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

by Aaron Hodges

  Instead, her crystal eyes found Chris’s, soft, fearless. A sob tore from him as somewhere deep inside a part of him broke, torn asunder by the impossible choice before him.

  His love.

  Or the world.

  “Time is wasting, Chris,” Hecate whispered.

  Chris looked at Liz one last time, taking in every inch of her, freezing her forever in his mind. The silky curls of her pitch-black hair, the sweet crinkle of skin at the corners of her mouth, the curves of her long neck. Her dark feathers hung behind her, limp and broken. She must have been in terrible pain, standing there with Hecate pressing against her broken bones. But when she looked at him, a smile touched her lips, a silent farewell.

  Closing his eyes, Chris made his choice.

  Epilogue

  Two Years Later

  Chris smiled as the wind caught beneath his wings and lifted him higher. Air rushed past his face, tugging at his long hair and cutting through his jacket. Sucking in a breath, he savored the crisp winter air. In his arms, the baby goat began to squirm, and he tightened his grip around its tiny legs. One thousand feet above the Californian plains, he didn’t think it would survive the fall.

  He’d found the goat wandering alone in a field as he scouted for food. Unable to resist such a golden opportunity, Chris had swooped down and plucked up the kid before it could realize what was happening.

  Ahead, the towering peaks loomed, calling him home. His wings beat down as another gust swept around him, trying to pull him from the sky. He glanced back, checking the progress of the storm. The sky was dark, almost pitch-black, and gathering himself he picked up the pace. He wanted to be home and indoors long before it struck the mountains.

  Feathers cracked alongside him and he smiled as Ashley drifted into view. Her white wings swept down, propelling her into the lead. Chris sighed as her voice called back.

  “Told you a goat was too much.”

  Rolling his eyes, Chris picked up speed. The plains fell away behind them, turning to the rocky slopes of the foothills. Chris shivered as he saw the dark pines rising from the mountainside ahead. In his mind, he watched again their desperate flight through the trees, all those years ago. He recalled the fear in the eyes of Richard and Jasmine as the soldiers encircled them. It all seemed so long ago now.

  Tearing his gaze from the forest, Chris focused on the white peaks stabbing up into the murky sky. Thunder rumbled, echoing from the cliffs. Screaming, the baby goat started to kick again. Cursing his own foolishness, Chris kept on. He wasn’t about to abandon the thing now, not after carrying it all this way.

  Below, the trees gave way to the stark grey stone of the mountains. Here the soil was thin, and only scraggly bushes were able to survive. He winced at the memory of their thorns. Scrambling up the side of the mountain, guards hot on his heels, he’d hardly noticed them at the time. But the things had ached for weeks afterwards.

  Fortunately, the miracle of flight meant he no longer had to worry about such trivialities. He watched as a blanket of snow turned the barren rock to white. Light shone from all around them as they soared deeper into the mountains. Watching the snow, he remembered the day he’d seen Ashley fall, how her blood had stained the snow red.

  But Ashley had survived, had endured torture and torment where so many others had crumbled, and emerged stronger for it. From the very start, she had been their strength, always the first to offer encouragement, the one with the words to keep them going, whatever the odds.

  Yet it wasn’t until that day in the Kirtland Air Force Base, when all had seemed lost, that Ashley had shown her true strength. When all of them had failed, when he and Sam and Liz had succumbed to the Chead’s power, Ashley had stepped up. Even injured and broken, she’d prevailed where no one else could.

  If only I’d had that strength. Chris’s heart twisted. He forced the thought from his mind.

  Chris squinted, trying to make out the way ahead. Even with the darkening sky, the glare off the snow threatened to blind him. Ahead, Ashley’s wings seemed to merge with their surroundings, almost disappearing into the storm. His strength flagging, Chris fixed his gaze on her scarlet hair and chased after her.

  Hours passed as they raced between the jagged peaks, every wingbeat bringing them closer to the facility where they had been reborn, nearer to home. The thought still brought a smile to his face. Once the place had been a prison to them, a ghost that haunted their dreams, hovering over their lives like some invisible force.

  After everything they’d been through in New Mexico, they’d needed a sanctuary, a place to escape from the chaos—if only for a while. It had been Ashley’s idea to reclaim the facility, to take the nightmare and make it their own. They’d tried to dissuade her, but by then there’d been no arguing with Ashley. Not when her eyes were glowing, anyway.

  Now though, Chris had to admit that she’d been right. The Chead’s raid had left the facility silent and abandoned. With the Director running the laboratory beneath Alcatraz, Chris guessed the government had had no need for such a remote outpost. But it had served their purpose perfectly.

  Together they’d made their slow way back across New Mexico and Arizona, following their instincts, retracing their steps back to the place where they’d been created. Thinking of that time now, Chris couldn’t help but feel they’d been reborn within those cold walls. It was as though from the moment he’d woken in that steel cage, his old self had died, and a new Chris had emerged into the world.

  He shivered at the idea and turned his thoughts back to those long days after Susan’s death. Outside, they’d found the Kirtland Air Force Base in mid-evacuation, the Chead fled and the President’s winged experiments in disarray. Sam had flown across to face them. A few short words had passed between him and the other experiments, and most had turned and fled to the skies. But a few had remained, joining Sam and the others as they took to the air.

  Chris smiled as he thought of them now. Dalton, Angela, Marcus, Rebecca, Abby, Josephine. Their new friends. Their new family. The six almost made up for everyone else they’d lost.

  Almost.

  The boom of thunder pulled Chris back to the present. He swore as rain swept past, drenching him to the skin. Ashley’s white wings reflected the clash of lightning overhead. Beyond, Chris caught the faint glint of light on the mountainside.

  His heart lifted and drawing on his last reserves of strength, Chris forced himself on. Pulling level with Ashley, the two shared a grim smile. Misery was etched across Ashley’s soaking face. Chris felt a pang of guilt as he realized she probably would have beaten the rain if he hadn’t slowed her down. Still, he consoled himself, she would thank him when they had fresh meat for dinner.

  Finally, they found themselves above the bright glow of the facility. Angling their wings, they spiraled down through the darkness. Water dripped from Chris’s feathers, dragging on his wings, but it didn’t matter now. They were almost home.

  The courtyard in the middle of the facility beckoned. Chris breathed a sigh of relief as they touched down. Quickly he lifted his wings above their heads, sheltering them from the pounding rain. Ashley shot him a glare, eyebrows raised, and a smile twitched on Chris’s lips.

  “Better than nothing?” He laughed over the crash of thunder.

  In his arms, the goat began to bleat. Ashley gave a weary shake of her head. “Let’s get inside.”

  Nodding, they started towards the door. Light spilled from the windows, and Chris glimpsed shadows moving within. His heart lifted at the thought of the others. He hoped someone had thought to save them dinner. They were more than a few hours late, but that wasn’t unusual. Surely…

  A hinge squealed as the door into the facility swung open. Lighting flashed, silhouetting the figure standing in the doorway.

  “Is that a goat?” a voice called.

  Laughing, Chris nodded and picked up his pace. He could sense the temperature dropping, the rain turning to ice around them. The storm was building, preparing to hurl
all its might against the stony Californian peaks. It would be a long night.

  But with the warmth of home beckoning, Chris didn’t care.

  In the doorway, the shadow shifted, the last of the lightning fading away. Smiling, the figure stepped into the rain to meet them. Her wings lifted, merging with the darkness of the storm, protecting her from the rain. His heart swelling, Chris moved to meet her.

  They came together in a rush, as they always did, wings entwining, arms embracing, bodies uniting. It didn’t matter that the poor goat was caught between them, that its terrified bleats were ringing from the courtyard walls and sleet was dripping down Chris’s back. All that mattered was they were together, that Chris could feel her warmth in his arms, her breath against his skin, her lips beneath his.

  The world be damned, nothing else mattered but this.

  Phase Three: Complete.

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  Note from the Author

  Wow so this is officially my longest book! Of course it was really a combination of the original Rebellion and Retribution novels, so that probably helped a bit. As for the end, well you might notice it’s left a little open (or not depending on you’re interpretation ;-) ). Hopefully it gives you all something to ponder - such as what you’d do if you were put in such a situation! There’s even a poll over on my facebook page if you want to vote! Just click the link below!

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  Also by Aaron Hodges

  The Evolution Gene

  Book 1: The Genome Project

  Book 2: The Pursuit of Truth

  Book 3: The Way the World Ends

  Legend of the Gods

  Book 1: Oathbreaker

  Book 2: Shield of Winter

  Book 3: Dawn of War

  The Sword of Light Trilogy

  Book 1: Stormwielder

  Book 2: Firestorm

  Book 3: Soul Blade

  For five hundred years the Gods have united the Three Nations in harmony.

  Now that balance has been shattered, and chaos threatens.

  Read Now…

  Prologue

  Alastair sat alone in the darkness, staring into the flickering fire. Holding out his arms, he let its heat wash through his rain sodden cloak. The autumn storm had caught him in the open, drenching him to the skin before he could guide his horse to the shelter of the nearby trees.

  A rumble of distant thunder echoed through the trees, and shivering, Alastair shifted closer to the flames. He stifled a groan as his old joints cracked with the movement.

  Adding a fresh stick to the blaze, Alastair watched the greedy tongues of flame lick up its length. Wind rustled in the dark branches overhead and the fire flickered, its feeble light casting long shadows across the tiny clearing.

  A head appeared in the nearby trees, its long face stretching out towards him. Alastair’s heart clenched and he reached for his sword, before he realised it was only his horse. Snickering, his mount shook its head and retreated into the shadows.

  Shivering, Alastair released his sword hilt and cursed himself for a fool. He knew all too well the dangers of the night, the creatures that stalked the shadows of the Three Nations. Once he had been one to stand against such things. Now though…

  He shook his head, forcing away the morbid thoughts. He was still a warrior; his name was feared by the beasts of the dark.

  But he could not dismiss the whispers of his own doubt. It had been decades since he’d last fought the good fight, and the long years between had stripped him of his strength. The old man shivering at autumn shadows was a spectre, a ghost of the Alastair that had once battled the demons of winter.

  And now the demons had returned.

  “If only,” he whispered to the cold night. The words carried with them the weight of regret, the sorrow of wasted decades.

  If only he had known.

  If only he had prepared himself.

  Instead, the great Alastair had settled down and put the dark days behind him. And in his absence, the dark things had come creeping back. Now their shadow stretched across the Three Nations, threatening to shatter the fragile peace he had worked his whole life to create.

  It was only when Antonia came to him that he had realised his folly. Her reappearance shattered the peaceful world he’d built for himself, and dragged him back to a life he’d thought long buried.

  “Find them,” she’d ordered, and he had obeyed.

  Yet things never were simple when she was involved. For two years now he had searched, seeking out the family he had helped to hide so long ago. But the trail was ancient, and his quarry had long since perfected the skills he’d taught them.

  He had tracked them as far as Peakill before the line vanished. For all he knew, they were all gone. He prayed to Ansonia it was not so.

  The wind died away and the chirp of crickets rose above the whisper of the trees. The fire popped as a log collapsed, scattering sparks across the ground. He watched them slowly dwindle to nothing and then looked up at the dark canopy. Through the branches, he glimpsed the brilliance of the full moon.

  Alastair gritted his teeth. She would come tonight. His hands shook as a sick dread rose in his throat. The world would feel the consequences of his failure.

  “Not yet, there is still time,” the soft whisper of a girl’s voice came from the shadows.

  Antonia walked from the trees. A veil of mist clung to her small frame, obscuring her features. But her violet eyes shone through the darkness, the firelight pale by comparison. Those eyes held such power, such resolve, that Alastair shrank before them. The scent of roses filled the grove, cleansing the smoky air as she strode towards him.

  “It doesn’t matter. They’re gone, and I’m not strong enough to continue. Find someone else to fight this battle, I’m done!” He lowered his gaze, unable to meet her eyes.

  “There is no one else. You were there at the beginning – now you must see things through to the end,” her voice shook with anger. “Look at me, and tell me you would abandon everything we have worked for!”

  Alastair glanced up. “I abandoned my family for your cause,” he ground out the words. “I have sacrificed everything for you, what more do you want? It’s over, they’re gone.”

  He stared at Antonia, expecting anger, scorn, disappointment. She smiled. “It’s not over, Alastair. There is still hope. Elynbrigge has found them.”

  The breath caught in Alastair’s throat as he stared at the Goddess. “Where?” he choked.

  Antonia laughed, the sound like raindrops dancing on water. “The trail was old, but they are alive and well in Chole. You will find them there. He will watch over them until you arrive.”

  Alastair jumped to his feet, scattering firewood into the flames. The blaze roared, leaping to devour the fresh meal. He ignored it. The fire be damned, they were alive!

  “Wait,” Antonia’s tone gave him pause. “First, you must go to Oaksville. There is someone there who needs you. When you find him, take him with you. Be quick; Archon won’t be far behind.”

  “Who is in Oaksville?” The town was close, but the detour would cost precious time.

  “Eric.”

  Before he could question her further, she was gone.

  For a long time Alastair stood staring at the space where she had stood. Her words trickled through his thoughts, banishing his guilt, his anguish. In their place, a fragile spark of hope lit the darkness.

  He didn’t sleep that night. Instead, he mounted his horse and rode through the darkness, into the dawn. As the sun rose into the sky and drifted towards noon, he topped the rise over Oaksville and looked down on the town.

  Below, Oaksville lay nestled in the crook of a valley. Sickly pillars of smoke curled up from behind its wa
lls, obscuring the rooftops.

  Alastair kicked Elcano into a gallop.

  Chapter 1

  A pillar of smoke rose from the burning house. Flames roared and heat scorched his eyes, but he could not look away. The blaze lit the night, chasing the stars from the sky.

  Amidst the fire, the silhouette of a boy appeared. He stumbled from the wreckage, clothes falling to ash around him. Sparks of lightning leapt from his fingertips, leaving scorch marks on the tiled street. Soot covered his slim face, marred only by a trail of tears running down his cheeks. The wind caught his mop of dark brown hair, revealing the deep blue glow of his eyes.

  He wore an expression of absolute terror.

  “Help me!”

  Eric screamed as he tore himself from the dream. Gasping, he fumbled for his knife, fear rising to swamp his thoughts. The blade slid clear of his belt, and then tumbled through his hands. Diving forward, he caught it by the hilt and rolled to his feet.

  A wall of vegetation rose around him, sealing him in. The dark fingers of branches clawed at his clothing as he spun, scanning the clearing. But there was no one there.

  He was alone.

  His shoulders slumped as the last traces of the dream fell from him. He sucked in a breath, his heart still thudding hard in his chest. Returning the blade to his belt, he cast another glance around at his surroundings.

  The clearing was unchanged from the night before. The trees still stood in a silent ring, their leaves speckled with the red and gold of early autumn. Where the canopy thinned overhead he could make out touches of the blue sky, but below the dark of night still clung to the undergrowth.