by Aaron Hodges
She turned to the remaining prisoners. “Who…is next?”
9
“So, just the girls tonight?”
Liz looked up from the sofa at Jasmine’s voice. The other girl stood leaning against the doorway, a smile on her face as she surveyed the room. Liz was sitting on the couch with Mira, a worn book cradled in one hand. The title read “1984,” which hardly seemed relevant in 2052. She had been trying to read it for half an hour, but with Sam out on his mission, her mind was elsewhere, and she’d hardly managed a couple of pages.
“I guess so,” Liz replied, forcing a smile.
Jasmine wandered into the lounge and took a seat on the couch across from Liz. “You still don’t think it’s a good idea, do you?”
Liz shrugged. “No, but there’s not much I can do about it.” She eyed Jasmine before going on. “What about you? I’m surprised you haven’t torn his head from his shoulders yet, after what they did to Richard.” She felt a sense of satisfaction when Jasmine looked away, but shame quickly rose to swamp it. “Sorry,” she murmured, biting her lip. “I didn’t need to bring him into it.”
“It’s amazing how much they still affect us,” Jasmine murmured, pulling her knees up to her chest. “I can still hear his voice sometimes, whispering to me.”
“What does he say?” They both looked around as Mira spoke. She sat up on the couch, her dual-colored eyes looking at each of them in turn.
“Mostly the opposite of what I’ve been doing,” Jasmine laughed. The smile fell from her face. “I think he’d want me to run, to take you and anyone else who’ll come and leave the city, before it’s too late.” she shrugged. “Or maybe that’s just my subconscious talking.”
Silently, Mira left Liz’s couch and went to Jasmine. Snuggling in beneath her arm, she murmured, “But I like it here.”
Liz hardly heard the girl. She sat staring at a hole in the plasterboard, remembering Richard. He had said more than once that they should do just as Jasmine said. But at the end, he’d done the opposite. Instead of running from danger, he’d charged straight into it, sacrificing his life for theirs.
Shifting on the couch, Liz stretched her wings, feeling the pain beginning in her back. She would need to go for a midnight flight soon, or her muscles would start to cramp and spasm.
“I don’t know what Chris would want anymore,” Liz said finally. “Not really. I don’t hear him, don’t see him. It’s like he was never here.”
“Maybe that’s just your mind’s way of protecting you,” Jasmine offered.
“He wouldn’t want you to die,” Mira said quietly.
Liz opened her mouth, then closed it again as a lump caught in her throat. Swallowing hard, she tried to keep them from seeing her tears.
“She’s right, you know,” Jasmine said. “He wouldn’t agree with you going off alone like you’re some one-woman army.”
Liz scowled. “You’re one to talk.”
“I know I sound like a hypocrite,” Jasmine replied, “but that was before we met the Madwomen. Before I saw just how far they’re willing to go to make things right. Before their courage gave me hope.” There was fire in her eyes as she spoke. “They don’t have wings or super strength. They can’t heal from bullet wounds in a matter of weeks. They aren’t strong enough to fight back when the soldiers come for them. But they’re out there anyway, marching, fighting for a better future.”
“And they’re losing, dying by the dozens, because of it,” Liz shot back.
“Yes,” Jasmine said, her eyes shining, “but unlike us, they have a choice. They could stay at home and live out the rest of their lives in peace if they wanted. But they’re not, and that gives me hope that others might do the same. Then maybe, just maybe, we might have a future.”
“It’s too little, too late though, isn’t it?” Liz asked sadly. “The government is all but untouchable.” She leaned back in the sofa and eyed the other girl.
“Maybe, but better late than never,” Jasmine replied halfheartedly.
Liz snorted. “I suppose you feel the same way about the doctor?”
Jasmine looked away. “He’ll face justice, eventually.”
“Not if Sam’s caught. Not if we’re all killed. He’ll be praised as a hero,” Liz snapped.
Jasmine shivered at that. A tear rolled down her cheek, quickly wiped away, but not before Liz had noticed. She frowned and bit her lip, wondering what she’d said to upset her usually staunch friend.
“What’s wrong, Jas?”
Standing, she crossed to the other couch and sat beside Jasmine. Mira seemed to have drifted off to sleep, apparently bored by all their talk of rebellion and the government. Reaching out a gloved hand, Liz squeezed her friend’s shoulder.
Jasmine’s eyes were brimming with tears now. “I don’t want to lose anyone else, Liz,” she croaked. “I know you loved Chris, I know Sam loved Ash…but they were my friends too, and now you three are all I have left.”
“Jas…” Liz said, struggling to speak through her own tears.
Shaking her head, Jasmine hiccupped and forced a smile. “Why do girls’ nights always end in tears?” she laughed, but the grief remained in her voice as she continued, “Just, swear to me you’ll be careful, Liz. I don’t want to lose you, one way or another.”
“I swear,” Liz whispered back, though she wasn’t sure she could keep the promise. If tomorrow she had the Director in her sights, if she had the chance to end the woman once and for all, she would take it—even if it meant giving up her life.
“Knock, knock.”
Liz and Jasmine looked up as Maria appeared in the doorway. Liz swallowed as the old woman’s eyes took in the sleeping Mira and Jasmine’s tear-streaked face, before settling on her. The two of them had hardly spoken over the past few weeks—not since Liz had told her about Chris’s death. It was as though the pain of their shared loss was too much, as though the combined weight would crush them.
Or, if Liz was honest with herself, it was because she was afraid to face the woman. Strong as Maria was, Chris’s death had almost broken her. And however much Liz told herself otherwise, she felt responsible. She was the one who’d left him behind, who’d turned her back and fled while Chris and Ashley fought to the death.
“Liz,” Maria said, pulling the girl from her inward spiral, “a word?”
Holding her breath, Liz glanced at Jasmine, then nodded. She stood and followed Maria out into the corridor.
Part 2
Betrayal
10
Sam sighed as he reversed a chair and sat down. Leaning his arms against the backrest, he looked at the terrified family huddled together on the white leather sofa. The doctor’s wife sat in the middle, her two young children clutched tightly against her sides. The boys were sobbing, but only quietly. The presence of men with guns and a boy with wings had terrified them half out of their minds, and they seemed to have lost their voices.
We should have brought the doctor, Sam thought to himself.
But Maria had immediately vetoed that option when he’d suggested it. If the man was telling the truth, he was too valuable to risk. Especially with the government no doubt aware by now that he was missing. The men Harry had sent to scout out the condominium hadn’t seen any suspicious activity, but even so, they had to assume someone was watching. That meant quietly breaking into the parking garage after dark to allow them access to the elevators, while Sam surveyed the building from above.
They had made it inside without trouble, but their first misstep had come when Sam’s fellows broke down the front door to the woman’s apartment. They had charged inside before Sam could object, rifles at the ready, as though they were storming a terrorist hideout.
Too much television. Even now, Sam couldn’t help but shake his head.
It had taken precious minutes just to calm the woman down enough so she would sit quietly on the couch. He just hoped the neighbors hadn’t heard her earsplitting shrieks.
Now, Sam couldn’t help
but glance out the fourteenth story window. Anxiety gnawed at his stomach, and he half expected a helicopter to appear, machine gun at the ready. But the night sky remained empty, and turning back to the family, he cleared his throat.
“Look, I’m sorry about the door. My friends here were just a bit overeager.” He scowled at the four men. “But as we’ve already said, your husband sent us.”
The woman’s eyes flicked in the direction of the men with guns, lingering on his half-folded wings before returning to his face. She swallowed. “I…I know you. You…you work for the government.”
Sam bit back a curse. It seemed his involuntary media appearance would never cease to haunt him. He’d become a household face—synonymous with the government and their war on the Chead. A symbol of hope, of the strength and bravery of their hallowed President.
Never mind that Sam had only been there to save Ashley, or that the government had actually created the Chead.
“Yes…no…look, it’s a long story, all right? Here, your husband wrote you a note, see?” He handed over a piece of paper. “You recognize his handwriting?”
The woman stared at the piece of paper as though it might bite her. Finally, she reached out and took it, scanned over the words, then folded it up and put it in her pocket.
“How do I know he wasn’t forced to write this?” she asked softly.
“You don’t,” Sam replied. Concentrating on his back, Sam spread his copper wings. They stretched across the room, brushing the kitchen counter and almost knocking a lamp from a table. “But he must have told you what he does? Some of what he’s seen? You know the truth, or parts of it. The question now is, will you choose what’s right, or what’s easy?”
“I haven’t seen my husband in weeks…” the woman murmured. “Not since we moved here, and he started work in his new…laboratory.”
Sam narrowed his eyes, catching the pause. “He hasn’t been back here?”
“No.” The woman pursed her lips, glancing at her children. “My boys…what happens if we go with you?”
“They will be protected,” Sam reassured her. “Trust me, enough children have suffered at the government’s hands. I’ll die before I let anything happen to them.”
The woman studied him for a long while before nodding. She stood, lifting the children with her, though they still held desperately to her skirts. One looked to be around twelve, the other a few years younger. Their scared brown eyes watched him cautiously from beneath mops of blonde hair.
“How much time do we have?” the woman asked.
“None,” said Leo, the man Harry had selected to lead the team. He crossed the room, rifle held at the ready. “We’ve already wasted—”
“Enough, Leo,” Sam spoke over him. Getting to his feet, he barred the man’s path, a smile tugging at his lips. Leo was just five-foot-eight and Sam towered over him. “Call the van, have them drive up to the parking garage. By the time they’re in place, we’ll be heading down in the elevator. Trust me.”
Leo scowled, clearly upset at being overruled, but he finally nodded and turned away. Drawing the radio from his belt, he began speaking into the transmitter.
Smiling, Sam turned his attention back to the woman and her children. Despite his calm words, he was aware of the time ticking away. He glanced out the window again, wondering where the watchers were. Surely they wouldn’t have left the doctor’s family unguarded?
“Grab your things, quickly,” he said finally. Across the room, Leo held up five fingers. “You’ve got five minutes,” Sam added.
The kids looked from him to their mother, eyes uncertain until she nodded her permission. Not needing to be told twice, they fled into their bedroom. One of the men made to follow, until a look from Sam stopped him in his tracks.
“Leave the gun,” Sam said. The man was right about keeping an eye on them, but even Sam didn’t feel safe with all the guns being waved around.
“They won’t be long.” The woman straightened and started towards the second bedroom. “My name’s Jocelyn, by the way. I’d better pack a few things for myself.”
Sam followed close on her heels. He didn’t trust the kids alone, and he certainly wasn’t going to leave the woman to her own devices. One phone call was all it would take to bring the government’s wrath down on them. Liz and the others had already made that mistake once, and he wasn’t about to repeat their errors.
“He talks about you, you know.” Jocelyn’s voice carried across the room. She had pulled a duffel bag from the closet and was busy stuffing clothes inside. “After we saw you on the TV. He couldn’t believe someone had actually succeeded. He’s been trying for ten years…” She trailed off with a shrug.
Sam frowned. “Do you know where he worked?”
Jocelyn laughed. “As I said, I haven’t heard from him since he started the new job.” She pulled out a jacket. Sam thought he detected a strained note in her voice.
“There wasn’t even a hint of where they were taking him?” he pressed.
Her lips stretched in a wide smile. “Not a word.” She bent her head back to the task of shoving the jacket into the duffel bag. “What about you? Where are the Madwomen planning on hiding us?”
Sam started to answer, before breaking off with a frown. “How do you know about the Madwomen?” he asked sharply.
Jocelyn stilled, then gave a nervous laugh. “You mentioned them out in the living room, remember?”
“I don’t think so…” Sam took a step towards her.
The woman’s eyes moved around the room as though searching for an escape route. The master bed took up most of the space, coupled with a heavy wooden dresser. A wide inset window took up most of one wall, revealing the pitch black of the night’s sky. There were no stars out tonight, and the city was dark. Curfew had started hours ago. Only the richest neighborhoods were allowed to use electricity at this hour.
Neighborhoods like Jocelyn’s.
Sam advanced across the room, fists clenched as she backed away. “You’ve…what have you done?”
“No, we never, please I swear, he told you the truth.”
“How do you know what he told us?” Sam growled.
Suddenly, strength seemed to abandon the woman. She sagged against the bed with a heavy exhalation. “I lied,” she whispered. “He came by yesterday, told me what he was going to do, about the Madwomen. He told me to stay put, in case things went wrong. He said someone would come and collect us.”
Sam shook his head, the tension slowly leaving him. Her words had a ring of truth about them. He let out a long breath, his mind going over the new information, considering the implications. It might not be so bad. Obviously, the apartment hadn’t been under surveillance then, or they would have arrested the doctor immediately. They couldn’t have a traitor running around the city, blabbing to whoever would listen…
“Oh no,” Sam breathed.
He started towards the door before reconsidering, grabbing Jocelyn, and hauling her out with him. The other men looked up as he emerged, the doctor’s wife limp in his grip.
“Get the kids,” Sam ordered, already moving towards the door.
The two boys were just appearing from the bedroom, little backpacks hung over their shoulders, blonde hair dangling across their faces. When they saw Sam, his wings half extended, they darted into their mother’s arms.
“What’s the sudden rush?” Leo asked, his voice raised. “The van should be just pulling in.”
Ignoring him, Sam pushed Jocelyn towards the door. “Come on, get moving! Do you want your family to live? It’s only a matter of time before they come back!”
“Come back?” Leo called after him. “Sam, what’s going on?”
Sam shoved the terrified family into the elevator and faced the men, his arm holding the door open. “Get them to the van, there’s no time to explain.” He took the radio from his belt and waved it in their faces. “I’ll be in touch. Keep them safe, Leo. Especially the kids.”
Then he was runn
ing back into the apartment, past the perfect white sofa and sleek tiled floors, to the sliding door leading out onto the balcony. It was a tiny thing, big enough for a hammock and little else. Tall railings ensured the children couldn’t climb over, but they were no barrier to Sam. Without hesitating, he leapt over the side, his copper wings snapping open.
The muscles along his back strained and his wings beat down, lifting him higher. Below, treetops flashed past as he raced over the suburbs. Condos dotted the neighborhood, towering alongside vast mansions and individual houses. Trees lined the roads, their fresh green leaves providing shelter against anyone who might be breaking curfew. Not that Sam was concerned about being spotted.
It had taken him fifteen minutes to fly from the safe house to the condominium.
He made it back in ten.
He was still too late.
11
Liz wandered along the corridor after Maria, still wondering what the old woman wanted. She peered into each room as they moved passed, taking in the safe house’s occupants as they prepared for their mission. Half were members of the Madwomen, driven from their homes by the threat of government persecution. Despite their advanced years, they did not seem daunted by the coming fight. They worked alongside the rural refugees and other disillusioned citizens—young and old in concert, united by their desire for change.
The whole house was a hive of activity. In one room, Liz glimpsed a frightening array of weapons that were being lifted from a heavy case brought from Mike’s safe house. Rifles were handed to those preparing the ammunition, then placed on a rack, ready for use. There were also several handguns on a table, and to Liz’s horror, what looked like a belt of grenades.
In other rooms, people were packing clothing and supplies. Those who weren’t joining the mission were moving to a new house, where they would be safe if anyone was captured and tortured for their location.