The Genome Project

by Aaron Hodges

  Seeing neither of the two were about to introduce themselves, Chris made to step towards them, but Sam’s hand flashed out, catching him by the shoulder. Chris glanced at the larger boy and raised an eyebrow, but Sam only shook his head. Settling back into line, Chris glanced at Liz and saw his own confusion reflected in her eyes. Ashley’s hand was clenched around Liz’s wrist, holding her back.

  The doctor glanced between the two groups, and with a shrug, pressed on. “Very well.” He cleared his throat. “All of you, line up.” He paused as the eight of them moved hesitantly to stand in one line, and then nodded. “Today—”

  The doctor broke off as the buzzer by the entrance sounded again. As one, the group turned towards the door. Chris shuddered as he saw Doctor Halt striding towards them.

  12

  Doctor Halt’s arms swung casually at his sides, as though this were no more than a Sunday stroll for him. A smile played across his thin lips. He drew to a stop alongside the doctor that had been addressing them.

  “Doctor Radly,” he said, his voice like honey. “How goes training day?”

  “…Good,” Radly answered with hesitation. He was obviously surprised to see Halt. “How can I help you, sir?”

  Soft laughter whispered from Halt’s lips. “I thought I might assist.” His eyes slid over the group of prisoners. “We need to advance our schedule—the Director is demanding results.”

  Radly bit his lips, eyeing Chris and the others uncertainly. “We have four candidates ready in this unit. We still need time to assess the remaining four. Most of the other units are on a similar progression.”

  Shaking his head, Halt strode down the line of prisoners. When Halt had passed, Chris risked a glance at the others. Sam and Ashley stared straight ahead, steadfastly ignoring the presence of Richard and Jasmine beside them. On Chris’s other side, Liz stood with her arms folded, while beyond the two newcomers wore uncertain frowns.

  The crunch of gravel warned Chris of Halt’s return, and he quickly faced straight ahead again. The man stared hard at Chris as he passed, then moved on to Liz. The thud of his boots continued down the line as he went on to examine Joshua and William, before returning once again.

  Scowling, Halt returned to Doctor Radly. He pointed at Liz, then to the lanky boy from the other group. “Those two.” He scowled. “Pitiful creatures if ever I saw them. They won’t last long.”

  Radly opened his mouth, then closed it. Glancing at his e-tablet, he shook his head and looked back at Halt. “Sir, we have a framework in place…” He trailed off beneath Halt’s withering stare.

  Silence fell across the group of doctors. Chris glanced sideways at Liz, his heart beating hard against his chest. The girl stood staring straight ahead, her brow creased, fists clenched at her side. Though she did not move an inch, Chris could sense the tension building in her tiny frame, like a cat preparing to spring.

  “Well, let’s see,” came Halt’s voice again. A second later he strode past Chris and stopped in front of Liz. “Elizabeth Flores.” He looked her up and down, but Liz did nothing to acknowledge his presence. Nodding, Halt moved onto his next victim. “William Beth.” He smirked. “A sorry excuse for a man.”

  A tremor went through the boy as he stepped back and raised his hands. “Please, sir, please, I’ll do whatever you say.”

  Halt advanced, and the boy stumbled backwards. His feet slipped in the dust and he crashed to the ground. Towering over him, Halt sneered. “Pathetic,” he spat. “Get up.”

  William nodded. He scrambled to his feet, eyes wide with terror. “Please—”

  His plea was cut short as Halt’s hand flashed out and caught him by the throat. Without apparent effort, the doctor hoisted the boy into the air. William gave a half-choked scream, his face paling. His hands batted at Halt’s arm, his legs kicking feebly in the air, but Halt did not waver. He watched with cold grey eyes as the boy’s struggles slowly grew weaker.

  Chris watched in horror, his mouth open in a silent scream. A voice in his head shouted for him to help the boy, but as he shifted, an iron hand caught him by the wrist. He glanced back, opening his mouth to argue, but the words died on his lips. There was a cold despair in Sam’s eyes, a haggard look to his face. Slowly, he shook his head.

  Turning back, Chris watched as Halt tossed William aside. A low groan came from the boy as he landed, his legs collapsing beneath him. Dust billowed as he fell. Gasping for breath, he struggled to his hands and knees and tried to crawl away.

  Halt followed at a casual stroll. Without taking his eyes from the boy, he spoke. “You are all here by my will. But I have no use for the weak.” Apparently losing patience with his victim, he drove his boot into the small of the boy’s back. William collapsed face-first into the ground.

  Lifting his foot, Halt stared down at the boy. “Get up.”

  Arms shaking, William managed to lift himself to his hands and knees. His face beet-red, he looked up at Halt. Swaying where he crouched, a tremor shook him, but he made no move to stand.

  “Wretched specimen,” Halt growled. “Well, if won’t get off your hands and knees, it’ll have to be pushups.”

  A confused look came over the boy’s face. “Push…pushups?”

  “Yes.” Halt took a step closer, his face darkening. “This is your last chance to prove yourself.”

  William shook his head. “I…what?”

  “Now!” Halt glanced at the other doctors, who stood unmoving, their eyes on the trembling prisoner. “Radly, you can call the count.”

  At Halt’s feet, a sharp sob came from William. Slowly, he placed his hands on the ground and spread his legs. As Radly shouted out each number, William lowered himself to within an inch of the ground and then straightened his arms again.

  Chris and the others watched on as Radly continued to count. Beside him, Liz’s expression was unreadable, though there was a slight sheen to her eyes.

  As Radly reached fifteen, William’s arms began to tremble. His breath came in ragged gasps and his face flushed red. A shudder ran through his bony body, and with a sob he collapsed to the ground. A triumphant grin spread across Halt’s face.

  “Sixteen,” Radly repeated the call.

  “Please,” William coughed, lying with limbs splayed across the ground, “please, please I can’t!”

  “Keep going,” Halt snarled.

  He tried, no one could take that from him. Veins bulging in his forehead, teeth clenched, arms shaking with the effort, the boy managed half a pushup before he collapsed again. This time he didn’t bother to beg, but just lay staring up at Halt, a haunted look in his eyes.

  Halt glanced at Chris and the others. “In case you were wondering, this is what ‘weakness’ looks like.” His cold eyes still on them, Halt reached down and tapped the sleek black glass of his watch.

  Chris flinched as an awful scream came from the boy. He stumbled backwards as William started to thrash, half-gasped screams clawing their way up from his throat. Eyes wide and staring, William’s head slammed back against the ground. His fingers bent, scrambling at the steel collar around his neck, even as another convulsion tore through him.

  Panic gripped Chris and he stepped towards the boy. Sam’s iron grasp stopped him again, pulling him back. Chris swore, struggling to break free, unable to stand by and watch the torture any longer. But Sam stood unyielding, though his eyes never left the convulsing boy. Ashley stood as still as a statue, her eyes fixed on William, her face expressionless. Her scarlet hair blew across her face, but she did not so much as raise a hand to brush it away.

  The fight went from Chris in a rush.

  “Such a shame, to see our people come to this,” Halt said, his words slithering through the air. “Once upon a time we were proud, strong. Our forefathers marched to war with joy in their hearts and sent the cowards of the United States scurrying. Even then they did not stop. They followed the enemy back to their holes, and left a smoking crater in the heart of their so-called democracy.”

  C
hris gritted his teeth. William’s struggles were weakening, his eyes sliding closed. Agony contorted his features, twisting his face into an awful scowl.

  And still Halt spoke. “How your ancestors would turn in their graves to know of your treachery, of your betrayal of the nation they fought to create.”

  Chris forced his eyes closed. The hand on his shoulder gave a gentle squeeze, but Sam stayed silent. Through the strangled screams, Halt’s words dug their way into Chris’s consciousness. The wrinkled, smiling face of his grandmother drifted through his mind. He remembered her telling him how her husband, Chris’s grandfather, had fought and died in the American War.

  In 2020, horrified at the chaos engulfing their nation, a conglomerate of Washington, Oregon and California had unilaterally ceded from the United States. Arizona and New Mexico had quickly joined them, as support poured in from Canada and Mexico.

  War was quick to follow, and a decade of conflict had brought both sides to their knees. Only one last, desperate gamble by the Western Allied States had assured their victory. In one decisive nuclear strike, Washington, DC was left in ruins, the leadership of the United States decimated in a single day. The union had crumbled then, leaving a scattering of independent states who either sued for peace, or were overrun.

  Many argued the values of both nations had been lost the day Washington DC fell. The Western Allied States had been left tainted, their ideals corrupted by that one act of nuclear evil. Watching Halt torture the helpless boy, Chris could not help but agree.

  “Perhaps some of you will prove worthy, might one day live up to the memories of your ancestors.”

  Arms folded, Halt stared down at the boy. The light on William’s collar still flashed red, though his twitching had slowed to little jerks of his arms and legs. He let out a long sigh. “I will give the boy this, he does not die easily.” He reached for his watch.

  “Halt.” Halt froze as a woman’s voice carried across the dirt field.

  The group turned as one, staring as Doctor Fallow strode through the doorway. Chris blinked. So engrossed had he been in William and Halt, he had not heard the buzz of her entrance. Now, as she marched across the dusty ground, Fallow tapped the watch on her wrist. Beside Halt, William’s convulsions came to a sudden stop.

  For a moment, Chris thought the boy had finally succumbed to the collar. Then a low groan came from his twisted body, and Chris let out a sigh of relief.

  Fallow drew to a stop in front of Halt, her eyes flashing with anger. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she growled.

  13

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Angela Fallow growled, her heart pounding as Halt turned to face her.

  “My job.” Halt’s eyes flashed, and Angela took an involuntary step backwards.

  Silently cursing her weakness, Angela drew herself up. “Your job is to oversee this facility, Halt. Mine is to ensure we have the right candidates for the project.” Her eyes flickered to the boy at Halt’s feet, and her stomach swirled.

  He lay unconscious on the ground, an angry red rash spreading out from beneath the collar at his throat. He gave the odd twitch as his muscles spasmed, but otherwise he was still, the only sign of life the dull rattling of his breath. It looked like she had arrived just in time. One of the doctors had alerted her to Halt’s interference with their e-tablet, but she had been on the other side of the facility.

  Halt took a step towards her, his fists clenched. “Need I remind you, Fallow, you answer to me.”

  This time Angela did not back down. She lifted her head, facing the taller doctor. “Not in this, Halt. The trials are mine to oversee. The framework was designed by all of us; we all agreed to follow it while vetting the candidates.” She twisted her lips. “However distasteful some of us may consider the methods.”

  Taking another step, Halt towered over her. His eyes burned, and for a long moment, he did not speak. She stared him down, unwilling to break, to give in. Halt had gone too far, stepped a mile past the lines of human decency. Whoever their prisoners were, they did not deserve to be treated like this.

  The breath went from Halt in a rush. He waved a hand and turned away. “Very well, Fallow.” He said the words lightly, but she did not miss the warning beneath them. He glanced at the watching doctors. “We shall do things your way. But we cannot wait. I want the next round of trials started tomorrow. The final batch of candidates are needed by the week’s end.”

  Swallowing, Angela glanced at her coworkers. They hovered in a group, a mixture of fear and disdain in their eyes. She knew some would support her, eager to do things by the book. But others she was not so sure about. They were more willing to take risks, to press on without concern for the candidates brought to the facility. Or they were just plain terrified of Halt.

  Angela could not blame them for their fear. She had once regarded the man with respect, but since his elevation to head doctor, he had revealed a darker side. Doctors who crossed him were terminated without cause, safety procedures had been cut, and with the subjects, there were no limits to his cruelty.

  She eyed him now, silently calculating the population of subjects still to be vetted. There were two hundred prisoners in the facility, with roughly half of them already processed. That left a hundred candidates still to vet—of which fifty would hopefully survive to begin the experiment. It would take a mammoth effort to have them ready by the end of the week.

  And that wasn’t even accounting for the final touches she needed to make on the virus.

  “A week’s not enough time,” she said.

  Halt shrugged. “I’m sorry, Fallow, that’s out of my hands. The Director wants results. The population is growing restless. They want answers, protection, and if the government doesn’t provide them…” He trailed off.

  Angela eyes travelled over the prisoners in their orange jumpsuits. She shivered as she caught the boy from San Francisco watching at her. She quickly looked away again, seeing the accusation written across his face, hearing again the screams of his mother as they took her.

  Biting her lip, Angela faced Halt. “We’ll have to skip the resting period. It may result in a sub-optimal outcome.”

  Halt waved a hand. He was already moving towards the doorway, leaving his victim lying facedown in the dust. “You will find a solution, Fallow.” Their eyes met. “I know you will.”

  Angela’s breath caught in her throat, but she held his gaze until he turned away. She shuddered as he disappeared through the iron doors, the fight falling from her like water. A muffled groan slipped from her lips, but she bit it back and turned towards the gathered doctors.

  They stared back at her, awaiting instruction.

  Angela straightened. “Okay, you heard Halt. We need to get these candidates classified. You know the drill.” She clapped her hands and smiled as the other doctors broke from their silent reverie.

  One by one, they moved away, each taking one of the orange-garbed candidates with them. Doctor Radly took the boy, Christopher, by the arm, but the boy’s eyes were fixed in her direction. Looking away, Angela studied a cloud overhead. Her mind drifted, remembering again the way Margaret Sanders had fought. The woman had downed a highly-trained Marine—had almost killed him, in fact.

  A mother’s love.

  Idly, she remembered her own mother, the way she had fussed over their little family. Despite the wide expanse of the property on which they’d lived, they had always struggled, making do with what rations the landowner left for them. But her mother had suffered their poverty with good grace, stewing rabbit bones and baking hard bread in the coal oven.

  She imagined that Margaret Sanders possessed a similar resolve, a determination to do whatever it took to protect her family.

  So why, then, had she been so foolish? Her treason had doomed herself and her son. Only by the grace of the government had Chris not been tossed into an interrogation cell alongside her. She shuddered, thinking of those dark places, imagining the woman’s pretty f
ace bruised and beaten.

  Out on the field, Chris was running as he had been instructed, while Doctor Radly studied readings on his tablet. The collars transmitted a constant stream of data: heartbeat, blood pressure, oxygen levels, and a range of other readings. That information would be used to rank them later.

  Watching the candidates, Angela turned her thoughts to what lay ahead. She shuddered as a darkness settled on her soul. Again, she reminded herself what was at stake, of the necessity of these trials. Again, she could not quite convince herself.

  14

  Chris drew in a long breath as he studied the wall before him, and tried to quell the trembling in his knees. The sound of the other candidates training echoed from all around him, but where he stood, Chris was alone. The stone tower in the center of the field stretched some forty feet above him, its surface smooth but for a series of climbing holds leading to the top.

  “What are you waiting for?” The doctor assigned to Chris interrupted his thoughts. “Get on with it. Climb.”

  Swallowing, Chris flicked the man a glance. The collar seemed to tighten around his throat as he glimpsed the watch on his captors wrist, and shuddering Chris returned his gaze to the wall. There was little Chris had encountered in his short life that scared him, little except the unique terror that gripped him at the thought of falling from such a height.

  The wall had no ropes or harness, just the ugly grey holds jutting from the smooth stone. One mistake, and he would tumble back to the hard ground. If he was lucky, the fall might only wind him, but from the full forty feet…