The Praegressus Project: Part One

by Aaron Hodges

  Chris still stood in the middle of the lounge, looking around at the plain walls with nervous eyes. The room was empty except for another couch opposite her own, and a single painting of the Golden Gate Bridge on the far wall. Thread bare carpet covered the floor, and the couch sagged beneath her. Feeling the tip of a spring prodding her backside, she shifted into a more comfortable position.

  “You didn’t argue with them,” she said softly when Chris finally looked at her.

  Shrugging, Chris sat down on the opposite couch. “After what happened…I just thought…” he shook his head, “I’ve screwed up so many times… maybe it’s time we let the adults handle things.”

  Liz snorted. “As angry as Jasmine is, she has a point. Letting the adults handle things is what got us into this mess in the first place.”

  Chris sighed, and she could see the doubt in his eyes. The rush of his reunion with his grandmother was finally fading, and with it, there was no hiding from the consequences of his actions. They had almost lost everything.

  “What Mike said makes sense,” Chris said finally, “We’re too well known to go to the university.”

  “So what do we do in the meantime?” Liz pressed.

  “We wait,” Chris pursed his lips and stared at the worn carpet, “What do you think happened to Jonathan?”

  Liz blinked. In the rush of the fight, she had all but forgotten the translator. After a moment’s hesitation, she shook her head. “I don’t know. We left him on the edge of the square, he shouldn’t have been caught up with the soldiers.”

  “Unless he tried to help as well,” Chris commented.

  “I’m sure he’s okay, Chris,” Liz offered, “He wanted justice, but he wasn’t an idiot. He wouldn’t have gone charging into a squad of soldiers like a madman.”

  Chris winced, but Liz laughed, taking the sting from her words. When Chris looked back at her, their eyes met. Liz fell silent as she stared into his hazel eyes, searching for the boy she knew, but Chris blinked and looked away. Smirking, she stood and moved across to the other couch and sat down beside him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, lowering his eyes, “You were right, I should have waited...”

  Liz laughed quietly. “Yes, well, as I said earlier, I’m not quite finished with your punishment.”

  “Oh?” Chris raised an eyebrow.

  Heart hammering in her chest, Liz crawled across the sofa, until she crouched over Chris. He lay still beneath her, his eyes wide as they looked up at her. A tremor went through Liz, and desire swept through her. She desperately wanted to relax, to lay on Chris’s chest and feel him beneath her, to run her hands through his hair and feel his mouth on her neck.

  But she resisted. Instead, she slowly leaned down and touched her lips to his.

  She sensed Chris’s fear as he stilled, and almost changed her mind. But then Chris’s lips were pressing back against hers, and Chris’s hands were in her hair, pulling her deeper into the kiss. Her lips parted as his tongue darted out to meet hers, and a moan rumbled up from her throat. Heat spread through her chest, warming her heart. Her arms trembled, though from desire or the effort of holding herself up, she couldn’t tell.

  Carefully, Liz lowered herself down, until her breasts were resting against Chris’s chest. Even through the fabric of her t-shirt, she could feel the heat of his desire. She dug her fingers into the cloth of his shirt, feeling his hips move beneath her.

  A moan tore from Chris’s lips as they broke apart for a second. Her heart pounded as she leaned down and kissed him harder. His moan deepened, but his hands stilled, and now he was no longer kissing her back.

  Then Chris began to scream.

  Liz scrambled back as Chris thrashed on the couch. The desire died in her throat as a knife twisted in her stomach. Red lines radiated out from Chris’s mouth and his eyes were closed tight. He cried out again, though this time he managed to clamp his mouth shut mid-scream. He clenched his teeth, his breathing strained.

  Kneeling beside the sofa, all Liz could do was stare as the seizures racked Chris’s body. His back arched, his fingers clawing at the foam cushions, and his mouth opened again, though this time no sound came out. Tears poured from Liz’s eyes as the frail hope she’d held for their relationship died in her chest.

  Slowly the convulsions faded away, and Chris grew still. His eyes flickered open, but his breath still came in ragged gasps. Their eyes met, and she could see the pain he was struggling to conceal. A smile tugged at his lips as he tried to sit up.

  “Don’t,” she whispered, holding out her hand, “You’ll hurt yourself.”

  But Chris only gritted his teeth and pulled himself up. “I’m okay, Liz–” he broke off as a coughing fit shook him.

  Liz stood, but he waved a hand and sucked in another breath. “That was some kiss,” he licked his lips and forced another grin, “You took my breath away.”

  A shudder ran through Liz. She tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat. Swallowing, she tried again, but it was no use. Her hands shook, and she wrapped her arms around her chest before the trembling gave her away.

  Chris’s brow creased. “Sorry, bad joke.”

  “No, Chris,” she managed finally. Her eyes stung but now she did not cry. “We can’t… I can’t keep doing this. I thought… but I was wrong, it’s not going to work. I can’t…”

  Grief swelled in her chest as she started to back away. Chris struggled to rise and come after her, but the venom had robbed him of his strength, and he failed to escape the sofa.

  “Liz!” he called after her.

  But she was already gone. Spinning, Liz sprinted through the doorway and out into the hall. She longed to turn back, to sit beside Chris and let him hold her, but that was impossible. A lonely grief filled her, but she knew it was for the best. Her love could only bring pain and suffering now.

  Only when she finally found an empty room, did Liz let her tears fall.

  CHAPTER 18

  The Chead woke to the whisper of voices, to the scent of fear and a red haze that wrapped around her mind. Opening her eyes, the Chead screamed as the harsh white light flooded her vision. Pain split her head, and the red swirled. The Chead growled, rage curling through her veins and feeding her strength. A pang of hunger came from her stomach as she staggered to her feet.

  Looking around the room, she found the grey eyes of another Chead watching her. He made no effort to move as she stumbled, her feet unwieldy beneath her. Her hand caught a bench and the Chead steadied herself. Red swirled across her vision, and she gritted her teeth. Clenching her fingers, she felt the steel bench crumple beneath her strength.

  Laughter whispered up from her chest as she straightened. Joy swept through her as she balled her hands into fists, feeling their power.

  Then her ears twitched, as somewhere in the room, something whimpered. The Chead stilled, and she felt again the ache in her stomach, the rage in her chest. Slowly she looked around, taking in the plain steel benches and strange contraptions that filled the room she had woken in. From somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice whispered to her.

  Laboratory.

  Then her eyes found the pitiful creatures huddling in the corner. They watched her with wide eyes, scrambling over one another to escape her gaze. Their fear was heavy in the air, a rich, savoury scent that made her stomach rumble. Opening her mouth, the Chead tasted it on her tongue, and felt her anger respond.

  Grinning, the Chead stepped towards them, and watched as they flinched. She laughed then, ecstasy filling her as she feasted on their terror. But it was not enough – not nearly enough. In two steps, she closed the distance between them.

  The one unlucky enough to be standing at the front tried to dash past her. But the creature moved with slow, ungainly steps, and she reached out and caught it easily. Her fist closed on its wrist, and with a wrench of her arm she hauled it back. The creature’s feet gave way and it fell to its knees.

  “Susan, please no!” its voice grated on her ea
rs, and reaching out she grabbed it by the throat.

  The creature gave a strangled cry as she lifted it into the air and hurled it at the wall. A sharp crack echoed through the room as it struck, and she grinned as the creature slumped against the floor unmoving. Laughter whispered from the Chead’s lips as she turned to face the remaining creatures.

  The laughter went on and on as she stepped into their ranks. Some tried to flee, racing across the room in a desperate attempt to escape. But her brother barred their path, flinging them back into the room with laughter of his own. He did nothing else to interfere, only stood and watched as she had her fun.

  Others begged like the first, but their cries died in their throat as she tore them apart. Some called her Susan, others doctor, but the words were unfamiliar, and their pitiful screams only fuelled her rage. She drank in the sound of their terror, feasting on the tang of blood, and roared, drunk with her newfound power.

  When it was over, and even the dying moans of the pitiful creatures had fallen silent, the Chead finally grew still. Licking her lips, she savoured the metallic tang of their life blood. It covered her clothes, her face, her hair, covered everything in the room. Her nostrils flared as she breathed in its scent.

  Slowly the red began to fade, her bloodlust sated, and images rose from the depths of her mind. She saw the faces of the creatures strewn around her, their lips twisted in smiles, their eyes filled with laughter. She saw the man who had died first offering his hand, welcoming her, and others leading her down the long white corridors, showing her to her room.

  Susan stumbled backwards, her feet slipping in the slick blood covering the linoleum floor. The breath caught in her throat, and she grabbed at the bench, desperate to stay standing. Looking down, she saw the blood covering her clothes. Her stomach wrenched and she tasted bile in the back of her throat.

  Choking, Susan struggled to hold down the contents of her stomach. But there was no escaping the blood. It filled the room, lingering in her nostrils, on her tongue.

  “No!” the word tore from her lips.

  She gasped, a scream building in her throat as she struggled to breath. Her eyes swept the room, and found the cold grey eyes of the Chead watching her.

  “What did you do?” she screamed.

  But she knew this had not been its doing. Hecate had never left his post, only watched with the same quiet satisfaction he watched her with now. This had been her doing, her slaughter. She had torn through her fellow doctors like death itself, joying in their fear, their agony as she ripped flesh from bone.

  “No…” she whispered, shaking her head. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked at Hecate. “What have you done to me?”

  A smile spread across the creature’s face as it stepped towards her. Reaching out a hand, it placed it on her shoulder.

  “Now, you are one of us,” Hecate whispered.

  Before Susan could reply, the red haze rose again to claim her.

  CHAPTER 19

  Liz paced down the corridor, her long strides eating up the distance in half a dozen steps. Reaching the end, she spun and set off back down the hall. Her wings stretched out to either side of her, as far as the narrow walls would allow. The muscles in her back spasmed, stiff from the long days of disuse, but she kept on. Up and down she walked, stretching and folding her wings, doing her best to work the nots from her muscles.

  It was not enough, of course, and though she had only had the strange limbs a few weeks, she longed to take to the sky. There was a recklessness inside her, a need to escape the confines of the safe house and soar amongst the skyscrapers and hills of San Francisco.

  Instead, she and the others had found themselves locked away, under strict orders from Mike and the other managers of the safehouse to remain indoors. That meant no midnight flights, not even an afternoon stroll through the suburbs. After their weeks spent in the mountains and plains of California, the restrictions were quickly driving her insane.

  It didn’t help that she had spent the past week dodging Chris. She could see the hurt in his eyes each time she spurned him. It matched the pain in her own heart, but she couldn’t bring herself to wound him further. Then there was Ashley, who had apparently decided to shun them all. Liz had done her best to console Sam, who was mostly confined to his bed while his leg healed. Mira was finally awake, and despite their best efforts to keep her in bed, had taken to wandering the house at strange hours. Several of the guards had already complained about her scaring them half to death in the middle of the night.

  And Jasmine, well, she had at least calmed down since the incident in Independence Square. But she was going as mad as Liz, locked away in the house.

  Worst of all, there still hadn’t been any word from the Texan. It had been over a week since he’d left with Mira’s feather. Maria and the other managers of the house had expected him back by now, although they still insisted everything was okay. Maria had known Mike for months now, and apparently it wasn’t unusual for him to drop off the radar.

  And so they waited, trapped in the house. During the day, they took turns watching the television, waiting for news of the attack in Independence Square to surface. The government had been tight lipped so far, suppressing all details while they ‘investigated’. But with so many people involved, even the corrupt reporters for the news agencies had started asking questions. Unfortunately, the days when everyone had a smartphone in their pocket had ended when stocks of Gallium and other rare earth metals ran out. Thirty years ago, a dozen videos of the attack would have surfaced by now, but so far there had been nothing.

  Ahead, a door opened and Liz drew to a stop as Ashley walked into the hallway. The girl’s lips were drawn back in a scowl and she stood with her arms crossed, one eyebrow raised.

  “Do you have to do that?” Ashley asked, her voice sharp.

  Shifting her weight to lean against the wall, Liz folded her wings and eyed the taller girl. Staring into Ashley’s amber eyes, Liz struggled to pierce the veil the girl had cast over herself. The girl standing in front of her was so different from the Ashley she’d known back in the facility. That Ashley had always seemed so perfect, as though the darkness could not touch her. Even in the mountains, with bullets flying all around them, Ashley had kept her cool.

  Yet back in Independence Square, Ashley had frozen.

  “Sorry, were you sleeping?” Liz finally replied in a whisper.

  Ashley’s white wings stretched out behind her, the feathers standing on end. “Of course I was sleeping!” she snapped, “It’s 3am!”

  “Oh!” Liz glanced at the clock on the wall, surprised she’d lost track of time, “Sorry, I didn’t realise.”

  “Of course not,” Ashley snorted, her eyes flashing, “Why would you?”

  Liz raised her arms in surrender, unwilling to say anything that might provoke Ashley further. Shaking her head, Ashley turned and stalked back towards her room.

  “What happened to you, Ashley?” Liz asked without thinking.

  Ashley paused in her doorway, one hand on the wooden frame. With her back turned, Liz could not see her face, but her feathers quivered, standing on end to tangle with her scarlet hair. Her shoulders started to shake, and suddenly Liz realised Ashley was crying.

  Liz was at her side in an instant. Reaching out, she gently rubbed the small of her back. She had taken to wearing long sleeves and thin woollen gloves, but she was still careful not to touch Ashley’s skin. After a moment, Ashley looked back at her, her eyes red.

  “I don’t know, Liz,” Ashley’s voice shook, “I’m terrified… of everything. I feel so helpless, so useless, like every bad thing that happens is my fault.”

  “That’s not true,” Liz gripped her by the chin and forced Ashley to look at her, “You know that.”

  But Ashley only shook her head. Breaking free of Liz’s grip, she leaned against the wall and slid to the ground. Hugging her knees to herself, she went on.

  “You don’t know what it was like, after you escaped. Halt
had me so drugged up, I couldn’t do anything to stop him. My…my mind was so muddled…the things he did, they’re still coming back to me, even now. Every night I go to sleep, and I remember something new, some fresh, horrible thing he did to me while I was helpless in that hospital bed. It’s like he’s waiting for me, every night…” her voice cracked, “And then there’s what Sam did… for me. I can’t bear it.”

  Liz shivered. Staring down at Ashley, she could only begin to imagine what vile things Halt might have done to her in retaliation for their escape. Taking a breath, she crouched beside Ashley and hugged her as best she could.

  “Come on,” she said finally. Pulling back, she nodded down the corridor. “You need some fresh air.”

  “But…” Ashley trailed off, and Liz saw the fear in her eyes.

  “No,” Liz gripped her under the arm and hauled Ashley to her feet, “Don’t think it, don’t say it. It’s dark. There’s no one looking for us out here, not at this time of night. We’ll be fine. Sitting around stewing isn’t doing you any good.”

  With that, Liz set off down the hallway, dragging the other girl with her.

  Taking care to avoid the man on watch, they slipped out the back window into the garden, where a scattering of trees offered shelter from anyone who might have been watching. The last hint of Ashley’s injury had faded days ago, and while she’d had less practice than the rest of them, Ashley still managed to get airborne with only a short run across the grass. Her white wings clipped the treetops as she lifted from the yard, then she was free.

  Liz laughed as she looked back and saw the grin on Ashley’s face. Stretching her wings, she drifted sideways, allowing the other girl to catch up. As they drew side by side, their wings stretched out to brush against one another, black on white. The lights of the houses fell away beneath them as they rose higher, the strong San Francisco winds sending them soaring.