by Aaron Hodges
“Piss off,” Liz snapped. Still crouched on the ground, she retreated to the back of the cage.
Outside, the guards looked at each other and then burst into laughter.
“Feisty, isn’t she?” The first guard grinned, leaning against the wire. “What’s your name again, pretty girl? Elizabeth, wasn’t it?”
Liz pursed her lips and looked away.
“Leave her alone,” Chris growled from his cage, but the men ignored him.
“Let’s take a closer look, shall we, boys?” the man who appeared to be the ringleader suggested.
The others paused, sharing a glance. “Don’t think that’s a good idea, Franco. The doctor seemed pretty keen on keeping them where they are.”
Franco only laughed. “Who’s going to know? Look at her, she’s tiny! And her hands are cuffed. You think we can’t take her?”
The second guard fell silent, still shaking his head, but the third shrugged. “Can’t hurt. You heard the doctor. They’re going to put her down when he gets back anyway. May as well grab a few feathers to show the boys at the pub.”
That was enough for Franco. Removing a set of keys from his belt, he turned back to Liz’s cage. Heart thudding in his chest, Chris scrambled to get his legs beneath him, and finally managed to haul himself up. Stumbling forward, he threw himself against the wire to catch the men’s attention. His wings stretched out, slamming against the steel.
The men paused and turned to stare at him.
“Leave her alone,” Chris growled. “If you touch her, I swear I’ll kill you all.”
The men glanced at one another, momentarily taken aback by Chris’s ferocity. Then the man called Franco grinned, glancing down the row of cages. “What do you know, they’ve all got wings, boys.” Turning his back on Chris, he stepped up to the door of Liz’s cage. “This one’s still the prettiest though.”
Chris swore and threw himself against the wire again, but the men ignored him again. Inside her cage, Liz crouched on the ground, still struggling to find her feet. Gritting his teeth, Chris strained against his cuffs, fighting the agony that lanced down his arm. The cold steel sliced into his skin but did not give.
He watched on, helpless, as Franco unlocked Liz’s cage. The other two stood back as the door swung open, their rifles trained on Liz. Rage flashed in her eyes as she prepared to launch herself at the men, guns or no.
Franco paused in the doorway, studying her closely. Smiling, he raised his hand and pointed at Chris. “I wouldn’t, my dear. Randell, Oliver, shoot the boy if she tries anything.”
Liz’s shoulders slumped. Franco laughed again and stepped into the cage, despite the string of curses Chris hurled in his direction. Grabbing a fistful of Liz’s hair, he dragged her to her feet. Her screams echoed through the room as he hauled her from the cage. Her wings flapped, slamming into the wire mesh, but with her hands pinned behind her back, she had no means to defend herself.
Chris stared, helpless, as the guard shoved Liz into the middle of the room. She stumbled forward, a gasp tearing from her throat as he released her. Eyes wide, she spun, her wings fanning out to fill the room. Her skin had paled, the dark bruise on her forehead standing out in stark relief. Rage shone from her eyes as she faced the ring of men.
A low growl rattled from her throat as one of the men grabbed at her feathers. She spun at him as he tore a fistful loose. He held them up in triumph. “They’re real, boys!” He laughed as he looked at Liz. “You don’t mind if I take a souvenir? Don’t think you’ll be needing them, where the doctor is taking you.”
Liz stalked towards him, but Franco stepped in behind her. Before Liz could turn, he slammed the butt of his rifle into the back of her head. She staggered at the blow, losing her balance and crashing to the floor in a tangle of feathers. Without her arms, she could do nothing to break her fall. Before she could recover, Franco drove his boot into the small of her back, pinning her to the concrete.
Grinning, he looked at the others. “What should we do with the birdie now?”
19
Sam stood in the wings of the stage and looked out over the crowd that had gathered beyond the podium. They stood in silence, staring up at the figures on the stage, waiting for the announcement. The national press stood at the front, their cameras pointed up at them, red lights flashing as they prepared to broadcast to the country.
Swallowing, Sam glanced at Paul and Francesca. They stood to either side of him, their faces tight with fear, their eyes lingering on the man standing beside Halt. A dozen black-suited bodyguards ringed the two men, their hard eyes scanning the crowd. They were clearly taking no chances.
Not with the life of the President of the Western Allied States.
Whispers spread through the crowd as the President squared his shoulders and stepped into view. Striding across to the podium, he looked out over the gathered faces. He moved with a regal grace, carrying about him the air of a man used to power. Not surprising, after the long decades he had served as President.
Placing one hand on the smooth mahogany podium, he waved to the crowd. The whispers dimmed to sudden silence, as everyone present looked up in expectation. Even the sharp clicking of cameras died away. It had been a long time since the President had spoken in such a public setting. Usually he broadcast announcements from his office, or in private press conferences. Now, the whole nation waited with bated breath to hear what he had to say.
“My fellow citizens of the Western Allied States,” he began, his smooth voice carrying over the crowd. “Thank you for joining me here today. I know times have been hard. I appreciate your courage today, to stand with me here in defiance of those who seek to terrorize us.”
He fell silent, his eyes sweeping the crowd, as though he were speaking to each and every soul present. “But I have come here today to tell you the dark days are numbered, that a solution is at hand.”
Whispers spread as heads turned to one another in question. The President opened his hands, and the silence resumed. Halt stepped from the shadows and approached the podium.
“My people have been working on a solution to combat the menace of the Chead,” the President continued. “Though our enemies abroad would see us fall to the chaos they have seeded, their attacks will only make us stronger. The terror they seek to spread will only unite us in our efforts to defeat them. And now we have an answer to their monstrosities, a beacon of hope to light our way.”
He paused, letting his words sink in, the anticipation to build. Then he continued: “Our scientists have taken inspiration from the evil of the Chead. They have studied their physiology, identified their weaknesses, and developed an answer.”
Sam let out a long breath. That was their cue. He glanced at the others, hesitating on the brink. It was not too late to turn back, to flee the stage and deny Halt and the President their victory. But even as he tensed, an image of Ashley flashed into his mind, of her strapped to the bed, and Halt standing over her.
The fight fled him, and he hesitated no longer.
The crowd stilled as Sam stepped into the light. He could sense Paul and Francesca at his shoulders, but he kept his eyes fixed on Halt, on the triumphant grin on the doctor’s face. His heart sank, but he strode to the front of the stage and looked out over the mass of humanity gathered for their presentation.
They were on Fisherman’s Wharf, on a makeshift stage set up at Pier 39. The crowd stretched out along the waterfront in either direction, as far as the eye could see. A stillness came over them as they looked up at the three teenagers standing alongside the President, their foreheads creasing in confusion.
The President raised a hand. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the future.”
At the President’s words, Sam closed his eyes.
Forgive me.
With a sharp whoosh, his wings snapped open, the great expanse of his copper feathers spreading to fill the stage. Behind him, he heard the others following suit. Opening his eyes, he looked out again at the crowd.
> A thousand faces stared up at him. Mouths hung open and eyes bulged at the impossibility of what they were witnessing. Not a soul moved. Not a voice spoke. The silence was absolute, stretching over the crowded streets like a blanket.
Then the whispers began, quietly at first, but growing to a rush, as though a dam had broken. As one, the reporters began to shout questions. Cameras flashed and the crowd jostled forward, desperate for a closer look.
Sam lowered his head, struggling to hold back tears. The collar pressed tighter around his throat, and shivering, he silently retracted his wings. Glancing at Halt, he saw the exaltation on the doctor’s face and closed his eyes again, unable to face the shame welling up within him.
What have I done?
20
“Liz!” Chris cried.
His chest constricted as he heard the others screaming from the neighboring cages. He threw himself at the wire mesh, felt the cold steel cutting into his face, and stumbled sideways. His wings beat the air, keeping him upright, tearing at his steel confines, desperate to escape. But nothing he did made a difference. Heart racing in his chest, he watched the nightmare unfolding outside his cage.
Liz lay pinned beneath the guard’s boot, her hands still cuffed behind her back, her wings beating weakly against the cold concrete. She kicked out with her feet, but the other guards stood out of range and only laughed. Then one drew back his boot and kicked her in the side. The blow drove the breath from Liz’s lungs, folding her in two.
In his cage, Chris cursed the men, threatening bloody murder, but intent on their victim, they ignored him. Liz shrieked as Franco crouched over her and grabbed a handful of her hair. Jerking back her head, he forced her to look at him.
“You be good now, Elizabeth.” He sat back on his haunches and nodded at the cages. “Or an accident’s going to happen to one of your buddies there.”
Liz only growled and strained against her cuffs. Her wings swung out, catching Franco in the ribs and toppling him to the floor. He cursed as he landed on his backside. Another of the guards stepped forward and stamped on Liz’s wing. She arched her back as he ground her feathers into the concrete, a silent scream tearing from her throat.
Regaining his feet, Franco dusted himself off and scowled down at Liz. He kicked Liz again, and laughed as she strained to draw breath.
“Please,” Liz managed to croak. “Just leave us alone!”
The grin on Franco’s face spread as he crouched beside her again, but Chris felt a touch of premonition at Liz’s words. He frowned, leaning against the wire, peering out at the tangle of bodies. Liz lay stiff against the floor, her wings retracted protectively against her back now. She did not move as Franco reached out and stroked the black feathers, speaking softly. “Just be a good girl, and I’ll put you back in one piece.”
The hackles stood on Chris’s neck as the guard brushed the hair from Liz’s face. A scream built in his throat, a desperate cry of anger, of untold rage. He strained against the cuffs, the steel cutting into his wrists. Pain streaked from his bullet wound, but he didn’t care, hardly noticed.
Liz had gone deathly still. Smiling, Franco bent down, reaching for her…
As his hands brushed her skin, a bloodcurdling scream filled the room, so loud Chris thought his ears might burst. Unable to cover them, he sank to his knees, and watched through watering eyes as the guards reeled back.
The scream died as quickly as it had begun. The guards blinked. Franco cursed and stepped towards Liz, but before he could reach her, a sound like nails on a chalkboard rent the air. It was followed by the soft tinkle of steel chains striking concrete.
A feral growl rose from where Liz lay huddled on the ground. A shudder went through her feathers, her wings snapping open. Then Liz was crouched on all fours, her hands suddenly free, her black hair pasted across her face. Her eyes flashed in the glow of the overhead lights, falling on the three guards.
Chris staggered back from the wire of his cage. The breath caught in his throat and he struggled to breathe, to comprehend what he was seeing. His stomach twisted and he shook his head, clenching his eyes closed.
When he opened them again, nothing had changed.
Liz still crouched on the ground, her lips drawn back in a snarl, her wings tensed behind her. And her eyes…her eyes had changed. Gone was the crystal blue he knew so well.
In their place were the cold grey of the Chead.
The guards stumbled backwards, their mouths falling open as they fumbled for their weapons. Before they could so much as scream, Liz sprang.
The first guard collapsed as she collided with his chest, bearing him to the ground. He managed half a shriek before Liz tore out his throat. Blood sprayed the air, cutting off his screams, as a low gurgling started in his chest. He gasped, eyes wide as blood filled his lungs. Laughing, Liz turned on her next victim.
The second guard almost managed to raise his rifle before Liz was on him. She tore the weapon from his terrified hands and hurled it aside, then caught him by the neck. His mouth opened, but he couldn’t even scream as she slammed him into the wall. A sickening crunch came from his skull, and his eyes rolled up into the back of his head.
Tossing the man aside, Liz stepped over the lifeless body, her grey eyes tracking Franco as he stumbled back from her. He screamed, fumbling for his rifle, but she was too fast. He retreated as she stripped it from his hands, until his back pressed up against Chris’s cage.
“No, please, no, don’t!” He shrieked the last word as Liz charged.
He raised his arms to protect himself, but Liz caught him by both wrists. With a sickening wrench, she tore his arms apart.
Chris blanched and forced himself to look away. But he could not block out the sounds of rending flesh and breaking bones. His stomach churned as Franco screamed and began to beg. Another thud came, then another scream. Wild laughter filled the room.
When the guard finally fell silent, Chris could hardly bring himself to look.
Liz stood outside his cage, her clothes covered with blood, even the feathers of her outstretched wings stained by it. Her shoulders rose and fell in a rhythmic fashion, her grey eyes watching him. Her lips drew back in a snarl as he moved, and slowly she reached out a hand to the wire. Gripping it between her fingers, she began to squeeze.
Chris swallowed as the steel bent before her strength. He retreated until his back was pressed against the rear of the cage. Fear wrapped its way around his stomach as he stared at Liz, searching for the girl he loved, begging for this all to be a nightmare.
But there was no sign of blue in Liz’s eyes, and snarling, she threw herself at the wire. The steel rattled and bent beneath the impact but did not give. Chris strained against his handcuffs, as the others screamed in their cages. Blood pounded in his ears, muffling their words, but it didn’t matter. The handcuffs refused to give.
He looked up at Liz as she attacked the wire again. He recognized the madness in her eyes. It was more than just the grey of the Chead. In the facility, Chris had proven he could match the Chead’s strength. But he could still recall the rage that had overcome Hecate at the end of their fight. With that fury had come a renewed strength, a fresh power that had left Chris begging for mercy.
He saw that rage in Liz’s eyes now. She would tear him limb from limb.
Unless he could reach her.
“Liz,” he shouted. Summoning his courage, he stepped up to the wire. “Liz, please, it’s me, Chris. Please, come back to me.”
He flinched as Liz roared and threw herself at the wall of the cage again. His heart pounded hard against his ribs as the poles supporting the corners bent beneath the impact.
“Liz, stop!” Chris screamed as she attacked again.
His words fell on deaf ears, and he retreated to the corner, watching as the poles continued to bend inwards. The others stood in the nearby cages, watching now in terrified silence, desperate not to draw Liz’s attention.
Despair rising in his chest, Chris slumped to the
floor. He couldn’t stand to lose Liz, not like this, not now. She alone had drawn him back from the brink, from the gulf of despair into which he had fallen. If he lost Liz too, he didn’t know how he would go on.
Not that that would matter, if she got his hands on him.
He looked into her eyes, watching her throw herself mindlessly against the wire, still not quite believing what he was seeing.
How could this happen?
Finally, he had to look away, to close his eyes and wait for the end to come. To his surprise, a sudden silence fell over the room. Looking up, he found Liz still standing outside his cage. She blinked, and her chest swelled as she sucked in a great, shuddering breath.
For a long while, she stood still, fists clenched at her sides. Chris stared into her eyes, searching for a trace of the crystal blue, hardly daring to breathe. Time stretched out, long seconds uncounted.
Then Liz shook her head and retreated a step. Her head twisted, her gaze sweeping the room, seeming to take in the devastation for the first time. A shiver went through her as she lifted her head, her nostrils flaring.
A low growl came from her throat as she turned towards the door. Her shoulders rose as she drew in another breath. She shook her head, snarling at the bodies lying scattered around her.
“Liz,” Chris whispered, desperate to reach her.
She whirled at his voice, eyes wide, flashing with sudden fear.
Then she spun back to the door, and fled.
21
The Chead roared as a bullet grazed her shoulder. Then she was amongst the humans and their puny weapons, tearing and rending. They fell back before her fury. Their screams sent a thrill through her veins, but they quickly fell silent. She stood amidst their bodies, the scent of blood strong in her nostrils, and searched for fresh victims.
Alone.
Growling, the Chead moved on. Turning a corner, she found the woman she’d missed, staggering away down the corridor. Rage filled her as she leapt, bearing the woman to the floor. Her screams fell silent as the Chead tore out her throat.
