by Aaron Hodges
“Myself and a few loyal souls have already begun preparations to restore order. While our armies are fractured, we will soon have the force needed to bring peace to New Mexico. We expect Arizona, California, Oregon and Washington to quickly follow.”
“In the meantime, I ask those of you who believe in this great nation to have patience. Have faith that this is not the end, that our union will win through. The chaos of today is not our fate—peace will be restored. Though our foes surround us now, their greed will be their downfall. We will prevail.”
A shiver went through Chris. Gripping the rails of his bed, he tried to sit up. The steel cuffs cut into his wrists as he strained against them, teeth clenched with rage. Hands trembling, he reached for the remote to hurl it at the television, but somehow he’d lost it in the folds of the sheets. The speakers screeched as the President continued his address.
“And to those who would oppose us, to the traitors marching in our streets, and those powers threatening our borders, I say this: defy us at your peril. Foreign acts of aggression will not be ignored. Any movement of troops across our borders will be met with immediate recourse.”
Leaning forward in his chair, the President stared through the screen, eyes alight. “I have taken refuge with the loyal soldiers at the Kirtland Airforce Base. In doing so, I alone now have command of our primary nuclear defence system. Should foreign powers seek to enter the Western Allied States, I will have no choice but to unleash these powers. Mexico City, Houston, Austin—every major urban centre you possess will be wiped from the map.”
At that the President leaned back and smiled. “And to those domestic traitors who desire my position, well, you know where I am.” He spread his hands. “I’m waiting.”
Chapter 7
The setting sun stained the skyline red as Liz drifted down towards the city. For once the San Francisco winds had died away, and she glided easily through the open air, her feathers making miniscule adjustments as the air currents shifted. Banking left, she slid between the towering skyscrapers, watching as the hills rolled up towards the peak of Independence square, and then back down towards the suburbs.
Breathing in the fresh salt air, high above the chaos, Liz struggled to relax, to forget for a few minutes about Chris and Mike, about Mira and Maria, about Jasmine dying in her hands. But it was hopeless. The ghosts of the past chased after her wherever she went.
The skyscrapers fell away as Liz soured out over the suburbs. The hills flattened out, the buildings changing to a miss-match of single storey villas and dense townhouses packed into the narrow San Francisco streets. Trees lined the sidewalks, their branches flourishing with the green of summer. A few cars dotted the roads, but most of the city’s inhabitants had retreated to their homes to wait out the night.
Liz hadn’t set out from the embassy with a purpose or destination in mind, only in the knowledge she had to get out, had to escape the narrow hallways and rooms, had to put as much distance between herself and Chris as possible.
Now though, she began to recognise the landscape below, the trees and twisting streets. With a jolt, she realised where she was going.
It didn’t take her long to reach the park. Tucking her wings against her back, Liz dropped from the sky, watching as the pine trees grew in her vision. When she was some thirty feet above the ground, her wings snapped back open, and she lurched to an abrupt mid-air stop. The muscles along her back clenched, tying themselves up in knots, but in a way the pain was welcome. At least it was real.
Touching down, she folded away her wings, grimacing at the lingering discomfort. Her eyes scanned the familiar carpark, taking in the seedy toilet block and the distant row of pines they’d spent the night camped beneath. The faintest whiff of ash drifted on the air. Steeling herself, Liz walked around the corner of the toilet block.
The breath caught in her throat as the burnt-out car came into view. Anticipation swelled in her chest. It was as though she expected to find Jasmine standing there waiting for her, eyebrow raised, foot tapping impatiently against the cold ground.
Instead, Liz found herself alone. Her gut clenched. Tears streaming down her face, she moved across to the car. A sob wrenched its way up from her stomach as she placed a hand on the blackened roof and looked through the shattered window.
The flames had licked the old sedan clean, melting the paint from the exterior and leaving the steel frame a twisted wreak. The backseat where she’d laid Jasmine down and said her goodbyes was bare. There was nothing more than a pile of ash where her friend had been. It was as if Jasmine had never been.
A wave of nausea struck Liz. Staggering sideways, she dropped to one knee. Panting for breath, her vision blurring with tears, she grabbed at the car to steady herself. Her stomach cramped, and she groaned as her legs turned to jelly. Sitting down hard, she pulled her knees up to her chest and leaned her head back against the car.
“You were right, Jas,” she whispered, her eyes fixed on the empty asphalt. “We should have listened to Richard, back in the mountains. We should have just disappeared, run away and never looked back.”
A soft breeze blew through the carpark, rustling the leaves of a nearby tree. She waited as the breeze died away, as though somehow her words might reach through the veil and draw back a response. The last glow of the setting sun had fallen beneath the treetops. Darkness pressed in around her. But there was no response, only the calm silence of night.
Slowly Liz shook her head. “It’s all been for nothing,” she croaked. “Everything we’ve sacrificed, everything we’ve done, its only made things worse.”
Who could have imagined the truth would have such disastrous consequences? That it would turn rural on urban, that it would send the nation to the brink of civil war? In the last week, she had witnessed the true depths of humanity’s evil, had watched as society unravelled and her country reverted to mob rule.
Not that Liz could blame the refugees for their rage. After all, they were her countrymen. She had grown up alongside them, had suffered the same poverty and rampant depredation that had come after the American War. The post war depression had crippled the rural economy, bankrupting farmers across the country. With their land lost to wealthy investors from the cities, rural communities had spent the last two decades scraping a living from the pennies left to them.
Now, that brooding resentment had been set aflame by the Director’s confession.
Slowly the pains in Liz’s stomach faded away. She sucked in a breath of fresh air as her grief relaxed its iron grip. Staring into open space, Liz remembered again her fiery friend, remembered the tears they’d shed together after Richard’s sacrifice, after they’d thought Chris and Ashley lost. Despite their rocky beginning, Jasmine had become like a sister to her. More than anything, Liz regretted pushing her away in those final weeks.
She would give anything to have her here now, to talk to her about Chris. No doubt she would have ended up crying into Jasmine’s shoulder. Liz smiled at the thought. Shaking her head, she closed her eyes, and bid a final farewell to her friend. Then she placed her hands against the asphalt and pushed herself back to her feet. Brushing the stones from her gloves, she gave the burnt-out car a final glance, and turned away.
She wandered through the park, her thoughts drifting to the future. The shadow of the car hung in her mind. Silently she wondered whether she was destined for the same fate as Jasmine. They had won the battle, had defeated the Director and driven the President from the western seaboard. But the war was far from over. So long as the madman lived, he would remain a threat. The President had proven in his two decades of rule to be a man without rival. If he said he would return, Liz had no doubt he meant it.
But with the President’s finger on the button, there was little anyone could do to act against him. Anyone that is, but Liz and her friends. They were the only ones who stood a chance of getting close, the only ones powerful enough to take on whatever forces the man had gathered around himself. Yet if they did, anyone
of them could be next on the funeral pyre.
Shuddering, Liz gathered herself and leapt skyward. Her black wings beat down, sending dust swirling across the empty carpark. Airborne, she raced across the treetops, her wingtips barely missing the tallest branches. Her heart hammered in her chest, and an icy fear crept through her veins. Her wings beat faster, hurling her through the sky. The park flashed past below, then gave way suddenly to the dark waters of the harbour.
Taking a breath, Liz forced all thoughts of the future from her mind. Her heart slowed as her fear fell away. Banking in the air, she turned back towards the coast. The houses here had once been the pick of the city, golden mansions that looked out over the harbour, across to the scarlet expanse of the Golden Gate Bridge. Now they stood empty, great stone and metal monuments to the arrogance of man.
Concrete seawalls had protected them from the incremental sea level rise of the last thirty years. But it had only been a matter of time before the warming oceans brought with them the devastating hurricanes of the tropics. Hurricane Huerta had spared most of the city, but its low-pressure eye and howling winds had driven waves up above the high tide mark, smashing seawalls to pieces and sweeping through the mansions below.
With the storms only forecast to grow worse, the owners had finally abandoned their properties to the ocean. For ten years they had stood empty, their lower floors inundated, their walls crumbling to neglect and decay.
Now though, a community had sprung up overnight. The refugees who’d streamed into the city were quick to occupy any available space, and the upper levels of the mansions were untouched by the rising waters. A shantytown now packed the spaces between the buildings, as desperate souls threw up makeshift walls and corrugated iron roofs to protect themselves from the elements.
Here, finally, Liz spied people. Unlike their urban cousins, the people below had no fear of the darkness. They stood in the open, gathered around flaming barrels and spreading out into the streets beyond the shantytown. Most looked harmless, wandering the maze of crude alleyways with empty hands, eager just to go about their lives safe from the hordes of Chead roaming the countryside.
Then, as Liz drifted over the maze of crude alleyways, a scream pierced the night.
Chapter 8
Susan settled back on the soft rags and closed her eyes. The weight of five tiny bodies lay across her stomach and breasts. Their fiery heat radiated through her, reassuring her they lived, that her babies had survived. Susan could hardly believe she’d survived the ordeal herself. Yet here she was, alive and whole, basking in the warmth of her future.
Three girls and two boys.
Stones rattled, and Susan looked up to see Hecate enter their cavern. He moved through the shadows until he stood over her. His grey eyes glowing in the light of the candles, he stared down at them, unmoving.
Smiling, Susan nodded to the empty rags. A smile appeared on Hecate’s face and he quickly settled himself beside her. She shivered as he reached out and embraced her, embraced them all. Closing her eyes, her worries faded away. A soft blanket of contentment wrapped around them.
Leaning her head against Hecate’s chest, she breathed in the scent of him, of their family, their life. Settled there, she could almost forget the trauma of the past hours, almost ignore the hot cramps still wrapping around her abdomen.
“My congratulations, Hecate, Susan,” Talisa whispered in the flickering light.
Susan’s eyes snapped open, her heart beat quickening. Hecate stirred, and one of the boys on her stomach started to wriggle. Reaching down, she stroked his head, even as she watched the elder Chead wander towards them. A flicker of red drifted across her vision. There was a bitter taste in Susan’s mouth as Talisa took a seat on the outcropping of rock beside their makeshift bed.
Finally remembering herself, Susan nodded. “Thank you, Talisa.”
A smile spread across Talisa’s aging face. “You have done well, ensuring our people’s survival. The Chead could not have asked more of you.”
Lying flat on her back, staring up at the ancient Chead, Susan felt small. With the tiny bodies wrapped in her arms, she was vulnerable, trapped by their presence. She didn’t dare move for fear of waking them. Swallowing, she looked up at Talisa.
“It’s not over,” she whispered, glancing at the sleeping faces of her children. “This world will never…be safe for them, not while…the humans hunt us.”
Talisa leaned forward, her bleached white eyes studying Susan closely. “That is a worry for others now, my child,” her voice was dry, rasping as it echoed from the cold rocks. “Your children need you.”
Susan frowned, shaking her head as she tried to sit up. A sharp cry came from one of the girls. Cursing under her breath, she stilled. But she wasn’t about to give in so easily. “I will not stand idle…while the humans plot against us. I cannot rest…until the world is safe for them.”
“My child, we have warriors who will carry the fight to the humans,” Talisa replied, her voice hardening. “Tomorrow they will leave these caves and travel through the mountains. Hecate and I will lead them. We will kill this President and leave the humans leaderless. But you must remain.” She grinned. “We cannot risk such a fertile female beyond our safe haven.”
Anger lit in Susan’s chest. She sat up, taking care to place her gently on the rags beside her. One of the girls started to shriek, but Susan only handed her to an open-mouthed Hecate. Standing, she faced off against Talisa. “You think killing their leader will stop them?” she growled, the words coming easily for once. “You think they’ll leave us alone, now you’ve revealed our strength?”
Susan shuddered as Talisa stepped in close. Her white eyes seemed to glow in the dim light, but Susan refused to bow down.
“You would defy me, child?”
The edge to Talisa’s voice sent a tremor through Susan. There was a warning there, a threat. Swallowing hard, she lowered her gaze, suddenly unable to meet the elder Chead’s eyes.
“No, Talisa,” she murmured demurely, “but...I have another idea…something I remembered.”
A long silence stretched over the cavern, broken only by the soft murmuring of Susan’s upset children. Her heart wrenched as she looked back and saw Hecate cradling the two girls to his chest. For a moment she wavered, filled with a sudden yearning to obey Talisa’s command. The desire to wrap her children in her arms, to give her life to them, was all but irresistible. It would be so easy to remain here, to forget the dangers of the outside world, the cruelty of humanity, and dedicate herself to the Chead.
Yet even surrounded by the sweet scent of her brethren, a part of her still resisted. A voice deep inside her called out, demanding her to act. Because if she did nothing, Talisa would lead them all to destruction.
“Explain yourself, child,” Talisa said finally, her voice laced with anger.
Susan glanced from Hecate to Talisa. “There’s something I remembered…” she repeated, slowly regathering her confidence. Straightening, she looked into Talisa’s hard eyes. “A final piece to the puzzle of our survival.”
“And what would that be?” Talisa growled.
“A way to defeat them,” Susan whispered. “A way to wipe humanity from existence.”
Chapter 9
“No! Stop! Leave me alone!”
The panicked scream echoed up from an alleyway running between two of the rotting mansions. Folding her wings, Liz swooped towards it. Her eyes scanned the shadows, and found the silhouettes of three men advancing on the lonely shape of a woman. As the scream came again, Liz folded her wings, and dropped from the sky.
Stones crunched as she slammed into the ground between the men and the woman. Her jet-black wings flared out to fill the alleyway, and the men flung themselves back from her, eyes wide. Shouts echoed off the narrow walls as they tripped over themselves and went down in a heap. A low growl rumbled up from Liz’s throat as she stepped towards them.
The men scrambled to their feet, but now the initial shock of her
appearance had worn off, they stood their ground. The tall walls of the alley cut off the last glow of the setting sun, but Liz had no trouble making them out in the gloom. Her eyes swept over the men as they straightened, taking in their muscular shoulders and tanned skin. The one on her right held a pistol gripped tightly in one hand, while the other was cradling a sawn-off shotgun. The one at the rear towered over the other two, but his hands were empty.
“It’s one of them freaks,” the one with the pistol said. He turned to his friends. “You know, the old President’s lackeys?”
“Yeah, we’re not blind, Larry,” the man with the shotgun replied. His eyes glinted in the darkness as he pointed his weapon at Liz. “What do you want, freak?”
Behind her, Liz could hear the woman whimpering. She glanced back and saw the girl had fallen to her knees and was huddled up against the wall. Cursing, she swung back to the men and eyed their weapons. Only a few feet separated them—she could cross that distance in the blink of an eye. Making up her mind, she gave a dark smile and folded her arms.
“Leave now, and I won’t break your legs,” she said, flashing her most menacing grin.
The three men shared a glance. They edged back a step, eyes wary. The public hadn’t seen what they could do, but these were rural men; they would be all too familiar with the Chead. To her surprise though, they stood their ground, seeming to take confidence from their numbers and weapons. The two in the lead hefted their guns and pointed them at her chest.
“What’s the girl to you, freak?” The man with the shotgun smiled and gestured at the terrified girl. “Pretty urban thing like that needs a lesson on how the world works now.”
