The Genome Project

by Aaron Hodges

  From the corner of her eyes, Liz caught movement from several of the beds, but the doctor was too preoccupied with Chris to notice. Steadying herself, she took a moment to search the room for Ashley and Sam. But the fluorescent light caught in her eyes, and she found her vision shimmering, the room becoming a blur. By the time it cleared, Fallow was already shepherding them towards the doorway.

  Outside, Liz’s legs finally started to obey, though they remained stiff and sore. Chris was steadily improving too, but he still needed Liz’s shoulder for support. Two guards stood on either side of exit, but neither made any move to follow them. Fallow kept pace several feet behind them though, no doubt ready to use the collars should they place a foot out of line.

  Step by faltering step, they made their way through the facility, obeying Fallow’s direction whenever they came to an intersection. Within a few turns, Chris had recovered enough to walk unaided, though it was a while before he managed more than a slow shuffling. Fortunately, the doctor did not seem to be in any hurry.

  Despite their slow pace, the journey could not last forever, and all too soon they found themselves outside a familiar white door. Liz shivered as she looked on it, memories of her fight with Joshua spiraling through her mind.

  She turned as Fallow spoke from behind them. “Go in.”

  Wordlessly, Liz shook her head. Dread wrapped around her stomach as she reached out and took Chris’s hand. Together they faced the doctor, standing straight now, the strength slowly returning to their limbs.

  “We won’t.” Liz drew herself up and stepped towards Fallow. “I won’t.”

  Fallow retreated. She lifted her arm, the watch on her wrist flashing in warning. “Won’t what?” Fallow asked.

  “I won’t fight her,” Chris coughed. “I’d rather die.”

  Fallow’s shoulders slumped and she gave a little shake of her head. “That’s not…no.” She gestured with a hand. “Just go.”

  Liz and Chris shared a glance, still hesitating. Despite Fallow’s strange reassurance, fear gnawed at Liz’s stomach, a dread she could not shake. The last time she’d entered this room, an innocent boy had lost his life. She had almost lost her own. Her hand drifted to her throat, but there was no pain now, only the cold reminder of the collar nestled beneath her chin.

  How long were we asleep?

  “Don’t make me use the collars.” Fallow lifted her finger to her watch.

  They went.

  As the door clicked shut behind them, Liz found herself standing again in the padded room, blinking in the brilliant light. An awful smell wafted through the air, a sickly sweetness that clung to her nostrils. As her vision cleared and the room came into focus, she realized with a sharp inhalation that they were not alone.

  A boy stood in the center of the room. He wore an orange jumpsuit that matched their own, though she had never seen him before in the cells. His head was bowed, and his breath came in ragged gasps, his shoulders trembling with each violent exhalation. He held his hands clenched at his side, and though his eyes were open, he did not seem to have noticed them. Black hair dangled in front of his face, obscuring the rest of his features.

  Liz edged towards him, her heart beating hard in her chest. Behind her, Chris gasped, and she felt his hand on her shoulder. But she twisted free, her panic growing. Gripped by a desperate need to see, to know for sure, she slid closer.

  Leaning down, she peered into the boy’s eyes.

  Hard grey irises stared back, their surfaces glazed, unseeing.

  But as she watched, they blinked, the life behind them stirring.

  Liz screamed.

  24

  Chris recognized what the boy was the instant they stepped into the room. Though there was no outward difference to his appearance, there was a strangeness to his hunched stance, something about how he stood that gave it away. The stench of him was strong in the room, a cloying sweetness that clung to the air.

  He didn’t need to see the grey eyes to know what the boy was.

  Chead.

  He had tried to stop Liz, but she’d only shaken herself free and crept closer. Clenching his fists, he tested his strength, surprised by how quickly it was returning. His attention was drawn back to Liz as she bent down to peer into the boy’s face.

  Then she was staggering backwards, her scream reverberating around the room. The Chead’s features contorted, the ripple of awakening sweeping across its face, and then Chris was retreating too, fumbling at the door, shouting for help, knowing it would not come.

  Beside him, Liz screamed again and staggered sideways. Chris’s hand flashed out, catching her sleeve and dragging her back to him. She started to thrash, and her panic swept through him, waking him from his stupor. He shoved Liz behind him and faced the Chead.

  He froze as he found the iron-grey eyes watching him. A smile spread across the creature’s face, sending pure terror sizzling through every fiber of Chris’s being. Another shriek came from behind him as Liz pounded on the padded door.

  Taking a breath, Chris stepped towards the Chead, an eerie calm coming over him. He placed himself squarely between Liz and the creature, ignoring the urge to turn and shake her, to pull her back from the edge. Liz’s words were still fresh in his mind, and he heard again the agony in her voice as she’d told him of her parents’ death at the hands of a Chead.

  He couldn’t blame her for panicking.

  Chris stared into the eyes of the Chead, searching for a sign of sanity, for a hint of the human it had once been.

  The Chead raised an eyebrow. “Welcome,” it whispered, the word sounding strange from its mouth, robotic, as though speech did not come easily to it.

  For a second all Chris could do was stand and gape. He blinked, moving his mouth, struggling to find the words. “Wha…what?” he finally managed.

  Grey eyes flickered from Chris to Liz. With deliberate slowness, the Chead turned and began to pace. It walked first towards the mirror, pausing as its reflection rose up before it, a snarl twisting its lips. Then it spun, moving back past Chris and Liz until it reached the far wall. A growl rumbled from its chest as it turned and repeated the maneuver, its jerky movements like those of a caged animal. Metal shone around its neck, and for the first time Chris realized it too was wearing a collar.

  “What. Am. I?” The creature ground out the words. It paused and looked straight at Chris. “You already know that…”

  Chris did not reply. His mind was still reeling, struggling to comprehend one irresolvable revelation: it could speak—not just that, it understood him. No newspaper, no television channel had ever mentioned a Chead speaking, never mind being self-aware. As far as the public were concerned, the things were monsters—uncontrollable, terrible, killing machines.

  They did not think.

  They certainly did not talk.

  “How?” Chris croaked.

  He could sense Liz behind him regaining her composure. The thuds on the door had ceased, her screams dying to soft gasps. On trembling legs, Liz stumbled forward to join him. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched a shiver run through her and reached out an arm. Their hands touched, their fingers entwining. He gave her hand a squeeze and turned back to the Chead.

  It had stopped its pacing and stood again in the center of the room, watching them. Its nostrils flared as it inhaled.

  “You smell…different,” it said, then: “How do I speak?” It spoke Chris’s question aloud.

  Chris nodded his confirmation.

  A smile spread across the Chead’s face. “I learned.” It nodded towards the mirror. “From them…”

  Liz’s hand shook in Chris’s grip, but when he looked at her, Liz’s eyes remained fixed straight ahead, her lips pressed tightly together.

  The Chead’s head bent to the side, as though in curiosity. “You are different,” it said again, its smile spreading, though there was no humor in its eyes. “Like me.”

  Chris’s stomach clenched at its words. “What do you mean? We’re…we�
��re not like you…” he croaked.

  An awful laughter crackled up from the thing’s throat. “They succeeded…these jailers of ours.” The boy’s face twisted horribly, until it seemed some demon now possessed the boy. Speech seemed to come easier to it now. “But I wonder, is it enough?”

  It stepped towards them then, the grin fading.

  As one, Chris and Liz retreated across the padded floor, until their backs were pressed against the door.

  Chris raised his hands in surrender. “Please, wait, you don’t have to do this.”

  The Chead paused, the hard glint in its eyes wavering. It shook its head. “But I do. It is my nature…isn’t it?” It took another step, its eyes flickering to the one-way glass. “Besides, it’s what they want.”

  Snarling, the Chead leapt towards them.

  Without pausing to think, Chris pushed Liz from him and stepped in to meet the creature’s charge. From the corner of his eye he saw Liz stagger sideways. Then the Chead was on him, its fist flashing for his chest. Acting on instinct drilled into him by years of Taekwondo, he threw up an arm, and the blow glanced from his forearm.

  Chris gasped as pain jolted his wrist. Then the weight of the creature crashed into him, flinging him backwards into the wall. The Chead was on Chris before he could recover, catching him by the shoulders. His stomach twisted as the long arms lifted him. Panicked, he kicked out, driving a desperate blow into the boy’s head.

  To his surprise, the Chead reeled back. A savage growl came from its throat as it tossed him aside. Chris bent his head and braced his arms as the ground raced towards him. He struck with a thud and rolled, spinning to come to his feet in one fluid movement. Straightening, he faced the Chead.

  The creature stared back, watching him like a predator stalking its prey. Slowly it lifted an arm and wiped a trickle of blood from its lip.

  Chris’s gaze flickered as he caught sight of Liz. She moved to join him, her eyes flashing. “Don’t do that again,” she growled.

  Nodding, Chris turned his attention back to the Chead. It seemed hesitant now. Chris was glad for its caution. On the television, he’d watched a Chead tear men apart, seen throats ripped out and skulls shattered by a single blow. Tasers did little to slow them, and bullets only seemed to anger them unless they struck something vital.

  Unarmed and trapped in the tiny room, Chris did not like their odds.

  Yet somehow, his blow had rattled it.

  Pushing down his fear, Chris edged away from Liz. Whatever their chances, they had to try. At least they outnumbered the Chead. They needed to make the most of that advantage.

  The Chead snarled as he moved, its head turning to follow him. Chris watched as Liz edged sideways in the opposite direction. The Chead ignored her though, clearly seeing Chris as the greater threat.

  Chris just hoped Liz had the strength to prove it wrong.

  The Chead’s grin returned as Chris came to a stop. A low rumble quivered in its chest. It stepped towards him, legs tensing to spring. Chris raised his fists in reply. Sliding one leg backwards, he twisted sideways, planting himself in a defensive stance. Flashing a grin he did not feel, he gestured the creature forward.

  As Chris hoped, his impudence ignited a flash of anger in the Chead. Adrenaline pounded in his ears as it charged, and he reacted without thought, years of training taking over. One hand swept up to deflect a blow flashing for his face. The force of the attack sent him reeling, but stepping back he managed to keep his balance, already watching for the next attack.

  Another fist came at his face and he ducked. His surprise grew as the attack flew past. He’d seen a Chead shatter bones with a single blow. By all rights, Chris’s arm should have been crushed. Yet somehow he was holding his own.

  The Chead seemed to have realized this too. Snarling, it hurled itself at Chris with renewed fury. A fist flashed beneath his guard and struck him in the stomach. The breath hissed between Chris’s teeth as his lungs emptied. Wheezing, he tried to retreat, but the Chead was too close.

  With a shriek, Liz leapt into the fray. Bent in two and gasping, Chris caught a glimpse of her tangled hair and flashing blue eyes as she drove her foot down into the back of the Chead’s knee.

  Screaming, it collapsed.

  25

  The second Liz had seen the stone-grey eyes of the Chead, the memories came flooding back, and she’d found herself back in her parents’ house, in the home she’d been raised in. Once, it had been a safe place, a sanctuary amidst the harsh world outside.

  Now though, in her memories, a perpetual shadow hung over its wooden hallways, sucking away the light, the life it had once born.

  In her mind, she saw again the rubble-strewn corridor, the broken floorboards and pooling blood. She saw herself turn the corner, saw the body lying in the corridor, strangely whole, while those outside had lain in pieces.

  And her mother, standing over the body, her grey eyes staring.

  With a scream, Liz tore herself from the memory, returning to the present, to the room, and to Chris.

  And to the Chead.

  Still reeling, caught in the clutches of remembered horror, she’d barely heard the conversation between Chris and the Chead. She had only woken when Chris had pushed her from the path of Chead’s charge. Anger had lit in her stomach, waking her from the fear, restoring her to life.

  Now, as she edged sideways around the Chead, she let that anger grow, fed it with every injustice she’d ever suffered. It was her only weapon now, her only strength against the sheer ferocity of the creature standing between them. Opposite her, Chris faced the creature, drawing it away, until its back was turned to her. But before she could strike, the Chead leapt for Chris.

  Fear chilled her stomach as blows crashed against flesh. To her surprise, Chris did not go down. Edging closer, she saw him deflect another blow, his arms moving faster than thought, the crack of fists connecting with bone ringing from the walls.

  Liz stared, her mouth wide with disbelief. What she was watching was not possible. Chris was keeping pace with the violent speed of the Chead, matching it blow for blow, punch for punch. Her eyes could barely keep up with their frenzied movements. The air itself seemed to shake with the strength of each clash, and still Chris stood, holding his own.

  What have they done to us?

  Her skin tingled as the question whispered in her mind. But there was no time to contemplate the answers, no time to consider the implications. Instead, she gathered herself and slid closer, searching for an opening.

  Then, an attack slipped beneath Chris’s guard. It slammed into his stomach, driving him to his knees. The color fled his face as the Chead stepped in, raising a fist to deliver the final blow.

  Seeing her chance, Liz sprang forward and drove her heel into the back of the Chead’s knee. Idly, she hoped whatever changes had been wrought on the Chead had not removed the cluster of nerve endings located behind the kneecap.

  The boy’s bloodcurdling shriek answered her question. The Chead’s leg crumbled beneath the force of the blow, sending it crashing to the ground. Clenching her teeth, Liz stepped towards it as Chris rolled away.

  She swung a kick at its head, but the Chead was already recovering. Quick as a cobra it twisted, a hand flashing out to catch her by the leg. Before she could free herself, it stood, grey eyes glittering. A growl came from its throat as it lifted her by the leg and held her upside-down. Gasping, she fought to break its hold, but its fingers were like iron. Knowing it was useless, Liz lashed out with a fist, catching it in the cheek.

  Shock reverberated up her arm as the blow connected. The fingers around her leg loosened, and suddenly she was falling. She landed awkwardly and looked up to see the Chead stumbling backwards, one hand raised to its face. It straightened with a roar, its gaze sweeping down to find her on the floor.

  Liz’s courage crumbled as she looked into its awful eyes. All semblance of humanity had fled the creature now, melting in the red-hot flames of its rage. Hardly daring to bre
athe, she backed towards Chris, any thoughts of attacking falling away.

  Snarling, it stepped after her.

  “Now you’ve done it,” Chris panted, his hand reaching for hers.

  She clenched her hand around his, drawing strength from his presence, then released him. Together they watched the Chead approach.

  With a roar, it leapt.

  Chris sprang forward to meet it, screaming his defiance. He deflected the first swing of the creature’s fist, but this time the force of the blow sent him reeling, and Liz had to step aside to avoid him. Then the Chead was on her, fists flying, lips drawn back in a snarl, its half-mad screams echoing from the mirrored glass.

  A fist caught Liz in the cheek, staggering her, then the Chead’s shoulder crashed into her chest. The breath rushed from her lungs as she was thrown backwards into the wall. Her head whipped back, striking the padding, and despite the soft surface, her vision spun. Groaning, she slid down the wall, struggling to catch her breath.

  Across the room, Chris fought on, but he was no longer a match for the Chead’s strength. And it was faster now, its speed and ferocity far beyond human capabilities. With contempt, it knocked aside his blows. A fist crashed into his face, sending him stumbling backwards, but he refused to yield. Straightening, he launched himself back into the fray.

  Desperately, Liz struggled back to her feet.

  A shout drew her attention back to the fight. The Chead had caught Chris’s fist in one hand. Chris screamed again, though this time neither of them moved. An awful crack came from Chris’s fist as he sank to his knees. The color fled his face and he gave an awful groan. One-handed, he struggled to get his feet back under him—until the Chead’s other hand smashed into the side of his head. Chris went limp at the blow, his breathing ragged, one hand still caught in the creature’s grip.