Retaliation (The Praegressus Project Book 3)

by Aaron Hodges

  “Why would he believe us?” Sam asked.

  Chris nodded. Halt and his team had cleared the apartment of any evidence of government interference. The tranquiliser darts had been removed along with most of the valuables, making it look like a regular break in. He shivered then, as he realised the same government this man worked for had left him to return home without telling him what had happened to his family. Silently, he wondered how many others had perished like this, murdered to protect the government’s dark secrets.

  “We have to tell him,” Liz continued, “Have to make him believe us. He needs to know what happened, has to know why his wife and daughter are dead.”

  “Good luck with that one, Liz,” Sam gave a half-hearted laugh as Chris and the others stared at her.

  A smile tugged at Liz’s lips. “Actually, Sam, I was hoping you would be the one to do it.”

  6

  Sam sighed as he swivelled the wooden chair and sat down. Leaning his arms against its back, Sam watched the man sleep, still wondering what he was going to say. Mira leaned against the wall on the other side of the room, one eye on him, the other on their guest. Sam carefully kept his gaze averted from the strange girl. Her presence made him uncomfortable, but she had invited herself in, and he wasn’t game to throw her out.

  On the bed, the man gave a long, drawn out groan and started to move. Sam’s heart started to race and he straightened in the chair. He glanced at Mira, wondering whether he should order her out after all. But she only smiled at him, and nodded at the bed. Looking back at the prisoner, Sam saw his eyes were open.

  Slowly, the man wriggled backwards on the bed. The task was made difficult with his hands tied behind his back, but reaching the headboard, he managed to sit up. Spitting out the ball of wool, he made to get to his feet.

  Mira gave a low-pitched growl and leapt onto the foot of the bed. Her back arched and her wings snapped open, their grey feathers seeming to fill the room. Even Sam flinched, while their guest gave a strangled scream, and promptly tumbled off the side of the bed.

  “Please!” Jonathan gasped from the ground, as Mira towered over him, “We’re on the same side!”

  Sam raised an eyebrow as he stood. He waved Mira down, struggling to keep the smile from his face. He had to admit, the girl had style.

  “And who’s side would that be, Jonathan Baker?” he asked as he moved around the side of the bed.

  “The government’s!” Jonathan gasped. He lay helpless on the floor, his hands still tied behind his back.

  “And why would you think we work for the government?” Sam asked.

  On the floor, Jonathan blinked. His eyes were wide, and he slowly shook his head. “The… the wings?” he wheezed, “She’s got wings… and you, you’re the boy from the press conference, aren’t you?”

  Sam sighed. He was already regretting letting Liz talk him into this. That was why she’d wanted him to be the one to break the news of course – because by now everyone in the Western Allied States knew his face. And they all thought he worked for the government.

  “Yes, that was me,” he muttered at last, “I hate to break it to you, but I wasn’t there by choice.”

  Jonathan swallowed. “What do you mean?”

  Giving his best attempt at a menacing smile, Sam took a step closer to the translator. “I was a prisoner,” he growled, “But now I’ve escaped. And the question is, now that I’m free, why should I spare your life?”

  A shiver went through Jonathan then, and he shrank back against the wall. For a second, Sam thought he would start to beg. Instead, he let out a long breath, and nodded. “So be it,” he closed his eyes, “Just don’t hurt my family.”

  Sam’s stomach wrenched and he took a step back. Silently he slumped into the chair. It took a moment for Jonathan to look back up. When he did, his shoulders drooped, and there was a tremor to his voice when he spoke again. “Where are they, my family? Where is Danny and Daniella?”

  Shaking his head, Sam nodded at the bed. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable.”

  For a second Jonathan didn’t move. He lay staring up at Sam, his face twisted with hate and pain, before he climbed to his feet. A low growl came from Mira’s throat as he took a step towards Sam, and he stilled again.

  “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. When he looked back, Sam could see him weighing his options, deciding whether to make a break for it or not.

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

  Jonathan’s shoulders sagged, and with one last glare, he moved back to the bed and sat down.

  “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. He stood and moved to stand beside the bed. His heart ached, and he could barely bring himself to say the words.

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

  At his 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 went out for the man.

  “How?” Jonathan whispered.

  Shaking his head, Sam returned to his chair. He closed his eyes, and slowly recounted 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 recognised them, and called the police to report them.

  “So you killed her?” There was anger in Jonathan’s voice as he sat up.

  “No,” Sam whispered. His eyes caught the fury in Jonathan’s eyes, but he didn’t look away. “When the SWAT team came, they were led by a man called 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.”

  7

  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 from the bed she’d raced into the living room, expecting to see soldiers charging into the apartment.

  Instead, she’d found Sam standing defensively in the doorway, 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 go back to sleep. Her conversation with Jasmine had left her feeling drained and empty, 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 was showing any signs of returning to sleep.

  The cushions shifted beneath her as someone else lowered themselves onto the couch. Liz cracked open her eyes and saw Chris sitting nearby, his hazel eyes watching her. Supressing 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 she’d 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. Fuelled by that knowledge, her anger caught light.

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

  His eyes hardened then, and he stood suddenly. “Nothing,” shaking his head, he moved away.

  Liz’s anger 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 the tears from her eyes before looking up at Sam. His face was grim, and hovering in the doorway, he did not meet her eyes. Ashley stood and went to him, her white wings stretching out to wrap around them both as they embraced. 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,” his tone was unusually sober, “He was in shock, I think.”

  Liz shivered. “Who wouldn’t be?” She glanced at Jasmine as she spoke, 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. Overhead the sky was overcast, and the buildings she could see looked dull and lifeless.

  Sam walked across 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 in her position. She saw again the eyes of the dead women staring up at her, the broken body of the girl Chris had saved. Despite herself, she felt tears sting her eyes.

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

  Liz shook her head. She was out of ideas. In truth, there were only a few options to choose from. 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, and pretend the fight in the courthouse had never happened.

  And even without Richard’s death, they were probably the only ones left who knew the truth about the Chead. According to Artemis, the ancient Chead they’d found imprisoned beneath the courthouse, the government had engineered the monstrous Chead virus during the American war. For decades, they had been using the virus to terrorise the population, ensuring their accumulation of power went unquestioned. If Liz and the others fled now, the truth would die with them.

  Not that anyone would believe them without proof.

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

  Sam was resting his head against the table, but he stirred at her words. “I can help with that,” he smiled, “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 slowly made her way across the room, “There’s nothing we can do here in San Francisco – not with the whole city out to get us. But 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 across at Jasmine. “What did you say?”

  Jasmine sneered as she faced off against him. Liz struggled from the couch, remembering now the bad blood between the two of them. Her muscles screamed their 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 in.”

  “I didn’t want to do it, Jasmine,” she heard Sam’s voice from behind her. She glanced back and saw the fight had gone from his eyes. Slowly he sank back into his chair. “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 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’s cruelty while the doctor 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. Together, they stared as Mira wandered into the room. The stranger Chris had knocked out lingered 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 up. Though his eyes were red from crying, there was no sign of tears now.

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

  Sam shrugged and the rest of them nodded reluctantly. A shiver went through the newcomer and he 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?”

  Chris moved across the room and seated himself on 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?”

  “I work as a translator for the government. During my travels with our ambassadors, I’ve… seen things, heard things. Even our allies have begun to ques
tion our methods. I’ve just returned from Mexico, and even their president is concerned with the arrests the Department of Domestic Affairs has been carrying out.”

  “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 Praegressus Project. Abducted in the night, their parents accused of treason, they had been spirited away to a facility deep in the Californian mountains. Liz still woke screaming most nights, remembering the horrors they’d been subjected to. Only the conscience of the head geneticist, Doctor Fallow, had given them a chance to escape.

  “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. There was no surprise there. While not officially controlled by the government, like most assets in the country, the media had been consolidated and bought out decades ago. Even the once popular social media was no longer an option. After ceding from the United States, the WAS had been determined to avoid decay that had consumed their former nation. They had identified fake news dispersed over social media as a key contributor, and had promptly erected a nationwide firewall to block the platforms. Much in the same way China had decades ago.

  “So what will you do now?” Chris asked, stepping up to the man, “Will you go on as though nothing has happened?”

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