At the eastern edge of the bridge, a Marine unit set about clearing a path through the wreckage of the roadblock. Alex watched anxiously from the shadows as they towed in a pair of very large guns on wheels.
The veteran state trooper approached one of the Marines. "Semper Fi, Mac," he said in greeting, putting out a hand.
The Marine he'd addressed turned in surprise; then gripped the trooper's hand. "You a former Marine?"
"Served in a field artillery unit in Korea," he replied, running an appreciative eye over their guns. "If you don't mind me asking, why are you setting up howitzers in a civilian area? Seems like a bit of overkill for the situation."
The young Marine stiffened. "Overkill is what those guys did back at base. We've some special ordnance designed just for them."
The veteran glanced at the open box of shells. "Practice rounds?"
"Plastic practice rounds filled with explosives," the Marine clarified. "Apparently our target has some new defense against metal shells. HQ must have known about it, because when we got the call to move, they had these babies all ready to go."
The veteran huffed. "Wished they'd told us before we wasted a bunch of ammo."
The Marine inclined his head towards the Chinook at the other end of the bridge, almost two thousand feet away and barely visible in the darkness. "Well, since the Army's sacrificing one of their choppers, we'd better not waste this batch."
As he watched Charles greet Moira, blue eyes alight with excitement, Erik was stabbed by regret. For a moment, he pondered what his life could be like if he could somehow be the man that Charles wanted him to be. He imagined himself helping start the school, teaching the youngsters to use their abilities, working towards the peaceful future of Charles' imagination. If he could return to the New York estate and relive the happiest days of his adult life.
Then he sensed a mass of metal moving onto the eastern end of the bridge. It was going to be the attack at the beach, all over again. Quickly, he slammed the door to the truck and locked it, hoping that the walls he'd reinforced to block Charles' telepathy would be strong enough to stop flying shrapnel.
"Riptide, get the truck off the bridge," he shouted. "And Hank, move that helicopter! They're not going to distinguish between us!"
But while Riptide jumped into the driver's seat of the truck and put it into gear, Hank was defiant. "Not without Charles and Moira," he called back.
There's no time for this, Erik thought, turning to face the attack in frustration. He saw a bright flash of light, and then another – they'd fired two guns. Instinctively, he threw up his hand to redirect the shells; but they didn't respond to his command. He tried again before he realized that there was no metal in them at all. He was as powerless to stop the shells as when he'd been a young boy desperately trying to move a coin. Looking around quickly, he spotted the metal guardrail. He started to pull it out of the ground, in the frantic hope that he could throw it at the missiles and divert them. But he was too late.
The truck had only moved about a hundred feet when the first shell hit. It impacted on the bridge just in front of the truck, causing Riptide to swerve sharply to avoid the resulting crater. Overbalanced, the truck rolled over onto its side, momentum carrying it in a long, spinning slide towards the edge of the bridge. For a heart-stopping moment, Erik thought it was going to go over, but a remaining section of guardrail caught it, and it came to a stop.
A moment later, the second shell struck the bridge a little further to the west, landing almost exactly at the half-way point between the truck and the helicopter. Hank threw himself at Sean as the edge of the blast approached, driving him to the ground and covering him with his body. As it reached them, the blast dissipated into a wave of pressure and noise that showered them with road fragments but did not injure them.
"You, on the bridge! That was just a warning shot. You have five seconds to surrender or we'll fire again."
Ignoring their demand, Erik ran to the truck. Riptide was just beginning to climb out of the driver's side window, pulling Angel behind him. A cut over her eye was dripping blood down onto her cheek and neck, but she was otherwise unharmed.
"They're using shells without metal," Erik warned as he helped Angel to safety. "I can't control them."
Riptide scowled. "Not a problem for me." Wind began to swirl in his hands.
Further west on the bridge, Hank got to his feet and offered a hand to Sean. "Charles would want us to protect those soldiers. Do what you can to stop Erik and the others. I'm going to try to get Charles and Moira out of the truck."
Inside the truck, Charles and Moira had experienced a sudden lurch; then the world spun crazily. Charles pulled Moira to him, wrapping his arms tightly around her as the truck flipped onto its side. For a long, agonizing moment they were sliding, and then the motion stopped with a jerk.
Check the door, he projected to her.
She nodded and got to her feet, still shaky from their wild ride. She pushed against the door, but it was still locked. "I'll bet Hank could get this open. Can you call him?"
"I can't," he said aloud. "The interior's been covered with the panels from Shaw's sub." He banged his head once against the back of the jump seat, frustrated with his uselessness. He couldn't even get up to help her open the damn door.
Just outside, Hank had arrived at the back of the truck and found it wedged against the guardrail. Let's see just how strong I am, he thought, wrapping his arms around the back corner. He gave a mighty heave, and managed to move it several inches. Just a little more, he thought, and he'd be able to reach the door.
On the eastern side of the bridge, the field artillery crew prepared to fire again. Alex swore and put his head in his hands. He didn't know what to do. Hank had dropped him so quickly, with a simple command: stop Erik and the others if they come back this way. He hadn't told him what to do if they were being fired upon. The Professor would want me to protect the soldiers, he thought, remembering the events on the beach. But he'd want me to protect Hank and the others, too. I don't know how to do both.
And suddenly, the choice was made for him. Angel came soaring overhead, aiming fiery blasts at the artillery crew. State troopers and Marines alike ducked for cover. The way now clear, Alex climbed onto the bridge. Out of the darkness, he saw a large section of the guardrail come flying towards him, aimed by Erik at the men behind. He lashed out with his power, slicing the guardrail into pieces. It separated into glowing ribbons and began falling around him.
Then Riptide's vortex hit, sweeping up the falling guardrails, the howitzers and the shells, the damaged police cars and all into a maelstrom of destruction. Alex curled into a ball at the edge of the bridge, covering his heads with his hands until it passed.
Erik reached out to the helicopter, intending to toss it out of the way. But he hesitated as Sean stepped in front of it, his expression both pained and determined. Sean directed a high-pitched wave at Erik's head. The sound reverberated painfully inside his helmet and forced him to his knees, fighting to stay conscious. Riptide turned and sent a blast of air towards Sean. The teen tried to counter it, but the vortex was more powerful, and he was thrown backwards towards the helicopter.
One of the Marine gunnery units had recovered, quickly pulling their howitzer back into place and loading it with a recovered shell. Alex looked back just in time to see them finish adjusting the angle of the barrel.
"No!" he shouted, waving at them to draw their attention. But whether or not they would have listened to an unknown teenager standing on the bridge, it was too late. The shell roared out of the howitzer, sailing over Alex's head before he could do anything to stop it.
Alex turned and began to sprint across the bridge. He had to stop the shell before it impacted. Knowing it was futile, he sent a blast after it anyway, hoping to destroy it in the air. But his shot was wild. The shell exploded right next to the truck. A large chunk of the bridge broke off and crumbled into the water. Hank was thrown backwards, his head impacting on the ground.
Erik struggled to his feet, dazed from the combination of Sean's attack and the exploding shell. Not far away, Riptide and Hank both lay stunned. Sean was standing as if frozen, staring at a gap in the bridge. The truck was gone.
Erik released a wordless cry of anguish that rattled every bit of metal for miles around.
Charles dangled uncomfortably from the jump seat. The truck had rolled as it sank into the bay, so that the wall to which the seat was bolted was now the ceiling. He called to Moira, both with his voice and mind. She was crumpled in the opposite corner of the truck where she'd been thrown when the truck fell. He was just debating the usefulness of unstrapping himself so that he could fall to the floor with her when she stirred.
"What happened?" she asked, looking up at him in confusion.
"I'm not sure," he replied, recalling the terrifying sensation, "There was some sort of explosion, and then the truck fell."
"We're in the water?" Moira looked in confusion at the pool forming around her. Her eyes traveled over the interior, noticing the little rivulets that seemed to be pouring down every seam in the walls. Though she said nothing aloud, her thoughts were screaming. "We're going to drown."
"Moira, we've been lucky so far. The truck is intact, which may be due to the extra support from Shaw's panels. Even if it fills with water, there's a good chance we'll have an air bubble. We're going to have to find it and hang on until someone comes for us."
"Air bubble," she said, taking a shaky breath. "Okay." She looked at the jump seat, now suspended on the ceiling. "At least we have something to hang onto."
Be brave, he sent. Help will come.
Erik ran to the spot where the truck had been, reaching out over the darkened water. He'd lifted a submarine; lifting a truck would be child's play.
He extended his hands, but a sudden shift in the bridge beneath him threw him to the ground again. A seam opened up, and then the entire section separated from the rest of the bridge. Sean reached out to him as he leapt to safety, catching him just before the section dropped into the water. Certain that the truck would be crushed, Erik tried to lift the bridge section as it fell. Though he could hold the metal supports, the concrete slabs broke away and sank, burying the truck further in the soft silt at the bottom of the bay.
The remaining howitzer prepared to fire again. This time Alex knew that words wouldn't stop them. "Get back", he warned; then sent a blast that destroyed the gun.
The trapped pair heard a horrible groaning sound, followed by several jolts as debris from the bridge sank around them. A corner buckled, opening a small seam and allowing the water to pour in more freely. Charles was still secured in the jump seat, and Moira was beneath him, hanging from the straps in water as deep as her chest. Charles' neck and upper back were already sore from his awkward position, but he tightened his arms around her and forced himself to concentrate on supporting her upper body.
She seemed to sense that he was tiring. "Lay your head down," she said gently. He relaxed and allowed his forehead to rest against her shoulder, relieving the strain on his neck. Her hair was soft against his cheek.
When the water crept as high as Moira's shoulders, he was forced to lift his head, turning his face to the side so that he could breathe. Then the truck's interior lights went out, leaving them in the darkness. Moira's frantic thoughts quieted, and he heard her mind begin to recite, "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want."
Charles wanted to tell her that they weren't going to die here, not like this. But with a half-useless body, a truck that blocked his telepathy and tons of debris pinning them underwater, he was out of options. I'm sorry, Moira.
Not your fault, she replied, sending a wave of mixed sorrow and affection back to him.
He pressed his forehead to hers, and joined her in the familiar litany. "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me..."
The water began to cover their head as they finished. "…and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever."
Just as their last bit of air disappeared, Charles took a deep breath, and pulled Moira into a tender kiss. It seemed a fitting way to say good-bye. While they embraced, he pushed a final command into her mind. Go to sleep. He couldn't save her, but at least he could give her a peaceful passage. Her body stilled in his arms.
Alone now, the air bubble completely gone, he retreated into his own mind; hoping the darkness would claim him before he realized he was drowning.
Erik strained as he tried to lift the fallen section of bridge. He managed to pull one end out of the water, but as it rose, water running off in sheets, several large sections of concrete crumbled off and tumbled back into the depths, reburying the truck.
Suddenly, Sean was standing beside him, using his sonic blast to shatter the chunks of concrete into dust as Erik lifted them. Hank was standing there, too, guiding Sean to direct his blasts where they would do the most good. Together, the three quickly cleared the area around the truck. Meanwhile, Riptide and Angel stood guard against any further attack from the eastern bank.
Erik reached out again, willing the truck to move. This time, it broke free of the muck and began to rise. As swiftly as he could, he brought the truck to the surface and then lifted it onto the bridge. Trembling at what he would find, he pulled the door open. A wave of water washed out, briefly knocking him down. A still form was carried out by the wave, rolling to a stop at his feet. Moira. He looked into the truck, and saw Charles motionless, still strapped into the jump seat.
"Hank, help me," he called, his voice tinged with panic. The two rushed into the truck and unstrapped the motionless man; then gently carried him out and laid him down next to Moira.
Erik knelt beside Charles, put his head down, and listened carefully for a breath. There was none. He rolled Charles onto his side, and landed several sharp blows on his back. Charles coughed once, and water came gushing from his mouth and nose. Erik pounded again, and was rewarded with another bout of coughing and a deep breath. Charles would live. The sudden wave of relief caused Erik to sit back on his heels, and then sag to the ground. He buried his face in his arms.
He looked up when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Time to go," Riptide warned, with a glance back towards the eastern edge of the bridge.
Erik looked around. Sean was next to him, rather timidly patting Moira on the check. Hank stood nearby, just watching.
"That's not going to help her," Erik said.
"But she's breathing," Sean replied, his voice tinged with confusion. "I think she's just asleep."
"Then pick her up," Erik said, "and let's get out of here." Turning to Hank, he added, "We seem to have lost our ride. Would you mind giving us a lift?"
Hank's eyes widened, but he nodded. Together, he and Erik carried the telepath to the helicopter, while Sean and Riptide followed with Moira. Angel climbed in behind them. All together for the first and the last time, they swooped over to the eastern edge of the bridge.
There they found Alex with his hands on his head, once again in the custody of the military. A blast from Sean sent the soldiers to the ground, their helmets and weapons scattering in the wind. Alex ran to the helicopter as it descended to hover just a few feet in the air. He took a flying leap through the open side door, crashing into Sean and sending them both flying.
As they soared away into the night, Sean looked over at Alex. "That's two you owe me, buddy."
