The Praegressus Project: Part One

by Aaron Hodges

  “What about them?” Chris cried as screams chased after them.

  The old woman was struggling to keep up, and she shook her head without breaking stride. Together they burst from the trees out onto the streets. The towering spire of the obelisk disappeared as they turned a corner. Ahead, tyres screeched as a van pulled off the road and drove up onto the sidewalk. The sliding door rattled open and a man gestured frantically at them. Without hesitating, they threw themselves inside as the woman climbed into the passenger seat.

  Then the van was racing away, disappearing into the winding streets of San Francisco, and all Liz could do was stare at the others in shock. They stared back at her, eyes wide, feathers ruffled, and clothes bloodied. They looked just as lost as her. Sucking in a breath, Liz tried to make sense of the scenes in the square, and failed.

  What the hell is going on?

  CHAPTER 13

  When the darkness finally retreated and Susan woke, she was surprised to find herself alive. But when she opened her eyes, she immediately wished she could return to the darkness. She was lying on the floor in the laboratory again, but she was no longer the Chead’s only prisoner. Around her, the other doctors stood in various states of dress. Some wore only nightgowns, while others had managed to pull on yesterday’s clothes before the Chead had come for them. There was still no sign of any guards, and Susan shuddered to think what had become of them.

  Blinking in the harsh overhead lights, she turned towards the doorway. Her heart sank. There were now half a dozen Chead gathered around the door. Their soft whispers carried across the room, but Susan couldn’t make out what they were saying. For now they seemed to be ignoring their prisoners, but with them standing in the only exit, there was still no chance of escape.

  Susan gritted her teeth as she sat up, her muscles screaming their protests. The other doctors glanced at her, but no one moved to help. She cursed under her breath and slowly struggled to her feet. Glancing at the others, she wondered why they were all still alive. What were the Chead planning to do with them?

  She looked around as the creatures in the doorway fell silent. The group of Chead had straightened, and their eyes alert now. An expectant silence hung in the air, and Susan craned her neck, trying to get a glimpse of the doorway. The other doctors began to whisper as a woman stepped into the laboratory.

  “Silence!” one of the Chead roared, and the whispers died.

  The doctors around Susan shrank back, and she managed to get a proper look at the newcomer. She blinked, her mouth falling open. An old woman stood in the doorway, her eyes glazed white, her long black hair streaming down around her face. Her cheeks were creased with age, and her shoulders were hunched and shrunken. But despite her advanced years, there was no mistaking the power she held over the creatures around her. They made way before her, and watched in silence as she approached the terrified group of doctors.

  As the woman advanced, one of the doctors stumbled forward. She reached out an arm towards the old woman. “Please, help us, the Chead–”

  Her words broke off as the old woman stepped up and caught her by the throat. Lifting her into the air with a strength that belied her age, she studied the doctor with her cold white eyes.

  Only then did Susan realise the truth. The wizened old woman wasn’t human at all – she was Chead, her eyes turned white with the premature aging caused by the virus. But how was that possible? The woman had not been one of the Chead that had escaped the facility. So where had she come from?

  The doctor in the old Chead’s grip gave a strangled cry, her eyes bulging as she kicked feebly. An awful grin spread across the Chead’s face, revealing perfect white teeth, and again the doctor cried out. With shocking finality, something went crack, and blood sprayed the air.

  Susan screamed and stumbled backwards. She slapped a hand across her mouth, struggling to contain her horror as her stomach roiled. Then she was on her knees, throwing up the half-digested remnants of her last meal.

  The doctor’s body gave a wet thud as it struck the ground and lay still. Looking across, Susan gasped as she found the doctor’s eyes wide open and staring at her. A horrible gurgling came from her mouth as blood gushed from her throat.

  Susan quickly looked away, her stomach still churning. A dull moan rattled up from her chest.

  “This is all... of them?” the old Chead spoke in a dry, rasping voice.

  “All the ones… still alive,” the one she recognised as Hecate answered. He nodded towards Susan and she scrambled backwards. “That one… led us to… what we sought.”

  “Did she now?” the old Chead grinned and strode towards Susan.

  Susan cried out and tried to back away, but the doctors behind her shoved her forward, eager to avoid becoming the Chead’s next victim. She looked back at them, silently begging for them to help her, but they retreated together into the corner, leaving her alone in the middle of the room.

  Still on the ground, Susan looked up at the old Chead. She trembled as the pale white eyes found hers. It took every last drop of her courage not to look away. For a moment, it felt as though she was being inspected. Finally she could take it no more, and closing her eyes, she looked away.

  The old Chead laughed. “Hecate, what do you know… of this woman?”

  “Nothing, Talisa,” Hecate replied. “She is… new. She was not one of… them.”

  Opening her eyes, Susan saw the direction of Hecate’s gaze. The Chead was staring at the group of doctors. A dark rage danced behind its eyes, and suddenly she was glad they hadn’t let her hide amongst them.

  The doctors, if possible, shrank more beneath the old Chead’s gaze. A smile curled across her ancient lips. “Very well then,” it laughed. “She is yours…if she accepts.”

  Hecate bowed, and a smile touched the creature’s lips. “If you wish… Talisa.”

  “We shall give her the choice,” Talisa replied, “You have it?”

  “Yes, though we have not…tested it.”

  “All the better,” Susan shrank as the white eyes returned to her, “What is your name, girl?”

  Susan pressed herself flat against the floor. Slowly the question seeped through her mind, and she managed to stammer out an answer. “Su… Susan.”

  The old Chead leaned down, until its face was less than an inch from Susan’s. She tried to shrink away, but firm hands reached out and caught her by the chin.

  “Do you wish to live… Susan?” the old voice whispered in her ear.

  Susan’s heart lurched, and she glanced at Hecate, then back to the old Chead. “Ye… yes.”

  The Chead nodded. “Excellent,” it held out its hand, and Hecate placed something in it, “Then you have a choice… join us… or join them,” it nodded to the other doctors.

  Opening its hand, the old Chead revealed the vial in its palm. Even without reading the label, Susan knew what it was. PERV-ALPHA – the Chead virus she had led Hecate straight to. Her stomach twisted and she struggled to breathe. Choking, she tried to break free of the Chead’s grasp, to turn and flee and never look back.

  But the old Chead only watched her, its eyes devoid of emotion.

  “Choose,” Talisa hissed.

  Susan stilled at the command. She looked around the room, taking in the fear in the eyes of the other doctors, the blood pooling on the floor, her colleague staring at her with dead eyes. She shuddered as she looked back at the Chead.

  I don’t want to die.

  Closing her eyes, she nodded, and held out her hand. Ice tingled in her veins as the tube and a syringe were placed in her palm.

  “Do it,” Talisa ordered, “Now.”

  Susan nodded. With trembling hands, she prepared the syringe. Taking a deep breath, she slid the needle into the rubber top of the tube, and watched as the clear liquid disappeared into the syringe. A tremor ran through her as she held it up to the light, checking for bubbles. She tried not to think, not to contemplate what she was about to do.

  Looking up, she found the
grey eyes of the Chead watching her, and quickly looked away.

  Do it, don’t think, she ordered herself.

  Looking at her arm, she contemplated her pale flesh. What would it be like, to change? She realised they had never bothered to ask the survivors. The government had only ever hunted them, slaughtering them wherever they were found. Those few that were captured were imprisoned in places like this, to be the subject of their experiments, or occasionally to breed if they were running short on subjects.

  Susan took another breath, and her trembling stilled. Closing her eyes, she slid the needle into her flesh, and pressed down. When the plunger had depressed the entire way, she carefully pulled the needle out, and hurled it away.

  The breath caught in her throat as she felt the liquid seeping through her arm. There was an alien strangeness to its presence. She gasped as the first tingles of pain began, like a pressure against her flesh. It spread quickly, moving to her shoulder, then her chest, then heart.

  Groaning, Susan bent in two as agony wrapped around her body. Her skull prickled with a thousand pins and needles, and reaching up she tore at her hair, unable to bare the pain. Fire seared its way down her spine and she felt herself falling away. The darkness called, and she longed to embrace it. But the fire was all around her now, absolute, consuming, and she realised with horror the release of unconsciousness would not come.

  A scream tore from her throat, and went on and on, until she tasted blood. A red light spread through her mind, consuming her, and slowly her sanity slipped away.

  From the distance came an old woman’s voice. “Watch her, Hecate,” the voice said, “Until the change is complete.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Chris still couldn’t believe his eyes. Two hours had passed since the fight in Independence Square, and they were finally safe, but he was still shaking. During the fight, and their wild escape in the rickety van, there had been no time to think. Now, as he stood at the head of the table looking around at the others, he should have been calm. Instead, his heart was racing like a runaway train.

  Ashley and Liz sat to either side of him, their eyes shadowed with exhaustion. Each of them bore the cuts and bruises of their desperate battle. Their anger hung over the kitchen like a thick blanket, silencing all conversation. The others were resting in a makeshift infirmary in another room, where one of the Mad Women was examining their injuries.

  Chris’s chest tightened as he thought of them. All three would apparently recover; but he knew his actions had put them at risk, that he had let them all down. Even so, he couldn’t bring himself to regret his recklessness – not this time. Not when he was standing here, looking across the table at a woman he had never thought he would see again.

  She was the same woman who had stood in open defiance of the Director, the one he had raced forward to protect, the one who had led them all to safety.

  Maria Sanders.

  “Nana,” he gasped the word like a drowning man.

  At the other end of the table, a smile spread across his grandmother’s face. The wrinkles around her cheeks deepened as her eyes glistened.

  “Chris,” she whispered, “It really is you…”

  Chris nodded. His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. There were none to describe what he was feeling. He found himself moving around the table, his eyes fixed on the woman he hadn’t seen in months, the woman he had long since given up for dead.

  And then her warm arms were wrapping around him, embracing him, and he was crying big, heaving sobs into her shoulder. All the pain, all the grief and anger and horror came pouring out as he held his grandmother for dear life. And he could feel her shaking too, her own sorrow, her own loss a mirror of his own.

  Finally Chris managed to regain some of his composure. Pulling away from her, he wiped away his tears. His grandmother smiled up at him, and then leaned forward and planted a kiss on his cheek.

  “Nana…” Chris hiccupped, “She’s… she’s really gone?”

  His grandmother’s face pinched and her hands tightened on his shoulders. “Yes,” her eyes closed for half a second, “I tried to find you both… but no one would help. They called me mad, called us all mad,” she laughed, the sound harsh and angry, “So we became the Mad Women.”

  Chris nodded, struggling to swallow another wave of grief. Taking a breath, he turned back to the others.

  “This is… this is my nana, Maria Sanders,” he croaked.

  Ashley and Liz’s eyes widened, confusion adding to their anger and exhaustion. Beside him, his grandmother gestured to the seat at the head of the table. Nodding, Chris moved back to his chair. Ashley and Liz watched him, their eyes still hard, but his announcement seemed to have taken the edge from their anger. At the other end of the table, his grandmother sat and looked around at them.

  “Welcome, all of you,” Maria smiled, “And thank you for coming to my rescue.”

  “Thank Chris,” Liz said, shooting him a glance, “We followed his lead.”

  “Even so, thank you,” his grandmother stared at Liz until she looked away, “I’ve often wondered who you were, all of you so called ‘terrorists’ who have been keeping my grandson company on the evening news. Although you gave us quite a fright when you first appeared today. I thought teenagers with wings were meant to be fighting for the other side…”

  A strained silence greeted her question. His grandmother looked from Ashley to Liz, waiting for a response. Chris let out a long breath, knowing he had to face what he’d done.

  “I’m sorry,” he breathed, staring down at the table, “I should never have put you at risk like that. It was stupid and reckless, and I could have gotten us all killed. But when I saw them advancing on her, I didn’t even think.”

  He jumped as Ashley placed her hand on his wrist. “Chris, it’s okay,” she whispered, her eyes suddenly soft, “I know if it had been anyone from my family… I just wish I’d…” her voice cracked and she looked away.

  Before Chris could ask Ashley what was wrong, Liz cut in. “You should have told us. You should have waited for us, but… Ashley’s right. If it had been my father, my mother…” she shook her head and looked at Maria, “It’s nice to meet you too, Maria. My name is Liz, and this is Ashley. Thank you for bringing us here, and thank you for helping our friends.”

  “You’re welcome, my dear,” his grandmother smiled, “I’m just glad we could return the favour. Thanks to the chaos you inspired, most of us apparently made it clear. The soldiers you didn’t… disable were too busy looking for you to pay attention to the Mad Women.”

  “What were you doing there?” Chris asked suddenly. He shivered as he remembered the soldiers marching towards her. “You could have been killed.”

  A smile touched his grandmother’s lips. “I could have,” her eyes travelled around the table, “But I did it for you, Chris. I did it for all the people who have disappeared, the children who have vanished. I’m old, I’ve lived my life. I don’t mind giving it away, if it makes a difference.”

  “But…” Chris croaked, his eyes beginning to water again.

  He looked up as Liz placed her hand on his shoulder. Her blue eyes were wide, glistening with unspilt tears. She nodded to his grandmother, and looking across, Chris saw the sorrow in the tightness of her face.

  “I’ve outlived my daughter, Chris,” she shook her head, but there was steel in her eyes as she continued, “I do not intend to outlive my grandson as well. So when I heard about the Mad Women, and realised I might be able to make a difference, I knew I had to stand with them.”

  Chris closed his eyes, his heart twisting. “But I never asked you to, nana,” he shook his head, “I was trying to protect you, by staying away. I didn’t know what had happened to you, but I thought you’d be safe if I didn’t go near you.”

  “Chris, it’s not your job to look after me,” she laughed, “Your grandfather gave his life so you could grow up in a world that was safe. I am only continuing his fight.”

 
“Wrong,” Chris looked up as a voice came from the doorway. Jasmine stood there, arms crossed, her lips twisted in a scowl. To his relief, her eyes had returned to their usual brown, although her fury seemed undiminished. “This is our fight now – even more than yours. You’re right, you’ve lived your life. And while you were busy living it, you allowed this to happen. Where were you when they started taking away our rights? When people started disappearing? Where were you while the Chead ravaged the countryside?”

  Maria did not blink in the face of Jasmine’s rage. “I was sleeping,” she said softly, “Resting on my laurels. I thought the battle was won when the war ended. You’re right – I let this happen.”

  Jasmine hesitated, clearly caught off-guard by Maria’s confession. Beside Chris, Liz nodded to an empty chair, and after a moment’s pause, Jasmine moved across the room and sat down. She shared a long look with Liz, and then gave a quick nod. Liz smiled back.

  Nodding, Maria went on. “But I’m fighting now – and not just protesting with the Mad Women,” she looked around the table, and Chris noticed her eyes lingering on their wings, “There is a movement beginning. It’s still young, but the Mad Women are only the rallying point. We’re the only ones who are safe to openly defy the government.”

  “Until today,” Ashley whispered.

  Maria nodded. “Until today,” she gave a sad smile, “But we always knew the risks. We knew the day would come, and we knew there might be losses. Thanks to you, most of us escaped. Now, we have to wait and see how the public reacts.”

  Chris glanced at the others. His grandmother was right – the Director would have a hard time spinning the attack in the square. The public weren’t likely to take kindly to the use of force against old women. But then, the government had managed to spin their escape from the courthouse as a terrorist attack. Who knew what they would do now?