The Praegressus Project: Part One

by Aaron Hodges

  He shook his head. “That’s not possible.”

  The old Chead stepped towards him, his grey eyes glistening. “And why is that, my child?”

  Richard approached, his fists clenched. “Because no one knows where the Chead came from,” he said.

  The ancient eyes turned to the taller boy. “A lie. We were created here, within these very walls, at the glorious heart of the Western Allied States.”

  There was bitterness in the Chead’s words as he turned away. Artemis made his slow way across the room, his movements weary, and lowered himself onto the bed. The grey eyes looked at them again, passing over each of them in turn.

  “Who are you, Artemis?” Chris whispered.

  The ancient eyes found his. “Once I was Dean Chester of Salt Lake City, Utah, born to Mary and John Chester, immigrants to the United States from South Africa. Once I was like you, young and filled with innocence. As a child, I watched my proud nation elect a half-mad oligarch to President, and witnessed first-hand the disintegration of the nation I had come to call home. And before my eighteenth birthday, I watched the forces of the Western Allied States gun down my family, and take the children of Salt Lake City as prisoners of war.”

  Silence fell across the room as they stared at the old man. Chris swallowed, his mind spinning as he struggled to grasp the implications of the creature’s words. He frowned as he realised the dates did not add up. The American War had ended in 2030, twenty years ago, but the Chead looked at least eighty years old.

  Before he could question him, Artemis continued. “We were brought back to San Francisco, to this very building. It was then we learned how desperate the Western Allied States were becoming. Though they had the backing of Canada and Mexico, they remained outmatched by the forces of the United States. They were desperate for something, anything to change the course of the war,” he paused and took a heavy breath. “They were working on a virus, one that would turn their troops into unstoppable killing machines, that would allow a soldier to run for days on end, to tear ordinary men to pieces, and shrug off bullet wounds like scratches.”

  “No,” Liz whispered, shrinking back from the old man. “No, the Chead… my people, we have suffered for decades. The government, they couldn’t, they wouldn’t…” her words trailed off as tears shone in her eyes.

  Chris started towards her, his own heart twisting with the horror of the Chead’s words. Then he froze, the remembered pain giving him pause. Her fingers had touched him like fire, sending burning waves rippling through his body, setting his every nerve ending aflame. He had lost himself in the agony, though it had only been the briefest of touches.

  Artemis stepped up in Chris’s place, his voice soft. “My child,” opening his arms, he drew Liz into his embrace.

  “How?” Chris croaked, seeing his hands gripping the bare skin of Liz’s arms.

  “As I said, some of us have developed a resistance,” Artemis replied softly.

  Beside Chris, Richard cast a nervous glance at the door. “Chris, we need to get out of here.”

  Chris could sense his agitation, but he shook his head. Everything the old Chead said, every fresh revelation, only raised more questions. Questions that demanded answers. “What happened to the other children?”

  Artemis closed his eyes. “For years, we suffered here. There were hundreds, maybe thousands of us at first. But we were nothing to them. Uneducated country hicks that had no place in their world. Children and teenagers, boys and girls, they all died horribly, their bodies warped by terrible mutations. For the longest time, all I could hear when I closed my eyes were their screams.”

  “When my turn finally came, I fought them, and when that failed, pleaded for them to just kill me. Death would have been preferable to the things I had witnessed. But there was no resisting them, no escape, and I received my injection, just as all the others had before me.”

  “But you survived,” Chris breathed.

  The old Chead nodded. “Ay, I survived. By then they knew they were close to a viable solution. Even then, I thought I was lost. All I remember from that time is the pain, the awful fever that gripped my body. Then there was just red, only a burning rage that consumed everything I was, everything I had ever been. There was only the Chead.”

  Chris shuddered, his eyes flickering to Liz and back. “But it did not last?” he asked. “You remembered yourself, who you were?”

  “Yes,” Artemis grimaced. “I don’t know how long I was lost, but eventually I began to find my way back through the rage, to resurface. It was then they realised they had succeeded, had turned me into their perfect weapon. Only, my mind had returned too late – they had won the war by other means.”

  “Washington, DC,” Chris said, remembering pictures of the smouldering ruin. The surprise detonation of a ground based nuclear warhead had decimated the leadership of the United States, as well as millions of civilians. In the ensuing chaos, the forces of the Western Allied States had gained the foothold they had needed, and shattered the backbone of the USA.

  “So why did they do this to us?” Liz shrieked as she pushed herself away from the old Chead. “Why would they unleash those monsters on their own people? The war was won!”

  “Fear,” Artemis replied.

  “Fear?” Jasmine questioned, speaking for the first time. “What do you mean, fear?”

  “After the war, it was only a matter of time before people started questioning the government. Especially your rural communities, whose youth had been conscripted and their wealth decimated by taxation. The government needed a new enemy to fight, a demon for the populace to hate.”

  “So they created one,” Richard growled, his arms crossed, fingers clenched around his arms.

  “So it would seem,” Artemis replied. “The Chead gave them the excuse they needed to alter laws, to send the army into unruly communities, to impose curfews and hunt out foreign ‘traitors’. They gave your people a monster to fear, while your leaders quietly stole your freedom.”

  As Artemis fell silent, Chris asked the question that had plagued him since he’d watched Liz’s eyes turn grey. “But none of this explains why Liz changed, why you think we’re your children. We were created by the government, but we’re not Chead. A doctor named Angela Fallow created the virus that changed us.”

  A dry, rasping laugh came from the old Chead. “No, my child. I have seen many variations of the Chead over the years. I have heard those here speak of your Fallow, of the young doctor they thought might finally perfect their virus. By then, the Directors had restricted knowledge of our origin to a select few. But that did not prevent them manipulating young minds into continuing their work,” he bent his head and smiled. “The wings are new, but at our core, we remain the same.”

  “What were they trying to perfect?” Chris pressed, as Richard shifted nervously alongside him.

  Artemis spread his arms, gesturing to his wrinkled skin. “Surely you have noticed, my child, that I do not look well for a forty year old. That, and our habit of losing control and tearing innocent bystanders apart.”

  “Chris,” Richard hissed through clenched teeth. “That’s enough. There’ll be time for questions later. We need to get out of here.”

  Jasmine nodded her agreement and Chris swallowed his next question. He turned back to Artemis. “Let’s go, we’re getting you out of here.”

  Artemis smiled. “But what about your friend? You can’t leave her behind.”

  Turning, he nodded at the far corner of the room, where plastic green curtains had been drawn around one of the beds. Chris frowned, glancing back at Artemis a second, unsure of the man’s meaning. Then, stomach clenched, breath held, he moved across the room. Hands trembling, he reached up, and pulled the curtains open.

  CHAPTER 32

  The breath caught in Liz’s throat as she stared at the bed Chris had just revealed. Time seemed to slow, and all noise fell away. She took a trembling step towards the bed, then another, past Chris as he stared in disbeli
ef, beyond the curtains, to where her friend waited.

  Ashley lay on her side, her eyes closed, red hair spread across the white pillow, her white wings hanging half-folded behind her. Her shoulders rose and fell with each gentle breath as she murmured softly in her sleep. Her skin was ghostly pale, the last traces of purple bruises still marking her arms and face. A steel collar shone around her throat, and an IV bag hung from the wall beside her bed, a thin tube stretching out to deliver the contents through a stent in her arm.

  “Ashley,” she whispered.

  Taking care not to touch skin, Liz reached out and placed a hand on Ashley’s shoulder. She shook her gently, and watched as the girl’s eyes flickered. She caught a glimpse of her tawny yellow eyes, before they drifted close again.

  She looked back as Artemis spoke. “They have her drugged.”

  Growling, Liz gently pulled the tube from Ashley’s arm. She looked down at the girl, unable to believe her eyes, to trust Ashley was really here. Last she’d seen her, Ashley had been a broken mess, her chest torn open by the bullet, her wings shattered by the fall. Yet here she was, still sporting a bandage around her chest, but whole, alive.

  Liz shook her head, counting the days. Had it been a week, or two since their escape? Somewhere in the chaos she had lost track, but however long it had been, this should not have been possible.

  “Guys, save the reunion for later, we need to get out now,” Richard spoke from behind them.

  “She’s still unconscious,” Chris replied. “And what about the collar?”

  “Try the keys,” Richard hissed, insistent now. “And we can carry her. But it’s been too long. Sooner or later, someone is going to stumble onto those bodies and sound the alarm.”

  Beside her, Chris came alive. He nodded and produced a set of keys from his pocket. He started to flick through the ring, searching for a key that might match, glancing at Artemis as he worked. “We can bring them all down with your story, Artemis. Once people find out the truth, it’s only a matter of time before the whole government crumbles. Will you come with us?”

  Artemis smiled. “My child, I have spent twenty years locked in this prison. My body is failing me, and I have been confined to this infirmary for months. But I would like to take my final breaths in fresh air. Of course, I will come.”

  Chris grinned as the collar around Ashley’s neck clicked open with the third key he tried. Then the smile fell from his lips. “What about Sam?” he looked at Artemis again. “What about our other friend?”

  “I have scented others here, since she arrived. But I have never seen them,” Artemis replied. As he spoke he lifted his head, his nostrils flaring. “And they are not within the building now.”

  Liz swore, her heart sinking. What would Halt do to Sam, when he discovered Ashley gone? But they could not leave her here, to suffer whatever torments Halt had in store.

  The smile had fallen from Chris’s lips, but he shifted into action at another prompting from Richard. Reaching down, he slid his hands under Ashley’s back and gently lifted her into his arms. He staggered forward a step, struggling with her weight.

  “Chris, your arm!” Liz hissed, stepping towards him.

  “I’m fine,” Chris grated through clenched teeth, his face pained. “It’s okay, I can do it. It’ll be slow, but I don’t want to hurt her anyway.”

  “Don’t be stupid, Chris,” Richard stepped towards him. “Let me take her.”

  Chris shook his head. “No, she’s our friend, I’ll take her. You should go ahead with Artemis. We need to get him to safety. Once he talks, its all over. This place, the Praegressus Project, everything.”

  Richard hesitated, glancing at Jasmine before facing them again. “She’s our friend too, Chris. I won’t leave her, not again,” he drew himself up. “We’re in this together, all of us.”

  Chris smiled. “I know. But he needs to be our priority. If you can get him clear, nothing else will matter. Do you know a way out, Artemis?”

  The old Chead nodded and Chris smiled. “Good, tell me.”

  After Artemis had repeated the directions they needed to reach the exit elevators twice, Chris finally nodded. “Okay, I’ve got it. You guys had better get out of here then,” he paused, his eyes wavering. “If anything goes wrong, meet us at Daniella’s apartment. It’s the last place they’d expect us to go.”

  As the others moved off, Liz turned and looked at Chris. He started to speak, but she cut him off. “If you think I’m leaving you, you can think again,” she paused, the smile fading from her face. “I’m sorry, Chris, that I hurt you.”

  He shook his head. “It’s not your fault.”

  Yet she could see the hurt in the tightness of his face, the distress in his eyes. Silently, feared things might never be the same between them again. But there was no time to linger on the thought.

  Turning towards the door, Liz nodded. “Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER 33

  “I want to see her, Halt,” Sam growled as he settled into the back of the limousine.

  Halt stared back from the opposite seat, his grey eyes hardening. Beside Sam, Paul and Francesca shifted nervously, their mouths clenched shut. Swallowing, Sam felt the cold metal of his collar press against his throat. But this time he would not back down.

  “Is that so?” Halt whispered, his tone threatening.

  “I’ve done what you asked,” Sam replied. “I’ve taught them to use their wings. I’ve shown myself to the public, gotten you your funding,” his shoulders slumped and nausea swelled in his stomach, “Please, I just want to see her, to know she’s okay.”

  He was begging now, but he no longer cared. He had to know it had been worth it, that he had not sacrificed his integrity, had not betrayed everything he believed for nothing.

  Turning, Halt stared out the window at the passing crowds. His face was impassive, his eyes unreadable. Only his voice when he spoke betrayed his excitement. “The President is impressed,” he looked back at them, a smile warming his lips. “I will have all the funding I could ever need. You have done well, Samuel. I will reward your good behaviour. When we return, I will grant you an hour with the girl.”

  “Thank you, Halt,” Sam croaked, bowing his head. He closed his eyes, already picturing Ashley, already imagining her in his arms again. She was alive, and he would see her soon. It had all been worth it.

  Or had it?

  His joy curdled as he thought of the countless lives he had sentenced to the horrors of the facility, of the sons and daughters who would now vanish into the Californian mountains, never to return. How many more would die now, because of him?

  And what would happen once the Praegressus Project succeeded? Once they perfected their virus, and turned it loose on their soldiers?

  The drive back to San Francisco seemed to take an age. The four of them sat in silence for the rest of the journey, Halt in his triumph, Sam and the others lost in their own personal nightmares. When the car finally pulled to a stop, Sam could hardly wait to escape the stifling compartment. But he sat patiently with the others, waiting for Halt’s command. Like mutts on a leash, they knew the consequences of disobedience.

  Once outside, Halt called for them to follow, and one by one they filed out of the limousine. To Sam’s surprise, they were not in the grim basement carpark where they had been picked up earlier. Instead, they found themselves on the sidewalk outside a massive marble courthouse. They were at the base of a broad staircase leading up to the building, where a large revolving door waited between thick stone pillars.

  Sam glanced at Halt. “I thought we were going back to your facility.”

  Halt smiled. “We are.”

  Without waiting for a response, he started up the staircase, gesturing for them to follow. Sam glanced at the others, but they kept their lips shut tight. There had been a strained truce between them since the incident in the training hall, and Sam quickly looked away again.

  Clenching his fists, he started after Halt. He still didn’t know
what had happened that day, what had driven him to attack them with such ferocity. One second he’d been enjoying the chance to stretch his wings and test his new strength, the next he’d found himself pounding the two teenagers into the ground. He shuddered at the memory, and the nightmares it conjured.

  At the top of the stairs, Halt paused and waited for them to catch up before continuing through the revolving door. Inside, a tall-ceilinged entrance hall stretched out before them. Marble pillars towered to either side of them. Overhead, the domed ceiling had been decorated with a mosaic mural depicting the story of the American War. Down the length of the hall, brave WAS soldiers were shown fighting off the villainous forces of the United States, while at the end a mushroom cloud sprouted from the ruins of the once-famous Whitehouse.

  The hall was mostly open space, but around its edges wooden benches lined the walls. On the benches, men and woman in expensive suits waited in silence, their rigid postures and gold embossed wristwatches belying their importance. At the far end, several reception desks stood in front of a row of elevator doors.

  Straightening his shoulders, Halt strode towards the desks, waving them after him. Together, they made their slow way across the hall.

  Sam scowled as the men and woman on the benches looked up and saw their approach. His wings shifted uncomfortably – he had pulled them tight against his back, but they were still evident to anyone that looked. And just a few hours earlier his face had been plastered all over national television. Within seconds, every eye in the hall was transfixed on Sam, Paul and Francesca.

  Whispers rose around them, as their audience turned to one another. “Is that? It can’t be! It’s them… look at those feathers!”

  His cheeks warming, Sam closed his ears to the sounds and stared straight ahead. It was easy to tell what Halt was doing. He wore an arrogant smile as he strode across the room, basking in the attention. This was his moment, his victory, and he was making sure everybody knew it. In his white lab coat, there could hardly have been a greater contrast between the doctor and the rich men and women around them – and yet there was no mistaking who held the power here.