by Aaron Hodges
On the floor, Jasmine stilled. She looked up at Liz, her brown eyes wide. “He told you about Jeremy?”
Liz smiled and nodded. “When we were still in the mountains. He told me what Jeremy did, how he chose to sacrifice himself rather than let Richard fight him.”
A sob tore from Jasmine’s throat. Reaching up, she tugged at her hair. Liz longed to go to her, to pull the grieving girl into her arms, to offer whatever comfort she could. But she hesitated, feeling again her desperate isolation, knowing her touch no longer brought relief, but agony.
“He’s really gone, isn’t he?” Jasmine said at last.
Liz nodded, her own eyes wet with tears. Jasmine sucked in a breath to steady herself, and then lifted herself back off the ground. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring off into the darkness. A wave of weariness washed over Liz, and closing her eyes, she lay back down.
“He wanted to leave you, you know,” Liz’s spine tingled as Jasmine spoke. “He said you were gone, that you’d turned and we should leave. I convinced him to stay.”
“Jasmine…” Liz whispered.
The girl lay down beside her, her eyes closed. “So it’s still my fault. And yours, and Chris’s for getting us caught in the first place. And Ashley’s for slowing us down, and Sam’s for attacking us,” Jasmine shivered, and her eyes found Liz’s in the darkness, “So why do we all get to live, when he had to die?”
Liz opened her mouth, but suddenly her throat was dry and she couldn’t find the words. She managed to croak something unintelligible, and then shook her head. There were no answers to Jasmine’s question, no reason in this cruel world of theirs. A longing rose inside her, to feel another’s embrace, to be held in strong arms and comforted.
And suddenly it was Liz crying. The tears came hot and fast, streaming down her cheeks to soak her pillow. She wrapped her arms around herself, but there was no comfort there, no reassurance. Her gut churned and she felt an empty hole in the bottom of her stomach. She remembered Artemis’s warm embrace, and felt again the pang of his death, and the realisation that with him gone, she might never feel the warmth of human touch again.
Then Jasmine’s hands were taking her by the shoulders, drawing her close, though she was careful not to touch Liz’s skin.
“Liz… I’m sorry,” she heard the other girl whisper.
Shaking her head, Liz fought to swallow her sobs. Slowly they died away. Finally she drew in a long breath and looked at Jasmine. The other girl stared back, her tear-streaked face no doubt a mirror of Liz’s own. Unexpectedly, she found herself smiling.
“What a mess the pair of us are.” She laughed.
Jasmine grinned back, though Liz could still see the emotion welling just beneath the surface. “He’d be pretty pleased if he could see us,” Liz shook her head, “A couple of pretty girls crying over him.”
The silence resumed then, though it was no longer strained, and Liz found herself drifting off towards sleep. The images returned, flickering in the darkness behind her eyelids – Halt, Chris, Richard.
“What now?” It took a long time for Liz to realise she hadn’t dreamed the question.
She groaned, struggling to make her mind work. “We stick together,” she said at last.
“How do we stop them?” Jasmine pressed, “Artemis is dead. We don’t have any proof about the Chead.”
An image flickered into Liz’s mind, of a blonde boy soaring through the mountains, a grin on his youthful face. Richard had never believed they could win, that there could be anything for them but a life on the run. Yet in the end, he had sacrificed himself to save them all. She would never forget it.
“We’ll find a way,” Liz smiled, “Somehow.”
CHAPTER 3
Sam startled awake as a voice shouted in the darkness. Beside him, someone started to thrash, and something hard struck him in the chin. Gasping, he rolled across the ground and tried to sit up, but a feathered limb struck him again, flinging him back.
“Ashley!” he shouted, “Ashley, stop, it’s okay, it’s me, Sam.”
A sudden stillness came over the room and Sam let out a long breath. Struggling to his hands and knees, he crawled across to where he’d been lying with Ashley. She sat on her haunches, her amber eyes wide, almost glowing in the darkness. Her white wings caught the light of the distant moon, and Sam could almost believe this was not Ashley at all, but some angel come to take him away.
He shivered and blinked, and she was just Ashley again.
Poor, terrified, Ashley.
Reaching out, he drew her into his arms. She crumpled at his touch and he pulled her close, feeling the bones beneath her flesh. Her wings drooped behind her, seeming dull and lifeless now, lacking the spark of a moment before.
“Ash, it’s okay, you’re safe.”
She trembled in his arms. Burying her head in his shoulder, Ashley whimpered. Gently, he stroked her hair, whispering to her in the darkness, promising her it would be okay, that Halt was gone.
“You guys okay?” Chris’s voice came from near the door, but Sam waved him back.
“He’s coming,” Ashley pulled herself from Sam’s arms.
Sam shivered. Ashley’s eyes were wide and staring, but they did not seem to see him. She watched him, unblinking, as though still deep in sleep. He lifted a hand and cupped her cheek.
“Who’s coming?” he whispered.
“Halt,” her voice was hollow, despairing.
“Oh, Ash,” Sam hugged her again, as though his embrace alone could heal her, “He’s gone, Ash. He’s dead.”
At his words, Ashley went limp in his arms. He looked at her face and saw that her eyes were closed again, her face at peace. Holding her carefully, he lowered her back to their makeshift bed of blankets and pulled them tight around her. Then he brushed the hair from her face and kissed her lightly on the forehead.
“Is she okay?” Chris’s voice came again.
Nodding, Sam stood. He wouldn’t sleep now, not after his abrupt awakening, and moving across the room he found a seat on the floor across from Chris. The other boy didn’t speak for a while, just sat staring at the door, as though there were something fascinating about the way it had been torn free of its hinges.
“It’s my fault, you know,” Chris said finally. His eyes never left the door.
Sam shook his head. “What do you mean, Chris?”
Chris sighed. “That we were ever here. I… there was a news report, about my mum being executed,” his voice cracked at that, but he swallowed and went on, “I lost it. I heard a girl screaming and I didn’t even think. I killed the policemen that were attacking her, and she brought us here. But her mum betrayed us, and now…” he waved a hand, “They’re dead. Artemis is dead. Richard is dead.”
Sam sat in silence for a while, staring at Chris, watching the dim light of the moon playing across his pale face. His hazel eyes were harder than the last time Sam had seen them, when he’d bid them all farewell in the mountains. In truth, he hadn’t expected to see them again. He’d given himself up for dead when he’d taken Ashley back to the facility.
Despite everything, Sam found himself smiling. “If you want to think of it that way, Chris, then it’s also your fault we’re free. And that Halt’s dead,” he paused, and guilt touched his chest as he remembered the boy and girl he’d left behind, “We all have our regrets, Chris. You can’t blame every bad thing that happens on your own mistakes.”
“But I should have been better,” Chris bowed his head, his eyes distant, “Somehow, somewhere out in those mountains I became their leader. They trusted me to keep them safe. Instead, I got us all caught, got Richard killed.”
Sam sighed, thinking of the headstrong young boy he’d first met back in their prison cell. Chris had come a long way since then. “You did the best you could, Chris. Remember what Ashley said, back in the facility. We weren’t trained for this – at the end of the day, we’re just a bunch of kids. We’re going to make mistakes. But we can’t let them stop u
s. We have to keep moving, keep fighting. Otherwise, they’ve already won.”
Chris nodded. Finally he turned to meet Sam’s eyes. “It’s good to have you back, Sam” he grinned, “Although I’m sure the President will miss having you as his poster boy.”
Sam groaned. “How did you find out about that?”
“I got bored. I figured the TV wouldn’t wake you guys up if I put it on mute. The only news bigger than you was us,” his smile faded, “Why did you do it? Surely you know…”
“I know,” Sam cut him off. His heart twisted and he struggled to keep his voice steady, “Believe me, I know.”
“Then why?”
Sam shook his head. “He saved her, Chris,” he whispered, “Halt saved her – and then threatened to kill her if I didn’t help him. He broke her fingers in front of me, and there was nothing either of us could do to stop him. I…I didn’t have a choice.”
His voice cracked at the end, and he hung his head. Guilt welled in his chest, threatening to drown him. Whatever he said, Sam had known it was wrong – that by helping Halt he was condemning countless others to torture and death. How many other children would they take for their sick experiments, now that he’d helped them win the public’s support? How many more would die in agony?
“I understand,” he looked up as Chris spoke. A frown creased the boy’s face. “Is that why Ashley seems so… different?”
Sam shivered. “I don’t know what he did to her… afterwards,” he shook his head. “Halt wouldn’t let me see her. Just sent me to teach those two kids what they could do.”
“Who were they?”
“The only ones who survived the second strain of the virus,” Sam replied, “Paul and Francesca. We weren’t… close. But… I shouldn’t have left them there, not like that…”
He shivered as he remembered his last glimpse of Paul and Francesca. Ashley had managed to unlock his collar, but before they could free Paul and Francesca, the soldiers had appeared. They’d left them writhing in agony on the courthouse floor, with however many volts of electricity surging through their bodies.
“There wasn’t any time,” Chris offered, “We barely made it out of there as it was.”
“I know,” Sam shook his head, “But I still left them.”
Silence fell between them, but as Sam’s thoughts began to drift, Chris spoke again, “Do you think she’ll be alright?”
Sam sighed. He looked across at the bundle of blankets where Ashley slept, turning the question over and over in his mind. In the heat of their escape, he’d thought Ashley had been fine. But as the cocktail of drugs and adrenaline in her system had faded, she’d grown quiet. By the time they reached this apartment, the light-hearted girl they all knew so well had become withdrawn, her manner silent and jumpy.
“I don’t know,” he whispered finally, “I hope so. Halt’s dead, we all saw him die. He can’t haunt her forever.”
For a while Chris didn’t reply, and looking across Sam saw him staring at Ashley. When Chris spoke again, his voice was firm. “She will,” he looked at Sam and smiled, “Hell, she’s tougher than any of us. She just needs time to heal.”
Sam chuckled and rubbed his neck where the collar had burned him. “I think we all do,” he shook his head, “How long do you think we’ll be safe here?”
“Not long enough,” Chris mused, “They’ll be looking in all the obvious places first, but sooner or later someone will think to check here. Hopefully we’ll have tomorrow. It wouldn’t be a good idea to go out during daylight. Tomorrow night we should try and move.”
Sam suppressed a groan. “Any thoughts on where–” he trailed off as Chris suddenly raised a hand.
Clamping his mouth shut, Sam turned to stare at the door. For a moment he thought Chris was being paranoid. Then he heard them – the distant thud of footsteps, coming closer.
As one, Chris and Sam rose to their feet. Sam glanced at Chris, and then back at the door.
It could be anyone, he reassured himself. Just someone returning home late at night.
But still the footsteps grew closer. There were four apartments on each floor, with a short corridor and landing shared between them. When they’d first heard the footsteps, the sounds had echoed as though the intruders were in the stairwell. Now it was obvious the footsteps had reached their floor, and were approaching down the corridor outside.
Go past, go past, Sam silently willed the walker.
Then abruptly the footsteps ceased.
Right outside their door.
CHAPTER 4
Susan shivered as a cold breeze blew across her neck. Picking up the pace, she strode down the starch-white corridors of the facility, eager to reach the laboratory. She was on the night shift, and while they were short several key personal, things had only grown busier over the past few weeks. The Praegressus Facility was now in full production mode, working to prepare commercial quantities of the PERV-A strain of virus. Despite its imperfections, the government had advanced its production cycle in response to the mounting risk of Chead attacks.
The remaining geneticists were attempting to refine the virus between reproduction cycles, using blood samples taken from the failed candidates to identify areas for improvement. To reduce the immunoresponse in hosts, several strands of DNA had been removed from the virus that could be used by immune systems to identify it as a foreign organism. Susan and the other doctors hoped this would reduce the need for immunosuppressants with future hosts.
Even so, they were still a long way from a viable product. Optimistic estimations suggested the new success rate might be as high as 65% - still far too low to risk WAS soldiers. But the government had promised a fresh batch of candidates would arrive any day now. Word was they were to omit all initial trials, and proceed straight to viral administration.
Susan shivered at the thought. She’d arrived at the facility during their last round of testing, and had struggled with the ethics behind the framework that new candidates were subjected too. She knew they were already sentenced to death, but she still couldn’t help but empathise with them. And when it had come to the introduction of the virus, it had almost been too much. For weeks, the corridors of the facility had stunk of death, as the doctors tried and failed to keep the hosts alive.
Yet in the end, the sacrifice had proven a success. She had watched in awe with the other doctors as the two hosts faced off against the Chead, and matched it blow for blow. Caught up in the excitement, Susan had been honoured to administer the final injection to the survivors after the fight. There had been a moment of guilt, when she’d lied to the boy about the injection’s contents, but the results…
She smiled as she turned a corner, remembering the sight of wings slowly growing from their backs. It was a miracle – a breakthrough beyond anything that had been achieved before. When the virus was perfected, the Chead would be resigned to history.
Thinking of the creatures, Susan shivered as she remembered Fallow’s betrayal. She still could not believe what had happened, what a woman she’d thought of as a friend had done to them. Releasing the candidates had been one thing – but the Chead?
Susan had already retired to her room when the alarms had sounded that night. It was probably the only thing that had saved her. Safe behind the bolted steel door, she had listened to the shriek of the alarm, wondering what disaster they signalled. For a while, she had thought about going outside, in case a fire was creeping slowly towards her. But the facility protocols were clear – in the event of an alarm, doctors were to return to their quarters and await further instruction.
Thankfully, she had followed procedure. It had not been long before the first screams reached her. Outside the safety of her room, the guards had fought bravely, the chirp of their machine guns echoing loudly in the long corridors of the facility. Apparently they had managed to kill several of the creatures, before the rest finally fled. But their victory had come at a cost, and by the time Halt led them after the escaped candidates, there were o
nly a few men left standing.
Steeling herself, Susan pushed away the image of the bodies she’d seen in the aftermath. The corridors had been red with blood, and few of the Chead’s victims remained in one piece. Even now the thought made her sick.
Heading down another corridor, Susan silently cursed the size of the place and the distance between the laboratory and her sleeping quarters. Thankfully, more guards had been brought in now, enough to patrol the outer walls as well as the hallways, and she was finally beginning to feel safe again.
She could hear a guard approaching now. The light thud of his boots carried around the next corner, growing closer. Putting a smile on her face, Susan picked up the pace, wondering who else had drawn the night shift. Knowing the difficulty she’d had when she’d first arrived, she had done her best to befriend the burly newcomers. Though their roles were vastly different, they were all working towards a common cause, and she knew most of the guards by name now.
Susan was already beginning to speak a greeting as she turned the corner, but the words caught in her throat as she saw who waited for her. She gaped, her mouth falling open as her heart lurched in her chest. She tried to scream, but no sound came out. Clutching her hand to her breast, Susan stared into the cold grey eyes of the boy standing in front of her.
He wore a torn orange jumpsuit stained brown with mud, and his greasy black hair shone in the fluorescent lights. Blood covered his arms and face, congealing beneath his filthy fingernails. A smile twisted on his lips as his grey eyes watched her, unblinking. Sleek muscles rippled along his arms as he stepped towards her.
Susan watched, frozen in place, unable to move for her terror. Only as it stretched out an arm towards her did she finally snap out of her trance. Turning, Susan fled. She didn’t make it three steps before the Chead caught her.
