by Aaron Hodges
She broke off again as tears brimmed in her eyes. Angrily, she wiped them away. Her fists clenched, but she forced them to relax, to breathe. “I didn’t think. I ran into the house, screaming their names. Inside, everything was torn and broken. At the end of the corridor I could see blood on the floor. It was only then that I stopped, that reason caught up to me. But by then it was too late. I couldn’t stop myself, I had to see, had to know,” she broke off, a sob tearing from her chest.
Strong arms held her close as she struggled to control her grief.
“Your parents?” Chris whispered.
Liz shuddered again, and slowly shook her head. She bit her lip, determined to continue, to speak the words she had never dared voice aloud. “My father,” she croaked. “He lay in the hallway, his blood….” she shook her head, “But my mum… my mum stood over him, her head down, her shoulders shaking. And her eyes… her eyes were grey, Chris,” she choked on the last words.
Burying her head in Chris’s shoulder, she waited for him to reply, unsure how he would respond. But he said nothing, only held her tight. When she finally looked up, there were tears in his eyes. Leaning down, he kissed her gently on the forehead.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
They said nothing for a long time then, just sat together, staring out into the darkness. The wind began to pick up strength, shaking the branches of the trees hanging over the roof. Liz shivered, pulling her own wings closer to her back as she nestled in next to Chris. Her head lay on his chest, and she could hear the steady thud of his heart beneath her. Reaching out a hand, she entwined her fingers with his.
“What happened next, Liz?”
She sucked in a breath, her thoughts drifting back, remembering the cold grey eyes staring from her mother’s face. There had been nothing left of her crystal blue gaze, of the gentle kindness she offered to all she met. But as they’d found Liz, there had been a flicker of recognition, of something other than animalistic hunger.
“She left,” Liz whispered. “I never understood why. I stood in that corridor for a full minute, too scared to move a muscle. But she just stood there, staring. Then, she seemed to come alive. She walked past me like I wasn’t even there. I never saw her again.”
She didn’t add that it had been three days before anyone showed up, when the landowner finally reported a shipment of goods from the farm as missing. Those three days were little more than a haze for Liz. Her mind had receded, and succumbing to shock she had crumpled to the hallway floor. Hours later some form of awareness had returned, and she had found herself covered in blood. Finding her father’s dead eyes watching her, she had screamed and fled into the forest.
After that, she could remember only flashes – of her standing in a shower, the blood streaming down the drain. Then standing over a shallow grave, her father lying amidst the dirt. The taste of vomit in her mouth, and the reek of death.
It wasn’t until the police arrived that some form of sanity had finally returned. She had told them what had happened, watched as the SWAT team entered the forest, listened to their brief reassurances. But later, as she sat shivering in the back of a wagon, she had heard the policemen talking. They did not believe her story, that the Chead had spared her.
As they began to discuss where to take her, Liz’s senses had come crashing back. With them came memories of the warnings, of the disappearances. She had slipped silently away into the woods then, and never looked back.
Now, on the roof with Chris, Liz could hardly believe she had returned. An awful loneliness rose within her, a desperate grief for her parents and the life she had once lived. Sobbing, she clung to Chris, lost in the terror of her past, in the madness that had swallowed her existence.
11
Chris watched as the first light of the morning sun lit the distant horizon. It began as a soft glow far in the distance, still hidden by the curve of the earth, but quickly rising into view. Sunlight shone across the plains, turning the fields of grass to gold, and revealing the black and white dots of sheep and cattle. He closed his eyes as the first rays reached them on the rooftop, basking in their warmth.
Turning his head, he watched Liz where she was curled up beside him. One of his wings lay draped across her like a blanket, and she clutched it in her fingers, a soft smile touching her lips. Her own wings had relaxed with sleep, and now hung limply behind her.
His mind drifted, recalling again the story she had told him. He shivered, unable to comprehend the shock, the horror of witnessing her mother change. He bit back a sob as he thought of his own mother, and wondered at her fate.
Where are you, mum?
He still clung to the hope she was alive, that the government had spared her from execution, or delayed her sentence. He couldn’t bring himself to face the alternative, that she might be gone, that he might be alone.
If she was gone, he didn’t know how he would go on.
Grimacing, Chris forced his thoughts to more practical matters. They were a long way from safe yet. They had found a temporarily asylum on Liz’s ranch, but it was only a matter of time before the search reached the lonely mountain. Today, tomorrow maybe, but no longer than that. Once the helicopter found the dead soldiers, and realised the escapees had breached their cordon, the hunters would come for them. They had to be far away by then.
But with the wide plains stretching out to the west, they would be spotted in minutes if they flew.
Chris stifled a yawn and rose to his feet, struggling to free his wing from Liz’s unconscious grip before tucking them against his back. Liz stirred with the movement, her eyelids flickering briefly, before settling back into sleep. Crouching down, he gently lifted her into his arms.
Letting her great black wings trail beneath her, he moved to the side of the roof and jumped. His own wings snapped out as they fell, catching him and slowing his descent. He landed with a soft thud of bare feet on dirt and retracted his wings. Idly, he wondered again at the strange new appendages, at how quickly they had all adapted to their presence. Though he still tripped over their bulk occasionally, each day they became more a part of him.
He found Jasmine and Richard in the living area. Richard stood by the window, looking out over the plains. He glanced up as Chris entered, then resumed his silent vigil. Jasmine was in the adjoining kitchen, silently licking her fingers. A guilty look flashed across her face when she saw him, and she quickly looked away. Glancing at the countertop, Chris saw the remains of the turkey had been picked clean. His stomach gave a sharp rumble at the sight.
Shaking his head, Chris crossed the room. The young girl lay asleep beside the long dead fireplace, her grey wings pulled tight around her. He lay Liz gently beside her. To his surprise, the young girl gave a soft murmur, and her arms stretched out to embrace Liz.
Chris smiled at the sight, warmth spreading through his chest. Whatever pain Liz might be feeling, she had the rest of them now – even this strange little girl, it seemed.
He looked back at Jasmine and Richard, feeling the heavy tension that hung over the room. Yesterday, little had been said of the ambush in the forest. They had all been too exhausted, still in shock after what had happened, what they’d witnessed. Jasmine hid it well, but he could see her fear, concealed behind the anger. The encounter with the soldiers had scared her to the core.
“Good morning,” he offered softly.
Richard turned away from the window. “You didn’t wake us, for the watch?”
Chris let out a long breath and shook his head. “I couldn’t sleep anyway. I thought you could use the rest.”
Jasmine snorted as she walked out of the kitchen. “Yeah, right. Not because you were worried he might fall asleep again.”
Richard bowed his head and looked away, but she moved towards him, a fire burning in her eyes.
Quickly stepping into her path, Chris raised his hands. “It’s not his fault, Jasmine.”
“No?” her brown eyes glared at him, her emerald wings trembling on her back,
“What about you and Liz then? Wandering off into the forest, leaving us to be caught. I guess we know how things stand between us, don’t we?”
“How things stand?” Chris stepped forward, until only an inch separated them, “How things stand is the two of you have never been anything but antagonistic to us. And why? Because we were forced to fight your friends? Because we were jailed with Ashley and Sam?”
Jasmine refused to back down. Her eyes were like daggers as she looked up at Chris. “They killed our friends,” she snapped.
“And you didn’t?” Richard’s voice interrupted their exchange. He stepped forward, face hard now. “You made the same decision, Jasmine. Or else Chelsea would be here instead of you, wouldn’t she?”
Air hissed between Jasmine’s teeth as her face paled. “Don’t you dare bring her into this!”
“Stop!” Chris growled, cutting over the two of them. He glanced at Liz, and was relieved to see she still slept. He went on in a softer tone. “Stop this, both of you. We’ve all been forced to do things we regret. We went through that hell together, in case you’d forgotten. But we’re all that’s left now. We’re all any of us has. We have to find a way to work together.”
Jasmine took a long breath as she looked at Chris. She opened her mouth to speak, but her voice cracked, and suddenly she seemed to shrink. Shaking her head, she turned away. “You don’t understand,” she shuddered. “When they caught us… when we were kneeling there on the ground. I’ve never been so afraid, knowing they were taking us back, that there was nothing I could do to stop it from happening.”
“Jasmine…” Richard’s voice was soft as he stepped towards her.
“Don’t!” Jasmine shrank away. “Just… don’t, Richard.”
“It wasn’t his fault, Jasmine,” Chris repeated his words. “You saw how many there were, the weapons they had. They would have shot us down if we’d tried to run. I don’t think it would have mattered in the end, whether Richard was awake or not.”
A strained silence fell across the room then. Chris shivered as a cold breeze drifted in from the front door. He moved across to the kitchen and attempted to scavenge a scrap of meat from the turkey carcass.
“What happened in the forest, Chris?” it was Richard who spoke, but when he looked up he saw Jasmine shifting closer too.
Giving up on the turkey, he picked up a loose apple and took a bite. The image of the Chead falling from the trees flickered through his mind, punctuated by the screams of the soldiers. His stomach twisted and he tossed the apple back onto the bench.
“The truth? I don’t know. We were watching you from the trees, talking about how to free you,” he eyed Jasmine pointedly at that. “But before we could act, the Chead appeared. I didn’t even hear them approach. One stepped between us and the soldiers, while the others melted into the trees. A few minutes later, the screaming started.”
Jasmine shuddered as she wrapped her arms around her chest. “Why would they help us?”
Chris shrugged. He had been asking himself the same question ever since their appearance. That, and where they had come from, what they had been doing in the forest in the first place. He started to speak, to voice his own questions, when a movement came from the doorway.
As one, the three of them spun towards the doorway
12
“Well... what do we have… here?”
For a second, time seemed to slow. As Chris spun, he glimpsed the figure in the doorway, heard the voice, but he was already moving. Stepping forward, he placed himself between the intruder and the sleeping girls, raising his fists in defiance. His lips drew back in a snarl, but inside a desperate fear wrapped around his chest, draining away his strength.
The Chead reclined in the doorway, arms crossed, its features twisted with amusement. Long black hair hung around its face, but there was no missing the familiar grey eyes. The orange jumpsuit it wore was torn and stained, the sleeves ripped clean off at the shoulders. Sleek, powerful muscles rippled along its arms as it stepped into the room. It looked to be around Chris’s own eighteen years, though there was no telling with the Chead. Its sickly-sweet scent reached Chris’s nostrils as it looked around, its very presence a threat.
Chris’s stomach lurched as he realised he knew the creature. It was the same Chead from the facility, the same one he and Liz had fought – and spared. He swallowed as its eyes fixed on him. He tensed, preparing himself.
The Chead smiled. “Come now,” the words seemed almost hesitant, but there was no mistaking their strength, “if we wished you dead… we would have left you to… the soldiers.”
“Stay where you are,” Chris bared his teeth, his wings snapping open, “Don’t come any closer.”
The Chead’s grey eyes lingered on his wings as it took another step. “Curious…” its voice grated. Lifting a hand, it reached out to touch his wing. Chris took an involuntary step backwards, and the Chead laughed.
Swallowing his fear, Chris growled. “Get out.”
The Chead’s face went blank as its cold eyes drilled into him. Chris shuddered, but forced himself to stand strong. He could sense the others behind him, hovering close, and drew strength from their presence.
“You’re outnumbered,” he breathed. “Leave, now!”
A sly grin spread across the Chead’s lips as it began to cackle. Movement came from around them, as the other creatures Chris had glimpsed in the forest filed in from the hallway. Unable to control his fear, Chris retreated into the centre of the room, until he collided with Richard. The Chead spread out around the room, forcing the three of them back towards the fireplace. Looking around, Chris counted eight pairs of grey eyes watching them.
The first Chead moved forward, until it stood face to face with Chris. He flinched as it reached out and stroked the feathers of his wings, but there was nowhere left to retreat now.
“Curious,” it repeated, its words smoother now. It looked at him. “So… I was not wrong.”
Chris took a long breath, struggling to control his panic. “What do you want, Chead?”
“So… impatient,” a broad grin split its face as the grey eyes travelled past him, to where Liz still lay asleep. Absently, Chris wondered whether the girl would sleep through a hurricane. “We are not yet… all present.”
It started to step past him, but Chris moved to intercept it, anger taking light in his chest. Whatever these creatures were here for, he wasn’t about to let them harm Liz. Not without a fight.
Before he could take two steps, two Chead leapt forward from the circle and caught him by the arms. Grunting with effort, they hauled him back as he fought to break free. A soft smile on its lips, the first Chead strode past, moving across to where Lis and the young girl lay by the fireplace.
“The other… one,” it turned and grinned at Chris, its stilted voice touched by humour, “my... champions.”
Chris was about to reply when a movement came from the floor. Before anyone could react, Liz leapt from the ground and tackled the Chead from behind. Her weight sent it stumbling forward as she wrapped an arm tight around its throat.
As the Chead fought to regain its balance, Liz spread her wings and beat them hard. Still off-balance, the Chead lost its footing and was dragged backwards, as Liz lifted its full weight off the ground. She landed in the corner, and turned to face the remaining Chead.
“Back!” she snarled, teeth bared.
The other Chead exchanged uneasy glances. Then the creature in Liz’s grip twisted, and its elbow flashed back into her face. A harsh crack echoed through the room as the blow staggered her. With a violent jerk, the Chead tore itself free and sprang free.
Chris tensed against the Chead holding him, preparing to fight, to defend Liz against the creatures.
But the first Chead only laughed. Shaking its head, it turned its back on Liz and stalked across to Chris.
“The girl is… spirited,” its teeth showed as its lips curled back, “She is… yours?”
Shrieking, Liz la
unched herself across the room. Quick as a minx, the Chead spun. Parrying a wild blow from Liz, its hand flashed out and caught her by the wrist. A low rumble sounded in Liz’s chest as she swung her other arm, but the Chead easily caught the blow. Grinning, it stared down at her. Liz looked back helplessly, both fists trapped in its iron grasp.
Then her knee flashed up, straight into the Chead’s crotch. The thump as the blow landed made even Chris wince, and the Chead folded like grass before the wind.
“My name is Liz,” she growled, staring down at the gasping figure, “and I belong to no one.”
The Chead chuckled as it straightened. “Such fire…” it bowed its head, “my… apologies.”
“Artemis!” Chris jumped as a new voice shrieked from the corner of the room.
Every face in the room turned as a ball of grey hair and feathers barrelled past, and leapt at the first Chead. The Chead stumbled backwards, surprise showing on its face, but at the last second the young girl pulled up short. The wild grin fell from her face as her jaw fell open.
“Oh…” she gulped, and retreated a step.
The Chead stared at her, its brow creased in confusion. The girl took another step back, then turned and hurled herself at Jasmine. Jasmine staggered as the tiny girl wrapped her arms around her leg. Righting herself, Jasmine looked around the room, eyes wide with shock. Then she reached down and put her arms around the trembling girl.
The first Chead had not moved during the exchange. It stood staring at the girl, its grey eyes suddenly hesitant, as though perplexed. Finally it looked back at Chris and raised an eyebrow. “Strange…” its nostrils flared, “strange… company, you keep.”
Shaking his head, Chris moved between Jasmine and the Chead. A feral anger rose in his chest as his patience snapped, giving way to steely resolve. He took a step forward, until he stood face to face with the Chead, and stared into its icy eyes.
“What are you doing here?” he growled. “Why did you save us from the soldiers?”
