Their black-garbed attacker barely had time to scream before Chris’s fist slammed into his windpipe. The intruder’s face paled and his hands went to his throat. He staggered backwards, strangled noises gurgling from his mouth, and toppled over the kitchen table.
Chris offered his mother a hand. Before she could take it, a creak came from the floorboards behind him. The man from the lounge loomed up, grabbing Chris by the shoulder. Still on the ground, his mother rolled away as Chris twisted around, fighting to break the man’s hold. Cursing, he aimed an elbow at the man’s gut, but his arm struck solid body armor and bounced off.
The body armor explained what had happened to the knife Chris had thrown, but before he could process what the information meant, another crash came from the window.
His mother surged to her feet as a third man leapt inside. Still holding the bloodied knife, she screamed and charged. Straining his arms, Chris bucked against his captor’s grip, but there was no breaking the man’s iron hold. Stomach clenched, he watched his mother attack the heavily-armed assailant.
The new intruder carried a steel baton in one hand, and as she swung her knife it flashed out and caught her wrist. His mother screamed, and the blade tumbled from her hand. She retreated across the room, cradling her arm. A fourth man appeared in the doorway to the lounge. Before Chris could shout a warning, he grabbed her from behind.
His mother shrieked and threw back her head, trying to catch the man in the chin, but her blows bounced off his body armor. Her eyes widened as his arm went around her neck, cutting off her breath. Heart hammering in his chest, Chris twisted and kicked at his opponent’s shins, desperate to aid his mother, but the man showed no sign of relenting.
“Mom!” he screamed as her eyes drooped closed.
“Doctor Fallow, situation under control. You’re up,” the man from the window spoke into his cuff. He approached his wounded comrade, whose face was turning purple. “Hold on, man. Medical’s on its way.”
“Who are you?” Chris gasped.
The man ignored him. Instead, he went to work on the fallen man, removing his belt and binding it around the man’s leg. The injured man groaned as the speaker worked, his eyes squeezed closed and his teeth clenched. A pang of guilt touched Chris, but he crushed it down.
“What the hell happened?” a woman exclaimed as she entered the kitchen.
The woman was dark-skinned, but the color was rapidly fleeing her face as she looked around the kitchen. She raised a hand to her mouth, her eyes lingering on the blood, then flicking between the men and their captives. Shock showed in their amber depths, but already it was fading as she reasserted control. Lowering her hand to her side, she pursed her red lips. Her gaze settled on Chris.
A chill went through him as he noticed the red-emblazoned bear on the front of her black jacket. The symbol marked her as a government employee. These were not random thugs in the night. They were the police, and they were here for Chris and his mother.
Nodding to herself, the woman reached into her jacket and drew something into the light. The breath caught in Chris’s throat as he glimpsed the contraption in her hand. For a second he thought it was a pistol, but as she drew closer he realized his mistake. It was some sort of hypodermic gun, some device he’d only thought existed in old movies. In real life though, it was far more terrifying than anything Hollywood had ever produced.
“Who are you?” Chris croaked as she paused in front of him.
Her eyes drifted to Chris’s face, but she only shook her head. She studied the liquid in the vial attached to the gun’s barrel, then looked back at Chris, as though weighing him up.
“Hold him,” she said at last.
“What?” Chris gasped as his captor pulled his arms behind his back. “What are you doing? Please, you’re making a mistake, we haven’t done anything wrong!”
The woman didn’t answer. Chris struggled to escape as she raised the gun to his neck, but the man only pulled his arms harder, sending a bolt of pain through his shoulders. Biting back a scream, Chris looked up at the woman. Their eyes met, and he thought he saw a flicker of regret in her eyes.
Then the cold of the hypodermic gun touched his neck, followed by a hiss of gas as she pressed the trigger. Metal pinched Chris’s neck, and then the woman stepped back. Holding his breath, Chris stared at the woman, his eyes never leaving hers.
Within seconds, the first touch of weariness started to seep through Chris’s body. He blinked as shadows spread around the edges of his vision. Idly, he struggled to free his arms, so he might chase the shadows away. But the man still held him fast. Sucking in a mouthful of air, Chris fought against the exhaustion. Blinking hard, he willed himself to resist the pull of sleep.
But there was no stopping the warmth spreading through his limbs. His head bobbed and his arms went limp, until the only thing keeping him upright was the strength of his captor.
The woman’s face was the last thing Chris saw before he slipped into the darkness.
* * *
Continue reading in…The Evolution Gene
Also by Aaron Hodges
Descendants of the Fall
Book 1: Warbringer
Book 2: Wrath of the Forgotten
Book 3: Age of Gods
Book 4: Dreams of Fury
The Evolution Gene
Book 1: The Genome Project
Book 2: The Pursuit of Truth
Book 3: The Way the World Ends
The Sword of Light
Book 1: Stormwielder
Book 2: Firestorm
Book 3: Soul Blade
The Legend of the Gods
Book 1: Oathbreaker
Book 2: Shield of Winter
Book 3: Dawn of War
The Knights of Alana
Book 1: Daughter of Fate
Book 2: Queen of Vengeance
Book 3: Crown of Chaos
Dreams of Fury: Descendants of the Fall Book IV Page 26
