by Aaron Hodges
“Leave her alone,” he growled, sitting up in the bed.
On the other bed, Liz turned towards him, her eyes widening with shock. Behind her, Fallow’s face seemed to crumple, while a grin spread slowly across Halt’s face. In that instant, Chris felt a pit open in his stomach; a sudden realisation he had made a terrible mistake.
Still, it was worth it to see the relief sweep across Liz’s face.
“Excellent.” Halt clapped his hands. “Bring him too. It may even the odds.”
CHAPTER 21
Liz shivered as Fallow unlocked the cuffs around her wrists. Blinking, she stared at the woman’s face. Her features faded in and out of focus, and a bolt of nausea swept through her stomach. She wrapped a hand around the sidebar to steady herself and blinked again.
“Are you okay?” Liz flinched as a hand touched her shoulder.
“Don’t!” she growled, leaning back.
Closing her eyes, Liz willed her stomach to settle, then opened them again. To her relief, the features of Fallow’s face finally snapped into place. She blinked again, surprised to see the dark rings beneath the woman’s eyes, the patchwork of tiny cracks across the skin of her cheeks, the thin red capillaries threading her eyes. Her head swam; she had never noticed such detail in someone’s face before.
“I’m sorry.” Liz’s ears twitched at the sound, before a harsh shriek cut through the words.
She recoiled and slapped her hands over her ears. Distantly she heard the doctor’s voice over the ringing. A hand reached for her, but she twisted, falling sideways on the bed. Fallow paused, staring down at her, and then retreated a step.
Slowly the ringing died away, and Liz finally removed her hands from her ears.
“I’m sorry,” Fallow’s voice was a whisper now, but she heard it with perfect clarity, “How do you feel?”
Grating her teeth, Liz shook her head and looked across at Chris. As their eyes met her heart gave a lurch, and she felt again the relief that had swept through her when he’d sat up.
He’s alive!
Despite the apparent odds against them, somehow the two of them had survived whatever demented experiment the doctors had performed on them. Beside her, Fallow had busied herself removing the various tubes and wires that had been hooked up to the machine. Swallowing the surge of hate clogging her throat, Liz faced her.
“Why are you doing this?” Liz could not keep the resignation from her voice.
Fallow sighed, her eyes closing a moment before she looked at Liz. “You’ll find out soon enough, Elizabeth.”
Liz stared at the grief shining from Fallow’s eyes. Despite herself, Liz felt pity for the woman. Even so, the doctor’s words triggered a sense of foreboding within her, and she pressed on, desperate to exploit the woman’s weakness.
“You don’t have to do this,” she whispered. “Halt’s gone. You could let us go, unlock these collars.”
A faint smile twitched at Fallow’s lips. “A tempting proposition,” she shook her head. “They’d kill you both before you even reached the front door. Then they would come for me.” Her amber eyes locked on Liz. She stared back in silent appeal. But Fallow only smiled and continued on with false humour. “Besides, you are the culmination of my life’s work.”
“What about our lives?” Chris’s snarl came from behind Liz. “What right–”
He broke off as Fallow raised a hand. She shook her head again, her smile fading. “You know the law, Christopher. Your mother was found guilty of treason. In due time, she will answer for those crimes. As her son, you would have faced the same fate.”
Even to Liz, Fallow’s words sounded hollow, spoken like they left a bad taste in her mouth. Even so, after that the woman ignored their pleas. Moving across to Chris, she removed the cuffs and wires. Within a few minutes she had them on their feet and staggering around the room like senior citizens.
Liz’s legs trembled with each step, refusing to obey the simplest instructions. A dull ache was quickly spreading up her hamstrings, and several times she had to grab at neighbouring beds to steady herself. Chris was no better; managing to knock over a series of machines within two steps of leaving his bed, after which he promptly crashed to the linoleum floor.
From the corner of her eyes, Liz caught movement from several of the beds, but the doctor was too preoccupied with Chris to notice. Steadying herself, she took a moment to search the room for Ashley and Sam. But as the fluorescent light caught in her eyes she found their focus shifting again, and the room began to blur. By the time her vision cleared, Fallow was already shepherding them towards the doorway.
Outside, Liz’s legs finally began to obey, though they remained stiff and sore. Chris was steadily improving too, but he still needed her shoulder to keep moving down the narrow corridor. Two guards stood on either side of the door to the room, but they made no move to follow them. Fallow kept pace several feet behind them though, no doubt ready to use the collars should they place a foot out of line.
Step by faltering step, they made their way through the facility, obeying Fallow’s direction whenever they came to an intersection of corridors. After a few turns, Chris could walk unaided, though it was a while before he managed more than a slow stumble. Fortunately for him, the doctor did not seem to be in any hurry.
But despite their slow pace, the journey could not last forever, and far too little time had passed before they found themselves outside a familiar white door. Liz shivered as she recognised it, memories of her fight with Joshua spiralling through her mind.
She turned as Fallow spoke from behind them. “Go in.”
Wordlessly, Liz shook her head. Dread wrapped around her stomach as she reached out and took Chris’s hand. Together they faced the doctor, standing straight now, the strength slowly returning to their limbs.
“We won’t,” Liz drew herself up and stepped towards Fallow. “I won’t.”
Fallow retreated a step. She lifted her arm, the watch on her wrist flashing in warning. “Won’t what?” Fallow asked.
“I won’t fight her.” Chris coughed, stepping up beside Liz. “I’d rather die.”
Fallow’s shoulders slumped and she gave a little shake of her head. “That’s not… no,” she gestured with a hand. “Just go.”
Liz and Chris shared a glance, still hesitating. Despite Fallow’s strange reassurance, fear gnawed at Liz’s stomach; a dread she could not shake. The last time she had entered this room, an innocent boy had lost his life. And she had almost lost her own. Her hand drifted to her throat, but there was no pain now, only the cold reminder of the collar nestled beneath her chin.
How long were we asleep?
“Don’t make me use the collars.” Fallow lifted her finger to her watch.
They went.
As the door clicked shut behind her, Liz found herself standing again in the padded room, blinking in the brilliant light. An awful smell wafted through the air, a sickly sweet that caught in her throat. As her vision cleared, and the room came into focus, she realised with a sharp breath they were not alone.
A boy stood in the centre of the room. He wore the same plain orange jumpsuit they had sported in the cells, though she had never seen him there. His head was bowed, and his breath came in ragged gasps, his shoulders trembling with each violent exhalation. He held his hands clenched at his side, and though his eyes were open, he did not seem to have noticed them. Black hair dangled in front of his face, obscuring the rest of his features.
Liz edged towards him, her heart beating hard in her chest. Behind her, Chris gasped, and she felt his hand on her shoulder. But she twisted free, her panic rising. Gripped by a desperate need to see, to know for sure, she slid closer.
Leaning down, she peered into the boy’s eyes.
Hard grey eyes stared back, their surface glazed with sleep, unseeing.
But as she stared, they blinked, the life behind them stirring.
And Liz screamed.
CHAPTER 22
Chris recognise
d it the instant they stepped into the room. Though outwardly it looked no different than any other boy, a strangeness hung about his hunched figure. The stench of him was strong in the room, a sickly sweetness that clung to the air.
He didn’t need to see the grey eyes to know what it was.
Chead.
He had tried to stop Liz as she stepped towards it, but she only shook herself free and crept closer. Clenching his fists, he tested his strength, feeling it quickly returning. Silently, he watched as Liz bent to peer into the boy’s face.
Then she was staggering backwards, her screams reverberating around the room. The Chead’s features contorted, the ripple of awakening sweeping across its face, and then Chris was retreating too, fumbling at the door, shouting for help, knowing it would not come.
Beside him, Liz screamed again and staggered sideways. His hand flashed out, catching her by her scrubs, dragging her back to him as she began to thrash. Her panic swept over him, waking him from his stupor, and he shoved her behind him.
When he looked up, he caught the iron-grey eyes of the Chead staring at him. A smile spread across its face, and sent pure terror screaming through every fibre of his being. Another shriek came from behind him as Liz pounded on the padded door.
Taking a breath, Chris took a step towards the Chead, an eerie calm coming over him. He placed himself squarely between Liz and the creature, ignoring the urge to turn and shake her, to pull the girl back from the depths of her terror. But her words were still fresh in his mind, and he heard again the agony in her voice as she told him of her parents’ death.
He could not blame her for panicking.
Staring into the eyes of the Chead¸ Chris searched for a sign of life, for a hint of the human it had once been.
In the centre of the room, the Chead raised an eyebrow. “Welcome,” the word sounded strange, almost metallic, as though speech did not come easily to it.
For a second all Chris could do was stand and gape. He blinked, moving his mouth, struggling to find the words. “Wha– what?” he finally managed.
Grey eyes flickered from Chris to Liz. Then with deliberate slowness, the Chead turned and began to pace. It walked towards the mirror first, pausing as the boy’s image rose up before it, a snarl twisting its lips. Then is spun, moving back past Chris and Liz until it reached the far wall, where it turned to make another pass. Metal shone around its neck, and for the first time Chris realised it wore a collar around its neck.
“What. Am. I?” The creature ground out the words. It paused and looked straight at Chris. “You already know that…”
Chris did not reply. His mind was still reeling, struggling to comprehend one irresolvable fact: it spoke. The Chead could speak – not just that, it could understand him. No newspaper, no television channel had ever mentioned a Chead speaking, never mind being self-aware. As far as the public were concerned, the Chead were monsters – uncontrollable, terrible, killing machines.
They did not think.
They did not speak.
“How?” Chris croaked.
By the door, he could sense Liz slowly regaining her composure. The thuds on the door had ceased, her screams dying to soft gasps. Movement came from beside him and on trembling legs Liz re-joined him. Out of the corner of his eye he watched a shiver run through her and reached out an arm. Their hands touched, their fingers entwining. He gave her hand a quick squeeze and turned back to the Chead.
It had stopped its pacing and stood again in the centre of the room, its grey eyes watching them. Its nostrils flared as it inhaled.
“You… smell different,” it grated, then. “How do I speak?” it finished Chris’s question.
Chris nodded his confirmation.
A smile spread across the Chead’s face. “I learnt,” it nodded, its head leaning to the side. “I remembered…”
A tremor ran through Liz’s hand, but when he looked at the girl her eyes remained fixed straight ahead, her lips pressed tight together.
The Chead’s head twisted strangely again, as though in curiosity. “You are different,” it said again, its smile spreading, though there was no humour in the grey eyes. “Like me.”
Chris’s stomach clenched at its words.
What does it mean?
“What did you mean, you remembered?” Liz interrupted his thoughts.
The Chead’s eyes flickered in her direction. “I remembered. Who I was… Before…” the boy shrugged.
Liz’s fingers tightened around Chris’s hand. He waited for her to speak, but she had fallen silent again.
“What do you mean? That we’re like you?” Chris croaked.
An awful laughter crackled up from the thing’s throat. “They succeeded, these jailers of ours,” the boy’s face twisted horribly, until it seemed some demon now possessed the boy. Speech seemed to come easier to it now. “But I wonder, is it enough?”
It stepped towards them then, the grin fading.
As one, Chris and Liz retreated across the padded floor, until their backs pressed against the door.
Chris raised his hands in surrender. “Please, wait, you don’t have to do this.”
The Chead paused, the hard glint in its eyes wavering. Then it shook its head. “But I do. It is my nature, isn’t it?” It took another step, its eyes flickering to the one-way glass. “Besides, it’s what they want.”
Snarling, the Chead leapt towards them.
Without pausing to think, Chris pushed Liz away from him and stepped up to meet the creature’s charge. From the corner of his eye he saw Liz stagger sideways, then the Chead was on him, its fist flashing for his chest. Acting on instinct, he threw up an arm, and the blow glanced from his forearm.
Chris gasped as pain jolted through his arm. Then the weight of the creature crashed into him, flinging him back into the wall. Before he could recover, the Chead had him by the shoulders. His stomach twisted as the long arms lifted him. Panic took him, and he kicked out with a foot, sending a desperate blow into the boy’s head.
To his surprise, the Chead reeled back from the blow. A savage growl came from its throat as it tossed him aside. Chris bent his head and braced as the ground raced towards him. With a thud he struck, then he was rolling forward, spinning to come to his feet in one fluid movement. Straightening, he turned to face the Chead.
The creature stared back, the grey eyes watching him like a predator stalking its prey. Slowly it lifted an arm and wiped a trickle of blood from its lip.
His gaze flickered as he caught sight of Liz. She moved to join him, eyes flashing. “Don’t do that again,” she growled.
Nodding, Chris turned his attention back to the Chead. It seemed hesitant now. Chris was glad for its caution. On the television, he had watched Chead tear policemen apart, seen throats torn out and skulls shattered by a single blow. Tasers did little to slow them, and bullets only seemed to anger them unless they struck something vital.
Unarmed and trapped in the tiny room, Chris did not like their odds.
Yet somehow his blow had rattled it.
Pushing down his fear, Chris edged away from Liz. Whatever their chances, they had to try. Between them, they at least outnumbered the Chead two to one. They had to make the most of that advantage.
The Chead snarled as he moved, its head turning to follow him. From the corner of his eyes, Chris watched Liz slide sideways in the opposite direction. The Chead ignored her though, clearly seeing Chris as the greater threat.
Chris just hoped Liz had the strength to prove it wrong.
The Chead’s grin returned as Chris came to a stop. A low rumble quivered in its chest. It stepped towards him, legs tensing to spring. In reply, Chris raised his fists. He slid one leg back and twisted sideways, placing himself in a defensive stance. Flashing a smile he did not feel, he gestured the creature forward.
His impudence ignited a flash of anger in the Chead’s eyes. Adrenaline pounded in Chris’s veins as it stepped in close, washing away his fear. He reacted without thought,
years of training taking over. One hand swept up to deflect the blow sweeping for his face. His arm shook as the force of the blow sent him reeling, but stepping back he kept his balance, his eyes already watching for the next attack.
Another fist flashed towards him and he ducked. As he moved, his surprise grew. He had seen a blow from a Chead shatter a man’s arm with a single blow. By all rights, his arm should have been crushed. Yet somehow he was holding his own.
The Chead had realised this too, and snarling it hurled itself at Chris with renewed fury. A fist flashed beneath his guard and smashed into his stomach. The breath hissed between Chris’s teeth as his lungs emptied. He squeezed a half-choked groan from his chest as the Chead stepped in close.
Then with a shriek, Liz leapt into the fray. Bent in two and gasping, Chris caught a glimpse of her tangled hair and flashing blue eyes as she drove her foot down into the back of the Chead’s knee.
Screaming, it collapsed beneath the blow.
CHAPTER 23
The second Liz saw the stony grey eyes of the Chead, the memories had come flooding back. For a second she had found herself back in her parent’s house, in the home she had been raised in. Once it had been a safe place, a sanctuary amidst the harsh world outside.
Now though, in her memories a perpetual shadow hung over its wooden hallways, sucking out the light, the life it had once born.
In her mind, she saw again the rubble-strewn corridor, the broken floor boards and pooling blood. She saw herself turn the corner, saw the body lying in the corridor, strangely whole, where those outside had lain in pieces.
And her mother, standing over the body, her grey eyes staring.
With a scream, Liz tore herself from the memory, returning herself to the present, to the room and Chris.
And the Chead.
Still reeling, caught in the clutches of remembered horror, she had barely heard the conversation between Chris and the Chead, the revelations it offered. She already knew the truth, that some semblance of their former lives clung to the creatures.
