The Praegressus Project: Part One

by Aaron Hodges

  A few minutes later she heard the door to the hallway click open. She carefully wiped the tears from her eyes before looking up at Sam. His face was grim, and hovering in the doorway, he did not meet her eyes. Ashley stood and went to him, her white wings stretching out to wrap around them both as they embraced. Running a hand through his hair, she stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek.

  “How did it go?” Ashley whispered.

  “Did he believe you?” Liz added.

  Sam looked from Ashley to Liz, then shook his head. “I don’t know,” his tone was unusually sober, “He was in shock, I think.”

  Liz shivered. “Who wouldn’t be?” She glanced at Jasmine as she spoke, wondering if the girl would press her case again. Sitting at the table, Jasmine caught Liz’s gaze, but she only snorted and shook her head.

  “Mira’s watching him?” Chris asked as he moved away from the window.

  Outside, the sun had just begun to stain the skyline. Overhead the sky was overcast, and the buildings she could see looked dull and lifeless.

  Sam walked across to the table and sank into one of the chairs. Ashley sat beside him as he nodded. “She’s keeping him company. He’s… with his family. I couldn’t...” his voice trailed off, but Liz didn’t need to ask him what he meant.

  Glancing at the door to the hall, she swallowed. Former Chead or not, she didn’t envy Mira in her position. She saw again the eyes of the dead women staring up at her, the broken body of the girl Chris had saved. Despite herself, she felt tears sting her eyes.

  “So, where are we going?” Chris asked.

  Liz shook her head. She was out of ideas. In truth, there were only a few options to choose from. They could escape to the countryside, where they might avoid detection for months, or even years. The countryside was her home, and it would not be difficult to scavenge enough food to feed them. But if they retreated to the wilderness, they would be surrendering, giving in to the government’s corruption.

  After Richard’s sacrifice, that was no longer an option. His death hung over them like a lead cloak, demanding justice, requiring retribution. They could not leave everything behind, and pretend the fight in the courthouse had never happened.

  And even without Richard’s death, they were probably the only ones left who knew the truth about the Chead. According to Artemis, the ancient Chead they’d found imprisoned beneath the courthouse, the government had engineered the monstrous Chead virus during the American war. For decades, they had been using the virus to terrorise the population, ensuring their accumulation of power went unquestioned. If Liz and the others fled now, the truth would die with them.

  Not that anyone would believe them without proof.

  “I don’t know,” she said finally, “I don’t even know how we can navigate in the dark.”

  Sam was resting his head against the table, but he stirred at her words. “I can help with that,” he smiled, “I might be a bit of an urbanite, but my father taught me a few things. Once we get beyond the city lights, I can use the stars to point us in the right direction. If that’s where we decide to go, anyway.”

  “Well that’s something,” Jasmine murmured. She was leaning back in her chair, but her eyes had taken on a strange intensity. “I’ve been thinking…if no one has any better ideas, what if we went back to the facility?”

  Liz lurched upright on the couch. “You can’t be serious?”

  Climbing to her feet, Jasmine shrugged. “Why not?” she slowly made her way across the room, “There’s nothing we can do here in San Francisco – not with the whole city out to get us. But even with Halt gone, someone is bound to pick up where he left off. They certainly won’t have any lack of funding after your little display, Sam.”

  Sam cursed and climbed to his feet. Hands on the table, he glowered across at Jasmine. “What did you say?”

  Jasmine sneered as she faced off against him. Liz struggled from the couch, remembering now the bad blood between the two of them. Her muscles screamed their protest as she stood.

  “You heard me, Sam,” Jasmine said slowly, “How could you do it? How could you support him? How many other kids like us have you sentenced to death?”

  Liz quickly stepped between them as Sam stalked around the table, his face dark with fury.

  “Stop that,” Liz snapped, “Both of you. Don’t we have enough problems without fighting amongst ourselves?”

  When neither of them answered, she turned to face Jasmine. “We’ve all done things we regret, Jasmine,” she whispered, “Things we had no choice in.”

  “I didn’t want to do it, Jasmine,” she heard Sam’s voice from behind her. She glanced back and saw the fight had gone from his eyes. Slowly he sank back into his chair. “If it had just been me, I would have died before I helped him…”

  Beside him, Ashley went rigid. A wave passed across her face and lip trembled. Her eyes glimmered, but whatever she was feeling, she swallowed it down. Liz’s heart went out for her – for the pain she must have felt, being helpless against Halt’s cruelty while the doctor used her to get to Sam.

  “Am I interrupting something?” a voice called.

  Liz jumped and the five of them turned as one towards the voice. Together, they stared as Mira wandered into the room. The stranger Chris had knocked out lingered in the doorway to the corridor. His eyes travelled over the room, taking in each of them in turn, lingering on their half-folded wings. Safe in their own company, they hadn’t bothered to cover them up. Though his eyes were red from crying, there was no sign of tears now.

  Swallowing visibly, the man looked back at Sam. “So… its true. You all have wings…”

  Sam shrugged and the rest of them nodded reluctantly. A shiver went through the newcomer and he lowered his eyes. “So the rest must be true as well,” he said grimly, “What he said about where you came from, what they did to you?”

  Chris moved across the room and seated himself on the arm of the sofa. “I’m sorry about Danny and Daniella.”

  Jonathan closed his eyes as Chris spoke their names, and Liz could see the effort it took him to maintain his composure. Sucking in a breath, he looked at them again, his lips drawn tight.

  “I knew what they were capable of,” his voice shook, “I just never… I never thought it would happen here, to my own family, on our own soil.”

  Liz frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I work as a translator for the government. During my travels with our ambassadors, I’ve… seen things, heard things. Even our allies have begun to question our methods. I’ve just returned from Mexico, and even their president is concerned with the arrests the Department of Domestic Affairs has been carrying out.”

  “Some pretty legitimate concerns, it turns out,” Sam muttered.

  Liz nodded. They had all been victims of that program, along with the countless others who hadn’t survived the Praegressus Project. Abducted in the night, their parents accused of treason, they had been spirited away to a facility deep in the Californian mountains. Liz still woke screaming most nights, remembering the horrors they’d been subjected to. Only the conscience of the head geneticist, Doctor Fallow, had given them a chance to escape.

  “Yes, well, during my last trip, the Mexican government all but accused our ambassadors of using the war against terror as a cover to remove those who opposed our government.”

  “And you did nothing with that information?” Jasmine growled, stepping towards him.

  Jonathan’s eyes widened and he raised his hands. “What was I meant to do with it?” he asked, “Believe me, I’ve heard worse accusations brought against us over the years. Hell, I’ve seen things that would have people rioting in the streets. But who was I going to tell?”

  “The media?” Liz suggested without conviction.

  Jonathan snorted. “The media are bought and paid for by the rich – who go hand in hand with the government. They have a very… narrow agenda.”

  Liz and the others nodded. There was no surprise ther
e. While not officially controlled by the government, like most assets in the country, the media had been consolidated and bought out decades ago. Even the once popular social media was no longer an option. After ceding from the United States, the WAS had been determined to avoid decay that had consumed their former nation. They had identified fake news dispersed over social media as a key contributor, and had promptly erected a nationwide firewall to block the platforms. Much in the same way China had decades ago.

  “So what will you do now?” Chris asked, stepping up to the man, “Will you go on as though nothing has happened?”

  A shiver went through Jonathan, and Liz caught a glimmer in his eyes as he looked away. He stared at the wall, as though his gaze could see through walls, to where his wife and child lay in an endless sleep.

  “Now…” Jonathan croaked, “Now it’s too late, isn’t it? I thought if I behaved, if I did what they asked and turned a blind eye, that my family would be safe.”

  He turned back to them. His face tightened as he clenched his jaw, and his red-stained eyes swept over the six of them. “I want to hurt them,” he grated, “I want to make the ones who did this pay.”

  Liz’s heart hammered against her ribcage as she looked into his eyes, and saw the rage there, the untapped hatred.

  “How?” she asked.

  Jonathan sucked in a breath, and the tension went from him. A smile touched his lips. “That’s the thing, isn’t it?” he shook his head, “How do you bring down a government?”

  “We’ve been wondering the same thing,” Chris offered. “It’s not an easy task, with the world against you.”

  “You need allies,” Jonathan replied, “You need a movement, need people who will stand with you against the government.”

  Jasmine snorted. “Let us know when you find one.”

  Jonathan’s smile widened. “It just so happens, I already have.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Susan gasped as the Chead shoved her backwards into the laboratory. Her feet tripped on the slick floor and she crashed down onto the hard linoleum. The impact sent the breath rushing from her lungs. Choking, she scrambled backwards, trying to put as much space between herself and the Chead as possible.

  Cold laughter chased her across the room. Finding herself in a corner, Susan looked back at them, the cold fingers of her terror clutching at her throat. They stood in the doorway watching her, but they made no effort to give chase.

  Swallowing a scream, Susan struggled to get a grip on her fear. Her heart was racing and panic had already set in, robbing her of reason. She sucked in a long, shuddering breath, and felt a little better.

  Where did they come from? How did they get in?

  She crouched in the corner and looked up at them, struggling to make sense of the nightmare. Two more Chead had joined the first. They stood around the doorway, barring the only exit, their clothes stained with mud and blood. They whispered amongst themselves, but Susan couldn’t make out the words over the pounding of blood in her ears.

  They went silent as she started to stand, and their grey eyes turned to watch her. She stilled, but when they made no move towards her, she straightened the rest of the way. A quick glance around the lab confirmed her fear. There was only one panic button in this room – the one on the wall beside the doorway, right behind the Chead.

  “Hecate…” Susan jumped as a fourth Chead appeared in the doorway, “The others are… secure.”

  The Chead that had taken her turned towards the newcomer. “Good,” a smile touched the creature’s lips, “Bring them here… and send word… to Talisa. It is safe… for her.”

  The other Chead nodded and disappeared back into the corridor, leaving Susan alone with the other three. Standing in the corner, she shivered as a memory tugged at her.

  Hecate.

  The name was familiar. It was Greek in origin. Halt was fond of such names… And suddenly she remembered where she’d heard it. She looked up at the Chead again, her stomach wrenching. She recognised its face now, knew the long black hair. This was one of the creatures that had escaped all those weeks ago, when Fallow had released them from their cells.

  A low groan came from her throat, and the creature’s eyes flickered back to her. She sank back to the ground as it padded across the room. It looked down at her for a moment, and then crouched beside her.

  She wrapped her arms around her chest and looked away, but iron fingers grabbed her by the chin and forced her to look back.

  “Such fearful creatures,” Hecate’s words were mocking, “There is such… terror within you.”

  Tears burned in Susan’s eyes. “Please,” she croaked, “Don’t hurt me.”

  A dry, rasping laughter came from the Chead. Its nostrils flared as it studied her, tasting the air. “You are… new,” its grin spread, “Perhaps you will… help me?”

  Susan nodded, grasping for the lifeline. “Yes! Whatever you want! Just… don’t hurt me.”

  The laughter came again as the grey eyes flickered around the room. They were in one of the laboratories, and the benches were crowded with various machines and test tubes. Some were still whirring gently on the benchtop as they finished their cycles. She frowned, wondering where the doctor in charge was, before she noticed the pool of blood staining the floor behind one of the benches.

  “Where is our…” the creature frowned, pausing as it thought, “Where is our… creator?”

  “Creator?” Susan asked, her voice cracking with her terror. She shook her head. “I don’t… I don’t understand.”

  The Chead growled. Before she could react, its hand flashed out and caught her by the throat. With its immense strength, the Chead hauled her up, impossible to resist, and slammed her back against the wall. She gasped, struggling to inhale as its fingers began to squeeze.

  “Please…” she managed to whisper as darkness swirled at the edges of her vision.

  Without warning, Hecate released her and she crumpled to the ground. Eyes watering, she sucked in a breath, coughing as oxygen flooded her lungs.

  “Tell me…” Hecate growled, “Where… is that which… created us?”

  On her hands and knees, Susan looked up at the creature, her oxygen-starved mind struggling to decipher its demand. Slowly the cogs in her mind turned over, and she shuddered, realising there was only one thing the Chead could mean.

  “The virus?” she whispered, “You want the virus… that made you?”

  The creature’s smile returned. “Yes…”

  Susan nodded. “We… we have some… we have some in storage,” she stammered.

  “Take me.”

  “Okay,” gathering herself, Susan carefully climbed to her feet, using the wall as support. She looked at the creature and taking another breath, nodded to the doorway. “It’s that way.”

  Laughter rasped from the creature’s throat as it stepped aside to let her pass.

  The virus storage facility wasn’t far, and Susan moved past the other Chead and out into the corridor on trembling legs. Hecate followed close on her heels, and they made their way quickly down the long corridors without incident.

  A few minutes later, Susan drew to a stop outside a heavy metal door. She glanced at the Chead, wondering whether to say she didn’t have the key, but one look in its grey eyes was enough to dismiss the idea. Reaching into her pocket, she retrieved her key card and unlocked the door. Air hissed as the lock released, and she stepped inside. Before she could slam in shut behind her, the Chead stepped after her.

  Inside, they found themselves in a little airlock facing a second door. A basin on one wall was used for scrubbing down after trips inside, and shower heads in the ceiling could be used in the case of accidental exposure. But fortunately, the viral samples they worked with were not airborne, and could only be transmitted through ingestion. That was how they believed the Chead virus had been spread through the nation – by deliberate contamination of food supplies. Texas was the usual suspect, although the Western Allied States were no
t short of enemies.

  Moving to the second airlock, Susan pushed the door open. Beyond, the air was cold, carrying with it the strong scent of bleach. The walls of the room were lined with freezer drawers where they stored the various strains of the virus. Each drawer was colour coded with the generation of virus and labelled with the individual strain. Most of the drawers were filled with the PERV-A strain they had been replicating for the last few weeks, but in the corner she could see the red label that marked the original Chead virus.

  “Where?” Susan jumped as the creature whispered in her ear.

  Nodding, she moved across to the freezer and pulled open the drawer. Inside, were tray upon tray of little glass vials. Each one contained a single dose of the virus. They had been frozen in liquid nitrogen before being stored in the freezer, and would remain viable so long as they were kept that way.

  She looked up as Hecate joined her. “This is the original virus,” she croaked, “It needs to be kept frozen.”

  “How… is it moved?”

  Susan swallowed, her eyes drawn across the room to the portable refrigerators. She nodded at them. “We… we send shipments sometimes… to other laboratories. Those… steel boxes are portable freezers. Their batteries can last twenty-four hours...” she trailed off as Hecate leaned down to study the vials in the drawer.

  “PERV-ALPHA,” it growled, “What is that?”

  “It’s… it’s… our official name for the Chead virus,” Susan stammered, “They… its infectious when ingested, or injected into the blood supply,” she rambled on, eager to fend off more questions.

  She fell silent as the grey eyes shifted back on her. A shiver ran through her and she took a quick step back, suddenly realising how close she was to the creature. Its hand flashed out to catch her wrist, drawing her back. She tried to squirm free, but it pressed against her, pinning her against the freezer.

  “You said… you said you’d let me go,” tears blurred her vision as a scream built in her throat.

  “Did I?” the Chead’s eyes bored into hers.