by Aaron Hodges
“She left,” Liz whispered. “I never understood why. I stood in that corridor for a full minute, too scared to move a muscle. But she just stood there, staring. Then, she seemed to come alive. She walked past me like I wasn’t even there. I never saw her again.”
She didn’t add that it had been three days before anyone showed up, because the landowner finally reported a missing shipment of goods from the farm. Those three days were little more than a haze for Liz. Her mind had receded, succumbing to shock. She had spent hours crumpled on the hallway floor. Some form of awareness had eventually returned, and she’d woken covered in blood, her father’s dead eyes watching her. Screaming, she’d fled into the forest.
After that, Liz could remember only flashes. Standing in a shower, the blood streaming down the drain. Then looking into a shallow grave, her father lying amidst the dirt. The taste of vomit in her mouth, the reek of death.
It wasn’t until the police arrived that her sanity had finally returned. She had told them what had happened, watched as the SWAT team entered the forest, listened to their reassurances. But later, as she sat shivering in the back of a wagon, she had heard the policemen talking. They did not believe her story, that the Chead had spared her.
Liz’s senses had come crashing back when they started to discuss where to take her. Her parents’ warnings had returned, about the police and the disappearances, so common in the countryside. Silently, she’d slipped away into the woods, and never looked back.
Now, on the roof with Chris, Liz could hardly believe she had returned. An awful loneliness rose within her, a desperate grief for her parents and the life she had once lived. Sobbing, she clung to Chris, lost in the terror of her past, in the madness that had swallowed her existence.
Chapter 2
Chris watched as the first light of the morning sun touched the horizon. It began as a soft glow far in the distance, still hidden by the curve of the earth, but it quickly rose into view. Light shone across the plains, turning the fields of grass to gold, revealing the black and white dots of sheep and cattle. He closed his eyes as the rays reached him on the rooftop, basking in their warmth.
Turning on his side, he watched Liz where she lay curled up beside him. One of his wings was draped across her like a blanket, and she clutched it in her fingers, a soft smile touching her lips. Her own wings had relaxed with sleep, and now hung limply behind her.
His mind drifted, recalling again the story she had told him. He shivered, unable to comprehend the shock, the horror she must have felt, witnessing her mother…change. He bit back a sob as he thought of his own mother, and wondered at her fate.
Where are you, Mom?
He still clung to the hope that she lived, that the government had spared her from execution, or had delayed her sentence. He couldn’t bring himself to face the alternative, that she might be gone, that he might be alone.
If she was gone, he didn’t know how he would go on.
Grimacing, Chris forced his thoughts to more practical matters. They were a long way from safety yet. They’d found a temporary asylum on Liz’s ranch, but it was only a matter of time before the search reached the lonely mountain. Today, tomorrow maybe, but no longer than that. Once the helicopter found the dead soldiers and realized the escapees had breached their cordon, the hunters would come for them. They had to be far away by then.
But with wide plains stretching to the west, they would be spotted in minutes if they flew.
Chris stifled a yawn and rose to his feet, struggling to free his wings from Liz’s unconscious grip before tucking them against his back. Liz stirred with the movement, her eyelids flickering briefly, before settling back into sleep. Crouching down, he gently lifted her into his arms.
Letting her great black wings trail out beneath her, Chris crossed to the edge of the roof and jumped. His own wings snapped out as they fell, catching him and slowing his descent. He landed with the soft thump of bare feet on dirt and retracted his wings. Idly, he wondered again at the strange new appendages, at how quickly his friends had all adapted to their presence. Though he occasionally still tripped over their bulk, each day his wings became more a part of him.
He found Jasmine and Richard in the living area. Richard stood by the window, looking out over the plains. He glanced up as Chris entered, then resumed his silent vigil. Jasmine was in the adjoining kitchen, silently licking her fingers. A guilty look crossed her face when she saw him, and she quickly looked away. Glancing at the countertop, Chris saw the remains of the turkey had been picked clean. His stomach gave a sharp rumble at the sight.
Shaking his head, Chris crossed the room. The young girl lay asleep beside the long-dead fireplace, her grey wings pulled tight around her. He laid Liz beside her. To his surprise, the younger girl gave a soft murmur, and her arms stretched out to embrace Liz.
Chris smiled at the sight, warmth spreading through his chest. Whatever pain Liz still felt from her parents’…death, she was no longer alone. She had a new family now—even this strange little girl, it seemed.
He looked back at Jasmine and Richard, sensing the tension hanging over the room. They had said little yesterday of the ambush in the forest. They had all been too exhausted, still in shock after what had happened, what they’d witnessed. Jasmine hid it well, but he could see her fear, concealed beneath the anger. The encounter with the soldiers had frightened her to the core.
“Good morning,” he offered softly.
Richard turned from the window. “You didn’t wake us, for the watch?”
Chris shook his head. “I couldn’t sleep anyway. I thought you could all use the rest.”
Jasmine snorted as she walked out of the kitchen. “Yeah, right. Not because you were worried he might fall asleep again.”
Richard bowed his head and looked away, but she advanced on him, fire burning in her eyes.
Quickly stepping into her path, Chris raised his hands. “It’s not his fault, Jasmine.”
“No?” Her brown eyes bored into him, emerald wings trembling on her back. “What about you and Liz then? Wandering off into the forest, leaving us all alone. I guess we know how things stand between us, don’t we?”
“How things stand?” Chris stepped towards her, until only an inch separated them. “How things stand is the two of you have never been anything but antagonistic to us. And why? Because we were forced to fight your friends? Because we were jailed with Ashley and Sam?”
Jasmine refused to back down. Her eyes were like daggers as she looked up at Chris. “They killed our friends,” she snapped.
“And you didn’t?” Richard interrupted their exchange. His face was hard now. “You made the same choice, Jasmine. Or else Chelsea would be here instead of you, wouldn’t she?”
Air hissed between Jasmine’s teeth as she paled. “Don’t you dare bring her into this!”
“Stop!” Chris shouted over the two of them. He glanced at Liz and was relieved to see she still slept. He went on in a softer tone, “Stop this, both of you. We’ve all been forced to do things we regret. We went through that hell together, in case you’d forgotten. But we’re all that’s left now. We’re all any of us has. We have to find a way to work together.”
Jasmine drew in a long breath as she looked at Chris. She opened her mouth to speak, but her voice cracked, and suddenly she seemed to shrink. Hugging herself, she turned away. “You don’t understand,” she whispered. “When they caught us…when we were kneeling there on the ground…I’ve never been so afraid, knowing they were taking us back, that there was nothing I could do to stop it from happening.”
“Jasmine…” Richard’s voice was soft as he stepped towards her.
“Don’t!” Jasmine shrank away. “Just…don’t, Richard.”
“It wasn’t his fault, Jasmine,” Chris said again. “You saw how many there were, the weapons they had. They would have killed us if we’d tried to run. I don’t think it would have mattered in the end, whether Richard was awake or not.”
A strained silence fell across the room. Chris shivered as a cold breeze drifted in from the front door. He moved into the kitchen and attempted to scavenge a scrap of meat from the turkey carcass.
“What did happen back in the forest, Chris?” It was Richard who spoke, but when Chris looked up, he saw Jasmine shifting closer too.
Giving up on the turkey, he picked up a stray apple they’d picked earlier and took a bite. The memory of the Chead falling from the trees returned, and with it the screams of the soldiers. His stomach churned and he tossed the apple back onto the bench.
“The truth? I don’t know. We were watching you from the trees, talking about how to rescue you.” He eyed Jasmine pointedly at that. “But before we could act, the Chead appeared. I didn’t even hear them approach. One stepped between us and the soldiers and told us to stay. The others melted into the trees and attacked the men holding you.”
Jasmine shuddered. “Why would they help us?”
Chris shrugged. He had been asking himself the same question. That, and where they had come from, what they’d been doing in the forest in the first place. He started to speak, when a voice came from the doorway behind them.
“Well, what do we have here?”
The Genome Project continues in…
The Pursuit of Truth