Retaliation (The Praegressus Project Book 3)

by Aaron Hodges

  “I got bored. I figured the TV wouldn’t wake you guys up if I put it on mute. The only news bigger than you was us,” his smile faded, “Why did you do it? Surely you know…”

  “I know,” Sam cut him off. His heart twisted and he struggled to keep his voice steady, “Believe me, I know.”

  “Then why?”

  Sam shook his head. “He saved her, Chris,” he whispered, “Halt saved her – and then threatened to kill her if I didn’t help him. He broke her fingers in front of me, and there was nothing either of us could do to stop him. I…I didn’t have a choice.”

  His voice cracked at the end, and he hung his head. Guilt welled in his chest, threatening to drown him. Whatever he said, Sam had known it was wrong – that by helping Halt he was condemning countless others to torture and death. How many other children would they take for their sick experiments, now that he’d helped them win the public’s support? How many more would die in agony?

  “I understand,” he looked up as Chris spoke. A frown creased the boy’s face. “Is that why Ashley seems so… different?”

  Sam shivered. “I don’t know what he did to her… afterwards,” he shook his head. “Halt wouldn’t let me see her. Just sent me to teach those two kids what they could do.”

  “Who were they?”

  “The only ones who survived the second strain of the virus,” Sam replied, “Paul and Francesca. We weren’t… close. But… I shouldn’t have left them there, not like that…”

  He shivered as he remembered his last glimpse of Paul and Francesca. Ashley had managed to unlock his collar, but before they could free Paul and Francesca, the soldiers had appeared. They’d left them writhing in agony on the courthouse floor, with however many volts of electricity surging through their bodies.

  “There wasn’t any time,” Chris offered, “We barely made it out of there as it was.”

  “I know,” Sam shook his head, “But I still left them.”

  Silence fell between them, but as Sam’s thoughts began to drift, Chris spoke again, “Do you think she’ll be alright?”

  Sam sighed. He looked across at the bundle of blankets where Ashley slept, turning the question over and over in his mind. In the heat of their escape, he’d thought Ashley had been fine. But as the cocktail of drugs and adrenaline in her system had faded, she’d grown quiet. By the time they reached this apartment, the light-hearted girl they all knew so well had become withdrawn, her manner silent and jumpy.

  “I don’t know,” he whispered finally, “I hope so. Halt’s dead, we all saw him die. He can’t haunt her forever.”

  For a while Chris didn’t reply, and looking across Sam saw him staring at Ashley. When Chris spoke again, his voice was firm. “She will,” he looked at Sam and smiled, “Hell, she’s tougher than any of us. She just needs time to heal.”

  Sam chuckled and rubbed his neck where the collar had burned him. “I think we all do,” he shook his head, “How long do you think we’ll be safe here?”

  “Not long enough,” Chris mused, “They’ll be looking in all the obvious places first, but sooner or later someone will think to check here. Hopefully we’ll have tomorrow. It wouldn’t be a good idea to go out during daylight. Tomorrow night we should try and move.”

  Sam suppressed a groan. “Any thoughts on where–” he trailed off as Chris suddenly raised a hand.

  Clamping his mouth shut, Sam turned to stare at the door. For a moment he thought Chris was being paranoid. Then he heard them – the distant thud of footsteps, coming closer.

  As one, Chris and Sam rose to their feet. Sam glanced at Chris, and then back at the door.

  It could be anyone, he reassured himself. Just someone returning home late at night.

  But still the footsteps grew closer. There were four apartments on each floor, with a short corridor and landing shared between them. When they’d first heard the footsteps, the sounds had echoed as though the intruders were in the stairwell. Now it was obvious the footsteps had reached their floor, and were approaching down the corridor outside.

  Go past, go past, Sam silently willed the walker.

  Then abruptly the footsteps ceased.

  Right outside their door.

  4

  Susan shivered as a cold breeze blew across her neck. Picking up the pace, she strode down the starch-white corridors of the facility, eager to reach the laboratory. She was on the night shift, and while they were short several key personal, things had only grown busier over the past few weeks. The Praegressus Facility was now in full production mode, working to prepare commercial quantities of the PERV-A strain of virus. Despite its imperfections, the government had advanced its production cycle in response to the mounting risk of Chead attacks.

  The remaining geneticists were attempting to refine the virus between reproduction cycles, using blood samples taken from the failed candidates to identify areas for improvement. To reduce the immunoresponse in hosts, several strands of DNA had been removed from the virus that could be used by immune systems to identify it as a foreign organism. Susan and the other doctors hoped this would reduce the need for immunosuppressants with future hosts.

  Even so, they were still a long way from a viable product. Optimistic estimations suggested the new success rate might be as high as 65% - still far too low to risk WAS soldiers. But the government had promised a fresh batch of candidates would arrive any day now. Word was they were to omit all initial trials, and proceed straight to viral administration.

  Susan shivered at the thought. She’d arrived at the facility during their last round of testing, and had struggled with the ethics behind the framework that new candidates were subjected too. She knew they were already sentenced to death, but she still couldn’t help but empathise with them. And when it had come to the introduction of the virus, it had almost been too much. For weeks, the corridors of the facility had stunk of death, as the doctors tried and failed to keep the hosts alive.

  Yet in the end, the sacrifice had proven a success. She had watched in awe with the other doctors as the two hosts faced off against the Chead, and matched it blow for blow. Caught up in the excitement, Susan had been honoured to administer the final injection to the survivors after the fight. There had been a moment of guilt, when she’d lied to the boy about the injection’s contents, but the results…

  She smiled as she turned a corner, remembering the sight of wings slowly growing from their backs. It was a miracle – a breakthrough beyond anything that had been achieved before. When the virus was perfected, the Chead would be resigned to history.

  Thinking of the creatures, Susan shivered as she remembered Fallow’s betrayal. She still could not believe what had happened, what a woman she’d thought of as a friend had done to them. Releasing the candidates had been one thing – but the Chead?

  Susan had already retired to her room when the alarms had sounded that night. It was probably the only thing that had saved her. Safe behind the bolted steel door, she had listened to the shriek of the alarm, wondering what disaster they signalled. For a while, she had thought about going outside, in case a fire was creeping slowly towards her. But the facility protocols were clear – in the event of an alarm, doctors were to return to their quarters and await further instruction.

  Thankfully, she had followed procedure. It had not been long before the first screams reached her. Outside the safety of her room, the guards had fought bravely, the chirp of their machine guns echoing loudly in the long corridors of the facility. Apparently they had managed to kill several of the creatures, before the rest finally fled. But their victory had come at a cost, and by the time Halt led them after the escaped candidates, there were only a few men left standing.

  Steeling herself, Susan pushed away the image of the bodies she’d seen in the aftermath. The corridors had been red with blood, and few of the Chead’s victims remained in one piece. Even now the thought made her sick.

  Heading down another corridor, Susan silently cursed the size of the plac
e and the distance between the laboratory and her sleeping quarters. Thankfully, more guards had been brought in now, enough to patrol the outer walls as well as the hallways, and she was finally beginning to feel safe again.

  She could hear a guard approaching now. The light thud of his boots carried around the next corner, growing closer. Putting a smile on her face, Susan picked up the pace, wondering who else had drawn the night shift. Knowing the difficulty she’d had when she’d first arrived, she had done her best to befriend the burly newcomers. Though their roles were vastly different, they were all working towards a common cause, and she knew most of the guards by name now.

  Susan was already beginning to speak a greeting as she turned the corner, but the words caught in her throat as she saw who waited for her. She gaped, her mouth falling open as her heart lurched in her chest. She tried to scream, but no sound came out. Clutching her hand to her breast, Susan stared into the cold grey eyes of the boy standing in front of her.

  He wore a torn orange jumpsuit stained brown with mud, and his greasy black hair shone in the fluorescent lights. Blood covered his arms and face, congealing beneath his filthy fingernails. A smile twisted on his lips as his grey eyes watched her, unblinking. Sleek muscles rippled along his arms as he stepped towards her.

  Susan watched, frozen in place, unable to move for her terror. Only as it stretched out an arm towards her did she finally snap out of her trance. Turning, Susan fled. She didn’t make it three steps before the Chead caught her.

  5

  Chris stared at the door handle, breath held, waiting for it to turn. Sam crouched beside him, his eyes wide, his lips pressed tightly together. His ears twitched, catching the distant rattle of a keychain. He frowned, glancing at Sam again, and wondering who would be returning home so late at night.

  The clatter of keys hitting the floor was unbelievably loud in the silence of the apartment, even through the propped-up remnants of their door. Then the person outside was moving again, the thud of their footsteps retreating down the corridor, picking up speed.

  Cursing, Chris leapt at the door and hurled it aside. A shout came from along the corridor as he bounded outside and turned in the direction of the footsteps. Halfway down the hallway he glimpsed a man looking back at him, his face pale in the darkness. The man’s eyes widened and he tripped over his own legs in his effort to flee.

  Chris raced down the corridor as the man struggled back to his feet. He kept his wings tight against his back as he closed the gap, his powerful legs closing the distance in seconds. Bounding into the air, he crashed into the man’s back and bore him to the ground.

  “No, let me go!” His victim writhed, struggling to break free.

  A fist flashed for Chris’s face but he caught it with ease. He twisted the man’s arm behind his back, then cursed as another scream echoed down the corridor. He glanced at the doors of the other apartments, but there was no sign of movement. Without any other choice, Chris rapped his fist on the back of the man’s skull. Though he held back, the man slumped to the ground without another sound.

  Panting softly, Chris stood and stared down at his victim. The man was still breathing, although he wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not. He shook his head and reaching down, dragged the unconscious man back into their apartment. On the way inside, he scooped up the keys his victim had dropped. The number on the tag matched the one beside their broken door. This was his apartment.

  Sam waited inside, and as Chris dragged his victim through the doorway, he quickly put the broken door back in place. Little good it had done them – the man had clearly realised something was wrong before he’d fled. It was only a matter of time before the neighbours realised too. Or perhaps they already had, and simply didn’t care.

  Dumping his victim beside the dining table, Chris straightened and looked around the room. The commotion had apparently woken the others. They now stood around the apartment in various states of shock and fear. Ashley hadn’t moved from where she had been sleeping, but her amber eyes were wide as she stared at the man on the floor. Liz hovered near the doorway, her head tilted as she listened for signs of movement.

  Only Jasmine seemed capable of action. Shrugging off Mira’s embrace, she strode across the living room and glared down at the intruder.

  “Who the hell is this?” she growled.

  Without waiting for Chris to answer, she crouched down and began rummaging through the man’s pockets.

  “He lives here,” Chris said warily, holding up the keys to the apartment. “It must be Danny’s husband. Didn’t she mention something about him being away?”

  Sam only shook his head, but Liz nodded. “I forgot. How could we have been so careless?”

  On the ground, Jasmine snorted, then held up a wallet in triumph. Standing, she wandered around the room as she flicked through the contents. Then she stilled and turned back towards them, a white identification card in her hand.

  “He’s from the government,” she hissed.

  “What?” Chris and Liz asked as one. He glanced at Liz, but she only shook her head and looked away.

  Crossing the room, Chris took the card from Jasmine. The man in the photograph stared back at him. His brown hair had been combed flat and he looked a few years younger than the forty-year-old Chris had tackled in the hallway, but there was no mistaking him. The ID named him as Jonathan Baker. Beneath his name were the words ‘Government Employee’.

  Chris shivered and handed the card back to Jasmine. “Danny said he was a translator…” he murmured.

  “A translator for them,” Jasmine snapped.

  She crouched beside the man again and grabbed a handful of his hair. Tugging back his head, she looked up at them, her lips twisted in a scowl. There was a fire burning in her eyes, and Chris had to steel himself not to look away.

  “Let’s throw him out the window,” Jasmine suggested.

  “No,” Chris shook his head. “He’s done nothing to us.”

  “Yet,” Jasmine snapped. “You want to wait until he does?”

  “We can’t kill him, not in cold blood.” Chris swallowed. “That would only make us as bad as them.”

  Jasmine gave a dry, rasping laugh. Releasing Jonathan’s hair, her hand moved to his throat. “You wouldn’t have to get your hands dirty, Chris,” she said. “I’ll gladly rip out his throat.”

  “No,” Chris took a step closer.

  “Are you going to stop me, Chris?” Jasmine’s eyes flashed, “Are you really defending him? He works for the government – the same people who tortured us, who killed Richard.”

  “So did my parents,” Chris looked around as a faint voice came from the pile of blankets. On the floor, Ashley straightened. “They didn’t have a choice. They did what they had too, to protect me and my sister,” her voice shook as she finished, but she did not look away.

  For a moment, Jasmine didn’t move. The veins stood out on her arms, though her hand was still loose around Jonathan’s throat. Watching her, Chris swallowed, knowing she could kill the man long before he reached her.

  Finally, Jasmine shook her head and sneered. Releasing Jonathan, she stood. “He may not have betrayed us, but remember what they did,” she nodded in the direction of the bedroom, “His wife turned us in.”

  “She didn’t know any better,” Liz offered. She moved across the room to join them, squaring off against the taller girl. “They thought we were criminals, fugitives. And they paid for what they did with their lives.”

  Jasmine snorted, but Chris could see some of the rage had gone from her eyes. Liz stretched out a hand and placed it on Jasmine’s shoulder over her t-shirt.

  “It’s not his fault either, Jas,” Liz whispered.

  Jasmine’s eyes shimmered and she quickly looked away. “What do we do with him then?”

  “Let’s start by tying him up,” Sam offered. He moved to the closet in the wall and began rummaging inside. A few minutes later he emerged holding a spool of thick wool. “Guess this w
ill have to do.”

  Chris nodded and moved to help Sam secure their prisoner. The girls didn’t speak as they worked, and Chris hoped they were thinking of a more long-term plan.

  “That should hold him,” Sam clapped his hands as they finished.

  They had bound Jonathan’s hands tight behind his back with the wool, and then jammed a ball of the stuff into his mouth to keep him from crying out. Chris hoped he wouldn’t suffocate, although he supposed that would at least solve the problem his appearance had created.

  “The sun will be up soon,” Jasmine commented, “If we’re not killing him, what are we doing?”

  Chris knuckled his forehead, his mind sluggish from lack of sleep. He looked around the room, searching for inspiration, but the plain white walls offered no hints for their next move.

  “They’re all against us now, you know,” he looked up as Jasmine spoke again.

  “What do you mean?” Chris asked.

  “Humanity – the whole bloody lot of them,” Jasmine looked around at them, “Hecate was right. After what we saw on the news, they’ll all be hunting for us now.”

  Chris shivered, but he couldn’t find the words to refute her. Shaking his head, Chris stared at Jonathan, watching as his chest slowly rose and fell.

  “If he was getting home at this hour, I doubt anyone will be expecting to see him today,” Liz said finally, “That means we should be safe here until tonight at least. We won’t have to leave during daylight hours.”

  “So we leave after dark?” Sam asked.

  “Maybe…” Liz mused.

  Chris looked up at the tone in her voice. Liz’s eyes were distant as she stared down at the intruder, and Chris waited a moment before pressing her further.

  “Liz… what are you thinking?” he asked.

  Liz blinked and shook her head. She looked around, her blue eyes finding Chris’s. For once she did not look away. “We all know what it’s like to lose a loved one. He’s just lost his whole world – the least we can do is tell him the truth.”