The Genome Project

by Aaron Hodges

  Recovering, she turned and found the first guard already straightening. The two of them bore down on her, forcing her away from the others.

  Liz gripped her makeshift weapon tight, knowing she was hopelessly outmatched. Snarling, she threw herself forward anyway. They grinned, raised their batons. Then another guard staggered into them, sending them stumbling forward. Seeing her chance, Liz swung her pole into the face of the nearest guard.

  There was a satisfying crunch as her baton struck home, and he dropped without a sound. She leapt for the gap he’d left, trying to re-join the others, but the second guard had already recovered. He stepped in to block her, his baton already in motion. The blow caught her in the stomach, knocking the breath from her lungs and sending her backwards into the wall.

  Groaning, she tried to recover, but a fist caught her in the side of the face. Her feet crumpled beneath the force of the blow, and she slid sideways into the crook between the wall and the bunk. Tasting blood in her mouth, she tried to get her hands and knees beneath her, but a heavy boot crashed into her back, pinning her down.

  Her ears ringing, Liz twisted, desperate for a glimpse of the others. But the fight was already over. In the narrow confines, the guards’ weight and numbers had made short work of the four prisoners. Sam lay immobilized on his own bed, one arm twisted behind his back and a guard’s knee pressed between his shoulder blades. Ashley was similarly restrained on the floor nearby, while Chris still stood, his arms held by a man on either side of him. The last guard was just getting to his feet, a nasty bruise on his forehead.

  “About time,” Radly’s sarcastic voice came from somewhere out of view. “Would you like something easier next time? Maybe some toddlers?”

  The guards were silent as the doctors filed in, carrying an assortment of vials and syringes. As the doctors prepared themselves, Radly looked around the room. His eyes settled on Liz. “Get her up.”

  Tears stung Liz’s eyes as a rough hand grasped a handful of her hair and pulled. Screaming, she drove a fist into the man’s side, but the blow hardly seemed to faze him. A sharp pain came from her scalp as he pulled again. Kicking and screaming, Liz was hauled to her feet.

  “This one’s feisty,” the guard commented as he tossed her onto Ashley’s bed.

  Before Liz could free herself, a guard landed on her back. An awful helplessness welled in her as she tried and failed to shift his weight. Pain lanced from her scalp again as the guard yanked her head back, forcing her to look at them.

  “Stay still,” he growled in her ear.

  “Please don’t do this,” Ashley pleaded from the floor.

  The thud of a boot striking flesh silenced her desperate words. A low groan followed. Liz twisted again, trying to get a glimpse of her friend, but the white coat of a doctor moved to block her view. Doctor Radly stared down at her.

  “Enough,” Radly said, his tone brooking no argument.

  Unlike Halt, Radly did not appear to take any joy in their pain. Rather, he didn’t seem to care about their comfort one way or another. He moved around the cell with a cold efficiency, retrieving a stoppered vial from the hands of another doctor. Lifting a nasty-looking syringe, he eyed the thick needle for a second before driving it through the vial’s rubber stopper. Then he drew back the plunger and the liquid disappeared into the syringe.

  “Doctor Faulks,” Radly said, addressing someone standing just outside of Liz’s view, “this is the PERV-A strain?”

  “Yes,” a woman’s reply came quickly. “We’ve already finished with the B strain. The rest are marked down for PERV-A.”

  Nodding, Radly turned back to Liz. “Hold her.” Liz shuddered as the guard shifted, taking a firmer grip of her shoulders.

  From the corner of her eye, she watched Radly approach, his gloved hands cradling the syringe. He disappeared from her line of vision. Seconds later, firm hands tugged at her pants, and a cold breeze blew across her backside. She tensed, pushing back against her assailant’s relentless strength.

  A sigh came from behind her. “This will go easier for you if you relax, Ms. Flores.”

  Hearing her last name sent a bolt of shock through Liz. For a second she hesitated, then bit off a string a profanity that would have made even her father blush.

  Another sigh, then a cold cloth pressed against her butt-cheek. A shiver raced up her spine, more shock from the violation than from the cold. A low, guttural growl built in her throat, and the guard’s knee pressed harder into the small of her back. She no longer cared. A desperate horror was growing within her, an awful fear, a need to break free.

  She screamed again, writhing and bucking beneath the guard, straining to shift his weight.

  A sudden pinch came from her naked backside, followed by a strange pressure that spread quickly across her cheek. It was gentle at first, a cold numbness that tingled as it went. But it warmed quickly, like a fire gathering heat, until her muscles were aflame from its touch. The tingling raced outwards, spreading to her legs and back.

  Liz gasped, fighting the pain, desperate to fend it off. She gritted her teeth, tensing against its relentless spread. The pressure on her back vanished as the guard released her, but by then she barely noticed. Her attention was elsewhere, her focus fixed on the sensations rippling through her body.

  Then, as though a switch had been flicked, the muscles down the length of her back locked in a sudden cramp. Pain unlike any Liz had experienced closed around her, walling her off from the world, trapping her in the fiery arms of its cage. Her eyes snapped open, but all she saw were stars, whirling across her vision, blinding in their brilliance. In the distance she heard a scream, a girl’s voice tearing at the blackness of her mind, but she could do nothing to help her now.

  Agony engulfed her body, her mind, her very soul.

  Part 3

  Rebirth

  22

  Cold.

  The thought filtered through the thick sludge of Chris’s mind, parting the darkness like a curtain. Then it was all around him, wrapping his body in an icy blanket, turning his breath to ragged gasps. A shiver caught him, rippling down his body, throwing off the last dregs of sleep.

  Frozen air burned his nostrils as he inhaled, bringing with it the familiar tang of bleach. But there was more to the scent now, an underlying stench of rot and decay that made his stomach swirl. Opening his mouth, he tasted the metallic reek of blood and vomit.

  Sound was the next sense to return. His ears tingled, catching the murmur of a breath, the creak of metal joints moving beneath restless bodies, the hiss of an air conditioner. From somewhere in the room came the whisper of machines, the familiar whine of overhead lights.

  I’m alive. The words whispered in Chris’s mind, though he couldn’t quite recall why that surprised him.

  Keeping his eyes closed, he sucked in another breath, struggling to restore the shattered pieces of his consciousness. Dimly he remembered the fire burning up his spine, spreading to his chest, filling his lungs. But there was no pain now, only the dull ache of his muscles, as though they had lain unused for countless days.

  How long? His brow creased.

  How long had he lain here, unconscious, in the clutches of whatever drug the doctors had given him?

  Sounds came from all around him, growing louder, echoing as though from a wide expanse. Chains rattled as he moved his arms, and he felt the cold touch of steel restraining his wrists. Without opening his eyes, Chris knew he’d been handcuffed to the bed.

  Apparently, the doctors weren’t taking any chances with their patients.

  Memories drifted through the darkness of his thoughts, rising as though from a fog. Images of the fight flashed by, the crack as Sam fell to a baton, the thud of Ashley hitting the floor. He had not seen what happened to Liz, not until the guards had overwhelmed him, and he’d found her curled up in the corner.

  Helpless, he had watched as they’d lifted Liz onto the bed and injected her with something. Her screams had been instant and horrifying,
so deafening that even the guards had retreated from her. Her agony tore at his soul, begged for him to save her from the monsters. But he had been powerless against the raw strength of the men on either side of him.

  His heart beat harder at the memory. A sense of urgency took him, and he shifted his arms, testing the movement allowed by the handcuffs. The links rattled as he ran a hand along the chain and found where they attached to the bed’s guardrail.

  Other sounds came to him now: the beeping of a nearby machine, the whir of a pump, the hiss of air escaping tubes. His breath quickened, and he heard the beeping accelerate, matching the racing of his heart.

  Somewhere in the room, a door banged. Chris froze, his fingers still clenched around the metal bar. The soft tread of footsteps crossed the room, followed by voices.

  “Has the danger passed?” Halt’s voice came from Chris’s right.

  “We think so.” Chris recognized Fallow, though her voice was strained, exhausted. “It was a close thing though. I told you it wasn’t ready.”

  “Perhaps,” Halt replied, “but we expected losses. Despite our best efforts, some of the candidates were simply too weak to withstand the morphological alterations.”

  “We lost forty percent!” Chris winced as Fallow’s voice cracked. He heard a sharp exhalation of breath, before she continued in a calmer voice. “I expected mortality to be less than fifteen. As it is, we barely have a viable population. If we’d had more time…”

  “More time?” Halt laughed. “That is the cry of a coward, Fallow! More time, more money, always more something!” He took a breath. “As Archimedes once said: ‘Give me a lever and a place to stand, and I will move the earth.’ But us mere mortals only have the time and resources the government has provided us. And our time is up.”

  “The government will not be satisfied with a forty percent mortality rate, Halt,” Fallow growled.

  “No,” came the head doctor’s swift reply, “but if the survivors show promise, you will have won the time you need to find perfection, Fallow.”

  Silence followed. Slowly their footsteps came closer. Listening to the beep of the machine beside him, Chris held his breath, struggling to slow his racing heart.

  “And have we succeeded, Fallow?” Halt’s voice was eager.

  It was a while before the woman replied. “The results are mixed. Tissue samples taken over the last few weeks show a steady integration between the host chromosomes and the viral DNA. Candidates who received the PERV-A strain have advanced more rapidly than PERV-B, and now show complete integration. However, we have yet to determine whether the altered genomes are expressing correctly.”

  “Excellent.” There was unmasked glee in Halt’s voice. “When do you expect they’ll be ready to test genome expression?”

  “We’ve taken them off the immunosuppressants. So far they’ve shown no adverse reactions. We expect them to wake from their comas over the next few days. Once they’re conscious, we can begin testing their basic motor skills and cognitive function, to determine whether the virus had any degenerative effects…” Fallow trailed off as Halt snorted.

  “We don’t have time to waste on your procedures, Fallow. We need to move onto the second phase. For that we need results.”

  “I don’t see how—” Fallow began.

  “Don’t give me that, Fallow,” Halt snapped. “You know very well there is no need for your tests. As far as the Director is concerned, there is only one test the candidates need to pass.”

  There was a long pause before Fallow replied. “Halt…” Her voice was entreating now. “That’s simply not possible. They’ve been unconscious for weeks. The recovery time alone…they’re in no condition—”

  “If the experiment succeeded, recovery time should not be an issue.” Halt’s voice sounded like he was just a few feet away now. “Look, this one appears to be conscious.”

  A tingle raced up Chris’s spine at the man’s words. Silently he fought the instinct to leap from the bed and flee. His arms prickled as goosebumps spread along his skin.

  “You’re right.” Fallow’s murmur seemed to come from directly overhead. “Her heartbeat has recovered to normal levels.”

  A girl’s cry came from nearby, followed by the angry rattle of chains. Chris cracked his eyes open a fraction, desperate to see what was happening. Pain shot through his skull as white light streamed between his eyelids, momentary blinding him. Then the light faded and the room clicked into focus. Rows of beds stretched across a wide room, each occupied by an unconscious patients dressed in green gowns. A tangle of tubes and wires covered each body like a spiderweb spun around a fly. From the brief glimpse he caught, Chris guessed there were some seventy beds, though many were empty.

  The girl Halt and Fallow were discussing was sitting up in the hospital bed directly across from Chris. Her back was turned to him, and both her arms were chained to the railings. Curly black hair tumbled around her shoulders, and with a shiver of recognition, Chris realized it was Liz.

  She’s alive!

  Chris struggled to muffle his sharp intake of breath. Beside him, the beeping of the machine started to race. He clenched the sidebar of his bed until his palms hurt. Through the shadows of his eyelashes, he watched Halt move to stand over Liz.

  “Incredible.” Halt was studying the machine beside Liz’s bed. Lines and numbers flashed across the screen, Chris guessed providing readings from the tubes and wires that covered Liz. “Look at her vitals.”

  Fallow stood in silence beside him, shadows ringing her eyes, her lips pursed tight.

  Halt shook his head. “I would say she is fully recovered, wouldn’t you, Doctor Fallow?”

  Reluctantly Fallow nodded, a look of resignation coming over her face.

  “Excellent, then I see no reason to delay. Get her ready.”

  Blood pounded in Chris’s head, drowning out all reason. He didn’t know what Halt had planned for Liz, what fresh horrors awaited her, but he refused to lie quietly while she faced it alone. Whatever happened, they were still in this together. For all he knew, Sam and Ashley might already be gone, but Liz still lived. He would not lose her now.

  “Leave her alone,” he growled, sitting up in the bed.

  Liz turned towards him, her eyes widening with shock. Behind her, Fallow’s face seemed to crumple, while a grin spread slowly across Halt’s face. In that instant, Chris felt a pit open in his stomach; a sudden realization he had made a terrible mistake.

  Still, it was worth it to see the relief sweep across Liz’s face.

  “Excellent.” Halt clapped his hands. “Bring him, too. It may even the odds.”

  23

  Liz shivered as Fallow unlocked the cuffs around her wrists. Blinking, she looked at the woman’s face. Her features faded in and out of focus. A wave of nausea swept through Liz’s stomach, and she had to clench the sidebar to steady herself.

  “Are you okay?” Fallow asked.

  Liz flinched as a hand touched her shoulder. “Don’t!” she growled, leaning back.

  Closing her eyes, Liz willed her stomach to settle, then opened them again. To her relief, the features of Fallow’s face finally snapped into place. She blinked again, surprised to see the dark rings beneath the woman’s eyes, the patchwork of tiny cracks across the skin of her cheeks, the thin red capillaries threading her eyes. Her head swam; she had never noticed so much detail in a person’s face before.

  “I’m sorry.” Liz’s ears twitched at the sound, before a harsh shriek cut through the words.

  She recoiled, slapping her hands over her ears. Distantly she heard the doctor’s voice over the ringing. A hand reached for her, but she twisted, falling sideways on the bed. Fallow paused, staring down at her, and then retreated a step.

  Slowly the ringing died away, and Liz finally removed her hands from her ears.

  “I’m sorry.” Fallow’s voice was a whisper now, but Liz heard it with perfect clarity. “How do you feel?”

  Gritting her teeth, Liz glanced
across at Chris. As their eyes met her heart lurched, and she felt again the relief that had swept through her when he’d sat up.

  He’s alive!

  Despite the apparent odds against them, the two of them had survived whatever demented experiment the doctors had performed on them. Beside her, Fallow was removing the various tubes and wires that linked Liz to the machine.

  “Why are you doing this?” Liz tried and failed to keep the loathing from her voice.

  Fallow sighed, her eyes flickering away. “You’ll find out soon enough, Elizabeth.”

  Liz stared at the grief shining from Fallow’s eyes. Despite herself, she found herself pitying the woman, though she could not say why. Even so, the doctor’s words triggered a sense of foreboding, and Liz pressed on, desperate to exploit the woman’s weakness.

  “You don’t have to do this,” she whispered. “Halt’s gone. You could let us go, unlock our collars.”

  A faint smile twitched on Fallow’s lips. “A tempting proposition.” She shook her head. “They’d kill you both before you reached the front door. And then they’d come for me.” Their eyes locked, but after a moment Fallow only smiled and continued with false humor. “Besides, you are the culmination of my life’s work.”

  “What about our lives?” Chris’s snarl came from behind Liz. “What right—?”

  He broke off as Fallow raised a hand, her smile fading. “You know the law, Christopher. Your mother was found guilty of treason. In due time, she will answer for those crimes. As her son, you would have faced the same fate.”

  To Liz, Fallow’s words sounded hollow, as though they left a bad taste in her mouth. Even so, after that the woman ignored their pleas. Moving to Chris, she removed the cuffs and wires. Within a few minutes she had them on their feet, dressed in fresh orange jumpsuits, and staggering around the room like senior citizens.

  Liz’s legs trembled with each step, refusing to obey the simplest of instructions. A dull ache was quickly spreading up her hamstrings, and several times she had to grab at neighboring beds to steady herself. Chris was no better; he managed to knock over a series of machines within two steps of leaving his bed, after which he promptly crashed to the linoleum floor.