by Aaron Hodges
One by one, the doctors moved away, each taking one of the orange-garbed candidates with them. She saw Radly take the boy, Christopher, by the arm, saw his hazel eyes turn in her direction. Looking away, she studied a cloud drifting through the sky. Her mind drifted for a moment, remembering again the way Margaret Sanders had fought. The woman had downed a highly-trained Marine, almost killed him in fact.
A mother’s love.
Idly, she remembered her own mother, the way she had fussed over their little family. Despite the wide expanse of the property, they had always struggled, making do with the rations the landowner left for them. But her mother had suffered their poverty with good grace, stewing rabbit bones and baking hard bread in the coal stove.
She imagined Margaret Sanders possessed a similar resolve, a determination to do what was best for her children.
So why, then, had she been so foolish. Her treason against the government had doomed her son, and only by the grace of the government had he not been tossed into an interrogation cell alongside her. She shuddered, thinking of those dark places, imagining the woman’s pretty face bruised and beaten.
Out on the field, Chris had begun to run, as Doctor Radly studied readings on his tablet. The collars transmitted a constant stream of data to the tablets: heartbeat, blood pressure, oxygen levels, and a range of other readings. That information would be used to rank them later.
Watching the candidates, Angela turned her thoughts to what lay ahead for them. She shuddered as a darkness settled on her soul. Again, she reminded herself what was at stake, of the necessity of the Praegressus project. Again, she could not quite convince herself.
12
Liz lay in the darkness, eyes open, staring out into empty space. Somewhere above was the concrete ceiling, but in the pitch-black she imagined the sky stretched overhead, infinite in its expanse. Only there were no stars, no moon or drifting satellites, and in her heart, she could not convince herself of the illusion.
In her heart, she remained trapped, locked away within the soulless walls of the facility.
She could still feel the boy’s eyes watching her, begging for help, for an end to the torture. A shudder ran through her as she remembered the way Halt had looked at her, the piercing grey of his eyes as he considered her worth. It had been so close, a simple coin toss, and he might have chosen her…
Biting back a sob, Liz closed her eyes, though it made no difference in the darkness. She had wanted to go to him; only Ashley’s hand had stopped her. Instead, she had stood in silence, hand in hand with the girl from the city, as William slid towards death.
In the cell, Liz shivered, a scream building in her throat. She bit it back, and drew the thin cover closer. Goosebumps pricked at her skin as she rolled onto her side. Her body ached and a constant thud came from her temples. The doctors had subjected them to eight hours of torturous exercise, until the sun had finally dropped below the towering walls. By then her body had been little more than a series of bruises. A measly meal of broiled stew had followed in their cell, though in truth it was better than most of what she’d scavenged on the streets. Then the lights had clanked off, plunging them into the darkness.
“You okay, Liz?” Ashley whispered from the darkness.
Liz suppressed a shudder.
Am I okay? She turned the question over in her mind. Silently, she wondered whether she would ever be okay again. At the thought, a yearning rose within her, a need for companionship, for comfort.
“I’m alive,” she replied, then. “What about you?”
Out on the field, Ashley had barely moved while William lay writhing in the dirt. Her face had remained impassive, the only sign anything was amiss was her iron-like grip around Liz’s hand. Afterwards, Ashley had moved through the drills and tasks set by the doctors with an eerie calm, as though her mind were far away, detached from the horrors around her.
There was a long pause before Ashley replied. “I’m alive too.” Her breath quickened. “That’s saying a lot.”
“How long… how long have you and Sam been here?”
Another pause. “Weeks, a month. I’ve lost count of the days.”
“And… And you’ve seen things like that, like today with William?”
Below, Ashley gave a sharp snort. “That, and worse.” She shifted in the bed, causing the bunk to rock. “It only gets worse, Liz.”
Liz shivered, thinking of the icy glances that had passed between Ashley and Sam, and the couple in the other group. “What about the two in the other group, Richard and Jasmine and the rest.”
“What about them?” Ashley’s response was abrupt, her voice sharp.
“You knew them,” Liz whispered softly, aware she was treading on dangerous ground. “Or at least, you knew Richard and Jasmine.”
“You’ll find out soon enough, Liz. Best you not worry about it.”
Liz swallowed. Ashley’s reply brooked no argument, and an uneasy silence fell between them. For a while, Liz lay still, staring into space, wondering at the truth behind Ashley’s words. Below, Sam gave a snort and rolled in his bed. Liz stifled a groan as a rumble came from the boy’s chest and he started to snore.
“The boys don’t seem to be having any trouble sleeping,” she whispered, hoping Ashley was still awake.
“You know what boys are like,” came Ashley’s reply. She could almost hear the girl smiling. “Emotional capacity of a brick and all…” her voice trailed off for a moment. “Sam… he closes it off I think, buries it deep. It comes out in other ways though, his frustration. Like how he reacted to Chris when you arrived.”
“And you?” Liz couldn’t help but dig deeper. Through the heat and torture, the agonising exercise and the hard-faced stares of the doctors, Ashley had not missed a beat. She had smiled through each new challenge, as though privy to some secret joke, and moved with that same fluid grace Liz had first seen displayed in this cell.
When the girl did not answer, Liz pressed on. “You looked so calm, even when…” she trailed off as William’s agonised face flashed through her thoughts.
Ashley had remained impassive throughout it all, only moving once Doctor Fallow arrived to intervene. Her calm had been… frightening.
“I was?” Ashley sounded surprised. Sheets rustled in the darkness. “I wasn’t. Inside I was screaming, but I’ve learned when to keep things to myself, when not to draw attention. Even before this place, it was a skill I’d mastered.”
Liz sat up at that. “What do you mean?”
Soft laughter came from below. “I’ve had a lot of practice, Liz. My parents worked for the government.”
An icy hand slid its way down Liz’s throat and wrapped its fingers around her heart. Her breath stuttered, the cold steel pressing against her throat. She grasped at the covers, fingers tearing at the cheap fabric.
Below, Ashley was still talking. “They worked in Media Relations, of all things. No one important, nothing to do with the President and his people. Just a couple of analysts in a tiny department of our fine administration,” her last sentence rang with sarcasm. “But even two lowly analysts quickly discovered there’s no such thing as free speech these days. Especially for those close to power. They had to learn to wear masks, to hide their true beliefs about the goings-on of the government. By the time my older sister and I came along, they were masters at it. So I guess you could say, I learned from the best.”
“Why would they stay?” Liz tried to hide it, but the question came out harsh, accusing.
A ruffle of blankets came from below her. “Why?” Ashley’s voice trailed off, as though considering the question. “For us, I guess. To give us a better life. They may not have agreed with everything the government did, but they knew leaving was not really an option. Their careers would have been destroyed. They didn’t want to raise their daughters on the streets.”
“Yes, it’s not much of a life,” Liz all but growled.
Ashley fell silent, and for a long while it seemed she would not reply.
Guilt welled in Liz’s chest, but she pushed it down. Anger wound its way around her throat, but before she could reply, Ashley spoke.
“Didn’t really matter in the end though, did it? They sacrificed their beliefs, their integrity, so we could live, But it didn’t make any difference. They were found out, and here I am.”
Liz’s anger dwindled with Ashley’s words. It was not the girl’s fault she had been born into wealth, while Liz had been condemned to the poverty-stricken regions. Even so, she could not quite set aside the anger, could not quite let it go.
“Sorry,” she offered at last, her tone still harsh. “It’s just, for as long as I can remember, the government has been the enemy. Even as a child, they were the people who came and took our food, the landowners who held our lives in the palm of their hands. Then, when I was older, after my parents… after they passed…” She shook her head, angry images flashing through her mind.
“I understand,” Ashley’s whisper came from below. “But none of that matters now, does it? Whatever our parents were, whatever we’ve been through, we’ve arrived at the same destiny. We’re both trapped in the same nightmare. You’ll learn that, soon enough.”
“It gets worse?” Liz spoke the words without emotion. Her energy was spent, and she could hardly bring herself to care about whatever new trials the morning might hold.
“Only if you’re human,” Ashley replied.
The words rang with finality and Liz sensed the conversation had come to an end. Shivering, she hugged the covers tight around her. Suddenly she longed to be wrapped in another’s arms, felt the need for human touch. An image of her mother drifted through her thoughts, a warm smile on her lips, eyes dancing with humour.
Biting back a sob, Liz buried her head in the pillow, anxious to hide her sorrow. As she cried, another thought drifted through her thoughts, a question that demanded an answer. One she should have asked. Silently, she cursed her selfish grief.
“Ashley,” she breathed. “What happened to your sister?”
Silence hung over the darkness, and long minutes passed, until Liz was sure the girl had already fallen asleep.
“She’s dead.” The answer came just as Liz was preparing to give up.
The girl’s soft sobs carried up from below, carrying with them the pain of loss.
“I’m sorry,” Liz whispered, the words hollow, even to her.
Ashley did not reply, and Liz lay back on her bed, listening as the girl’s sobs faded away.
It was a long time before sleep found Liz.
13
Liz stumbled as she entered the room, the sudden, brilliant light blinding her. Stars danced across her vision as the door slammed closed behind her. She jumped at the sound, and almost tripped, before she managed to right herself. Straightening, she blinked again and looked around the room.
Overhead, fluorescent bulbs lined the ceiling, filling the room with their distant whine. Otherwise, the room was unlike anything she’d seen so far. Three walls were covered by white padding, while the third shone with silver glass, its surface reflecting her tangled hair and shadowed eyes. She shivered, seeing the exhaustion in her eyes, the bruises marking her cheeks.
For three days, the doctors had taken them to the outdoor field, and driven them through an endless series of tests and exercise. Unused to the constant strain, Liz had quickly learned that failure meant pain. So she had dug deep within herself, to stores of strength she had not known she possessed, and survived. But now things had changed again.
She took another step into the room, the soft floor yielding beneath her feet. Turning from the one-way mirror, she shifted to face the boy in the centre of the room. His long blond hair hung in dirty clumps around his face, where purple bruises matched Liz’s own. Biting his lip, his eyes flickered around the room, uncertainty writ in his every movement. Behind him was another door, its surface padded like the one she had entered through.
Joshua, she recalled his name from their first day on the training field.
His eyes turned on her as she thought his name. “What’s going on?” he croaked.
Liz shrugged and shook her head. “I don’t know, Joshua.”
They had not spoken since that first day on the field. Ashley and Sam had been insistent, refusing to even acknowledge the other group of inmates. Somehow, Liz did not think their rule applied now.
Before either of them could speak further, a loud squeal interrupted. Liz winced, the hairs on her neck standing up, before the sound died away. A voice quickly followed.
“Welcome,” the voice began, coming from somewhere in the ceiling. “Congratulations on surviving the framework. As you know, only the strongest are needed for the final stages of the Praegressus project.”
Liz crossed her arms and turned to face the mirror. Raising an eyebrow, she rolled her eyes so those behind could see. She was sick of listening to these people, to them acting like they owned her. Collar or no, she refused to be treated like an animal any longer, to bend to their will.
The voice ignored her display of insolence and continued. “Unfortunately, time constraints require us to press on. This phase of the project must be completed by week’s end. This means omitting the standard rest period for new subjects such as yourselves.”
“Hardly seems fair,” Liz muttered under her breath, flashing a quick grin at Joshua.
Joshua shrugged and cast another uncertain look at the glass. They stood in silence for a moment, waiting for the voice to continue. “Regretfully, we must cull our population of candidates for the next phase of the Praegressus project. Only those with the strongest constitutions would survive the final process regardless, and we do not have resources to waste on failed specimens. Thus, today only the best will survive.”
Liz shuddered at the way the voice described cold-blooded murder. She recalled the faces lining the corridor outside their cell. Some of those boys and girls could have been as young as thirteen, the oldest maybe twenty. Their whole lives were ahead of them. And these people wished to snuff them out, to cull them like they were no more than field mice beneath their boots.
Joshua seemed a little younger than her, maybe seventeen at a stretch. He was a little taller too, and bulkier, with the broad shoulders of a swimmer. His amber eyes were watching her now, his fear shining out like a beacon.
“Only one of you will leave that room alive. You must decide for yourselves, whether you possess the will to live. To the victor, goes life.”
Liz clenched her fists, eyes flickering from the mirror to Joshua. She sought out some sign of the watchers beyond, but the glass was too thick, showing only the horror on her face. And the boy’s wide eyes, the hardening of his brow, his fists clenching as he faced her.
Whatever her own thoughts, Joshua had clearly already made up his mind.
Only if you’re human, Ashley’s words from their midnight conversation returned to her.
They weighed on her soul as she watched Joshua, saw his muscles tensing. And she knew in her heart, she too would do whatever was necessary to survive.
The fear had already fallen from Joshua’s face. His eyes swept over her, weighing her up. A smile spread across his lips as he realised his chances of victory were high. There was no question who the doctors expected to survive.
Straightening, he stepped towards her.
Liz quickly retreated. She studied him as they began to circle, searching for an advantage. It was easy to see she was no match for his strength, but she was light on her feet and hoped he might prove over-confident. After two years on the streets, wandering between towns and cities, Liz was no stranger to a fight.
Yet with the padded walls ringing her in, there was no room for mistakes. If he caught her in his long arms, she would be finished. Though she was yet to see how determined he was about his capacity for murder, she didn’t want to test his mercy.
She certainly would not be giving him any second chances.
Joshua gave a sudden shout and leapt towards her, eat
ing up the space between them in a single stride. Liz twisted as he came for her, jumping backwards to avoid his flailing arms, and smiled as he staggered past. Despite his size advantage, the boy was no fighter.
Maybe she stood a chance after all.
Joshua came to a stop near the wall and spun to face her. A wicked scowl twisted his face. Liz swallowed hard and braced herself.
Raising her fists, she nodded. “Let’s get this over with then.”
A low growl came from Joshua as he started towards her again, his footsteps controlled now, each movement carefully measured. Liz spread her feet wide and slid one foot backwards, readying herself. She had no intention of letting him get close enough to grab her, but he needed to be a little closer yet.
As Joshua took another step, Liz gave a low growl and hurled herself forward. His eyes widened as she closed in on him, but close as they were, there was no time to react. Liz slammed her fist into the centre of his chest, aiming for the solar plexus.
Air exploded between the boy’s teeth and he staggered backwards, a half-choked groan rattling from his throat. The colour fled his face as he clutched his stomach, mouth wide and gasping.
Watching his distress, Liz hesitated, guilt welling up within her. Joshua had not been expecting her to fight back, certainly not with such sudden violence. But as he bent in two, wheezing in the cold air, she knew she could not spare him. If she allowed him to recover, he would not fall for the same trick again.
Bent in two, Joshua’s head provided the perfect target. Stepping in, Liz clasped her hands together and brought them down on the back of his head.
Joshua’s legs buckled and he slumped to the ground without a sound. His arms splayed out on either side of him and a muffled groan came from his mouth. Relief swept through Liz at the sound – at least she hadn’t killed him. Maybe they would spare him. After all, they couldn’t have expected her to win this matchup.
Turning to the one-way mirror, she raised an eyebrow in question. As she did, Joshua’s hand shot out and grabbed her by the leg.