The Praegressus Project: Part One

by Aaron Hodges

  Lowering himself to the ground, Chris blinked sweat from his eyes. Using one large orange sleeve, he wiped his forehead clear and shook his head at Liz.

  “You’re fast,” he croaked.

  It was the second day since their awakening, and since then the two of them had barely spoken. Despite her reluctant greeting in the cell, Liz remained withdrawn. She had been quiet when they spoke in the cell, and said little of her past.

  Liz only shrugged. Two blue eyes glanced at him, and then away. “It’s the air,” she breathed. “We’re in the mountains – I can taste it. You’re probably not used to the altitude.”

  Chris nodded, and stars danced across his vision. A groan built in his throat as he saw Liz straighten, but he pushed it down and lifted himself to his feet. Ignoring the ache in his muscles, they moved across to join the others.

  Sam and Ashley stood with their hands on their hips, looking like they had barely broken a sweat. Chris cursed himself for exerting so much energy. Who knew what else the day had in store for them.

  Yesterday, they had been taken into a laboratory and put through a series of tests. The doctors had worked with a cool efficiency, asking questions, giving instructions, taking measurements, all the while steadfastly refusing to engage with the captives. Behind the doctors, the guards remained colder still, their hard eyes following the prisoners’ every movement.

  The tests had been easy, little more than a thorough examination by the local GP. But now it seemed the easy part was over. That morning they had been roused in the early hours by the shriek of a buzzer and the sudden brilliance of the overhead lights. For a few seconds Chris had tried to resist, exhausted after a long night spent tossing and turning, unable to sleep. But Sam and Ashley had been insistent, dragging them from their beds to stand for inspection.

  Within minutes, the guards marched past. A doctor accompanied them, pausing outside each cell to make notes on his electronic tablet. Chris shivered as the man’s eyes fell on him. There had been a mindless look to him, a mechanical way in which he took the roster, as though this was no more than an inventory check at the grocery store.

  When the doctor left, the guards returned with a trolley. The hallway rang with the sound of bowls sliding through metal grates. Chris had stared for a long moment at the oatmeal congealing in his bowl, before the rumbling of his stomach won him over. Resigning himself, he’d taken up his spoon and eaten all he could.

  Then their escort of doctors and guards had arrived, taking them from the quiet of their cell and marching them through the facility to this field – if it could be called that. The open space was the size of a football field, but there was not a blade of grass in sight.

  Instead, a fine dust covered the ground, spreading out across the oval like snow. A running track ran around its circumference, edged by tall, imposing walls that hemmed them in on all sides. The cold grey concrete stretched up almost thirty feet, interspersed with the metal railings of observation decks. A guard stood at each deck, rifles held in ready arms.

  Above the walls, the sun beat down from the cloudless blue sky. The world outside was hidden by the walls, and whether Liz’s mountains existed beyond remained a mystery.

  Other than the doctors and their escort of guards, the field was empty. The doctors had made quick notes on their ever-present tablets, before nodding to the guards. Orders were barked, and the four of them had set off running.

  Now they stood together in a little circle, panting softly as they waited for the next command. The doctors hovered nearby, their eyes fixed on their tablets, talking quietly amongst themselves. The guards still stood beside them, their dark eyes fixed on the prisoners.

  Beyond the little group of overseers, a red light started to flash above the door they’d entered through. A buzzer sounded, short and sharp. Beside the doctors, the guards straightened, turning to face the entrance. The door gave a loud click and swung inwards.

  Another group of doctors entered, followed by four prisoners in matching orange uniforms. Chris scanned the faces of the doctors, searching for Fallow, but there was no sign of her. His shoulders slumped and he clenched his fists, struggling to contain his disappointment. The woman was his only remaining link to his mother, but she had been conspicuously absent since their initiation.

  As the group moved towards them, Chris sensed movement beside him. Glancing at the others, he was surprised to see Sam’s face harden, the easy smile slipping from his lips. The older boy reached out and grasped Ashley by the wrist, then nodded in the direction of the newcomers. Ashley’s face paled when she saw the group of orange prisoners, and she stumbled sideways a step before Sam caught her.

  “What?” Chris hissed.

  The two glanced at each other and then shook their heads. “Nothing,” Sam muttered.

  Before Chris could say anything more, the new group of inmates pulled up across from them. They hovered a few paces away, three boys and a girl, their eyes studying Chris and the others with suspicion. Chris stared back, wondering at the reaction of Sam and Ashley.

  Clearing his throat, one of the doctors stepped between the two groups. He glanced at his tablet, then left and right. “Ashley and Samuel. Richard and Jasmine. You have already qualified for the next round of analysis. You are here to ensure your health does not deteriorate.”

  Chris watched a flicker of discomfort cross the faces of a boy and girl in the opposite group, and guessed they were the ones the man was addressing. Richard sported short blond hair and angry green eyes that did not waver from Ashley and Sam. He was almost a foot shorter than Sam, but more than matched the larger boy for muscle. He kept his arms crossed tight, his stocky shoulders hunched, and a scowl fixed on his face.

  The girl, who he guessed was Jasmine, stood head to head beside Richard, a matching glare twisting her red lips. Her hair floated in the breeze, the black locks brushing across her face. The skin around her brown eyes pinched as she turned towards Chris, and caught him staring. Air had hissed between her teeth as she raised one jet-black eyebrow.

  Chris quickly looked away, his heart beginning to race. Between them, the doctor had turned his attention on them.

  “Elizabeth and Christopher, today we will test your fitness and athleticism, to assess your suitability for the next stage of the program. William and Joshua will be joining you. I suggest you get acquainted.”

  Chris’s eyes drifted over to the other boys, and found them staring back. Their eyes did not hold the same animosity as Jasmine and Richard, just a wary distrust. The one on the left was a scrawny stickman of a figure, his long arms and legs little more than bone. Sharp cheekbones stood out on his face, and his jade-green eyes held more than a hint of fear. The other was larger, his arms well-muscled, but he did not match Richard or Sam for sheer bulk. He stood several inches above Chris’s five-foot-eleven, and had long blond hair that hung down around his shoulders.

  Seeing neither of the two were about to introduce themselves, Chris made to step towards them. Sam’s hand flashed out, catching him by the shoulder. Chris glanced at the larger boy, raising an eyebrow in question, but Sam only shook his head. Settling back in line, Chris glanced at Liz and saw his own confusion reflected in her eyes. Ashley’s hand clenched around her wrist, holding her back.

  The doctor glanced between the two groups, and with a shrug, pressed on. “Very well,” he cleared his throat, “All of you, line up,” he paused as the eight of them moved hesitantly to stand in one line, and then nodded. “Today–”

  The doctor broke off, his brow creasing as the buzzer by the entrance sounded again. As one, the group turned towards the door. Chris shuddered as he glimpsed the face of the newcomer. Unconsciously he took a step back. A shiver ran through him, raising goose bumps down his arms and neck.

  CHAPTER 11

  Chris shivered as Doctor Halt strode towards them, his eyes surveying the group as he approached. His arms swung casually at his sides, as though this were no more than a casual Sunday stroll for him. A s
mile played across his thin lips. He drew to a stop alongside the doctor that had been addressing them.

  “Doctor Radly,” his voice was like honey. “How goes training day?”

  “Good,” Radly spoke with hesitation. He was obviously surprised to see Halt. “How can I help you, sir?”

  A soft laughter whispered from Halt’s lips. “I thought I might assist,” his eyes slid across the group of prisoners. “We need to advance our schedule – the directors are demanding results.”

  Radly bit his lips, eying them uncertainly. “We have four candidates ready in this unit. We still need time to assess the remaining four. Most of the other units are the same.”

  Shaking his head, Halt strode down the line, his eyes sweeping over each of them in turn. As Halt passed him, Chris risked a glance at the others. Sam and Ashley stared straight ahead, steadfastly ignoring the presence of Richard and Jasmine beside them. A hint of perspiration shimmered from Sam’s brow, but otherwise the two of them seemed untouched by the run. On his other side, Liz stood with arms folded, while beyond the two newcomers wore uncertain frowns on their faces.

  The crunch of gravel warned Chris of Halt’s return, and he quickly turned to face straight ahead again. The man’s eyes stared hard at Chris as he passed, and then moved on to Liz. The thud of his boots continued down the line as he went on to examine Joshua and William, before returning.

  Scowling, Halt stood beside Doctor Radly. Raising an arm, he pointed at Liz, then to the lanky boy from the other group. “Those two,” he scowled. “Pitiful creatures if ever I saw them. They won’t last long.”

  Radly opened his mouth, then closed it. Glancing at his e-tablet, he shook his head and looked back at Halt. “Sir, we have a framework in place…” he trailed off as Halt stared at him.

  Silence fell across the group of doctors. Chris glanced sideways at Liz, his heart beating hard against his chest. The girl stood staring straight ahead, her brow creased, fists clenched at her side. Though she did not move an inch, Chris could sense the tension building in her tiny frame, like a cat preparing to spring.

  “Well, let’s see,” Halt’s voice came again. A second later he strode past and stopped in front of Liz. “Elizabeth Flores,” he looked her up and down. “How good to see you again.”

  Liz didn’t move, just stood staring straight ahead. Nodding, Halt moved onto his next victim. “William Beth, a sorry looking excuse for a man, if ever I saw one.”

  A tremor went through the boy as he stepped back and raised his arms. “Please, sir, please, I’ll do whatever you say.”

  Halt took another step forward, and the boy stumbled backwards. His feet slipped in the dust and he crashed to the ground. Towering over him, Halt sneered. “Pathetic,” he spat. “Get up.”

  William nodded. He scrambled to his feet, eyes wide with terror. “Please–”

  His plea was cut off as Halt’s hand flashed out and caught him by the throat. Without apparent effort, the doctor hoisted the boy into the air. William gave a half-choked scream, his face darkening. His hands batted at Halt’s arm, his legs kicking feebly in the air, but Halt did not waver. His cold grey eyes watched as the boy’s struggles slowly grew weaker.

  Chris watched in horror, his mouth open in a silent scream. A voice in his head screamed for him to help, but as he shifted an iron hand shot out and caught him by the wrist. He glanced back, opening his mouth to argue, but looking at Sam’s face, the words died on his tongue. There was a cold despair in Sam’s brown eyes, a haggard look to his face. Slowly, he shook his head.

  Turning back, Chris watched as Halt tossed William to the ground. A low groan came from the boy as he struck, his legs collapsing beneath him. Dust billowed out around him. Gasping for breath, he struggled to his hands and knees and tried to crawl away.

  Halt followed him at a casual stroll. Without taking his eyes from the boy, he began to speak. “You are all here at my pleasure. But I have no use for the weak,” apparently losing patience with his victim, he lifted a foot and drove his boot into the small of his back. William collapsed face first into the ground.

  Lifting his boot, Halt stared down at the boy. “Get up.”

  Arms shaking, William managed to lift himself to his hands and knees. His beet-red face looked up at Halt, eyes watering. He swayed where he crouched and a tremor went through him, but he made no move to stand.

  Shaking his head, Halt growled. “Wretched specimen. Well, if you’re too lazy to stand, I will give you one last chance to prove your merit. How many pushups can you do?”

  A confused look came over the boy’s face. “Push… pushups?”

  “Yes.” Halt took a step closer, his face darkening.

  William shook his head. “I… I don’t know…”

  Halt sucked in a breath. He turned to face the other doctors. “He doesn’t know.” He gave a soft laugh and turned back to the boy. “Well, shall we find out then?”

  He stared down at the boy, waiting for a reply, but William had gone quiet. The eyes of every doctor and prisoner were on him. Chris held his breath, sensing the trap in Halt’s tone, but not knowing how it would be sprung.

  “Well, get to it then,” Halt snapped. He looked up at the doctor hovering nearby. “Radly, you can call the count for us.”

  At Halt’s feet, a sharp sob came from William. Slowly, he lowered his hands to the ground and spread his legs. As Radly shouted out the count, William lowered himself to within an inch of the ground and then straightened his arms again.

  Chris and the others watched on, faces grim, as Radly continued to count. Beside him, Liz’s expression was unreadable, though there was a slight sheen to her eyes, hinting at tears.

  As Radly reached fifteen, William’s arms began to tremble. His breath came in ragged gasps and his face flushed red. A shudder ran through his bony body, and with a sob he collapsed to the ground. A triumphant grin spread across Halt’s face as he folded his arms.

  “Sixteen,” Radly repeated the call.

  “Please,” William coughed, lying with limbs splayed across the ground, “please, please I can’t!”

  “Keep going,” Halt snarled.

  He tried, Chris had to give him that. Veins popping in his forehead, teeth clenched, arms shaking with the effort, the boy managed half a pushup before he collapsed back to the ground. This time he didn’t bother to beg, just lay staring up at Halt, a haunted look in his eyes.

  Shaking his head, Halt looked across at them. “In case you were wondering, this is what ‘weak’ looks like.” Cold eyes still watching them, Halt reached down and tapped the sleek black glass of his watch.

  Chris flinched as an awful scream came from the ground. He stumbled backwards, turning to face the source, raising his fists to defend himself. But there was no threat – just William, thrashing on the ground, his half-gasped screams clawing their way up from his throat. Eyes wide and staring, William’s head slammed back against the ground. His fingers bent into claws, scrambling at the steel collar around his neck, even as another convulsion tore through him.

  Panic gripped Chris and he stepped towards the boy. Sam’s iron grasp stopped him again, pulling him back. Chris swore, struggling to break free, unable to stand by and watch the torture any longer. He looked at Sam, fighting to break free, but Sam only stared passed him, eyes never leaving the convulsing boy. Behind him, Ashley stood as still as a statue, her eyes fixed on William, her face expressionless. Her scarlet hair blew across her face, but she did not so much as raise a hand to brush it away.

  The fight went from Chris in a rush. Shuddering with horror, he turned back.

  “Such a shame, to see our people come to this,” Halt’s words slithered through the air, filled with contempt. “Once upon a time we were proud, strong. Our forefathers marched to war with joy in their hearts and sent the cowards of the United States scurrying. Even then they did not stop. They followed the enemy back to their holes, and left a smoking crater in the heart of their so-called democracy.”


  Chris gritted his teeth. Beside Halt, William’s struggles were weakening, his eyes closing as the veins on his neck stood taught. Agony swept across his features, contorting his face into a twisted scowl.

  Still Halt spoke. “How your ancestors would turn in their graves to know of your treachery, of your betrayal of the nation they fought to create.”

  Forcing his eyes closed, Chris sucked in a breath. The hand on his shoulder gave a gentle squeeze, but otherwise Sam stayed silent. Through the strangled screams, Halt’s words twisted their way through Chris’s ears. The wrinkled, smiling face of his grandmother drifted through his mind, telling of how her husband had fought and died in the American war. In 2020, a conglomerate of Washington, Oregon and California had unilaterally ceded from the United States. Arizona and New Mexico had quickly joined them, as support poured in from Canada and Mexico.

  For a few years, a tense peace had hovered between the newly formed Western Allied States and the USA. However, talks had quickly descended to threats, as the USA demanded their return to the union. Within a few years, war was declared, and chaos had engulfed North America. A decade of conflict followed, leaving thousands dead on both sides.

  Then, as the war was coming to a head, the Western Allied States had made one last, desperate gamble. In one decisive strike, Washington, DC was left in ruins, the leadership of the United States demolished in a single blow. The remnants of the union quickly crumbled then, leaving a scattering of independent states who either signed for peace, or were overrun.

  Many scholars argued the values and beliefs of both nations had been lost the day Washington, DC fell. The Western Allied States had been left tainted, their ideals corrupted by that one act of evil. Watching Halt torture the helpless boy, Chris could not help but agree.