Retaliation (The Praegressus Project Book 3)

by Aaron Hodges

  Sam stumbled between the bodies towards them. Mira lay limp in his arms, her grey wings wrapped around her body, and his own face was pale as a ghost. Liz’s eyes travelled down, and saw the blood soaking through his trousers. Her heart lurched and she stepped forward and caught him as his leg gave way.

  “Exciting life you guys live,” he grated as she held him up.

  “Is she okay?” Liz asked, glancing down at Mira. The girl’s eyes were closed, but her wings hid any sign of injury. Then she looked around, her chest constricting in sudden panic. “Where’s Ashley?”

  Sam’s forehead creased as he looked around. “I thought she was right behind us,” he bit his lip and look at Mira, “Mira’s okay, I think. She’s still breathing.”

  Nodding, Liz spun, scanning the crowd for Ashley, but there was no sign of the red-headed girl. Chris had also disappeared into the chaos that had swept across Independence square. The courtyard had turned to pure chaos now. Bystanders stumbled through the throng of Mad Women, some attempting to flee while others sought the supposed safety of the soldiers. The chatter of gunfire echoed off the surrounding trees, sending people diving to the ground.

  The Mad Women themselves were trying to regroup around their fallen members. They stood together, arms locked to protect those who had been injured by the soldier’s bullets. Liz’s heart swelled at the sight, but beyond she could see the soldiers regrouping too. The Director was waving her arms, giving new orders, and already the men were turning in their direction. There were still too many for them to fight - especially with Sam and Mira injured, and Ashley missing.

  “Ah… is that normal?” Sam asked behind her.

  Looking around, Liz followed the direction of Sam’s gaze. A group of soldiers had surrounded Jasmine, but she didn’t seem too bothered about the situation. Her black wings snapped out as the soldiers pointed their rifles, and faster than thought she was among them. A man screamed as she caught him by the throat. The scream ended abruptly as his blood sprayed the air. Another man went down as Jasmine drove her foot into his knee, snapping the bone like plywood.

  Even Liz struggled to track Jasmine’s movements as she tore through the men like butter. They staggered back before her, some even turning to flee, but none escaped. A low growl rumbled from Jasmine’s throat as she felled the last man, and spun in search of her next victim. Her eyes settled on a nearby woman, and she started towards her.

  “Jasmine!” Liz shrieked.

  Jasmine didn’t respond, but she paused midstride and turned towards them. Liz’s heart lurched in her chest as she found herself staring into the hard-grey eyes of the Chead. A deep, guttural growl came from Jasmine’s throat as her lips drew back in a snarl. The hackles on the Liz’s neck stood on end and feathers bristling, she placed herself between Jasmine and Sam.

  “Jasmine, stop!” Liz screamed as the girl stepped towards them. “Don’t do this!”

  12

  A dull grin spread across Jasmine’s lips as she crooked her head. Liz swallowed a scream as the grey eyes studied her with detached curiosity. Glancing back at Sam, their eyes met. He nodded at her and climbing to his feet, started to move away.

  Liz turned back just in time for Jasmine’s fist to connect with her face. She reeled backwards as stars flashed across her vision, and only the instinctive beat of her wings kept her upright. Snarling, Jasmine came at her again, and Liz groaned as a boot slammed into her chest. Air exploded between her teeth and she bent in two, struggling to breathe.

  Sensing the need to move, she dove to the side as Jasmine attacked again. The girl stumbled past, and Liz’s wing flashed out to catch her in the face. The blow threw Jasmine off balance, giving Liz time to recover. Straightening, she watched as the taller girl began to circle her. A cold fury lit in Liz’s chest, but she pressed it down, fearful of what might happen if she unleashed it. The last thing they needed was two Chead on the loose.

  She leapt as Jasmine came at her again, her boot lashing out for the other girl’s hip. But Jasmine was quicker still, and spinning, she swept up an arm to catch Liz by the leg.

  Liz screamed as Jasmine lifted her up and then hurled her bodily into the crowd. She crashed into the Mad Women and went down in a pile of tangled bodies. Fear prickled Liz’s neck as she struggled to stand while trying not to let her skin touch the civilians. Before she could free herself, a hand reached down and grasped her by the shirt.

  Her stomach lurched as Jasmine jerked her up. Raising her arms in front of her face, Liz managed to block the first punch, before the second caught her square in the forehead. Her head snapped back, her neck jarring from the force of the blow. Before Jasmine could land a third, Liz twisted in her grip, and bunching up her legs, drove them straight into the taller girl’s chest.

  The kick broke Jasmine’s grip and propelled Liz backwards through the air. Beating down hard with her wings, Liz steadied herself in the air and then dropped lightly to the ground.

  She straightened as Jasmine gave a high-pitched screech. The other girl hurtled at her, her fingers clenched like claws, her teeth glinting in the morning sun. Liz leapt to meet her, and they came together in a clash of fists and feathers. For a second, Liz managed to fend her off. But Jasmine was no longer herself. The rage behind her grey eyes fed her strength, and Liz could not match it. A blow caught her in the chest, then the head, and suddenly she found herself on her knees.

  Gasping, Liz rolled to the side as Jasmine slammed her foot into the tiles where she’d been kneeling. A shriek of frustration chased after her, and Liz struggled to regain her feet. But her vision swam and energy fled her tired limbs. She slumped against the cold stone.

  Jasmine stepped towards her, a grin spreading across her face. Liz looked up as the other girl raised her fist, and without thinking she reached up to catch the blow. The force of the punch rocked Liz backwards, but she wrapped her hands around Jasmine’s fist and held on tight.

  Baring her teeth, Jasmine snarled and struggled to free herself from Liz’s grip. Silently, Liz began to count as Jasmine raised her other arm, praying for the Nematocytes to take effect. How long had it taken for Chris to feel their bite?

  Sparks flew across Liz’s vision as Jasmine’s fist slammed into her unprotected face, but still she did not release the other girl. But as the second blow struck, all her strength seemed to fade away, and Jasmine roared as she tore herself free.

  Liz slumped back against the cold stone, darkness swirling at the edges of her vision. Jasmine stood over her. Snarling, she lifted her boot. Then she paused, and a flicker passed across her face. Her eyes widened, and for a second the grey seemed to flicker. And suddenly she was screaming and staggering back, tearing desperately at the arm Liz had held.

  Then Chris stepped up behind Jasmine, and drove his clenched fists down on the back of her head. She collapsed without a sound, and reaching out, Chris caught her beneath one arm. Hauling her onto his shoulder, he looked down at Liz.

  “You okay?” he asked, his brow creased.

  Liz blinked, her vision still swirling, and shook her head. The movement made her stomach wrench, and rolling onto her side, she threw up the measly remains of her breakfast. She sensed Chris beside her and felt his hand on her back. Looking up from her knees, she caught a glimpse of the Director. She and the remaining soldiers were marching towards them, pushing their way through the remnants of the crowd.

  Groaning, Liz forced herself to her knees, then her feet. She staggered slightly, and Chris struggled to help her with Jasmine still slumped over his shoulder.

  “Where are the others?” she croaked.

  Chris nodded behind her, and turning she saw Sam standing near the remaining Mad Women. Ashley had reappeared beside him, and now carried the unconscious Mira in her arms. There was no sign of Jonathan, but Liz guessed he had probably fled in the chaos. Together, Liz and Chris stumbled across to join them.

  “That’s everyone,” Sam commented, his voice strained. He nodded in the direction of the approa
ching Director. “Now what?”

  Looking back, Liz swallowed as she saw the soldiers converging on them. Some were already lifting their rifles, and from this distance they couldn’t miss. They glanced at the Director, awaiting her orders. Liz gritted her teeth and closed her eyes as the woman raised her arm.

  But instead of the roar of gunfire, the patter of soft shoes on stone followed. Opening her eyes, Liz gaped as the Mad Women moved between them and the soldiers. Unbent, undaunted by the burly men and their guns, they stood in the line of fire, and shielded Liz and the others with their bodies.

  A shout carried through the crowd as the Director demanded they stand aside, but the Mad Women didn’t move. A moment later a woman screamed as the soldiers started to force their way through, but to Liz’s relief, no more shots were fired.

  “Come, they can’t hold them for long,” a woman’s voice came from beside them.

  Liz turned as an old woman stepped up to them. She blinked, realising it was the same woman who had defied the Director earlier. How she had evaded the first wave of soldiers, Liz couldn’t guess, but all she could do was nod as the woman sheparded them around the obelisk. Together they sprinted across the square and ducked into the shelter of the trees.

  “What about them?” Chris cried as screams chased after them.

  The old woman was struggling to keep up, and she shook her head without breaking stride. Together they burst from the trees out onto the streets. The towering spire of the obelisk disappeared as they turned a corner. Ahead, tyres screeched as a van pulled off the road and drove up onto the sidewalk. The sliding door rattled open and a man gestured frantically at them. Without hesitating, they threw themselves inside as the woman climbed into the passenger seat.

  Then the van was racing away, disappearing into the winding streets of San Francisco, and all Liz could do was stare at the others in shock. They stared back at her, eyes wide, feathers ruffled, and clothes bloodied. They looked just as lost as her. Sucking in a breath, Liz tried to make sense of the scenes in the square, and failed.

  What the hell is going on?

  13

  When the darkness finally retreated and Susan woke, she was surprised to find herself alive. But when she opened her eyes, she immediately wished she could return to the darkness. She was lying on the floor in the laboratory again, but she was no longer the Chead’s only prisoner. Around her, the other doctors stood in various states of dress. Some wore only nightgowns, while others had managed to pull on yesterday’s clothes before the Chead had come for them. There was still no sign of any guards, and Susan shuddered to think what had become of them.

  Blinking in the harsh overhead lights, she turned towards the doorway. Her heart sank. There were now half a dozen Chead gathered around the door. Their soft whispers carried across the room, but Susan couldn’t make out what they were saying. For now they seemed to be ignoring their prisoners, but with them standing in the only exit, there was still no chance of escape.

  Susan gritted her teeth as she sat up, her muscles screaming their protests. The other doctors glanced at her, but no one moved to help. She cursed under her breath and slowly struggled to her feet. Glancing at the others, she wondered why they were all still alive. What were the Chead planning to do with them?

  She looked around as the creatures in the doorway fell silent. The group of Chead had straightened, and their eyes alert now. An expectant silence hung in the air, and Susan craned her neck, trying to get a glimpse of the doorway. The other doctors began to whisper as a woman stepped into the laboratory.

  “Silence!” one of the Chead roared, and the whispers died.

  The doctors around Susan shrank back, and she managed to get a proper look at the newcomer. She blinked, her mouth falling open. An old woman stood in the doorway, her eyes glazed white, her long black hair streaming down around her face. Her cheeks were creased with age, and her shoulders were hunched and shrunken. But despite her advanced years, there was no mistaking the power she held over the creatures around her. They made way before her, and watched in silence as she approached the terrified group of doctors.

  As the woman advanced, one of the doctors stumbled forward. She reached out an arm towards the old woman. “Please, help us, the Chead–”

  Her words broke off as the old woman stepped up and caught her by the throat. Lifting her into the air with a strength that belied her age, she studied the doctor with her cold white eyes.

  Only then did Susan realise the truth. The wizened old woman wasn’t human at all – she was Chead, her eyes turned white with the premature aging caused by the virus. But how was that possible? The woman had not been one of the Chead that had escaped the facility. So where had she come from?

  The doctor in the old Chead’s grip gave a strangled cry, her eyes bulging as she kicked feebly. An awful grin spread across the Chead’s face, revealing perfect white teeth, and again the doctor cried out. With shocking finality, something went crack, and blood sprayed the air.

  Susan screamed and stumbled backwards. She slapped a hand across her mouth, struggling to contain her horror as her stomach roiled. Then she was on her knees, throwing up the half-digested remnants of her last meal.

  The doctor’s body gave a wet thud as it struck the ground and lay still. Looking across, Susan gasped as she found the doctor’s eyes wide open and staring at her. A horrible gurgling came from her mouth as blood gushed from her throat.

  Susan quickly looked away, her stomach still churning. A dull moan rattled up from her chest.

  “This is all... of them?” the old Chead spoke in a dry, rasping voice.

  “All the ones… still alive,” the one she recognised as Hecate answered. He nodded towards Susan and she scrambled backwards. “That one… led us to… what we sought.”

  “Did she now?” the old Chead grinned and strode towards Susan.

  Susan cried out and tried to back away, but the doctors behind her shoved her forward, eager to avoid becoming the Chead’s next victim. She looked back at them, silently begging for them to help her, but they retreated together into the corner, leaving her alone in the middle of the room.

  Still on the ground, Susan looked up at the old Chead. She trembled as the pale white eyes found hers. It took every last drop of her courage not to look away. For a moment, it felt as though she was being inspected. Finally she could take it no more, and closing her eyes, she looked away.

  The old Chead laughed. “Hecate, what do you know… of this woman?”

  “Nothing, Talisa,” Hecate replied. “She is… new. She was not one of… them.”

  Opening her eyes, Susan saw the direction of Hecate’s gaze. The Chead was staring at the group of doctors. A dark rage danced behind its eyes, and suddenly she was glad they hadn’t let her hide amongst them.

  The doctors, if possible, shrank more beneath the old Chead’s gaze. A smile curled across her ancient lips. “Very well then,” it laughed. “She is yours…if she accepts.”

  Hecate bowed, and a smile touched the creature’s lips. “If you wish… Talisa.”

  “We shall give her the choice,” Talisa replied, “You have it?”

  “Yes, though we have not…tested it.”

  “All the better,” Susan shrank as the white eyes returned to her, “What is your name, girl?”

  Susan pressed herself flat against the floor. Slowly the question seeped through her mind, and she managed to stammer out an answer. “Su… Susan.”

  The old Chead leaned down, until its face was less than an inch from Susan’s. She tried to shrink away, but firm hands reached out and caught her by the chin.

  “Do you wish to live… Susan?” the old voice whispered in her ear.

  Susan’s heart lurched, and she glanced at Hecate, then back to the old Chead. “Ye… yes.”

  The Chead nodded. “Excellent,” it held out its hand, and Hecate placed something in it, “Then you have a choice… join us… or join them,” it nodded to the other doctors.


  Opening its hand, the old Chead revealed the vial in its palm. Even without reading the label, Susan knew what it was. PERV-ALPHA – the Chead virus she had led Hecate straight to. Her stomach twisted and she struggled to breathe. Choking, she tried to break free of the Chead’s grasp, to turn and flee and never look back.

  But the old Chead only watched her, its eyes devoid of emotion.

  “Choose,” Talisa hissed.

  Susan stilled at the command. She looked around the room, taking in the fear in the eyes of the other doctors, the blood pooling on the floor, her colleague staring at her with dead eyes. She shuddered as she looked back at the Chead.

  I don’t want to die.

  Closing her eyes, she nodded, and held out her hand. Ice tingled in her veins as the tube and a syringe were placed in her palm.

  “Do it,” Talisa ordered, “Now.”

  Susan nodded. With trembling hands, she prepared the syringe. Taking a deep breath, she slid the needle into the rubber top of the tube, and watched as the clear liquid disappeared into the syringe. A tremor ran through her as she held it up to the light, checking for bubbles. She tried not to think, not to contemplate what she was about to do.

  Looking up, she found the grey eyes of the Chead watching her, and quickly looked away.

  Do it, don’t think, she ordered herself.

  Looking at her arm, she contemplated her pale flesh. What would it be like, to change? She realised they had never bothered to ask the survivors. The government had only ever hunted them, slaughtering them wherever they were found. Those few that were captured were imprisoned in places like this, to be the subject of their experiments, or occasionally to breed if they were running short on subjects.

  Susan took another breath, and her trembling stilled. Closing her eyes, she slid the needle into her flesh, and pressed down. When the plunger had depressed the entire way, she carefully pulled the needle out, and hurled it away.