Phoenix Rising (Book Two of The Icarus Trilogy) Read Online Free PDF

didn’t know, however, was that Cortes had willingly chosen the path which would be the most painful; the path which would be the most agonizing.  Cortes was eternally punishing himself and, while he certainly suffered under special circumstances, he realized that maybe Carver was in a similar situation.  Maybe the money didn’t matter; maybe there was something more important in the old man’s life.
    The Spaniard followed after the old man warily.  He knew that Sam would show up at some point; Cortes had yet to see his younger brother in the last few hours.  The apparition hadn’t shown up on any ridges or popped up from any cover on the battlefield.  Cortes preferred it that way; he preferred not to see any hallucinations of his dead brother.  He wished he could convince his brain of that, but in the back of his mind Cortes knew he deserved it.  The Spaniard was guilty and it didn’t matter if he had chosen the most appropriate punishment.
    It was never going to be enough.
    Cortes continued to follow behind the veteran and soon enough saw the transport coming into view over the horizon.  It was only a quarter of a kilometer away, now, and it wouldn’t be long before they could take their seats in the back of the loading bay.
    The old soldier reached the transport first and walked up the loading deck.  Cortes followed behind, wary that he would find Sam inside.  The Spaniard took a breath and rounded the corner to find an empty transport.  He watched as Carver continued to the back of the bench and then sat down with an effort.  Over the last two weeks the old man seemed to have aged ten years.  Now that he thought about it, Cortes realized it was in the same timeframe of Jenkins’ suicide and change in attitude.
    He would have hit himself if it wouldn’t have brought the attention of the older soldier.  It was so obvious.  Cortes remembered what happened with Washington and guessed that it had something to do with this change.  The veteran would probably not appreciate the other Crow sitting next to him when there was a whole empty transport, but Cortes decided he needed to talk to the man.  It wasn’t often that he could find a kindred spirit in guilt.
    As soon as he sat down he realized he didn’t know how to start the conversation.  Cortes wasn’t the talkative type and he deliberately tried to avoid speaking with any of his comrades.  He saw conversation as a pleasurable distraction, and the Spaniard didn’t want to start enjoying anything.  This cycle of pain and rebirth was his atonement.  Only in quiet moments would he admit to himself that he was just too afraid to die permanently.
    Cortes looked down at his hands and remembered his brother.  He hadn’t meant for it to happen, but when he tried to go forward with his initiation into the Sidewinders, Hector Cortes had killed two people.  Miguel Garcia had been killed by a shot to the chest.  He was part of a rival gang so it wasn’t much of a loss to the community, but Cortes had fired twice and one of the bullets had flown right past Miguel.  And unfortunately, the Spaniard hadn’t realized that his little brother had been out running errands and picking up groceries.  Hector Cortes held his brother as the small boy choked out the last of his life. 
    As he remembered his crimes he looked out towards the opening in the loading bay and noticed the boy with the orange shirt sitting on the other bench about halfway through the transport.  Cortes gulped as he looked at the young pre-teen with a patch of red blooming halfway down his chest.  The Spaniard closed his eyes and tried to convince himself that Sam wasn’t there, but when he opened his eyes again the sad child was still sitting there.
    “It’s ok, Hector.  You can talk to the old man.  I’m not going anywhere.”  Cortes sighed and stopped trying to convince himself.  He couldn’t stop his mind from betraying him anymore; he just had to live with it.  Cortes