Retribution (The Praegressus Project Book 5)

by Aaron Hodges

  Sam frowned as the President walked out from behind his desk. His heart beat frantically against his ribcage as he gathered himself, waiting for his chance. Only a dozen feet separated him from the President—he could cross that distance in a second. But the President and Pascaline were still close enough to lean across and turn their keys.

  The President came to a stop in front of his desk. Bending down, he picked up a baseball bat that lay discarded on the ground. “The question is, who goes first?” Holding the bat aloft, he took a practice swing. Then he stepped away from the desk.

  In that moment Sam sensed the trap, but it was already too late. Beside him, Ashley’s wings snapped open, and she leapt at the President before Sam could stop her. Wind swirled around the room as Ashley propelled herself forward. She only made it half a dozen feet before her wings folded, sending her crashing down into the soft carpet.

  Cursing, Sam started after her, but as he moved his vision swam. He staggered sideways, clenching his eyes closed, then opened them again, but it did nothing to halt the swirling lights. His feet became like led as he took another step, then collapsed beneath him. His head jarred as he hit the ground. Gasping, he found himself on his side, watching as the President wandered across to the fallen Ashley.

  “What have you done…to us?” he managed to croak, the words slurring in his mouth.

  “Sarin gas,” the President laughed as he came to a stop beside Ashley’s prone body. Pulling back his sleeve, he tapped a finger to his watch. Somewhere in the room, something went beep. “There, it’s off. Even our inoculation won’t last forever. Now, where was I? Ah yes, the gas. It’s been specially modified to cause paralysis, without any other nasty side-effects. I had my office rigged weeks ago, in case of unexpected visitors. All I had to do was keep you busy until it took effect.”

  Stepping forward, he nudged Ashley with his boot. A rasping noise came from her throat as she toppled onto her back, but she made no move to resist.

  “You…bastard,” Sam managed.

  Smiling, the President hefted his bat. “It takes a few hours to wear off in a normal human. Even with fine specimens such as yourselves, we should at least have a few minutes.” A dark glint shone in his eyes as he looked down at Ashley. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

  Chapter 30

  “Leave her alone,” Sam gasped from where he lay.

  Grinding his teeth, he tried to sit up, but his limbs were like lead, his muscles refusing to obey.

  Ignoring him, the President stared down at Ashley. A smile played across his lips as she tried to crawl away from him.

  “Not so strong now, are you?” he growled.

  Drawing back his boot, he slammed it into Ashley’s stomach. The blow sent her tumbling across the carpet like a ragdoll, her white wings lolling limply around her. Coming to a stop, she gasped desperately, her hands clutched around her stomach. Snarling, the President strode after her.

  “Thought you could kill me, did you?”

  His boot caught Ashley again with an audible crunch. Her head whipped back as blood splattered from her nose. Groaning, she managed to roll onto her stomach. Fingers like claws, she tried to drag herself away, but before she could go half a foot, the President’s boot slammed down on her back. Breath exploded from between Ashley’s teeth as she collapsed.

  Laughter slithered through the room as Pascaline joined the President. “They’re more pathetic than you led me to believe,” she said, shaking her head.

  The President only laughed. Reaching down, he grabbed Ashley by the foot and dragged her across the room towards Sam. Watching them come, Sam managed to pull himself up to his hands and knees. Panting with the effort, he looked at the President with what he hoped was disdain.

  “You really are…pathetic,” he managed, his voice still slurring. “Harry…and the rest…will finish you in the end.”

  “Harry?” The President tossed Ashley down beside Sam. “You can’t mean lieutenant Harry McCrae, surely?”

  Sam blinked, unsure whether to admit the truth or not, but the President had already seen it on his face. Throwing back his head, he howled with laughter.

  “Oh, my dear Samuel, obviously you haven’t seen the news. Here, allow me.” Moving back to his desk, he picked up a remote and pointed it at one of the windows. The world beyond the glass vanished, replaced by the flickering image of a woman in a news chair. For a moment the picture distorted as the video rewound, then a woman’s voice erupted into the room.

  “Divisions between rural and urban populations continued to mount today. Rioting has now spread to LA, San Diego and Seattle. Tensions re-ignited several days ago when it was revealed the fugitive Christopher Sanders had escaped custody with the help of the self-styled ‘San Francisco Council’. The leader of the council, one lieutenant Harry McCrae, was not available to comment. However, soon after learning the news, protestors stationed outside the council’s centre of operations stormed the building. It is thought no one inside survived.”

  Meanwhile, General Thompson of Oregon has—”

  The voice cut off as the image of the woman blinked away. Sam sat staring at the window, hardly able to believe what he’d heard. Harry and the others were dead. The protestors had torn them to pieces, and none of Harry’s careful planning or quiet authority had been able to save them. And all because they’d helped Chris…

  “I guess a free press has its uses,” the President mused. Wandering around the prone figure of Ashley, he crouched beside Sam. “Do you finally see the truth now, Samuel?

  Gritting his teeth, Sam met the President’s gaze. “What are you…talking about?” he gasped.

  “Are you truly so blind, that you cannot see it?” He spread his arms and gestured at the blank screen. “That is what you’ve all been fighting for, that is what your precious freedom means, Samuel. Chaos! Two hundred million people free to tear each other to pieces, to riot and rise up against their betters. Can you see now why they needed to be manipulated, why they needed an enemy to fear, to unite them?”

  “You slaughtered thousands,” Sam grated through clenched teeth.

  “And how many lives has your alternative already claimed, Samuel? How many of your friends have already died in this brave new world of yours? How many helpless mothers and children?” He shook his head. “Do you really think the people are happier now, living in the world your truth has given them?”

  Sam closed his eyes, trying not to listen, to allow the man to manipulate him. The darkness in his mind’s eyes swirled and his stomach clenched. Gasping, he bent in two, struggling not to bring up yesterday’s dinner.

  “The best part is, even this so-called freedom of yours won’t last,” the President continued. “My former Generals, those who still command the loyalty of their men anyway, are already circling. It won’t be long before the nation dissolves into individual states, each ruled by a brand new Dictator for you to fight.”

  Swaying on his knees, Sam could hardly make sense of the man’s words. Even so, he looked up at the President and spat at his feet.

  “Better them than you,” he gasped. “You tortured…and mutilated children. Spread a plague…across the country, all so you could…control us.”

  “So I could unite us,” the President boomed. “So I could bring unity to our fledgling nation. You think we would have survived this long if I hadn’t? Even now, the remnants of the United States are circling. Texas, Florida, Ohio, they can’t wait to take a piece out of us. They hate us for what we did to them, for destroying their precious union and casting them out into the wilderness, for razing their cities and obliterating their economies when they refused to bend. If we had not stood together, we would have fallen. As we are now.”

  “I don’t believe that.” Somehow, Sam managed to climb to his feet. Standing there swaying, he faced the President. “It’s your deception, your lies and manipulation that have torn us apart. But this is not the end. We’ll find a way to continue, to unite. We don’t need your fear t
o force us together.”

  “We?” The President smiled. He moved forward until he stood face to face with Sam. “Have you not heard what they’ve been calling you, Samuel. They may fear the Chead, but they despise the lot of you. You’ll never be one of them again, never be human. Not so long as those things hang from your back.”

  Sam’s stomach curdled, but he stared back into the man’s eyes, unflinching. A long silence stretched out as they glared at each other, each unwilling to backdown, to give an inch.

  Then Ashley, still lying in a pile on the floor, lurched forward and sank her teeth into the President’s ankle.

  A high-pitched scream rattled the windows as the President stumbled back. His foot lashed out, catching Ashley in the side of the head and sending her sprawling, but Sam saw his chance. Gathering his fading strength, he lunged forward, arms outstretched…

  Only for the golden-winged girl to catch him by the throat, and slam him face first into the carpet.

  “Too slow, Samuel,” she murmured, before turning to check on the President.

  Sam groaned as delayed pain shot through his body. His wings lay like dead-weights to either side of him, and he found he no longer had the strength to sit up. Across from him, Ashley had curled up in a ball. A fresh bruise swelled on her forehead where the blow had caught her.

  A roar came from the President as he strode across and grabbed a fistful of Ashley’s hair. She cried out as he yanked back her head. Tears stung Sam’s eyes as he met her gaze. There was no mistaking the fear shining in her amber irises.

  “Stupid. Stubborn. Witch.”

  With each word, the President slammed Ashley’s face into the floor. Even with the carpet, Sam could feel the thud of each blow through the floor.

  “Leave her alone!” he gasped, struggling to rise.

  An awful moan hissed from Ashley’s throat. Lifting a hand, she tried to push the man away, but her strength had fled. Blood streamed from her nose, bubbling as she struggled to breathe. She gave a gurgling cry as the President hauled her to her feet, his fingers still tangled in her hair.

  “Ashley…” Sam managed to croak.

  “Sam…” she cried back, her voice laced with agony. Only the President’s grip in her hair kept her standing.

  Laughing, the President shoved Ashley at his desk. Her feet crumpled as he released her, and she toppled head first into the mahogany. A sharp crack rang through the room, and a bloody streak appeared on the wood as Ashley fell away.

  The President shook his head and looked at Sam. “Do you think she’s still breathing, Samuel?” He swung the baseball bat loosely in his left hand. “Probably, you freaks are tough to kill.”

  Heart in his throat, Sam managed to pull himself back onto his hands and knees. Ignoring the President’s taunts, he dragged himself across the carpet, eyes locked on Ashley. From his vantage point, he couldn’t see if she was breathing or not—but he could see the dark smear of blood on her forehead.

  The President kept track with him as he crawled. “I warned you,” he said, almost conversationally. “You survived the Chead, back on Alcatraz. You should have called it a win and left it at that. I would have spared you, you know. Now…now you’ll have to pay.”

  Sam was almost at Ashley’s side now, but as he reached out to grasp her arm, the President knocked his hand away. Stepping past, he loomed over Ashley, bat held aloft.

  “I really am sorry about this, Samuel,” the President said, glancing down at him, “I know you were fond of her. But really, the girl is a danger to everyone around her. It’s better this way.”

  Turning back to Ashley, he lifted the bat above his head. Ashley still lay on the ground unmoving, her scarlet hair matted with blood, her eyes closed, her face pale. Sam’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach as the President took aim.

  “No!” he screamed as the bat descended. Desperately, he threw out an arm, as though by will alone he could move himself into the path of the blow.

  The soft thud as the bat struck Ashley’s head was horribly loud in the vastness of the apartment.

  Chapter 31

  Susan paused in the stairwell as a shout echoed down to them. She glanced back at Hecate, eyebrows raised, and then continued up through the darkness. Above, an partially-open door beckoned.

  It hadn’t been hard for the two of them to skirt the battle between the Chead and the winged mutants. Threading through the junkyard, Hecate and Susan had disappeared into the maze of buildings spanning the base. From there, they made their way towards the only destination that remained unaffected by the chaos unfolding across the base.

  The glimmering tower of glass rising up into the night.

  Keeping to the shadows, they skirted the patrols racing towards the conflict, and made their way steadily towards the glow beckoning in the centre of the base. Once there, it had been a simple matter of walking through the front door.

  The dozen guards stationed in the entranceway had stared in shock at their sudden appearance. It was all the opportunity the two Chead needed.

  Now they were nearing the uppermost floors of the tower, and Susan had been starting to worry they’d come to the wrong building. Each floor they’d come to had been empty, filled with an assortment of desks, computers and laboratory equipment. The last level had been packed with beds. The familiar stench of the winged creatures had wafted out into the stairwell when she’d opened the door, but the room was empty.

  At least now they knew where their assailants outside had come from.

  Ahead, light shone from the doorway. Susan smiled as they reached it, taking a moment to sniff the air. She recognised the lingering stench of humanity, mingling with the scent of their winged rivals. There was something else too, but it was faint, already fading. Hecate shifted beside her, teeth bared, eyes eager. They shared a glance, then Susan pushed the door open.

  Three pairs of eyes swung around as they swept into the room.

  “Well, well, well, what have we here?” Susan growled as she took in the scene.

  The first thing she noted was the man standing in the middle of the room. Clutching a bloody baseball bat in one meaty fist, he exuded a power those around him could not match. Despite his obvious humanity, he was clearly in charge of the situation. At his feet, a girl with white wings lay still, blood matting her face. Another winged boy lay nearby, arm outstretched towards his fallen companion, while a third of the freaks stood silently nearby.

  Turning her eyes back to the man, Susan grinned. There was no mistaking him. “Mr President, it’s so good to finally meet you.”

  Uncertainty flickered across his face as she started forward, Hecate just a step behind. He paled, and backing away, he stumbled over the fallen girl. The shock seemed to snap him back to reality, and straightening, he pointed his bat at Susan’s chest.

  “Pascaline, stop them!” he snapped.

  Soft laughter came from the golden-winged girl as she stepped between Susan and the President. “That’s far enough, Chead,” she said, grinning. Arms crossed, she stood barring their path. “Allow me to introduce myself—I’m your replacement.”

  Susan stopped a few feet from the girl. Her eyes swept the arrogant creature up and down, taking her in, before looking into its dim hazel eyes.

  “My replacement?” Slowly she shook her head. “My dear girl, your kind are but children to the Chead.”

  “Children?” the girl bristled. Her wings snapped open, the feathers quivering. “I am superior to you in every way!”

  “Oh yes?” Susan tilted her head to the side, an amused smile playing across her lips. “Then why don’t you try me?”

  Growling, the girl sprang, her wings sweeping down to propel her forward. The smile never left Susan’s face as she watched the girl come. Feet fixed in place, she leaned back as a fist flashed for her face, allowing the blow to sweep harmlessly past. Straightening, Susan watched the girl’s eyes widen. Overbalanced and within inches of her opponent, there was no avoiding Susan’s riposte.


  She brought up her knee, driving it into the girl’s stomach. Air exploded between her opponent’s teeth, crumpling her in two. Mouth wide and gasping, she gasped, desperate for breath. Still smiling, Susan locked her fists together and brought them down on the back of the girl’s head. The blow drove her opponent face first into the carpet.

  For a moment Susan watched the winged girl twitch listlessly on the ground. Then, shaking her head, she looked up at the President.

  The man had gone a ghostly white now. He backed towards his desk, as though something there could possibly save him. Laughing, Susan leapt after him, her powerful legs propelling her across the dozen feet in a single bound. The courage fled the man as she landed beside him. Turning, he tried to flee.

  Susan reached out and caught him by the collar before he could go two steps. He gave a strangled scream as she hauled him around and lifted him up off his feet.

  “Mr President, as I was saying, I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” She grinned as the supposedly most powerful human on earth squirmed in her grasp. “The Chead send their regards.”

  “Please!” he gasped, clawing at the fist clenched around his collar. “Let me go!”

  “Very well.”

  With a casual flick of her wrist, Susan tossed him to the floor. He bounced once before coming to rest in a tangled heap against his desk. Gasping, he tried to scramble up, but Susan was on him in an instant.

  “My dear President, where do you think you’re going?” she growled. “You wouldn’t be so rude as to leave your guests unattended, would you? After all, we need to talk.”

  “Ta...talk?” he stuttered.

  Susan sneered. Whoever this man had been, he was nothing now. Stripped of his power and authority, he had reverted to humanity’s natural state—a pitiful, cowardly excuse for a creature. It took all her willpower not to snap his neck right there.