by Aaron Hodges
The breath caught in her throat as she felt the liquid seeping through her arm. There was an alien strangeness to its presence. She gasped as the first tingles of pain began, like a pressure against her flesh. It spread quickly, moving to her shoulder, then her chest, then heart.
Groaning, Susan bent in two as agony wrapped around her body. Her skull prickled with a thousand pins and needles, and reaching up she tore at her hair, unable to bare the pain. Fire seared its way down her spine and she felt herself falling away. The darkness called, and she longed to embrace it. But the fire was all around her now, absolute, consuming, and she realised with horror the release of unconsciousness would not come.
A scream tore from her throat, and went on and on, until she tasted blood. A red light spread through her mind, consuming her, and slowly her sanity slipped away.
From the distance came an old woman’s voice. “Watch her, Hecate,” the voice said, “Until the change is complete.”
14
Chris still couldn’t believe his eyes. Two hours had passed since the fight in Independence Square, and they were finally safe, but he was still shaking. During the fight, and their wild escape in the rickety van, there had been no time to think. Now, as he stood at the head of the table looking around at the others, he should have been calm. Instead, his heart was racing like a runaway train.
Ashley and Liz sat to either side of him, their eyes shadowed with exhaustion. Each of them bore the cuts and bruises of their desperate battle. Their anger hung over the kitchen like a thick blanket, silencing all conversation. The others were resting in a makeshift infirmary in another room, where one of the Mad Women was examining their injuries.
Chris’s chest tightened as he thought of them. All three would apparently recover; but he knew his actions had put them at risk, that he had let them all down. Even so, he couldn’t bring himself to regret his recklessness – not this time. Not when he was standing here, looking across the table at a woman he had never thought he would see again.
She was the same woman who had stood in open defiance of the Director, the one he had raced forward to protect, the one who had led them all to safety.
Maria Sanders.
“Nana,” he gasped the word like a drowning man.
At the other end of the table, a smile spread across his grandmother’s face. The wrinkles around her cheeks deepened as her eyes glistened.
“Chris,” she whispered, “It really is you…”
Chris nodded. His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. There were none to describe what he was feeling. He found himself moving around the table, his eyes fixed on the woman he hadn’t seen in months, the woman he had long since given up for dead.
And then her warm arms were wrapping around him, embracing him, and he was crying big, heaving sobs into her shoulder. All the pain, all the grief and anger and horror came pouring out as he held his grandmother for dear life. And he could feel her shaking too, her own sorrow, her own loss a mirror of his own.
Finally Chris managed to regain some of his composure. Pulling away from her, he wiped away his tears. His grandmother smiled up at him, and then leaned forward and planted a kiss on his cheek.
“Nana…” Chris hiccupped, “She’s… she’s really gone?”
His grandmother’s face pinched and her hands tightened on his shoulders. “Yes,” her eyes closed for half a second, “I tried to find you both… but no one would help. They called me mad, called us all mad,” she laughed, the sound harsh and angry, “So we became the Mad Women.”
Chris nodded, struggling to swallow another wave of grief. Taking a breath, he turned back to the others.
“This is… this is my nana, Maria Sanders,” he croaked.
Ashley and Liz’s eyes widened, confusion adding to their anger and exhaustion. Beside him, his grandmother gestured to the seat at the head of the table. Nodding, Chris moved back to his chair. Ashley and Liz watched him, their eyes still hard, but his announcement seemed to have taken the edge from their anger. At the other end of the table, his grandmother sat and looked around at them.
“Welcome, all of you,” Maria smiled, “And thank you for coming to my rescue.”
“Thank Chris,” Liz said, shooting him a glance, “We followed his lead.”
“Even so, thank you,” his grandmother stared at Liz until she looked away, “I’ve often wondered who you were, all of you so called ‘terrorists’ who have been keeping my grandson company on the evening news. Although you gave us quite a fright when you first appeared today. I thought teenagers with wings were meant to be fighting for the other side…”
A strained silence greeted her question. His grandmother looked from Ashley to Liz, waiting for a response. Chris let out a long breath, knowing he had to face what he’d done.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed, staring down at the table, “I should never have put you at risk like that. It was stupid and reckless, and I could have gotten us all killed. But when I saw them advancing on her, I didn’t even think.”
He jumped as Ashley placed her hand on his wrist. “Chris, it’s okay,” she whispered, her eyes suddenly soft, “I know if it had been anyone from my family… I just wish I’d…” her voice cracked and she looked away.
Before Chris could ask Ashley what was wrong, Liz cut in. “You should have told us. You should have waited for us, but… Ashley’s right. If it had been my father, my mother…” she shook her head and looked at Maria, “It’s nice to meet you too, Maria. My name is Liz, and this is Ashley. Thank you for bringing us here, and thank you for helping our friends.”
“You’re welcome, my dear,” his grandmother smiled, “I’m just glad we could return the favour. Thanks to the chaos you inspired, most of us apparently made it clear. The soldiers you didn’t… disable were too busy looking for you to pay attention to the Mad Women.”
“What were you doing there?” Chris asked suddenly. He shivered as he remembered the soldiers marching towards her. “You could have been killed.”
A smile touched his grandmother’s lips. “I could have,” her eyes travelled around the table, “But I did it for you, Chris. I did it for all the people who have disappeared, the children who have vanished. I’m old, I’ve lived my life. I don’t mind giving it away, if it makes a difference.”
“But…” Chris croaked, his eyes beginning to water again.
He looked up as Liz placed her hand on his shoulder. Her blue eyes were wide, glistening with unspilt tears. She nodded to his grandmother, and looking across, Chris saw the sorrow in the tightness of her face.
“I’ve outlived my daughter, Chris,” she shook her head, but there was steel in her eyes as she continued, “I do not intend to outlive my grandson as well. So when I heard about the Mad Women, and realised I might be able to make a difference, I knew I had to stand with them.”
Chris closed his eyes, his heart twisting. “But I never asked you to, nana,” he shook his head, “I was trying to protect you, by staying away. I didn’t know what had happened to you, but I thought you’d be safe if I didn’t go near you.”
“Chris, it’s not your job to look after me,” she laughed, “Your grandfather gave his life so you could grow up in a world that was safe. I am only continuing his fight.”
“Wrong,” Chris looked up as a voice came from the doorway. Jasmine stood there, arms crossed, her lips twisted in a scowl. To his relief, her eyes had returned to their usual brown, although her fury seemed undiminished. “This is our fight now – even more than yours. You’re right, you’ve lived your life. And while you were busy living it, you allowed this to happen. Where were you when they started taking away our rights? When people started disappearing? Where were you while the Chead ravaged the countryside?”
Maria did not blink in the face of Jasmine’s rage. “I was sleeping,” she said softly, “Resting on my laurels. I thought the battle was won when the war ended. You’re right – I let this happen.”
Jasmine hesitated, clearl
y caught off-guard by Maria’s confession. Beside Chris, Liz nodded to an empty chair, and after a moment’s pause, Jasmine moved across the room and sat down. She shared a long look with Liz, and then gave a quick nod. Liz smiled back.
Nodding, Maria went on. “But I’m fighting now – and not just protesting with the Mad Women,” she looked around the table, and Chris noticed her eyes lingering on their wings, “There is a movement beginning. It’s still young, but the Mad Women are only the rallying point. We’re the only ones who are safe to openly defy the government.”
“Until today,” Ashley whispered.
Maria nodded. “Until today,” she gave a sad smile, “But we always knew the risks. We knew the day would come, and we knew there might be losses. Thanks to you, most of us escaped. Now, we have to wait and see how the public reacts.”
Chris glanced at the others. His grandmother was right – the Director would have a hard time spinning the attack in the square. The public weren’t likely to take kindly to the use of force against old women. But then, the government had managed to spin their escape from the courthouse as a terrorist attack. Who knew what they would do now?
“What is this place?” Jasmine asked, “And what exactly is this ‘movement’ of yours doing?”
“This is a safe house for people the government are hunting,” Maria replied, “There are a few in the city now. You should be safe here, so long as we weren’t followed. Mike’s making sure of that right now – he should be back soon.”
“Mike?” Chris asked.
“Our driver,” Maria replied, “As for what we’re doing… For now, mostly we’ve been gathering information. There are several foreign nations concerned about what our government has been up too. So far they have been afraid to act, but the tide is turning. The President is losing control of his citizens. Much of the countryside is close to open rebellion, and some of the cities aren’t far from following. The growing poverty, the Chead, the military crackdowns, the curfews, they’re all taking a toll. The people are losing faith in the government.”
“In other words, nothing,” Jasmine muttered, but Chris waved a hand to quiet her.
“It’s a start,” he said softly.
“Yes,” Maria replied, “But we need more. We need something to light the match, to start a fire in people’s hearts. What just happened in the square, it is only the beginning. If we wait too long, the government will crush us all like flies.”
“Sure hope not,” Chris started as someone spoke behind them. Leaping to his feet, he spun to face the unfamiliar voice.
A figure stood in the doorway watching them from beneath a broad-rimmed hat. He wore tight fitting jeans and a buttoned shirt with long sleeves. His boots thudded on the wooden floor as he strode across the room and took a seat at the table. A grin stretched across his bronzed face as he looked around at them.
“Y’all make yourselves comfortable?”
15
Liz stood staring down at the newcomer. He had taken the seat beside Maria, and now sat looking up at them from beneath the brim of his hat. Her wings had snapped open as she stood, but his grin did not falter at the sight of them. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, and rested his boots on the table.
“No one followed us?” Maria asked when no one spoke.
Sucking in a breath, Liz struggled to calm her racing heart. There was no mistaking the man’s accent, the southern twang of a Texan. And while she knew the truth behind the Chead now, Liz had spent most of her life blaming the Lone Star State for the plague that had ravaged the countryside. Her hatred had only grown with the loss of her mother, and now it was all she could do to keep herself from tearing the Texan apart.
“Nope, we’re in the clear,” the man laughed, “Y’all caused quite the scene.”
“Liz, are you okay?” Chris asked beside her.
Liz flashed him a glance. His brow was creased and he was staring up at her in confusion. Slowly she nodded, and taking a deep breath, lowered herself back into the chair. She glanced at Jasmine, and saw the same shock reflected in her eyes.
“This is Mike. He came to me a few months ago, not long after I joined the Mad Women. This is his safe house,” Maria was speaking again, though Liz struggled to take in her words. She sat staring at the Texan, still trying to sort through the emotions warring within her.
“And now its y’alls,” Mike laughed. His eyes swept over them, and then back to Liz. “Something the matter, miss?”
It took several seconds for Liz to realise he was addressing her. “No... no.” She shook her head, “It’s just… you’re from Texas?”
The Texan gently took his feet from the table and leaned towards her. “Is that a problem?”
Liz sucked in another breath, still trying to regain her composure. She forced a smile. “A few days ago, I’d have torn you limb from limb for that.”
The man’s smile didn’t falter. “And now?”
To her surprise, Liz laughed. “Now I know better. I’ll give you a few hours to prove yourself.”
“How very generous of you,” Mike tipped his hat, “Might I ask what inspired such a change of heart?”
“That’s a long story…” Liz answered, “The short of it is, I know you weren’t behind the Chead.”
“Ah…” the Texan leaned forward in his chair again, “Now you’ve got my attention! That little piece of misinformation has been a thorn in our side for years.”
“I can imagine,” Liz raised an eyebrow, “If you spoke with that accent where I come from, you’d have more than me to deal with.”
“Yes, I generally pretend I’m from a little further south,” Mike replied in a Mexican accent, “It tends to draw less unwanted attention.”
“But what are you doing here?” Chris asked.
The Texan turned to stare at him. “Perhaps you’d like to fill me in a little more about yourselves,” he smiled, “After all, the last I checked the only humans with wings belonged to the government.”
Beside her, Jasmine growled, and Liz quickly reached out and placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder. Jasmine turned to look at her, her lips drawn back in a scowl, but Liz stared her down. For half a second, Liz thought she glimpsed specks of grey in the girl’s eyes. She gave Jasmine’s shoulder a squeeze; part reassurance, part threat.
Jasmine’s eyebrows lifted and her chest swelled as she took a deep breath. A shudder went through her and she closed her eyes. When they opened again, Liz saw the fear there.
“It’s okay,” she said softly, aware the others at the table were staring, “You’ll be okay.”
She waited until Jasmine nodded, and then turned back to the others. “You wanted answers, Mike?” she bit her lip, “Well, the short of it is, we’re not too far removed from the Chead ourselves.”
For the first time, the smile slipped from Mike’s face. “What?”
Liz glanced at Chris, wondering how much she should say, before continuing. “The government created us, but we’re only the latest variation of an old experiment. They’ve been playing with their little project for decades, tinkering away, trying to create the perfect human.”
“Or the perfect soldier,” Ashley whispered from the other side of the table.
Nodding, Liz glanced at Maria. “They call it the Praegressus Project. It’s where they’ve been taking all your missing children. And I’m afraid most weren’t as lucky as us.”
“What does this have to do with the Chead?” Mike pressed.
Looking back at him, Liz slowly shook her head. “You still don’t see? The Chead were the first ones, the first children to survive the government’s cruel experiment.”
Silence fell across the table as she told them about Artemis, the ancient Chead they had discovered in the corridors beneath the courthouse. How he had been taken prisoner as a child during the American War. How he had watched hundreds of prisoners die screaming as their scientists sought a weapon to use against the United States. And how he had survived, becoming the first of
the creatures that had gone on to plague the Western Allied States.
“So it’s true,” the Texan whispered as she finished, “We always suspected… but there was never proof.”
“Unfortunately, we still don’t have any,” Chris replied bitterly, “Artemis died in the courthouse, a victim of their so-called ‘terrorist attack’.”
Liz frowned as a thought occurred to her. “Maybe not?” her cheeks flushed as everyone in the room turned to stare at her. Shaking her head, she went on. “I don’t know much about what they did to us, but surely there’s a link between our DNA and the Chead?”
Mike sighed. “No doubt, but all genetic information about the Chead is classified. Scientists who aren’t on the government’s payroll can only speculate about the Chead’s genetic makeup. They definitely don’t have any samples to compare with yours.”
“No, but what if we had a sample of our own?” Liz smiled as the others continued to stare at her, uncomprehending. “Have you already forgotten what Halt said in the courthouse? Mira used to be Chead.”
Silence met her announcement. Across the table, Mike slowly sat back in his chair. His eyes glanced in the direction of the infirmary. “What do you mean, ‘used to be’?”
Liz chuckled at the tension in his voice. “She’s not anymore. Or at least, not in the classic sense. She was infected with the same strain of virus as us. It seems to have masked the more aggressive traits of the Chead,” she glanced at Jasmine, “At least, most of the time.”
“We’d still need a geneticist to look at the samples,” Ashley mused. She’d been quiet through most of the conversation, but now she looked around the table. “There’s a professor at the University of San Francisco who specialises in Genetic Engineering. I’m not sure how receptive he’d be if a bunch of fugitives showed up on his doorstep, though.”
“How do you know which professors work at the university?” Chris asked.
“I studied there for a few months, before…” Ashley trailed off.
