The Pursuit of Truth

by Aaron Hodges

  “Easy, Mira!” Sam caught her by the waist and hauled her back. She struggled for half a second, then went limp in his hands. Frowning, he was still wondering what had gotten into the girl, when a gasp came from the sofa.

  “Wha—?” he started to ask, before the image on the television caught his attention.

  The camera had zoomed out, revealing the stage around the President. Mike stood nearby, his hands bound in heavy chains. His face had been beaten black and blue, and he looked to be favoring his left leg. A line of soldiers stood behind him, their sleek, black rifles held at the ready, their fingers hovering close to triggers.

  “Nine days ago, this man…” The President waved a hand, pointing at Mike. “This Texan spy orchestrated an attack on the widows of our brave veterans in Independence Square. Working with the escaped fugitives, he infected several members in the crowd with the Chead virus, unleashing the creatures on our unsuspecting citizens.”

  “There’s no way anyone will believe this,” Sam whispered.

  There had to be a video, had to be something to prove the President’s words a lie.

  “I know some of you may doubt my words,” the President continued, as though reading Sam’s mind. “So today I have invited a victim of this man’s brutality to attest to what happened.”

  Gesturing to a curtain behind him, the President stepped away from the lectern, allowing a man to step into the light. Taking the President’s place, the man looked around until he found the camera.

  Sam gaped as Jonathan cleared his throat and addressed the reporters. “Thank you, Mr. President. My name is Jonathan Baker. It is my privilege to stand before you today—a privilege this traitor has denied my wife and daughter.”

  “Goddamnit, Jonathan,” Sam whispered. “You said you wanted to get back at them.”

  “Who is he?” Maria asked, but Sam only shook his head.

  On the stage, Jonathan bowed his head. “A week ago, I returned home to find my wife and daughter murdered. The fugitives had taken shelter in my apartment. Before I could escape, they knocked me out and dragged me inside. When I woke, I discovered they were being led by this man.” He nodded at Mike.

  Sam grabbed Mira as she tried to go for the television again. His own wings were trembling, his feathers lifting from his back with each inhalation. Teeth gritted, he looked at Maria, then back to the television.

  “They forced me to take them to Independence Square. They didn’t tell me what they had planned, or I never would have cooperated. There was group of older women gathered around the Independence obelisk, and many others. This man, along with the fugitives, grabbed several of the onlookers, and injected them with something. While they were preoccupied, I managed to escape, but it was too late. The Chead were already amongst the crowd.”

  The President stood beside Jonathan, his hands clasped at his front, his face solemn. He nodded as Jonathan finished. “And what happened next, Mr. Baker?”

  Jonathan glanced at the President, and for a second Sam saw a flicker of something pass across his face. The two stood staring at each other for a long moment, before Jonathan finally looked away.

  “The Chead were…amongst the crowd when the soldiers arrived. With them came…” Jonathan swallowed, his grip on the lectern tightening. “With them came…our saviors. The President’s experiments, the ones he introduced two weeks ago. They took to the air, placed themselves between the crowd and the Chead. They matched the creatures blow for blow, forcing them back, until our heroic soldiers were able to put them down.”

  “Those…” Sam cursed. Spinning, he hurled the remote at the wall. It shattered into a thousand pieces as he sank onto the sofa beside Maria.

  “Mr. President!” a reporter called from below the stage. “How did you locate the spy?”

  The President smiled. “As I said, the Director of Domestic Affairs has been working tirelessly to find the perpetrators of this attack. Mr. Baker here was found after the attack. He offered vital assistance in piecing together events in the square. And an esteemed member of our community also came forward, offering information about a dissident who had contacted him. This citizen led us directly to the Texan.”

  “Who was this citizen?”

  “At this moment, we will not be disclosing his identity. However, I can assure you he is being watched around the clock, to ensure there is no retribution from those terrorists still at large.”

  The blood in Sam’s veins turned to ice at the President’s words. He gripped the arm of the couch and turned to stare at Maria. She looked back at him, her face pale, her eyes hollow.

  “Ashley and the others have no idea what they’re walking into,” Sam whispered. And he had no way of contacting them.

  57

  “You disappoint me, professor.” Chris’s head whipped around as a sharp voice cut through the din of the other students.

  His heart almost stopped beating when he saw the Director standing at the top of the stairwell. Two familiar faces flanked her on either side—Paul and Francesca, the other test subjects they’d been forced to leave behind in the courthouse. A host of men in plain clothes crowded the double doors behind them, each carrying a deadly looking rifle.

  “How?” The professor’s voice crackled over the speakers. The students had fallen silent now. Every eye in the lecture hall was fixed on the Director.

  “Did you think we wouldn’t check up on you?” the Director replied, spreading her hands. “After you handed over the spy, we thought your life might be in danger. We thought you might need protection. But now…I find you have turned traitor yourself?”

  “No.” Chris glanced back at the lectern. The professor made his best attempt to draw himself up to full height. “It doesn’t matter now. You can’t silence these kids. Their parents would ask too many questions. It’s over—you’ll never get away with what you’ve done.”

  “Silence them?” The Director started down the staircase. Paul and Francesca followed on her heels. The students sank back into their seats, doing their best to disappear. “Why would I want to silence them? They have been lied to—it is you who has committed the crime. How dare you taint their young minds with your filth?”

  “It’s the truth!” the professor shouted, his voice taking on a high-pitched tone. “You were behind the Chead. You’re here to silence me—but you can’t hide the truth any longer.”

  “Students.” A collective shiver went through the lectern as the Director’s eyes swept over them. “I assure you, there is no relation between our experiments and the vile Chead. Take a closer look—do they look like Chead to you?” Pausing on the stairs, she gestured at her two silent companions.

  Paul and Francesca drew to a stop, then as one, their wings snapped open and they leapt into the air. Black wings swept down, almost striking the heads of the students below. They swooped towards the stage, where the professor yelped and ducked beneath the lectern. Laughter chased him as Paul and Francesca turned and rose to the steel beam overhead. Silently they settled themselves beside the projectors.

  “See? If they were Chead, half of you would be dead by now.” The Director flicked a curl of hair from her face. “No, they are our creatures. And I will answer all your questions, once we have taken the traitor into custody.”

  “No!” Chris’s heart fell into his stomach as Liz’s voice rang out across the hall. Spinning, he watched in horror as she stood. “He’s telling the truth. We all saw it.”

  “My poor dear.” The Director wore a sad smile on her lips. Apparently, they were too far away for her to have recognized Liz. “What lies has the traitor been feeding you?”

  Growling, Liz tore off her jacket. The air cracked as her wings snapped open. Nearby, several students screamed and threw themselves on the floor as twenty feet of feathers and flesh stretched across the rows of seats.

  After a moment’s hesitation, Chris followed suit. Pulling off his jacket, he couldn’t help but grin as his cramped wings unfurled. His feathers were still damp
from the rain, and a fine mist appeared around him. Ashley and Jasmine did the same, their feathers seemingly aglow in the overhead lights. Together, they stood in defiance against the Director.

  “He’s no traitor,” Liz growled. “You’re the traitor. You’re the ones who invaded our homes, who tore apart our families and murdered our friends. You’re the ones who kidnapped us to use in your depraved experiments, who have killed God-only-knows how many people, all so you could perfect your awful virus.”

  The Director still had not moved, only stood staring down at them. The blood had drained from her face, and a slight whisper came from her throat as her lips parted. Chris could almost see the gears turning behind her eyes as she tried to process what she was seeing. The armed men shifted nervously on their feet.

  Around the lecture hall, the students stared at them, their mouths agape. No doubt a few had already recognized them as the fugitives from the news—but that didn’t explain how the four of them were standing there with wings sprouting from their backs. A few of those closest even reached up to touch their feathers, as though unable to believe what they were seeing could be real. Chris shivered at the sensation but didn’t dare take his eyes from the Director.

  Suddenly, he found himself smiling. Today was definitely not going the way she had intended.

  “Take them,” the Director said, finally regaining her senses. She glanced around when her men did not react, then pointed down at Liz and screamed, “Take them!”

  The men exchanged glances and then finally began down the stairs. No doubt they knew what had happened to their colleagues back in Independence Square who’d dared challenge Chris and the others. Before they could make any progress, a young man slid from his seat to bar their path.

  “No more,” he said. He held out his arms, daring the soldiers to defy him.

  His boldness gave the men pause, and they glanced back again at the Director for further orders. Her response was abrupt and to the point. The men started down again, using their bulk to push the student from their path.

  But now others were jumping from their seats. A girl leapt into the aisle, another boy following her—then suddenly the whole lecture theatre was jostling to join them. Students poured from the rows of seats and crowded into the stairwell. Linking arms, they stood together and barred the way against the Director’s men.

  Chris watched in silence, mouth hanging open, hardly able to believe what he was seeing. The students’ actions echoed those of the Madwomen a week ago—except these young men and women had no grievance against the government. These were the children of the rich and privileged—those with every reason to take the government’s side.

  Yet here they were, defying the Director and her soldiers, putting their lives on the line for four fugitives they had never met.

  “Go.” Chris looked around as a girl spoke from the row above them. Her eyes caught his and she flashed him a smile. “Get out, quickly. Take the fire exit.”

  Swallowing a lump in his throat, Chris nodded. He turned and looked down at the stage. The professor still stood there, his face pale and arms trembling as he clutched the lectern like it was the only solid object left on earth. The stage was some thirty feet below them.

  Chris flexed the muscles in his back. “Let’s fly,” he shouted to the others, and sprang into the air.

  His wings beat down hard, lifting him over the front rows of seats. Gasps came from around the room as students ducked. The whisper of his friends’ wings chased after him as he swept towards the stage.

  All too quickly, he was landing beside the professor. Furling his wings, he checked on the Director, and grinned to see her still stuck at the top of the stairs. Her lips drew back in a snarl when she saw him watching, and he gave a little wave. She screamed again at her men, but there was no quick way of moving several hundred students from the cramped stairwell.

  Chris turned to the professor as the others landed. “Time to go, I think, sir.”

  The man stared back at Chris, his mouth hanging open. But they weren’t safe yet, and there was no time to waste on the man’s terror. Chris grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him.

  “Get whatever information you have off that computer, professor. We’ve got to go!”

  His words seemed to snap the man from his stupor. Blinking, the professor swallowed visibly and nodded. He pulled a thumb drive out of the side of the computer and handed it to Chris.

  “That’s everything!” he shouted over the din.

  Chris’s throat constricted as he took the drive—not with fear, but with sudden hope. They had come here for a cure, but if what the professor said was true, the thumb drive held all the proof they needed that the government was responsible for the Chead. He tucked it carefully into his jeans pocket.

  “Let’s go,” he said, pushing the professor in the direction of the fire exit.

  Liz and Jasmine took the lead, Ashley just a step behind. They raced across the stage, drawn towards the neon sign reading “EXIT.” Chris sucked in a breath, hardly daring to believe they might escape the trap they’d unwittingly walked into.

  He only heard the whisper of wings a second before the attack. He glimpsed a shadow on the ground, and a snarling face, then Paul plummeted from the air. The professor had time to glance up, for his mouth to fall open, before the boy’s boot slammed into his neck.

  An audible snap echoed through the theatre as the professor bounced across the carpeted floor. His body came to rest in a limp pile of arms and legs. Without checking, Chris knew he was dead. Turning from the lifeless body, he faced the boy now barring his way.

  The thump of wings came from above as Francesca landed beside Paul. They faced Chris, wings spread, and hands clenched at their sides. Paul towered over them all, his dark skin and jet-black hair seeming to drown the overhead lights. He crossed his arms and smirked. Beside him, Francesca looked frail by comparison. With her pale skin and blonde hair, she looked more ghost than human in the bright lights.

  “We haven’t been formally introduced.” Paul’s lips drew back in a snarl. “I’m Paul. You must be Chris. Where’s Sam? I wanted to say hello to the stinking traitor.”

  “Get out of the way,” Chris snapped.

  He made to step towards them and paused. He frowned, staring at them, then took a quick step back. Their faces were the same as the boy and girl he’d glimpsed back in the courthouse, but their eyes…whatever color they had been before, they were cold and grey now. They were the eyes of the Chead.

  “Get on your knees, and maybe we’ll let you live,” Francesca said.

  “You’ve changed,” Chris whispered.

  A rough growl clawed its way up from Paul’s throat. “How could we not…when you and that bastard Sam…left us to die…in agony?” A ripple crossed his face, and his lips drew back, baring his teeth.

  Chris clenched his fists. He stared at them, noticing now that neither wore the cruel shock collars they had all sported during their imprisonment. His heart lifted with sudden hope.

  “You’re free,” he pressed. “We didn’t want to leave you—we didn’t have a choice. But you have a choice now—come with us.”

  Paul threw back his head and howled with laughter. “When they take you, I will watch you suffer as we did. I will watch you all turn, and the madness claim you.”

  Chris’s heart sank as he slid into a fighting stance. “Not today.”

  58

  “Chris!” Liz screamed, as he charged the pair standing between them and the exit.

  Before she could intervene, Paul leapt forward to Chris. The two came together with a crash and rose into the air, their wings thumping hard as they darted apart.

  Distracted by their battle, Liz gasped as Francesca’s fist struck her in the chin. Rolling with the blow, she took a step back to right herself. Growling, Francesca came on, tackling her around the midriff and driving her back. Liz stumbled, but her wings beat down, steadying her.

  Before Liz could recover, Francesca�
��s hands closed around her throat like a vice. Gasping, she grabbed at Francesca’s wrists with her gloved hands, struggling to pry away her fingers. Then Jasmine shot out of nowhere and slammed into the blonde girl. Her black wings flashed, adding to her momentum, and the hands around Liz’s throat were torn away.

  Coughing, Liz sucked in a lungful of air and straightened. Jasmine stood beside her now. Together they squared off against the other girl. Watching Francesca recover, Liz didn’t miss the grey glint in her eyes. The girl had changed—that made her more dangerous than ever. If she lost control and went berserk, she would tear everyone in the lecture theater to pieces. What had the Director been thinking, bringing them here?

  Jasmine snarled and started towards the girl. Liz swallowed as she remembered that Paul and Francesca were the ones who had attacked them in the courthouse. The fight had delayed their escape and had ended up getting Richard killed.

  “Jasmine,” Liz called as she joined her friend, “careful.”

  Jasmine flicked her a glance, her eyes shimmering, and for a moment Liz thought it was already too late. Then Jasmine let out a long breath, and the light faded from her eyes. She nodded and turned her attention back to Francesca.

  With a roar, Francesca spread her wings and leapt into the air. Stretching her own wings, Liz was about to chase after her, until Jasmine grabbed her by the arm. Before she could object, Jasmine nodded in the direction of the soldiers.

  The students were starting to fall back, as the soldiers used the butts of their rifles to muscle their way through. Enough still stood their ground to slow the soldiers’ progress—and more importantly, hide Liz and the others from their line of vision. But if they took flight, the soldiers would have a clear shot.

  Overhead, Francesca shrieked when she saw Jasmine and Liz weren’t following. Folding her wings, she plummeted towards them. Her face darkened, her grey eyes growing hard, and Liz knew it was no longer Francesca staring out. Jasmine may have gotten a hold of her rage, but the other girl had succumbed.