The Praegressus Project: Part One

by Aaron Hodges

  Then a click came from the door, and they pulled quickly apart, turning to see who had entered.

  A dark smile twisted Halt’s lips as he walked across the room. He ignored them as he drew up on the other side of Ashely’s bed. Standing for a moment, he studied the host of machines connected to Ashley, nodding slowly to himself.

  “It looks like she will recover,” he said at last, “With the proper care, of course.”

  “What do you want, Halt?” Ashley croaked.

  “From you, my dear?” his eyes flickered towards her. “Nothing. At least, not until you have recovered. For now, it is Samuel we need.”

  Looking into Halt’s eyes, Sam felt the agony of his tortured body come rushing back. The awful helplessness he’d felt for the past days returned. Ashley’s fingers tightened around his hand, and there was a glimmer of fear in her eyes now.

  “Thanks to the unfortunate actions of Doctor Fallow, we now find ourselves short of candidates who survived the change,” Halt continued. “The PERV-A viral strain your group received has proven far less… lethal than alternative strains,” he pursed his lips, “Of those who received the PERV-B strain, only two remain intact.”

  Sam clenched a fist around the sidebar of Ashley’s bed. “How many have you killed Halt?”

  Ignoring the question, Halt lowered himself into the chair on the opposite side of the bed and looked across at them. “Due to our shortage of viable candidates, I have decided to forgive your past… transgressions,” his lips twisted into a scowl. “We cannot afford to terminate successful candidates, however vexing their actions.”

  Taking a long, shuddering breath, Sam stared down at Halt, silently cursing the man’s cruelty. Now they could not afford to terminate candidates? For long weeks and months, he had watched children marched from the prison block, never to return. He had stood in a padded room, and been forced to choose his own life over his friend’s. Closing his eyes, Sam saw Jake’s face staring up at him, his eyes pleading.

  The breath caught in his throat and he quickly pushed away the memory. “What do you want, Halt?” he echoed Ashley’s earlier question. He summoned as much defiance as he could muster, but even to his own ears, the words lacked conviction.

  “If we are to convince the President and his Directors to continue funding for the Praegressus Project, we must give them results. Every successful candidate we present to the public, is a greater demonstration of the project’s viability.”

  Shivering, Sam thought back to the prisoner block, to the lines of staring faces. All gone now, all dead but for the seven of them, and the two unnamed candidates who had survived the other strain of the virus. His stomach twisted at the horror, at the spectre of death that hung over their lives, the weight of the loss.

  And now Halt wanted Sam to help him continue his monstrous project.

  “No,” Sam gritted his teeth, “I’d rather die.”

  Halt let out a long breath and shook his head. He turned to look at Ashley, his smile fading. “Such a disappointment.” The words were barely a whisper, but they sent a rush of fear through Sam.

  Before either of them could react, Halt’s hand flashed out and caught Ashley by the wrist.

  Sam began to rise from the bed, his lips curling back in a snarl. He clenched his fists, ready to put an end to the monstrous doctor once and for all. Even in his weakened state, he was sure he could snap the man’s neck before the guards arrived to stop him.

  “Stop,” Halt’s command echoed around the room, freezing Sam in place. He nodded to the watch on his wrist, reminding Sam of the collar around his neck. “That’s quite far enough. Sit down, Samuel.”

  Looking into Halt’s eyes, Sam knew he was beaten. Slowly, he lowered himself back into place on Ashley’s bed.

  Halt nodded and turned back to Ashley. A cold smile lit his face as he raised Ashley’s hand. Her forehead wrinkled with pain at the movement.

  “She is still quite weak, Samuel,” Halt whispered. “With the drugs and antibiotics running through her system, any ordinary human would be in a coma. As it is, they have rendered her no stronger than a child.”

  At that, Halt grasped Ashley’s hand and with deliberate slowness, started to bend back one of her fingers. A low groan came from Ashely as she tried to pull away, but the handcuffs held her in place. His anger rising, Sam shifted, but Halt lifted his arm, flashing the controller on his wrist.

  “Fallow’s commands have been overridden. So unless you both want an unpleasant shock, I suggest you sit, Samuel. I doubt her body is strong enough to survive the collar’s touch.”

  Clenching his fists, a terrible fear rose within Sam. Ashley lay in the bed, her eyes shining with tears, her jaw locked in pain. Halt still held her finger, bending it backwards to the limits of ordinary movement. Glancing at Ashley, Sam saw the fear on her face, but as their eyes met, she slowly shook her head.

  Closing his eyes, Sam let out a long, rattling breath and settled back on the bed.

  “Very good,” Halt whispered. “But it is too little, too late. You are a slow learner, Samuel, and so another lesson must be given.”

  Sam’s eyes snapped open as he heard something go crack. Beside him, Ashley threw back her head and screamed. She thrashed in the bed, her movements weak and restrained by the handcuffs, her face contorted in agony. Her feet kicked out, as though fighting off some unseen enemy. Sam reached for her, but her cuffed hands threw him back as she screamed again.

  On the other side of the bed, Halt still held Ashley’s hand in an iron grasp. Sam’s eyes trailed down her arm, to where one finger was now bent backwards at an awful angle.

  “You bast–”

  Without taking his eyes from Sam, Halt jerked his hand. Another crack echoed through the room. Ashley shrieked, her free hand clawing at the metal bar, powerless to escape. Her screams died away and her eyes started to roll back in her skull. Before she could lose consciousness, Halt tugged at her broken finger, and the focus returned to her eyes. A low whimper came from her throat as her desperate eyes found Sam, begging him to save her.

  “Move an inch, Samuel, and I’ll break another one,” Halt growled.

  Ashley lay taught as a wire, her hair a tangled mess around her face, her good hand clenched tight around Sam’s wrist now.

  “Please,” Sam whispered, biting back tears. This was worse than the cells, worse than the collars, worse than his silent beatings in the white-washed room. “Please, stop. I’ll do whatever you want.”

  The smile on Halt’s face spread. “Very good, Samuel,” he whispered. “I always had faith you would come through for us.” Looking down at Ashley, he released her hand.

  Tears streaked Ashley’s face as she bit back a sob. Sam’s heart warmed at the defiance in her eyes, but they both knew there was no resisting this man. He had proven time and again his cruelty knew no bounds, that no one was beyond his power.

  “Tomorrow, we will be moving you both to our complex in San Francisco,” Halt continued. “You, Samuel, will join the survivors of the A strain. They are still uncomfortable in their abilities. You will show them what they are capable of. Then, in a week, the three of you will be presented to the public. You will become the new face of the government’s fight against the Chead. You will be the shining light the public will look to for hope. Do you understand?”

  Sam nodded, not trusting his voice to speak.

  “Good,” Halt’s gaze flickered to Ashley. “So long as you cooperate, Ashley will receive the best of treatment. And one day soon, I hope she will join you. For now though, her wellbeing is in your hands, Samuel. Fail us, and I will make you watch as I break every bone in her little body.”

  At that, Halt reached down and caught another of Ashley’s fingers. With a hard jerk of his wrist, he twisted it back, shattering the bone in one swift, violent jerk.

  CHAPTER 10

  Closing her eyes, Liz listened to the silence of the house around her. Darkness stretched through the empty rooms, the night hiding the
walls and ceilings she knew so well. Beneath the reek of mildew and dust, the familiar smells of home remained. Gone were the voices, the life she had once lived, but the shell still endured, and with it, the memories.

  Somewhere outside, a cricket chirped, and she could hear the soft breathing of the others as they slept nearby. Richard and Jasmine lay on opposite sides of the lounge. Jasmine had not spoken since the clearing, but she and the young girl seemed to have bonded. The enigmatic thirteen-year-old lay curled up next to Jasmine, her eyelids flickering gently with some dream. Chris was somewhere outside, keeping watch while the others rested. They were taking no chances now, not after what had happened the night before.

  They had spent the day huddled inside the house, listening for the tell-tale buzz of the chopper, praying its search would not reach their lonely mountain. The shadow of the valley and wooden walls would not shield them from a persistent search, but at least they were hidden from casual observers. The dark contraption would have to come close to find them, and they would hear its approach long before then.

  In the long hours, they had explored the house. Liz had helped retrieve what remained of her parents’ clothing. Most was motheaten and covered in mildew, but it was still far better than what remained of the rags they’d escaped in. There were also several pairs of shoes, and heavy jackets they could wear to cover their wings.

  When the shadows of nightfall fell across the plains beyond the mountain, the group had finally allowed themselves to relax. Richard had ventured out into the trees around the ranch, returning an hour later with a turkey, its neck broken and dangling from a bloody hand. In the meantime, Liz and the others had gorged themselves on oranges and half-green apples hanging from the trees around the ranch.

  It was dark by then, and Richard had set about lighting a fire in the long dead woodstove. He had been silent since the incident in the forest, and Liz could sense the weight hanging on his shoulders. Whether it was the remembered terror of his capture, or the guilt at having fallen asleep while on watch, Liz could not tell. But she could do nothing to help him – the burden of her own memories hung over her now, rising up from a past she had thought long buried.

  She had thanked him for the meat though. The turkey had been old and tough, probably one of the birds her father had once kept, but to her half-starved stomach it had seemed a banquet. Her hunger satisfied, her strength had quickly started to return.

  Now, in the darkness of night, she finally felt strong enough to face her past. Memories of her parents drifted through her mind – of them sitting around the woodstove that stood in the centre of the kitchen, the taste of her mother’s rabbit stew, of the long days manning the fields surrounding their solitary mountain peak.

  Her parents and the other workers had tended to the flocks of sheep and cattle grazing on the prairies around the mountain, often spending cold nights sleeping in the fields when work took them to the furthest pastures. Though little of the profits went to her family, it was an honest living, and they had been happy here.

  But now the ranch had been abandoned, the land left untended, the buildings allowed to succumb to nature’s encroachment. She wasn’t surprised. It would have been hard to convince the bravest of workers to return here after what had happened.

  Letting out a long breath, Liz climbed to her feet. She felt a desperate need for company, to escape the lonely whispers of this place. Her cheeks flushed as she recalled the night before, of Chris’s hands around her, his lips on her neck, his flesh pressed hard against hers. A shiver went through her as she moved through the darkness. Following the old, familiar hallways, she made her way outside.

  It took a long time to find him. Only when a stray root tripped her and sent her sprawling to the ground, did she hear a soft call from overhead. Looking up, she realised he was sitting on the tin roof. He smiled down, and waved for her to join him.

  Without a decent runup, flight was out of the question. But taking a hold of the steel drainage pipe, Liz quickly pulled herself up the way she had done so many times before. She strode across the roof, careful to follow the rows of nails that marked the support beam, and lowered herself down next to Chris.

  “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked. His arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her close.

  Liz nodded and looked out into the darkness. The clouds had gathered late in the afternoon, and now the sky was solid black, the moon and stars hidden away. Even so, her eyes could still make out the distant fields, still saw the tell-tale movement of the grass as the wind blew across the plain. The branches of the trees rustled around them as the breeze raised goosebumps across her skin. Shivering, she wriggled in closer to Chris, hoping to steal some of his warmth.

  He smiled, and his wings lifted, stretching out to enfold them both in his auburn feathers. Liz settled in beneath his arm, basking in the heat of his body. They were silent for a while then, content to share the quiet beauty of the night, and the comfort of each other’s presence.

  “What happened here, Liz?” Chris whispered at last. “Where did everyone go?”

  Liz shuddered, and Chris tightened his grip around her, his fingers giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. She took a long time to gather her thoughts, to face the darkness of the past, but Chris waited patiently, his mouth shut, silent.

  “They’re dead,” she said finally.

  Chris nodded. “The Chead?”

  Letting out a breath, Liz recounted her story. “It seems so long ago now. I had just gotten back for the summer, had caught the bus all the way from San Francisco. My parents lived here with the farmhands that helped them out in the fields. They managed the land all around this rock.”

  Beside her, Chris stared out into the darkness. “Your family owned it all?”

  Liz snorted. “Of course not. Before the American War, it was Flores land. But after…” she shrugged. “Like most rural families, my grandfather fell into debt after the war. He was forced to sell off his holdings to settle his obligations. We were lucky the landholder was happy for our family to stay on as managers.”

  She waited for Chris to comment, but he said nothing. Nodding, she turned her thoughts back to the night everything had changed. “I got in late that day. It was almost dark, but I was excited to see my parents and friends. The workers were practically family. I was daydreaming as I walked up. At first, I didn’t notice the silence...”

  Chris’s arms tightened around her. She looked up to find his hazel eyes watching her, soft in the darkness. Biting her lip, Liz summoned her courage and continued. “The farmhands were scattered around the courtyard – some whole, others in pieces. But there was no sign of my parents.”

  She broke off again as tears brimmed in her eyes. Angrily, she wiped them away. Her fists clenched, but she forced them to relax, to breathe. “I didn’t think. I ran into the house, screaming their names. Inside, everything was torn and broken. At the end of the corridor I could see blood on the floor. It was only then that I stopped, that reason caught up to me. But by then it was too late. I couldn’t stop myself, I had to see, had to know,” she broke off, a sob tearing from her chest.

  Strong arms held her close as she struggled to control her grief.

  “Your parents?” Chris whispered.

  Liz shuddered again, and slowly shook her head. She bit her lip, determined to continue, to speak the words she had never dared voice aloud. “My father,” she croaked. “He lay in the hallway, his blood….” she shook her head, “But my mum… my mum stood over him, her head down, her shoulders shaking. And her eyes… her eyes were grey, Chris,” she choked on the last words.

  Burying her head in Chris’s shoulder, she waited for him to reply, unsure how he would respond. But he said nothing, only held her tight. When she finally looked up, there were tears in his eyes. Leaning down, he kissed her gently on the forehead.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  They said nothing for a long time then, just sat together, staring out into the darkness. The wind beg
an to pick up strength, shaking the branches of the trees hanging over the roof. Liz shivered, pulling her own wings closer to her back as she nestled in next to Chris. Her head lay on his chest, and she could hear the steady thud of his heart beneath her. Reaching out a hand, she entwined her fingers with his.

  “What happened next, Liz?”

  She sucked in a breath, her thoughts drifting back, remembering the cold grey eyes staring from her mother’s face. There had been nothing left of her crystal blue gaze, of the gentle kindness she offered to all she met. But as they’d found Liz, there had been a flicker of recognition, of something other than animalistic hunger.

  “She left,” Liz whispered. “I never understood why. I stood in that corridor for a full minute, too scared to move a muscle. But she just stood there, staring. Then, she seemed to come alive. She walked past me like I wasn’t even there. I never saw her again.”

  She didn’t add that it had been three days before anyone showed up, when the landowner finally reported a shipment of goods from the farm as missing. Those three days were little more than a haze for Liz. Her mind had receded, and succumbing to shock she had crumpled to the hallway floor. Hours later some form of awareness had returned, and she had found herself covered in blood. Finding her father’s dead eyes watching her, she had screamed and fled into the forest.

  After that, she could remember only flashes – of her standing in a shower, the blood streaming down the drain. Then standing over a shallow grave, her father lying amidst the dirt. The taste of vomit in her mouth, and the reek of death.

  It wasn’t until the police arrived that some form of sanity had finally returned. She had told them what had happened, watched as the SWAT team entered the forest, listened to their brief reassurances. But later, as she sat shivering in the back of a wagon, she had heard the policemen talking. They did not believe her story, that the Chead had spared her.

  As they began to discuss where to take her, Liz’s senses had come crashing back. With them came memories of the warnings, of the disappearances. She had slipped silently away into the woods then, and never looked back.