Superman: Dawnbreaker (DC Icons #4)(77)

This wasn’t going to work either.

The chopper was already badly damaged, and Clark worried about Bryan. He still had about 90 percent of the liquid left. Their only hope was to somehow create a mist that would rain down on all the men at once.

But how?

As Bryan lifted the helicopter into the sky, Clark climbed up the side and looked around for some kind of tool he might be able to use. But there was nothing.

He studied Bryan. “You okay?”

Bryan didn’t take his eyes off the battered windshield in front of him. “We have to go again, Clark!” he called over the roar of the helicopter.

“You’re hurt!” Clark pointed at Bryan’s jeans, the right side streaked with blood.

“Please, Clark!” Bryan spun to face him. “I have to do this. I can see that now.”

Clark crouched there, frozen. Bryan had obviously been hit. More than once, by the look of it. He needed medical help. Now. But Clark also saw the conviction in his friend’s eyes.

“One more pass!” Clark shouted. “If this one doesn’t work, I’ll try something else!”

Bryan quickly spun the machine around. “Clark!” he called, without making eye contact. “I’m sorry!”

Clark could feel Bryan’s words land deep inside his chest. “Me too,” he whispered. He wanted to say something more, but there was no time. Instead, he hauled himself and the antidote up onto the side of the helicopter, his head only inches from the violently whipping blades. The soldiers knelt on the crest of the hill, readying themselves for another barrage of gunfire.

Clark didn’t know how much more damage the chopper could withstand. There were bullet holes in the bottom of the fuselage, as well as in both sides. The driveshaft was smoking, and the tail boom was slightly askew. The front windshield was so badly spiderwebbed that he wondered if Bryan could even see where he was flying.

“Ready?” Bryan shouted up to him.

“Ready!” Clark responded. He took a deep breath, and glanced up at the whipping blades.

He knew he only had one shot at this. If it failed, it was over. And he didn’t know what would come next.

He couldn’t think that far ahead.

As soon as the chopper neared, the men in brown began to fire, and this time the barrage was relentless. Clark waited until the last possible second before heaving the entire plastic container up toward the spinning blades.

Time slowed to a crawl as soon as the antidote left Clark’s hands, his brain registering several small details….

The men beneath them, angling their weapons up toward the struggling chopper. The subtle kickback of their weapons after every shot fired.

Bullets punching into his legs and side like firebrands.

The plastic jug colliding with the whipping blades, exploding into a million little pieces, creating a great yellow mist that rained down on everyone and everything below.

Bryan lifted the battered helicopter up into the air, and Clark leaned over the side, watching in awe. Dozens of men stopped firing at once. They dropped their weapons in bewilderment and stood around looking at one another.

The air was thick with the antidote, but in seconds the cloud dissipated, revealing the ground below, coated in yellow, as if the soldiers were kneeling in a field of bright yellow marigolds.

Clark was about to climb back into the cockpit of the helicopter to check on Bryan, when he spotted Montgomery jumping into one of the large trucks, trying to escape the cops who had him surrounded. They aimed their weapons at the vehicle as Montgomery sped directly at two police cruisers parked sideways. Bullets pierced the truck’s windshield, but Montgomery managed to crash through the small gap between the cruisers and sped down the old country road.

Clark dropped off the top of the helicopter and extended his right arm outward, zipping through the air as everyone below looked up, audibly gasping. He crashed through tree limbs on his descent and flew to the driver’s-side window of the truck. When Montgomery spotted him, he panicked, cranking the steering wheel to the right, and crashed right into a tree. The front of the vehicle folded in on itself and the airbags deployed, trapping a bloody-faced Montgomery in his seat as the car alarm blared.

Two police cruisers screeched to a stop beside the truck. Officers flung open their doors and yanked Montgomery out of the cab and onto the ground, where they cuffed him on the spot.

Clark looked up and saw Bryan’s helicopter now hurtling out of the sky.

He sprinted a short stretch before taking flight again. With a desperate lunge, he made it to the battered helicopter just before it crashed. This time Clark didn’t even bother with the chopper itself. He yanked Bryan out the side door seconds before the machine hit the ground at a tremendous speed. It exploded on impact.

The plume of fire that rose from the crash site caused Clark to tumble in the air while he clutched Bryan’s limp body in his arms. When Clark finally regained control, he saw several slick swatches of blood oozing through his friend’s shirt.

He’d taken two bullets in the chest.

One in the stomach.

Clark hurried to the ground, laying Bryan down gently on a pale yellow patch of dirt. He immediately started CPR, pumping Bryan’s chest desperately. He pinched his friend’s nose and breathed into his mouth. Clark repeated this process again and again and again, his own heart racing, bile rising up into his throat.

But there was no pulse in Bryan’s limp body.