Swan Song (Book Three of the Icarus Trilogy) (12 page)

“What are you doing here?” the doctor asked from his crouched position.  Eric hadn’t noticed the older man because of Douglas’ appearance, but he didn’t much care.  The doctor was testing Douglas’ new leg, which the cripple was swinging under the table like a little kid.  The older man stood up from his position and took a few steps towards Eric.  His moustache was black mixed with white and he swept his hair back from his receding hairline.  The face was a little puffy and Eric could see that the doctor had never had to go hungry.

“Hey, did you hear me?  What are you doing here?” he asked again, breaking Eric out of his stupor.  He cleared his throat and then pointed at Douglas.

“I’m here to see....” he said, faltering towards the end.  All he could do was keep pointing at the broken man.

“He’s not ready to see anybody right now.  I’m running diagnostics on the limbs.  Who are you?” he asked, crossing his arms, ready to force Eric out of the room.  The celebrity stammered a bit, but he just pointed at his bandaged friend again.  He couldn’t form the right words and the doctor started to move forwards, but he was interrupted by Douglas, who had perked his head up at the new voice.

“Is that.... is that Eric?” he asked, unable to tell for certain.  Douglas thought he could remember the voice, but he had never heard it sound so unconvincing and timid.  Eric walked past the doctor, brushing the older man’s shoulder before bending his knees so that he could speak with his compatriot face-to-face.

“Yeah, buddy, it’s me.  I wanted to visit and see how you’re doing,” he said, slurring his words a bit.  Douglas coughed slightly and the doctor moved to grab Eric, but Douglas put up his hand and laughed.

“Nah, it’s ok Dr. Collins.  It’s just the alcohol on his breath.  Took me a bit off-guard,” Douglas said before turning towards where he had heard Eric last.  “You been getting drunk every night since we got out, Eric?” he asked with a wry smile, marked by scars and cuts.  Eric felt another pang against his conscience at the man’s good spirit.

“Uh.... yeah, couldn’t really....”

“I get it, Eric, I do.  Are you,” he said before lowering his head and abandoning the smile, “did you get drunk so that you could see me?”  Douglas hoped that wasn’t the case; hoped that he wasn’t so disgusting that one of his friends had to get plastered just to bear the sight of him.  Eric shook his head profusely, forgetting that Douglas couldn’t see it, and put his hand on Douglas’ arm.  The man winced and Eric felt like a bad person, but Douglas motioned that it was ok.

“No!  No, Doug.  That wasn’t why.  I uh.... I actually came here by accident,” he started, which made Douglas scoff.

“I actually believe that,” he said with a slight smile.  Eric felt better, but he still had plenty of ground to make up.

“Look, come back tomorrow, you’re agitating him,” Dr. Collins started, but Douglas turned and huffed before straightening his back.

“No, doc, we’ve been meaning to talk.  Can you give us some time?  I’d appreciate it,” Douglas said, doing his best to project confidence while wrapped up like a poor man’s Christmas tree.  Collins shook his head and sighed.

“I still have to do the diagnostics, Finnegan,” he said, but Douglas shrugged at that, wincing as he did.

“The leg will be here when you get back.  I can’t exactly use it until you’re finished, right?” he asked, knowing that Collins wouldn’t be able to refuse anything from him.  He was a bit gruff, but the old man had a soft spot for his patients.  The doctor turned on his heel and thrust his hands in the pockets of his coat.

“I’ll grab something to eat and come back.  You’re an inconvenience, you know that, Finnegan?” he asked, not expecting an answer.  When he disappeared through the doorway, Douglas looked back to where Eric had last spoken.

“We’ve been meaning to talk?” Eric asked before grabbing a chair, dragging it near the table and then fell into its uncomfortable embrace.  Douglas laughed before shaking his head.

“Well, you have.  I can tell, Eric.  You always have
something
to say,” he said before swinging his legs again.  Eric watched the childish display and was filled with sympathy and pity for the former announcer.  He leaned forward in his chair and then contemplated his words, trying to find the best way to alleviate his guilt.

“Always do, Doug.  I wanted,” he said, hesitating on the word and feeling his hangover already starting.  He pinched the bridge of his nose and continued.  “I’m sorry.”

“About what?” Douglas asked.  Eric looked up at his friend and saw genuine confusion, or what could be genuine confusion beneath all the bandages.  He broke his gaze and then looked back to the ground before wringing his hands.

“I’m sorry this happened to you.  I don’t know if they told you, but they.... They left me pretty much intact.  They wanted to keep me charismatic in case I ever wanted to switch sides.  You got the,” he said before sniffing loudly and feeling sick to his stomach, “shit-end of everything.”

There was silence for a time, Eric unwilling to look at his friend and former co-worker.  He didn’t want to see the judgment and horror on the broken man’s face.  He didn’t want to see the pain and misery that he might have inflicted with just a few words.

“So?”  Eric looked up at Douglas, who might have been furrowing his brow beneath the white strips and gauze covering his eyes.

“Well, you got all .... tortured.  And I’m all perfect and pretty, still,” he said, thinking that Douglas must be in denial.  Instead, the broken man gave another twisted and cut-up smile.

“Well, Eric.... you were always the perfect and pretty one,” he said, throwing Eric Jones into further confusion.

“Yeah, but, you’re....”

“All fucked up?  Yeah, I know.  But that has nothing to do with you.  I never thought they were going to cut you up, anyway.  I mean, worse that could happen to you is they’d kill you.  Are you feeling guilty that it turned out like this?” he asked, trying to scratch an itch on his knee.  He missed at first due to the missing finger, but eventually he was able to find the spot.

“I....” Eric stumbled over his tongue.  He couldn’t comprehend what was happening, and it wasn’t just the alcohol.

“That’s stupid, Eric, and you’re smarter than that.  I took all this pain and damage because that was my role.  That was never something you were supposed to feel.  I stepped into Jamie’s shoes; that’s all.  And, well, it’s no picnic,” he said before looking down at his new leg.  His legs stopped swinging as he remembered the whole person he used to be.  “But it’s not all bad.”

“What do you mean?” Eric asked, the alcohol starting to wear off and a cold-sweat starting at his brow.  The fuzziness was starting to fade away, as well.

“Well, I won’t be able to see anymore, but I can help.  They’re making me do these ‘fireside chat’ things starting tonight.  Supposed to be a morale boost.  It might not be much, but at least I can still be useful.  I won’t have to be
Sean
anymore, either.”

“What?”

“Yeah, they’re gonna start calling me ‘Homer.’  Whole blind storyteller aspect.  Goldstein came up with it, but I kinda like it.  So yeah.... Could be worse,” he said before turning his blind gaze to his friend.  Eric looked back and felt a whole new kind of guilt and sorrow.  This broken man in front of him, a man he had intended to pity, was still providing more for the war effort even after all of his sacrifices.  Eric was in awe of this cripple sitting there with the artificial leg and covered in bandages.

“You’re unbelievable, Doug.”  The emaciated announcer scoffed at that, unable to restrain his reaction.

“What are you talking about?”

“You could have used being a cripple as an excuse, but you turned around and gave it the finger,” Eric said in his disbelief.  Douglas laughed again and put out his ruined hand to find Eric’s shoulder.  The celebrity felt guilty as soon as he realized that Doug had to give more than one finger.

“I’ve always been a contentious, snide little fucker, haven’t I?”

“Yes, yes, you have.  An inspiration, it seems,” Eric said, not noticing the smile developing on his face.

“So, you going to be doing anything other than drinking?”  Eric looked at the broken man making fun of him and decided that there was nothing that was going to stop him.  If Douglas could keep working after being tortured for two months, Eric wasn’t going to fall short.

“Well, I don’t know what I’ll do, but I’ll find something, I think.”

“You better,” Douglas said with that smile of his, “because if you don’t I won’t let you hear the end of it.”

-

Charles Kane was walking down Daisy Street when he saw it.  There was a man being accosted by three members of the EOSF for something; Charles didn’t know what the vagrant had done.  Mr. Kane was tempted to turn around and head for a cross street, but instead the accountant decided that he wanted to see what was happening.  Most of the people in Babylon were keeping their heads down these days.  No one could be sure what actions the EFI would take or if just looking at an EOSF officer would cause a beating.  Charles wasn’t the only man who had noticed the altercation, but he seemed to be the only one who was still heading their way.

“Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bump into you,” the man explained.  He was small and frail, his clothes dirty and torn in a few places.  It was obvious that the man hadn’t had a lucky day in years.  He was missing a couple teeth and patches of his hair had been torn out by something.  Charles guessed rats.

“You didn’t mean to?  You sure about that?” asked the smallest one of the officers.  It was clear that he was compensating for his height with his attitude.  All three of the men were covered in the jet-black armor of the Earth Orbit Security Forces, but on the streets of Babylon they wore the half-helms instead of the full face mask.  As a result, Mr. Kane was able to see the ugly face of the smallest officer and how spit came out to punctuate every question.  “You sure you’re not with the EFI and you just wanted to offend me?”

“No, please, I didn’t mean to,” the civilian blurted out.

“I mean, I don’t like being offended, sir.  I don’t like that one bit,” he said before stepping forward to the civilian.  In reaction, he backed away, right into the biggest EOSF officer.

“You didn’t mean to?!” the smaller officer shouted into the man’s face, spraying saliva onto his face.  “Then why the fuck did you just bump into my friend, here?  You have a problem with authority?” he shouted before shoving the man into his biggest friend.  The last of the EOSF trio stood off to the side and shook his head.

“Back off, Pete.  He’s just scared,” he said, trying to help the small civilian, but the antagonizing officer got into his face and pointed back to the little man.

“Scared?  He should be!  He just assaulted two officers!”

“No!  No!  I didn’t .... I didn’t mean,” the desperate man pleaded, but the EOSF officer spun around and sunk his fist into the man’s gut.

“Pete!  Stop it, we gotta go,” the other officer started, but Pete continued to beat the man while the tallest officer held the civilian’s arms behind him.

“He.  Has.  To.  Learn.  To.  RESPECT!  AUTHORITY!” Pete shouted, punctuating every word with another blow to the man’s abdomen.  It was enough to make Mr. Kane’s blood boil.  He couldn’t take it anymore; he couldn’t watch as a man with a power complex decided to beat an innocent man with no cause.

“Stop it!” he shouted, unable to contain the words.  What he saw surprised him.  The little EOSF officer stopped his assault and turned his attention to Charles, who was only two meters away.  He motioned to the biggest officer to continue holding the destitute man, but started to walk towards Mr. Kane.

“Stop it?  You got a problem, too, buddy?  You want me to show you what authority means?” he asked as he sauntered over to Charles.  The accountant was afraid and started to back away, but after just a moment he realized that he didn’t need to be afraid.  This small man was nothing but a coward, hiding behind authority that wasn’t really his.  Mr. Kane straightened up and looked at the advancing officer.

“I don’t think
you
know what it means,
Pete
.”

“I don’t know what it means?” the officer asked as he continued.  He was within a meter of the older man.

“I really don’t think you do,” Charles said as he widened his stance and waited for the little officer to make a move.  “I don’t think you understand that in a supposed democracy, the authority is granted to little punks like you only if we think it’s right for everybody.  I know we’re not exactly in a democracy right now, Pete, but just because you wear all black doesn’t give you the right to beat on a helpless, poor man.”