by Aaron Hodges
In seconds the other guard was up. He strode across to where Elizabeth fought to free herself, reached down, and wrapped one meaty hand around her hair. The girl gave a pained cry as he lifted her up and held her off the ground. She kicked feebly at empty air, her hands batting at his chest. Her mouth gaped as the colour fled her face.
With a contemptuous flick of his arm, the guard tossed her aside. Elizabeth crashed hard into the concrete. She struggled to regain her composure, but a heavy boot drove down onto her back, sending her face first into the floor.
Halt walked across and knelt beside the girl, a cold smile on his snakelike lips.
“Elizabeth,” Halt’s voice was laced now with honey, “be a good girl now. You cannot join the project with those reminders of your old life. Remove your clothes.”
Chris shuddered as the man stood, his grey eyes flashing as he watched the girl lift herself to her hands and knees. One trembling hand reached for the buttons of her shirt and began to pluck them open. Closing his eyes, Chris looked away, unwilling to participate in her shaming.
He glanced back up a few minutes later as the sound of metal striking concrete rang through the room. His eyes were drawn to the object now lying on the ground between Halt and the shivering girl. The thick steel links of a chain lay between them like a snake, the silver metal shining in the fluorescent lights. For an instant, he wondered where it had come from, but his thoughts quickly turned to what it was.
A collar.
CHAPTER 7
“Put it on,” Halt’s voice slivered through the room, cold, commanding.
Elizabeth flinched away from him, but the guard’s hand flashed out and caught her by the hair. Dragging her forward, he shoved her back to her knees in front of the collar. A tremble went through the girl as she glared up at Halt, her eyes flashing. For a second, Chris thought she would resist, but then with a trembling hand she reached out and picked up the collar.
Elizabeth’s mouth twisted with disgust as she held the steel linked chain in front of her. Her eyes closed, her nostrils flaring as she sucked in a breath. Chris waited, his own breath held, aware his turn would come soon.
“This is what you want, you disgusting–” the girl broke off as the guard’s fist sent her reeling.
A low groan came from her lips, but she straightened on the ground, the collar still in hand. She looked at Halt, and then away again. With trembling hands, she lifted the collar to her throat. The click it made as it fastened echoed loudly in the concrete room.
Halt smiled and clapped his hands. The guards grabbed Elizabeth by each arm and hauled her back up. With a few shoves they had her back in the cage, and the steel door swung shut behind her. Then Halt’s grey eyes turned towards Chris, where he still waited naked inside his own cage.
“I suppose it’s my turn then?” He asked with false bravado.
Halt stared him down, the grey eyes piercing him through. Horror curled its way up Chris’s throat as he felt his cheeks warming. His eyes drifted towards the other doctors, who still stood in silence. Outside, the guards approached his cage. Watching them, he saw that one carried a bundle of orange clothing, the other a steel link collar identical to the one Elizabeth now wore.
“Move to the back of the cage,” one guard ordered.
Clenching his fists, Chris stumbled back from the door as the guard flicked the latch and pushed it open. His body ached from his beating, and in the narrow space he didn’t like his chances of besting the two men. He had already watched the girl take that approach and fail. He would have to wait, bide his time until an opportunity arose.
Inside the cage, the first of the guards collected his clothes and replaced them with the orange bundle. The collar was placed on top of the pile, and then the two men retreated, swinging the door shut behind them.
Chris looked across at Halt, waiting for an order. When none was forthcoming, he moved across to the pile and picked up the collar. Raising an eyebrow, he tried and failed to suppress his sarcasm. “What are we? Your pets now?”
Halt smirked. “Would you like another lesson, Christopher?”
Letting out a long breath, Chris shook his head. He squeezed his fingers, letting the cold metal of the collar dig into his flesh. His heart pounded hard in his chest, screaming a warning, that if he obeyed now there would be no going back.
Dimly, he remembered a story his father had told him when he was younger. It had been almost ten years since the cancer had taken him, but he could still recall his father’s voice with crystal clarity. His rough baritone drifted up from Chris’s memories, as he described how the Mahouts in Thailand had once tamed their elephants.
The Mahouts had placed chains around the legs of young elephants and attached them to heavy pegs in the ground. Whenever the elephants tried to escape, the chain would contract, cutting into the elephant’s leg, making it bleed. Eventually the elephant would realise the futility of trying to escape.
As adults, the same chain and peg were used to restrain the giant creatures. And though they then possessed the strength to escape the peg and chain, they never tried.
There had been a point to his father’s tale, but for the life of him, Chris could not recall its meaning now. Instead, he stared down at the collar, wondering if he was about to take the first step into his own captivity.
But he had no choice but to obey.
With deliberate slowness, Chris raised the collar to his neck. A tingle ran through his skin as the metal touched the flesh of his throat, and a terrifying dread rose within him. A voice screamed for him to run, to hurl the collar away from him.
Instead, he closed his eyes and pulled the collar closed around his neck. The steel links slid across his flesh like the coils of a python, icy to the touch, and came together with a loud click.
Struggling to breathe, Chris sank to his knees and fumbled for the pile of clothes. A sudden, desperate shame at his nakedness took him. He felt exposed, as though his nudity highlighted his new bondage, relegating him to little better than an animal.
Scrambling into the bright orange uniform, he sank back to his knees. A sick despair rose in his throat, but he pushed it down, struggling to keep a flicker of hope above the rising waters. The collar’s icy grip tightened around his throat, stealing away his breath. A claustrophobic scream grew in his throat as he coughed for air.
Halt only gave a satisfied nod and stepped back from the cage.
Glancing across at the other cage, he saw Elizabeth had managed to pull on an orange jumpsuit of her own. The heavy fabric clung to her lithe frame, and Chris couldn’t help but think of what he had glimpsed of her earlier. A dark bruise showed on her forehead as her clear blue eyes flickered in his direction. His cheeks warmed as she raised an eyebrow and brushed a lock of hair from her face. The wild black curls hung around her shoulders, the ends jagged and split, as though they had been cut by a knife.
Taking a breath, the girl pulled herself to her feet. The collar flashed around her neck, an all too vivid reminder of their captivity. Her fists clenched and her lips drew back in a snarl, but otherwise she remained quiet.
In front of the cages, Halt gave a satisfied smirk. “Very good. I’m pleased to see you are both fast learners. Perhaps you will surprise me.” Chris flinched as Halt clapped his hands again. “Now, before you are taken to your new accommodations, I must warn you, I have little patience for agitators. Dissent will not be tolerated. Those collars around your necks are more than they appear. Do not attempt to remove them. Any effort to tamper with them without the correct key will trigger a small explosive discharge, which will have… unpleasant results.”
Chris swallowed hard. A trick of sweat ran down his neck and he tasted bile in his throat. Clenching his teeth, he sucked in a breath and fought to keep himself from throwing up whatever remained in his stomach. In the opposite cage, Elizabeth showed no sign she had heard Halt’s words. She stood with eyes closed, one arm against the cage wall, as though that was the only thing keeping her up
right.
When neither of them spoke, Halt continued. “As we have no wish to risk our guards every time our subjects step out of line, the collars are used as a disciplinary tool.”
Leaning against the wall of his cage, Chris stifled a fake yawn, unwilling to show his fear. “Seems a little harsh, blowing off someone’s head for a bit of back talk.”
The doctor glared at him, then gave a slow shake of his head. “Perhaps you are not as quick to learn as I thought,” he raised his arm and pulled down his sleeve.
He wore a sleek black watch around his wrist, all shining metal and glass. As he tapped its surface, the screen glowed bright blue. Another tap and a loud beep came from Chris’s collar. The hairs on his neck stood up as Halt looked back at him.
“Your collars are capable of delivering an electric shock of five hundred volts and up to one hundred milliamps. They are activated remotely by these watches, which you will find all personnel within the facility are equipped with.” A slow grin spread across Halt’s face. “A simple tap of the screen, by any doctor or guard, and all collars within a twenty-foot radius are activated. Or an individual subject’s collar may be chosen at our discretion. Perhaps you would like a demonstration?”
Holding his breath, Chris shook his head. From the corner of his eye, he saw the girl make the same gesture.
Halt eyed the two of them, his eyes lit with a strange light. “You don’t seem too enthusiastic,” he laughed. “Too bad.” Before anyone could move he pressed a thumb to the watch.
Chris opened his mouth to scream as the collar around his neck gave a loud beep. Before a sound could escape him, fingers of fire wrapped around his throat, cutting off his cry. His jaw locked hard as electricity surged through his body. His back arched with sudden agony, and the strength went from his legs, sending him toppling to the concrete. A burning cramp tore through his muscles as he thrashed against the ground. Damp water still pooling on the concrete soaked through his new clothes, but he barely noticed.
A loud buzzing filled his ears, but through it, he could hear Halt’s voice. “This is twenty milliamps. Enough to deliver a painful shock, even freeze your motor functions. Not enough to kill – or at least, not over short periods of time.”
Another beep sounded and the flow of electricity ceased. Chris slumped to the ground, eyes closed, a low moan crackling up from his chest. The sudden absence of pain was a sweet relief, He sucked in an eager breath, the cold air burning in his throat.
As the last twitch in his muscles faded away, he cracked open his eyes and looked through the wire mesh. He had fallen on his side and now found himself looking through the wire at Elizabeth. She was on the ground as well, her tangled hair covering her face, her limbs splayed out across the concrete. Her forehead sported a nasty cut where she must have struck the ground.
Halt stood between the cages, the same dark grin twisting his face. His eyes found Chris’s, and the smile spread.
“Welcome to the Praegressus Project.”
CHAPTER 8
Angela Fallow waited until the door closed behind her before allowing her mask to crack. A sharp sob cut the air as she stumbled across the room and collapsed onto the bed. The soft duvet cushioned her fall, but it did nothing for the burden weighing on her soul. Burying her head in a pillow, she finally allowed the tears to flow.
What have I done?
For years she had worked in government laboratories, studying the creatures that had come to be known as the Chead, examining their genetic composition and identifying chromosomal alterations within their DNA. While the more superstitious citizens of the Western Allied States regarded the Chead as some paranormal phenomenon, she had dedicated her life to dissecting the mysteries of the creatures.
She had been the first to discover the link between the Chead awakenings across the country. A short sequence of nucleic acids discovered in one of the samples put her on the trail, and within days she had confirmed her suspicion. Whether the Chead had woken in rural Washington or downtown Los Angeles, the same virus was present in the genome of every known Chead.
Porcine Endogenous Retrovirus, or PERV, a well-known retrovirus amongst the scientific community. Since the turn of the twentieth century, the virus had been used to exchange DNA between pig and human cells. PERV was a provirus – meaning it fully integrated into the host genome. This led to its use in the modification of genes within the organs of pigs, to increase their receptivity when transplanted into human subjects.
But Angela had checked the records of every Chead, and none had ever been a candidate for xenotransplantation.
Normally, the presence of the virus alone would have meant little. There was not a person alive whose chromosome did not contain some viral elements. In fact, many scientists speculated the alterations caused by proviruses played a significant role in evolution, altering genes and alleles at a rate far faster than ordinary mutation.
However, once the link had been discovered, it had not taken Angela long to piece out other discrepancies in the Chead chromosomes. Alongside the PERV recombinations, she identified genome markers with foundations in everything from primates to canines, eagles to rabbits. Even genes from rare animals such as the Philippine Tarsier and the Western Australian Taipan had featured in the genetic puzzle presented by the Chead.
In the end, the evidence all pointed to a single, undeniable conclusion.
The Chead were no accident. Someone had created them, designed a virus and released it into the world.
The question of who remained unanswered, though the government had quickly pointed the blame on that old enemy – the United States. Or at least the scattered remnant states remaining of the once-great-nation.
But that was not Angela’s concern. Now knowing the cause, she had applied herself to countering its spread. Fortunately, the virus did not appear to be contagious. No cases had been reported of friends or family contracting the virus from awakened Chead, though the government still rounded them up as a precaution.
That left the question of how the victims were infected. She suspected an outside source was at work there, though again, it was up to others to solve that puzzle.
As for those already infected by the virus, Angela had quickly ruled out a cure. Ordinary viruses incorporated themselves into the host DNA, much as the Chead virus had done. However, the similarities ended there. Symptoms of an ordinary viral infection arose when a virus began self-replication, eventually leading to cell rupture and the spread of virons to other cells. Sickness showed as human cells were hijacked by the virons and used for further self-replication.
Instead of following this route, the Chead virus remained latent within the cells. It appeared to be almost perfectly incorporated into the human chromosomes of the Chead subjects. The alterations exhibited by the Chead were the result of gene expression in the cells themselves – the first symptoms only showing once those genes activated. This was similar to how many babies possessed blue eyes for their first few weeks, until genes for brown eyes were activated.
In other words, the virus was a part of the Chead now. There was no reversing the process.
Upon learning of Angela’s discovery, the government had decided to take her research in a new direction.
Now she was close to an answer – closer than they’d ever been before. Initial trials on bovine subjects had proven successful, but Halt and his government overseers wanted more. They were desperate for an answer, for a beacon of hope to hold up to the people. Even the usually ice cold Halt had appeared flustered in recent weeks, and she sensed far more than her career rested on what happened over the next few weeks and months.
Shivering, Angela wrapped her arms tight around herself. Not for the first time, she wondered what her life would have been like, had she taken a different path. Deep in her soul, she still longed for the wild open space of the countryside, the endless stars and unmarked horizons. Her family’s ranch had been remote, far from the bustling hives of the cities – though of course,
they did not really own it. They had worked the land, harvested the crops, while the landowner in the city took the profits.
As a young girl, she had resented that fact, and the limitations of rural life. So she had studied and schemed, and won a place in a scholarship programme in Los Angeles. She had grasped the opportunity with both hands, and run off to find her place in the big wide world.
Funny how things changed, with thirty-five years’ worth of wisdom.
The world was a wild place too, but in the city, life was far less forgiving than the country.
Angela shuddered as she heard again the awful screams, watched as the girl writhed on the floor of the cage. In the silence of her mind, Angela imagined the girl’s blue eyes seeking her out, begging for help.
Another sob tore from Angela’s throat. Those eyes, that face; they were so like her own. In those youthful features, she saw her past, saw the girl she had once been reflected back.
What have I done?
The question came again, persistent. She had never thought it would come to this. When Halt had told her their plan to gather candidates for human trials, it had seemed simple. Family members convicted of treason were destined to suffer the same fate as the accused. So why not make use of those lives?
Young, healthy candidates were needed for the trials to maximise the chances of success. The children of traitors seemed the perfect answer to their needs.
Only now she faced the reality of that decision, it was more awful than she could ever have imagined. Halt might see them as a means to an end, but Angela could not look past the humanity in their eyes. Halt was a monster, seeming to delight in the breaking of each new candidate, but for Angela, the guilt ate at her soul.