The Pursuit of Truth

by Aaron Hodges

  The Madwomen.

  Sam shook his head, not sure whether to laugh or cry. Jonathan had told the truth—that much was certain. The women had gathered in the center of the square, their faces lined with age, their bodies withered by the cruel passage of time. They held no placards or megaphones, and they were silent as they made their way around the base of the obelisk. Many wore the faded army uniforms and shining medals of their fallen husbands.

  A tremor went through Sam as he watched their slow progression. Though they made no sound, their message was clear to all who watched. And people were watching. They stood around the edges of the park, hundreds of wide-eyed onlookers, drawn here by the whispers spreading through the city. They had come to see the spectacle, to watch the women who dared stand in defiance of the government.

  Despite his despair, Sam couldn’t help but admire the women’s courage. They might not have the power or influence to bring down the President or the Director, but here they were anyway. Here they stood, in open defiance of the powers that ruled them, with only the honor of their fallen loved ones to protect them.

  Watching them, Sam could almost bring himself to hope things might change, that they might have a chance after all.

  Almost.

  He looked up as a shout carried across the square. Beyond the Madwomen, the crowd was drawing back, retreating before the thud of marching boots. A cold fist wrapped around Sam’s chest as he glanced at the others. Before anyone could move, Jasmine leapt forward and caught Jonathan by the front of his shirt.

  “You betrayed us!” she hissed.

  “No!” Jonathan gasped as her fingers reached for his throat. “This wasn’t me!”

  Jasmine looked at them, her eyes alight with fury, and even Sam was loath to interfere. He glanced at the oncoming soldiers and then back the way they’d come. But the trees were empty, and he shook his head at Jasmine.

  “They’re not here for us,” he said softly, “or we’d already be surrounded.”

  For a moment, he thought Jasmine would ignore him. Jonathan was standing on his toes to keep her grip around his collar from strangling him.

  “Jasmine,” Chris said, “put him down, before someone notices.”

  Chris’s warning seemed to cut through Jasmine’s rage, and snorting, she released the translator without any further argument. Jonathan coughed and bent in two, and Sam moved across and patted him on the back.

  “Sorry, she’s a bit jumpy,” he offered.

  Jonathan straightened. “They’re probably here for the Madwomen.” He glanced at them as he spoke. “After the attack on the courthouse, public gatherings have been banned.”

  “What will they do?” Ashley asked.

  Hearing the tremor in her voice, Sam reached out and took her hand. His heart twisted as she glanced at him and he saw the fear in her eyes. The thudding of boots echoed loudly in the square now, seeming to come from all around. Beneath the obelisk, the Madwomen had drawn to a stop and stood watching the approaching soldiers. They made no move to flee as men in tidy green uniforms pushed through the onlookers and drew to a halt in front of them.

  A woman in a suit strode forward through the ranks of soldiers. She moved with purpose, possessed of an unwavering confidence. The men parted before her like the red sea before Moses, eager to avoid the hard look in her eyes. Her thin lips twisted into a frown as she stopped at the head of the soldiers and studied the old women around the obelisk. The look on her face suggested she thought it beneath her just to stand in their presence.

  Which probably wasn’t far from the truth. There was no mistaking the Director of Domestic Affairs, and Sam nervously pulled his hood tighter around his face. This was the woman who had called them terrorists—the person tasked with bringing them to justice.

  The Director placed her hands on her hips and slowly shook her head.

  “What would your husbands think?” she spoke in a soft voice, but Sam heard her easily from across the square. “To see the lot of you standing here, undermining the nation they gave their lives to defend? And while we are in the middle of a crisis?” She shook her head again.

  A soft whisper went through the Madwomen, but for a long moment, it looked like they would not respond. Then a woman stepped from the group. She wore a faded green uniform, and on her chest a silver cross gleamed. She stood with her shoulders held high and stared down the Director. From beside him, Sam heard someone gasp, but the old woman was already speaking.

  “Who are you to talk of our husbands’ sacrifices?” she asked, her voice firm. “Who are you to ask what they would think of us?”

  For a second, the Director’s mask slipped, and Sam saw the fury in her eyes. “I am the Director of Domestic Affairs, second only to—”

  “You are a liar and a murderer,” the woman said, interrupting the Director’s words. She spread her arms to indicate the women behind her. “We are the Western Allied States. We are what our husbands fought for, what they gave their lives for.”

  The Director was shaking her head again. “This cannot continue,” she said, pursing her lips. “Disperse, now. Or you will force me to act.”

  A smile flickered across the old woman’s face as she crossed her arms. “We aren’t going anywhere. Touch us if you dare.”

  “So be it,” the Director snapped. “Men, take these women into custody.”

  “No!” Sam spun as Chris shouted out behind him.

  Before anyone could react, Chris charged. Sam lunged after him, trying to drag him back, but Chris was already tearing off his jacket. His tawny brown wings snapped open, and in a single bound he was airborne. The thump of his wings echoed across the square as he raced towards the Madwomen.

  “Chris!” Sam swore as Liz leapt past and raced after Chris.

  “About time,” Jasmine said, following him, a wild grin on her face.

  Sam watched, helpless as the two girls took flight after Chris. His mouth hanging open, Sam turned to look at the others. Jonathan, Ashley and Mira stared back at him, each wearing a mixture of shock, fear and amusement on their faces.

  Eyebrows raised, Sam shook his head and looked at Mira. “Is this just something we do now?”

  Grinning, Mira walked past him, her grey wings already starting to beat the air.

  “Let’s make them hurt.”

  40

  “Goddammit, Chris!” Liz shrieked as she rose from the courtyard.

  Chris didn’t look back. His wings glinted as they beat down, lifting him out of reach. The thump of feathers striking the air was barely audible over the thud of marching boots. The soldiers spread out across the square below, moving to surround the Madwomen. But as they looked up and saw Chris, they stumbled to a stop again.

  Even from two hundred feet away, Liz could see their confusion. The onlookers gasped and the Madwomen shrank back as Chris’s shadow fell across them. They retreated towards the obelisk, their composure broken by the appearance of the government’s new weapons.

  Liz smiled as her black-feathered wings carried her higher. In their eagerness to unveil the success of their experiment, the government had unwittingly given them an advantage. Those below only had eyes for their wings—not even the soldiers seemed to have realized their identities. In that moment, they didn't see them terrorists, but as allies of the government, come to bring peace to the Western Allied States.

  Only the Director knew the truth. She was already retreating through the ranks of soldiers, waving frantically at the sky and screaming as she went. But her orders only added to the confusion of the men around her. The front ranks had already reached the Madwomen, while those in the rear were looking from the Director to Chris in bewilderment.

  Before the woman could restore order, Chris folded his wings and plummeted towards the soldiers.

  Finally seeing the danger, the men around the Director fumbled at their rifles. But they had obviously not been expecting the old women to put up a fight, and most still had their weapons slung over their shoulders. Before
they could ready them, Chris slammed into their ranks like a wrecking ball.

  The wind shrieked in Liz’s ears as she beat her wings harder. Half a dozen men had fallen in Chris’s initial attack, dropped by flailing wings and fists. But they’d only been glancing blows, and most were already regaining their feet. Behind Chris, the old women were trying to retreat, but they were hemmed in by the obelisk and the crowd of onlookers, who were pressing closer, eager for a glimpse of the winged teenagers.

  Liz heard the crack of another pair of wings and glanced across the sky as Jasmine drew level with her. Below, Chris was a blur of movement. He seemed to be keeping half the soldiers preoccupied, but beyond him, the men around the Director had dropped to their knees and were lifting their rifles.

  “Dive!” Liz screamed as a bullet screeched past her ear.

  As one, the two girls tucked in their wings. Chris and the soldiers were still too far away, but the sky was no longer safe, and Liz shouted a warning to those below as she shot towards the ground. At the last second, she snapped open her wings, lurching painfully in the air, and then slammed down hard.

  Cracks spread through the granite tiles as Jasmine landed beside her. The Madwomen scrambled back as Liz and Jasmine straightened. Their eyes were wide with fear, but Liz resisted the urge to reassure them. There was no time.

  Turning, she searched for Chris, but he had disappeared behind the crowd. Cursing under her breath, she pulled her wings tight against her back and started in the direction of the soldiers. The crowd parted before her, all too eager to get out of Liz’s way.

  A soldier appeared ahead, and heart pounding in her chest, Liz charged. The man was standing over the body of an old woman, a pair of handcuffs in one hand. He looked up as Liz closed on him, but he had no time to react before her fist slammed into his chest. Pain shot through her knuckles as they connected with the body armor beneath his uniform, but it did little to soften her blow. The man’s face went white as he collapsed.

  “Nice work.” Jasmine grinned as she leapt past, already aiming for another soldier standing nearby.

  They had reached the center of the conflict now, where the soldiers were clashing with the Madwomen. Glimpsing more prone bodies, anger flared in Liz’s chest. Whatever Chris’s reasons were for charging in so recklessly, he was right about one thing: they couldn’t stand by and let the government crush the helpless women.

  She jumped as a second soldier came at her, then twisted to slam the heel of her boot into his face. The man’s head whipped back with a sickening crack and he toppled over without a sound. Liz strode over his body without hesitation, still scanning the ranks of soldiers for Chris.

  Ahead, Jasmine bore down on another soldier. The man saw her coming and wisely tried to flee, but Jasmine caught him by the arm and hauled him back. Screeching like a harpy, she spun, and hurled the soldier face-first into one of his comrades. Jasmine didn’t wait to see whether either recovered. Wings still unfurled, she spun in search of another victim.

  The soldiers were struggling to bring their rifles to bear in such close quarters. Without them, the men were practically helpless against the teenagers’ altered physiology. Liz and Jasmine moved faster than thought, able to see danger and react before the soldiers could even lift their rifles. It also didn’t hurt that some of the enemy still seemed confused about whose side the winged teenagers were on.

  A soldier with a steel baton leapt at Liz, but as she turned to meet him, he hesitated, looking from her wings to her face. Then his eyes widened with recognition, and roaring, he continued his charge.

  She batted away his attack with a casual swing of her arm, and then slammed the palm of her hand into his abdomen. He staggered and fell to one knee. As he tried to regain his feet, she drove her elbow down on the back of his head, sending him crashing to the pavement.

  Spinning, she looked for Chris again, and caught a glimpse of his tawny wings through the press of soldiers. Before she could move towards him, Sam and Mira crashed down beside her. They nodded at her, and she pointed to Chris.

  Before they could start after him, gunshots erupted from their right. Fire sliced Liz’s arm as something grazed her skin. Swearing, she dove sideways. She struck the pavement hard and rolled as the rifle roared again. Stone chips sliced her face as the bullets thumped into the ground around her, then she was up and leaping into the air. Her wings beat down, carrying her over a body. Then the men who had been shooting were right in front of her. She slammed into their midst with uncontrolled fury.

  One went down, his neck shattered by a swift blow from her boot. Wearing a savage scowl, Jasmine appeared beside her. She tore the gun from the hands of a soldier and swung it like a club at the man’s head. Blood sprayed across Jasmine’s face as the man went down screaming.

  Cries came from behind them as the last gunman fell. Glancing back, Liz glimpsed blood on the granite tiles. Her stomach wrenched. The soldiers had fired indiscriminately into the crowd, and several of the Madwomen had been caught in the crossfire. They lay deathly still in the shadow of the obelisk.

  Sam stumbled towards them, moving between the bodies littering the ground. Mira lay limp in his arms, her grey wings wrapped around her body. His own face was pale as a ghost’s. Liz’s eyes traveled down to the blood soaking through his trousers. Her heart lurched and she stepped forward and caught him as his leg gave way.

  “Exciting life you guys live,” he grunted as she held him up.

  “Is she okay?” Liz asked, glancing at Mira. The girl’s eyes were closed, but her wings hid any sign of injury. She looked around, her chest constricting in sudden panic. “Where’s Ashley?”

  Sam’s forehead creased. “I thought she was right behind us.” He bit his lip and looked at Mira. “Mira’s okay, I think. She’s still breathing.”

  Nodding, Liz spun, scanning the crowd for Ashley, but there was no sign of the redheaded girl. Chris had also disappeared into the stampeding crowd. The square had turned to pure chaos now. Bystanders stumbled through the throng of Madwomen, some attempting to flee while others sought the supposed safety of the soldiers. The chatter of gunfire echoed off the surrounding trees, sending people diving to the ground.

  The Madwomen themselves were trying to regroup around their fallen members. They stood together, arms locked to protect those who had been injured by the soldier’s bullets. Liz’s heart swelled at the sight, but beyond, she could see the soldiers regrouping too. The Director was waving her arms, giving new orders. Already the men were turning in their direction. There were still too many to fight—especially with Sam and Mira injured, and Ashley missing.

  “Ah…is that normal?” Sam asked, pointing behind her.

  Liz followed the direction of Sam’s gaze. A group of soldiers had surrounded Jasmine, but she didn’t seem to care. Her wings snapped out as the soldiers pointed their rifles, and faster than thought, she was amongst them. A scream erupted as she caught one by the throat, then ended abruptly as his blood sprayed the air. Another went down as Jasmine drove her foot into his knee, snapping the bone like plywood.

  Even Liz struggled to track Jasmine’s movements as she tore through the soldiers like a hot knife through butter. They staggered back before her, some even turning to flee, but none escaped. A low growl rumbled from Jasmine’s throat as she felled the last man and spun in search of her next victim. Her eyes settled on a nearby woman, and she started towards her.

  “Jasmine!” Liz shrieked.

  Jasmine didn’t respond, but she paused mid-stride and turned towards them. Liz’s heart lurched in her chest as she found herself staring into grey eyes. A deep, guttural growl came from Jasmine’s throat as her lips drew back in a snarl. The hackles on the back of Liz’s neck stood on end. Feathers bristling, she placed herself between Jasmine and Sam.

  “Jasmine, stop!” Liz screamed as the girl stepped towards them. “Don’t do this!”

  41

  A dull grin spread across Jasmine’s lips as she cocked her head. Liz
swallowed another scream. The Chead studied her with detached curiosity. Glancing back at Sam, Liz met his eyes. He nodded, and climbing to his feet, started to move away.

  Liz turned back just in time to catch Jasmine’s fist in the cheek. She reeled backwards, stars flashing across her vision, and only the instinctive beat of her wings kept her upright. Snarling, Jasmine came at her again, and Liz groaned as a boot slammed into her chest. Air exploded between her teeth and she bent in two, struggling to breathe.

  She dove to the side as Jasmine attacked again. The girl stumbled past her, and Liz’s wing flashed out to strike her in the face. The blow threw Jasmine off-balance, giving Liz time to recover. Straightening, the taller girl began to circle. A cold fury lit in Liz’s chest, but she pressed it down, fearful of what might happen if she unleashed it. The last thing they needed was two Chead on the loose.

  She leapt as Jasmine came at her again, her boot lashing out for the other girl’s hip. Jasmine was quicker still. Spinning, she swept up an arm to catch Liz by the leg.

  Liz screamed as Jasmine lifted her up and hurled her bodily into the crowd. She crashed into the Madwomen and went down in a pile of tangled bodies. Fear prickled her neck as she struggled to stand, while trying not to let her skin touch the civilians. Before she could free herself, a hand reached down and grasped her by the shirt.

  Her stomach lurched as Jasmine dragged her up. Raising her arms in front of her face, Liz managed to block the first punch, before the second caught her square in the forehead. Her head snapped back, her neck jarring from the force of the blow. Before Jasmine could land a third, Liz twisted in her grip, and bunching up her legs, drove them straight into the taller girl’s chest.

  The kick broke Jasmine’s grip and propelled Liz backwards through the air. Beating down hard with her wings, Liz steadied herself and dropped lightly back to the ground.

  She straightened as Jasmine gave a high-pitched screech. The other girl hurtled at her, her fingers clenched like claws, teeth glinting in the morning sun. Liz leapt to meet her, and they came together in a crash of fists and feathers. For a second, Liz managed to fend her off. But Jasmine was no longer herself. The rage behind her grey eyes fed her strength, and Liz could not match it. A blow caught her in the chest, then the head, and suddenly she found herself on her knees.