The Praegressus Project: Part One

by Aaron Hodges

  CHAPTER 5

  Chris stared at the door handle, breath held, waiting for it to turn. Sam crouched beside him, his eyes wide, his lips pressed tightly together. His ears twitched, catching the distant rattle of a keychain. He frowned, glancing at Sam again, and wondering who would be returning home so late at night.

  The clatter of keys hitting the floor was unbelievably loud in the silence of the apartment, even through the propped-up remnants of their door. Then the person outside was moving again, the thud of their footsteps retreating down the corridor, picking up speed.

  Cursing, Chris leapt at the door and hurled it aside. A shout came from along the corridor as he bounded outside and turned in the direction of the footsteps. Halfway down the hallway he glimpsed a man looking back at him, his face pale in the darkness. The man’s eyes widened and he tripped over his own legs in his effort to flee.

  Chris raced down the corridor as the man struggled back to his feet. He kept his wings tight against his back as he closed the gap, his powerful legs closing the distance in seconds. Bounding into the air, he crashed into the man’s back and bore him to the ground.

  “No, let me go!” His victim writhed, struggling to break free.

  A fist flashed for Chris’s face but he caught it with ease. He twisted the man’s arm behind his back, then cursed as another scream echoed down the corridor. He glanced at the doors of the other apartments, but there was no sign of movement. Without any other choice, Chris rapped his fist on the back of the man’s skull. Though he held back, the man slumped to the ground without another sound.

  Panting softly, Chris stood and stared down at his victim. The man was still breathing, although he wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not. He shook his head and reaching down, dragged the unconscious man back into their apartment. On the way inside, he scooped up the keys his victim had dropped. The number on the tag matched the one beside their broken door. This was his apartment.

  Sam waited inside, and as Chris dragged his victim through the doorway, he quickly put the broken door back in place. Little good it had done them – the man had clearly realised something was wrong before he’d fled. It was only a matter of time before the neighbours realised too. Or perhaps they already had, and simply didn’t care.

  Dumping his victim beside the dining table, Chris straightened and looked around the room. The commotion had apparently woken the others. They now stood around the apartment in various states of shock and fear. Ashley hadn’t moved from where she had been sleeping, but her amber eyes were wide as she stared at the man on the floor. Liz hovered near the doorway, her head tilted as she listened for signs of movement.

  Only Jasmine seemed capable of action. Shrugging off Mira’s embrace, she strode across the living room and glared down at the intruder.

  “Who the hell is this?” she growled.

  Without waiting for Chris to answer, she crouched down and began rummaging through the man’s pockets.

  “He lives here,” Chris said warily, holding up the keys to the apartment. “It must be Danny’s husband. Didn’t she mention something about him being away?”

  Sam only shook his head, but Liz nodded. “I forgot. How could we have been so careless?”

  On the ground, Jasmine snorted, then held up a wallet in triumph. Standing, she wandered around the room as she flicked through the contents. Then she stilled and turned back towards them, a white identification card in her hand.

  “He’s from the government,” she hissed.

  “What?” Chris and Liz asked as one. He glanced at Liz, but she only shook her head and looked away.

  Crossing the room, Chris took the card from Jasmine. The man in the photograph stared back at him. His brown hair had been combed flat and he looked a few years younger than the forty-year-old Chris had tackled in the hallway, but there was no mistaking him. The ID named him as Jonathan Baker. Beneath his name were the words ‘Government Employee’.

  Chris shivered and handed the card back to Jasmine. “Danny said he was a translator…” he murmured.

  “A translator for them,” Jasmine snapped.

  She crouched beside the man again and grabbed a handful of his hair. Tugging back his head, she looked up at them, her lips twisted in a scowl. There was a fire burning in her eyes, and Chris had to steel himself not to look away.

  “Let’s throw him out the window,” Jasmine suggested.

  “No,” Chris shook his head. “He’s done nothing to us.”

  “Yet,” Jasmine snapped. “You want to wait until he does?”

  “We can’t kill him, not in cold blood.” Chris swallowed. “That would only make us as bad as them.”

  Jasmine gave a dry, rasping laugh. Releasing Jonathan’s hair, her hand moved to his throat. “You wouldn’t have to get your hands dirty, Chris,” she said. “I’ll gladly rip out his throat.”

  “No,” Chris took a step closer.

  “Are you going to stop me, Chris?” Jasmine’s eyes flashed, “Are you really defending him? He works for the government – the same people who tortured us, who killed Richard.”

  “So did my parents,” Chris looked around as a faint voice came from the pile of blankets. On the floor, Ashley straightened. “They didn’t have a choice. They did what they had too, to protect me and my sister,” her voice shook as she finished, but she did not look away.

  For a moment, Jasmine didn’t move. The veins stood out on her arms, though her hand was still loose around Jonathan’s throat. Watching her, Chris swallowed, knowing she could kill the man long before he reached her.

  Finally, Jasmine shook her head and sneered. Releasing Jonathan, she stood. “He may not have betrayed us, but remember what they did,” she nodded in the direction of the bedroom, “His wife turned us in.”

  “She didn’t know any better,” Liz offered. She moved across the room to join them, squaring off against the taller girl. “They thought we were criminals, fugitives. And they paid for what they did with their lives.”

  Jasmine snorted, but Chris could see some of the rage had gone from her eyes. Liz stretched out a hand and placed it on Jasmine’s shoulder over her t-shirt.

  “It’s not his fault either, Jas,” Liz whispered.

  Jasmine’s eyes shimmered and she quickly looked away. “What do we do with him then?”

  “Let’s start by tying him up,” Sam offered. He moved to the closet in the wall and began rummaging inside. A few minutes later he emerged holding a spool of thick wool. “Guess this will have to do.”

  Chris nodded and moved to help Sam secure their prisoner. The girls didn’t speak as they worked, and Chris hoped they were thinking of a more long-term plan.

  “That should hold him,” Sam clapped his hands as they finished.

  They had bound Jonathan’s hands tight behind his back with the wool, and then jammed a ball of the stuff into his mouth to keep him from crying out. Chris hoped he wouldn’t suffocate, although he supposed that would at least solve the problem his appearance had created.

  “The sun will be up soon,” Jasmine commented, “If we’re not killing him, what are we doing?”

  Chris knuckled his forehead, his mind sluggish from lack of sleep. He looked around the room, searching for inspiration, but the plain white walls offered no hints for their next move.

  “They’re all against us now, you know,” he looked up as Jasmine spoke again.

  “What do you mean?” Chris asked.

  “Humanity – the whole bloody lot of them,” Jasmine looked around at them, “Hecate was right. After what we saw on the news, they’ll all be hunting for us now.”

  Chris shivered, but he couldn’t find the words to refute her. Shaking his head, Chris stared at Jonathan, watching as his chest slowly rose and fell.

  “If he was getting home at this hour, I doubt anyone will be expecting to see him today,” Liz said finally, “That means we should be safe here until tonight at least. We won’t have to leave during daylight hours.”
/>   “So we leave after dark?” Sam asked.

  “Maybe…” Liz mused.

  Chris looked up at the tone in her voice. Liz’s eyes were distant as she stared down at the intruder, and Chris waited a moment before pressing her further.

  “Liz… what are you thinking?” he asked.

  Liz blinked and shook her head. She looked around, her blue eyes finding Chris’s. For once she did not look away. “We all know what it’s like to lose a loved one. He’s just lost his whole world – the least we can do is tell him the truth.”

  “Why would he believe us?” Sam asked.

  Chris nodded. Halt and his team had cleared the apartment of any evidence of government interference. The tranquiliser darts had been removed along with most of the valuables, making it look like a regular break in. He shivered then, as he realised the same government this man worked for had left him to return home without telling him what had happened to his family. Silently, he wondered how many others had perished like this, murdered to protect the government’s dark secrets.

  “We have to tell him,” Liz continued, “Have to make him believe us. He needs to know what happened, has to know why his wife and daughter are dead.”

  “Good luck with that one, Liz,” Sam gave a half-hearted laugh as Chris and the others stared at her.

  A smile tugged at Liz’s lips. “Actually, Sam, I was hoping you would be the one to do it.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Sam sighed as he swivelled the wooden chair and sat down. Leaning his arms against its back, Sam watched the man sleep, still wondering what he was going to say. Mira leaned against the wall on the other side of the room, one eye on him, the other on their guest. Sam carefully kept his gaze averted from the strange girl. Her presence made him uncomfortable, but she had invited herself in, and he wasn’t game to throw her out.

  On the bed, the man gave a long, drawn out groan and started to move. Sam’s heart started to race and he straightened in the chair. He glanced at Mira, wondering whether he should order her out after all. But she only smiled at him, and nodded at the bed. Looking back at the prisoner, Sam saw his eyes were open.

  Slowly, the man wriggled backwards on the bed. The task was made difficult with his hands tied behind his back, but reaching the headboard, he managed to sit up. Spitting out the ball of wool, he made to get to his feet.

  Mira gave a low-pitched growl and leapt onto the foot of the bed. Her back arched and her wings snapped open, their grey feathers seeming to fill the room. Even Sam flinched, while their guest gave a strangled scream, and promptly tumbled off the side of the bed.

  “Please!” Jonathan gasped from the ground, as Mira towered over him, “We’re on the same side!”

  Sam raised an eyebrow as he stood. He waved Mira down, struggling to keep the smile from his face. He had to admit, the girl had style.

  “And who’s side would that be, Jonathan Baker?” he asked as he moved around the side of the bed.

  “The government’s!” Jonathan gasped. He lay helpless on the floor, his hands still tied behind his back.

  “And why would you think we work for the government?” Sam asked.

  On the floor, Jonathan blinked. His eyes were wide, and he slowly shook his head. “The… the wings?” he wheezed, “She’s got wings… and you, you’re the boy from the press conference, aren’t you?”

  Sam sighed. He was already regretting letting Liz talk him into this. That was why she’d wanted him to be the one to break the news of course – because by now everyone in the Western Allied States knew his face. And they all thought he worked for the government.

  “Yes, that was me,” he muttered at last, “I hate to break it to you, but I wasn’t there by choice.”

  Jonathan swallowed. “What do you mean?”

  Giving his best attempt at a menacing smile, Sam took a step closer to the translator. “I was a prisoner,” he growled, “But now I’ve escaped. And the question is, now that I’m free, why should I spare your life?”

  A shiver went through Jonathan then, and he shrank back against the wall. For a second, Sam thought he would start to beg. Instead, he let out a long breath, and nodded. “So be it,” he closed his eyes, “Just don’t hurt my family.”

  Sam’s stomach wrenched and he took a step back. Silently he slumped into the chair. It took a moment for Jonathan to look back up. When he did, his shoulders drooped, and there was a tremor to his voice when he spoke again. “Where are they, my family? Where is Danny and Daniella?”

  Shaking his head, Sam nodded at the bed. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable.”

  For a second Jonathan didn’t move. He lay staring up at Sam, his face twisted with hate and pain, before he climbed to his feet. A low growl came from Mira’s throat as he took a step towards Sam, and he stilled again.

  “I wouldn’t,” Sam said softly, nodding to Mira, “She used to be Chead.”

  The man’s eyes widened, and he glanced quickly at Mira, as though to reassure himself her eyes weren’t actually grey. When he looked back, Sam could see him weighing his options, deciding whether to make a break for it or not.

  “We’re not going to hurt you,” he murmured, “Just sit down, and listen to what I have to say.”

  Jonathan’s shoulders sagged, and with one last glare, he moved back to the bed and sat down.

  “Where are they?” he repeated.

  Sam sighed. “First, tell me what you do for the government.”

  The man’s eyes hardened, but he gave a grim nod. “I’m a translator,” he grated, “I’ve been away on business, helping with our ambassador in Mexico. Now, tell me where my wife and daughter are!”

  Mira growled and spread her wings as he raised his voice, but Sam waved her down. He stood and moved to stand beside the bed. His heart ached, and he could barely bring himself to say the words.

  “They’re dead,” he croaked. “I’m sorry.”

  At his words, the fight seemed to drain from Jonathan. He went limp against the mattress and turned his face away, but not before Sam glimpsed the tears in his eyes. His heart went out for the man.

  “How?” Jonathan whispered.

  Shaking his head, Sam returned to his chair. He closed his eyes, and slowly recounted the story, the one the others had told him. How they had met his daughter, Daniella, when she’d been waylaid in an alleyway by policemen, how she had brought them back to the apartment as thanks for their help, how Danny had cleaned Chris’s gunshot wound. And how Danny had finally recognised them, and called the police to report them.

  “So you killed her?” There was anger in Jonathan’s voice as he sat up.

  “No,” Sam whispered. His eyes caught the fury in Jonathan’s eyes, but he didn’t look away. “When the SWAT team came, they were led by a man called Doctor Halt. You know him – he stood beside me during the President’s speech. After they captured my friends, he ordered your wife and daughter to be killed, so there would be no witnesses to the escape of his precious experiments.”

  “No,” Jonathan whispered, “That’s not possible. We have laws–”

  “They don’t apply to people like Halt,” Sam cut in, “They don’t apply to the powerful, not anymore.”

  Jonathan stared at him for a long moment, and then bowed his head. Silence fell, and Sam wondered if he and Mira should leave the man to his grief. He was just preparing to stand when Jonathan spoke again.

  “Where are they now?” he asked.

  Sam paused. “They’re…they’re in Daniella’s room.”

  “Can I see them?” Jonathan looked up at him, his eyes wet with tears.

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea…” Sam said.

  “Please,” Jonathan begged.

  Sam let out a long breath and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see what waited in that room. One glance had been enough. But who was he to deny a father, a husband, one last chance to say goodbye to his family?

  He nodded. “Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER 7
/>
  Liz let out a long sigh as she sank onto the couch. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the cushions. Her heart was only just beginning to slow. The sound of the front door crashing open had torn her from her sleep, and springing from the bed she’d raced into the living room, expecting to see soldiers charging into the apartment.

  Instead, she’d found Sam standing defensively in the doorway, watching as Chris dragged an unconscious man through the front door.

  Now the dull ache of her body was worse than when she’d gone to bed, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up and go back to sleep. Her conversation with Jasmine had left her feeling drained and empty, and she hadn’t even begun to recover from the fight in the courthouse. But Jasmine and Ashley were still sitting at the propped-up kitchen table, and no one was showing any signs of returning to sleep.

  The cushions shifted beneath her as someone else lowered themselves onto the couch. Liz cracked open her eyes and saw Chris sitting nearby, his hazel eyes watching her. Supressing a groan, she rolled onto her side, turning her back to him. Exhausted as she was, she didn’t have the energy to face him just then.

  “Liz…” Chris whispered.

  Feeling his hand on her shoulder, she shrugged it off and glanced back at him.

  “What?” she snapped with more force than she’d intended.

  Chris flinched, and she saw the hurt in his eyes. At that moment, she didn’t care. All she wanted was to curl up in his arms and fall asleep – but she couldn’t. Fuelled by that knowledge, her anger caught light.

  “What do you want, Chris?” she pressed when he didn’t answer her first question.

  His eyes hardened then, and he stood suddenly. “Nothing,” shaking his head, he moved away.

  Liz’s anger died in her chest as Chris walked across the apartment to stand at the broken window. She wanted to call him back, to apologize and tell him how much she was hurting. But the words caught in her throat, and finally she slumped back on the couch and buried her head in the cushions.