by Aaron Hodges
The Genome Project
Book 1 of The Evolution Gene
Aaron Hodges
Contents
About the Author
Also by Aaron Hodges
I. Applicants
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
II. Tryouts
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
III. Rebirth
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
IV. Escape
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
V. Flight
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Enjoyed This Book?
Note from the Author
Also by Aaron Hodges
The Pursuit of Truth
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Edited by Genevieve Lerner
Cover Art by Deranged Doctor Designs
Copyright © March 2019 Aaron Hodges.
Second Edition
All rights reserved.
The National Library of New Zealand
ISBN-13: 978-09951202-04
Aaron Hodges was born in 1989 in the small town of Whakatane, New Zealand. He studied for five years at the University of Auckland, completing a Bachelor of Science in Biology and Geography, and a Masters of Environmental Engineering. After working as an environmental consultant for two years, he grew tired of the 9 to 5 and decided to quit his job to travel the world. During his travels he picked up the old draft of a novel he once wrote in High School—titled ‘The Sword of Light’—and began to rewrite the story. Six months later he published his first novel—Stormwielder.
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Also by Aaron Hodges
The Evolution Gene
Book 1: The Genome Project
Book 2: The Pursuit of Truth
Book 3: The Way the World Ends
The Sword of Light Trilogy
Book 1: Stormwielder
Book 2: Firestorm
Book 3: Soul Blade
Legend of the Gods
Book 1: Oathbreaker
Book 2: Shield of Winter
Book 3: Dawn of War
For the child inside us all.
Let them soar.
Part 1
Applicants
1
“Another pint, hun?”
Liz gritted her teeth as a man’s voice carried to her from across the bar. Sucking in a breath, she forced a smile to her lips and looked around for the speaker. She found him sitting alone at a table in the corner, a drunken grin stretching across his unshaven cheeks. He caught her gaze and waved his empty mug.
Taking care to keep the smile plastered to her face, Liz walked across the diner to take his order.
“Just the beer, sir?” she asked, taking his mug. “It’s last call.”
He squinted at her as though struggling to understand her words. He was swaying slightly in his chair, and Liz was quite sure he’d already had enough. Unfortunately, her manager, Andrew, was never one to refuse a paying customer.
Finally, the man belched and waved the glass at her stomach. “What else is on the menu, love?”
He said the words with a leer that made Liz want to rip the mug from his hand and smash it over his head. Instead, all she did was smile sweetly. “Just the usual,” she said, trying to keep the anger from her voice. “Kitchen is closed, though.”
“Not interested in the kitchen.” He leaned forward in his chair, and the stench of garlic and cigarettes wafted over Liz. “But I always wanted a taste of something rural.”
Liz’s stomach churned, and in a flash of anger she snatched the glass from the man’s grease-stained fingers. Then, steeling herself, she took a breath, and forced a laugh. “Grass Valley Ale it is!”
Without waiting for a response, she spun on her heel and strode back through the maze of tables. Her neck prickled as she sensed his gaze on her, but she did not glance back. Retreating behind the bar, she added the dirty glass to the growing stack of dishes she had to tackle after closing, and took a fresh one from beneath the bar.
Liz paused as she turned and caught the man’s beady eyes watching her from the corner. He had to be at least forty—more than twice her own seventeen years. Steadfastly ignoring his gaze, she poured out a pint of Grass Valley Ale.
“Keeping our guests happy I hope, Liz?” She jumped as Andrew appeared beside her.
At six-foot-five with a buzz cut and heavily built shoulders, Andrew towered over Liz’s meagre five feet and two inches. He had served five years with the Western Allied States military before retiring from active duty and starting his own bar here in Sacramento. Or so he claimed on the memoire plastered on the back of every menu. It wasn’t like there was any way to verify his story—even in the city, computers and the internet were only accessible to the rich. Where she’d grown up, they’d been lucky just to have electricity.
Crossing his tattooed arms, Andrew raised an eyebrow. She quickly flicked off the tap and placed the pint on a serving tray. “He’s just drunk, Andrew,” she muttered. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“I didn’t say handle him,” Andrew replied coldly. “I said keep him happy.”
Liz swallowed as he stared down at her, but she stood her ground. “That’s what the beer’s for.” She nodded at the mug, taking advantage of the opportunity to break eye contact. “I’d better not keep him waiting.”
Snatching up the metal tray, she raced back out amongst the tables. The other customers ignored her as she made her way between them. There were only a few occupied tables left now, and she was the last waitress on duty. It was a Tuesday night and her remaining patrons were mostly men in their thirties and forties—too young to have fought in the war that had claimed so many of their fathers.
“One Grass Valley Ale,” Liz announced cheerfully as she placed the beer in front of the dark-eyed man. “Is that the lot for the night?”
Without answering, the man swept up the beer and gulped half of it down in a single swallow. He let out a long sigh as he placed it back on the table. “I like the taste.” Before she could react, his arm shot out and wrapped around her waist. “Matter of fact, it’s made me hungry for the real thing.” He laughed as he dragged her forward.
Liz’s heart dropped into the pit of her stomach as she felt his hand grasping her backside. The awful stench of his breath smothered her. Puckering up his lips, he tried to kiss her. She twisted away, the tray still clutched in one hand, and tried to shove him off. But even drunk, he was twice her size, and too strong to resist in such confined quarters.
“What? Think you’re too good for me, ya little rural tramp?” His other hand came up, going for her breasts. “Come on, sweets, you know—”
Whatever he’d been about to say was cut off as Liz gripped her serving tray in both hands and brought it down on his head. A satisfying clang echoed through the room as it struck, and the hand vanished from around her waist.
The man reeled back in his chair, hands clutching at his face. Blood dribbled from a gash on his forehead, tangling with his greying hair. He lurched to his feet with a roar, sending the table and his freshly poured ale crashing to the ground. The sound of breaking glass was punctuated by his screams as Liz retreated a step, holding the tray in front of her like a shield. Her assailant swung his fists blindly in her direction, but alcohol had dimmed his senses and his blows met only empty air. Face beet red and cursing, he staggered in her direction.
“Oy!” Andrew’s voice cut through the man’s shouts like a knife.
Liz glanced back and saw him stepping out from behind the bar, the baseball bat he used to threaten rowdy customers grasped in hand.
“What’s going on here?” he shouted as he marched towards them. The other patrons watched on, eyes wide, silent.
The drunkard took another step towards Liz before he seemed to catch himself. His eyes flickered uncertainly at Andrew, then back to her. “The little tramp hit me!”
Anger flickered in Liz’s stomach. Throwing caution to the wind, she drew her lips back in a sneer. “Why don’t you call me that one more time?” she growled, flourishing the tray.
Before her assailant had a chance to answer, Andrew caught Liz by the collar and hauled her back. She cried out as the tray slipped from her fingers and landed on her foot. Cursing, she staggered sideways, but before she could regain her balance, Andrew shoved her again, sending her crashing into an empty table.
“Out!” Andrew screamed, waving his bat above his head.
Liz scrambled back across the wooden floor, feeling the dried beer sticking to her clothes. Once out of range of his bat, she picked herself up and stood facing him. Heat rushed to her face. She struggled to keep from shaking as she clenched her fists.
“What?” she said through gritted teeth.
“I said out!” Andrew repeated, pointing the bat at her chest. “I’ve had enough of you. Your lot aren’t worth the trouble.”
Now Liz really was shaking. She opened her mouth to argue, and then snapped it closed again. Glancing around the room, she saw the eyes of everyone watching her. Ice spread through her chest as she looked back at her boss.
“What about my pay?” She tried to keep her voice as calm as possible.
“Consider it compensation for the damages.” Sneering, he took a step towards her, until the bat prodded her in the chest.
Stomach twisting, Liz considered standing her ground. She needed that money—especially after the attention she had just attracted. She would have to move again now, pack her things and leave the room she’d already paid a month in advance for. With only the measly tips she’d made earlier in the night, she wouldn’t have the cash for another room.
But she could see this was not a fight she was going to win. Letting out a long breath, she flicked a strand of curly black hair from her eyes and snorted. “Good riddance,” she spat.
Spinning on her heel, she headed for the door. Her face burned as half a dozen eyes followed her. As she passed the last table, she paused, then lurched sideways, upending its contents onto the floor. The two men sitting there shouted and jumped to their feet as beer splattered them. By the time they turned their attention on her, Liz was already gone.
Outside, Liz blinked, struggling with the sudden darkness. The bar had no windows facing the road, and with the streetlight out front broken, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. Not knowing if anyone was going to come after her, she quickly started off along the street, her hands still trembling with pent-up rage.
“Hope you enjoy cleaning up,” she muttered under her breath.
Internally though, she cursed herself, even as she tried to contrive a plan that didn’t involve sleeping on the streets for the rest of winter. Staying in this suburb was no longer an option—not after the commotion she’d just caused. Even though Andrew had been paying her under the table, it wouldn’t take long for rumors to spread about the ferocious rural girl he’d employed. Then it would only be a matter of time before someone came asking questions.
Taking the next street on her right, Liz disappeared into the shadows between the buildings. She was on the outskirts of Sacramento, California, where the streets were still relatively quiet, free of the traffic clogging the center. Even so, she could never quite feel comfortable in a city. The countryside was her home—as everyone here was quick to remind her—but there was no work for her there. And while she could get by on what she trapped and scavenged in the summer, she couldn’t stand the thought of another winter exposed to the icy elements.
So at the first whiff of cold, Liz had packed up her rucksack and headed for Sacramento. It was a long way from her hometown, but she was terrified anywhere closer might raise suspicions, make it easier for them to find her.
Until now, she had thought she’d made the right choice. From the tips she’d scraped together at the bar, she’d managed to rent what amounted to a closet in the basement of an apartment building. It was cold and damp, containing nothing more than a moldy mattress, but it was better than being woken up by falling snow. And it was off the books, too—safe.
But winter was barely a month old, and she’d already blown it. Her teeth chattered as a cold wind whirled down the street, and Liz cursed herself for leaving her hole-ridden coat back in the bar. There would be no going back for it now. Scowling, she shoved her hands into the tiny pockets of her jeans and did her best to ignore the cold.
Liz glanced around again as she passed beneath a flickering streetlight. The urbanites could say whatever they liked about their shining condos—she still felt safer wandering the streets of any rural village than she did here. While she hadn’t been troubled yet, she now kept a knife in her boot at all times. It paid to be prepared.
Unseen clouds blacked out the moon and stars, and the next streetlamp was a good two hundred yards away. Liz’s heart started to race as the darkness pressed in around her. She picked up the pace, berating herself for her paranoia.
Reaching the next corner, Liz let out a long breath as she realized it was her street. Preoccupied, she’d lost track of the turns, but somehow had still ended up in the right place. Pulling her hands from her pockets, she power-walked towards the cul-de-sac at the end of the lane. Her apartment building was dark, and the only illumination was a flickering streetlight hovering above the turnabout.
Halfway down her street, Liz caught the faintest whisper of something behind her. Goosebumps shot down her neck, and she looked back slowly, expecting to see a stray dog wandering across the road…
…and screamed as a shadow rushed towards her.
Adrenaline kicked in as the man lunged, and she lurched back, hearing the whoosh as a fist shot past her head. A curse followed, then the weight of his body crashed into her. But she was ready now, already pivoting on her heel, allowing his bulk to slide by her. The man staggered past, and she leapt, driving her foot into the small of his back to send him toppling to the ground.
Then she was sprinting away, eyes fixed on the light at the end of the lane, and the iron door to her apartment building. If she could just make it inside…
Liz barely managed five steps before two men emerged from the shadows ahead, cutting off her escape. She staggered to a stop as they started towards her. Neither spoke, but they moved with a deliberate calm, as though they had all the time in the world to catch her.
Ice spread through Liz’s veins as she turned to flee back down the lane, and found her first attacker on his feet, barring the way. For an i
nstant she froze, her insides turning to liquid, panic taking hold. But it only lasted a second—there was no time for hesitation out on the streets.
Dropping to one knee, she inconspicuously slipped the knife from her boot, and then leapt at the first man. A low growl rumbled from her throat as her anger took light. It had already been a bad night—she wasn’t about to let these thugs make it worse.
The man hadn’t seen her knife. His teeth gleamed in the light of the distant lamp as he smiled and opened his arms to catch her. The next second, he was staggering backwards, eyes blinking rapidly as he reached for the blade embedded in his chest.
Sneering at his surprise, Liz tried to yank back her weapon, but he sagged to the ground before she could dislodge it. She cursed, wasting half a second considering going after it, and then leapt free—only for his thrashing arms to take her legs out from under her. She crashed into the asphalt, her bones jarring at the impact. Fabric tore around her knees as she scrambled back to her feet.
