Hellgate London - Exodus Part 31

Simon stood in Booth's office with his helmet under one arm. Bruised and bloodied from the battle, he stared at Booth in disbelief. "I was thinking I was saving those people."

"Those people made their choice to stay in that house!" Booth roared. "They weren't our b.l.o.o.d.y problem!"

Simon barely kept his mouth shut.You weren't there. You didn't see the look on that little girl's face. "When Sergeant Chipplewhite decided to stay to try to save you, he put his team at risk," Booth continued. "I've got six more dead Templar than I had last night."

Simon didn't point out that Bruce's death was due to the book they'd been sent after, not the encounter with the Gremlins.

"In all fairness, sir," Derek spoke up from where he stood slightly behind Simon awaiting his turn for Booth's wrath, "the situation wasn't-"

"Wasn't for Simon Cross to muck about with," Booth interrupted, swinging his baleful gaze to Derek. "Nor was it yours. Do you consider trading the lives of six warriors for one a good trade, sergeant? Because if you do, I've seriously got to rethink your position as a leader."

Derek closed his mouth and put up no further protest.

Booth stared hard at Simon, like the effort was going to wound him in some manner.

The old resentment rose in Simon. For a moment he felt like they were back at school when Booth had thought he could bully a smaller and younger cla.s.smate. Everything in him cried out to prove that wasn't about to happen now any more than it had then.

Don't go there,he told himself.You won't win the political battle involved in this encounter. Still, he hated to acknowledge that even to himself.

"You had your a.s.signment when you went there," Booth continued. "You were to get that book and get out of that house. It should have been easy. No muss, no fuss." He paused. "And no loss of life. Not of my warriors."

"That little girl," Simon said in a tight voice, "those people, needed help. If they'd stayed in that house, they would be dead now."

"That's notmy problem," Booth said. "That's notyour problem." He cursed. "There are a lot of people dead out there. I've seen their bodies. And I've got a vidburst for you, Cross: there are going to be a lot more of dead people before this is finished."

Simon breathed out, concentrating on controlling his reaction. He didn't have to get mad. That was a luxury he couldn't afford at the moment.

"And to make matters even worse, you brought themhere. This base is supposed to remainsecret!" "There was nowhere else to take-"

"Those people arenot our responsibility! We're here to save a world. Not a handful of people. We can only do that by defeating the demons. Not offering sanctuary. When that woman and her children choose to leave here, if they choose to do that-and if they don't then you've served only to increase the burden here-they could tell others about the secret areas we have in the Underground. It won't be long before the demons learn where we are."

Simon hadn't thought about that until he'd returned to the Underground himself. He'd concentrated solely on getting the family out of the burning house and to someplace safe. Saving them had come first.

"We're not here to savepeople," Booth said. "That's not what all those Templar intended when they died at St. Paul's Cathedral. That's not what your father intended when he died so that we could have a chance to carry on this war."

You don't know what my father intended,Simon thought angrily. Then guilt a.s.sailed him. He didn't know what his father intended either because he hadn't been there with him at the end.

"We're here to win the war against the demons," Booth continued. "Not to lose it slowly."

Simon concentrated on his breathing. Whatever Booth said wasn't going to matter. He'd learned something tonight that had felt good. Saving that girl and her family had felt good.

"Are you listening to me?" Booth demanded. "Yes, sir."

"Those people," Booth spoke carefully, "are part of generations that stepped away from everything the Templar tried to teach them about the demons. They didn't want to see the demons. They didn't want to heed the warnings the Templar had that the demons existed. Those people watched as King Philip IV broke the ranks of the Templar in 1307. None of them believed in demons. They didn't want to. No one wanted to admit beings of such immense power existed because it might lessen the place they believed they had in the world. So they lived their lives in denial while the Templar went underground and worked to rebuild their lost fortunes so they could continue that war. That's not going to change just because you want it to."

Simon breathed out.

"We need warriors," Booth said. "Not heroes. The heroes all died at St. Paul's Cathedral. We don't have that luxury."

Simon almost said something. He thought Derek had to hold back a comment as well, but he couldn't be sure.

"We can only win this war if we manage to keep enough Templar alive long enough to figure out the weaknesses of the demons and get the job done. They're not going to do that by trying to play thehero." Booth spat the word as if it were a vile thing.

Keeping a tight rein on his emotions, Simon remained silent.

"If you want to be such a b.l.o.o.d.y hero," Booth said, "figure out how to defeat the demons. I'll mark you in the Book of Champions myself." He snorted in disgust. "The only reason I'm allowing you to stay at this point is because we need every able-bodied warrior. But if you screw up again, if you risk my Templar by inciting them to act foolishly, you'll be gone. And I mean forever banished from our ranks.

Do you understand?"

"Yes." Simon's voice was low and tight. "Good. Now get out of my sight."

Simon turned on his heel and marched out of the room. He resented Booth's heavy-handedness and wanted to retaliate, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. He had to walk a narrow path inside the Order.

Simon went to the hospital ward even though he was tired. When he'd arrived at the Underground, Booth had sent for him at once. The children's mother, Emily, hadn't been in good shape. He wanted to know if events had conspired to make orphans of the girl and her brother.

A few minutes later, he'd found his way through the tunnels to the med center.

A pretty woman, Simon thought her name was Kaye, stood in lavender scrubs at the triage center. She looked up at his approach.

"Cross, isn't it?" Her voice was open and honest. She looked tired. "Yes." Simon stood at the desk. "I brought in a woman and-"

"-and two children." Kaye smiled. "Quite outgoing children actually."

"I wanted to find out how they were doing."

"The kids are fine. The mother is going to need a bit of recovery. Apparently she's a diabetic and had run out of medication. She'd lapsed into a coma. If you hadn't found her when you did, she would have been dead within a matter of hours."

"But she's going to be all right?"

"She is. She's resting naturally now."

Simon breathed a sigh of relief. After everything the night had turned into, that was a welcome bit of news.

"Would you like to see them?"

Simon shook his head. The last thing he needed was for Booth to find out he'd stopped by the infirmary to check on the people he wasn't supposed to have saved. "No. I've got to-" Kaye smiled and looked over Simon's shoulder. "Too late."

Turning, Simon discovered the boy and girl were in a doorway behind him. Both of them had on new clothing and a few bandages. They stared at him shyly. The boy kept dropping his eyes and looking away.

"Are they all right?" Simon asked.

"Other than a few b.u.mps and bruises, they're fine." Kaye walked around the desk and over to the children. "Come on. I'll introduce you."

"I really don't think-"

"They've been waiting on you. They've been begging me to send for you, actually." Reluctantly, Simon followed Kaye. The young woman kneeled down by the kids. "This is Emma," Kaye said, "and this is Stephen."

Emma stuck her hand out, then elbowed the boy to get him to do the same.

"Hi." Simon shifted his helm which he carried under his arm, and pulled the glove from his right hand. He shook hands briefly.

"You're the one who saved us," the little girl said. Simon didn't know what to say to that.

"Yes," Kaye said. "He is." She looked at Simon. "From what I hear, what he did was a very brave thing."

Feeling embarra.s.sed and uneasy, Simon wanted more than anything to escape the encounter. Nothing good could come of this if Booth heard about it. He started to make his departure.

"Thanks for saving my mom," the little girl said. "I was really scared that the monsters were going to find us before Daddy came home."

Simon was surprised at how strongly emotion moved within him. After learning of his father's death, after seeing how many deaths had happened in London, the child's simple thank-you touched him more than anything had in a long time.

"You're welcome," Simon said. "But it wasn't just me. There were others."

"I know. But you're the one who came in after us."

Simon smiled. "I couldn't leave you."

"You could have," Emma said. "Others did. When Mom got sick and we couldn't wake her up, I went to some of the neighbors that lived around us and tried to get them to help us. No one wanted to come out of their houses."

Thinking about the little girl running through the streets knocking on doors, easy prey for the demons, almost made Simon sick.

"Well then," Simon said, "I'm glad you asked me." He squatted down to look her in the eye. "You did a very brave thing coming out to stop me."

The little girl smiled a little bigger. "I knew you would save us. You had to. You're a knight in shining armor."

Simon knew his armor didn't shine. It was covered in soot and debris from the battle. Blood: his own and that of demons and other Templar. "I'm not-"

"You are," Kaye interrupted, smiling, too. "We've all got to have something to believe in these days, don't we?"

"Do you know King Arthur?" Stephen asked. "Have you gotten to meet him?" "No."

"Oh." The little boy seemed disappointed. "Mom reads King Arthur to us a lot. King Arthur is my favorite hero. The legends say that Arthur will return when Britain needs him most."

Simon grinned, remembering the times his father had read some of the cla.s.sics to him when he was small. It had been apparent that his father had loved those stories, and even seen what the Templar were doing as n.o.ble and heroic. Simon had never bought into that, but he'd never before felt the way he did now.

"I always liked Sir Gawain," Simon said.

Emma took a strip of blue cloth from her pocket. Without a word, she approached Simon and wrapped the strip around the armor at his biceps. She tied it into a bow and stepped back. "It's a favor," Emma said.

Touched, Simon nodded. "I know." "I hope it brings you luck."

"Thank you."

"All right then," Kaye said, standing again. "I think we'd better let Simon go rest. He's been up for a long time."

The children said a final good-bye and returned to their mother's room.

"I've put cots in there for them," Kaye said. "If they need anything," Simon said.

"We'll take care of them. Don't you worry about that. But you do need to rest. You look as though you're ready to keel over."

Simon felt like it, too. He'd been on his guard around Booth, but the fatigue was kicking in again. He told her thanks and good-bye, then headed back to the barracks.

The barracks were quiet when Simon returned. Only a few Templar were there, telling him without looking that it was daylight. The Underground tried to maintain a day/night rotation that matched the outside world. Even with the chaos that had consumed London, evidently the effort was still being made.

He stripped out of the armor, exchanging a few comments with some of the other men from Derek's unit before heading to the showers with a towel and a pair of sweat pants.

Standing under the shower, he felt guilty about resting while other Templar might even now be out in the streets fighting for their lives while he was preparing for bed. The hot spray broke stinging needles against his skin.

You can't be everywhere at once, Simon,his father had told him.When it comes to fighting, you'll get more than your share of it. But when the demons come, it won't be one encounter or one day. They'll come in strength. The Templar taught them they would have to do that when we fought during the Crusades. When they come, you'll fight until you're sick of it. So when your mates step into the fray to carry the burden of it for a time, do yourself and them a favor by letting them.

Images of the battle played through Simon's mind again. Most prominent in his thoughts, though, was the helplessness in the girl's face when she'd come to him.

Would another Templar have helped her? Would he or she have gone against Booth's wishes and simply stuck to the mission?

Or would that Templar have left her there to die?

Simon couldn't believe they would have been asked to do something like that. Not all of the Templar Houses could possibly feel that way. There were a lot of people still trapped in London. He'd seen their campfires.

When the Dark Times come, Simon, we'll have to be the light that leads humanity out of the night. We can do that. It's our destiny.

Some destiny,Simon thought sourly.I ran off and wasn't here when you needed me, and High Seat Booth wants us to sit back and watch innocents die. That's not what I expected from the Templar, not what I want to be part of.

No longer able to take the heat, Simon turned the shower to full cold for fifteen shivering seconds, then stepped out, dried himself, and pulled on the sweat pants.

When he stepped to the door, he was confronted by a tall, powerfully built woman with short-cropped red hair. She wore a cropped t-shirt, sweat pants, and sneakers.

"Simon Cross," she snarled. "You got my sister killed tonight!"

Before Simon could think of anything to say, the redhead doubled her fist and slammed it into his jaw.

She put enough muscle and weight behind the blow to knock him backward. His feet slipped on the wet tiles and he went down. In the next instant, the woman straddled him and curled both hands into fists. She attacked without hesitation, driving blows into his face.

Thirty-Six.

Temperance! Temperance, get off of him!"

The woman scored hit after hit, bruising Simon's face with punishing force. Someone pulled at her from behind, but she locked her legs around Simon's midsection even tighter. With her seated on his chest and squeezing him in the middle, he had a hard time catching his breath.

Bucking his hips up, Simon lifted himself and the woman from the floor. Then he reached across his body with his right arm and slammed his hand against the inside of the woman's right elbow, trapping her right wrist in his left hand. Using the leverage provided by the grip, he pulled her weight to the side, dumped her off of him, and stood.

He'd no more than got to his feet when someone else delivered a roundhouse kick to his face. Simon barely got his hands up in time, palms turned out and open to cushion the blow across the meaty parts of his forearms. Grabbing the leg with one hand as the new attacker tried to pull it back, Simon shifted and uncoiled a side kick to the center of the man's chest and knocked him back against the tiled wall. The man hit the wall hard enough to knock tile from the wall.