The Genome Project

by Aaron Hodges

  And between the bunks stood her new roommates.

  The boy and girl stared back at Liz and Christopher. The boy stood well over six feet, his muscled shoulders and arms dwarfing the girl beside him. His skin was the dark hue of a Native American, except where a scar stretched down his right arm. Black hair hung around his razor-sharp face, and hawkish brown eyes studied her with detached curiosity.

  The girl beside him could not have been a starker contrast. Her pale skin practically shone in the overhead lights, unmarked by so much as a freckle, and at around five foot three, she barely came up to the boy’s chest. She stood with arms folded, her posture defensive, though with her thin frame Liz doubted she could fend off a toddler. Long hair hung down to her waist, the scarlet locks well-trimmed but unwashed. Had it not been for that, Liz might have thought she’d just finished a photoshoot.

  But on closer inspection, Liz noticed the faint marks of bruises on her arms, the traces of purple on her cheeks, and dark circles beneath her tawny yellow eyes. Cuts and old scars marked her knuckles, and several of her once-long nails were broken.

  Maybe not so harmless after all, Liz mused.

  The boy from the cages, Christopher, stood beside her, completing their party of four. Although it wasn’t much of a party. So far they’d gone a full minute without speaking.

  Outside, the last thud of boots ceased, and the crash of the outer doors closing heralded the departure of their escort.

  Between the bunks, the boy came to life. “Welcome to hell.” He spoke with a northern accent as he offered a hand. “I’m Sam, I’ll be your captain today. Ashley here will be your hostess.”

  Beside him, Ashley rolled her eyes but did not speak.

  Liz winced as she recognized the urban twang. With her pale skin, it was obvious the girl had never spent any time in the sun tending to crops or livestock, but Liz had at least hoped she might share a kinship with the boy. A lonely sorrow rose within her as she wrapped her arms around herself. It seemed not only was she to be locked away, but her roommates were going to be a bunch of kids straight out of prep school.

  “Ah…” Christopher sounded confused by their new roommate’s banter. “My name’s Chris, and ah…this is Elizabeth, I guess.”

  Liz heard the shuffling of feet, no doubt the sound of the two shaking hands. Shivering, she blinked back the sudden tears that sprang to her eyes, determined to keep her weakness to herself. Her head throbbed where the guards had struck her, and a dull ache came from the small of her back.

  The tremor came again, the cold air of the room eating at her resistance. She looked up to find three sets of eyes studying her. A frown creased Sam’s forehead and his mouth opened, as though to ask a question, but she turned away before he could speak. A sudden yearning to be alone took her, a need for the peaceful quiet of open fields and forests. The concrete walls seemed to be closing on her, the still air suffocating.

  Her eyes found the beds, taking in the unmade sheets on the bottom two. The sheets of the top bunks were pulled tight, untouched by sleep.

  Without a word, she stumbled past Sam and Ashley and grasped at the ladder. Arms shaking, she pulled herself up and rolled onto the hard mattress of her new bed.

  “She’s a friendly one,” Sam’s voice carried up to her, but Liz only closed her eyes, and willed away the sounds. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she tried to still her racing heart.

  “She’s just scared,” was Chris’s uncertain reply.

  You’re wrong, she thought.

  She was angry, horrified, frustrated, and more than anything in the world she just wanted to curl up in a corner and cry. But instead, she found herself trapped in a tiny cell with three teenagers from the city—two young men and a woman who would never understand her, her past.

  “She should be,” said Sam, his voice taking on a bitter tone, “you two haven’t even seen the worst of it yet.”

  Sam’s voice put Liz on edge, dragging her back from the peace she sought, but she kept her mouth shut. Scuffling came from below as the three moved, then her bunk shifted as someone sat on the bed underneath her. Cracking open one eye, Liz saw the two boys still standing, and guessed Ashley had retreated to her bed.

  “I don’t plan on sticking around to find out,” Chris spoke in a hoarse whisper. “I have to get out of here.”

  Laughter followed his statement. “Don’t we all, kid,” Sam replied jokingly, “but it’s kind of a one-way ticket.”

  “I don’t care.” Chris’s voice was sharp with anger. “Fallow…that woman, she took my mother. I can’t, I can’t let anything happen to her.”

  “Tough luck, kid. Wherever she is, she’s going to have to cope without you. The only way out of here is in a body bag. Just be glad it wasn’t our pal Doctor Halt who grabbed her—although I’m sure he could arrange a reunion if you asked him nicely.”

  Below, Chris swore. “How can you joke?” he snarled, his voice rising. “Don’t you understand? There’s been some mistake. My mother hasn’t done anything wrong. Her father died in the American War; she would never betray the WAS—”

  “And you think we’re any different?” the larger boy snapped, the humor falling from his voice. “You think we all conspired against the government? Don’t be a fool. There’s no going back, no changing things now. Not for any of us.”

  Silence fell over the cell. A grin tugged at Liz’s lips as she embraced the quiet, taking the opportunity to calm her roiling thoughts. The lights were bright overhead, burning through her eyelids, but at least the assault on her ears had ceased. Thinking of the other three, she felt a pang of empathy, a sadness for their loss. They were orphans now too, same as her.

  Perhaps she was not so alone, after all.

  “It doesn’t matter.” Chris’s voice came as a whisper now. “I’ll find a way.”

  Sam chuckled. “You and what army? Even if you could remove that collar, if you could break out of this cell, where would you go? Who would help you, Chris? You’re the son of a traitor, a fugitive without rights.”

  A rustling came from below, followed by a yelp. Liz’s eyes widened as Chris pushed Sam up against the wall.

  “She’s not a traitor,” Chris retorted, “and like I said, it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to sit here and give up. I’m not going to let them win.”

  Sam’s eyes hardened and he reached up with deliberate slowness to remove Chris’s hands from his shirt.

  “Listen, kid.” His voice was threatening now. “You still don’t get it, do you? We mean nothing to these people. You’ll find that out tomorrow, how little your life means. They’ll kill you the second you cross them.”

  “Let them try,” Chris snapped.

  Sam’s face darkened, and then it was his turn to grab Chris by the shirt. Without apparent effort, he lifted Chris off the ground, leaving the smaller boy kicking feebly at empty air.

  “Believe me, I couldn’t care less if you get yourself killed,” Sam snapped, “but since we’re trapped in here together, chances are, your stupidity will get us all executed—”

  Sam broke off as Chris twisted in his grasp and drove a foot into the larger boy’s stomach. Air exploded between Sam’s teeth as he staggered backwards, dropping Chris unceremoniously. Chris landed lightly on his feet and straightened, eyeing Sam from across the cell.

  Liz raised an eyebrow as the two faced off against each other.

  “Enough!” A girl’s sharp voice cut the air.

  The two boys jumped as Ashley strode forward with a catlike grace to stand between them. She turned to Sam and placed a hand on his chest. Her eyes flickered from him to Chris, a gentle smile warming her face.

  “Enough,” she said again, softly this time. Even so, there was strength to her words.

  Liz watched with surprise as Sam’s shoulders slumped, his tension fleeing at Ashley’s touch. Chris stared, his eyes hesitant, before lowering his fists. The smile still on her lips, Ashley gave a quick nod.

  “We can’t fight amo
ngst ourselves,” she chided, like a teacher reprimanding her students. “Sam, you know that better than anyone. We need each other.”

  She turned towards Chris then, her eyes soft. “Chris, I know you’re afraid, that you’re terrified for your mother. I know it’s awful, that you’re confused. But you must calm yourself. Your mother would not want you to throw your life away.”

  Liz blinked, shocked by the calm manner with which Ashley had taken control of the situation. Despite her reservations, she found herself warming to the girl.

  Below, Ashley turned back to Sam. “Sam, you can’t hide behind that charade. Not from me.” She paused, her tawny eyes watching him. “Not after everything we’ve been through.”

  Sam bowed his head. “You caught me, as usual,” he said with a shrug, before throwing himself down on his bed. “I still don’t want him getting us all killed, though!”

  Ashley nodded. Her eyes swept the room, lingering for a second as they caught Liz watching her, before turning to Chris. She approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “You are not alone, Chris,” she whispered. “Wherever you came from before, we are in this together now. We’re family, you and I. All of us.” Ashley’s voice shook as she spoke. “And you’re right. We can’t just give up. We will find a way out of here, together. Whoever these people are, they are only human. They’re not perfect. Eventually they’ll make a mistake, leave some hole in their defenses. And when they do, we’ll be ready for them; we’ll take our chance.”

  Liz’s heart lurched as the yellow eyes flickered back to her. “That goes for you too, Elizabeth.”

  Warmth spread to Liz’s cheeks as the other girl watched her. She nodded slowly, struggling to cover her embarrassment. Listening to Ashley’s words, she could almost feel a flicker of hope stir inside her. Maybe she wasn’t alone after all. Whatever their differences, Ashley was right. They were in this together now.

  Sitting up, Liz placed her hands on the bed and propelled herself off the side. She landed lightly, her bare feet slapping against the concrete, and straightened in front of Ashley. A smile, genuine now, tugged at her lips, but she tried to maintain a stoic expression. She didn’t want to get too far ahead of herself—they were still from the city, after all.

  Liz took a deep breath and offered Ashley her hand.

  “You can call me Liz.”

  Part 2

  Tryouts

  11

  Chris exhaled hard as he rounded the final bend in the track, his lungs burning with the exertion. Pain tore through his calves and his stomach gave a sickening lurch, but he pressed on. The dusty track gripped easily beneath his bare feet, propelling him on towards the finish line. From behind came the ragged breathing of the others, some hot on his heels, others a long way back.

  Allowing himself a smile, Chris glanced to the side, and almost tripped when he saw Liz draw alongside him. The black-haired girl had her head down, eyes fixed to the track, and was picking up the pace. Panting hard, Chris followed suit, and side by side, they raced down the final straight.

  Over the last few yards, Chris’s feet barely touched the ground. Shadows swirled at the edges of his vision, exhaustion threatening. Through the darkness, he glimpsed Liz pulling ahead, saw her wild grin as she crossed the line a millisecond before him.

  Drawing to a stop beside her, Chris shook his head, his mouth unable to form words. Bending in two, he sucked in a mouthful of air. He felt lightheaded, his lungs aflame. It took him a full minute to catch his breath. By then the others had finished up the race.

  Lowering himself to the ground, Chris blinked sweat from his eyes. Using one large orange sleeve, he wiped his forehead clear and shook his head at Liz.

  “You’re fast,” he croaked.

  It was the second day since their awakening, and the two of them had still barely spoken. Despite her reluctant greeting in the cell, Liz remained withdrawn.

  The young woman only shrugged. Two blue eyes glanced down, then away. “It’s the air,” she breathed. “We’re in the mountains—I can taste it. You’re probably not used to the altitude.”

  Chris nodded, stars still dancing across his vision. A groan built in his throat as he saw Liz straighten, but he pushed it down and lifted himself to his feet. Ignoring the ache in his muscles, they joined the others.

  Sam and Ashley stood with their hands on their hips, looking like they’d barely broken a sweat. Chris cursed himself for exerting so much energy. Who knew what else the day had in store for them?

  Yesterday, he and Liz had been taken into a laboratory and put through a series of tests. The doctors had worked with a cool efficiency, asking questions, giving instructions, taking measurements, all the while steadfastly refusing to engage with their captives. Behind the doctors, the guards had been colder still, their hard eyes following the prisoners’ every movement.

  The tests had been simple enough, little more than a thorough examination by the local GP. But now, it seemed, the easy part was over. That morning they had been roused in the early hours by a shrieking alarm and the sudden brilliance of overhead lights. For a few seconds Chris had tried to resist, exhausted after a long night spent tossing and turning, unable to sleep. But Sam and Ashley had been insistent, dragging them from their beds to stand for inspection.

  Within minutes, the guards had marched past. A doctor had accompanied them, pausing outside each cell to make notes on his electronic tablet. Chris had shivered as the man’s eyes fell on him. There was a mindless, mechanical way in which he took the roster, as though this was no more than an inventory check at the grocery store.

  When the doctor had departed, the guards returned with a trolley. The hallway had rung with the sound of bowls sliding through metal grates. Chris had stared for a long while at the oatmeal congealing in his bowl before the rumbling of his stomach won him over. Resigning himself, he’d taken up his spoon and eaten all he could.

  Then their escort of doctors and guards had arrived, taking them from the quiet of their cell and marching them through the facility to this field—if it could be called that. The open space was the size of a football field, but there was not a blade of grass in sight.

  Instead, a fine dust covered the ground, spreading out across the oval like snow. A running track ran around its circumference, edged by tall, imposing walls that hemmed them in on all sides. The cold grey concrete stretched up almost thirty feet, interspersed with the metal railings of observation decks. A dozen guards looked down on them, rifles held in ready arms. The only building was a stone tower that rose some forty feet from the center of the field.

  Overhead, the sun beat down from a cloudless blue sky. The world outside was hidden by the walls, and whether Liz’s mountains existed beyond remained a mystery.

  Other than the doctors and their escort of guards, the field was empty. The doctors had made quick notes on their ever-present tablets, before nodding to the guards. Orders had been barked, and the four of them had set off running.

  Now they stood together in a little circle, panting softly as they waited for the next command. The doctors hovered nearby, their attention fixed on their tablets, talking quietly amongst themselves. The guards stood nearby, their dark eyes fixed on the prisoners.

  Beyond the little group of overseers, a red light started to flash above the door they’d entered through. A buzzer sounded, short and sharp. The guards straightened, turning to face the entrance as the door gave a loud click and swung inwards.

  Another group of doctors entered, followed by four prisoners in matching orange uniforms. Chris scanned the faces of the doctors, searching for Fallow, but there was no sign of her. His shoulders slumped and he clenched his fists, struggling to contain his disappointment. The woman was his only remaining link to his mother, but Fallow had been conspicuously absent since their initiation.

  As the group walked towards them, Chris sensed movement beside him. Glancing at the others, he was surprised to see Sam’s face harden, the easy smile slip
ping from his lips. The older boy grasped Ashley by the wrist, nodding in the direction of the newcomers. Ashley’s face paled and she stumbled sideways before Sam caught her.

  “What?” Chris hissed.

  The two glanced at one another and then shook their heads. “Nothing,” Sam muttered.

  The new group of inmates reached them before Chris could ask anything more. They hovered a few paces away, three boys and a girl, studying Chris and the others with suspicion. Chris stared back, wondering at the reaction of Sam and Ashley.

  Clearing his throat, one of the doctors stepped between the two groups. He glanced at his tablet, then left and right. “Ashley and Samuel. Richard and Jasmine. You have already qualified for the next round of trials. You’re here to ensure your health does not deteriorate.”

  Chris watched a flicker of discomfort cross the faces of a boy and girl in the opposite group, and guessed they were the ones the man was addressing. Richard sported short blond hair and angry green eyes that did not waver from Ashley and Sam. He was almost a foot shorter than Sam, but more than matched the larger boy for muscle. He kept his arms crossed tight, his stocky shoulders hunched, and a scowl fixed on his face.

  The girl, who he guessed was Jasmine, stood head to head with Richard, a matching glare on her lips. Her hair floated in the breeze, the black locks brushing across her face. The skin around her brown eyes pinched as she turned towards Chris and caught him staring. Air hissed between her teeth as she raised one eyebrow.

  Chris quickly looked away, his heart beginning to race. The doctor standing between them had turned his attention back to them.

  “Elizabeth, Christopher, today we will test your fitness and athleticism, to assess your suitability for the next stage of the program. William and Joshua will be joining you. I suggest you get acquainted.”

  Chris’s gaze drifted to the other two boys, and found them staring back. Their eyes did not hold the same animosity as Jasmine’s and Richard’s, just a wary distrust. The one on the left was a scrawny stickman of a figure, his long arms and legs little more than bone. Sharp cheekbones stood out on his face, and his jade-green eyes held more than a hint of fear. The other was larger, his arms well-muscled, but he did not match Richard or Sam for sheer bulk. He stood several inches above Chris’s five-foot-eleven, and had long blond hair that hung down around his shoulders.