The Praegressus Project: Part One

by Aaron Hodges

  Liz smiled as she approached the final bend in the track. The house was only a short thirty-minute walk up the mountain, but she was still glad to see the end of it. It had been a long journey from San Francisco.

  Around her the trees opened out, revealing the homestead sitting at the trail’s end. Glancing around, Liz listened for the first shouts of welcome. Her family employed a dozen labourers on the property, and most were like family to her.

  Silence.

  A shiver went through Liz as she closed on the homestead. Her eyes flickered around the collection of buildings, searching for movement, for signs of life.

  It was only then she saw the bodies.

  They lay strewn across the homestead, torn and broken, their faces grey and dead. Blood splattered the walls nearby, streaked across the peeling paint. Her eyes swept over the bodies, lingering on their faces. There was Nancy, the old woman who had helped raise her, who had cooked meals while her mother helped in the fields. And there, Henry, the man her father thought of as a brother.

  Standing amidst the carnage, Liz’s eyes drifted up to the building she called home. Without thinking, she found herself moving towards it. Her movements were jerky, her breath coming as desperate sobs. Reaching the old wooden door, she pushed it open.

  It swung inwards without resistance, revealing the wreckage within. Swallowing a scream, Liz staggered inside, eyes sweeping the shattered plaster walls, the torn-up floorboards. Dust and rubble lay strewn across the floor, mingling with the blood pooling at the end of the corridor.

  Barely daring to breathe, Liz stepped inside the house. With cautious footsteps, she slid down the corridor, eyes fixed on the blood. She winced at each soft tread of her boots, the sound impossibly loud in the silent house.

  The corner neared. In a sudden rush, Liz darted forward, eyes wide, desperate to see…

  Liz screamed and threw up her arms, tearing herself from the nightmare. Her eyes snapped open, but absolute darkness stretched out around her and she screamed again, thrashing against the tangle of covers wrapped around her. The bed creaked as she rolled. The safety bar creaked as she slammed into it, then gave way. She found herself falling, plummeting through empty air, a final scream tearing from her throat.

  Thud.

  A bolt of agony lanced through her arms as she struck the concrete. The last tendrils of the dream fell away, plunging her back into reality – and the pain that went with it. She groaned, her throat burning as it pressed against the cold steel of her collar.

  “What?” somewhere in the darkness, a voice shouted.

  “Who’s there?” someone else yelled.

  “Liz?” She recognised Chris’s voice.

  Above her, his bunk rattled as he moved. Then hands were reaching for her, grasping her shoulder, pulling her up.

  “Are you alright?” Chris’s voice came again.

  Half in shock, Liz couldn’t manage more than a nod. Distantly, she was surprised at the tenderness in his words, his sudden concern. A second later, she realised he could not see her nod. Opening her mouth, she managed a croak. “Yes.”

  As sanity slowly returned, a wave of embarrassment swept through Liz. She closed her eyes, silently berating herself for her panic. It had been so long since she’d had the dream – months, maybe even a year. Why had it returned now, after all this time?

  “What happened?” Sam’s voice was heavy with sleep.

  “Sorry,” Liz murmured, heart still racing. “Was just a bad dream.”

  “Some bad dream,” Ashley’s hand settled on her shoulder. “Go back to bed, Sam. You need your beauty sleep.”

  A string of inaudible mumbling came from Sam’s bed, quickly followed by a soft snore.

  Arms shaking, Liz pulled herself up, helped by Chris on one side, Ashley on the other.

  “It’s okay,” she murmured and then suppressed a groan.

  Her throat was aflame, throbbing with each beat of her heart. She tried to swallow, but it only made the pain worse. The steel collar dug into her swollen throat. Gasping, she fought for breath.

  “What’s wrong?” Chris asked in the darkness, taking her weight beneath his shoulder.

  “My throat,” Liz gasped.

  “Water.” Somehow Chris understood. “Ashley, help me get her to the sink.”

  A sharp pain twisted through Liz’s shin where she’d landed as she tried to take her weight. With a silent moan, she collapsed back against them. To her right, Ashley swore as the shift in weight sent her stumbling into the bed. Then she straightened, shifted her body beneath Liz’s shoulder, and helped her the few steps to the sink.

  Liz slumped to the ground as Ashley released her. The sound of water followed as Chris helped her to sit comfortably.

  “Here,” Ashley whispered. “Open your mouth, Liz. The water will help.”

  Liz obeyed as Ashley’s hands fumbled at her face. She almost lost an eye before Ashley finally found her lips. Then cool water dripped into her mouth, trickling from the palm of the girl’s hands. Swallowing slowly, Liz let out a long sigh as the cold spread down her throat.

  They repeated the procedure three more times before Liz’s breathing began to ease. At last she croaked for them to stop, and they settled back down together on Ashley’s bed.

  “How are you feeling now?” Ashley whispered.

  In the other bed, Sam was still snoring. Listening in the darkness, Liz found herself jealous of the boy’s ability to sleep through anything. She desperately needed the release of sleep, to escape the pain of her beaten body. But she knew it would not come now, not after the dream.

  “I’m okay,” she breathed. “You should go back to sleep.”

  A soft chuckle came from the girl. “My bed’s a little crowded now. It’s okay, I think the lights will turn on soon.”

  Her words were met by a distant clang, followed by a low buzzing in the ceiling. Liz blinked as white light flooded the room, then raised an eyebrow at Ashley. She sat beside Liz, her yellow eyes ringed by shadow, the scarlet locks of her tangled with sleep. A smile tugged at her lips.

  A groan came from the opposite bed as Sam rolled over and pulled the pillow over his head.

  “God,” Chris’s voice came from her other side.

  Liz turned to face him. “What?”

  He blinked and shook his head. “Your neck, no wonder you couldn’t breathe. It’s a rather attractive shade of purple.”

  Liz lifted a hand and touched a finger to her throat, but flinched back as the muscles spasmed. She bit her lip, swallowing the pain. “I’ve had worse.”

  Chris shivered, but said nothing.

  For the next few minutes they sat in silence, listening to the growing crescendo of Sam’s snores. Finally, Ashley stood and moved across to his bed. Taking a hold of his blanket, she tore it away, exposing his half-naked body to the cold. His curses echoed from the walls as Ashley retreated to her bed, bringing Sam’s cover with her.

  Liz chuckled as Ashley spread the cover over them, trying to ignore the burning from her throat. “Thanks, I was getting cold,” she grinned at the other girl.

  “Hey!” Sam was sitting up now, blinking hard in the fluorescent light. Lifting his pillow, he tossed it across the room. Chris caught it easily and placed it behind his head.

  Liz smiled as a little of the weight lifted from her heart. Wriggling her backside, she snuggled in beneath the blanket, and basked in the warmth from either side of her. Together, they grinned as Sam found the shirt he’d discarded the night before and pulled it over his broad shoulders. Liz watched with a tinge of disappointment as he covered himself.

  “Hey, my eyes are up here, ladies,” Sam laughed.

  Liz snorted. “Like I’d be interested in a city slugger like you, Sam.”

  Ashley giggled and Chris chuckled while Sam rolled his eyes. Then the clang of the outer door echoed down the corridor, plunging the room into silence. The smiles fell from their faces as they shared sad glances, the weight of yesterday’s guilt returning.


  “What happens next?” Chris murmured.

  Sam’s eyes flickered towards Ashley. “After we… survived, you two showed up,” Sam replied with a shrug. “You know the rest.”

  Beside her, Ashley shifted on the bed. “Yesterday, on the training field, the doctors were talking,” the girl spoke in a low voice. “I overheard a bit. They were talking about things moving ahead. So who knows what comes next.”

  The bed shifted again as Chris pulled himself up. A pang of sadness touched Liz as his warmth left her side. He moved to the bars and glanced down the corridor. “Well, whatever comes next, at least breakfast is on its way,” his words were spoken with a false lightness, failing to hide the strain beneath, but Liz appreciated his attempt to brighten the gloomy discussion.

  Sam groaned. “Don’t suppose it’s something other than that gruel they call oatmeal?”

  “Sure, what’s your order? I’ll give them a shout.” Chris laughed.

  “I’ll take some eggs with a side of bacon. Maybe some hash browns. Oh, and a burger. You got all that?”

  “How about a television while you’re at it, Chris?” Ashley put in.

  Shaking his head, Chris returned to the bed and slid in beside Liz. “Ah, bacon. I can’t even remember the last time we had that at home.”

  As his warmth touched Liz she found herself sliding closer, until her side pressed up against him. A tingle ran up her arm at the touch, and she held her breath, waiting for him to pull away. When he did not move, she smiled, only then recalling his words. Her grin spread. While the food on the ranch had not technically been theirs to eat, her family had made an art of pilfering extra supplies whenever they were available. Bacon had been just one of the many luxury food items she’d enjoyed.

  “Oh, I don’t know, back on the farm we had bacon and eggs for breakfast most days. It gets a little old.”

  She chuckled as the three of them turned to stare at her. Unfortunately, the laughter was too much for her throat, and she broke into a coughing fit. It was a few minutes before she found her voice again.

  “Country secret,” she croaked at last, and the others groaned.

  The screeching wheels of the breakfast cart came to a sudden halt outside their cell. The guard banged his rifle against the bars while the other opened the grate through which they passed the food.

  “Come and get it.” The guard with the gun laughed. “Big day for you I hear.”

  Chris retrieved the four bowls of oatmeal, much to Sam’s chagrin, and they sat down to their meal.

  Afterwards the four of them sat back and waited, listening for the sound of the outer door. Closing her eyes, Liz did her best to ignore the agony that was her neck. Her good mood quickly fell away as the pain beat down on her. Silently, she cursed the doctors, the guards and their guns, even Joshua for his vicious attack.

  “What do you think he meant?” Sam asked after an hour, addressing the room at large.

  “Nothing good,” Chris offered unhelpfully.

  “Well, they need us alive for something,” Ashley put in. She had joined Sam on the other bed now, surrendering her bed to Liz and Chris. “Whatever this place is, its top secret. My parents weren’t the most connected of individuals in the government, but most things reached the rumour mill at some point. I don’t think this place was ever mentioned. As far as the media are concerned, the children of traitors were…” her voice trailed off, and Liz felt a pang of sadness for the girl.

  Without speaking, Sam reached up and placed an arm around Ashley, drawing her into a hug. Watching them, Liz’s sadness grew, rising from some lonely chasm inside her. The last two years had been long and hard, and more than once she had found herself craving the touch of another human being. Licking her lips, she glanced at Chris, then gave herself a silent shake. Drawing up her knees, she hugged them to her chest.

  Movement came from beside her, but it was just Chris rearranging himself on the bed. He spoke into the uncomfortable silence. “Maybe it’s the same with our families then. Maybe they’ve been taken someplace else,” there was no mistaking the tremor of hope in his voice.

  As the others nodded, Liz closed her eyes. The others might still cling to the hope their families were alive, but hers were gone.

  “Wouldn’t that be nice?” Sam replied with false cheer. “We can all have a reunion someday, share torture stories around the campfire–”

  “Shut up, Sam.” Ashley pushed him away and looked at Chris. “We can only hope, Chris. Although my sister…” she bowed her head, eyes shining. “She got in the way. They never gave her a chance.”

  Before any of them could respond, a loud clang echoed down the corridor.

  The four of them exchanged a long glance.

  “Showtime,” Sam whispered.

  CHAPTER 19

  The soft screech of iron rollers carried down the corridor as the door to a cell slid open. Together, the four of them jumped from their beds and pressed themselves up against the bars. Head hard against the cold steel, Liz peered out into the corridor, straining to see what was happening. The faces of their fellow inmates appeared behind the bars of the other cells, eyes wide and staring.

  At the very limits of her viewpoint, Liz could just make a group of doctors clustered around the cell at the end of the corridor, talking quietly amongst themselves. Beside them, guards were shouting at the occupants of the cell. They carried steel batons now, instead of the familiar rifles of the past few days.

  As Liz watched, the guards disappeared into the cell. The raised voices of the prisoners carried to them, followed by the muffled thud of steel on flesh.

  Retreating from the bars, Liz looked at the others. Sam and Chris stared back, their eyes wide, uncertainty written across their faces. Ashley only pursed her lips, her eyes roaming the cell.

  Liz turned back to the bars as a girl’s scream carried down the corridor. Looking along the rows of cells, she watched the doctors gathering around a steel trolley. One of the doctors was leaning over an open drawer on the side of the cart. Reaching inside, he drew out a packet of syringes. Vials of a clear liquid quickly followed, as he handed them out to the other doctors. Together, they turned and followed the guards into the cell. Another shriek echoed down the corridor, a boy’s this time.

  “What’s going on?” Chris asked from behind her.

  Liz glanced back at the others. “It’s some sort of injection. They’ve got syringes and a trolley loaded with God knows what else.”

  As she finished speaking, a long, drawn out screeched erupted from the cell at the end of the corridor. Liz flinched, pressing her face hard against the bars, straining to see. It was the girl again. Distantly she remembered the faces of the two captives: a young girl with blonde hair, a boy with black dreadlocks.

  The girl’s scream slowly died away, but before it ceased the boy’s voice joined in, carrying the awful notes of agony to the four of them in their little cell. Liz shuddered, fighting the urge to cover her ears. The shrieks rose and fell, twisting and cracking, almost inhuman in their anguish.

  Turning, she saw the blood draining from the other’s faces, felt her own cheeks grow cold with an awful fear.

  Slowly the screams died away, leaving only silence.

  And the screech of trolley wheels on concrete as the doctors made their way to the next cell.

  “What do we do?” Chris repeated his question from earlier.

  “We fight,” came Ashley’s reply.

  Liz turned and stared at the girl, heart thudding hard in her chest. “What?” from down the corridor came the rattle of another cell opening. “What about the collars–” she broke off as a cough tore at her throat.

  Staggering past the others, she fumbled at the sink and turned the faucet. As she drank, Ashley continued to speak.

  “Those batons, why do they need them?” her voice sounded calm, as though they were discussing the weather. “They haven’t used them before now.”

  “It’s like you said before,” Sam
mused. “They don’t want us dead. They’ve been saving us for something. For this.”

  “Really?” Chris snapped. He waved a hand. “Because I’m pretty sure they just killed those two.”

  “They’re not using the collars,” Liz croaked as she re-joined them. The realisation had come as she pressed her mouth to the faucet, making the collar dig into her neck. “No guns or collars.”

  Sam grinned and cracked his knuckles. “In that case, I agree with Ashley.”

  Liz leaned against the pole of her bunk bed, drawing reassurance from its icy touch. She looked at the others, fear fluttering in her stomach. Sam looked more alive than she’d ever seen him, his eyes alight with a frightening rage. Chris stood beside him, tense and ready, one eye on the door to the cell.

  And Ashley… just looked like Ashley – cool, calm, collected.

  She pushed past the boys as another scream rattled the walls. As they took up station near the door, she crouched between the beds, and lifted a piece of railing which lay wedged against the wall. Liz blinked, realising it was the safety railing for her bed, the one that had given way and sent her crashing to the concrete.

  Ashley moved across to Sam and offered him the bar. Teeth flashing, he took it and held it up to the light. The three parts of the rail formed a distorted U-shape, with two short piece of steel jutting from the longer centre piece.

  “Work at the joints, see if you can break them apart.”

  As Sam set to work trying to separate the bars, Ashley moved to the front of the cell and resumed her watch. Liz joined her, and together they followed the doctors slow progress through the prison.

  “They’re done with us,” Chris whispered behind them.

  Outside the screams continued, at times slowly fading, only to resume as the doctors reached the next cell.

  “No,” Ashley whispered. Her eyes took on a haunted look. “I think they’re only just getting started.”

  “Here.” Liz turned and Sam offered her one of the smaller bars. He grinned. “Just pretend they’re city sluggers like me.”

  Liz smiled back. Silently she reached out and squeezed his arm. He nodded and moved across to Ashley and Chris, offering them the other two bars. Ashley took one, but Chris shook his head. His eyes did not leave the corridor, but he spoke from the side of his mouth.