.  He pointed at two of his teammates to keep that position covered as they advanced through the field.

The Hammerhead heard the echo of the shot and looked around for the next casualty.  After a brief moment he heard a familiar voice and found Jackson pointing to the other end of the battlements.

“Up there!  Fucking jackass is fucking standing!”  Roth followed the Hammerhead’s arm and could see the Crow clearly above cover.  He didn’t know anybody on the Crows who would have been so blatantly suicidal, but that wasn’t his problem now.  They would figure out who had been so idiotic after this little fight of theirs.  As Roth slung his launcher over his shoulder he remembered how he had thought Jackson and Norris had been alike.  Roth put the weapon up onto his shoulder and aimed at the foolish soldier on the walls of the barracks.

He pulled the trigger and watched the grenade sail through the air.  As the grenade collided with Markham’s breastplate he brought the launcher back around his shoulder before looking over at his compatriot.  Jackson was nothing like Norris, now that he thought about it.  Norris had been arrogant, of course, but he had still been worth knowing.  As he thought about his fellow Hammerhead, he realized that quality was missing.

Roth pushed the thought from his mind.  He watched as a body fell from the battlements and wondered who that could have been.  He hadn’t even noticed the small man above cover, but his teammates had made quick work of the gladiator.  Roth turned back to Norris’ position and noticed that the red hair had appeared back into sight.  That meant nothing but death to the hero soldier.

“Oh, fuck me,” Roth said as his teammates started to drop around him.  First went Folger, then Ostermann and soon Torrey followed them into oblivion.  Norris wasn’t kidding around anymore.  Roth almost gave into panic, but then decided that he had nothing to worry about.  If he couldn’t handle Norris, then he had no business going after Jenkins.

The hero soldier ran forward, paying no attention to the sniper rounds flying through the air into his compatriots.  Norris would have a harder time hitting him at full sprint.  As he got closer and closer to the wall he hoped and prayed that the Englishman was more concerned with his teammates.  He didn’t like to use them as cannon fodder, he would have much preferred for them to stay alive, but he felt grateful for their unwilling sacrifice.  As he neared the wall he slid his hand around the concussive grenade on his belt.  He flicked the button on the end of the sphere, priming it for use, and looked upwards.

Hopefully it would do the trick.

-

The Englishman was not wearing his usual grin.  He didn’t enjoy this.  He only knew that this was necessary; this was his purpose.  Norris’ only goal in life was to destroy as many of these ignorant men as possible before they stormed the gates.  The sniper would hand out death to these men reluctantly but without hesitation; that was his role in this world.

He had heard the man’s death cry over Comms; it had not been one of the Hammerheads that had breathed his last, then.  Norris hadn’t bothered to look over; he knew he was alone on these battlements, now.  Lewis might have served his purpose, he might have failed miserably; it meant nothing to the former jester.  He only had to point the finger of God in his hands and remove these slaves from existence.  Nothing else mattered.

Five.

Norris reloaded the rifle and readjusted his aim.  There were just too many of these soldiers in front of him and any one of them could have a lucky shot.  He realized that it didn’t really matter, now.  He wasn’t expecting to get out alive; not anymore.  There were no more jokes to make.  He just had to make sure Jenkins would have the best chance possible.

Six
.

The Englishman threw another shell into the chamber and flicked the rifle over to the left.  He had to focus more on this other group; they had not been as unfortunate to have his attention before this.  As the red-haired revolutionary looked over the field he found three dead Hammerheads.  Lewis, Chang and Markham had done something before dying, even if it was relatively little.  Norris grunted as he raised the rifle slightly and found a soldier aiming at him.

No, you don’t,
he thought before he pulled the trigger.  He could feel the air beside his ear burning away, but he watched as the Hammerhead fell to the ground.

Ten
.

The Crow had his hand going to the bandolier of shells around his arm when he heard the familiar clink.  He looked over just in time to see the deadly little piece of plastic and metal rolling towards him.  Norris didn’t even have time to curse as he rolled to his side, feeling the force of the grenade pummeling against the armor of his back.