This story was asked to be done by a fellow author who won't be named (Since I forgot to ask if he wants to be named. If he does, I will change this). So any thanks on the idea can go to him. Otherwise, enjoy!
It should have been a moment of joy. A moment to rejoice. To cheer about with friends, and share a drink over back at home base. But for those who were on the frontline, there was something else. It was also a time for mourning lost brothers in arms. The sacrifices made on the bridge, to push the enemy back. Especially the final sacrifice of our comrade, Connor Morgan. A brave soul to the end, who never stopped fighting. Even in the face of death, he stood in the way to save his friends. Us. Three people. Two he had known for some time. But the third, he had only met a week before. Me, Robert Jacobs. We stood by him till the end.
As the smoke rose from the metal burning coffins that once were the KPA vehicle counterattack, the soldiers on the bridge cheered. But us three did not. We ran in there, calling out his name. Looking everywhere for him. Though none of us were as distraught as Rianna. Her wide eyes searched through all the wreckages, along the side of the bridge. Her mouth stretching open as she basically screamed his name, over and over. Tears threatened to stream down her tan face from her dark brown eyes. She was the most caring of us, so this was expected.
"Connor! Connor!" Yet it still pained my heart to see her like this. The third member of our party was not appealing to many of our allies, mostly due to his ethnic origin. Despite his similar appearance to those who invaded America, he was good-willed and cared for his friends. Even if that meant standing against those he once lived with. His green cap shadowed his face, although I could still see the grief in his face. He went over solemnly to the shouting woman, and put a hand to her shoulder. She did not hesitate to fall into his arms as he hugged her for comfort. I could read his lips, saying 'We will find him. We will find him' over and over. But I knew that if we did, he would not be alive. No one could ever have survived a missile strike that close. He would be dead.
I peered over my shoulder to see the military men standing on the gun platform. Some of them cheered, throwing their helmets and hands up. However, a few of them did not. Instead, they watched us search, sorrow visible in their faces. This search had to end. For our own sakes, and especially Rianna. The stress would be too much for her.
I walked over to her while still pretending to search. Even though inside I still wanted to actually hope that he was still alive. They had done so much together in such little time. Escaped a prison bus, tagged a fuel truck, broke through the wall of Montrose, stole a helicopter from a rogue group of survivors, captured the fuel trucks, and lastly aided in taking the Golden gate bridge. They had lost so much along the way as well. The destruction of the Oasis and the death of them, the death of Boone, the bombings across Montrose. All of it would have been too much for many people, and they survived that. Only for one of them to die.
Jets above drowned out the cheering. Gave me the chance to speak to her openly, and have none of the troops hear it. I sent Hopper a look that he completely understood, and he ambled off, scanning the road of the bridge. Once he was far enough away, I put a hand on Rianna's shoulder. She was using her hand to lean on a destroyed wreck of a vehicle. I was surprised her hand wasn't burning at all, since it had recently exploded.
I said the only I could think. And possibly the worst. "He's gone, Rianna." Bluntly. She moved her gaze onto me. With glassy teared eyes looking at me in disbelief. Already I knew what she wanted to say. And I wish I could say the same.
"No. He isn't! He's a planner! He thinks things through, and he always made it out!" The pain in my chest burned more. The weight felt heavier. "He's here somewhere. Maybe he went over the side! Like you did!"
I sighed aloud. "Rianna.."
"Jacobs, he is alive! We just have to search the water! He's down there, I-"
"Rianna!" I seized her shoulders, spinning her to face me. Tears continued to spring to her eyes. "I know it might not feel right, but he's gone. Okay, he's gone." I let out a sigh, letting my head hang low on my shoulders. It was depressing to see a friend die, especially if that friend saved your life. A heavy weight was left on my shoulders, taunting me with how I could have done something different. How I could have been the one to go. But it was just too late.
Yet the alerted voice of Hopper gave hope. "I found something! It looks like him!" Rianna and I had run over, coming to a halt with gleaming hopes. There was his army, with that brown glove he wore. However, I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw how charred the skin of his wrist was. Cracked and red, little rivers of blood leaking down the wrist. I noticed that Hopper did as well. We could only picture what lay beneath.
And when Rianna uncovered the rubble, one of her hands flew up to her mouth in pain, staring in disbelief. His body was nothing but a charred corpse. His chest no longer moved, his serious eyes were never open again. And yet, from what we could recognize on his face, he went out with a grin. He knew what he was doing. Hopper knelt by her side, comforting the tan woman while I stood by, wordless and motionless. After a short moment, I knelt down beside the body and closed his hand around the badge he held.