by Aaron Hodges
“What is…your name?” Susan whispered, moving forward until her face was just an inch from the prisoner’s.
The woman swallowed, her eyes darting around the room before returning to Susan.
“My name…my name is Jane.” The woman swallowed, barely getting out the words. “How…?”
“Jane…” Talisa murmured, ignoring the question. “Do you wish to live?”
The woman moaned, looking from Talisa to Susan. For a moment it seemed she would bolt for the door, but finally her shoulders sagged and she shook her head.
“I don’t want to die,” she said, the words barely audible.
The soft laughter of the Chead whispered around the room. Holding up the syringe, Susan offered it to the woman. “Then join us.”
The colour slowly drained from Jane’s face as she stared at the syringe. The clear liquid inside gleamed in the moonlight streaming through the slits in the ceiling. The other Chead stood in silence, watching with their cold grey eyes, waiting.
Jane started to back away, but Susan’s hand whipped out to catch her by the shirt, and she came up short. Jane shook her head, her mouth gaping, still trying to break free, but no words came out.
“Is that your final…answer?” Susan asked softly.
A tremor passed across Jane’s face, and a single tear slid down her cheek. Her eyes flickered to the syringe again, then back to Susan.
“Please…” Jane whispered.
“There is only…one answer,” Susan replied.
She tightened her grip around the woman’s shirt, and pulled her closer. Baring her teeth, a rough growl rumbled up from Susan’s chest. She could see the woman’s terror, that she was on the brink of sheer panic. If she cracked, if she gave in to it, she was worthless to them. The Chead needed to be strong, to cast off the weakness of humanity, not continue its follies.
“Don’t do it, Jane!” a voice echoed through the warehouse as one of the captives stood. “They’re m–”
Whatever she’d been about to say ended abruptly as Hecate sprang forward. Faster than thought, he caught her by the throat, lifted her into the air, and hurled her into the wall. She managed a brief, blood-curdling scream, before she slammed headfirst into a steel beam. A sickening crack came from her skull as she slumped to the ground.
The prisoners screamed and scrambled back from Hecate as he turned to look at them.
“Silence!” Talisa’s voice cut through the high-pitched cries.
As one, the voices died away. The prisoners turned to stare at Talisa, their eyes wide, mouths open. Not one of them made a move as the old Chead’s gaze passed over them. A long moment stretched out before Talisa nodded for Susan to resume.
Smiling, Susan looked at Jane. “What is…your choice?”
Jane swallowed visibly. Her eyes were red from crying, but she didn’t hesitate now. Reaching out a trembling hand, she took the syringe, and plunged it into her arm. Susan waited until she pressed the plunger, sending the virus whirling into her bloodstream, before releasing her. Smiling, she stroked the hair from the woman’s face. Jane shivered and bowed her head, trying not to cry, but Susan reached beneath her chin and lifted her head so they were face to face.
“Welcome, Jane.”
A Chead stepped up beside them then, and gently led Jane across the room. They only made it a few steps before Jane crumpled to the ground and began to scream. Reaching down, the Chead carried her the rest of the way, even as the girl thrashed in his grip. Her gut-wrenching shrieks were loud enough to rattle the walls of the barn, but Susan ignored them. Turning to the remaining prisoners, she stepped towards them.
“So, who’s next?”
Chapter 9
“So, just the girls tonight?”
Liz looked up from the sofa at Jasmine’s voice. The other girl stood leaning against the doorway, a smile on her face as she surveyed the room. Liz was sitting on the couch with Mira beside her, a worn book cradled in one hand. The title read ‘1984’, which hardly seemed relevant in 2052. She had been trying to read it for half an hour, but with Sam out on his mission to bring back the doctor’s family, her mind was elsewhere, and she had hardly managed a couple of pages.
Shaking her head, she forced a smile she did not feel. “I guess so.”
Wandering into the lounge, Jasmine took a seat on the couch across from Liz. “You still don’t think it’s a good idea, do you?”
Sighing, Liz shrugged. “No, but there’s not much I can do about it.” She eyed Jasmine for a moment and then went on. “What about you? I’m surprised you haven’t torn his head from his shoulders yet, after what they did to Richard.”
Liz felt a pleasant sense of satisfaction when Jasmine looked away. Shame quickly rose to swamp it. She bit her lip. “Sorry,” she murmured, “I didn’t need to bring him into it.”
Jasmine sighed. “It’s amazing how much they still affect us.” She pulled her knees up to her chest and looked across at Liz. “I can still hear his voice sometimes, whispering to me.”
“What does he say?”
They both looked around at Mira. She had sat up on the couch, her dual-coloured eyes looking at each of them in turn.
“Mostly the opposite of what I’ve been doing,” Jasmine laughed. Then the smile fell from her face. “I think he’d want me to run, to take you and anyone else who’ll come and leave the city, before it’s too late,” she shrugged, “Or maybe that’s just my subconscious talking.”
Silently, Mira got up off the couch and went to sit beside Jasmine. Snuggling in beneath Jasmine’s arm, she looked around the room.
“But I like it here,” Mira murmured.
Liz hardly heard the girl. She sat staring at a hole in the plasterboard, remembering the green-eyed Richard. He had said more than once that they should do just as Jasmine said. But then, at the end he’d done the opposite. Instead of running from danger, he’d charged straight at it, sacrificing his life for theirs.
Shifting on the couch, Liz stretched her wings, feeling the pain beginning in her back. She would need to go for a midnight flight soon, or the muscles would begin to cramp and spasm.
“I don’t know what Chris would want anymore,” Liz said finally. “Not really. I don’t hear him, don’t see him. It’s like he was never here.”
“Maybe that’s just your mind’s way of protecting yourself,” Jasmine offered.
Mira shifted on the couch and looked across at Liz. “He wouldn’t want you to die,” she said softly.
Liz opened her mouth, and then closed it again as a something caught in her throat. Swallowing hard, she shook her head, trying to keep them from seeing her tears.
“She’s right you know,” Jasmine said. “He wouldn’t agree with you going off alone like you’re some one-woman army.”
Liz looked back at her. “You’re one to talk,” she scowled.
“I know I’m a hypocrite,” Jasmine replied slowly. “But that was before we met the Mad women. Before I saw just how far they will go to make things right. Before their courage gave me hope,” she shook her head and when looked at Liz, there was fire in her eyes. “They don’t have wings or super strength. They can’t heal from bullet wounds in a matter of weeks. They aren’t strong enough to fight back when the soldiers come for them. But they’re out there anyway, marching, fighting for a better future.”
“And they’re losing, dying by dozen, because of it,” Liz shot back.
“Yes,” Jasmine said, her eyes shining, “But unlike us, they have a choice. They could stay at home, and live out the rest of their lives in peace if they wanted. But they’re not, and that gives me hope others might do the same. Then maybe, just maybe, that means we might have a future.”
“It’s too little, too late though, isn’t it?” Liz asked sadly. “The government is all but untouchable.” She leaned back in the sofa and eyed the other girl.
“Maybe, but better late than never,” Jasmine replied half-heartedly.
Liz snorted. “I suppose you f
eel the same way about the doctor?”
Jasmine looked away at that. “He’ll face justice, eventually.”
“Not if Sam’s caught. Not if we’re all killed. He’ll be praised as a hero,” Liz snapped.
At that, Jasmine shivered and looked away. A tear dripped down her cheek, quickly wiped away, but not before Liz had seen. Liz frowned and bit her lip, wondering what she’d said to upset her usually staunch friend.
“What’s wrong, Jas?” she asked softly.
Standing, she moved across and sat down beside Jasmine. On her other side, Mira seemed to have drifted off to sleep, apparently bored by all their talk of rebellion and the government. Reaching out a gloved hand, Liz squeezed Jasmine’s shoulder.
Jasmine’s eyes were brimming with tears when she looked back at her. “I don’t want to lose anyone else, Liz,” she croaked. “I know you loved Chris, I know Sam loved Ash…but they were my friends too, and now you three are all I have left.”
“Jas…” Liz said, struggling to speak through her own tears.
Shaking her head, Jasmine hiccupped and forced a smile. “Why do girl’s nights always end in tears?” she laughed, but the grief was still there. She swallowed and continued in a soft voice. “Just, swear to me you’ll be careful, Liz. I don’t want to lose you, one way or another.”
“I swear,” Liz whispered back, though she wasn’t sure if she could keep the promise. If tomorrow she had the Director in her sights, if she had the chance to end the woman once and for all, she would take it, even if it meant giving up her life in the process.
“Knock, knock,” Liz and Jasmine looked up as Maria stepped into the doorway.
Liz swallowed as the old woman’s eyes swept around the room, taking in the sleeping Mira and Jasmine’s tear-streaked face, before settling on Liz. The two of them had hardly spoken over the past few weeks—not since Liz had told her of Chris’s death. It was as though the pain of their shared loss was too much, as though the weight together would crush them.
Or, if Liz was honest with herself, it was because she had been afraid to face the woman. Strong as Maria was, Chris’s death had almost broken her. And however much Liz told herself otherwise, she couldn’t help but feel responsible. After all, she had left him behind, had turned her back and fled while Chris and Ashley had fought to the death.
“Liz,” Maria said softly, pulling Liz from her inward spiral, “A word?”
Holding her breath, Liz glanced at the others, and then nodded. Standing, she followed Maria out into the corridor.
Chapter 10
Sam sighed as he reversed a chair and sat down. Leaning his arms against the backrest, he looked across at the terrified family huddled together on the white leather sofa. The doctor’s wife sat in the middle, her two young children clutched tightly against her sides. The boys were sobbing, but only quietly. The presence of men with guns and a boy with wings had terrified them half out of their minds, and they seemed to have lost their voice.
We should have brought the doctor, Sam thought to himself.
But Maria had immediately vetoed that option when he’d suggested it. If the man was telling the truth, he was too important to risk. Especially with the government no doubt aware by now he was missing. The men Harry had sent to scout out the condominium hadn’t seen any suspicious activity, but even so, they had to assume someone was watching. That meant quietly breaking into the parking garage after dark to allow them access to the elevators, while Sam had surveyed the building from above.
They had made it inside without trouble, but their first miss-step had come when the men broke down the front door to the woman’s apartment. The men had charged inside before Sam could object, rifles at the ready, as though they were storming a terrorist hideout.
Too much television. Even now, Sam couldn’t help but shake his head.
It had taken precious minutes just to calm the woman down enough so she would sit quietly on the couch. He just hoped the neighbours hadn’t heard her ear-splitting shrieks.
Now, sitting in the chair watching the little family, Sam couldn’t help but glance out the fourteenth story window. Anxiety gnawed at his stomach, and he half expected a helicopter to appear, machine gun at the ready. But the night sky remained empty, and turning back to the family on the couch, he cleared his throat.
“Look, I’m sorry about the door. My friends here were just a bit over eager,” he scowled at the four men, “but as we’ve already said, your husband sent us.”
The woman’s eyes flickered in his direction, lingering on his half-folded wings before drifting back to his face. She swallowed. “I…I know you. You…you work for the government.”
Sam bit back a curse. It seemed his involuntary media appearance a month ago would never cease to haunt him. Since then, he’d become a household face—synonymous with the government and their war on the Chead. A symbol of hope, of the strength and bravery of their hallowed President.
Never mind that Sam had only been there to save Ashley, or that the government had actually created the Chead.
“Yes…no…look, it’s a long story, alright? Here, your husband wrote you a note, see?” He handed over a piece of paper. “You recognise his handwriting?”
The woman stared at the outstretched piece of paper as though it might bite her. Finally, she reached out and took it, scanned over the words, and then folded it up and put it in her pocket.
“How do I know he wasn’t forced to write this?” she said softly.
“You don’t,” Sam replied. Concentrating on his back, Sam spread his copper wings, so they stretched out across the room, brushing the kitchen benchtop and almost knocking a lamp off the table. “But he must have told you what he does? Some of what he’s seen? You know the truth, or parts of it. The question now is, will you choose what’s right, or what’s easy?”
The woman slowly shook her head. “I haven’t seen my husband in weeks…” she murmured, “Not since we moved here, and he started work in his new…laboratory.”
Sam narrowed his eyes, catching the pause. “He hasn’t been back here?”
“No,” the woman pursed her lips, glancing at the children on either side of her. “My boys…what happens if we go with you?”
“They will be protected,” Sam reassured her, “Trust me, enough children have suffered at their hands. I’ll die before I let anything happen to them.”
The woman studied him for another moment before nodding. She stood, bringing the children with her, although they still held on desperately to her skirts. One looked to be around twelve, the other a few years younger. Their scared brown eyes watched him cautiously from beneath mops of blonde hair.
“How much time do we have?” the woman asked.
“None,” the man Harry had selected to lead the team moved across the room, rifle held at the ready, “We’ve already wasted enough time–”
“Enough, James” Sam spoke over the man’s words. Getting to his feet, he stood in front of the man, a smile tugging at his lips. At six-foot-five, Sam towered over him. “Call the van, have them drive up to the parking garage. By the time they’re in place, we’ll be in the elevator down. Trust me.”
James scowled at him, clearly upset at being overruled, but he finally nodded and turned away. Reaching for the radio on his belt, he began speaking into the transmitter.
Smiling, Sam turned back to the woman and her children. Despite his calm words, he was aware of the time ticking away. He glanced out the window again, wondering where the watchers were. Surely they wouldn’t have left the doctor’s family unguarded?
“Grab your things, quickly,” he said finally. Across the room, James looked up from the radio and held up five fingers. “You’ve got five minutes,” Sam added.
The kids looked from him to their mother, eyes uncertain until she smiled and nodded her permission. Not needing to be told twice, they fled into their bedroom. One of the men made to follow, until a look from Sam stopped him in his tracks.
“
Leave the gun,” Sam said. The man was right about keeping an eye on them, but even he didn’t feel safe with all the guns being waved around.
“They won’t be long,” the woman straightened and started towards the second bedroom, “My name’s Jocelyn by the way. I’d better pack a few things for myself.”
Sam followed close on her heels as she moved into the bedroom. If he didn’t trust the kids, he certainly wasn’t going to trust the woman by herself. One phone call was all it would take to bring the government’s wrath down on them. Liz and the others had already made that mistake once, and he wasn’t about to make it again.
“He talks about you, you know,” Sam looked up as Jocelyn’s voice carried across the room. She had pulled a duffel bag from the closet and was busy stuffing clothes inside. “After we saw you on the TV. He couldn’t believe someone had actually pulled it off. He’d been trying for ten years…” she trailed off with a shrug.
Sam frowned. “Do you know where he worked?”
Jocelyn laughed. “As I said, I haven’t heard from him since he started the new job,” she pulled a jacket from the closet and shoved it in the bag, but Sam thought he detected a strained note to her voice.
“There wasn’t even a hint of where they were taking him?” he pressed.
Looking up, her lips stretched in a wide smile. “Not a word,” she bent her head back to the task of shoving the jacket into the duffel bag, “What about you? Where are the Mad Women planning on hiding us?”
Sam shook his head. He started to answer, before breaking off with a frown. “How do you know about the Mad Women?” he asked sharply.
Beside her bed, Jocelyn stilled. Looking up, she gave a nervous laugh. “You mentioned them out in the living room, remember?”
Shaking his head, Sam took a step towards her. “I don’t think so…”
Jocelyn’s eyes flickered around the room as though searching for an escape route. The master bed took up most of the space, coupled with a heavy wooden dresser pushed against the far wall. A wide inset window took up the other wall, revealing the pitch black of the night’s sky. There were no stars out tonight, and the city was dark. Curfew had started hours ago, and only the richest neighbourhoods were allowed to use electricity at this hour.
