by Aaron Hodges
Chris pulled Ashley tight against him. He couldn’t understand why she hadn’t fled with Liz and Jasmine, but he was suddenly glad to have her there. Together they faced the black barrels of the soldiers’ guns, and waited for death to come.
“On your knees.” The Director’s voice carried to them from the top of the hall.
Slowly, she descended to the stage. Chris’s eyes were drawn to two silver bands she held in each hand. His heart clenched as he recognized the shock collars. Ashley’s grip tightened around his waist. He felt her beginning to shake.
“Kill us,” he croaked. “We’re not going back.”
The Director’s face didn’t change. The soldiers still on the stairwell gave way before her. As she reached the stage, she held up the collars. “They weren’t meant for you.” She nodded to the limp bodies of Paul and Francesca. “I removed them as a show of trust. But I kept them handy, just in case.”
“Get it over with,” Ashley whispered beside him. “You can’t make us go back, so you might as well end this farce.”
“But who will replace my faithful servants?” The Director raised an eyebrow. “You’ve made such a mess of them, the least you can do is take their place.”
“Go to hell.” Chris stepped towards her.
Two dozen rifles lifted half an inch and pointed in his direction. The soldiers glanced at the Director, waiting for her order. Despite himself, Chris hesitated. Now that the end had come, he found himself wanting to draw out this moment, to savor every last breath.
The Director pursed her lips. Turning her back on Chris and Ashley, she looked up at the students. “They’re all traitors, you know.” She laughed, the sound cold and hollow. “You know the punishment for traitors.”
As though following an unspoken command, the soldiers still stationed at the top of the lecture theatre swung the heavy double doors closed. The men on the stairwell pointed their rifles into the rows where the students huddled. Several cried out as the Director returned her attention to Chris.
“Don’t,” he whispered.
“Why not?” The Director raised an eyebrow.
“Please,” Ashley begged, and a smile spread across the Director’s face.
Lifting the collars, she tossed them down at their feet. “Put them on, and I will spare them.”
“No,” Ashley said, but even as the word left her lips, she was slumping to her knees.
Chris crouched beside her. They looked at each other, and he could see her terror. Then Ashley closed her eyes and swallowed. When they opened again, her fear had fled. She gripped Chris by the shoulder. Neither spoke, but Chris nodded. Together, they picked up the collars.
“Put them on,” the Director repeated.
Nodding, Chris steeled himself, and lifted the collar to his throat. He shivered as the cold steel touched his flesh, fighting the urge to hurl the thing from him. Closing his eyes, he fumbled at the clasps, and pressed them together. The collar gave an audible click as it settled into place.
A pit opened in Chris’s stomach. Another click came from Ashley’s collar, sealing their fate. Together, they met the Director’s gaze, now helpless slaves before her wrath. She smirked and lifted her wrist, showing them the controller she wore as a watch.
“You remember this?” She waited until they both nodded. “Good. Behave, and I won’t have to use it.”
Chris bit his lip and stared at the carpet, too afraid to do anything else. Despair welled in his chest, robbing him of strength.
“Excellent, you may yet prove useful.” The Director laughed and Chris flinched, the sound grating in his ears. “Okay, men, let’s finish this mess. Kill them all.”
Chris’s heart lurched as he saw the soldiers lifting their rifles. A scream clawed its way up from his chest, and he started to his feet. The soldiers opened fire, and a deafening roar filled the lecture hall. Screaming again, he leapt at the Director, determined to tear her limb from limb.
Before he could take two steps, white fire wrapped around his neck and his feet went out from under him. Then he was on his back, his muscles spasming, his whole body convulsing as the boom of gunfire echoed around him. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Unable to breathe, to think, to do anything, Chris listened as three hundred students were murdered where they knelt.
Only when silence returned did the darkness finally rise to claim him.
60
Drenched from the rain, the earth sank beneath Liz’s feet as she touched down in the garden of the safe house. Her legs crumpled beneath her and she fell into the mud. Raising a fist, she drove it into the ground, an awful scream echoing through the night.
Movement came from inside the house as a light switched on. A shadow appeared in the window, a face looking out. Then Jasmine was at Liz’s side, grabbing her by the shoulders, shaking her and hissing for her to be quiet.
Liz didn’t care. Her whole body ached from the fight with Francesca, but that pain was nothing to what she felt in her soul. It wasn’t just Chris’s death; her every loss, every hurt was resurfacing, bubbling up within until she felt she would explode from the agony of it all.
Another scream echoed through the night as she fought to break Jasmine’s hold, to give action to her pain, to pound the earth until it broke, or she did. She wanted to rage, to scream, to—
“What happened?”
Liz froze as a familiar voice spoke from the darkness. She opened her mouth, but the words died in her throat. Sam stood over her, face gaunt, his jaw clenched hard, and she realized he already knew. But he had to ask the question anyway, she could see it in his eyes.
“Where’s Ashley and Chris?”
“Dead.” The word slipped from Liz like a prayer, as though if she put enough of herself into it, it might not be true.
The pronouncement struck Sam like a bullet. He staggered, his hand clenched hard against his chest. Jasmine’s grip on Liz loosened, and tearing herself free, she went to him in a rush. Their sobs whispered through the trees as they clung to one another.
When they finally broke apart, Liz was surprised to find a crowd had gathered. She swallowed as she scanned the faces of the Madwomen, knowing Maria would be there, but unsure whether she had the strength to face her.
Tears shone on Chris’s grandmother’s cheeks as she stepped from the crowd. The rain had stopped long ago, and moonlight shone down from a clear sky, illuminating the age lines of her face.
“I’m sorry,” Liz found herself saying, “he gave his life to help us escape. He gave his life so we could give you this.”
Her hand slid into her pocket, producing the thumb drive Chris had given to her before she fled. Holding it up to the light, she offered it to Maria.
“Our government created the Chead. All the proof we need is on this drive.”
A collective gasp came from the other women at her words. Sam’s head whipped around, his eyes widening, but barely a flicker crossed Maria’s face. She looked from Liz to the drive, and back again, then reached out and closed Liz’s hand. Without saying a word, the old woman turned and stumbled back into the house.
“What…?” Liz whispered. She stood there in shock, staring after Chris’s grandmother.
“Liz…” Sam murmured, shaking his head.
“What is it?” she hissed, her rage resurfacing. Chris had died so they could bring this drive to safety, so they could show it to the world. Now his own grandmother was rejecting that sacrifice, and she wanted to know why.
“We’re at war,” Sam replied. “The country is in lockdown. They’ve already taken the media. If what you’re saying is true, if the government really did create the Chead, we have no way of telling the people.”
“No,” Liz whispered. A gulf opened inside her, threatening to swallow her whole. The only reason she’d left Chris was to share their discovery, to ensure his sacrifice brought down the ones that had done this to them. Cracks spread through her consciousness as she shook her head. “No, it can’t all have been for nothin
g.”
She swayed on her feet and would have fallen if Sam and Jasmine hadn’t caught her. They held her tight, the three of them clinging to one another like they were the last people on earth.
“It won’t be,” Sam said finally. There were tears on his cheeks as he pulled back. “We won’t let it.”
Liz clung to his words like a lifeline. Gritting her teeth, she summoned every ounce of her rage. She drew strength from its fire, purpose from the hate that fueled it. Drawing in a breath, she nodded at Sam.
“Let’s make them pay.”
Epilogue
The breath caught in Susan’s throat as she looked at the lights of the town. For endless days and nights, the Chead had raced across the open countryside. She had run with them, reveling in her newfound strength. Light bled into dark, but it no longer made any difference whether she traveled by the moon or the sun. At times, the red haze would sweep over her, but she embraced it now, thrilling in the power it gave her.
When they stopped for rest, she would find herself in Hecate’s arms, his lips beneath hers, and all memory of her past life would fall away. The voice in her mind grew weaker with each passing day, until it seemed only a distant memory. She had become a creature of instinct, driven by need, by desire.
Now, darkness stretched out in all directions, except where the humans had built their homes. The ring of lights stood in defiance of the night, like a cocoon, protecting its occupants from peril.
That was how the humans were, she knew. Scurrying away in the dirt, always hiding from the power of Mother Nature, from the wrath she might bring. But it was not Mother Nature they need fear. Not tonight.
Tonight, it was their own folly that came for them.
Susan saw the truth now, saw the cruelty of the human species, the lives they destroyed in their endless quest for power. How she longed to undo her past, to take back the evils she had wrought. Recalling of those strange memories, she found herself confused, unable to understand what had driven her in that time before the red haze.
There was only hunger now, the thirst for slaughter, the lust for her mate.
Hecate stood beside her, his scent lingering in her nostrils. It was intoxicating, like a drug she could not live without. Together they watched the little town, contemplating its distant glow. Movement came from around them. The full moon lit the hillside, revealing the gathered Chead. They spread across the grassy slopes, preparing themselves.
Returning her gaze to the town, Susan thought of what was to come. From deep in her mind, she felt a tug, a remembered pang from another life. She shook her head and it faded. The red haze rose to replace it.
A call went out across the hilltop. It was followed by slow, silent movement as the Chead slid down the hill towards the unsuspecting town. Their faces took on a new light in the glow of the moon, so they seemed almost ghosts, spirits of the things they had once been.
Humans.
The word rang in her mind, and for a moment Susan paused. The red haze flickered, and the breath caught in her throat. Unbidden, an image appeared in her mind. She saw a dimly lit room. A fire crackled in the hearth, and there was a man and a woman in each other’s arms, a child nestled up against their legs.
Pain seeped into Susan’s chest as she stilled. The image grew, then shrank, as though struggling to exist in the darkness of her mind. She wondered where it had come from, what it meant, who they were.
“Are you…ready?” Hecate’s lips brushed against her ear.
Susan sucked in a breath, the sweet scent of her mate filling her nostrils. She shivered as the haze returned, consuming the image in flames of rage.
I am yours.
Smiling, Susan looked up at Hecate. Today marked the beginning of a new age. Once, lions had roamed the earth from Africa to Europe to the Americas. Then had come Homo erectus, and the time of the lion had ended. Humanity had followed, creeping across the planet, extinguishing all that threatened it.
Now their time was ending.
Another species had come to take their place.
The age of the Chead had begun.
“I’m ready.”
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Phase Two: Complete.
The Evolution Gene concludes with…
The Way the World Ends
Note from the Author
Phew, that was quite a mammoth effort to put that one together. This book combines Renegades and Retaliation, the original stories from the Praegressus Project (along with a few never seen before scenes!). So I hope the jump from the adrenaline rush in part three to the slowdown in part four wasn’t too jarring! Anyway, hopefully you enjoyed the book, and if you did don’t forget to pop back over the Amazon and leave a review :)
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Also by Aaron Hodges
The Evolution Gene
Book 1: The Genome Project
Book 2: The Pursuit of Truth
Book 3: The Way the World Ends
Legend of the Gods
Book 1: Oathbreaker
Book 2: Shield of Winter
Book 3: Dawn of War
The Sword of Light Trilogy
Book 1: Stormwielder
Book 2: Firestorm
Book 3: Soul Blade
Liz has lost everything.
Her home, her family, maybe even her humanity.
But she’s not dead yet.
Read Now…
Prologue
Liz sat on the edge of the rooftop, her feet dangling out over empty air. Her body tensed as she looked out at the city, her gloved hands gripping tight to the concrete lip. Skyscrapers rose up around her, dwarfing the nondescript apartment building on which she sat. The first glow of the rising sun lit the horizon, but San Francisco remained in shadow, all color leached away. With strict power rations in place, there was hardly a streetlight left to cast back the gloom.
It made the night perfect for hunting.
Four weeks had passed since their time at the university. Hardly a day had gone that she did not curse herself for fleeing, for running away and leaving Chris to die. Never mind that there had been nothing she could have done to save him; she blamed herself anyway.
After all, Ashley had found the courage to stay and fight. Poor, broken Ashley, who just days before had frozen at the merest sign of danger. She had been through more than any of them, had suffered alone at the hands of Doctor Halt; yet when their backs had been against the wall, it was Ashley who’d stepped up. Alone, she had fought off the Chead, and given Liz and Jasmine the chance to escape.
Liz almost hated her for it.
It should have been me!
She stood suddenly, her boots balancing precariously on the thin ledge. Fists clenched, she stared down at the hundred-foot drop, her stomach swirling.
She saw again Chris’s face—tight with pain, his lips drawn back in a snarl, his broken wing hanging limp. Injured and outmatched, he had thrown himself between the Chead and Ashley, determined to sacrifice himself for his friend. But Ashley had remained, and the two of them had perished in the massacre that followed.
Liz’s only comfort was that they’d died believing their sacrifice had meant something—that their deaths had allowed their friends to expose the truth about the Chead, that the government was behind the creation and spread of the deadly virus.
Battling through their grief, Liz and Jasmine had carried the thumb drive the professor had given them back to the safehouse. Tears streaming down her face, Liz had told the old woman about her grandson’s fate, and offered her the thumb drive.
But Maria had turned away, rejecting her grandson’s sacrifice. At the time, Liz couldn’t begin to understand her reaction. Between the thumb drive and students who’d witnessed Professor McKenzie�
��s discover, not even the Director of Domestic Affairs could silence the truth this time.
Or so she had thought.
Lost and confused, Liz had looked to her friends for an explanation. Only then had Sam told her what had happened.
The story had hit the news before they’d even reached the safehouse. “Texas” had launched a counter-attack—supposedly in retaliation for the capture of their operative—and had slaughtered hundreds of students at the University of San Francisco.
In response, the Western Allied States had declared war on the rogue state, allowing it to enact emergency wartime legislation. The media had been censored, a nationwide curfew set between the hours of 7pm and 7am, strict rations placed over the nation’s resources, and soldiers now patrolled the streets of San Francisco.
Worst of all, they had resumed the draft, requiring all able-bodied men and women to report to their nearest military recruitment office. One in five were to be conscripted and trained for the coming war. The process was supposed to be random, but in reality, it was rural youth they were taking.
Or so the rumors went.
Liz winced as pain flared in the palms of her hands. Fingers shaking, she saw the blood staining her white gloves. Her nails had cut straight through the fine material and pierced her skin. Sucking in a breath, she forced herself to relax. Rage bubbled in her chest, but she refused to set it free. A cold breeze blew across the rooftop, but her long black hoody and pants kept her warm. Spring was well underway, but this was San Francisco, and the wind rarely let up.
