The Way the World Ends (The Evolution Gene Book 3)

by Aaron Hodges

  She started from cover when a sharp crack came from overhead. Susan ducked as a shadow rushed at her. The rustle of feathers followed as the winged creature turned and came at her again. Rage built in Susan’s chest. Teeth bared, she leapt to meet it.

  A fist swung at her face, but she deflected the blow and caught the creature by the wrist, then hurled it into the ground. A male voice cried out. She leapt on his chest, eager to punish the boy who had stolen her prize.

  A dark face stared back at her. It was not the boy who had fled with Talisa’s daughter. He gave a choked cry and tried to push her off. She brushed off his blows and leaned in.

  “Where is Elizabeth?” Susan growled.

  The boy’s mouth opened and closed. “Wh…what?”

  Susan broke off her questioning as a scream came from nearby. She watched another winged shadow drop from the sky and land on one of her people, snapping the Chead’s neck before it had a chance to react. More winged figures appeared as the creature leapt back into the air, darting down at the Chead as they dove for cover.

  A hiss exited Susan’s lips. The boy’s eyes widened as she lifted her fist. He tried to raise his arms to defend himself, but she tore out his throat all the same. Leaving him choking in his own blood, Susan rose and rejoined Hecate.

  “How many are there?” she asked.

  The Chead had melted into the darkness, but wings still fluttered overhead, circling. Hecate shook his head. Scanning the sky, Susan tried to count the flitting shadows, but it was impossible to keep track. There might be a dozen, or half a hundred. But she was sure the Chead still outnumbered them.

  With whispered instructions, she ordered her people to spread out and gather the humans’ weapons. The Chead might not have wings, but they could adapt. The winged abominations would fall soon enough. She just hoped Talisa’s daughter was not among them. Her life belonged to Susan.

  Finally, she turned back to Hecate. The Chead would keep the winged creatures at bay, but she and her mate had another task. Another alarm sounded in the distance as she took his hand.

  “Let’s end this,” she breathed.

  60

  The door on the rooftop gave way on Sam’s second kick. He stumbled inside, dragging Ashley with him, then slammed the remnants of the door back into place behind them. From outside came the bloodcurdling howls of the Chead as they tore the soldiers to pieces.

  After the first guard tower had fallen, they’d hovered in place long enough to count the creatures swarming over the fence. The darkness made the task difficult, and Sam had given up at eighty. The creatures had swept away a squadron of guards like ants before a flood. That was all the motivation Sam and Ashley had needed to get out of their way, and turning, they raced for the tower. Whatever the Chead were here for, Sam and Ashley wanted nothing to do with it.

  Fortunately, the door on the tower’s rooftop had offered little resistance. Now, as they moved deeper into the stairwell, Sam wondered what fresh horrors awaited. Outside, the Chead were tearing men to pieces, but somewhere in this building, the President lurked—or so they hoped. The man had commanded the devotion of both Doctor Halt and the Director. Who knew what fresh depravities they might find here?

  Red flashes of emergency lights lit their way as they moved down the concrete stairwell. Within minutes, they found a fire door barring their way. They paused behind it and shared a glance. Sam caught the golden light in Ashley’s eyes and smiled. So close to their objective, the sight gave him strength, gave him hope they might just both get out of this alive. With her eyes aglow, Ashley had done incredible, impossible things.

  Grabbing her, he pulled her into a kiss. He shivered as her lips pressed against his, all fire and passion, and for just a second he forgot where they were. His arms wrapped around her, a moan echoing up from his throat as she responded, her body melting into his, trembling beneath his hands.

  Then she was pulling away, turning towards the door, kicking it from its hinges, and they were charging together into the room beyond.

  Sam blinked and stumbled to a stop, his eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden brightness of the fluorescent lights. Squinting, he struggled to comprehend the vast, elaborately decorated apartment they’d found themselves in. Soft red carpet covered the floor, spiraling out from the stone wall from which they’d emerged. Other than where they stood in its center, the apartment had no walls, only windows looking out over the dark expanse of the airbase. The room took up the entire floor of the tower, with the circular wall behind them holding the elevators, stairwell and bathrooms.

  A smattering of furniture dotted the space, almost like an afterthought, except where the massive mahogany desk sat on the far side of the room. Its sleek wood gleamed in the overhead lights, dominating the room. A large man stood behind the desk, his shoulders square and arms clasped firmly in front of him. At their appearance, a look of pure panic had swept across his features—but an instant later it was gone, replaced by a smooth, contemplating smile.

  Sam swallowed, unable to tear his eyes from the President. He was almost as shocked to see the man as he obviously was to see them. Flicking his eyes around the room, Sam checked for guards, but the President appeared to be alone. A smile tugged at Sam’s lips as he gathered himself. They’d expected to spend half the night rummaging around dark rooms searching for the man, but it seemed they’d finally had a lucky break.

  “Ashley, Samuel, you’ve come at a rather inconvenient time.” Despite the smile, there was a slight quiver to the President’s voice.

  “I bet,” Ashley hissed, starting towards him.

  Sam caught the flicker of movement a second before the creature leapt from a nearby sofa. He lifted his fists to defend himself, but Ashley was faster still. She spun on her heel, a boot lashing out to strike their assailant in the chest. The blow caught the girl mid-leap and sent her tumbling across the room.

  The girl scrambled to her feet. Silky auburn hair dangled across her face as hazel eyes locked on Sam and Ashley. Her face contorted into a snarl as she faced them.

  And spread her wings.

  Sam gaped as the golden feathers appeared, stretching until they seemed to fill the whole apartment. Teeth bared, the girl started towards them again. She moved with confidence, suggesting she was already well-adjusted to the weight of her wings. The President had obviously been busy with a few experiments of his own.

  Ashley moved to meet the girl.

  “Pascaline, that’s enough,” said the President, bringing both girls up short.

  Sam shivered as he glanced at the President. The man had taken his seat and was now leaning back in his chair, watching them. For a man they supposedly had cornered, he looked awfully calm.

  “I can take care of them, sir.” The girl’s voice rang with anger. “Then I’ll find whichever of your guards let them inside.”

  “I think the Chead have already found them, my dear Pascaline,” the President laughed before turning on Ashley. “And I’m not altogether sure you could take Ashley here—at least, not while she’s worked up like this.”

  Ashley stepped towards the President. Alarm tingled in Sam’s stomach. He quickly moved after her and caught her by the wrist. Something wasn’t right.

  “Smart boy, Samuel,” the President murmured.

  The President’s words lit a fire in Sam’s chest. Memories of his own time in captivity rose, the beatings, the terror of seeing Ashley chained to her hospital bed, the helplessness, the agony. Ignoring his own warning, he started forward. This time the girl, Pascaline, made no move to stop him, but the President leaned forward and placed his hand over something on his desk.

  “San Francisco. Houston. Vancouver. Los Angeles,” He boomed, his voice echoing from the windows. Outside, red lights still flashed across the base. “Mexico City. London. Buenos Aires. Tokyo.”

  Sam slowed. Closer to the mahogany desk now, he could see a steel panel beneath the President’s hand. Between his fingers was a silver key.

  “Wh
at are you saying?” Ashley demanded, joining Sam. Pascaline retreated to the President’s side and sat on the mahogany desk. It was so big she could spread her wings, and they still wouldn’t touch the President.

  “You hold a billion lives in your hands, my girl,” the President replied coldly.

  Ice trickled through Sam’s veins. “That’s not possible, there are safeguards—”

  “You think I’d leave anything to chance?” The President broke off into laughter. “This is the only safeguard. This key here—and the one my dear, faithful Pascaline now holds. Two keys, two turns, and the world burns.”

  Sam threw a glance at the winged girl. Beside her on the desk, another panel reflected the glow of the overhead lights. Pascaline took a key from her pocket and inserted it into place, then offered them a wicked grin.

  His heart sank as he realized the President’s bluff. They’d had half a chance—just a moment where they might have reached him before the girl could use her key. That door of opportunity had just slammed closed in their faces. The man could still be lying, but judging by the dark glint in his eyes, Sam didn’t think so.

  Sam tried to reason with the madman. “You wouldn’t kill all those people, your people…”

  “The people who threw me away like yesterday’s trash?” the President sneered. “Let them burn.”

  “Please, Pascaline…that’s your name, right?” Beside him, Ashley turned to face the golden-feathered girl. She took a tentative step closer, but a warning growl from the girl brought her up short. “Please, Pascaline, you don’t have to do this. Just take the key and walk away.”

  At Ashley’s words, Sam realized with a start the girl wasn’t wearing a collar. Hope surged in his chest as he added his voice to Ashley’s. “He hasn’t got anything over you, Pascaline. We can help you, protect you from him. All you have to do is walk away.”

  Pascaline looked from Ashley to Sam, then back again. A smile spread across her tanned face. Throwing back her head, she howled with laughter. “You can help me?” she gasped finally. “How, exactly, could a couple of failed experiments like you possibly help me?”

  Feathers bristling, Ashley spread her wings. “Do we look like failures to you?”

  The girl raised an eyebrow. “You look broken,” she said, levering herself off the desk. “Like a thin breeze would push you over. You wouldn’t even stand a chance against the Chead! Good thing you’re not out there, with my brothers and sisters, or they’d tear you to pieces.”

  Sam risked a glance out the window. Darkness still hung over the base, lit only by the whirling red of the alarm and distant flashes of gunfire. Shadows rushed between the ground and sky. Squinting, Sam took a step closer to the window and shivered as the silent battle drew to a close. Chead rushed across the ground, wielding rifles taken from the fallen guards, while overhead, winged warriors darted at them.

  Swallowing, he turned back to the President. “How many more of us did you create?” he whispered. “How many more did you kill?” Fists clenched, he would have leapt at the man if not for Ashley’s sudden hand on his shoulder.

  Behind his desk, the President waved a hand. “As you can see, my methods inspire a great deal more loyalty than those employed by my Director or the good Doctor Halt. I always did find honey more effective than the stick.” He rose from his chair. “Of course, the stick is necessary at times, with uncooperative subjects such as yourselves.”

  Sam’s heart beat frantically against his ribcage as the President walked out from behind his desk. Gathering himself, he waited for his chance. Only a dozen feet separated him from the President—he could cross that distance in a second. But the President and Pascaline were still close enough to turn their keys.

  The President came to a stop in front of his desk. A baseball sat on a stand there, an autograph scribbled down its length in black marker pen. He picked it up. “The question is, who goes first?” Holding the bat aloft, he took a practice swing. Then he stepped away from the desk.

  In that moment Sam sensed the trap, but it was already too late. Ashley’s wings snapped open and she leapt before Sam could stop her. Wind swirled around the room as Ashley propelled herself forward. She only made it half a dozen feet before her wings folded, sending her crashing down into the floor.

  Cursing, Sam started after her, but his vision swam with the movement. He staggered sideways, clenching his eyes closed and opening them again, but it did nothing to halt the swirling lights. His feet turned to lead as he took another step, then his legs collapsed beneath him. His head jarred as he struck the ground. Gasping, he found himself on his side, watching as the President wandered across to the fallen Ashley.

  “What have you done…to us?” he managed to croak, his words slurring.

  “Sarin gas,” the President laughed as he stopped beside Ashley’s prone body and tapped a finger to his watch. Somewhere in the room, something went beep. “There, the gas release is closed again. Pascaline and I have been inoculated, but even that won’t last forever! Now, where was I? Ah yes, the gas. It’s been specially altered to induce paralysis, without causing any other nasty side-effects. I had my office rigged weeks ago, in case of unexpected visitors. All I had to do was keep you busy until it took effect.”

  He nudged Ashley with his boot. A rasping noise came from her throat as she toppled onto her back, but she made no move to resist.

  “You…bastard,” Sam managed.

  Smiling, the President hefted his bat. “It takes a few hours to wear off in a normal human. Even with such fine specimens as yourselves, we should at least have a few minutes.” A dark glint shone in his eyes as he looked at Ashley. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

  61

  “Leave her alone,” Sam cried from where he lay.

  Grinding his teeth, he tried to sit up, but his limbs were like lead, his muscles refusing to obey.

  Ignoring him, a smile played across the President’s lips.

  “Not so strong now, are you, bitch?” he shouted.

  At the words, he drew back his boot and slammed it into Ashley’s stomach. Unable to defend herself, Ashley went tumbling across the carpet like a ragdoll, her wings lolling limply around her. She gasped, clutching at her stomach as the President strode after her.

  “Thought you could kill me, did you?”

  His boot caught Ashley again with an audible crunch. Her head whipped back as blood splattered from her nose. Groaning, she managed to roll onto her stomach. Fingers like claws, she tried to drag herself away, but before she could go half a foot, the President’s foot slammed down on her back. The breath exploded from between Ashley’s teeth as she collapsed.

  Laughter slithered through the room as Pascaline joined the President. “They’re more pathetic than you led me to believe,” she said, shaking her head.

  The President smirked, then grabbed Ashley by the foot and dragged her across the room towards Sam. Watching them come, Sam managed to pull himself to his hands and knees. Panting with the effort, he looked at the President with what he hoped was disdain.

  “You really are…pathetic,” he managed, still slurring. “Harry…and the rest…will finish you in the end.”

  “Harry?” The President tossed Ashley down beside Sam. “You can’t mean Lieutenant Harry McCrae, surely?”

  Sam blinked, unsure whether to admit the truth or not, but the President had already seen it on his face. Throwing back his head, he howled with laughter.

  “Oh, my dear Samuel, obviously you haven’t seen the news. Here, allow me to crush your last pathetic remnants of hope.” Returning to his desk, he picked up a remote and pointed it at one of the windows. The world beyond the glass vanished, replaced by the flickering image of a woman in a news chair. The picture distorted as the video rewound, then a woman’s voice erupted into the room.

  “Clashes between rural and urban populations continued to mount today. Rioting has now spread to LA, San Diego and Seattle. Tensions reignited several days ago when it was revealed th
at the fugitive Christopher Sanders had escaped custody with the help of the self-styled ‘San Francisco Council’. The leader of the council, one Lieutenant Harry McCrae, was not available to comment. However, soon after learning the news, protesters stationed outside the council’s center of operations stormed the building. It is thought no one inside survived.

  “Meanwhile, General Thompson of Oregon has—”

  The voice was interrupted as the screen flashed, turning back to a window. Sam sat staring out at the night, hardly able to believe what he’d heard. Harry and the others were dead. The protesters had torn them to pieces, and none of Harry’s careful planning or quiet authority had been able to save them. And all because they’d helped Chris…

  “I guess a free press has its uses,” the President mused. Wandering back to Ashley’s prone figure, he crouched, addressing Sam, “Do you finally see the truth now, Samuel?”

  “What are you…talking about?” Sam murmured, struggling to meet the President’s gaze.

  “Are you truly so blind, that you cannot see it?” He gestured at the blank screen. “That is what you’ve all been fighting for, that is what your precious freedom means, Samuel. Chaos! Two hundred million people free to tear each other to pieces, to riot and rise up against their betters. Can you see now why they needed to be manipulated, why they needed an enemy to fear, to unite them?”

  “You slaughtered thousands,” Sam grated.

  “And how many lives has your alternative already claimed, Samuel? How many of your friends have already died in this brave new world of yours? How many helpless mothers and children?” He shook his head. “Do you really think the people are happier now, living in the world your truth has given them?”

  Sam closed his eyes, trying not to listen, to allow the man to manipulate him. The darkness in his mind’s eye swirled and his stomach clenched. Wheezing, he bent in two, struggling not to bring up yesterday’s dinner.