The Genome Project

by Aaron Hodges

  Silently, Liz stood. The Chead’s back was turned to her, its attention focused on tearing Chris limb from limb. She flinched as another blow thudded into Chris’s head. This time he made no effort to avoid it. A low gurgle came from his throat as the Chead lifted him by the arm, dragging him back to his feet.

  Liz moved quickly, knowing she only had seconds to act. The soft floor made no noise beneath her bare feet. Without pausing to think, she hurled herself at the creature’s back. This time she aimed high, sweeping her forearm over its shoulder. Before it could react, she pulled her arm tight against its throat and leaned back. Her feet caught the ground and she pulled harder, dragging it backwards off-balance.

  The Chead gave a strangled cry. Releasing Chris, it turned its attention on her. Knowing she could not match its strength or weight, Liz allowed herself to fall backwards, dragging the Chead down with her. It landed on her chest, driving the breath from her lungs, but still she held on, forearm tight across its collared throat.

  Sensing its plight, the Chead thrashed against her. Its legs kicked out, catching Liz in the shins. Pain lanced from her leg as something went crack, but no force on earth would make her let go now.

  Not even death.

  Long seconds passed, and the creature’s struggles weakened. Its legs no longer beat against the floor, and its relentless strength no longer pressed so hard against her.

  Movement came from beyond the Chead. Chris staggered to his feet, his face already turning purple from bruises, one eye so swollen she could barely see it. Even so, he stumbled forward and fell to his knees beside her. Raising his fist, he drove it into the Chead’s face.

  Liz felt the power of Chris’s blow through the Chead. Its body went limp in her arms, but still she did not relent.

  Only when she was satisfied it was no longer moving did Liz loosen her grip. With Chris’s help, they heaved the dead weight from her chest.

  Then she was embracing Chris, pulling him to her, clinging desperately at his back. An awful sob built in her chest and escaped in a rush. Chris’s arms tightened around her, and then he was sobbing too, his hot wet tears falling on her shoulder.

  They clung to each other in silence, and let the horror wash over them.

  26

  Chris looked up as a click came from the doorway. Halt stood there, a triumphant grin stretching across his thin lips. His eyes feasted on the two of them, shining with a wild exaltation.

  “It worked,” he said, his voice raw. He stepped into the room, two guards following him before the door swung shut. “The genomes are expressing—a few at least. Muscle density factor, reaction time, agility, it’s all there…”

  As the man rambled, Chris struggled to pull his mind back to the present. He wrapped his arm around Liz, pulling her tight against him. She shivered and they shared a glance.

  Then she turned, facing Halt. “What have you done to us?” she croaked.

  Halt drew to a stop. He blinked, looking almost surprised, as though he had forgotten they could speak. His smile faded as he crossed his arms. “We have enhanced you, my dear. Made you better…made you useful.” He almost spat the last word.

  Chris met the man’s iron gaze. “Why?” He gestured to the Chead. “Why would you do this? Send us in here to die?”

  Halt stepped towards the unconscious Chead. “To see if you would live,” he answered, looking back over his shoulder. “To see if we had succeeded in creating a weapon that could match the Chead.”

  Rage constricted Chris’s chest at the doctor’s words. He stared up at the man, struggling to breathe. Pain shot from his knuckles—where the Chead had held him—as he clenched his fists. Glancing at his hand, he saw it had already swollen to twice its usual size.

  He shuddered.

  It would have killed me.

  “You changed us.” Liz was speaking again, her voice barely audible. “Did something to us…while we slept. How…why?” Her voice cracked. She was shaking in his arms, though whether from rage or some other emotion, Chris could not tell.

  Chuckling, Halt walked towards them. “It was a simple matter, in the end. A little retrovirus, some genetic mapping of various species—chimpanzees, wolves, felines, eagles, and so on. Isolating the desirable genes took time, as did altering their repetition sequences to be accepted by human cells.” He shrugged. “But, well, the results were worth the effort. And the best is yet to come.” An awful grin spread across his face.

  With Halt’s words, Chris mind finally caught up with events. Revulsion struck him as he realized the truth—that the Chead had not been weaker than those on the television. It was he and Liz who had changed. They were stronger.

  And it was Fallow and Halt who had changed them.

  A scream built in Chris’s chest as he looked at the doctor. An awful sense of violation wrapped around his throat. He clenched his fist again, felt the pain, its sharpness anchoring him to reality. He felt defiled, like something had been taken from him, stolen. The pain built in his hand, but it was nothing to the desecration of his body. He drew back his lips in a snarl.

  Halt watched them, his expression unchanged, but his hand drifted towards his watch. Tension hung in the air as Chris’s rage gathered strength.

  Then a groan came from across the room. Halt’s eyes flickered towards the Chead. Chris followed his gaze and saw the creature had rolled onto its side. It moaned again, then started to cough. Its eyes fluttered but did not open.

  “It’s still alive.” Halt sounded surprised. He turned back to Chris. “Kill it.”

  “What?” Chris blinked, staring at the doctor in disbelief.

  “Kill it,” Halt repeated. “That monstrosity is not worthy of this earth. Kill it, Christopher. Prove you are its superior.”

  “No.” Chris was surprised by his own resolve. Releasing Liz, he faced Halt, determined to defy him. “I won’t.”

  Halt shook his head and held up his arm. The watch flashed on his wrist. “Do not waste my time, Christopher. Kill the Chead, and we can move on from this unpleasant business.”

  A peal of laughter came from beside Chris, then Liz spoke. “No, Halt. We won’t. We’re not your creatures, your slaves to do with as you please. Whatever you’ve done to us, we’re still human.”

  Halt did not move. His eyes flickered for a second to Liz, then back to Chris. “I will give you one last chance, Christopher. Kill the Chead. Now!”

  “You’re the monstrosity, Halt,” Chris replied.

  “Very well.” Halt looked at Liz again. “If that is your decision…”

  He pressed his finger to the watch.

  Chris closed his eyes and braced himself for the pain. Sucking in a breath, he waited for the familiar fire to encircle his throat, to sap the strength from his legs, to lock his muscles in knots of agony.

  It never came.

  A high-pitched scream erupted from his right. Chris spun, his eyes snapping open to see Liz crumpling to the ground. The color fled her face as she clutched desperately at her throat. Her feet drummed against the soft floor and a strangled scream escaped her.

  Then she fell silent, her last gasps of air stolen away.

  Chris threw himself forward, desperate to reach her, but strong arms grasped him around the waist and hauled him back. He lashed out with his elbow, catching the guard in the face, and the hands released him. He glimpsed the man falling backwards, the other stepping towards him, but he was already at Liz’s side, reaching out, grabbing her by the wrist…

  A jolt of electricity flashed between them, and Chris was hurled across the room.

  Coming to rest a few feet away, Chris shook his head and struggled to sit up. Liz still writhed against the soft floor, her back arching, her mouth wide and gasping. Her fingers clawed at her throat, tearing at the collar’s metal chain. But there was no dislodging the steel links.

  Halt stepped between them, a grim smile on his serpent lips. “Seventy-five milliamps,” he said, shaking his head. “Enough to cause severe muscle contrac
tions, respiratory failure, death.”

  Behind him, Liz was as pale as a ghost, her throws of agony already growing weaker. Her mouth opened, gasping like a fish out of water. Yet somehow, her crystal eyes found his. Shining with tears, they pierced him, conveying her silent command.

  Don’t give in!

  A sob rattled up from Chris’s chest as he closed his eyes, unable to watch any longer. Bowing his head, he cradled his shattered fist. Despair rose within him, overwhelming.

  “Please!” His cry echoed from the one-way mirror.

  A sudden stillness came over the room. Lying on the ground, Chris did not move, unable to look, to witness the consequence of his defiance. So long as he did not look, he could deny the truth.

  Liz couldn’t be gone, couldn’t be dead.

  But in his heart, Chris knew he had to face the truth. Blinking back tears, he sucked in a breath and lifted his head.

  Liz lay where she had fallen, her limbs splayed out at random angles, the tangles of her hair caught on her face. The collar shone from her neck, the red light finally gone out.

  Staring at her broken body, a pit opened in Chris, a gulf of despair that threatened to swallow him whole. A desperate sob tore from his throat, a cry of anguish, a plea for life. Lifting himself, he crawled towards her. He could feel his strength failing, the last drops of energy leaving him, but with a final lunge he reached out and grasped her wrist.

  At his touch, Liz’s chest moved. A soft cough came from the fallen girl as her eyelids fluttered.

  “What?” Halt snarled.

  The door clicked again, and Doctor Fallow stepped into the room.

  27

  “Enough, Halt,” Angela said, so angry she was almost tripping over the words.

  Halt turned to stare at her, eyes wide, his surprise already turning to rage. She knew she’d crossed a line by defying him now. This time, there were no other doctors to back her up—the others were still tending to the survivors of the PERV-B strain.

  “Excuse me?” Halt sounded almost bemused.

  “I said, that’s enough,” Angela repeated, mustering her courage.

  A few moments ago, she had been driven to act. Watching Halt’s cruelty, his determination to bend the candidates to his will at any cost, had pushed her over the edge. Whatever good she’d hoped might come from her work, it was not worth this. Halt’s actions were brutal and pointless and wasteful, a display that did nothing more than serve the man’s ego.

  And Angela could not bear to watch the girl die. She could not shake that feeling of kinship, could not help but see her own youthful self in the girl’s eyes.

  So she had acted. She had superseded Halt’s controller from within the observation room, disabling the collars of the two subjects. As supervisor of the project, her watch had precedence over every other controller in the building—even Halt’s.

  This isn’t right. The words whispered in her mind as she looked at the boy and girl. They’re just kids.

  Biting her lip, she straightened, preparing herself for Halt’s rage. “There’s no justifying this, Halt. They passed the test. The project is a success. But this…” She waved a hand to indicate the girl. “This display is pointless. I won’t allow it.”

  Halt shifted on his feet. A strange calm seemed to have come over him. “You won’t allow it?”

  Angela found herself retreating a step, though the doctor had not moved. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ve disabled their collars.”

  “You forget yourself, doctor.” Halt still spoke in a soft voice. “These displays of insolence…are becoming problematic.”

  “They are my candidates, Halt.”

  For a moment, he did not reply. His eyes studied her, sweeping over her body, cold and calculating. Angela lifted her chin, facing him down.

  At last, Halt nodded. He waved to the guards. “Get them up. Return them to their cell.”

  As the guards started toward Christopher and Elizabeth, Halt turned back to Fallow. He stood deathly still, poised in the center of the room as the guards shepherded the two teenagers from the testing room. His eyes did not blink, never left Angela’s face. Only when the door clicked shut did he step towards her.

  “Just because their parents were traitors–”

  “How dare you?” Halt interrupted, almost shouting now.

  Fallow found herself retreating from the man’s rage, but in just two steps she found herself pressed up against the mirror, the cold glass at her back, with nowhere left to look but the doctor.

  Halt came at her in a rush, his hand flashing out to catch her by the throat. His fingers clenched tight as she opened her mouth to scream, stealing away her voice. His lips drew back in a scowl as he leaned in.

  With a sudden, violent shove, Halt slammed her head back into the glass. Stars spun across Angela’s vision and her knees went weak. Pain lanced through her skull as Halt pulled her towards him, until their faces were less than an inch apart.

  “If you ever defy me again, I will see you in a cage with your precious candidates,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

  Red exploded across Angela’s vision as he slammed her into the mirror again. Then the fingers released her, and with a muffled sob she slumped to the ground.

  Halt looked down at her, open contempt in his eyes. “The experiment will continue,” he said. “I will see that the final doses are administered to the candidates. Those still unconscious will remain in their comas until our research has been completed.”

  Darkness swept across Angela’s vision, rising up to claim her. She fought to hold it off as Halt crouched beside her.

  “Tell me doctor, you aren’t really so naïve, are you?” he asked, his voice taken on an amused tone. “Did you truly buy the company line?”

  “What?” Fallow croaked, her mind swamped, unable to piece together the meaning behind Halt’s words.

  The man chuckled. “Their parents were never traitors, Fallow,” he said.

  “Then who?” Fallow whispered, her heart pounding in her ears.

  Halt shrugged as he stood. “People who wouldn’t be missed, or those who might have stood in our way at the wrong time.” His grin spread. “Anyone we could find, really.”

  “No…”

  “Yes,” Halt cut her off, “and if you don’t want to be the next on the executioner’s block, I suggest you return to your laboratory. If our new virus succeeds, I might just let you live.”

  28

  Clang.

  Chris slumped to the ground as the cell door slid closed behind them. Liz staggered past him and toppled onto Ashley’s bed. The guards had practically carried her this far. Despite faring slightly better than Chris in the fight, her collar had left its mark. The damage ran deep, each inhalation bringing an awful coughing and gurgling from her chest.

  Unfortunately, Chris wasn’t in much better shape.

  Whatever Halt had said about success, Chris still lacked the relentless strength of the Chead. When it had caught him, no amount of skill, training or mutated muscle had been enough to save him from its grasp.

  Thank God for Liz, he thought.

  She lay sprawled across the bed, her face half-buried in the pillow, her back rising with each labored breath. Every few seconds she would groan, but otherwise she lay still.

  Getting to his hands and knees, Chris crawled across the cell to Sam’s bed and pulled himself up. Under the circumstances, he didn’t think the others would mind if they borrowed them. Both beds were neatly made up, the covers pulled tight, the presence of their two friends wiped clean.

  Minutes slipped by as he lay there, his face throbbing where the Chead had struck him. After a time, the clang of the outer door carried down the corridor. Idly, Chris wondered if someone had come to finish the job the Chead had started. There was no one else inside the prison block now. The other cells were empty, the faces that had once lined the corridor either dead or gone.

  No, whoever it was had come for them.

 
Unable to summon the energy to move, Chris lifted an eyelid and looked out into the corridor. A woman stood outside the bars, her hands fiddling nervously with the hem of her lab coat. For a second he thought it was Fallow, before he realized she was too young, her hair blonde instead of brown. A guard stood beside the woman, looking bored.

  “I’m…I’m to give you a round of antibiotics,” she squeaked.

  On the opposite bed, Liz did not so much as stir. Stifling a groan, Chris rolled onto his side. “Really?” he coughed. “You people are all of a sudden concerned for our wellbeing?”

  The woman gave a nervous nod. “Could you, could you get to the back of the cell, please?”

  Chris blinked. If he hadn’t been in so much pain, he would have laughed. Instead he looked at Liz, then back at the doctor. “Sorry, lady. But I don’t think we’re going anywhere.”

  “But…but you’re meant to…”

  Closing his eyes, Chris lay back on the bed. “Just get it over with. Have the guard ready to press his little button, if it makes you feel better.”

  The woman hesitated another second, and then nodded. A buzzer sounded and the cell door slid open. The little doctor hopped into the cell, a packet of syringes held in one hand, a vial of clear liquid in the other.

  Briefly, Chris contemplated resisting. After everything they’d been through, he distrusted even this harmless-looking woman. Who knew what new horror might wait in the vial? But a hollow feeling sat in his stomach, an awful, helpless weakness that sapped him of the will to fight.

  After all, what was the point in fighting now? It was too late—they’d already lost, had already been damaged beyond repair.

  Chris slumped into his pillow and watched as the woman stopped beside Liz.

  “She’s unconscious,” she said, sounding surprised. “I thought…I thought the experiment was a success.”

  “You’ll have to ask your boss about that.” Chris paused, his thoughts drifting. “Where are our friends? What’s happening to them?”