Read Online Murder of Crows (Book One of The Icarus Trilogy) by Kevin Kauffmann - Free Book Online
Authors: Kevin Kauffmann
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drive the old Warner to violence.
But the Warner sitting on his bed with bloody knuckles wasn’t going to beat up a receptionist. It wasn’t worth the fine; not when every other day he could take out his aggression in gladiator combat. He wondered what it would be like to pound away at Jenkins again. The convict smiled at the thought, but soon felt guilty about it. He looked around at his room and sighed. The paper for his journal was still scattered around the desk and Warner just didn’t have the energy to pick it up yet. He would have nothing to pour on the pages if he did.
He stood up and left his room. It was time to make a house call.
-
Jenkins heard the knock on his door and wondered who would even bother talking to him. He expected Carver or Roberts to be on the other side, but when he swung open the door he found Warner glowering at him. Jenkins had to really try to not look frightened when he saw his teammate standing there, but after the initial shock the young soldier mustered up his courage and crossed his arms.
“Hey, Warner. What’s going on?” The angry veteran looked at the young soldier and sighed before shaking his head.
“I wanted to say that I’m sorry.” Jenkins furrowed his brow and wondered what the soldier was playing at. He didn’t seem the type to ever apologize for anything he’d done. Jenkins kept his arms crossed and pursed his lips.
“Sorry for what?” The veteran sighed again and let his disgust be known.
“Well, a lot, but in regards to you I’m sorry for beating you up a bit. I was out of line,” Warner said before looking away. He was finding it difficult to speak to the boy. “I shouldn’t have done it.” Jenkins’ gaze softened after that and he uncrossed his arms. He didn’t need to be confrontational about this.
“It’s ok, Warner. I understand where you’re coming from. I just got back from a resurrection this morning. I get it,” the young soldier stated, trying to commiserate. Warner gave him a quick glare; the boy had no idea what it was like, but then the convict realized he was being brash again. The new soldier had just died. Jenkins had to make that lonely display of courage up there in the mess hall not once, but twice that day. He was allowed to think he understood, even though he hadn’t been exposed to all this asteroid had to offer. Warner swallowed his words. The boy would understand soon enough.
“Well, I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t any bad blood. We need to be able to fight together.” Warner realized the words sounded too much like they had come from his old coach, but he let it slide. If the boy decided to make fun of him Warner would snap the kid’s wrist. Jenkins just shook his head and bit his lip slightly.
“No bad blood.” Warner looked at the rookie and wondered if he should shake hands. He realized that he would get blood all over the recruit’s hands if he tried, so he just left it at that and walked away. He knew he wasn’t really angry at the kid, he was just angry at the whole world. Jenkins was just a part of it at the time. The convict held so much more fury for the establishment. Joseph Warner’s fingers itched as he realized he could pick up the papers from the floor, now. He had plenty to write about.
-
After a few days Jenkins’ body was no longer a testament to pain. His new muscles were familiar; his body felt his own. He’d even participated in the last game against the Mastiffs. His conscience took a hit from sending the other soldiers to the same kind of hell he’d experienced, but they were all professional soldiers and dying was part of the job. It was a terrible job, but some thought it was better than nothing.
None of those people ever had to play the games.
Today he had held his own in the training yard. The soldiers had filed out of the area, but a few stragglers stayed behind. Feldman had
But the Warner sitting on his bed with bloody knuckles wasn’t going to beat up a receptionist. It wasn’t worth the fine; not when every other day he could take out his aggression in gladiator combat. He wondered what it would be like to pound away at Jenkins again. The convict smiled at the thought, but soon felt guilty about it. He looked around at his room and sighed. The paper for his journal was still scattered around the desk and Warner just didn’t have the energy to pick it up yet. He would have nothing to pour on the pages if he did.
He stood up and left his room. It was time to make a house call.
-
Jenkins heard the knock on his door and wondered who would even bother talking to him. He expected Carver or Roberts to be on the other side, but when he swung open the door he found Warner glowering at him. Jenkins had to really try to not look frightened when he saw his teammate standing there, but after the initial shock the young soldier mustered up his courage and crossed his arms.
“Hey, Warner. What’s going on?” The angry veteran looked at the young soldier and sighed before shaking his head.
“I wanted to say that I’m sorry.” Jenkins furrowed his brow and wondered what the soldier was playing at. He didn’t seem the type to ever apologize for anything he’d done. Jenkins kept his arms crossed and pursed his lips.
“Sorry for what?” The veteran sighed again and let his disgust be known.
“Well, a lot, but in regards to you I’m sorry for beating you up a bit. I was out of line,” Warner said before looking away. He was finding it difficult to speak to the boy. “I shouldn’t have done it.” Jenkins’ gaze softened after that and he uncrossed his arms. He didn’t need to be confrontational about this.
“It’s ok, Warner. I understand where you’re coming from. I just got back from a resurrection this morning. I get it,” the young soldier stated, trying to commiserate. Warner gave him a quick glare; the boy had no idea what it was like, but then the convict realized he was being brash again. The new soldier had just died. Jenkins had to make that lonely display of courage up there in the mess hall not once, but twice that day. He was allowed to think he understood, even though he hadn’t been exposed to all this asteroid had to offer. Warner swallowed his words. The boy would understand soon enough.
“Well, I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t any bad blood. We need to be able to fight together.” Warner realized the words sounded too much like they had come from his old coach, but he let it slide. If the boy decided to make fun of him Warner would snap the kid’s wrist. Jenkins just shook his head and bit his lip slightly.
“No bad blood.” Warner looked at the rookie and wondered if he should shake hands. He realized that he would get blood all over the recruit’s hands if he tried, so he just left it at that and walked away. He knew he wasn’t really angry at the kid, he was just angry at the whole world. Jenkins was just a part of it at the time. The convict held so much more fury for the establishment. Joseph Warner’s fingers itched as he realized he could pick up the papers from the floor, now. He had plenty to write about.
-
After a few days Jenkins’ body was no longer a testament to pain. His new muscles were familiar; his body felt his own. He’d even participated in the last game against the Mastiffs. His conscience took a hit from sending the other soldiers to the same kind of hell he’d experienced, but they were all professional soldiers and dying was part of the job. It was a terrible job, but some thought it was better than nothing.
None of those people ever had to play the games.
Today he had held his own in the training yard. The soldiers had filed out of the area, but a few stragglers stayed behind. Feldman had
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