Retaliation (The Praegressus Project Book 3)

by Aaron Hodges

  “Now…” Jonathan croaked, “Now it’s too late, isn’t it? I thought if I behaved, if I did what they asked and turned a blind eye, that my family would be safe.”

  He turned back to them. His face tightened as he clenched his jaw, and his red-stained eyes swept over the six of them. “I want to hurt them,” he grated, “I want to make the ones who did this pay.”

  Liz’s heart hammered against her ribcage as she looked into his eyes, and saw the rage there, the untapped hatred.

  “How?” she asked.

  Jonathan sucked in a breath, and the tension went from him. A smile touched his lips. “That’s the thing, isn’t it?” he shook his head, “How do you bring down a government?”

  “We’ve been wondering the same thing,” Chris offered. “It’s not an easy task, with the world against you.”

  “You need allies,” Jonathan replied, “You need a movement, need people who will stand with you against the government.”

  Jasmine snorted. “Let us know when you find one.”

  Jonathan’s smile widened. “It just so happens, I already have.”

  8

  Susan gasped as the Chead shoved her backwards into the laboratory. Her feet tripped on the slick floor and she crashed down onto the hard linoleum. The impact sent the breath rushing from her lungs. Choking, she scrambled backwards, trying to put as much space between herself and the Chead as possible.

  Cold laughter chased her across the room. Finding herself in a corner, Susan looked back at them, the cold fingers of her terror clutching at her throat. They stood in the doorway watching her, but they made no effort to give chase.

  Swallowing a scream, Susan struggled to get a grip on her fear. Her heart was racing and panic had already set in, robbing her of reason. She sucked in a long, shuddering breath, and felt a little better.

  Where did they come from? How did they get in?

  She crouched in the corner and looked up at them, struggling to make sense of the nightmare. Two more Chead had joined the first. They stood around the doorway, barring the only exit, their clothes stained with mud and blood. They whispered amongst themselves, but Susan couldn’t make out the words over the pounding of blood in her ears.

  They went silent as she started to stand, and their grey eyes turned to watch her. She stilled, but when they made no move towards her, she straightened the rest of the way. A quick glance around the lab confirmed her fear. There was only one panic button in this room – the one on the wall beside the doorway, right behind the Chead.

  “Hecate…” Susan jumped as a fourth Chead appeared in the doorway, “The others are… secure.”

  The Chead that had taken her turned towards the newcomer. “Good,” a smile touched the creature’s lips, “Bring them here… and send word… to Talisa. It is safe… for her.”

  The other Chead nodded and disappeared back into the corridor, leaving Susan alone with the other three. Standing in the corner, she shivered as a memory tugged at her.

  Hecate.

  The name was familiar. It was Greek in origin. Halt was fond of such names… And suddenly she remembered where she’d heard it. She looked up at the Chead again, her stomach wrenching. She recognised its face now, knew the long black hair. This was one of the creatures that had escaped all those weeks ago, when Fallow had released them from their cells.

  A low groan came from her throat, and the creature’s eyes flickered back to her. She sank back to the ground as it padded across the room. It looked down at her for a moment, and then crouched beside her.

  She wrapped her arms around her chest and looked away, but iron fingers grabbed her by the chin and forced her to look back.

  “Such fearful creatures,” Hecate’s words were mocking, “There is such… terror within you.”

  Tears burned in Susan’s eyes. “Please,” she croaked, “Don’t hurt me.”

  A dry, rasping laughter came from the Chead. Its nostrils flared as it studied her, tasting the air. “You are… new,” its grin spread, “Perhaps you will… help me?”

  Susan nodded, grasping for the lifeline. “Yes! Whatever you want! Just… don’t hurt me.”

  The laughter came again as the grey eyes flickered around the room. They were in one of the laboratories, and the benches were crowded with various machines and test tubes. Some were still whirring gently on the benchtop as they finished their cycles. She frowned, wondering where the doctor in charge was, before she noticed the pool of blood staining the floor behind one of the benches.

  “Where is our…” the creature frowned, pausing as it thought, “Where is our… creator?”

  “Creator?” Susan asked, her voice cracking with her terror. She shook her head. “I don’t… I don’t understand.”

  The Chead growled. Before she could react, its hand flashed out and caught her by the throat. With its immense strength, the Chead hauled her up, impossible to resist, and slammed her back against the wall. She gasped, struggling to inhale as its fingers began to squeeze.

  “Please…” she managed to whisper as darkness swirled at the edges of her vision.

  Without warning, Hecate released her and she crumpled to the ground. Eyes watering, she sucked in a breath, coughing as oxygen flooded her lungs.

  “Tell me…” Hecate growled, “Where… is that which… created us?”

  On her hands and knees, Susan looked up at the creature, her oxygen-starved mind struggling to decipher its demand. Slowly the cogs in her mind turned over, and she shuddered, realising there was only one thing the Chead could mean.

  “The virus?” she whispered, “You want the virus… that made you?”

  The creature’s smile returned. “Yes…”

  Susan nodded. “We… we have some… we have some in storage,” she stammered.

  “Take me.”

  “Okay,” gathering herself, Susan carefully climbed to her feet, using the wall as support. She looked at the creature and taking another breath, nodded to the doorway. “It’s that way.”

  Laughter rasped from the creature’s throat as it stepped aside to let her pass.

  The virus storage facility wasn’t far, and Susan moved past the other Chead and out into the corridor on trembling legs. Hecate followed close on her heels, and they made their way quickly down the long corridors without incident.

  A few minutes later, Susan drew to a stop outside a heavy metal door. She glanced at the Chead, wondering whether to say she didn’t have the key, but one look in its grey eyes was enough to dismiss the idea. Reaching into her pocket, she retrieved her key card and unlocked the door. Air hissed as the lock released, and she stepped inside. Before she could slam in shut behind her, the Chead stepped after her.

  Inside, they found themselves in a little airlock facing a second door. A basin on one wall was used for scrubbing down after trips inside, and shower heads in the ceiling could be used in the case of accidental exposure. But fortunately, the viral samples they worked with were not airborne, and could only be transmitted through ingestion. That was how they believed the Chead virus had been spread through the nation – by deliberate contamination of food supplies. Texas was the usual suspect, although the Western Allied States were not short of enemies.

  Moving to the second airlock, Susan pushed the door open. Beyond, the air was cold, carrying with it the strong scent of bleach. The walls of the room were lined with freezer drawers where they stored the various strains of the virus. Each drawer was colour coded with the generation of virus and labelled with the individual strain. Most of the drawers were filled with the PERV-A strain they had been replicating for the last few weeks, but in the corner she could see the red label that marked the original Chead virus.

  “Where?” Susan jumped as the creature whispered in her ear.

  Nodding, she moved across to the freezer and pulled open the drawer. Inside, were tray upon tray of little glass vials. Each one contained a single dose of the virus. They had been frozen in liquid nitrogen before being stored in t
he freezer, and would remain viable so long as they were kept that way.

  She looked up as Hecate joined her. “This is the original virus,” she croaked, “It needs to be kept frozen.”

  “How… is it moved?”

  Susan swallowed, her eyes drawn across the room to the portable refrigerators. She nodded at them. “We… we send shipments sometimes… to other laboratories. Those… steel boxes are portable freezers. Their batteries can last twenty-four hours...” she trailed off as Hecate leaned down to study the vials in the drawer.

  “PERV-ALPHA,” it growled, “What is that?”

  “It’s… it’s… our official name for the Chead virus,” Susan stammered, “They… its infectious when ingested, or injected into the blood supply,” she rambled on, eager to fend off more questions.

  She fell silent as the grey eyes shifted back on her. A shiver ran through her and she took a quick step back, suddenly realising how close she was to the creature. Its hand flashed out to catch her wrist, drawing her back. She tried to squirm free, but it pressed against her, pinning her against the freezer.

  “You said… you said you’d let me go,” tears blurred her vision as a scream built in her throat.

  “Did I?” the Chead’s eyes bored into hers.

  It leaned towards her, its nostrils flaring, and she fought harder to break free. But its weight crushed her against the cold steel, leaving her with nowhere to go. The creature began to laugh, its eyes dancing with amusement at her feeble struggles. The sound wrapped around her, and Susan could contain her panic no longer.

  She tried to scream, but a hand clamped down over her mouth, cutting off her cries. Staring up into the grey eyes, Susan struggled to breathe, but its hand had blocked her nose too. She gave another muffled shriek, but it was hopeless. Eyes watering, the strength slowly fled her body. Her legs gave way beneath her, and the darkness came welling up to claim her.

  9

  Chris’s eyelids were drooping by the time he finally staggered down the corridor towards the bedroom. The conversation in the living room had gone on for hours, until in their exhaustion they began to repeat themselves. By then the day had crept into the afternoon, and Chris was well beyond the point of caring. He had hardly slept in forty-eight hours, and now he could barely keep his feet.

  The problem they were all struggling with was whether they could trust Jonathan. They had already been betrayed once – by his wife – and while they’d torn the phone out of the kitchen wall, Chris still couldn’t quite bring himself to believe this wasn’t all some elaborate trap.

  The second problem was the nature of the allies he had proposed they approach.

  The Mad Women.

  He shook his head, wondering if they were mad themselves to even consider the idea. How could a group of old women – however great their courage – help Chris and the others bring down the government? If Jonathan was right, they had managed to avoid retribution from the government so far, but Chris doubted that could last. Especially if word got out that the fugitives had contacted them.

  In the end, they had decided to visit the Mad Women’s protest in the morning. Chris had agreed more out of exhaustion than anything. With that finally settled, they had drifted off through the apartment. He’d caught Jasmine’s announcement that she would keep an eye on the ‘prisoner’ with Mira, but by then he was too tired to care. Hopefully Jonathan would survive a few hours in Jasmine and Mira’s tender care.

  Pushing open the door to the spare bedroom, he moved across to the bed and threw himself down on the soft mattress. Breathing in, he caught a whiff of Liz’s scent from the pillows and suppressed a groan. The look she’d given him earlier had been one of pure venom, and he regretted opening his mouth. He should have left her to rest.

  The door creaked and looking up, he was surprised to see her slip into the room. She stilled when she saw him, her mouth opening, one hand still on the door handle. An awkward silence stretched out, and Liz shifted on her feet, clearly anxious.

  “I’m sorry,” the words tumbled from her mouth in a rush.

  Chris tilted his head to the side. “For what?” he forced a smile.

  Liz shook her head and closed the door the rest of the way. “For snapping at you,” she moved across and sat on the corner of the bed. Her tone was flat. “For pushing you away.”

  Chris’s heart pounded hard against his chest. Liz sat looking away from him, her black wings hanging loosely to either side of her. He could sense the distance separating them, the gulf that had opened up in the corridors beneath the courthouse. He knew Liz was suffering, though she had said nothing about what had happened to her since their escape. She hadn’t even mentioned Halt, or how her very touch had burned his life away.

  “Liz…” he whispered. Reaching out a hand, he stroked the small of her back between her wings. “Liz, you haven’t pushed me away. I’m right here…”

  She flinched at his touch, but after a moment she relaxed, and he trailed his fingers up her back, taking care not to touch her skin. Shivering, she looked back at him, her blue eyes wide, and he saw the walls come tumbling down. Tears filled her eyes as she bit back a sob.

  “Chris…” she gasped, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I miss you…”

  “I’m right here, Liz,” he repeated.

  But she only shook her head and looked away again. She was still trembling beneath his fingers, her whole body tensed as though ready to flee.

  “I’m scared,” she whispered after a few minutes had passed. When she looked back at him her cheeks were streaked with tears, and Chris had to fight the urge to reach out and wipe them away. “I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”

  Somehow Chris found himself smiling. Perched on the corner of the bed, her curly black hair in tangles, her broad wings wrapped around her shoulders and her knees tucked underneath her, Liz was a mess. But in that moment, he realised how much he loved her. He loved her fierce nature, her fire and courage and determination when all seemed lost. Seeing her like this, vulnerable and afraid, finally shook him from his own fear.

  Taking a breath, he reached out and wiped the tears from Liz’s cheek. Her eyes widened, but he did not take his hand away. Instead, he trailed his fingers across her skin and up through her hair, until he cradled her head in his hand. Staring into her eyes, he waited.

  It started as a slight tingling sensation in the tips of his fingers, but it did not take long to spread. Pinpricks spread along his arm, as though tiny needles were stabbing him. The sensation grew hotter as it reached his chest. He gritted his teeth as the flames swept through him, determined to hold on as long as he could. Finally couldn’t take it any longer, and he carefully removed his hand and closed his eyes.

  Sucking in another breath, he struggled to control himself as the venom spread through his system. His body started to shake, and despite the fire dancing in his chest, he felt cold. The pain swept through him like the incoming tide, washing away his resistance, until he was panting hard just to keep himself from screaming.

  Then Liz’s hand was on his shoulder, squeezing gently through his t-shirt, and opening his eyes he saw her beside him, her eyes shining. He forced a smile, trying to reassure her, to let her know he was okay.

  A few minutes later, the pain began to recede, and he managed a more convincing grin. Liz gave a tentative smile back, and slowly shook her head.

  “Chris…” she said. “Why did you do that?”

  “To show you I could,” he looked her in the eye, fighting the urge to kiss her, “Because I love you.”

  Liz’s eyes watered and she closed them. Though she didn’t say anything, he could feel the distance between them shrink, could sense the change in her.

  “Think there’s room for one more on that bed?” she asked finally.

  Chris smiled and nodded. He wriggled over as far as he could as she slid beneath the blankets. With the remnants of the venom still sweeping through his system, he no longer felt the cold, and this way there was less risk of re
ceiving a second, accidental dose. Rolling on his side, he allowed his wings to unfold as he looked across at Liz.

  “What?” she asked when she saw him watching her. Laughter bubbled up from Chris’s chest. Liz had tucked the duvet up to her chin, leaving only her head exposed. Her hair tumbled out across the pillow, and her big blue eyes stared up at him innocently. “You didn’t want any, did you?”

  “No,” he replied with a grin. He shook his head. “Just… it’s good to have you back.”

  A smile flickered across her lips and a gentle silence stretched out. This time there was no tension between them, and Chris’s mind began to drift. He thought again about their plan, but he still couldn’t feel any enthusiasm for it. The Mad Women might be goodhearted and well-meaning, but what was that against their enemies? Halt might be gone, but the Director was no less terrifying. If anything, he was afraid she might prove even more ruthless than the despicable doctor.

  “What are you thinking about?” Liz whispered.

  Chris jumped and looked across at her, but her eyes were still closed. He sighed.

  “I was thinking we’re as insane as these so called Mad Women.”

  Her blue eyes flickered open. “Maybe,” she smiled, “Maybe not. Only time will tell. But at least we know one thing.”

  “Oh? And what’s that?”

  “I was right,” a smile spread across Liz’s lips, “About telling Jonathan about his family. You should listen to me more often.”

  Shaking his head, Chris raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright Liz, you were right. You can be the leader from now on.”

  “Good,” Liz nodded solemnly, “My first order of business is: stop hogging the blankets.”

  So saying, she yanked the blankets out from underneath Chris, sending him tumbling from the bed in a pile of limbs and tangled feathers.