by Aaron Hodges
Outside, silence resumed, and Chris cast a quick glance behind him at the Director. She still stood at the computer, fists clenched, face pale as she watched the screen. Jonathan hid behind the camera equipment, eyes wide. Chris wondered why he hadn’t fled with the film crew. It was too late now, not that Chris would mind throwing the man to the wolves outside. If only he could do the same with the Director.
As he turned back to the entrance, the metal door suddenly exploded inwards. He leapt back as the steel panels slammed into the concrete wall. Recovering, he straightened and spread his wings as an intruder stepped inside. Baring his teeth, he hurled himself forward.
And froze as the light revealed Liz’s shocked face.
“Liz!” her name left him in a rush.
She stared back at him, her curly black hair in wild tangles, her big blue eyes wide, mouth hanging open. She had frozen in the doorway, same as him. They stood watching each other as though they’d both just seen a ghost.
“Chris,” she whispered. Tears brimmed in her eyes.
Blinking, Chris stepped towards her. He stretched out a hand, and then paused, as the awful bite of reality struck him. Shaking his head, he retreated from her, bitter bile rising in his throat. Liz watched him go, eyes wide, the light in them turning to confusion. With his wings spread, she could not see what waited behind him.
She could not see the man he had murdered.
Or the woman he had betrayed her too.
“Don’t move,” the Director’s sharp voice cut through the room as Chris staggered back.
He froze at her voice, even as Liz tensed and started forward again.
“I said, don’t move!” the Director shrieked.
This time Liz stopped. Glancing back, Chris saw the Director standing beside Mike’s chair. She held a handgun pointed at Liz’s chest.
“Good girl,” a smile twitched on her lips as she moved to stand beside Chris, “Elizabeth Flores. So you’re the one who’s been causing all the excitement.”
“Not just her.” Chris’s heart lurched in his chest as his grandmother stepped through the doorway, gun outstretched. She calmly pointed it at the Director’s head. “Put it down, witch.”
“You first, old woman,” the Director laughed, “After all, I’m sure you don’t want to kill your grandson.”
“What?” His grandmother scowled, her arm wavering.
Lowering her gun, the Director tapped the watch on her arm. “If I die, the collar around Chris’s neck will him,” she looked from Maria to Liz, “I don’t think any of us wants that, do we?”
Liz and Maria shared a glance, and then Maria slowly lowered her gun. Smiling, the Director stepped forward and took it from his grandmother’s limp fingers. Maria’s shoulders slumped as she released the weapon, as though her will had gone with the gun.
“There, isn’t that better?” Gun in each hand, the Director wandered across to where Mike lay slumped in his wheelchair. Turning back, she waved to the newcomers. “Come in, come in, you remember Mike, don’t you? I’m afraid he’s not feeling too talkative today.”
Chris lowered his gaze as Liz and Maria edged cautiously into the room. Mike was no longer moving. His face had turned a pallid grey, and his lips a sickly blue. There was no doubt now—he was dead.
“Oh, Mike,” Chris heard his grandmother whisper.
“You!” Liz growled. Chris looked up in time to see her step towards Jonathan. She froze as the Director aimed a gun at her face, but her eyes never left Jonathan. “How could you let her do this to him?” she demanded, her voice livid.
Jonathan didn’t move from where he hid behind the camera equipment, but he slowly shook his head. “Let her?” he looked from Liz to Chris, “Why don’t you ask him how the Texan died?”
Liz’s eyes found his. “Chris?” she whispered, taking a step towards him.
Chris quickly backed away from her, unable to look her in the eye. “You shouldn’t have come here, Liz,” he murmured.
“I thought you were dead,” Liz whispered, “What happened to you?”
Chris swallowed as a desperate yearning wrapped around his chest. He wanted to go to her, to kiss her, to hold her in his arms again. He saw again her blue eyes as he told her to flee, to leave him and save herself. Not even in Chris’s direst dreams had he hoped to see her again. Yet here she was, and he had nothing left to offer her.
Laughing, the Director strode across the room to join him. Lifting a hand, she pulled him to her. He shuddered as their lips met, unable to resist. When she pulled away, he lowered his eyes to avoid looking at Liz.
“He’s mine now,” the Director mocked.
“No,” Liz’s voice was no more than a whisper, “Chris, look at me. Whatever she’s done to you, it’s over. We’re getting you out of here.”
Chris wanted more than anything to believe her. But as he moved, the collar seemed to tighten around his throat, reminding him of his fate. There was nothing they could do to help him.
And there was nothing he could do to help her.
“It seems we have a second renegade to execute,” the Director was laughing again.
“Vile witch,” Chris’s grandmother said sharply, “You think you’ve won? You think you can just get away with murdering innocent people, with torturing children?” She stepped towards the Director, but froze as the woman pointed a gun at her. Shaking her head, Maria went on. “They’ll find out the truth—you can’t keep it from them forever.”
“And what would this truth of yours be, old woman?” the Director asked with a grin.
“That you created the Chead to control us. That you murdered widows and innocent students to hide the truth,” Maria growled.
“I did,” the Director laughed, “But you have no proof, old woman.”
For half a second, Maria’s eyes flickered to Liz. Quickly looking away, she bowed her head. “It’s out there. It’s only a matter of time before it comes out. When it does, your President’s regime will crumble. Your reign will come to an end. Sooner or later, justice will come for you.”
The Director did not reply. She stood staring down the barrel of her gun at Maria, eyebrows knitted together in a frown. Slowly she turned the gun on Liz. “Ms Flores, please turn out your pockets,” she ordered.
Liz’s face paled and she retreated a step. The Director stepped after her. “Jonathan, if you’d be so kind as to search the girl?” she snapped. Her eyes never left Liz.
With the wall behind her, Liz had nowhere left to go. She glared at Jonathan as he stepped up beside her, but made no move to resist as he rummaged through her pockets. It only took him a couple of seconds for him to find the pendrive. Chris’s heart plummeted into his stomach as the man lifted it up for the Director to see.
“I’ll take that,” the Director said, holding out her hand.
As Jonathan handed it over, she dropped it on the ground and smashed it beneath her boot.
“No!” Liz breathed. There were tears in her eyes as she looked away.
“Glad we got that loose thread taken care of,” moving back to Maria, she grinned, “I take it you didn’t have the resources to make a copy of Professor McKenzie’s work? No? Excellent!”
“It doesn’t matter,” Maria replied, though her voice was thick with despair, “The truth will still come out.”
The Director shrugged. “One day, maybe,” she smirked, “By then it’ll be far too late. Soon we’ll have an army of creatures just like your grandson here, ready and willing to obey our every command. Then it won’t matter what you sheep think. You’ll all do as you’re told, or die.”
“Witch,” his grandmother repeated. Before she could say anything else, the Director stepped up and slammed the butt of the pistol into her face. Maria crumpled to the ground with a soft cry.
“I’ve heard enough,” she growled. Lifting the handgun, she pointed it at Maria’s head. “For obvious reasons, you’re going to have to die off camera, Maria.”
Chris’s heart froze in hi
s chest. His grandmother had gone completely still now. She crouched on the ground, staring up at the gun, her eyes sad. The rest of the room looked on, helpless to intervene.
“Go on then,” Maria said softly, “Do it. Show everyone here how powerful you are, how you can murder a defenceless old woman in cold blood.”
A twisted smile crossed the Director’s face. “Gladly.”
“No!” Chris’s screamed as a gunshot echoed through the transmission room.
Chapter 27
Reaching through the bars, Sam pulled Ashley into an awkward hug. He still couldn’t believe his eyes, could hardly trust the feeling of her thin frame beneath his fingers. She had lost a lot of weight since he’d seen her last. Her ribs stood out against the thin cotton shirt she was wearing, and her face was pale and drawn. A dozen white feathers were scattered around the floor of her cell, and there were patches of skin showing on her wings.
But none of that mattered just then. Despite everything he’d believed, everything he’d convinced himself of, Ashley was alive. Leaning in, he kissed her through the bars, the cold steel pressing against his cheeks as their lips met. He breathed in the scent of her, savouring the familiar taste of her tongue.
When they finally broke apart, they were both panting for breath. The screams of the Chead still echoed around them, but Sam only had eyes for Ashley. He held her arms, staring into her amber eyes, seeing the pain there, but also recognising hope. Hope that her torment was almost at an end.
“You’re alive,” he whispered.
Reaching up, he cupped her cheek and pulled her in for another kiss. She trembled beneath his fingers, and Sam shivered as her hands went around his waist. Their tongues danced as their lips pressed hard against one another.
There were tears in Ashley’s eyes as they separated. Reaching up, she angrily brushed them away. She hiccupped and then shook her head. “What…what’s that thing on your face?”
Sam grinned and rubbed his beard. “You don’t like it?” then he sighed and closed his eyes. “I thought you were gone, Ash.”
He fought back tears as her hand stroked his cheek. “I’m here, Sam. I’m safe.”
A sob tore from Sam’s throat. For the past four weeks he had suffered with the knowledge he’d lost her, had cursed and berated himself for not going with her to the university, for not being there to save her.
“What happened here, Ash?” he asked when he finally regained his composure.
A tremor swept through Ashley. Her eyes drifted past him, to where the Chead still raged in their cages.
“They messed with the virus,” she whispered, “It killed more than half of them in the first few hours. Then today…” she trailed off, voice breaking.
Sam cupped her cheek, offering his silent comfort, knowing she would go on in her own time.
Finally, Ashley sucked in a breath. “The Director was impatient. She didn’t test them like Halt did with us, just ordered the doctors to administer the virus to all of them. Those who survived the first few hours…” she swallowed and shook her head, “They weren’t strong enough, Sam. In the night they started going mad, throwing themselves around their cells, screaming about voices in their heads. I tried to help them, but one by one they either succumbed to the Chead, or…or mutated.”
Sam nodded grimly. Images of the deformed bodies had been burned into the back of his skull. Then another thought occurred to him. “Where’s Chris?” He looked around, half-expecting to see his friend in one of the other cells.
“He’s…in trouble, Sam,” Ashley’s voice drew his gaze back to her, “She’s broken him. I don’t know what she’s going to make him do.”
Sam frowned. Chris had always been so strong, Sam couldn’t imagine him giving in to the vile woman. “What do you mean?”
“You’ll see,” Ashley started looking around her cell, searching for a way out, “I don’t know how to open these things. I think they’re controlled remotely.”
Sam nodded. He looked at the watch he’d taken from the doctor and started tapping through the menus. His spare hand dangled between the bars, and Ashley took it in hers. Lifting it to her lips, she kissed it, eyes fixed on the control watch.
“So, they missed you at the safehouse, Samuel,” Sam jumped as a crackling voice erupted from overhead.
Releasing Ashley’s hand, he spun, seeking out the voice’s owner, but he was still alone in the corridor. On the ceiling, he spotted a camera as it swivelled in his direction. He glanced back at Ashley. They both recognised the voice.
“Honestly, I thought you’d be dead by now,” the President’s voice came again, clearer this time. “Especially with those dreadful radio broadcasts. Stefanie has a lot of explaining to do.”
Sam smiled. He’d chosen to broadcast from the top of the monument for just that reason. Sure, they could track him to Independence Square. But with thousands of people cramming the grounds below, he became like a needle in a haystack.
“Still, I’m glad,” the President continued, “I never had the chance to thank you for helping me win back the public.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” Sam’s anger flared and he spun on the spot, half-expecting the man to pop out of some hidden corner, “Come out and face me!”
Laughter crackled over the speakers. “Oh, Samuel, if only I could properly thank you for everything you’ve done. Alas, I’m presently engaged elsewhere.”
Sam paused. “You’re not even here?” A cold chill spread up his spine as he shared a glance with Ashley.
“Of course not. I have a country to govern. I can’t spend all my time hiding under some old rock.”
“Well, wherever you are, I hope your guards are better than the bozos you employed here,” he pointed at the ceiling, “Because I’m coming for you next.”
In her cell, Ashley pressed herself up against the bars and looked at the camera. “Aww, did the big bad President get cold feet?” she called mockingly, “Did I scare you away?”
Silence met her taunts, and Sam flashed her a glance. Don’t piss him off, he mouthed, but she only shrugged.
“I’m disappointed the Director did not deal with you as promised, Ashley” the President said after a long pause, “I suppose it’s up to me to ensure you are adequately disciplined.”
Ice spread through Sam’s stomach, but Ashley was undeterred. “Do your worst,” she laughed, “Wherever you are.”
This time silence answered her defiance. Before either of them could think of another taunt, a buzzer sounded, and all along the corridor the prison cells rattled open. Standing in her cell, Ashley blinked. She stared at the open door for a moment before stepping hesitantly from the cell.
“Some punishment,” she muttered.
Sam didn’t respond. He was busy staring down the corridor, where the other inmates were emerging silently from their cells. He swallowed as the grey eyes of the Chead turned and found them standing nearby. Mad laughter carried down the corridor as their lips drew back into snarls. Growling, the Chead started towards them.
Beside him, Ashley looked up and saw them coming. She stilled, her wings trembling as she watched the Chead advance. There were maybe twelve of them in all, enough to tear both Ashley and Sam to pieces if they wanted. And from the dark glint in their eyes, there wouldn’t be any reasoning with them.
Ashley took a deep breath and glanced up at Sam. Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed him on the cheek. “Stay here. You look like you could use a rest.” She wrinkled her nose, “And you’re shaving when we’re done here.”
Closing her eyes, she took another breath. A calmness seemed to settle over her face as her eyes flickered back open. Watching her, Sam thought he saw an almost imperceptible change come over her features. Her jaw tightened as she looked at the Chead. And her eyes…staring into her eyes, Sam wanted to shudder, and pull her to him, all at the same time.
Squaring her shoulders, Ashley stepped towards the Chead. Her white wings spread out to fill the corridor, giving even the C
head pause as she strode forward. Sam watched on, frozen with indecision.
Overcoming their hesitation, the Chead started towards them again. They moved on ungainly legs, obviously still struggling to control their altered bodies. Their inexperience was Ashley’s only advantage. But with twelve of the creatures, she was still badly outmatched. It was only a matter of time before they overwhelmed her.
Shaking himself free of his fear, Sam started after Ashley. But as his boot scuffed the concrete, she shot a warning glance over her shoulder. The golden glow of her eyes brought him to an abrupt stop, and suddenly all he could do was hold his breath and watch as Ashley closed on the Chead.
With a roar, the leading Chead bounded forward. Its wild howl echoed down the corridor, and Sam yearned to leap to Ashley’s aid. Together, they might just stand a chance. Instead, he remained frozen in place, unable to break whatever impossible spell Ashley had placed over him.
Fortunately, Ashley had no need of his help.
As the creature charged, Ashley twisted, and the Chead stumbled through empty space. Before it could recover, she reached out and caught it by the back of its shirt. Hauling the creature back, she catapulted it through the air into its comrades. The other Chead leapt aside as it crashed down on the concrete with a hard thump.
The creatures stood and stared at their downed brother for a second, then turned to look back at Ashley again. Folding her arms, Ashley glared back at them, wings still spread as she contemplated each of the remaining Chead in turn.
“You’re young,” she said suddenly. Her voice echoed loudly in the corridor, “I will forgive you your insolence.”
A shiver went through the creatures as she took another step towards them. As one, they shrank back from her. She laughed, and for an instant Sam was reminded of the cold, grating laughter of the Chead.
“Get back in your cages,” Ashley snapped, “I will deal with you later.”
