by Aaron Hodges
Liz shivered and glanced at the others, the hairs on her neck standing up. They stared back, their cheeks gaunt and eyes wide. She could see the question on their faces – the same one running through her minds.
Is it a coincidence?
Either way, they had nowhere to go now. They were stuck in the middle of the row, hemmed in by students on either side of them. If they got up now, every eye on the room would be on them. Taking a breath, Liz shook her head, and Chris nodded back at her.
Stay put, his eyes said. Don’t panic.
Around the lecture theatre, the other students had seen the image too. The low buzz of their voices had returned, and was quickly growing louder. The image had obviously disturbed some students. Then, just as it seemed the whole room would erupt, the speakers in the corner of the room crackled, and an old voice spoke over the din.
“Welcome to Genetics 201.”
CHAPTER 26
Liz gripped the desk in front of her as the professor’s voice echoed through the room. Around her, the students had fallen silent, as every face in the room turned to look at the man.
Below, Professor McKenzie placed his hands on the lectern and looked up at them. Liz did her best not to slide down in her chair, uncomfortably aware of how exposed they were. The only protection they had was numbers – with the theatre near capacity, the professor was looking up at almost four hundred faces. Even so, Liz couldn’t help but feel as though he was staring directly at her.
“The Chead,” she flinched as his voice crackled through the speakers again, “They need no introduction. They’ve been a plague on this country for decades, though the infection has only recently reached our sheltered lives in the cities.”
He released the lectern and moved out into the centre of the stage. Liz saw he wore a wireless microphone and shook her head. Either the equipment was decades old, or the university had more of a budge than her boarding school.
McKenzie put his hands behind his back as he continued. “I have discussed them many times in this class, though always in a theoretical manner. Details of the Chead virus, its genetic code, its make-up, have always been restricted. We can’t have such information becoming public knowledge – least some terrorist or foreign power decide to recreate it, and add to our misery.”
He stopped, turning to face the rows of watching students. “Or so they say.”
The breath caught in Liz’s throat. She bit her lip, wondering if the others read his words the same as she had. Did this mean the Texan had succeeded in winning the professor over to their cause? Had he sequenced Mira’s DNA and found a link between the Chead and themselves?
“As you will all recall, in the past I have been critical of the government’s response to this epidemic. Even recently, with their bizarre experiments, I have questioned their strategy. As far as we are aware, even the mechanism by which the virus spreads remains a mystery.”
Liz wanted to scream that it wasn’t true, that the government was well aware of how the virus found its victims. They had been spreading it for decades, disseminating it amongst the rural communities, dividing them with fear. With the virus running amok, you never knew who would be the next to turn. It made it difficult to trust.
And yet, the rural men and women Liz had met on the run had shown her more compassion than anyone from the city ever had. That is, until she’d met Chris. Her cheeks flushed as she thought of him, and she quickly forced herself to focus on the professor’s words.
“But despite my criticism, I have remained a patriot. I have supported our government through thick and thin.” He sighed and returned to his lectern. Studying him, Liz noticed the veins popping from his neck, and the perspiration on his brow. “Over the years I have decried the rebels and terrorists who sought to tear down our young nation. So when a… dissident… came to me a few days ago, I did what any patriot would do. I ensured he was brought to justice, before his wild ravings could cause any more harm.”
A vice closed around Liz’s heart. She shivered, and this time it had nothing to do with the wet feathers dripping down her back. The professor was talking about Mike. The answer to their first question had been answered. The Texan had been exposed, taken by the government.
“But there was something about what this dissident said,” the professor went on suddenly, “Something he said that haunted me at night. I couldn’t help but wonder… what if he was right? I knew it couldn’t be true, but still the question plagued me. So I took what he had given me, and set out to prove him wrong.”
“The man I betrayed gave me a feather. He told me the feather belonged to one of the government’s experiments – yes, the ones with wings. He also said the owner had also once been Chead. Though I disbelieved his claim, I kept the feather from the agents who came to arrest him. For my own peace of mind, I set out to sequence its DNA. I was convinced the feather would prove the man mad, that it would belong to nothing more than a common pigeon.”
He pressed a button on the screen, and the image flickered again. The Chead vanished, replaced by a multicoloured double helix of DNA. The strands were mostly a dull grey, but in places the grey was banded by slivers of red.
“Unfortunately, the sample proved me wrong. The host was undoubtedly human, but there were distinct anomalies within her DNA. While mapping her genome, I found genetic markers that had no business in human DNA. Genes from species of avian, feline, canine, cnidaria and a dozen other animal families were present. And then I realised these genes were linked by the presence of the Porcine Endogenous Retrovirus, or PERV, for those of you who remember Genetics 101.”
“Not long after I made this discover, I realised the genetic markers for the PERV virus had been replicated. Two pairs of the virus’s DNA were present. Which meant I wasn’t looking at one virus, but two. The rebel had been right – the subject had been infected with a modified strain of the PERV virus, and then re-infected with another strain, almost identical in nature.”
The whispers around the room were growing, but the professor made no effort to silence them. Looking around, Liz saw that several students were standing, while others only stared, their hands held over their mouths.
“I did not have time to map out every modification made between the two strains, but the source of the DNA – a human feather – clearly suggests the sample came from our President’s new creatures. Which means one of these strains was used to create them. The other strain…” he trailed off, closing his eyes for a second, before continuing, “It would appear, from the genes incorporated into its makeup, that the other strain is the Chead virus.”
By now the whole class was on their feet. A roar of voices echoed around the room, threatening to drown out the professor’s voice. Still he went on, though with each word his shoulders sagged further, as though the very act of speaking was draining the life from him.
“As you can see from the images behind me, the two strains of the virus are almost identical. They are clearly related. One was created from the other. This would be inconceivable without a pure sample of the Chead virus. But here, the virus has been fully integrated into the host’s genome. Its genetic mechanism to revert to its active form has been removed. That means it is not possible to retrieve a sample of the original virus from an infected host.”
The professor took a breath. “Which means… whoever created our President’s creatures, must have had access to the source of the Chead virus,” he shook his head, “I fear it means our beloved government has been behind this plague all along.”
CHAPTER 27
“What’s on TV, Mira?” Sam asked as he lowered himself onto the sofa beside the young girl.
The tiny CRT television sat on the coffee table in the corner of the room. A man on the screen was gesturing at a map of the west coast, pointing to the spinning weather system approaching the city. Outside, rain lashed at the windows. It had been growing steadily stronger all morning, and Sam hoped Ashley would be okay in the wild weather. She had less experience flying
than the others.
Mira said nothing, but she snuggled closer on the couch. Grinning, Sam shook his head. Her wound was healing nicely – to the point that Eve had finally let up with her nagging. In fact, the woman had taken to avoiding them altogether. He hadn’t seen her all morning, and when he’d asked Maria about her, Chris’s grandmother had only shrugged and said she’d gone out for the day.
But Sam had seen the look in the doctor’s eyes last night when she’d changed their dressings. Her face had paled as she studied Mira’s wound, and she’d muttered something about their being ‘quick healers.’ Afterwards, Eve had been uncharacteristically quiet, and had disappeared a few minutes later.
Sam could hardly blame her. He’d noticed the stares of the men and women who passed through the safehouse over the last week. When they stretched their wings, it was enough to make grown men stop what they were doing and stare. But wings were one thing – being able to heal from bullet wounds in a matter of weeks was altogether different. It suggested the changes to their physiology were far more than skin deep. Apparently, that had been enough to disturb the kindly old doctor.
He looked up as a loud beep came from the television. The screen had turned red, but after a long moment, it flashed back into focus. But now the weather forecast was gone, replaced by a picture of the President standing on a stage.
Sam sat bolt upright and snatched the remote from Mira. She growled at him, but he ignored her. Pointing the remote at the television, he turned up the volume and leaned in closer.
“My fellow citizens of the Western Allied States,” the President stood at a wooden stand, his hands resting on the smooth mahogany. His short-grey hair had been combed flat, and his hazel eyes stared into the camera as he addressed the nation. “I come to you today with grave news. As many of you may have heard, a week ago there was an incident in Independence Square. I apologise for our silence until today. We did not wish to incite panic with unfounded speculation.”
“Maria!” Sam called, standing. He glanced around as Chris’s grandmother appeared from the dining room, and then nodded at the television. “Something’s happening.”
“However, today I can finally come forward with the truth. The Director of Domestic Affairs and her department have been working tirelessly all week to uncover the truth about events in the square. Today I can confirm that on Monday last week, the Texas government launched a direct attack on persons of the Western Allied States.”
“No,” Maria hissed.
Sam looked around and saw Maria’s face had lost all its colour. She staggered slightly, and then righted herself. Even so, he offered her his seat, and she sank down onto the sofa with a grateful nod. She seemed to have aged ten years in the space of seconds. Heart beating hard in his chest, Sam looked back at the television.
“Not only can we verify the involvement of the Texas government, the nature of the attack confirms what we have always suspected – the Lone Star State is behind the infection and spread of the notorious Chead virus that has so plagued our brave nation.”
“Liar!” Mira was on her feet now, teeth bared, her multicoloured eyes glaring. Her grey wings snapped out to their full extent, every feather standing on end. Shoulders hunched, she stepped towards the television.
“Easy, Mira!” Sam caught her by the waist and hauled her back before she destroyed the television. She struggled for half a second and then went limp in his hands. His heart stopped as he looked back at the television.
The camera had panned out from the President, revealing the rest of the stage. Mike stood nearby, his hands bound in heavy chains. His face had been beaten black and blue, and he seemed to be favouring his left leg. A line of soldiers stood behind him, their sleek-black rifles held at the ready, their fingers hovering close to the triggers.
“Nine days ago, this man…” the President waved a hand, pointing at Mike, and then went on, “this Texan spy orchestrated an attack on the esteemed widows of our brave veterans in Independence Square. Working with the fugitives who launched the terrorist attack on the national courthouse, he infected several members of the crowd with the Chead virus, and unleashed the creatures on our unsuspecting citizens.”
“There’s no way anyone will believe this,” Sam grated.
There had to be a video, had to be something to prove the President’s words a lie.
“I know some of you may doubt my words,” the President continued. “So today I have invited a victim of this man’s brutality to attest to the truth of what happened.”
Gesturing to a curtain behind him, the President stepped away from the lectern. The curtains shifted, and a man stepped out into the light. He moved across to take the President’s place, looking around until he found the camera.
Sam gaped as Jonathan cleared his throat and addressed the reporters. “Thank you, Mr. President. My name is Jonathan Baker. It is my privilege to stand before you today – a privilege this traitor has denied for my wife and daughter.”
“God damnit, Jonathan” Sam whispered, “You said you wanted to get back at them.”
“Who is he?” Maria asked, but Sam only shook his head.
On the stage, Jonathan bowed his head. “A week ago, I returned home to find my wife and daughter murdered. The fugitives had taken shelter in my apartment, and before I could escape they knocked me out and dragged me inside. When I woke, I discovered they were being led by this man,” he nodded at Mike as he spoke.
Sam grasped Mira as she tried to go for the television again. His own wings were trembling, his copper feathers lifting from his back with each inhalation of breath. Teeth gritted, he looked at Maria, and then back to the television.
“They forced me to lead them to Independence Square. They didn’t tell me what they planned to do, or I never would have taken them. Once there, I saw a crowd of older woman had gathered around the Independence obelisk, along with many others. This man, along with the fugitives, grabbed several of the onlookers, and injected them with syringes. After that, all they had to do was step back and let their virus do its work.”
The President stood alongside Jonathan, his hands clasped in front of him, his face solemn. He nodded as Jonathan finished. “And what happened next, Mr Baker?”
Jonathan glanced at the President, and for a second Sam saw a flicker pass across his face. The two stood staring at each other for a long second, before Jonathan finally looked away.
Licking his lips, he continued, “The Chead, they had just started to attack when the soldiers arrived. With them came…” Jonathan swallowed, and his grip on the lectern tightened. “With them came… our saviours. The President’s experiments, the ones he introduced two weeks ago, came with the soldiers. Taking to the air, they placed themselves between the crowd and the Chead. And blow by blow, they forced the creatures back, until the soldiers were able to put them down.”
“Those…” Sam shook his head. Cursing, he spun and hurled the remote at the wall. It shattered into a thousand pieces as Sam sank onto the sofa beside Maria.
“Mr President!” a reporter called from below the stage as the President resumed his spot at the lectern, “How did you locate the spy?”
The President smiled. “As I said, the Director of Domestic Affairs has been working tirelessly to locate the perpetrators of this attack. Mr Baker here was found after the attack, and offered vital assistance in piecing together events in the square. An esteemed member of our community also came forward, offering information about a dissident who had contacted him. This citizen led us directly to the Texan.”
“Who was this citizen?”
“At this moment, we will not be disclosing his identity. However, I can assure you he is being watched around the clock, to ensure there is no retribution from those terrorists still at large.”
The blood in Sam’s veins turned to ice at the President’s words. He gripped the arm of the couch and turned to stare at Maria. She looked back at him, her face pale, her eyes hollow.
“They ha
ve no idea what they’re walking into,” Sam whispered.
CHAPTER 28
“You disappoint me, professor,” Chris craned his head back as a sharp voice cut through the din created by the other students.
Chris’s heart tumbled into his stomach as he saw the Director standing at the top of the stairwell. She had her hands folded over her chest, and her lips drawn into a smirk. To Chris’s shock, two familiar faces stood to either side of her – Paul and Francesca, the other experiments they had left behind in the courthouse. Behind her, men crowded in through the double doors. Though they wore plain clothes, each carried a heavy rifle, and they had the look of soldiers about them.
“How?” the professor’s voice crackled over the speakers. The students had fallen silent now. Their eyes were fixed to the barrels of the rifles held by the men.
“Did you not think we would check up on you?” the Director replied, spreading her hands, “After you handed over the spy, we thought more traitors might try to approach you. We thought you might need protection. But now… I find you have turned traitor yourself?”
“No,” Chris glanced back at the lectern. The professor did his best attempt to draw himself up. “It doesn’t matter now. You can’t silence these kids. Their parents would ask too many questions. It’s over – you’ll never get away with what you’ve done.”
“Silence them?” the Director started down the staircase. Paul and Francesca followed on her heels. Across the lecture theatre, everyone had sank back into their seats. “Why would I want to silence them? They have been lied too – it is you who has committed the crime. How dare you try to taint their young minds with your lies?”
“They’re not lies,” the professor tried to fight back, but he sounded defeated. “It’s the truth! You were behind the Chead. You’re here to silence me – but you can’t hide the truth any longer.”