The Pursuit of Truth

by Aaron Hodges

  “I wouldn’t,” Sam said softly, nodding to Mira, “she used to be Chead.”

  The man’s eyes widened, and he glanced quickly at Mira, as though to reassure himself her eyes weren’t actually grey. Sam could see him weighing his options, deciding whether to make a break for it or not.

  “We’re not going to hurt you,” Sam murmured. “Just sit down and listen to what I have to say.”

  Jonathan gave one last glare, then sat down on the bed.

  “Where are they?” he repeated.

  Sam sighed. “First, tell me what you do for the government.”

  The man’s eyes hardened, but he gave a grim nod. “I’m a translator,” he grated. “I’ve been away on business, helping with our ambassador in Mexico. Now, tell me where my wife and daughter are!”

  Mira growled and spread her wings as he raised his voice, but Sam waved her down. His heart ached, and he could barely bring himself to say the words.

  “They’re dead,” he croaked. “I’m sorry.”

  At Sam’s words, the fight seemed to drain from Jonathan. He went limp against the mattress and turned his face away, but not before Sam glimpsed the tears in his eyes. His heart ached for the man.

  “How?” Jonathan whispered.

  Silently, Sam returned to his chair. He closed his eyes and took a breath, before recounting the story, the one the others had told him. How they had met his daughter, Daniella, when she’d been waylaid in an alleyway by policemen, how she had brought them back to the apartment as thanks for their help, how Danny had cleaned Chris’s gunshot wound. And how Danny had finally recognized them, and called the police.

  “So you killed her?” There was anger in Jonathan’s voice again.

  “No,” Sam whispered. He caught the fury in Jonathan’s eyes, but he didn’t look away. “When the SWAT team came, they were led by a man named Doctor Halt. You know him—he stood beside me during the President’s speech. After they captured my friends, he ordered your wife and daughter to be killed, so there would be no witnesses to the escape of his precious experiments.”

  “No,” Jonathan whispered. “That’s not possible. We have laws—”

  “They don’t apply to people like Halt,” Sam cut in. “They don’t apply to the powerful, not anymore.”

  Jonathan stared at him for a long moment, and then bowed his head. Silence fell, and Sam wondered if he and Mira should leave the man to his grief. He was just preparing to stand when Jonathan spoke again.

  “Where are they now?” he asked.

  Sam paused. “They’re…they’re in Daniella’s room.”

  “Can I see them?” Jonathan looked up at him, his eyes wet with tears.

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea…” Sam said.

  “Please,” Jonathan begged.

  Sam let out a long breath and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see what waited in that room. One glance had been enough. But who was he to deny a father, a husband, one last chance to say goodbye to his family?

  He nodded. “Let’s go.”

  36

  Liz let out a long sigh as she sank onto the couch. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the cushions. Her heart was only just beginning to slow. The sound of the front door crashing open had torn her from her sleep, and springing up, she’d raced into the living room, expecting to see soldiers charging into the apartment.

  Instead, she’d found Sam standing defensively in the lounge, watching as Chris dragged an unconscious man through the front door.

  Now the dull ache of her body was worse than when she’d gone to bed, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up and return to the land of dreams. Her conversation with Jasmine had left her drained, and she hadn’t even begun to recover from the fight in the courthouse. But Jasmine and Ashley were still sitting at the propped-up kitchen table, and no one else seemed to want to sleep.

  The cushions shifted beneath her as someone else sat on the couch. Liz cracked open her eyes to find Chris next to her, his hazel eyes watching her. Suppressing a groan, she rolled onto her side, turning her back to him. Exhausted as she was, she didn’t have the energy to face him just then.

  “Liz…” Chris whispered.

  Feeling his hand on her shoulder, she shrugged it off and glanced back at him.

  “What?” she snapped with more force than intended.

  Chris flinched, and she saw the hurt in his eyes. At that moment, she didn’t care. All she wanted was to curl up in his arms and fall asleep—but she couldn’t. Fueled by that knowledge, her anger caught light.

  “What do you want, Chris?” she pressed when he didn’t answer her question.

  His eyes hardened then, and he stood suddenly. “Nothing.” He moved away.

  Liz’s rage died in her chest as Chris walked across the apartment to stand at the broken window. She wanted to call him back, to apologize and tell him how much she was hurting. But the words caught in her throat, and finally she slumped back on the couch and buried her head in the cushions.

  A few minutes later she heard the door to the hallway click open. She carefully wiped away her tears before looking up at Sam. His face was grim, and he did not meet her eyes. Ashley stood and went to him, her white wings stretching out to embrace him. Running a hand through his hair, she stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek.

  “How did it go?” Ashley whispered.

  “Did he believe you?” Liz added.

  Sam looked from Ashley to Liz, then shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said, his tone unusually sober. “He was in shock, I think.”

  Liz shivered. “Who wouldn’t be?” She glanced at Jasmine, wondering if the girl would press her case again. Sitting at the table, Jasmine caught Liz’s gaze, but she only snorted and shook her head.

  “Mira’s watching him?” Chris asked as he moved away from the window.

  Outside, the sun had just begun to stain the skyline. It was overcast, and the buildings she could see looked dull and lifeless.

  Sam crossed to the table and sank into one of the chairs. Ashley sat beside him as he nodded. “She’s keeping him company. He’s…with his family. I couldn’t…” His voice trailed off, but Liz didn’t need to ask him what he meant.

  Glancing at the door to the hall, she swallowed. Former Chead or not, she didn’t envy Mira’s position. She saw again the eyes of the dead women staring up at her, the broken body of the girl Chris had saved, and shuddered.

  “So, where are we going?” Chris asked.

  Liz shook her head. She was out of ideas. In truth, there were only a few options. They could escape to the countryside, where they might avoid detection for months, or even years. The countryside was her home, and it would not be difficult to scavenge enough food to feed them. But if they retreated to the wilderness, they would be surrendering, giving in to the government’s corruption.

  After Richard’s sacrifice, that was no longer an option. His death hung over them like a lead cloak, demanding justice, requiring retribution. They could not leave everything behind, could not pretend the fight in the courthouse had never happened.

  “I don’t know,” she said finally. “I don’t even know how we’re going to navigate in the dark.”

  Sam was resting his head against the table, but he stirred at her words. “I can help with that,” he said, smiling. “I might be a bit of an urbanite, but my father taught me a few things. Once we get beyond the city lights, I can use the stars to point us in the right direction. If that’s where we decide to go, anyway.”

  “Well that’s something,” Jasmine murmured. She was leaning back in her chair, but her eyes had taken on a strange intensity. “I’ve been thinking…if no one has any better ideas, what if we went back to the facility?”

  Liz lurched upright on the couch. “You can’t be serious?”

  Climbing to her feet, Jasmine shrugged. “Why not?” she asked, making her way across the room. “There’s nothing for us here in San Francisco—not with the whole city out to get us. B
ut even with Halt gone, someone is bound to pick up where he left off. They certainly won’t have any lack of funding after your little display, Sam.”

  Sam cursed and climbed to his feet. Hands on the table, he glowered at Jasmine. “What did you say?”

  Jasmine sneered as she faced off against him. Liz struggled up from the couch, remembering now the bad blood between the two. Her muscles screamed in protest as she stood.

  “You heard me, Sam,” Jasmine said slowly. “How could you do it? How could you support him? How many other kids like us have you sentenced to death?”

  Liz quickly stepped between them as Sam stalked around the table, his face dark with fury.

  “Stop that,” Liz snapped, “both of you. Don’t we have enough problems without fighting amongst ourselves?”

  When neither of them answered, she turned to face Jasmine. “We’ve all done things we regret, Jasmine,” she whispered. “Things we had no choice about.”

  “I didn’t want to do it, Jasmine,” came Sam’s voice from behind her. She glanced back and saw the fight had gone from his eyes. “If it had just been me, I would have died before I helped him…”

  Beside him, Ashley went rigid. A wave passed across her face and her lip trembled. Her eyes glimmered, but whatever she was feeling, she swallowed it down. Liz’s heart went out for her—for the pain she must have felt, being helpless against Halt while he used her to get to Sam.

  “Am I interrupting something?” a voice called.

  Liz jumped, and the five of them turned as one towards the voice. They stared as Mira wandered into the room. The stranger Chris had knocked out was now standing behind her in the doorway to the corridor. His eyes travelled over the room, taking in each of them in turn, lingering on their half-folded wings. Safe in their own company, they hadn’t bothered to cover them. Though his eyes were red, there was no sign of tears on his face now.

  Swallowing visibly, the man looked back at Sam. “So…it’s true. You all have wings…”

  Sam shrugged and the rest of them nodded reluctantly. The newcomer shivered and lowered his eyes. “So the rest must be true as well,” he said grimly. “What he said about where you came from, what they did to you…and my family?”

  Chris slumped onto the arm of the sofa. “I’m sorry about Danny and Daniella.”

  Jonathan closed his eyes as Chris spoke their names, and Liz could see the effort it took him to maintain his composure. Sucking in a breath, he looked at them again, his lips drawn tight.

  “I knew what they were capable of.” His voice shook. “I just never…I never thought it would happen here, to my own family, on our own soil.”

  Liz frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “During my travels with our ambassadors, I’ve…seen things, heard things. Even our traditional allies now question our methods. I’ve just returned from Mexico. Their president is concerned with the recent arrests carried out by the Department of Domestic Affairs.”

  “Some pretty legitimate concerns, it turns out,” Sam muttered.

  Liz nodded. They had all been victims of that program, along with the countless others who hadn’t survived the project. Abducted in the night, their parents accused of treason, there had been no trial, no jury, just judgement. They’d been spirited away to a facility deep in the Californian mountains, never to be seen again—if not for the conscience of Doctor Fallow. Liz still woke screaming most nights, remembering the horrors they’d been subjected to.

  “Yes, well, during my last trip, the Mexican government all but accused our ambassadors of using the war against terror as a cover to remove those who opposed our government.”

  “And you did nothing with that information?” Jasmine growled, stepping towards him.

  Jonathan’s eyes widened and he raised his hands. “What was I meant to do with it?” he asked. “Believe me, I’ve heard worse accusations brought against us over the years. Hell, I’ve seen things that would have people rioting in the streets. But who was I going to tell?”

  “The media?” Liz suggested, without conviction.

  Jonathan snorted. “The media are bought and paid for by the rich—who go hand-in-hand with the government. They have a very…narrow agenda.”

  Liz and the others nodded. That was no surprise. While not officially controlled by the government, like most assets in the country, the media had been consolidated and bought out decades ago. And the once popular social media was no longer an option. After ceding from the United States, the WAS had been determined to avoid the decay that had consumed their former nation. Fake news dispersed over social media had been identified as a key contributor. Taking a page from China’s book, the government had erected a nationwide firewall to block the platforms. And these days…well, it was rare to have even an old desktop, let alone the internet.

  “So what will you do now?” Chris asked. “Will you still go on as though nothing has happened?”

  Jonathan shivered, and Liz caught a glimmer in his eyes as he looked away. He stared at the wall, as though he could see straight through it, to where his wife and child lay in an endless sleep.

  “Now…” Jonathan croaked, “now it’s too late, isn’t it? I thought if I behaved, if I did what they asked and turned a blind eye, that my family would be safe.”

  He faced them again, jaw clenched, his red-stained eyes sweeping across the room. “I want to hurt them,” he grated. “I want to make the ones who did this pay.”

  Liz’s heart hammered against her ribcage as she looked into his eyes and saw the rage there, the untapped hatred.

  “How?” she asked.

  Jonathan sucked in a breath, and the tension left him. A smile touched his lips. “That’s the thing, isn’t it?” He shook his head. “How do you bring down a government?”

  “We’ve been wondering the same thing,” Chris answered. “It’s not an easy task, with the world against you.”

  “You need allies,” Jonathan replied. “You need a movement, need people who will stand with you against your enemies.”

  Jasmine snorted. “Let us know when you find them.”

  Jonathan’s smile widened. “It just so happens, I already have.”

  37

  Susan gasped as the Chead shoved her backwards into the laboratory. Her feet tripped on the slick floor and she went crashing down onto the linoleum. The impact drove the breath from her lungs, and choking, she scrambled away, trying to put as much space between herself and the Chead as possible.

  Cold laughter chased her across the room. Finding herself in a corner, Susan looked back at the creatures, the cold fingers of terror clutching at her throat. They stood in the doorway watching her but made no effort to give chase.

  Swallowing a scream, she struggled to get a grip on her fear. Her heart was racing, and panic had set in long ago, robbing her of reason. She sucked in a long, shuddering breath, and felt a little better.

  Where did they come from? How did they get in?

  Crouched in the corner, she stared up at them, struggling to make sense of the nightmare. Two more Chead had joined the first. They stood barring the only exit, their clothes stained with mud and blood. They whispered amongst themselves, but Susan couldn’t make out the words over the pounding in her ears.

  They went silent as she started to stand, their grey eyes turning to watch her. She stilled, but when they made no move towards her, she straightened the rest of the way. A quick glance around the lab confirmed her fear. There was only one panic button in this room—the one on the wall beside the doorway, right behind the Chead.

  “Hecate…” Susan jumped as a fourth Chead appeared in the doorway. “The others are…secure.”

  The Chead that had abducted her turned towards the newcomer. “Good.” A smile touched the creature’s lips. “Bring them here…and send word…to Talisa. It is safe…for her.”

  The other creatures nodded and disappeared back into the corridor, leaving Susan alone with three again. Standing in the corner, she shivered
as a memory tugged at her.

  Hecate.

  The name was familiar. It stuck in her mind, ringing through the vaults in her memory. And all of a sudden she knew where she’d seen the creature before, where it had come from.

  It had been on her first day in the facility, when Angela Fallow had shown her the Chead they kept imprisoned. The doctor had explained how before her time, Halt’s earliest viral strains had failed. Their minds overwhelmed by the physiological changes, the subjects had gone insane, mimicking the same phenotypes as those infected with the Chead virus. Hecate had been the name of one of the creatures, from before the change. But how…how did it remember?

  And why had they returned?

  A low groan came from Susan’s throat, and the creature’s eyes flicked in her direction. She sank back to her knees as it padded towards her. It looked down at her for a moment, before crouching beside her.

  She wrapped her arms around her chest and looked away, but iron fingers grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to look into its stony eyes.

  “Such fearful creatures.” Hecate’s words were mocking. “There is such…terror within you.”

  Tears burned Susan’s eyes. “Please,” she croaked, “don’t hurt me.”

  A dry, rasping laughter came from the Chead. Its nostrils flared as it studied her. “You are…new.” Its grin spread. “Perhaps you will…help me?”

  Susan nodded, grasping for the lifeline. “Yes! Whatever you want! Just…don’t hurt me.”

  The laughter came again. They were in one of the laboratories, where the benches were crowded with various machines and tubes. Some were still whirring gently on the benchtop as they finished their cycles. Susan wondered where the doctor in charge was, before noticing the pool of blood seeping out from behind one of the benches.

  “Where is our…” The creature frowned, pausing as if in thought. “Where is our…creator?”