by Aaron Hodges
“So, you’re the doctor?” she hissed.
The man swallowed visibly, and nodded.
“How many children have you killed?” Liz growled. Her hands shot out and caught him by the shoulders, shoving him. He yelped as his chair tilted backwards, but she held him still. He hadn’t answered, and with a snarl that rumbled up from the depths of her soul, Liz lifted him into the air.
“How. Many?” she shrieked.
The color drained from the doctor’s face. “I…I…” He closed his eyes. “I don’t know. Too many to count.”
Liz released him so suddenly he crumpled to the floor beside his fallen chair. Clenching her fists, she struggled to control herself. Flames burned her stomach and she fought the urge to tear the man limb from limb. Obviously, the Madwomen wanted him for something, though she couldn’t think what.
“Why is he here?” she grated.
“I…I…I want to help,” the doctor stammered from the floor.
“Did I ask you?” Liz snapped, glaring at him. He promptly shut his mouth.
“He has information we need,” Maria said, drawing Liz’s eyes back to the table.
Liz stared at Chris’s grandmother for a long moment. Her words came out in a shriek, “You can’t trust anything these people tell you!” Taking a breath to calm herself, she cast a disgusted glance at the trembling doctor. “They’re scum. We should kill him now, before he betrays us.”
The doctor whimpered and scrambled away. Grabbing the chair, he jumped to his feet and thrust it in front of him like a shield.
Liz sneered. “You really think that will stop me?”
“Liz…” Jasmine’s voice came from behind her. She crossed the room, until she stood between the doctor and Liz. “Hear him out.”
“You’re protecting him?” Liz asked softly.
Jasmine didn’t back down. “If that’s what it takes to get the Director.”
Liz paused at that. “The Director?”
Nodding, Jasmine turned to the doctor. “Speak, now. Do it quickly, before I change my mind.” Despite her interference, there was no mistaking Jasmine’s hostility.
Still shaking, the doctor lowered himself back into the chair. He closed his eyes, as though summoning the courage to face them, before looking at Liz.
“My name is Edwin Reid,” he began, “until a few months ago, I was working in a top-secret laboratory near Seattle.”
“How many of these foul places are there?” Liz spat.
The doctor shook his head. “I have no idea. For a long time, I thought we were the only one. I guess they keep it all separated–”
“Just get on with it.” Jasmine said, advancing a step.
The doctor yelped and almost fell off his chair. Liz waited impatiently for him to right himself, her foot tapping against the porcelain tiles.
Finally, Edwin took a long breath and went on: “Like I was saying, a few months back, the Seattle operation was closed down…”
“What a shame for my hometown economy.” Liz spun as a new voice came from the entranceway. Sam stepped into the room, Mira shadowing him. A broad grin split his face. “Someone start the party without me?”
“You kids really can’t keep a secret, can you?” Maria said wearily, scowling in Mira’s direction.
Smiling, the girl wandered across the room, past the doctor and Harry, to Maria. Pulling up a chair beside Chris’s grandmother, she took a seat, placed her arms on the table, and leaned her chin on her arms. At just four feet in height, her head barely reached the tabletop.
Maria stared at her for a second, then shook her head and laughed. Leaning back in her chair, she waved a hand at Sam. “Come in, Sam. Sit down. The good doctor here was just about to tell us why he’s come.”
“Doctor, ay?” Sam said as he took the last seat at the table. He looked at Liz—where she still stood with Jasmine—then at the doctor. “You’re either really desperate or really stupid, buddy. You know how many of your colleagues we’ve killed?”
The doctor frowned at Sam. “You…you’re the one from the–”
“Don’t say it.” Groaning, Sam threw his arms in the air. “I thought it was meant to be thirty seconds of fame. How long is that damn joke of a press conference going to haunt me?”
Doctor Reid coughed. “I was actually going to say the radio. There’s a receiver in the staff quarters at the new facility I was transferred too. You’re quite popular.”
Liz raised an eyebrow as Sam burst into laughter. “You’re kidding me?” he managed finally, wiping tears from his eyes.
The doctor’s gaze switched to Sam’s wings and then back to his face. “Most of us thought you were a nutcase. Guess we were wrong.”
Sam stilled. “Wrong about a lot of things.” He turned to Harry. “How did he get here?”
Until then, Harry had watched the exchange in silence, his dark eyes giving away nothing. Now, he leaned forward in his chair, his hands clenched in front of him as he studied the doctor.
“He contacted the Madwomen in Independence Square yesterday afternoon. Said he could give us the Director of Domestic Affairs if we helped him. We spent the night transferring him from location to location, making sure he wasn’t being followed or monitored. He still hasn’t told us exactly how he can lead us to the woman, though.”
Edwin cleared his throat. “Yes, well, the interruptions...”
Tired of his excuses, Liz snarled and started towards him. Still standing between them, Jasmine held out an arm, barring Liz’s path. Their eyes met. For a moment Liz contemplated batting her aside, but decided it wasn’t worth it.
“Get on with it.”
“I’m trying!” the doctor said. “Where was I? Yes, the Seattle facility. I was recruited there after university, worked my way up through the ranks before they transferred me to the Evolution Gene project. My predecessor had failed to reduce the psychological stress caused by the virus’s integration with its host’s DNA. Sadly, I wasn’t any more successful. It wasn’t much of a surprise when they shut us down.”
“Out of a perverted curiosity, what do you mean by psychological stress?” Sam asked, his voice dangerous.
The doctor let out a long sigh. “It means the subjects who survived the physiological alterations…suffered the same fate as the Chead. They were driven mad by the strain on their nervous system, succumbing to fits of rages that–”
“They became Chead,” Jasmine cut in. “Tell me, Doctor, I’m curious too. What exactly brought you here? When were you finally convinced the government had crossed a line?” She snorted. “Obviously not murdering kids.”
“It’s amazing, the things you’ll do, when your back is against the wall.” He looked around, though his eyes didn’t seem to register them. “So many came and went, all their faces have blurred into one. It was easy to justify, when it came down to it. Why not? It was their parents who had sentenced them to death, not me. There was nothing I could do to save them—only offer a purpose to their passing.”
“They died in agony!” Jasmine said, choking on the words.
“They died for a cure,” the doctor shot back, then bowed his head. “At least, at first. That’s how we all started. I learned that later, when I arrived at my new laboratory a few weeks ago. They’ve brought doctors there from all over the country. Each of us began our careers studying the Chead virus in search of a cure, but after years of research, sooner or later we all realized it’s impossible. That’s when they would switch us to their so-called Evolution Gene, their plan to ‘fight back’.”
“You seem bitter, Doctor Reid,” Harry spoke before anyone could respond. His cool blue eyes watched the doctor with detached curiosity. “I take it you no longer buy the company line, as they say?”
The doctor’s eyes returned to Jasmine. “You asked me what my line was? When it all became too much? It was the day I arrived at the new facility, right here in San Francisco, and realized we were no longer working on the ‘children of traitors.’ It was the day I fi
rst walked along those underground corridors and realized who my new candidates were. It was the day the government started conscripting young men and women to use as their guinea pigs.”
“Some line,” Sam muttered as Liz’s heart sank.
She closed her eyes, despair for her fellow countrymen welling in her chest. Her suspicions were true: the government was using the draft as an excuse to find fresh candidates for their experiment. Chris had died to stop exactly this—the continued abduction and slaughter of the nation’s youth.
Quick as thought, she side-stepped Jasmine and leapt at the doctor. He yelped and tried to escape, but she had him before he could leave his chair. Shoving him back down, she towered over him.
“So, where are they?” she snapped. “These children who so damaged your pathetic conscience?”
The doctor swallowed. “I’ll tell you, gladly,” he paused, eyes traveling around the room, directed anywhere but at Liz, “but first…I need your help.”
Liz’s hand flashed out and caught him by the throat. Jasmine stepped towards her, but froze when Liz fixed her with a glare. Returning her attention to the doctor, she leaned in close. “Where?”
“I…please…” the doctor choked, and she momentarily loosened her grip. “Please, you can do whatever you want with me. But you have to help my family!”
Liz paused. “Your family?”
The doctor nodded desperately. “Yes! My wife and sons. I’m not supposed to be here—not even supposed to leave the facility. They’ll know I’m missing by now. Please, I’ve already been gone a day. I don’t know how long before they…” He shook his head. “Just…protect my family, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
Liz studied the man. It had to be a setup, a trap to lure them out of hiding. He seemed sincere, but she knew better than to trust appearances. They had been betrayed far too many times for that. She knew one way of getting the truth from him. Tugging off her gloves, she tossed them aside and reached for him again.
“Liz, stop!” Jasmine caught her around the waist and hauled her back.
Hissing, Liz spun, extending her wings to thrust the other girl back. Jasmine staggered away before straightening. “Don’t do this, Liz.”
Liz scowled. “You of all people should know he can’t be trusted!”
“Maybe, but this isn’t the way. Chris wouldn’t want this,” Jasmine countered.
“Chris is dead,” Liz said flatly. “I don’t think he cares–”
“Enough!” Maria’s voice cut through their argument.
Liz turned, and quickly looked away again, shocked at the rage on Maria’s face. Her hands dropped to her sides as she clenched her fists.
“Harry,” Maria went on, her voice calm now, “choose some men to observe the family, see if there’s anything suspicious. If nothing is amiss, we’ll grab them tonight. So long as you’ve told us the truth, doctor, your family should be safe within twelve hours.”
Her eyes swept the room, daring any of them to object, before returning to the doctor. “But if you’re lying, I’ll drive the knife through your heart myself.”
5
Sam groaned as he leaned against the wall of the treehouse. Rays of sunlight bathed his face, streaming down through the cracks in the poorly-constructed roof. His eyelids drooped, the pull of sleep irresistible. With only the cover of night offering them a chance to stretch their wings, they had all taken on a nocturnal lifestyle, and it was now well past his bedtime. Still, he was glad Mira had dragged him to the meeting. Too often, the Madwomen and their handful of allies made decisions while Sam and the others slept.
Despite his exhaustion, he found sleep would not come. His mind kept returning to Maria’s rescue plan, going over the details, over everything that might go wrong. According to the doctor, his wife and two sons lived in a condo in Sea Cliff, one of the most expensive suburbs in the city. Apparently working for the government came with a few perks.
Unfortunately, it made surveillance difficult, and the prospect of removing them without being spotted became all but impossible. Thinking of the task ahead, he found himself wondering whether Liz had been right after all. The cold, logical solution to their problem was to force the doctor to tell them what he knew.
That was what the Director would do.
Sam pushed the thought from his mind. Whatever happened, they had to be better than their enemy. If they allowed themselves to sink to the government’s level—to be corrupted by the very forces they fought—what was the point? Ultimately, they would only succeed in replacing one evil with another.
Maybe that was why he’d volunteered to go with the team to bring back the family. He needed to remind himself they were fighting for more than just themselves, that there was more at stake than their own pitiful lives. After all, wasn’t that what the students at the university had sacrificed themselves for? Wasn’t that what Ashley and Chris had died believing?
However, there was a more compelling reason to take Liz’s option. The government was continuing its crackdown against dissenters, and just last night another safe house had been burnt to the ground. Its owner, a kindly woman who’d recently joined the cause, and everyone else inside had been killed. The news this morning had shown their bodies as they were carried out one by one, labeling each an enemy of the WAS.
The traitor Jonathan had been there, explaining how joyful he was at the government’s progress against the rebels, and Sam had switched the television off in disgust. Jonathan was all over the news now, adding weight to the Director’s crusade against the rebels, reminding everyone just what they stood to lose.
But it hadn’t been Sam and the others who’d killed Jonathan’s family. Doctor Halt had murdered his wife and daughter to ensure their silence. Now the man stood beside Halt’s successor, spouting her accolades like a pet chimp.
Hearing the thump of wings, Sam sighed and sat up, surrendering all pretense of sleep. Wind swirled as Mira landed on the wooden deck, followed a second later by Jasmine. Mira wandered across the half-finished treehouse and settled herself beside him. Her soft grey wings stretched out, warming in the sun.
Sam grinned. It had taken two bedridden weeks for them both to fully recover from being shot. Now that they were fighting fit, there was no fighting to attend too. Well, not unless they wanted to spend their nights ambushing soldiers with Liz.
Sighing, he turned to Jasmine, aware of the uneasy tension that still lay between them. She wandered across the wooden boards and leaned her arms against the makeshift windowsill. Her wings hung limp behind her, emerald-green feathers trailing along the ground.
Watching her, Sam struggled to recall the girl he’d first met back in the facility. She had been easygoing then, lighthearted despite the cruelty of their imprisonment. But that was before they’d been forced to choose their own lives over those of their friends. Jasmine and Chelsea had gone into a room together, but only Jasmine had walked out.
Except the girl he’d known had never really come back.
Jasmine looked at him now, eyes hard, as though reading his thoughts. Sam only smiled back. Whatever bitterness still lay between them, he was done with it. They needed each other, now more than ever. Richard and Chris and Ashley were all gone, and Liz was falling into a pit she might never climb out of.
Pushing himself to his feet, he joined her at the window. A sharp pain came from his palm as he placed his hands on the raw wood. Cursing, held up his hand and saw the splinter. The flesh was already starting to swell around it.
“That looks nasty,” Jasmine murmured.
Sam shook his head. “Think I should sue?”
Smiling, Jasmine took his hand. Sam said nothing as she inspected the damage. Before he had a chance to object, she pinched his palm with her long nails. Sam swore and jerked his hand away.
Jasmine arched an eyebrow. “Really? You took a bullet just a few weeks ago…”
Sam gave a sheepish grin and extended his hand again. Jasmine bent to the task again,
her brows knitted together in concentration.
“Mira seems to have taken a liking to you,” Sam offered, distracting himself from the pain in his palm.
“Yes, well, with Liz going all psycho-soldier and you busy with your gadgets, I seem to be the only one with the time.” She paused, looking up from beneath a fringe of black hair. “Although she seems quite fond of you as well.”
Sam shrugged. “I’m a likeable kinda guy.” He glanced at Mira. Her breathing had already softened and she appeared to be asleep. “She’s a curious creature, actually seems to love the radio. But I’m still getting used to her.”
As he spoke, Jasmine gave an exclamation of triumph and held up a finger. At its tip was a tiny black splinter of wood.
“Thanks, doctor,” Sam chuckled. “Think I’ll live?”
Jasmine waved a hand. Leaving the window, she wandered across the treehouse, the boards creaking beneath her feet, her black hair dangling down around her shoulders. She leaned against the wall where Mira was sleeping and sat beside her. Running a hand through the girl’s grey hair, she looked up at Sam.
“She’s a little odd, I’ll admit. But she’s family,” she said.
“What does that make us?” Sam joined her in the sun, leaning his head against the wall. “Her mom and dad?”
Jasmine snorted. “At this rate, we might be the only sane ones left.”
“Wasn’t so long ago you were the one going mad,” Sam replied carefully.
A strained silence followed his comment. Biting her lip, Jasmine shook her head and looked across at him.
“Yes,” she said, then took a deep breath and continued in a strained voice, “and in Independence Square, I almost killed those people, almost lost control of who I was. If Liz hadn’t stopped me…”
“Hey, that’s what family’s for, right?” He gave her shoulder a squeeze.
She nodded, looking miserable. Sam could sense there was more.
“I’m worried Liz is going down the same path,” she said, eyes to the floor. “She’s already changed once, when the soldiers tried to…take her. Now she’s on a one-woman crusade, and I don’t think she sees the line anymore. She’s becoming like that doctor—willing to do whatever it takes to get what she wants.”
